Chapter 321 - Where There’s Smoke
In the center of his study the elder Reza was kneeling on a cushion facing away from the door. His wispy grey hairs were matted with sweat and hung in disarray around his forehead. The bags under his eyes were heavy from exhaustion, his old skin spotted and wrinkled with age.
He held a small leather bound book in his trembling hands, muttering to himself as he flipped through its yellowed pages.
The blinds were drawn, only letting a halo of weak light seep in from outside. The corners of the room were deep in the shadows cast by numerous flickering candles.
“Yes, I see, these runes— So that’s what they mean.” He muttered, speaking to an unseen entity, “To think they were here in my possession all these years, gathering dust. This power, hidden underneath my very feet…”
A regretful grin twisted his lips as he shook his head, “I shall repeat after you, then.”
The air in the room began to rustle as he began speaking in ancient Fortus, tracing the words on the page with his fingers.
“I give this sacrifice of blood. By the will of my ancestors, let this be proof of my worthiness.”
He gingerly picked up a small silver dagger from in front of him. With a trembling hand he sliced a line across his left palm. He licked his dry lips as blood pooled in the well of his palm.
The room burst with daylight as the door suddenly flung open. Corbin and Master Reza stood in the doorway, their eyes falling upon the hunched back of the elder man.
Corbin’s eyes narrowed as he saw the dagger in Old Man Reza’s hand. He felt the excited spiritual energy in the air. His spiritual intuition flared as he felt the danger in the room.
“Father, stop!” Master Reza shouted, running into the room.
Corbin stretched out his hand, not wasting any time as he cast a stasis over Old Man Reza. The elder man froze unnaturally, his hand hovering over the pages of the small book, its pages filled with ancient runes.
The ritual must need blood to activate the runes on the pages. Corbin quickly deciphered.
“Grab the book.” Corbin said with urgency. At full concentration Corbin could only hold the stasis for a few seconds, even less if Old Man Reza was an Exalted.
The younger Reza strode in, grabbing the yellowed pages from the floor in front of his father. He was also able to grab the silver dagger, taking a quick step away, “I’ve got them!”
That should be enough to stop it— Corbin felt his hold on the stasis wane at the normal amount of time. Meaning that Old Man Reza likely wasn’t Exalted.
As time resumed for the elder man his lips turned upward in a grin as he turned over his bloody palm, striking down at the place where the book was just a moment before, as if he hadn’t noticed that the book had gone missing.
No, wait! Corbin realized too late what had happened. It wasn’t the book—?
Tiny capillaries of light began to shine in the woodwork where Old Man Reza had thrust his palm. The light spread out in a burst of silver that illuminated the complex geometrical runes secretly embedded in the century old wood.
“Father!” Master Reza cried out in surprise.
The voice seemed to shock the old man out of his thoughts as he turned to look at his son. He had been unaware of his son’s entrance. From his perspective the book in front of him had disappeared the moment before he pressed his hand down to activate the runes.
“Son?” His voice was bewildered and confused.
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A pulse of blinding aetheric light enveloped the three men, filling the room with saturated blues and reds. The colours shifted once more, revealing a thousand stars on a backdrop of a deep black void. Finally, all was consumed in a blinding, purifying white light.
When the light faded the three men had disappeared.
The silver dagger clattered to the ground and was still.
In various places throughout the complex and the surrounding estate hidden runes activated, bursting with the flurry of colours and light.
~
Firuzeh’s eyes fluttered open as she regained consciousness. She was in the dark corridor just beyond the ritual chamber where she had fallen. Frantic firelight danced upon the stones from the chamber. The stench of smoke and fire filled her lungs.
Groggy, she instinctively pushed herself to a kneeling position. She felt a hand take her forearm to help steady her. Her blurry vision focused on the hand and the glittering rings that adorned the fingers.
Her eyes rose to meet the clear blue eyes of the man who had saved her. His golden locks shimmered in the frantic light. A wry grin was on his lips.
“Have no fear.” Cecil said, seeing the suspicion in her eyes, “Fate has deemed us allies for the time being.”
She instinctively pressed a hand against her abdomen, finding it healed with no pain. Cecil nodded, confirming that he had saved her life.
“The servants,“ Firuzeh urgently spoke the next thing that came to her mind, “Their blood ritual must be stopped.”
If escape was an option Firuzeh would also have suggested that. After all, self-preservation was the highest priority for an Exalted. This was even more true knowing that this was a sacrificial ritual that targeted Exalted.
However Firuzeh already had tried and failed to escape prior to her capture. Disrupting the ritual then, was the surest way to disrupt the arrangements of the enemy and open a way out.
“Blood ritual?” Cecil frowned, casting his eyes over to the doorway where smoke billowed over the trail of Firuzeh’s blood.
“The Trial of Succession.” The voice of a teenage boy came from behind Cecil. Cheen had a hand on the dual sword hilts at his waist, the other holding the lantern they had used to navigate the mausoleum. “We arrived at the perfect time.”
There was a reverence in his voice, a divine purpose glimmering from his serious gaze. After their encounter and battle with the sentry outside the servants’ quarters, Cecil and him had quickly found a hidden entrance to the underground. By pure luck they had made it to the heart of the mausoleum without a hitch.
Cheen accepted this turn of events readily. Luck was an aspect of Fate, after all.
He set down the lantern and drew his swords.
Firuzeh accepted the alliance readily. Chance encounters, fluid relationships, these were all part of the Exalted world. As a mercenary she had plenty of experience with switching sides on the turn of a dime. Cecil’s gesture of healing her was more than enough to grant her support for the moment.
She rose to her feet, steeling herself for action. She didn’t expect that he helped her out of charity. If Cecil spent the time to save her it meant he needed her assistance.
Firuzeh raised a hand to the crystal pendant around her neck.
Rados, how can we take care of the ritual? Firuzeh transmitted with her thoughts. There was no response.
Her memory returned to her as she recalled the actions of the Head of Staff, the feeling of her soul being sucked out of her body followed by a snapping sensation. The devotee had thought that her ritual had succeeded in ripping out Firuzeh’s soul and completely dropped her defenses. Firuzeh was able to use that moment of distraction to release her bonds and get free.
Did that mean that Rados’ soul had been taken in her place?
It wasn’t the angel’s complete soul, simply a piece of it that he had embedded within Firuzeh’s body.
A complex swirl of emotions filled Firuzeh as she tried and failed once more to call out to Rados. There was the relief of being free from his influence, but also fear. What would happen when his main body found out about this? Would he hunt her down? Punish her? Take residence in her body once more?
These thoughts churned through her mind in a matter of seconds. She quickly pushed them out of the way to focus on their current predicament. Without Rados she lacked access to his millennia of experience and knowledge that gave her a critical advantage in tight spots.
Though she had dreamed for years of being free of him, she also relied on and benefited greatly from him.
A part of her didn’t even believe that he was truly gone. Perhaps the ritual had only weakened him, or perhaps he was simply hiding for the moment, but still watching her…
“How do we stop the ritual?” Cheen asked, looking to Cecil and Firuzeh for help.
For once, Firuzeh found herself looking to someone else to make the critical decision. Her eyes fell on Cecil whose brow was creased in a deep thoughtful frown.
“We don’t.” He said after a moment, an indecisive look in his eyes. “This isn’t our job here.”
“This isn’t part of the trial, Cecil-joon?” Cheen’s eyes flickered from the door to the mage, confused.
“No, something’s wrong. We—“
Cecil’s sentence was interrupted as a terrible mechanical screech came from within the chamber. All three of the Exalted instinctively covered their ears as the shrill sound pierced their bodies painfully.
The sound reverberated through the stone floor and walls, fading away. The fiery light coming from the chamber hadn’t changed in quality, and the black smoke continued to billow out from the doorway, blocking the view of what was happening within.
Their spiritual intuitions flared, and the three were overcome with dread as they felt a deeply corrupt power awaken beyond the smoke.