In the courtyard below, shadows move with purpose. Not random darkness, but organized formations. An army of bone-wights marching in perfect ranks, their green fire eyes burning in the night.
"The Marshal’s legion," Krath growls. "He masses for the final assault."
Yes. He grows impatient. Soon he will simply take what he wants rather than wait for it to be given.
The image shifts in my mind—Krath overwhelmed by numbers, cut down by the very creatures he once commanded. My own death following moments later as our binding drags me into darkness with him.
Unless.
"How many?" I ask, though I can already see the answer. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. More than even Krath could face.
"Too many." His voice is grim as winter stone. "If they all attack at once..."
He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t need to.
But there is another way, little scholar. A way to save him. To save yourself. All it requires is courage.
I clutch the black book tighter, feeling its warmth seep into my hands. Inside its pages might be the answer—a way to break the binding before the Marshal can use it against us.
Read it. Learn. Choose.
"We should keep moving," Krath says, but I’m already opening the book.
The text is in the same ancient script as the bell chronicles, but somehow I can read it perfectly. As if the knowledge flows directly into my mind.
"Severance of Soul-Bonds in Extremis," I read silently. "When death approaches and time grows short, the wise practitioner may choose to break all chains rather than let them be used as weapons."
Yes. Read on.
The ritual described is complex but not impossible. It requires blood and will and the absolute certainty of purpose. But the cost...
"The severing requires the practitioner to offer their own life-force as payment," I continue reading. "The bond is broken, but the one who performs the ritual..."
Dies. Yes. A small price for such a great gift.
I snap the book shut, my hands shaking. The ancient presence practically purrs with satisfaction.
Now you understand. You can free him, little witch. All it takes is one moment of courage.
"Rhea." Krath’s voice makes me jump. He’s watching me with those burning red eyes, and I realize I’ve been standing here too long. "What did you find?"
"Nothing useful." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "Just more religious texts."
He studies my face, and I’m afraid he can see the truth written there. But after a moment, he nods.
"Come. We’re almost to the tower."
As we climb the final staircase, the ancient presence whispers constantly now. Showing me visions of possible futures—Krath free but alone, mourning my sacrifice but living. Better than both of us dying in chains.
The greater good, little scholar. Is that not what you sought when you came to this place? Knowledge that could change everything?
The tower chamber opens before us—a round space dominated by the massive bell that hangs from a framework of blessed silver. Even in the dim light, I can see the runes carved into its surface, the power that radiates from its ancient metal.
And beneath it, carved into the stone floor, is the summoning circle Brother Aldric wrote about. The one that calls the dead.
Here. This is where you choose.
Krath moves to examine the bell, but I hang back by the staircase entrance. The black book feels heavy in my hands, weighted with possibility and terrible purpose.
