As soon as Sentinel said that Andrea looked at Theroren.
Her magic was returning, but it was raw and unpredictable.
She stepped toward the Sentinel, her fingers tracing a small, glowing green rune in the air.
As she pricked her finger and allowed a single, emerald drop to fall into the vial, the crystal flared with a sudden, vibrant light.
Theroren followed, pressing a gloved hand against the vial.
For a split second, the glass turned white-hot as a spark of his internal sun transferred over.
The Sentinel bowed low, the bridge of bone creaking as it began to lower.
"Pass, then. But be warned,
the Sanguine Lord, Malphas, has already retreated to the lower depths.
He believes the darkness can be bartered with. He is waiting for you in the Hall of Transfusion."
As they crossed into the Sanguine territory, the ground beneath them began to pulse.
It wasn't the tectonic groan of the Obsidian Citadel, but a wet, rhythmic thrumming.
"The earth here is alive," Andrea whispered, her mage-sight flickering.
"It's being used as a pump. The Nixorath is using the Sanguine's own blood-magic to accelerate the spread of the infection."
Theroren looked toward the distant, glowing vents of the caverns
"Then we don't have much time. If Malphas thinks he can negotiate with the Void, he's already lost."
He gripped Andrea's shoulder, a rare gesture of grounding.
"Stay close. In this land, the blood remembers every secret you try to hide."
They disappeared into the purple depths of the Weald, heading toward the heart of the second lineage,
unaware that the Grand Witch Duskevil's "shadow" was already waiting for them in the blood-soaked dark.