The green soul-fire had barely carved its path across the outer straits before the Censorate flagship veered south toward the jagged black spires of Void Lotus Prison Isle.
Before hunting a rogue alchemist in the northern reefs, the Grand Censorate demanded an accounting from the fortress holding the archipelago’s greatest prisoner.
The warship glided into the island’s cavernous sea-gate without sounding a single horn.
Heavy iron portcullises groaned upward, dripping black seawater into the foam.
Inquisitor Thorne-Crow swept down the gangplank, his black raven-feather robes trailing behind him like a shadow across the wet basalt.
Two dozen armored fortress guards stepped forward to demand his credentials, but their words caught in their throats.
The suffocating, icy pressure of a Saint Vessel Late aura radiated from Thorne-Crow’s bent frame, freezing the breath in their chests.
The guards parted in silence, lowering their halberds to the stone.
