"Why are you all looking at me?" Cal asked, perplexed. "I already gave it my best shot."

  It hadn't been long after entering that they had stumbled on a second guard. This one had been far less prepared than the first, and he'd barely had a chance to raise his weapon before he found himself knocked down and pinned to the floor.

  "All you did was threaten to kill him," Lily stated in an exasperated voice. She brought a hand up and brushed her blonde hair to the side. "And you have so many weird talents. I figured interrogation would be one of them."

  Well, it wasn't. His job was to kill cultists, not ask them questions. There usually wasn't even a need for it, as by the time he was sent in, they already had a good idea of what was going on. If they really did need prisoners, then he wouldn't be the one chosen for the mission.

  "Allow me then," Benny said, kneeling next to the prisoner.

  The guard had been restrained by the remaining half of Cal's spear, which was embedded in his leg, along with needles that pinned his clothes in place. The bulging vein on his forehead made it clear the ordeal was far from comfortable, yet he hadn't uttered a single word of complaint—or a word at all.

  Which was part of the problem.

  Benjamin retrieved several vials from his pocket, carefully sorting them. He produced a dropper next and began siphoning some liquid from one container and mixing it in another.

  "What are you doing?" Cal asked, becoming slightly uncomfortable at the boy's actions. He almost would have preferred it if he had started pulling fingernails.

  "As His Highness's aide, I must be well versed in many areas." He held a tube up, lightly swirling it. "This includes knowledge of painkillers and how they can be used to make people suggestible."

  Cal had a deep understanding of how important knowing that was. That was how they'd gotten him the first time. Not that it did them any good in the end, as he'd repaid them by turning the facility into a molten crater.

  He focused on his surroundings, leaving the boy to his mixing.

  Unlike the black exterior, the walls inside were pale green. The columns were carved in the shape of men and women holding torches. Their colors were faded, but he could still see their serene faces as they held up the roof. The torches were lit, but instead of fire, they emitted the same light from outside. They flickered in unison, and Cal took in the fresco above. It was of a lightly tanned, brown-haired woman. Her features were queer, seeming to shift every time the torches blinked.

  Cal flushed his system again, chasing away any intrusion. There was something wrong with that painting, and with his current mood, he wanted to blast it.

  In lieu of defacing a priceless piece of history, Cal released a breath and studied the room further. It was a semicircle with three doors on the curved wall opposite to him. The largest was the one in the center, appearing at triple his height. It was also decorated, and the style reminded him slightly of the doors he'd seen outside of Lord Ardere's office. The one to the right was only double his size and ajar. That was the one the prisoner had entered from.

  He kicked his foot on the ground, trying to make sense of the magic circle drawn under them. It was inlaid with gold, but it wasn't complete, with certain sections looking to have been excavated. His magic had already seeped through it and found it unresponsive.

  "The mother watches us," Rolland intoned. It was said in a way that made Cal suspect it was a prayer of some sort.

  He gave another glance at the woman above and scoffed.

  "Sounds like you're wishing it was you that was born second," Cal said wryly.

  Had he been, then he would have been groomed to take control of the Holy Enclave. It was the consolation prize for being born second and had been since the Empire's conquest of the territory. The only stipulation was that they remain unwed.

  Naturally, the Empire's books painted a rosy picture of there never being an issue, while the Federation ones talked about uprisings every other generation. Cal reckoned it was somewhere in the middle but leaned toward the Empire's side solely because they kept the practice alive.

  "I'd prefer not to. The northern lords give me enough ails. I would not want to rule a province full of them." Rolland responded, his eyes still upward. "My brother's reaction here would be… extreme," he said without indicating if his words should be taken positively. "We stand on hallowed ground. Impossible ones even. Our records say the capital should have been at least three days of a hard journey. I realize the landscape would have shifted, but I feel we're still too far."

  Three days was about how long it took him to get to the cabin. Maybe next time he crashed there, he'd start digging holes.

  "Don't forget what's in your pocket," Lily said, her eyes traveling from the portrait to Rolland. "It must be the same concept, except instead of a handful of people, it moved part of a city."

  Cal had no idea what level of magic something like that would require, but he guessed it wasn't a small amount. The question on his mind—and, he imagined, everyone else's—was if Urel fell first, who preserved her district?

  There was a clinking as Benny tapped on a syringe. The prisoner seemed to realize his stalling hadn't helped, but before he could give any resistance, the needle was stabbed into his vein.

  "He will be amenable now," Benny stated, taking a step back.

  Rolland approached the man, grabbed his chin, and forced it up. Glassy eyes stared back at him, and the man seemed to sway.

  "Where is The Tremor being held?" he asked, wasting little time.

  Cal noted how he'd not thought to question whether Ferguson was alive or not.

  "Lower level," the man said in a vacant voice. "With the rest of the beasts."

  The location lined up with what Basem had told them, but the news of even more beasts underground was new.

  "How do we get to him?" Rolland followed up quickly, the words meshing together during his delivery.

  The man's shaky hand raised, and he pointed toward the door he'd come from.

  "Two rooms down, take a right, and you'll find a staircase. Cell number twenty-five."

  That looked to be enough for the prince, who was about to bolt if not for Cal's firm hand on his shoulder. Rolland gave him an aggrieved look, and Cal gestured for him to wait.

  "How many are you?" Cal took over the questioning.

  These weren't things he normally worried about, but current company necessitated him taking more precautions than usual.

  The man's eyes wandered aimlessly for a moment before he replied in the same monotone voice.

  "A hundred before, thirteen now. He killed them, tore through them like they were paper. He was going to kill us all, but Craven stopped him." His eyes widened, and he tried to grasp at Cal's collar when Benny came up behind him and grabbed both of his wrists, forcing them back. "Cr-craven, he's gone mad. He sacrificed half our number to summon the demon, and now he's going to open the sanctum!"

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Why was it that cultists were always surprised when their leaders betrayed them? Ancestors, Cal would be worried about the cultist that didn't turn on their followers. That one would be the real nut job.

  "Craven?" Lily asked with a lack of recognition in her voice. "Ring any bells?"

  The group gave a collective shrug, and Cal moved on.

  "What are a bunch of cultists doing here?" Cal asked the big question, earning a look of confusion from the man.

  "Mercenary," he said dumbly while pointing at himself. "It wasn't supposed to go like this. We were just supposed to—"

  The man didn't finish, slumping to his side lifelessly.

  Cal used his boot to flip the man on his back, seeing his empty eyes.

  "Overdose?" Lily speculated, earning a furrow of Benny's brow.

  Benjamin knelt by the body, placing two fingers on it.

  "No, an overdose would see foaming at the mouth. The timing and instantaneous nature of it point toward something else."

  Cal needed no further explanation. The man had been fine until he'd tried to divulge the details of his contract. That reeked of a covenant.

  "We have what we need," Rolland urged, moving for the door again.

  Benjamin followed after him, and Cal was about to as well when Lily's words stopped him cold.

  "Two for two in killing prisoners," Lily said, standing over the body with crossed arms. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure you're not a snake?"

  He wasn't proud of the way he froze, but he recovered as quickly as he could, rolling his eyes dismissively.

  "First, we were going to kill him anyway. Second, it wasn't even my fault. And third, if I was a snake—what in the hells would I be doing here?"

  She had no response to that.

  Saying they raced down the corridor was an understatement. Any reverence the Empire scions had was tossed aside as their strides ate up the ground. They paid little attention to the interior of this place, which was far better preserved than the outside. Cal wondered how long that would last as the tower shook.

  "They're going at it," Cal idly commented. If the tower wasn't tilted before, it certainly felt like they were running on a slant now. "And you guys give me shit."

  Lily's eyes shot toward the direction the fighting should be taking place.

  "I can't feel anything since coming inside," she said without slowing. "Do you know who's winning?"

  Cal gave it another attempt but found the same results as last time.

  "Something's blocking my senses. It might be the wards."

  It was that or some leftover god bullshit. Millie had shown that not all of their methods were unobtainable by humankind, yet much of what they accomplished was still shrouded in mystery.

  Their steps brought them to a winding stone staircase. It was different from the polished marble of the rest of the building, appearing to be another late addition.

  The group descended the few dozen steps in silence, with no words exchanged. The chamber they entered was damp despite the high ceiling, and there were chains attached to the rough stone walls. Splattered out on the floor were the remains of two 'mercenaries.' They'd been ripped apart, and he couldn't tell where one ended and the other started.

  "I was with you the whole time," Cal stated, coming to a stop. "There's no way you're pinning these on me."

  Rolland ignored his comment and went for the hallway leading to the cells. Benjamin cautiously followed after him but hesitated after seeing Cal remained in place.

  "Something's off," Lily added, her eyes scanning the ceiling. She stopped at a corner. "There."

  Her hand lit up, but instead of sparks, a dull grey covered it. She swept the palm down, and the ground beneath that piece of ceiling fractured as a mass was pulled harshly down.

  A four-legged beast phased into view. Its head was of the feline variety, and its skin had a slimy sheen that seemed ready to meld into the background. There was a collar around its neck with deep claw marks.

  Cal watched its legs bend as yellow eyes darted from each one of them. They settled on Rolland and it sprung forward. Benjamin stood ready in front of the prince, bringing his knives up to block the attack. The attack that never came, as the beast soared over Cal's head.

  It caught him off guard, but Cal leaped up, and his fingers managed to wrap around the tail. He yanked it and was in the process of slamming it down when the appendage slipped through his fingers. The momentum carried the beast back to where it came, and it landed on its feet, eyeing them carefully.

  "Was it trying to run?" Lily asked with disbelief. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Whatever, let the runt go."

  It was small for a beast, not even reaching two meters in length. Its magical signature was also faint, resembling that of the Empire's tamed beasts. Had it been a normal animal, its running wouldn't alarm him. However, magic beasts seldom understood the importance of self-preservation. Seldom did not mean never, and there was one notable exception.

  "No," Cal said, guarding the only exit he knew of. "Kill it."

  The feline's lips pulled back, and it howled. Cal abandoned his position and flung himself toward it. He tackled it, cutting off its call. They rammed into one of the walls, and he went to punch it when a large pincer suddenly burst through. It snapped in his direction, and he brought both arms up to prevent himself from being bisected.

  Cal's shell resisted the attack, and he pushed his arms upward, forcing the claw to snap shut above him. His fingers gripped the new beast's carapace, holding it in place while Benny dove on it with knives extended. They sliced into one of the many exposed eyes, and the crustacean-like beast shrieked. Cal released his hold and kicked the entire thing back into its destroyed cell. Benny went after it, with Rolland finally acting and backing up his friend up.

  He left them to it and was very much relieved to see that Lily had heeded his words by blocking the initial beast from escaping. She was forcing it into a corner, and it tried to leap away when her hands glowed grey. It appeared as if an invisible leash was pulled, and it flew into her awaiting claws. She gouged its side, and Cal was on it next.

  He jumped onto it, wrapping his legs around its neck. His hands gripped either side of its head, and those yellow eyes popped out of its skull as he crushed it. It hadn't even required his full strength. Physically, it posed little threat to any of them, and yet it was the most dangerous beast they'd encountered.

  A bright light invaded the chamber, and he felt Rolland's magic spike before dimming all together. The prince and his aide stumbled out of the cell a moment later, their attention scattered on account of the overwhelming noise taking over the dungeon. It was a symphony of clangs, scrapes, and roars as each and every beast contained down here tried desperately to escape.

  "What was that?" Lily asked, stepping close while keeping her sight toward the other cells. "They're going nuts."

  Cal was a believer in coincidences. Things happened, and there wasn't always a grand reason behind them. He did not believe this beast's presence to be a coincidence.

  "Don't know," he lied while widening the gash Lily had made. His hand fished around and produced an inky black orb. "But I want my core."

  He hoped she would buy into the excuse because he didn't want to explain how that dead beast was one of the ones responsible for forming Beast Waves.

  "The cells might not hold," Benny expressed, glancing at the one destroyed one.

  There had been no attempt to conserve magic against one, and given their current circumstances, Cal thought it was a wise move.

  Cal didn't get a chance to respond before Rolland flew down the hallway. He wanted to chide his recklessness, but he'd do the same in his place.

  They chased after him, passing cell after cell containing beasts. They threw themselves at their prison with reckless abandon, even when it caused them injury. Cal checked each one, making sure there were no others like the feline one.

  Rolland stopped at one of the cells, peering through the bars for a second before placing his palm on them. The ward was dismantled in a hurry, and the door was ripped from its hinges.

  Sat squarely in the center was a figure wrapped in inscribed chains. Only his head was visible, revealing bloodied sockets where his eyes should be. There was naked fury on his face, and he made to rise. Chains creaked against the strain of holding him down.

  "Ferg," Rolland breathed out, a cocktail of emotions present that Cal couldn't begin to make sense of.

  The hard lines of Ferguson's face softened before returning, more pronounced than before.

  "Boy!" his hoarse voice yelled. "I must have hit you too many times in the head. What in the hells are you doing here?"

  Rolland almost tripped on his way to the chained Finger. A rueful smile came over his face, and his hands grasped the chains.

  "Must I answer?"

  Cal and the others stayed at the doorway. He wasn't sure of his companion's motives, but this felt oddly personal, and he didn't want to intrude.

  "No," Ferguson gruffed. "But only if ya promise not to tell my brat about this."

  The smile on Rolland's face was of a different quality than the ones he normally wore.

  "Nor my father, I presume."

  Ferguson gave a short laugh that ended in a hacking cough.

  "He ain't the one I'm scared of."

  Rolland kept working on the wards when his eyes traveled to where Ferguson's should be.

  "Your eyes…"

  The chains rattled as Ferguson shifted.

  "Aye, took my fighting arm too," Ferguson said, as Cal felt the magic in the chains begin to weaken. Rolland pulled on two ends, breaking one set before having to step back as Ferguson made to stand. The chains snapped, shattering in places as Ferguson's magic surged, bathing the room in its might. The walls they had been attached to caved in, and the two beasts held within rushed to face them. Both were squashed like bugs as their cells collapsed on top of them. "I have to show them why they shouldn't have stopped there."

  A blind, one-armed man stood. His skin was shredded in places, open wounds festering. He took a single step forward, and the tower trembled, announcing to all within…

  The Tremor was back.

  Now all Cal had to do was find a way to ditch him with the kids.