"Father Isaiah was clear about one thing," Oathran said, his voice steady now. "The spell... or the Key... had always required a sacrifice."
There was no running away from the sacrifice.
Cecilia nodded.
The other rifts' Keys, the normal ones, if any part of this could be called normal, didn't need to be passed down through future generations. They were one-time transactions. A life for a door, a soul for a seal.
In Ierofey's original world, the Key to the other ordinary rifts only needed to be embedded into the sacrifice once the rifts were ready to be closed. And the volunteer would certainly die.
The order for the normal Key went like this.
First, clear up all the monsters and find the rift core, but don't destroy it. Then, infect the rift core with the spell, which worked like a virus to the core's circuits, draining its energy to power the spell, rewriting its purpose, turning it into a mechanism of containment.
