With the fight finally over, the four headed towards the passage still hidden in the corner. For Jasper and Ihra, the flight was a short one; in a matter of seconds, they reached the part of the cavern floor that the strange being hadn’t destroyed, and set down. For Tsia, the trip was a bit more difficult; with Nesu still clinging to her left leg like a toddler to his mommy’s, her attempts at flight were even slower and jerkier than usual.

But it was worse for Nēs̆u. When the Sicyan warrior finally dropped down to the ground, his face was flushed with a mixture of shame and irritation. “I can’t believe I missed the whole bloody fight,” he groused, to no one in particular. “Not one hit – I didn’t even get one hit in. All that experience, just gone to waste.”

Tsia scoffed. “You’ve got more levels than any of us, Nēs̆u. Would you prefer I let you fall into the chasm?”

The man’s scowl deepened for a second, but then his irritation seemed to vanish like the early morning fog, and he nodded his head. “Probably,” he agreed cheerfully. “I’m pretty sure I would have survived that fall and if not – well, at least I would have died with my dignity intact.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Well then, I’m sorry for saving you. Next time I won’t.”

Her guardian grinned. “I’ll hold you to that promise, my lady.” But his cheerful mood vanished as suddenly as it had come. “We really should get going, though. If the guards realized we killed that creature, they might panic and try to kill the prisoners."

Reminded of their mission, the four began to jog into the darkness, following the faint current of fresh air that wafted through the cavern. Ihra led the way, as her eyes were better suited than the others to the lack of light, but the going was slower than Jasper would have preferred. The passage was cramped and uneven, a winding pathway full of large boulders and cramped squeezes that indicated it was part of a natural cavern system. But it rose steadily upward, twisting and turning until it opened out into a large hall – they were back in the dungeon.

The room was some sort of dining area. Nearly a dozen long, rectangular tables filled the center, each one ringed by a low-lying ridge of stone that functioned as a bench. But that wasn't the only thing that filled the room - dozens upon dozens of S̆addu’â were waiting for them.

A row of guards stood in the front, decked out in the same strange bassinets as the strangely childish guards had worn, but the bulk of the crowd that stood behind them bore little in the way of arms and armor. A few sported the light leather armor and weapons hunters sometimes used, but most of the crowd carried nothing beyond spears, clubs, or the occasional pitchfork.

Billowing waves of blue flames bloomed on his hand as Jasper took in the foe. There were so many - and yet. They are just villagers. Most of the Djinn stumbled back at the display of magic, their faces filled with fear and their weapons shaking, and a sick feeling swelled in the pit of his stomach. He knew the Saddu’a weren’t the nicest of folks, but killing largely defenseless villagers just wasn’t something he wanted to do. Hell, he wasn’t entirely sure he even wanted to kill the guards; if Ihra was right, they might be little more than children.

As he hesitated, one of the guards stepped forward. The boar spear in his hand shook like a leaf, but he planted his feet resolutely. “Is the Ilābun dead?”

“Ilābun?” Jasper questioned. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that word, but if you’re referring to the living statue in the cave below, yes.”

A wave of murmurs washed over the crowd, but the guard ignored them. “You killed the Ilābun?” He persisted. “You’re sure?”

Ihra stepped beside him. Pulling her cloak down, she let the crowd see her small antlers, sending another wave of murmurs through the villagers. “We watched him crumble and fall into the void,” she confirmed. “The Ilābun is dead.”

The spear dropped from the guard’s hand first, followed by the clatter of dozens of other weapons as most of the crowd prostrated themselves on the ground. Advancing a few feet, the guard dropped to his knees right before Jasper. “Please, my lord mage, spare us. Take whomever you want, whatever you want, and go in peace. Just let us live.”

Jasper hesitated. He remembered the bodies of the scouts outside, displayed like trophies for all to see, and his voice hardened. “And what about the soldiers you killed? Should we simply forget about them?” The guard removed his helmet, revealing a child-like face. Glossy brown curls tumbled like a waterfall down soft, chubby cheeks that were marred by purple streaks. Yet Jasper also noticed a change – already, the purple was beginning to turn on the edges, a sickly yellow color that seemed to diffuse across the cheek.

“Forgive us, lord mage – we only did what we were told. How could ones like us disobey the will of Ilābun’s will?” He gestured to the purple flesh. “Is his mark not upon us even now?”

The guard’s words left a sour taste in his mouth. “We were just following orders.” It wasn't a good excuse back on Earth, but in this world – where magical compulsion was a real possibility and where the gulf between those who wielded power and those who did not was magnified to an even greater extent – Jasper recognized that assigning blame and responsibility was more complicated. Did they have a choice? He honestly didn’t know.

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Ihra, unaware of his inner turmoil, stepped forward and reached her hand out to the guard’s face. She gently traced a finger across one of the purplish streaks, but she yanked her hand back quickly when he winced in pain. “What did he do to you?” A few tears rolled down the cheeks of the guard, but he didn't respond.

Instead, it was one of the villagers who stepped forward. Unlike most, he was clad in a full set of armor and had carried a well-crafted sword, before he’d laid it down in surrender. A series of silver chains were strung between his long, black horns, and an ornate torc sat around his neck. The village chief, Jasper guessed.

The man bowed low to her. “It is rare to see a child of the Crimson Goddess in our mountains.”

Ihra wrinkled her nose but said nothing – the Blood Moon was certainly not the hypostatization of Selene that she worshipped, but it was hardly surprising it appealed to the mountain Djinn. She gestured for him to continue.

“When the Ilab̄un ascended from the depths, he took control of our – my – village. Our men were tasked with guarding his sleep and securing his prey and our women –“ Pain flashed in his eyes, and he quickly lowered his gaze in shame. “Their task was to bear his seed.”

“The children born to him were…strange. They bore the same marks as he but lacked his power. They grew far faster than they should, reaching adult size in just a few years, yet something was wrong with them. No matter how hard the men of the village trained them, his offspring barely gained any levels at all.” The Saddu’a chieftain hesitated. “I think, perhaps, he was feeding on them somehow, stealing the levels they gained for himself, but the ways of an Ilābun are mysterious.”

The man’s gaze hardened. “Do not worry, lady elf. When you leave, we will dispose of the abominations properly.”

A woman in the back wailed at his words, only quieting when the man standing next to her clapped a hand over her mouth, and silence fell over the room.

Jasper locked eyes with the chieftain, a mixture of anger and confusion roiling inside him. A part of him agreed with the Djinn’s sentiments. These guards had killed the scouts he’d come to save and were the offspring of that vile thing – who knew what corruption might lurk within? But another part of him recoiled at the thought. One look at the guard kneeling before him, at the tears streaming down his chubby cheeks, and Jasper knew he couldn’t do it. These were little more than children.

Lifting his hand, he released the spell he’d been holding and cast another instead. Purge. The guard shifted uncomfortably, his hand touching his throat, but there was no sign of any damage. He may not have been innocent exactly, but he hadn’t done anything bad enough to be judged by the gods.

Jasper sighed. “Surely you don’t mean to tell me that if I choose to spare their lives, you’ll kill them anyway?”

The chieftain sensed his mistake immediately. “Of course not, lord mage,” he agreed immediately, but Jasper could see the shifty look in his eyes. Yep, he’s going to kill them as soon as I leave. Crap.

He turned to face the rest of his team and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He's going to kill them. Should we intervene?”

“We should take them with us,” Ihra immediately replied. “They’re practically children.”

“Children of some sort of monster. Who knows what sort of…” Tsia paused, searching for the right word, “desires might overtake them as they mature. But..." Tsia hesitated, "descent isn't destiny. They don't deserve to be killed just because of their parentage.”

Jasper glanced at Nēs̆u, who had stayed silent. “Any thoughts?”

The Sicyan shrugged. “I’d kill them all, here and now. But why bother asking us? You’ve already made your decision.”

Jasper scowled at the man's blunt answer but, if he was honest with himself, he had to admit the warrior was correct. He had made his decision. He felt no qualms about killing the guilty, but killing the potentially guilty was a little too Minority Report-esque for his tastes.

Turning back to the waiting villagers, Jasper raised his voice. “I have a counter-proposal,” he stated. Deciding to put on a show he raised his hand and pumped essence into it, until a steady stream of blue flames flickered along his fingers, reminding them that he was a mage not to be messed with. “Any of the Djinn born from this Ilābun may come with me as long as they are willing to pass one test. I have a spell, a spell that judges the soul and passes judgment on the wicked. If you fail, it will devour you whole, but if you pass, you may come with me to S̆addānu.”

Fear passed across the face of many of the guards, and Jasper worried they would refuse. He couldn't exactly blame them - he'd basically offered them Russian roulette, but it was still more of a chance of life then they would have if the chieftain had his way. Desperate to convince them, Jasper pointed to the guard still kneeling before him. “This one has already passed the test,” he reassured them. The guard lifted his head, eyes wide with surprise and sudden hope, and Jasper plastered on a gracious smile. “One little test is all it takes. Or you can stay here in the village.” His eyes shot to the Djinn chieftain, and his message was not lost on those gathered.

One by one, Djinn marked with the purple streaks trickled up to him. They weren’t all guards; a number of true children were brought to him, still clutching their mother’s hand, but he cast the spell on them one and the same. He cast Purge again and again until his head began to throb with the impending onset of essence starvation. He had to rest then, but once his essence recovered, he continued.

Thirty-one passed the test. Four died.

The village chieftain watched with a scowl as Jasper tested the Ilabun’s offspring, but he did not intervene. If he’d had any thoughts of protesting, they were thoroughly crushed when Annatta appeared leading a band of freed scouts. Fighting two mages was a poor decision, but perhaps in a cramped room, they could have won with enough sacrifices; fighting two mages backed by a small troop of royal soldiers, on the other hand, was just a death sentence.

When the last of the volunteers passed the test, a few of the Saddu’a still remained who sported the strange purple streaks. Perhaps they knew they wouldn’t survive Purge or perhaps they were simply too afraid to take the chance, but Jasper let them go. He wasn’t willing to take the untested with him.