They came down like broken puppets.
Bodies twisted by wire and sinew, eyes wide with manic devotion, teeth cracked from constant grinding. There were no ropes holding them up. No mechanisms. Just raw, unnatural gravity bending to a sick will that lived in the tower's bones.
Reya screamed first.
Not from fear—but from recognition.
"I've seen them," she gasped, back against the altar. "In the dreams. In the fucking visions."
Jace raised his blade.
"Lena—light them up!"
No need to tell her twice.
With a snap of her fingers, fire leapt from her palm and roared toward the descending things. The first caught instantly, screaming in a pitch that shouldn't exist in any human throat. But even as it burned, it reached. Its arms stretched longer, skin tearing, joints bending backward. Another landed behind it, head twitching.
Jace didn't wait.
He charged.
His sword cleaved through one creature's chest—black ichor spraying across the wall like tar—but the body didn't fall. It clung to the blade, mouth gaping, and bit down. Teeth shattered against the metal, but the thing didn't stop. It grinned wider, as if the pain was pleasure.
Jace yanked the blade free and slammed his boot into its face, sending it toppling into the shadows.
"They don't care if they die!" he shouted.
Lena was a blur beside him, flames dancing in arcs around her hands. She moved like a dancer, elegant and deadly, but even she was slowing down. The air fought her now—dampened her heat. Each fireball grew smaller, each motion heavier.
The tower was learning.
Adapting.
"Reya!" Jace yelled. "Can you move?"
She tried. Failed.
Blood trickled from her ears now.
"It's in my head," she whispered. "It's whispering. Begging."
Then the altar began to pulse.
Softly. Steadily. Like a heartbeat syncing to something ancient and vile. The obsidian glass shifted, and from it… a tendril slid out. Not a physical one. Not flesh or vine—but memory. A looping thread of thought. Of pain.
And it touched Reya.
She screamed.
And something deep within the tower woke up.
The ceiling cracked above them.
And from the fissures, light poured down.
But it wasn't holy.
It was raw. Bleached. Unnatural. It made the blood in their veins feel like mercury. Their thoughts slowed. Mouths dried. And then… a voice.
No tongue. No accent. Just pure intention.
"Feed me what you've stolen. The Seeker. The Flame. The Hollow God. Give them to me."
Jace dropped to one knee, breath shallow.
Lena fell to both hands, eyes wide in defiance.
Reya…
Reya stood.
Her back arched. Her eyes rolled white. And when her mouth opened, it wasn't her voice that came out.
"You want a vessel? Here's your damn vessel."
And the altar exploded.
Shards of obsidian ripped through the air, cutting through limbs, faces, even the walls themselves. One shard buried itself in Jace's thigh—hot, burning, like a brand. He didn't scream. Couldn't. The air had been sucked from his lungs.
Lena grabbed his arm, dragging him behind a cracked pillar.
"What the fuck just happened?" she panted.
"I think… Reya broke it," he rasped.
"No," Lena said, peeking out.
Reya was floating.
Not high—just inches. But she wasn't touching the floor.
And her voice was layered now. Hers, and something beneath. Something hungry.
"They tried to hollow me out," she said. "To make me the womb for whatever they're birthing. But it made a mistake…"
Her eyes locked with Jace's.
"…It touched me. And now I remember."
The puppets screeched, charging her.
She raised her hand.
A wave of pressure rippled out. Not wind. Not fire. Just pure force. It hit the creatures like a freight train, smashing them against the walls, cracking bones, bursting skin. One split entirely—vertically. Like it had been unzipped by a giant's hand.
Jace pushed himself up, gripping his leg.
The shard still glowed in his thigh.
And with every heartbeat, something moved inside it.
"Lena," he said. "I think this is… doing something to me."
She looked. Her face paled.
"Your veins," she said. "They're turning black."
He glanced down.
She wasn't wrong.
Dark lines crawled up from the wound, pulsing, branching like roots under his skin.
"I don't feel pain," he muttered.
"That's not good."
"But I feel—powerful."
Lena didn't like the sound of that.
But she said nothing.
Instead, she turned back to Reya, who now hovered above the ruined altar.
"What do we do with her?" Lena asked.
Jace grimaced. "We let her burn the room."
And Reya did.
She raised both hands.
The altar melted. The walls cracked. And the last of the creatures screamed one final, desperate wail—before being incinerated in an explosion of light and memory.
When it was over…
Silence.
Smoke.
Ash.
Reya fell, caught by Lena before she hit the ground.
Jace stumbled over.
His blade was still intact. His thigh still throbbed.
But inside that wound… something was awake.
And it wasn't leaving.