The moon hung unnaturally low that night, swollen and tinged with a crimson sheen that cast the world beneath it in the color of dried blood. Every tree in the blasted field seemed to lean away from it, as though recoiling from its gaze.
Mary stood still, the Codex clutched to her chest, the wind tangling her black hair around her face. Across the plain, the cloaked figures moved with synchronized steps. Not a word. Not a sound. Only the rustle of fabric and the rhythmic scrape of feet against dirt.
Loosie dropped beside her, breathing hard. "Forty-seven. Maybe more. All moving toward us. Not fast, but with purpose."
"They're not just some cult," Lela added, sword drawn, eyes narrowed. "They're linked. I've seen this before, in the old warzones—the way drones or hive-thralls move. Shared mind. One command."
Mary whispered, "They're already tethered to him."
The Codex pulsed in agreement.
They are not bound by choice. They are echoes. Flesh still walking, minds overwritten.
Mary didn't flinch. She was past the point of questioning the Codex's voice. It was part of her now—like a second heartbeat, or a parasite made of memory and fire.
Loosie tightened her grip on her knives. "You want me to hit first?"
"No," Mary said. "They're not going to stop because we throw steel at them. We have to sever the signal. The source."
"You mean the Herald?" Lela asked.
Mary shook her head. "No. Something deeper. The thing that's anchoring them—holding their minds hostage."
"And you know where it is?" Loosie said.
"Yes," Mary said. "Inside me."
They froze.
Lela took a step back. "You're saying you're the anchor now?"
"I didn't mean to be." Mary's voice cracked. "But when the Codex merged, when I accepted it, I didn't just bind myself to it. I became a conduit. Like a... standing mirror between here and him. And they're looking at me like they see him."
"So what do we do?" Lela asked.
"We hold," Mary said. "We give them a reason to hesitate. If I can use the Codex again—safely—I might be able to send a signal back. Push his influence out."
Loosie raised an eyebrow. "You think he's just gonna back off if you tell him to?"
"No," Mary said. "But if I speak in the Codex's voice... he might not know it's me."
The cloaked figures stopped fifty feet from their camp.
Their leader stepped forward.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hood falling away to reveal a face etched in ritual scars. His eyes glowed—faintly blue, like frost over a lake.
He spoke in an old tongue, but Mary understood.
"You carry what should not be whole."
Mary stepped forward. "It was broken because you feared what it could do. Not because it was wrong."
The figure tilted his head. "We broke it because he asked us to. We are his first hands. His last breath."
"You're puppets," Mary said, louder now. "Nothing more."
All at once, the cloaked figures raised their hands.
A hum filled the air—low, vibrating. The trees shook. The earth rippled beneath their feet like a sheet in the wind.
Mary felt the Codex responding. Words rose unbidden to her lips—ancient syllables that tasted of rust and lightning. She didn't fight them.
"I name thee unwoven," she cried. "Break the tether. Burn the link. By the First Flame, I sever the false will!"
A shockwave burst from the Codex. Not sound—but intention. A ripple of raw willpower that smashed into the cloaked figures like a tidal wave of firelight.
Some collapsed instantly, screaming.
Others staggered back, clawing at their robes, their faces contorting in agony.
And the leader—he fell to his knees, gasping. For one moment, his eyes turned normal. Human.
"Mercy," he whispered.
Then his body turned to ash.
Mary fell forward, catching herself on her hands.
The Codex had drained her.
Loosie was by her side in an instant, dragging her back. "That was... horrifying. And awesome. But mostly horrifying."
Lela scanned the field. "They're retreating. Some are still twitching. But whatever you did, it broke their cohesion."
Mary took a breath. "It's not over."
She looked at her arms—veins glowing faintly beneath her skin.
"Every time I use it... I lose something. I can feel him creeping further in."
Lela crouched beside her. "Then we need to find a way to lock it. Bury the Codex again, maybe split it—"
"No," Mary said quickly. "We can't. If I split it now, he'll slip through the cracks. He's learning how I think. I have to stay ahead of him."
"So what's next?" Loosie asked.
Mary looked to the horizon.
"There's one place left. The tomb of the Blind Queen. She was the only one who rejected his voice and lived. Her writings might have the key to sealing him again—or trapping him in me long enough to drag him into oblivion."
"Sounds cheery," Loosie muttered.
Lela nodded. "Then let's move before night finishes turning."
Mary stood slowly.
She looked up at the moon—now directly overhead, glaring down like an accusing eye.
"He's watching," she murmured. "And he knows I'm coming."