THEY THREW ME INTO THE ABYSS, SO I DEVOURED EVERYTHING

THE SHADOW ON THE SPIRE

Felix landed on the sloped slate roof of a noble manor, his boots skidding across the rain-slicked tiles before he caught his balance. Forty feet below, the wide marble streets of the upper district were completely deserted, save for patrols of heavy cavalry sweeping past empty fountains.

With every leap across the rooftops, the stolen gold magic from Julian pulsed in Felix's bloodstream, binding with the void energy. The black scales on his arm shifted, expanding across his right shoulder and locking around his ribs in flexible, interlocking plates.

"The magic feels different now," Felix muttered, crouching near a stone gargoyle as rain lashed his hood. "It does not just burn. It flows."

"You filled the hollow vessel with noble blood," the Void Sovereign rasped, its voice resonating inside his jaw. "The scales are shifting from raw hide to true void-steel. The arch-mages will not cut through us so easily now."

Felix looked up. At the end of the high avenue sat the royal palace, its massive white marble spires piercing the dark, stormy clouds. Surrounding the perimeter was a shimmering dome of bright golden light, anchored by four heavy stone obelisks set into the grand plaza.

Standing behind the central obelisk was the High Priest, his heavy gold-threaded robes soaked with rain and flapping wildly in the wind. Beside him stood six royal arch-mages clad in dark blue velvet, their glowing wooden staves raised high as they channeled power directly into the barrier.

Felix dropped from the roof, landing on the broad cobblestones of the grand plaza with a low, heavy thud.

"Stop right there!" a guard captain shouted from behind a row of spiked iron barricades. Over a hundred heavily armored city watchmen stood behind the barrier, their cross-bows leveled at Felix.

Felix ignored the captain, stepping steadily across the wet marble flags until he stood twenty paces from the golden dome. He pulled his hood back, letting the rain wash over his face, his purple eyes glowing faintly in the golden glare of the ward.

"You look nervous, Your Grace," Felix said, his voice carrying clearly over the roar of the wind. "Where are your divine blessings tonight?"

The High Priest stepped closer to the edge of the barrier, his hands trembling as he clutched his gold staff. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with manic fear.

"Blasphemer!" the High Priest shrieked, his voice cracking. "You brought a curse into the city! The Pact Orb destroyed, the Vane vault burned, Lady Sarah humiliated. You are a defect that should have been burned at birth!"

"You called me coreless," Felix said, flexing his scaled right hand. The dark void-steel plates clicked tightly against one another. "You called my blood filth. Yet here you sit, hiding behind four stone pillars because a nameless rat walked up your hill."

"Mages, strike him down!" the High Priest roared, pointing his trembling staff toward Felix. "Burn him to ash! Leave no trace of his cursed skin!"

The six arch-mages chanted in unison, their blue staves flaring with blinding white light. Above the plaza, the storm clouds parted as a massive spear of holy lightning, thick as an oak tree, plunged straight down from the sky toward Felix's head.

Felix did not dodge. He planted his boots into the wet stone and thrust both hands upward.

Break them, the entity commanded inside his mind.

Six thick, shadowy tendrils exploded outward from Felix’s chest and back, rising like dark spires into the night sky. The tendrils intercepted the falling lightning midair, wrapping around the blinding shaft of white heat. Instead of exploding, the lightning turned sickly purple, its blinding crackle swallowed whole as Felix drew the raw elemental energy straight down into his scales.

The ground beneath Felix’s feet cracked, but he did not yield an inch.

"He... he is eating the divine strike!" one of the arch-mages screamed, his blue staff slipping from his numb, terrified hands.

"Shatter the anchors!" Felix growled through gritted teeth.

The six void tendrils whipped across the grand plaza, slicing through the air with a deafening whistle. They slammed directly into the four stone obelisks powering the ward. The heavy granite pillars groaned, cracked, and burst into clouds of fine grey dust.

The golden dome flickered once, turned dark grey, and shattered into a rain of glittering, harmless light particles that dissolved before touching the floor.

The shockwave knocked the city watchmen off their feet, sending barricades tumbling across the avenue. The High Priest stumbled backward, falling hard onto his hip on the wet marble, his staff rolling away into a puddle.

"My barrier..." the old man whimpered, staring at the dust of the obelisks. "The sacred ward..."

Felix walked through the settling dust, his heavy boots coming to a stop right over the High Priest’s golden staff. He raised his boot and crushed the delicate wooden shaft into splinters.

"Where are the royal archives?" Felix asked, leaning down until his purple eyes were inches from the old man’s terrified face. "Where are the records of the Void Sovereign?"

"In... in the throne room!" the High Priest babbled, clutching his chest as he cowered against the wet stone. "The King locked them beneath the throne ten years ago! Please, do not drain me!"

Felix looked past the weeping priest toward the massive, fifty-foot iron doors of the royal palace.

"I have no use for your weak core, old man," Felix said flatly, turning his back on him. "Live long enough to watch your kingdom fall."

He took three steps toward the grand palace entrance, but before his hand could touch the iron door handles, a deep, sickening rumble vibrated straight up through the mountain rock.

The marble plaza cracked open beneath their feet. Long, black fissures tore across the avenue, swallowing fountains and stone pillars whole.

Inside the palace, a deafening screech echoed out—a sound far larger and darker than anything Felix had encountered in the pit. The massive iron doors of the throne room buckled outward with a violent, terrifying metallic roar, blowing off their hinges and crashing into the courtyard.

From within the shattered doorway of the throne room, a blinding column of dark purple fire shot straight into the sky, revealing a massive tear in reality t

earing open behind the royal seat.