Maybe the situation would make more sense when Ziel wasn’t so tired.
Noroloth’s Remnant slithered against the barrier of the silver script and never took its eye off Ziel.
“I will make you a deal,” the Remnant called. “Release me from this prison, and I will grant you my endless treasures.”
Silver runes spun around the Herald Remnant. More still-Forged sigils of the Rune Queen.
Potential keys to her power.
Ziel looked to the ceiling and extended his spiritual perception. Lately, when he listened to the distant hum of the script, he could more easily hear something beneath it. Something that called to him, that reminded him of protecting others. Like a song he had once known.
Ziel stretched his perception further, searching for a maze through the wreckage.
Something touched his spiritual sense and he shot to his feet. He had no madra left to cycle, but he hauled up his hammer with the remaining strength of his body.
“Orthos!” he called, but the turtle was already awake. Black-and-red eyes were wide.
“Ziel…”
“Yeah.” Ziel hadn’t felt a spiritual presence like that since the labyrinth. It probably wasn’t one of the Dreadgods, not unless the Phoenix had sent only a chunk of itself, but it was still an opponent they couldn’t handle.
Ziel turned to the Remnant. “I’ll make you a deal. We work together so we don’t all die, and then we fight each other afterwards.”
The Remnant slithered up close to the barrier. “There is an enemy? Who is it? Release me so that I may sense for myself!”
Ziel readied his hammer. “I’ll release you right now if you swear on your own soul not to harm us while we face a mutual threat.”
“Swear to a human? I would rather die!”
“You died a thousand years ago.”
Orthos cleared his throat. “You should listen. We don’t need help.”
The entire wreckage of Shatterspine Castle trembled. Ziel’s perception was overwhelmed and he withdrew it. If he hadn’t been discovered already, he didn’t want to be.
“Ziel,” Orthos rumbled. “That’s Lindon.”
Ziel stared at Orthos for a second.
Then he scoffed. “No, it isn’t.”
“I’m telling you—”
“If you’re wrong, we’re betting our lives on it.”
Orthos shook his head. “It’s hard for me to believe, but I can feel him.”
Ziel considered the situation. He looked to the Herald Remnant writhing inside the script.
Then the roof began to drift upward. Someone was operating aura of force and wind on a scale Ziel could only match if he was full of soulfire and supported by an entire script. And this newcomer was doing so with a precision Ziel could scarcely comprehend.
Every piece of debris was grabbed and levitated independently, with no degree of error. Whoever this was, they were lifting all of Shatterspine Castle.
“Let me go!” Noroloth roared. “Let me fight!”
Ziel readied his hammer. “If this is Lindon, he’ll help us beat this Remnant like it’s nothing. If it isn’t, we’ll have to use the gatestones.”
Orthos gave a smoky sigh.
A silver rune shattered under Ziel’s hammer and the Rune Queen’s script began to shake. This circle was sturdier than the others, and he had to strike down three more key sigils as the castle wreckage rose higher and higher.
Finally, Ziel weakened the seal enough that the Remnant striking from the inside was enough to shatter it.
“At last!” the spirit of the black dragon prince cried. “I am fr—”
Its perception stretched upward and froze. Then the spiritual sense spun right back into its soul.
“Put me back!” Noroloth demanded.
Ziel stared at the Remnant as Orthos gave a dry chuckle.
Now that Shatterspine Castle had lifted enough to expose their underground chamber completely, a man drifted closer. Pearls of Forged force madra hovered behind him as he drew on them for power. The same pearls he’d Consumed and vented from the Rune Queen’s madra. He was using them to fuel the Ruler technique that lifted the castle.
He was a hulking figure, radiating hunger, with a white right arm and robes that were torn and scorched from battle. His eyes were black, like Orthos’， but instead of the bright red circles for irises that Ziel was familiar with, these were shining white.
Ziel recognized the face, but the feel of him was completely different.
“Apologies,” Lindon said.
The Herald’s Remnant fled.