“A fine night, isn’t it?” Leylin spun dark strings from his fingertips, coiling them around the soulgem in his open, bleeding chest. Creating a new soul was one thing, but repairing his own when his nora was leaking and limited? That had proven long and arduous.

The man with the silver eyes traced the runes on the stone corridor behind him. “It’s not night time,” he replied. “We’re just underground.”

“Details.” Leylin chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “Things worked out better than we had hoped for.” He winced as part of his chest sizzled and smoked. He really ought to focus more when doing this. “Everything is in place.”

“Despite Andre waging war ahead of time?” The man breathed heavily under his mask. “In the end, your disease didn’t even slow them down.”

“Just a slight miscalculation on my part,” Leylin waved his hand dismissively.

“A slight miscalculation that rendered the original plan useless.”

“Good plans leave room for adaptation, do they not?” Leylin twirled his finger and another tiny hole in his soul sealed up. At this rate he’d be done within the week and ready to take on the next aspect. “I’m sure I can come up with other ways to even out the playing field for Silyra and Andre.”

“Hopefully they won’t require me retrieving your soulgem agai–”

Leylin held up a hand to stop him. The sound of footsteps and laboured breathing filled the gloomy tunnel, like music to Leylin’s ears. “Ah, here they come,” he whispered. “This is exciting!”

The man with the silver eyes stepped in front of Leylin protectively. There was a low rumble as the stone shifted away to reveal Caelus’ form, grasping his stomach as he walked. He fell on the ground with a grunt of pain as the wall reformed behind him. The man lay there, panting.

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“Hello?” Leylin called out from the darkness.

Caelus’ head snapped up. “No…” His voice trembled with denial. “How– Why are you here?”

“I’m waiting for you of course.” Leylin healed his chest and stood, blacks wisps of nora still leaking from his face and pooling beneath his clothes. “It seems we’re fated to meet under the earth, Archmage.”

“Please spare me.” Caelus brought his trembling hands together. “I can aid you. I can help you!”

“You had your chance. Men of thin principle are useful, you know? As long as they know not to cross me.” Leylin smiled. “But don’t worry. I won’t kill you.”

“Y-You won’t?” Caelus stammered, face lighting up.

“Nope!” Leylin pointed to the wall behind Caelus. “But I can’t say the same about him.”

There was a soft thud as Caelus’ head found the ground. The hope on his face warped to agony, then grew still. Atinas whipped the blood of his misty tendril and withdrew it under his robe. He slowly turned his head to face Leylin, and the man with the silver eyes. Then he knelt.

“I sent Rane to Danira, as you instructed,” he said. “How did you know the siblings would be there?”

“My information network is vast and efficient, Atinas. You should know. You’re part of it yourself.” Leylin drew closer, running a hand under Atinas’ hood and stroking the side of his neck. It was cold. “You did good, getting to Rane so quickly after we lost him to the aspect. I’d hate to see what Caelus would do to him.”

“It was mere luck,” Atinas replied, kneeling still.

“Part of your charm, I’d argue,” Leylin chuckled. “You’ll definitely need good fortune for your next task.”

Atinas tilted his head up. “What do I have to do?”

“The new shunter… Drayton’s son. I believe his name is Damien.” Leylin reached into the lapel of his jacket and pulled out a long needle hidden in the fabric. He placed it in Atinas’ palm, where it pulsed with a sickening green light. “Bring him to me alive.”

Atinas looked down at the metal, before sliding it inside his robe. “I understand.”

“You should be heading back now. You have a prodigy to train.” Leylin turned around and let the shadows of the undercity swallow him. “And I have false gods to slay.”