The safehouse felt smaller than ever. The hum of the city's steam pipes outside was a constant reminder that time was running out. Alaric sat on a crate, staring at the cooling-iron limiter on his arm. The metal was starting to pit and corrode from the sheer pressure of his mana.
"A Seeker?" Evelyn asked, her brow furrowed as she carefully inspected the iron sword Alaric had used in the pits. "They are the scavengers of the Inquisition. If one of them has found you, it means our scent is stronger than I thought."
"He doesn't want me dead," Alaric said, his voice a low vibration. "He wants the Star-Steel. Or rather, the scraps left behind when we forge it."
"Star-Steel is a soul-conductor, Alaric," Evelyn explained, looking him in the eyes. "When it's forged, it bleeds out the impurities of the mana it touches. If you use it to stabilize your heart, the 'residue' will be pure dragon-mana. That Seeker could sell a single drop of that for enough gold to buy a duchy."
"Then we use him," Alaric decided. "If he can keep Gareth's eyes focused on the Upper District, it buys us the three days we need for the finals."
"And if he betrays us?"
Alaric stood up, his towering frame casting a long, monstrous shadow against the damp stone walls. "Then he'll find out that dragon-mana is just as lethal when it's outside my body as it is inside."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. It was Varkas's coded rhythm. When the door opened, the old alchemist slipped in, looking pale.
"The brackets for the quarter-finals are up," Varkas wheezed, handing a crumpled parchment to Alaric. "You're up against The Hollow Knight. No one knows where he came from, but he's been killing his opponents with a single strike. No blood, no screams. Just... silence."
Alaric looked at the name. He felt a cold shiver that didn't come from his dragon-core. There was a dark irony in the title.
"I'll be ready," Alaric said.
"You'll need more than a blunt iron slab for this one," Varkas added, reaching into his coat and pulling out a small vial of silver liquid. "Coat your blade in this. It won't trigger the mana-sensors, but it'll allow your physical strength to bypass magical wards. You're going to need it."
Alaric took the vial. The weight of his destiny was becoming heavier with every bab. He was no longer just fighting for a new heart; he was fighting to keep his soul from being consumed by the very people who claimed to protect it.