Flame-talismans flared blinding crimson along the heavy ash shaft of Elder Jarek’s poleaxe.
The Jade-Mortar elder spat a gob of dark phlegm onto the shattered tiles, his eyes burning with frantic greed.
Beside him, Master Drovak of Crimson-Pillar and Elder Kuro of Verdant-Flame locked their shields together.
“Twenty thousand spirit stones,” Jarek snarled, his voice cracking with manic fury. “The bounty on the charlatan’s head belongs to us.”
“Take his limbs first,” Morvane commanded from five paces back, his Heaven-Sunder Blade trembling as he tried to steady his own shaken core. “Leave his tongue for the Censorate.”
The three Golden Core Late masters surged forward in a tight wedge, their boots hammering the cedar decking in thunderous unison.
Three streams of condensed elemental fire billowed from their halberds, swirling into a howling cone of heat intended to melt the entire threshold.
Down in the main hall, hundreds of sect disciples scrambled away from the lower balcony, shielding their faces from the falling sparks.
