Roderick and the five most powerful magic wielders took the vials. The antidote coursed through their bodies, shielding them from the poisonous mist that choked the palace halls.
For Roderick, swallowing the cure was a bitter act. He felt undeserving—there were others, more selfless, who had exerted themselves endlessly to create the antidote, and he had done far less.
But the mages insisted. They needed him. Roderick knew the palace better than anyone alive. More importantly, the emperor still trusted him.
If they were to stop the emperor and the demon he had collaborated with, they needed someone on the inside—someone who could open the right doors, guide them through the shadows, and get them close.
Even with all their arcane might, the magic wielders couldn't defeat the emperor in a direct confrontation. Not alone, not together. Not if he was ready for them. In a fair fight, they would lose.
But with Roderick, it wouldn't be a fair fight.
