The sky looked like the end of the world.
The clean blue above Mirekeep vanished beneath rolling masses of crimson cloud. They churned like boiling blood across the heavens, thick enough to crush the city by weight alone. The light turned red. Walls, armor, faces, banners—everything drowned beneath that sickly glow.
The wind carried the stink of wet earth, grave rot, and burning marrow.
On the city wall, surrounded by armored officers and veteran guards, Rovan Ashford stood motionless beneath the snapping folds of his thousand-crane warcloak. Every few moments the gale lifted the heavy cloth and exposed the gleam of silver scale armor beneath, but the young marquis himself did not move.
His face had gone hard as forged iron.
Behind him gathered the wanderers, free adepts, mercenaries, hunters, and hedge mystics who had answered Mirekeep's call for aid. None of them looked eager now. Most kept their eyes fixed ahead while pretending not to tremble.
Fear still leaked through.
Even the strongest among them swallowed too often.
Farther back stood Isara Ashvane and the women of Vane's Summit.
Their flowing robes and slim figures looked almost fragile amid the forest of shields, halberds, and black armor. Silk ribbons fluttered in the bitter wind. They resembled flowers blooming among spearheads.
Beautiful.
Out of place.
And terribly exposed.
Before Mirekeep, the Bone Legion advanced.
An endless tide of skeletal soldiers flooded across the plains beneath the crimson sky. The dead moved in disciplined ranks through curtains of drifting red dust, their rusted weapons lifted high while murderous aura rolled ahead of them in waves.
Sylva Dreyn inhaled sharply.
"All of them are Blood Variants..." she murmured.
Her usually calm voice carried genuine alarm now.
The skeletons below were not ordinary undead. Fell energy had hardened and strengthened them. Crimson veins pulsed through cracked bones. Green fire burned in empty eye sockets.
Thousands upon thousands.
Isara did not answer immediately. Her pale gaze remained fixed upon the blood-red clouds overhead.
"And there's a large-scale dark rite supporting them," she said quietly. "Their strength is being amplified."
She finally lowered her eyes toward the approaching legion.
"Mirekeep may not survive this."
Auryn Gale glanced toward the gathered free adepts nearby.
"Those people can't help?" she asked in a low voice.
Isara stayed silent.
Sylva answered instead with a grim shake of her head.
"I checked earlier. There aren't many real experts among them." She exhaled bitterly. "The strongest are only a few Reverends from the Violet Sky Lodge. In a battle this size... they're worth less than the three hundred Demon Hunters from Dawnbreaker Hold."
Mira Stonwell looked uneasy.
"But Kael's Sixth Elder-Uncle is here too, isn't he?" she asked softly. "He's unbelievably powerful. Surely he can handle these undead things?"
A strange look crossed Isara's face.
"For many years now," she said, "he has stopped involving himself in worldly affairs."
Mira frowned in confusion.
"He'd really just watch Mirekeep fall? Watch everyone die?"
Isara did not answer.
The white-haired woman merely turned her attention back toward the battlefield below, calm and unreadable as stone.
The Bone Legion kept coming.
At the front marched several colossal horrors that towered above the rest of the army.
Bone Towers.
Each step carried them dozens of feet forward. Their massive skeletal frames shook the earth beneath them. Entire clusters of undead clung to their ribs, shoulders, and spine-like protrusions.
Within the gigantic skulls sat skeletal sorcerers wrapped in tattered crimson robes.
The sorcerers began swinging black staves through the air.
A moment later, a crushing Intimidating Aura exploded outward.
Invisible.
Silent.
Overwhelming.
It swept toward Mirekeep like an ocean.
The soldiers on the wall stiffened instantly.
Most belonged to the Iron Maw Legion, hardened veterans who had fought bandits, rebels, beasts, and foreign armies across the empire. Ward-scripts had already been pasted inside their armor to protect their minds.
Even so, panic rippled through the ranks.
The sight of those nightmare giants stomping across the plain filled men with helplessness. Despair spread faster than plague.
Mira counted under her breath.
"One... two... three..."
Her face turned pale.
"There are eight of them."
"No wonder the Intimidating Aura is so strong," she whispered. "Without the ward-scripts, we would've lost before the battle even started."
Sylva narrowed her eyes.
"There may be more." Her voice grew darker. "Back above Mirwatch, we already saw seven or eight. They're attacking Mirekeep now. Ossian probably sent everything he has."
Auryn's golden eyes hardened.
"A slaughter's coming today," she said. "Stay sharp. Especially against that old monster controlling them."
Beside them, Zaeli shivered violently.
"Those skeleton-spiders are horrible too..." she muttered.
Isara suddenly turned toward Selene Voss.
The Crystalwave Soror stood apart from the others, staring blankly into the distance.
Distracted.
Unsteady.
"Selene," Isara said sharply.
Selene jerked as though waking from a dream.
"Ah?"
"This isn't the time to lose yourself in your thoughts." Isara's voice cut cold as a blade. "Whatever it is can wait until after the battle."
"Yes, Master."
Selene lowered her head immediately.
But even then, her expression remained troubled.
Her thoughts were nowhere near the battlefield.
They kept returning to Kael.
To the crimson clouds.
To the terrible feeling clawing at her chest since dawn.
Isara watched her for another moment before quietly speaking to Sylva.
"Keep an eye on her."
Sylva nodded once.
Then the battlefield erupted.
A long, monstrous howl rolled across the plains.
The Bone Legion surged forward all at once.
The dead advanced like a tidal wave.
Skeleton archers clinging to the Bone Towers raised warped bows toward the sky. Instantly, countless streaks of eerie green flame shot upward before arcing down toward Mirekeep's walls.
Hellfire.
The Iron Maw soldiers reacted quickly.
Heavy shields slammed together overhead, forming layered walls of iron and bronze.
Most of the ghostfire struck the defenses harmlessly.
But not all.
Several burning clumps splashed through gaps in the shield formations.
The green flames clung to flesh.
Men screamed.
One soldier dropped his weapon and rolled across the stone while clawing at his own chest. Another tore his helmet off and shrieked until blood burst from his throat. A third collapsed twitching as ghostfire ate through armor and skin alike.
Panic spread instantly.
Nearby defenders recoiled in terror, breaking formation.
The wanderers and free adepts reacted even worse.
Some fled from the walls altogether. Others shoved through terrified soldiers trying to save themselves first. One grey-bearded hunter openly cursed himself for ever answering Mirekeep's call.
Rovan Ashford's face darkened.
"Uncover the weapons!" he roared. "Prepare to fire!"
The order thundered down the walls.
At once, crews ripped heavy oilcloth coverings from massive constructs stationed every few dozen yards along the battlements.
The Earthrend Arbalests.
Each siege weapon resembled a monstrous steel-and-wood beast lying flat upon the wall. More than twenty feet long and nearly eight feet wide, they possessed rotating mechanisms, reinforced bow-arms, crank systems, rune-carved wheels, and channels lined with glowing inscriptions.
They were Lyra Farrow's work.
The masterpiece she had overseen night and day.
Now the Bone Towers closed to within sixty yards of the walls.
The undead clinging to them became fully visible.
Each giant carried over twenty skeleton archers, dozens of hook-bearing climbers, and nearly a hundred axe-wielding skeletal guards. They snarled and rattled against the bones beneath them like insects crawling over a corpse.
The arbalest crews cranked desperately.
Heavy mechanisms screamed.
Massive bowstrings tightened.
The enormous Warding-Vase Bamboo bolts slowly adjusted angle and direction beneath shouted commands from nearby officers.
Rovan lifted one hand.
A military officer beside him bellowed:
"FIRE!"
The world shook.
More than a dozen Earthrend Arbalests unleashed simultaneously.
The gigantic bolts screamed through the air like thunderbolts.
One struck a Bone Tower directly in the shoulder.
The explosion blasted bone fragments across the battlefield. More than a dozen skeletal soldiers were hurled free from the giant and shattered upon the ground below.
Mira clapped instinctively.
"Yes!"
But the excitement vanished immediately.
Everyone else still looked grim.
Only one hit.
All the other shots missed.
And even the wounded Bone Tower did not fall.
It staggered for several moments before the skeletal sorcerers inside its skull corrected its balance. The massive creature straightened again and continued marching forward.
The defenders' faces turned white.
Auryn cursed under her breath.
"These things are perfect siege monsters."
She stared at the advancing giants.
"Without the Earthrend Arbalests, ordinary defenses can't stop them."
Sylva nodded grimly.
"They're like moving fortress ladders. Fast ones."
Auryn frowned.
"Then why's the accuracy so terrible?"
"They're hard targets," Sylva answered quickly. "The Bone Towers move too fast." She glanced toward the crews. "And the arbalests were only finished a few days ago. The soldiers barely had time to train with them."
Mira's nervousness deepened.
"There are fewer than three hundred finished Warding-Vase Bamboo bolts," she whispered. "Every missed shot matters."
The second volley thundered out.
This time three bolts struck true.
But none hit the head.
None destroyed the targets.
The wounded Bone Towers slowed slightly, nothing more.
Then the foremost giant reached the outer defenses.
Massive sharpened barricades shattered beneath its feet. It crossed the moat almost effortlessly. Its colossal skeletal arm stretched toward the walls.
At this distance, the terror became unbearable.
Even with ward-scripts protecting their minds, the defenders could feel the enormity of the monsters looming over them. Fear spread from soldier to soldier like sickness.
Most had never faced enemies like this before.
Mirekeep possessed some of the highest walls in the empire, rising nearly eighty feet high in places.
Against the Bone Towers, that height barely reached the creatures' chests.
When the shadow of the lead giant swallowed the battlements, discipline finally broke.
Veterans stumbled backward.
Some threw down weapons.
Others collapsed outright.
Officers screamed threats and waved swords, but it accomplished nothing.
Traditional siege weapons suddenly felt pathetic.
Logs. Stones. Spears. Hooks.
Children's toys against nightmares.
Rovan Ashford strode toward the nearest Earthrend Arbalest.
The arbalest crew around it had frozen in terror.
"Shoot again!" he roared directly into their faces. "Aim for the head!"
The soldiers jolted awake.
They immediately began cranking the mechanisms again, trembling as they adjusted the massive bolt toward the towering skull above them.
Then the Bone Tower attacked.
Its gigantic arm lifted high into the blood-red sky before crashing down toward the walls with catastrophic force.
The impact sounded like the world splitting open.
Stone exploded.
A huge section of Mirekeep's wall collapsed instantly beneath the blow. Dozens of soldiers vanished under falling rubble, crushed into bloody paste before they could even scream.
At nearly the same moment, an Earthrend bolt tore through the air.
The gigantic projectile punched straight through the Bone Tower's chest.
Bone fragments erupted everywhere. Rotting organs and black blood splattered across the battlefield.
But still the monster did not die.
Driven by the skeletal sorcerers inside its skull, the crippled giant slammed itself into the damaged wall.
The collapse widened instantly.
Then the skeletal warriors clinging to its body leapt down in swarms.
Shrieking.
Howling.
Charging straight for the breach.
"Damn it!"
Rovan's eyes blazed.
"Again!" he screamed at the panicking arbalest crews. "Hit its fucking head! Miss again and I'll cut yours off myself!"
All elegance vanished from him in that moment.
Only a warlord remained.
---
"They're attacking Mirekeep!"
Kael Ashvane's voice cracked with alarm.
He stared toward the distant crimson sky, horror spreading across his face as the thunder of battle rolled faintly across the Dread Mire.
Lyra Farrow turned toward him sharply.
"You need to hide," she said immediately. "Find somewhere concealed and stay there. I'm going back to Mirekeep. Once things calm down, I'll send you away."
Kael shook his head instantly.
"No."
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"No?"
"I'm not leaving."
"You stubborn little idiot." Her voice sharpened. "Do you want to get caught?"
"Mirekeep's about to fall," Kael snapped back. "Everyone's fighting there. Bleeding there. How the hell am I supposed to run away and hide?"
"I'm going back to help."
Lyra stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Help?" she said coldly. "You'd be worse than useless."
She stepped closer.
"If you go back now, maybe the others won't notice immediately." Her eyes hardened. "But your Sixth Elder-Uncle will."
Kael's expression froze.
Lyra continued mercilessly.
"And once he catches you, what then? You think your master and that old monster won't tear the Covenant apart fighting over you?"
Kael opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Silence dragged between them.
Finally he muttered stubbornly:
"...Then I'll sneak back."
Lyra blinked once.
Kael crossed his arms defensively.
"I'll be careful. I just need to avoid running into Sixth Elder-Uncle."
Lyra Farrow folded her arms beneath her chest and stared at Kael like she was weighing whether to knock him unconscious and drag him into hiding herself.
"Your Sixth Elder-Uncle is one of the Covenant's finest trackers," she said sharply. "Think about it. You fled all the way out here, and he still managed to summon a Thunder General to hunt you down. If you return to Mirekeep, how exactly do you plan to stay hidden from him?"
Kael's jaw tightened.
The crimson pillars still burned in the distance beyond the black mire. The entire horizon looked wounded. Somewhere far away, thousands of men were probably already dying beneath those blood-red clouds.
He could not stomach the thought of running.
But another thought gnawed harder.
He hesitated before asking quietly, "Shreve… tell me something honestly."
Lyra looked at him.
"If Sixth Elder-Uncle drags me back to Phoenixspur to face the Primus…" Kael swallowed. "What happens to me?"
Lyra did not answer immediately.
That silence chilled him more than the cold swamp wind.
Kael forced out another question.
"Even if I carry demon blood… I've never slaughtered innocents. I've never betrayed the Covenant." His voice lowered. "Would the Primus really kill me for something I was born with?"
Lyra exhaled softly.
"The Primus is not a butcher," she said at last. "He would not execute you."
Kael relaxed for barely half a breath.
Then she continued.
"But if you ask me what he would actually do…" Her eyes hardened with reluctant honesty. "He would most likely imprison you forever."
Kael felt ice crawl down his spine.
Forever.
No sky.
No wandering roads.
No women.
No drinking.
No freedom.
A living burial.
His stomach twisted violently.
"Why?" he demanded bitterly. "If I haven't done anything wrong, why the hell would they do that to me?"
Lyra looked toward the crimson horizon.
"Because there's an old saying in the higher realms," she said quietly. "'When the Shadow Fox Lineage appears, the world descends into chaos.'"
Kael blinked.
"The last two descendants tied to that bloodline both triggered catastrophes that reshaped the fate of the Three Realms," Lyra continued. "Wars. Divine upheavals. Entire Orders shattered."
Kael stared at her in disbelief.
For a moment he almost laughed.
Him?
A half-trained runaway adept who got kicked around by half the world?
That was the monster the heavens feared?
Lyra turned back toward him.
"So no," she said firmly. "You are not returning to Mirekeep."
"But everyone else is there," Kael shot back immediately. "Rovan's there. The Iron Maw Legion's there. The others—"
"We already have enough problems," Lyra interrupted. "Mirekeep may not even survive the night."
Her tone sharpened.
"You going there changes nothing."
That stung harder than he expected.
"One more body doesn't matter?" Kael muttered darkly.
Lyra gave him a flat look.
"Correct."
Kael opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then his eyes shifted sideways as his thoughts started racing again.
"What if I just stay outside the city?" he said quickly. "I could hunt straggler undead around the outskirts. Hit small patrols. Avoid the main battlefield."
"No."
"The hell do you mean no?"
"The Bone Legion is fully mobilizing," Lyra said. "The area around Mirekeep will soon be crawling with undead. One mistake and you'll be surrounded."
Kael groaned in frustration and grabbed at her sleeve.
"Shreve, come on. We have to do something."
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"You're not listening to a word I say, are you?"
"I am listening!"
"Then obey me."
Kael's grip loosened slightly.
"You promised me something earlier," Lyra said coldly. "Did you already forget?"
Kael immediately shook his head.
"No! I didn't forget."
He remembered very clearly.
Stay alive.
Do not throw himself away.
Trust her.
The problem was that every instinct in his body rebelled against hiding while others fought.
"It just feels wrong," he muttered. "Standing here while everybody risks their lives…"
Lyra watched him silently.
For once, the usual teasing mockery in her expression faded.
Instead she looked thoughtful.
Then suddenly her eyes brightened.
"I've got it."
Kael blinked.
"What?"
Lyra slowly began pacing.
"Mirekeep is the largest fortress in the Dread Mire," she said. "Strong walls. Massive supplies. Heavy troop presence."
Kael nodded impatiently.
"And because of that," Lyra continued, "the Bone Legion will commit the bulk of its forces to the siege."
Kael's eyes widened.
"Oh."
A grin spread across his face.
"Oh, that's filthy."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"Their nest should be emptier than usual right now."
Kael barked out a laugh.
"You want to hit the Bone Warren?"
"Why not?" Lyra replied calmly. "We're already nearby."
The excitement hit Kael instantly.
"We're both going?"
Lyra nodded once.
"A great portion of the undead army's strength comes from the Grief-Binding Array," she said. "But sustaining an army that size still requires source points. Pools. Reservoirs."
"The Source Pools," Kael breathed.
"If we can locate and destroy them," Lyra said, "we may cripple the Legion while the battle for Mirekeep is happening."
Kael practically bounced in place.
"That's brilliant. Gods, Shreve, you really are terrifyingly smart."
Lyra snorted.
"This way you can help without marching directly into Mirekeep."
Kael grinned fiercely.
"I know where to enter," he said immediately. "And I remember roughly where some of the blood pits were."
"Good," Lyra said. "Lead the way."
---
It took them less than half an hour to locate the hidden abyss again.
Dense brush concealed the opening almost completely. From above, it looked like nothing more than another stretch of tangled swamp growth.
But Kael knew what lurked beneath.
He stepped carefully toward the cliff's edge and pointed downward into the darkness.
"The Bone Warren is down there," he said quietly. "This is where I fell before."
The pit vanished into endless black.
Cold air drifted upward carrying the smell of wet stone, rot, and old blood.
"Deep," Kael added. "Very deep."
He peered over the edge.
Both cliff walls had been reinforced with smooth dark brick. No handholds. No ledges.
"We'll need to think of another way—"
Before he finished, Lyra casually grabbed the back of his belt.
Kael barely had time to yelp before she stepped straight off the cliff.
The world dropped away beneath them.
Wind exploded upward around Kael's body.
His guts lurched violently.
Then instinct took over.
He wrapped both arms around Lyra's narrow waist.
Soft.
Warm.
Dangerously soft.
Even through her robes he could feel the supple firmness of her body pressed against his chest. Her scent flooded his nose immediately—cold rain, orchids, and some deeper feminine heat that made his pulse start hammering again.
Kael held on tightly as they plunged through darkness.
Lyra's flying art slowed their descent in smooth pulses, each burst of Aether bleeding away momentum before the next.
Kael stared sideways at her profile in the darkness.
Beautiful.
Effortless.
Untouchable.
Someday, he thought fiercely, I'll reach this level too.
Several breaths later, they touched down lightly at the bottom.
Kael had barely opened his mouth when Lyra suddenly gave a muffled gasp.
Then she coughed.
Wet.
Sharp.
Kael froze.
"Shreve?"
Another cough.
He heard liquid splatter stone.
Blood.
Kael's heart slammed against his ribs.
He hurried toward her through the darkness and caught her shoulders.
"What happened?"
Lyra breathed unevenly.
"That damned lightning…" she muttered. "Something strange about it…"
Kael could feel weakness in her body now that he was holding her. Subtle trembling beneath her robes.
"That shield's lightning force is still inside you?"
"I thought I purged it," Lyra said through clenched teeth. "But when I circulated my Vitae during the descent… another strand surfaced from somewhere inside my Channels."
Her breathing roughened.
"It nearly erupted while we were falling."
Kael panicked immediately.
"What do we do? I can transfer some Vitae into you—"
"No."
Lyra steadied herself.
"I'll regulate my breathing again. Stand guard for me."
She slowly lowered herself into a seated position, crossing her legs atop the cold stone.
Kael nodded instantly.
"I've got you."
He stood nearby while Lyra closed her eyes.
Darkness swallowed the tunnel around them.
Only distant dripping water broke the silence.
Kael kept one hand near his sword while listening for movement.
Nothing.
No rattling armor.
No undead shrieks.
No scraping bone.
The Bone Legion truly had marched out in force.
After nearly half an incense stick's worth of time, Lyra finally exhaled.
"I think it's stable now."
Kael frowned.
"You think?"
Lyra opened her eyes slowly.
"That shield contains an extremely unusual form of lightning," she said. "Earlier I believed I'd already cleansed it completely. But the moment I circulated my Vitae again, another hidden strand escaped from somewhere inside me."
Kael remembered the divine shield hanging inside his Wardian Satchel.
Beautiful weapon.
Terrifying weapon.
He suddenly felt uneasy carrying the thing.
"But your Lesser Four-Sign Art includes lightning techniques," he said. "How could something still slip through your defenses?"
Lyra shook her head slightly.
"There are countless forms of lightning beneath heaven," she replied. "No one can master them all."
Her expression darkened.
"And the power inside that shield is unlike anything I've encountered before."
Kael subconsciously touched the Wardian Satchel at his waist.
"That hairy little bastard really carried something vicious," he muttered.
Lyra nodded once.
"My Master once warned me that the Thunder Courts of the Empyrean Throne are filled with monsters carrying bizarre divine weapons. Even weaker Thunder Generals can become deadly if their treasures are dangerous enough."
The creature they had slain had not been some random wandering beast.
It had once served one of the great Asura Kings of the higher realms—a monstrous treasury-slave that stole a pair of divine weapons before fleeing punishment. The shield carried invasive lightning capable of slipping into marrow and Channels alike. The chain carried paralyzing currents that locked flesh and bone.
Eventually the fugitive had fallen into the hands of the Empyrean Thunder Court and been inducted into its ranks as a replacement Thunder General.
And in the end, it had still died beneath Lyra Farrow's Violet Aurochs Pin.
Kael suddenly stiffened.
A fresh fear struck him.
"Wait."
Lyra glanced at him.
"You killed a Thunder General."
"Yes."
Kael stared at her.
"That thing belonged to the Empyrean Throne."
"Yes."
"Won't they come after you?"
Lyra looked almost amused.
"It's hardly the first god I've killed."
Kael choked.
"You say things like that way too casually."
He rubbed his forehead anxiously.
"The Thunder Courts govern lightning itself. Aren't they one of the hinges of creation?"
"Thunder Generals die constantly in lower-realm conflicts," Lyra said dismissively. "The Empyrean Throne can't investigate every single one."
She stood slowly.
"And the Covenant has aided the heavens often enough. I doubt they'll move openly against me over this."
Kael finally relaxed a little.
"A little" being the important part.
Anyone else casually talking about killing gods would sound insane.
With Lyra, it somehow sounded believable.
"You sure you're alright?" he asked again.
A faint discomfort still lingered in her expression, though she masked it quickly.
"I'm fine," she said. "Where are the Source Pools?"
Kael pointed deeper into the tunnels.
"This way."
---
The Bone Warren felt even worse the second time.
The tunnels breathed cold rot.
Moisture dripped from ceilings made of packed black stone and old bones fused together by foul rites. Pale green flames burned in iron brackets along distant walls.
Kael led carefully through the labyrinth from memory.
After several turns, they finally encountered resistance.
A patrol.
About a dozen skeletal guards marched through the tunnel carrying rusted halberds. Their eye sockets glowed crimson beneath dented armor.
No room to hide.
The corridor was too narrow.
The skeletons noticed them immediately.
Shrieking echoes burst through the tunnel.
Kael lunged first.
Behind him, Lyra formed a seal with elegant fingers.
A massive ring of fire erupted outward.
The flames roared through the corridor like a living beast.
Skeletons ignited instantly.
Several collapsed before they could even scream, blackened bones scattering across the floor.
Kael stared.
"What was that?"
Lyra flicked ash from her sleeve casually.
"A basic fire invocation."
Kael looked at the burning ruin around them.
"A basic—"
He stopped talking.
Monsters like her really did live in another world.
Lyra looked deeper into the tunnels.
"There are still defenders remaining," she said calmly. "If we continue charging in openly, we'll eventually attract too many."
Kael scratched his chin.
Then suddenly snapped his fingers.
"I've got an idea."
Lyra waited.
"Last time I was here, I stole a set of skeletal armor and disguised myself as one of them," Kael said proudly. "Worked surprisingly well."
Lyra nodded.
"That could work."
Kael immediately crouched beside one of the destroyed undead and began stripping armor pieces off the corpse.
The smell was awful.
Ancient rot mixed with grave dirt and stale blood.
Still, Kael forced himself into the armor piece by piece.
A few moments later he looked like a battered skeletal soldier himself.
Then he grabbed another set and offered it toward Lyra respectfully.
"Shreve, your armor."
Lyra looked at the filthy pile with open disgust.
"I am not wearing corpse armor."
Kael blinked.
"Then how are you supposed to disguise yourself?"
Lyra did not answer.
Instead she raised two pale fingers before her chest.
Aether stirred.
Kael immediately felt dizzy.
The air around Lyra blurred strangely. Her outline twisted like a reflection inside rippling water.
Kael instinctively blinked—
And the woman before him vanished.
In her place stood a skeletal soldier.
Perfectly formed.
Perfectly real.
The same cracked armor.
The same burning crimson eyes.
Kael staggered backward in shock.
The skeleton opened its mouth.
"It's me."
Lyra's voice came out from behind dead teeth.
Kael stared with his jaw hanging open.
"You transformed?"
"I created an illusion," the skeletal soldier replied.
Kael could not spot a single flaw.
Not one.
Even the aura felt correct.
His mind flashed instantly toward another woman.
Peria.
Illusions.
The Shape-Borrowing Art.
Lyra tilted her skull slightly.
"This is the technique I mentioned before," she said. "Once you master it, you can alter your appearance into anything you've seen."
Kael stood there speechless, staring at the impossible undead standing before him.