The King of Ash and a broken seedling,
" the Sentinel greeted, his voice like silk sliding over glass. The Border is closed. The Sanguine Council has sensed a rot in the wind, and we do not admit those who carry the scent of the Void."
Theroren stepped forward, the heat radiating from him causing the mist to hiss and vanish.
"I do not seek entry for politics, Sentinel.
I seek the Glow-Worm Caverns.
The Nixorath is no longer a ghost story; it is a harvest. If you do not let us pass, your lineage will be the next to turn to hollow stone.
The Sentinel's eyes flickered to Andrea.
"A Stiltwort. My records say your kind was extinguished for the murder of the Crimson Royals. Why does the son walk with his parents' killer?"
"Because the history was a lie," Andrea said, her voice echoing in the damp air.
"The Nixorath used us both. If you want proof, look at the sky."
She pointed upward. Though the canopy was thick, the Seven Pillars of black light were visible even here jagged tears in the atmosphere that bled darkness into the world.
One of those pillars was rooted deep in the Sanguine heartland.
The Sentinel hesitated, his predatory gaze wavering.
He reached into his robes and pulled out a small, empty crystal vial.
"The Sanguine do not take gold in times of plague," he said.
"We take essence. To pass, the King must provide a drop of the Burning Heart's fire, and the Witch must provide a drop of her restored magic."
Theroren's expression darkened. "You ask for the very thing the Nixorath seeks to consume."
"I ask for the only currency that proves you are still living, and not already hollow shells," the Sentinel countered.