Kaelen looked at the pale faces swirling inside the quartz conduit, his mouth pressing into a thin, flat line.
The subterranean air was foul with the scent of boiled copper and burnt tallow. Beneath the transparent crystal casing, the gray-gold soul-sediment churned like filthy river water, pulled down toward the distant moon core.
“A million mortals,” Claire repeated softly, her fingers tight around her rapier hilt. “Drained while they dream. Kept half-alive in deep vaults so their spiritual essence stays fresh.”
Sera leaned over the fissure, her eyes narrowing as she studied the crystal seams. “This entire moon is an industrial extraction plant. The herbs on the surface are just perfume to hide the slaughter.”
Stealing mortal souls to brew longevity pills is not just ruthless, Kaelen thought. It is an administrative disaster. The bookkeeping alone must take thirty clerks working double shifts.
He reached out and placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder, steering her gently away from the edge.
“We don’t smash the pipes yet,” Kaelen said calmly. “Shattering a pressurized conduit under an active celestial furnace will trigger every alarm between here and the Central Firmament.”
“We just let it flow?” Claire asked, her voice tight with suppressed anger.
