Page 114 of Sokâr

Lu’ma had seen just about enough. Her thoughts smoothed into water as she sank into the memories of her training. She reached into her robes, fingers closing around the dagger hidden there. She moved with the shifting shadows, blending into them, curving with them, until she stood just behind the two witless men.

They turned, their eyes growing wide, but it was too late.

The first did not even scream as her blade sliced a bloody curve into his throat.

The second made a strangled noise as she embedded the knife right into his beating heart.

Blood streamed like ribbons everywhere. Hot. Sticky. Staining her robes in ways she’d long forgotten. Yet the sensation of the thrill, the fear, the dizziness—that familiarity remained. Long after the two lay dead at her feet, Lu’ma stared at the red stains on her hands and on the floor. At the crimson liquid that looked black in the emerald Polis-light.

Observation: This appearance is unsightly. This Nameless must bathe.

She knelt down to pick up the glass vial from one of the men’s dead fingers.

Conclusion: Must find new robes. While at the Servitor, This Nameless should find Her Radiance some fresh fruit. It settles her stomach when she is unwell.

She popped open the vial and withdrew a tiny strand of hair from within.

Silver.

Beautiful.

Hers.

Shed? Or taken?

Either way, the Resh’Agar had to be informed.

But first—a bath.

Her appearance was unseemly, and she did not want to risk frightening her Host.

The corridors wound behind her as Lu’ma descended into the maintenance halls of the Servitor. A place of steam and forgotten piping, the under-veins of the Jade Lattices where the Unspoken Choir often held their dealings. Where Attendants sometimes went to beg for poisons or barter for favors.

And the only place where things could be destroyed with certainty. With permanence.

She’d already changed into fresh robes. Now, she needed to burn her old ones. And the hair. She had to burn it, too. Destroy it beyond doubt so that not even a scrap of ash could be traced or found.

For that, she needed the Null—the sacred forge used to charge the brand used for Purification. In punishment, the Godblind was used on heretics and traitors to the Doctrine to brand them at the nape. Not to scar, but to erase the link between their core and their soul so that their spirit could never again enter the Nine Rivers for reincarnation.

It was a punishment worse than Repurposing, said to be so horrific to witness that few dared to enforce it. Save for one Companion.

Zeera.

Purification was her punishment of choice, and over decades, she had labeled countless Attendants and rivals as blasphemers worthy of the Godblind. None could go against her, for she was notorious and cruel in her fabrication of irrefutable evidence. Combined with the influence she wielded, there were few who stood in her path.

Conclusion: That snake is overdue for Purification herself. Pity no one has dared it. Yet. Pity Her Radiance is too soft to ask for such a punishment despite all the ways in which that woman has hurt her for so long.

To think that if the tiny strand in Lu’ma’s hands had made it to her table—or the Council’s—Her Radiance could have been unmade from the inside. The stolen thread could’ve been used in dozens of ways—summoning, hexwork, suppression webs, spiritual binding. Even death, if twisted with the right rune. And Lu’ma had no doubt the Council had even such forbidden artifacts in their possession.

The thought alone gave Lu’ma goosebumps and reinforced her steps as she descended to the Null. She slipped through warded doors, snuck through abandoned passageways, and finally entered a room so dark she could hardly see within. It was a circular chamber made of stone and mana-resistant crystal. The only place in Krystopolis which utterly and completely dampened magic.

Deep within, nestled into black veined rock, burned a square forge. Around it, runes of suppression and extinction were carved in circular patterns. Some with tools. Some with blood. They pulsed with each flicker of the green flames within, and as Lu’ma approached, she had to stop herself from shaking with the drain on her body.

The moment she was close enough, the Null began to devour her mana. She wore none of the typical protective gear used to access this chamber. Had no time to think of how she might obtain them. All thatmattered was burning this hair now. Ensuring it never made it into the wrong hands.

She pulled out her dagger once more—not to cut, but to shatter.

Pulling the vial from her robes, she set it on the ground before the forge. With three careful strikes, she broke the crystal casing into shards, releasing the hair inside. She held it between her fingers, took a breath, and blew it towards the emerald flames.