Connor stood in the library surrounded by musty parchment, looking down at the carpet. Dim light filtered in from windows built into the ceiling. Occasionally Focalor’s shadow would pass overhead. Could the demon see Connor standing in the library watching him fly by?

Up close the carpet design looked less distinct. Whoever made it had woven the skull in as part of a larger design. If a person wasn’t expecting to find the marker they might look right past it. Hiding things in plain sight was a trick used by the Horned One’s cult and over the years Connor had gotten used to finding hidden symbols. Tentacles of soul force pushed the tables and chairs off the carpet then yanked it to the side. Underneath was an oval depression, a twin to the one in the pyramid.

Connor took his amulet off and with trembling hands fit it into the oval. The floor vibrated then black flames spurted up between the cracks. Connor leapt back an instant before the stone sank down, forming a spiral staircase. He hadn’t seen any sign of it when his scout sphere searched the palace. The staircase had to run between the walls. There was certainly enough room that no one would ever notice if a wall was thicker than it needed to be. For all Connor knew hidden passages might have been the rage when the palace was built.

He conjured a light and started walking. He had no idea how long he walked or how deep he went, but finally the enclosed stairs opened up into a dark, empty room. Connor frowned. Where were the artifacts?

Light spheres streaked to the far corners of the room. He left the staircase and walked around the empty space, his footsteps echoing around the chamber. Was this some sort of joke? Was King Alexious having a final laugh at his expense?

The room shook, a violent shudder that brought dust raining down on Connor’s head. Now what was happening? He spun, looking for the source of the tremor.

Movement caught his eye. When Connor turned, a giant of black flame separated itself from the far wall. The construct—Connor had no doubt the giant was a soul force construct—lumbered closer. It was built like a man, with massive shoulders and long arms ending in three-fingered hands. It stood on legs as big around as full grown oaks. Its head was nothing but an oblong lump sitting on its trunk. Power surged down its arm and formed a flickering blade of black flame longer than Connor was tall.

The construct strode toward him, raising its weapon as it came. Connor took to the air. The giant swung its blade.

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Connor darted aside. The passing of the blade raised a breeze. Before the giant halted its momentum Connor blasted it with a stream of hellfire.

The construct absorbed the energy and grew taller. The sword whistled at Connor, faster this time. He just managed to avoid getting cut in half.

Connor zipped around the giant like a bug, annoying but harmless.

He avoided three more swipes. Though faster, the construct still failed to keep pace with him. Unfortunately, since it could absorb his attacks, Connor had no idea how to defeat it. They were at a standoff. That didn’t work for him at all.

He flew around the construct, dodging its ineffective attacks, and studying it from every angle. There had to be a way to deal with it. Everything had a weakness, he just needed to figure out what the construct’s was.

Connor squinted and peered closer. Something floated, just visible, inside the construct’s chest. The black sword swished past his head, only missing by inches. Connor snarled away his frustration. He had to focus.

He was almost certain whatever floated in the giant’s chest was the key to stopping it. He took a breath, fortified his shield, and plunged toward the giant.

The black sword came up.

Connor ducked under it a moment before he struck the construct. His shield was stripped away in an instant. Cold and heat warred in their efforts to kill him.

Connor fought the darkness. His skin melted and healed one second to the next.

Even when the Horned One ripped his soul out and replaced it with a fragment of his own the pain didn’t come close to what Connor experienced as he fought through the construct’s body.

A flicker of movement to his left. He flailed, hit something hard, and grabbed on.

More pain as whatever he grabbed attempted to burn his hand off. Teeth clenched, Connor forced his way out the back of the construct. He fell twelve feet to the floor.

Every inch of his body was screaming. He would welcome the giant’s sword if only it would end the agony.

Seconds passed. Connor uncurled his pain-wracked body and looked up. The giant had vanished.

Connor sent healing energy through his body, soothing his pain. Skin reformed and in minutes Connor had recovered. He loved many things about his new abilities, but the thing he loved most was that his demonic soul force worked as internal or external power, just like a true demon.

He sat up and brushed dead skin off his arm. The battle and healing had drained him. He didn’t dare try to move on before he’d recovered. Connor opened his left hand. Almost imbedded in the flesh was a flat, rune-covered stone maybe three inches around. He probed it with a little tendril of soul force.

The token had served as an energy storage device. Whoever created the giant had filled the token with sustaining energy then stuck it in the construct’s chest. Connor frowned. No way the little artifact had held enough power to sustain the construct for centuries. Whoever put it here had done so more recently. A few months ago perhaps. Certainly not more than a year.

That begged another question. Who had set the trap?