Beyond the tower walls, the demons had fallen strangely silent. Cain heard the call of a single crow, echoing across the courtyard like a harbinger of doom. He pictured the remains of the First Ones, gutted and hung from their feet from the archway, blood pooling on the stone. The image was so strong, he almost believed he was having some kind of vision, and his stomach churned from the truth of it. He must not stop, must not let the horrors that had already happened distract him from his goal. Above him was Leah, and somewhere close was the Dark One, waiting for him.
He only prayed he was not too late.
35
The Ritual Chamber
Leah swam upward through ocean water, the color as black as night. Somewhere far above her head was a hint of blue, and she struggled toward it, her lungs aching, her eyes growing blurry and sightless as she pushed against the void.
At some point the hint of blue changed; it became something else, a black hole, the pupil of a giant unblinking eye. It was the crow from the streets of Caldeum, pecking at ruined flesh and pulling it taut, cocking its head at her as the muscle snapped.
Silly little girl, the crow said. You think you have free will. What you do has no consequence here. I own you.
At that, the voice changed, and the eye melted into the beggar, shouting about the End of Days, his voice ragged and cackling. The sky will turn black, the streets fill with blood! You are doomed. The Dark One is powerful, I tell you. He will raise a demon army! The dead will walk among us!
The beggar melted into Gillian. She stood over Leah with a knife in her hand. The dead are restless, Gillian said. The demons, ready for blood. They want it, Leah. They bathe in it.
And that changed into the image of her real mother, but her face was shrouded in shadow, and she stood silent and motionless. No matter what Leah did—begging and pleading, screaming, crying—her mother did not move, did not react, only stood in the darkness like a statue.
When she opened her eyes, she did not realize at first that she had left the dream. Her surroundings were dark and silent, and the black pupil that had watched her was still there. But as she regained her bearings, Leah realized that what she was seeing was the hooded face of a man, standing before her.
She had no idea how she had gotten here, who the man was, or what he might want from her. The last thing she remembered was being at the camp outside the cave, and the things that had come for them through the trees. Had she been taken by some sort of monster?
Where was Uncle Deckard? Fear prickled her flesh. Why hadn’t he come for her?
The man was chanting something, his voice a low, even tone that brought chills. The floor vibrated all around her, shaking her to the bone. Then she felt something: a gentle pressure against her waist. Deeper fear made her pulse speed up, but her heart fluttered strangely, like a dying bird in her chest, and she felt light-headed.
She looked down at herself.
A creature climbed up her body like a wriggling snake, its hair matted and thin, shoulders nothing but skin and bone. It hunched over her, its claw-like hands pulling at her like the crow with the scrap of dead meat; when it looked up with its black holes for eyes and its purple, cracked lips, she barely recognized the horror of its face. In her mind she saw Gillian again, and the air had become threaded with lines of blood that danced and curled through it like charmed snakes around Gillian’s head before they sank through a hole in the floor and disappeared.
Something came awake in her, something huge and powerful, and before she lost consciousness again and fell down a dark, endless well, Leah gathered the last of her dying strength and screamed, the sound echoing through the stone rooms and beyond, before fading away to the sound of crows, cawing and beating their wings against the walls of the tower like the thunderous applause of an audience waiting for her end to come.
Deckard Cain heard Leah scream.
The sound brought chills, yet it gave him hope. The sound of her scream meant he still had a chance. He redoubled his efforts, and when he glanced up, he was near the top of the staircase and facing a small landing and another closed door. The light came from here—an open window that looked out over the gray sea, where white-sapped swells like the endless movement of time washed onto the rocks.
Cain stood at the window and gasped for breath. Every muscle in his body cried out in agony; every bone ached with each beat of his heart. He had never felt so old and broken; he had no idea how he had been able to climb so high.
When he placed a hand on the wall, he could feel the energy within the tower itself.
It came up through the stone from deep within the ground, or perhaps it was flowing the other way; Cain could not tell. His staff glowed brighter, seeming to feed off the energy as it raced through Cain’s fingers, up his arm and down the other.
He listened to the other side of the door and thought he could hear the sound of movement. A soft thump and a scraping noise drifted out, then, so shockingly loud it made him stumble back, a low, bone-shaking moan of something inhuman.
For a moment Cain could not place why it sounded so familiar, before it suddenly clicked: Jeronnan’s horn.
There were feeders inside.
Cain tried the door and found it unlocked. He swung it open to madness.
The room beyond was circular, taking up the entire circumference of the top of the tower. It was empty of any furniture or other decoration, save for two low, flickering torches set in wall sconces shaped like skeletal hands.
But that was not what held Cain’s gaze. Fingers of dread walked their way down his spine as he looked in horror at the scene before him.
Leah lay face up on the floor in the center of the room, her arms and legs shackled. Feeders were at work on her wrists and ankles, neck and lips, their misshapen, ghoulish bodies writhing in ecstasy, their scalps glistening wetly through strands of white hair. They had latched their purple, worm-like mouths upon her like leeches. Cain could hear the sounds of them sucking at her as their shoulders moved, bones jutting out like wings from their backs.
They looked like giant, featherless birds. Abominations. He shuddered.
Leah’s eyes had rolled back into her head, showing the whites. Her skin was too pale, her breathing fast and shallow, and her flesh seemed to collapse upon itself, as if she was being hollowed out.
Cain ran forward with a small cry, disgust and rage mixing within him as he raised his staff and spoke words that burst from somewhere deep within him. His staff came to brilliant, sparkling life, and before its red glory the feeders hissed and shrank back, one of them making that low moan again. As they hopped to the windowsill, their features changed, feathers growing from flesh, noses turning to black beaks. They flew away, flapping into the wind.
Cain crouched next to Leah, touching her face; her flesh was cold and clammy, and she did not stir. But she was not dead, not yet; he could feel the faint, feathery pulse in her wrist. Outrage washed over him again as he cupped her head gently to his chest. They will pay for this.