Above, the silver liquid coiled lazily into the air, rippling above Gold's head.
"You alive down there?" Kaedros called, his fireball throwing stark light across the scene.
"I'm great!" Gold called back, cheerful as if he'd just finished a sparring match.
No one argued when he started hauling corpses off the platform tossing them aside one by one.
The bodies were paper-skinned, yellow-boned, and draped in rags that disintegrated at a touch. Some wore plain brown tunics. Others had once been armored, black plates polished to a dark gleam in their time, with fine robes and weapons, Joint Accord, perhaps.
"Done," Gold announced.
The platform was a great slab of metal, its four corners anchored by thick poles. In the center stood an altar-like pedestal carved with unfamiliar markings.
"Stand back," Kaedros said. Drawing on the silver stone's power, he felt his muscles harden to icy steel. He leapt down, landing light on the metal.
