The throne hall pulsed softly like the chest of a giant who had just finished running. An illusory map of the High Cathedral hovered in the air—a cube of light that mapped the bell tower, the seal grid, and the choir passages in the building's bowels. My forces assembled: Selena, Nana, Malrik, Nysha, Clarissa, and the technical core—Simon and Algor. Zereth was transported to the Lower East infirmary, bound by soul splints and shadow guards.
A side door opened. Algor entered carrying an obsidian tray. On it were three vials—jet-black crystals filled with a bluish-silver liquid that swirled on its own, reflecting light like a moon crushed to liquid.
Algor knelt. "As commanded, My Lord. Elixir of Celes—a distillation of the hero's core. Three vials. Each vial increases soul output and grants temporary holy resistance."
I stared at the vials. "Composition?"
