The palace drainage sluice churned with thick, oily purple foam.
A foul stench of burnt brimstone and rotten marrow rose from the canal. The corrosive acid of the Nine-Dragon Blood-Curse had already melted the stone embankments into soft, black sludge.
Grand Alchemist Xuan clung desperately to an iron drain grate.
His splendid cinnabar robes hung in scorched shreds around his sunken chest. The boiling poison had eaten through his protective leather boots, scorching his ankles down to raw meat. Every time a fresh wave of purple runoff splashed over his face, Xuan let out a wet, rattling scream.
“Mercy!” Xuan coughed, spitting a mouthful of black bile into the boiling froth. “Someone throw a rope! My core is melting!”
Two miles away from the main breach, the garden terrace remained pleasantly quiet.
An ancient willow tree shaded the canal bank. The autumn leaves drifted down through the cool breeze, landing softly on the green moss.
Kaelen sat on a low wooden stool at the edge of the stone embankment.
