Basement, Outpost Interior
Thae's sigils glimmered faintly on the Choir agent's skin, the suppression seal holding—for now. But something else was stirring. The red glow from the sigil tower wasn't fading; it was shifting, turning more erratic—like a heartbeat skipping time. She put up sigils to her eyes and started to breakdown the tower's magical make up, taking note of everything she gleaned.
And then came the noise.
Boots. Footsteps. Too many.
Thae's head snapped toward the stairs as two figures descended: one tall, with layered rings and a strange green glow in her palms—a witch. The other, broader, eyes dark and sharp, sigils tattooed up both arms—a warlock.
The witch was first to speak. "You're not authorized."
Thae didn't answer. Her focus split instantly between them and the tower.
The warlock raised his hand. "Step away, little scribe."
Thae smiled grimly. "Wrong title."
Before he could ask, she struck—sigils flying from her fingertips in a fan of dazzling runes. The witch blocked with a warding circle, but her stance stumbled. The warlock retaliated, casting a concussive bolt that slammed into the floor beside Thae, sending her sprawling against the stone.
She winced—damp blood blooming at her side.
The Red Choir woman still writhed behind her, twitching within the glowing bindings. And now, more steps echoed down the stairwell. More coming. No time.
Thae scrambled to her feet. Her lips moved quickly as her fingers drew a fast circle—short-form teleportation sigil, burnt into the air with a quick flick of her blood.
The moment it shimmered, she vanished in a burst of pale smoke—and reappeared halfway up the stairwell, coughing, injured, but still on her feet.
"Shit," muttered the witch. "She jumped!"
"After her!" the warlock growled.
Thae didn't wait. She sprinted for the exit, breath shallow, blood dampening her side. She could hear them gaining. The warlock was fast. The witch faster.
Thae's heels as she tore through the corridor above the basement, her sigil still faintly burning on the soles of her boots. Behind her, pounding footsteps echoed like war drums. The witch's laughter trailed in her wake, unhinged and rising, as flickers of green flame surged toward the narrow stairwell.
Thae vaulted the last steps and reached for another glyph on her belt—only for the hallway to shudder as the warlock hurled a burst of raw kinetic magic up the tunnel. It struck a column, stone splintering, rubble tumbling, cutting off the exit.
She skidded to a halt. Turned.
Three of them now.
The warlock—tall, broad and gaunt, and inked with oily black sigils that moved as if alive—spread his arms, blood leaking from his palms into swirling runes midair.
The witch—sharp, snake-eyed, and grinning—slid a slender blade from her sleeve and whispered to it in a language Thae didn't recognize. The metal hissed, slick with enchantment.
And the third—Anya. No longer warm and smiling. Her eyes glowed with crimson light, hair rising with static energy, lips curled into a sneer.
"You shouldn't have come down there," Anya said.
Thae clenched her fists. "You shouldn't have let me walk out."
The witch lunged first, daggers gleaming. Thae caught the first strike with a mirrored ward and twisted, redirecting it into the wall. Her palm ignited with runes, blasting the witch backward with a sharp arcane pulse—just in time to dodge the warlock's telekinetic grasp.
But Anya moved like smoke and memory. She was already at Thae's side, chanting in a voice layered with something… other. A harmonic undertone. A siren's edge.
Thae's mind fogged—just slightly.
But she gritted her teeth and sigil-flared, releasing a shockwave from her chest that threw them all back a half-step.
"I don't fall easy," she growled, drawing a long curved sigil through the air. "Try me."
A glyph circle expanded around her feet, glowing brighter as she whispered its purpose. Each movement, each flick of her wrist, was surgical—measured. A barrage of binding symbols shot forward, ensnaring the witch's arms mid-cast and pinning the warlock's leg for a split-second. Just long enough.
She dashed again. Reaching for the exit.
They were faster than expected.
The warlock shattered her binding sigil with brute force and hurled a net of obsidian threads toward her—threads meant to slice, not capture.
She ducked. Rolled.
The witch was already beside her, blade dragging the wall with a screech.
Anya's voice rose again behind them—this time stronger, darker, edged with Choir resonance.
You cannot outrun the blood.
And then—
Boom.
The doors behind Thae exploded inward with a sound like judgment. Blood-red wind howled through the shattered archway, flaring cloaks and snapping torches. Standing in the center of the maelstrom—
Veylen.
Eyes aglow, glyphs burning in the air around him.
Zhada skidded to a stop beside him, grinning like she'd been waiting all day for this.
"Hope we're not late," she said, already rolling her neck and letting fire crackle along her arms.
Thae barely had time to catch her breath before Veylen raised a hand—and the whole hallway trembled, as a few more operatives rushed into the area.
The witch's eyes widened. "The Bloodkeeper…"
The warlock took a step back. "He shouldn't be here—"
They never finished.
Veylen didn't answer. He simply lifted his hand—and the blood still dripping from Thae's earlier wound rose from the stone, a string of red pearls in the air. It spun between his fingers like a thread on a loom.
With a whisper, the blood glowed black-red.
And then it moved.
The droplets surged into skeletal shapes—bone-wrought forms conjured in the blink of an eye. Two crimson wraiths burst from the floor, half-corporeal, swiping jagged claws of rib-bone and vapor.
The warlock summoned a dome of green-metal sigils. Earth magic. Solid. Structured. Meant to repel the dead.
Veylen snapped his fingers. The wraiths shattered mid-air—and reformed behind the dome.
"How—!" the warlock turned too late. One wraith seized his arm, draining the strength from his muscles until his legs buckled.
The witch screamed and hurled a bloodthorn—a hex forged from the Choir's own magic—at Veylen's chest.
He caught it mid-air with his bare hand.
It sizzled against his palm… and melted into ink.
"You've been playing with borrowed spells," he said calmly.
Then he threw it back—corrupted and reversed. It struck her like a spear of silence, nulling her chant, her powers faltering.
She fell to her knees, coughing, the room spinning.
Zhada came behind her and landed a sharp kick to the temple. "Night-night."
The floor beneath them bled upward in ropes of animated veins, the walls whispering in forgotten tongues. Veylen's sigils flashed once—twice—and the air rippled. His necromancy flooded the space with pressure, making it feel as though the building itself held its breath.
One gesture. That's all it took.
Bones slithered from the earth beneath, grasping ankles, twisting wrists, dragging warlock to his knees, then onto his back, as others held the witch in place beside him. Anya broke into a sprint from her hiding place, towards the door.
Zhada surged forward like a bullet, launching herself into Anya, tackling her hard against a wall and pinning her.
Thae staggered up, panting, blood running from a small cut on her cheek, and holding her side.
Veylen looked to her, dark eyes scanning her injuries.
"You alright?" he asked.
"I am now…" she breathed.
He placed a bleeding palm to her side, and began to mend her wound.
"You betrayed the boss?" Zhada shouted, "Why?" she pressed her forearm against Anya's neck.
"She can't talk, if she can't breathe…" Veylen said casually over his shoulder.
Zhada let up only a little and she drew in muffled gasps. "Now answer me! Before I apply pressure…" she growled dangerously.
"I...." Anya began, "I-"
"We'll get to the bottom of this one way or another..." Veylen said staring through her soul.
Anya began teembling and convulsing, before going unconcious.
"Figured," Veylen murmured.
Suddenly Thae began to shake and convulse, falling to her knees, as a mark burned bright on her skin.
They raced toward her.
"We have to get her back to the mortuary," Veylen ordered, "NOW!"
"How??" Zhada shouted, holding Thaelyn's trembling head.
"I'll connect to a blood portal i have placed there from here," he said biting his thumb.