Chapter Text
If there was one thing that Lumine was absolutely certain of, then it was the fact that Liyue’s unwritten rules had the potential to fill an entire library, should the perpetually overworked officials ever find the time to document them on paper. Months have passed since her arrival in the country of contracts, and still she managed to embarrass herself at least once a week. At this point, she suspected the local deities must have shaken their heads at least once or twice. That is to say, if they could see her at all from the tops of their ever clouded mountains.
“Such a pitiful child,” they no doubt uttered. “So utterly hopeless.”
Xiangling always chuckled whenever Lumine mentioned this, and waved her hand, reassuring her that there was no such thing. “The gods of Liyue are kind,” she said, “if you honor the contracts,” she added, but whenever Lumine asked her whatever that meant, Xiangling only smiled apologetically and shrugged her shoulders, almost as if it was something so simple and obvious that it required no words.
“You’ll know,” she said. “Just follow common sense.”
This common sense, regrettably, has eluded Lumine ever since.
Of course, that particular day was no exception.
Her nerves were ablaze.
The incessant rain had turned the once secure mountain road into a slippery slide, and yet the thievery weasel seemed to mind none of it, leaping from stone to stone with practiced ease. Whenever she thought that she almost got it, the damned thing managed to display infuriating dexterity, so that her fingers only barely grazed the brush of its tail.
“Give it back, you thief!” Lumine gasped, ignoring the dangerously squelching sounds of her soaked shoes, her eyes hooked on the swiftly disappearing form. More precisely, she focused in on the dangling straps of her bag that the insolent creature had snatched away while she wasn’t paying attention.
That had been her first mistake, though retrospectively not the worst one.
"Give it back! You’ve no idea how long it’s taken me to get that cor lapis clean off the stone! The vishaps almost crushed me!" She gritted her teeth, almost slipping when the path took a sharp turn. “And that chili didn’t collect itself! Give it back, or else…!”
Alas, her shouts only fueled its speed. Desperate, she took a daring leap. Her hand darted forward, her fingers sliding through a handful of grass. Missed, again. “I’ll roast you!” she spat, clenching her fists. “I’ll roast you and I won’t mind that you’ve barely any meat!” Admittedly, Xiangling once said that weasels weren’t particularly tasty. Their fur, on the other hand…
The weasel squeaked, as if catching on to her thoughts. Then, in a sudden change of tactic, it swiveled off the road, jumping into a pair of bushes. Lumine’s breath caught. Within half a heartbeat, its tail disappeared, and her property along with it.
With a desperate cry, she lunged after. Her hand dove into the space between the branches, clenching at the first tangible object that it came across. She paused, exhaling. Retracting her hand, she glowered at a fistful of brown leaves and mud. Disappointed, she kicked the first stone she could find.
That was, no doubt, her second mistake.
The next thing she knew, her foot slipped on the damp moss. The branches snapped. Her body twisted like a clumsy doll, arms flying upwards the murky skies, as if to curse every single illuminated immortal, before plummeting gracelessly into a dark abyss.
She fell, as if struck by their curse. In alternating steps, her back hit what felt and smelled like a mixture of wet soil and half-decomposed foliage, before sliding sideways and freely dropping a meter or two. This went on for what felt like eternity until, finally, she managed to dig her heels into solid ground. After this, she slid another meter or two, the motion slowing, before suddenly losing support and dropping onto flat ground.
And just like that, it was over.
For a minute or two, Lumine simply lay there, listening to her raspy breaths. Her chest burned with anger, yet her limbs throbbed with fatigue, gluing her to the spot. She could feel the wet glaze of mud all over her backside, sprinkled with torn grass to finish the dish. Cursed thief! Bringing a hand up to her forehead, she combed through a few sticky strands of hair, brushing them to the side.
At last, she managed a wry smile. “Something is telling me that I won’t be dining at Xiangling's tonight…” Her voice echoed in a mocking tone. With a defeated sigh, Lumine scrambled up. Then she blinked, forgetting for a moment that she was very much in a terrible mood.
Her mistakes, it seemed, had brought her to a cavern. Despite the moderate darkness, the moist earth was lined with grass and rocks that emitted a warm, yellowish light. Elemental energy, she thought, geo type. Not an uncommon sight in the mountains of Liyue.
There were flowers, too. She singled out one that jutted out just beside her feet. She brushed its petals, which appeared both sturdy and brittle, and hummed under her touch. Is that… glass? Her eyes narrowed in on the pointy leaves, arranged in two neat layers. An imitation of a glaze lily? Geo-infused crystals did that sometimes, she recalled, inspecting the specimen with heightened interest.
Glaze lilies were known to fetch a good price at the market, despite their pitifully short shelf-life. It stood to reason that a long-lasting imitation such as this one was bound to go for a good sum of mora. She made a sound, hand hovering in indecision. Plucking wild glaze lilies was not necessarily a forbidden act.
But this was no ordinary plant.
She licked her lips nervously, then retracted her hand, careful so as not to damage a single petal. Then, she took a resolute step back, hoping that no one had seen her. Knowing her luck, she better not touch anything until she was absolutely certain that it was safe to take.
And speaking of.
Remembering what had brought her to this place, she pricked her ears, trying to discern the sound of small, thievery feet. Her breath stopped. She could hear some pitter and patter of water, accompanied by the nervous beat of her heart. About half a minute passed before she sighed in disappointment.
I guess I won’t be seeing my bag again.
She clicked her tongue, saying goodbye to the cleanly cut pieces of cor lapis that had almost cost her her sword. “I suppose Aether will have to survive without a souvenir,” she mumbled, straightening the wet folds of her dress that clung uncomfortably to her legs. “In any case, I best find a way out first, lest he also be robbed of a sister.”
With newfound determination, her gaze roamed over the rest of the cavern. Soon enough, her eyes hooked on an opening at the far back. It was mostly unassuming, framed by two unidentifiable lumps of stone. A path led to it, the stone almost entirely obscured by moss and dirt.
The sight tickled her adventurer spirit. Could she find a treasure, if she went further in?
Assuming that I’ve already used up all my bad luck…
Her mind uncertain, Lumine inspected the tunnel that she’d fallen through. Some earth and mud had followed her, forming a pile. A quick zig-zag motion of her foot revealed half-buried steps just below the spot where she’d landed, suggesting that this cavern had once seen frequent use. That must have been quite some time ago, however, since the tunnel was now filled with dirt and foliage. In fact, she was certain she would have never found the entrance, were it not for that weasel thief. She looked up, seizing up the tunnel. Regrettably, in its current state it wasn’t as big as she’d hoped, and seemed so slippery that she doubted she’d have any luck climbing back up.
Hopefully, it wasn’t the only way out.
"Just follow common sense, they said…" As if pulled by an unseen force, her gaze traveled back to the mysterious entrance. On cue, a breeze of warm air traveled over, caressing her shivering skin. “I guess it’s telling me to go straight ahead,” she murmured, through chattering teeth.
She passed the guardian stones, entering a tunnel. With time, the initially narrow path grew wider, and more and more lumps of stone appeared to line it. This went on until she stopped, regarding one with surprise. “Huh, I think it’s actually a statue…” Time and erosion had smoothed out the details, but she could tell that it was no human shape. “Well, Xiangling did say that the gods of Liyue have animal forms. This could be one of them. Or their familiar, in any case.” She took a respectful step backwards. Though lacking eyes, it almost felt as if the statues watched her.
The feeling intensified as she moved on. It was not hostile, she noticed. More like a gentle trickle, probing her sides and back. She mustered them as she walked, trying to guess their original shape. At first, they had looked like lions, similar to those that guarded the administrative office back in Liyue harbor. It was only after taking yet another turn that she'd come to realize what they truly were.
She stopped abruptly. Two statues stood before her, framing an archway. They were as tall as an average man, their frame long and erected on their hind legs. Their faces were tilted downwards in her direction, and their jade eyes studied her carefully.
“Dragons,” she whispered in awe. She walked closer. Unlike their brothers and sisters, these two guardians seemed so well-preserved that she almost felt like she'd walked back in time itself.
Still, they were just lumps of stone.
The dragons’ eyes followed her calmly as she entered the chamber beyond. Silvery light beamed from the ceiling. As odd as it would have been, considering she had been walking down all this time, her first thought was that she’d reached the surface. Then, squinting lightly, she made out the shapes of luminescent crystals that dotted the ceiling. They were embedded in what seemed like a frame of mora-colored metal. Despite the sheen of moisture on both the ceiling and the walls, they bore no hints of corrosion.
This discovery helped stifle her disappointment. Making a note to hand in a report at the adventurer’s guild, Lumine turned her attention to the rest of the chamber.
A large block of polished stone was nestled against the far back wall. Following the cracked pathway, she approached what looked like a massive bed. The stone felt warm to the touch. Captivated by its pleasant feel, she let her fingers slide over its smooth side until she felt a series of bumps. Kneeling down, she made out a message that appeared to be written in Liyuen native script.
She clicked her tongue. A pity she’d yet to learn how to read it.
She averted her eyes. Beside the odd stone bed was a basin of gently running water. Two golden pipes protruded from the wall, delivering fresh water that disappeared through little slits in the basin. She scooped up a handful. It was pleasantly warm, just like the stone.
Well, at least I won’t die of thirst!
“Forgive me if what I’m about to do is offensive,” she said to the guardians outside. Then, carefully, she dipped her arms inside and washed off some of the mud. A tense minute later, she retracted her arms.
Sure enough, the guardians had not come to life, and had not fallen upon her.
Nothing had happened, except that now she felt warm and clean. She hummed. Then, after a pensive heartbeat, she disrobed herself. The water barely came up to her ankles, but it was enough to wash off most of the grime. Thoroughly satisfied, she left the bath and spread her dress and shoes on the cleaner stone floor. Her underwear had mostly survived the journey, so she slipped it back on. The top was slightly damp, though.
“I don’t suppose I’ll meet anyone down here, but… well. It’s better to be safe.” Lumine took a breath, which promptly turned into a long yawn. Coincidentally, her gaze traveled to the stone bed. Surely, no one would mind…? Her hand froze at her mouth as she contemplated her options.
At the same time, Xiangling's face popped up before inner mind's eye. Lumine frowned. Was there not something her friend had once told her, something about having fallen asleep in some cave?
She scratched her head. Unhelpfully, her tired mind provided all sorts of embarrassing episodes of her travels in Liyue—everything except what Xiangling had said.
Lumine sighed, lowering her hand. Surely she would've remembered it if it concerned matters of life and death. And in any case, it would soon be nighttime. Even if, by some miracle, she did find a more comfortable way out, she’d still have to hike down the mountain, minding the slippery road.
“A bed of warm stone, or the floor…” She dropped a skeptical gaze. “Oh, I’m definitely not into bug bites. And what if there’s mice around? No, no, no. My common sense is telling me that I won’t take the floor.”
With a determined huff, she climbed onto the platform, keeping her sheathed sword close to her chest. After all, one could never be careful enough. Once she was all the way up, she took a last, furtive glance to where the guardian statues stood just beyond the entrance. Then, releasing a half-tired and half-guilty sigh, she lay on her side.
A few nervous heartbeats passed.
She cuddled one cheek against the smooth stone, in spite of her apprehension, marveling at how quickly the warmth spread through her skin. It felt so nice that after a minute or so, she was certain that not even a horde of monsters could peel her off. Her limbs grew heavy.
Then—like a wild animal—her stomach growled.
She bit her lip, clutching her stomach. Her last meal had been in the morning, when she had dropped by the Wanmin Restaurant to ask if Xiangling’s father wanted anything from the mountains. He often asked for jueyun chilies, sometimes requesting qingxins if she was lucky enough to find some.
Her stomach made another sound.
She sighed. By now, Xiangling’s father must have already heated the oil. It was also around this time that he expected her to return.
She squeezed her eyes shut, suppressing the guilt that throbbed in her guts. Instead, she redirected her thoughts to the old ruin, and the mysterious inscription on the bed of stone. Would could it possibly say? If only she had a slip of paper to copy the message and bring it back to the city. Could a scholar decipher it? What if it said something exciting? Something like… “Here lies buried treasure!” she mumbled with a smile. That could explain the guardian stones. “Though knowing my luck,” she added, yawning, “it’s far more likely to be something ordinary. Like, Caution, falling stones…”
She shrugged, clutching her sword a little closer to her chest.
Finally, her eyes fell shut.
A shudder ran through his slumbering form.
It was distantly familiar—that feeling that brushed over his scales. Like a little bug, it started walking from somewhere at the tip of his tail, wandering gradually up his spine. When he attempted to dismiss it—attributing it to the remnants of his previous dream—the tickling of small, invisible feet morphed into a restless child’s finger, poking at every single one of his scales. And when even that did not prove sufficient to stir him, it pulled, at last, at his mane and horns.
His whiskers slashed, attempting to shake off this impudent hand. But the feeling persisted. And it was pulling, pulling—
Grudgingly, Rex Lapis woke to the familiar sight of his abode. Confused and heavy-eyed, he tipped his head, turning it left, then right, his thoughts carrying a single query:
How peculiar. Who could have activated the forgotten altar?
His memories, though somewhat fuzzy and smoothed out by time, suggested that the last form of worship had taken place sometime before the great-grandparents of the current generation had been born.
Oh, but that was before he went into slumber.
Rex Lapis bobbed his head, shifting his weight from one limb to the other. Surely, he mused, time couldn’t have eroded his mind to a point where he was now imagining such things. He was old, but not that old. Certainly not so that his mind would conjure up the pull of the old contract, which in turn demanded that he oversee the ceremony and receive the gift.
Rex Lapis rose, uncoiling his body. He stretched his long spine, relishing in the crackling sounds his joints made. Having had this pleasure, he elevated a single paw, inspecting the unfailing, golden glint of his claws. Then, his gaze turned to the rest of his form. "I suppose," he muttered pensively, " that I ought to change if I am to inspect the goods… Besides, this skin is, admittedly, a little old."
He heaved a sigh, as if loathing what was to come. In the next instance, his body twisted, forming a tight coil.
The actual change happened fast. Faster, certainly, than any thought he ever had on the matter. In the blink of a moment, his form melted, forming an egg. Then, the shell cracked, as if crushed by an invisible hand, revealing the flesh that he had fashioned in the mortals’ image.
“And now I recall why I had always had reservations about this…” he muttered, now balancing on his two legs. It took but a moment to readjust, but it made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable. He brushed off the dust and splitters, before giving his form a critical look. Not a single limb was allowed to be missing, as mortals tended to be very particular about these sorts of little details.
Come to think of it…
A sudden smile tugged at his lips, mischievous yet fond. “Nothing is missing. Yet, I believe Streetward Rambler would scold me severely if I were to appear before the mortals in naught but this skin.” His gaze fixed the mansion, its roofs stretching just below the rock that he had picked as his resting spot.
Soon enough he found himself standing in his personal chamber, staring at the near empty cavern that was his closet. His eyes grew, ever so slightly. Then, at last, his memory supplied him with a recollection of a certain incident that took place just before his slumber. One that had forced him to discard the majority of his garments.
He sighed. His gaze wandered about the chamber, fixing in on the curtain that framed the bed.
“Without doubt, I have done worse in the past,” he told himself reassuringly, inspecting himself in the mirror after he somehow donned it on. The cloth hung loose, but looked almost manageable after he secured it with a belt. He nodded to himself, making a note to restock his closet.
“Well then,” he said, his eyes lighting up with anticipation, “I believe it is impolite to have my worshipers wait.”
The old shrine was a small building of white stone, squashed inconspicuously between the roots of a big tree and a tasteful, moss-covered formation of rocks. Its modesty betrayed none of the importance that it had carried throughout several centuries worth of active worship—which was exactly how he had wanted it to be.
He eyeballed a small panel of jade beside the locked door, dull and missing a corner. Despite this less than reassuring sight, he pressed his hand against. To his delight, the door unlocked on the first try, sliding near soundlessly to the side.
“I must remember to thank Cloud Retainer,” he said with a smile. “Her workmanship never disappoints.”
Beyond was a small front chamber, featuring naught but the beginning of a spiral staircase that led into what looked like a black hole. “On another note,” he mused, peering into its depths, “perhaps I should have put in a word a word when she’d suggested the design for this staircase. In fact, why should there be a staircase at all?”
His friend’s voice hallowed in his mind, her tone permitting no concessions.
“The extra stairs are to allow one to contemplate life as one stretches one’s legs,” he could almost hear her say, fixing her critical gaze on the bottle of wine and a plate of snacks that he had brought to celebrate the shrine’s completion. “The age of war is long past us, which is why one must insist that the Prime of Adepti takes caution and exercises at least once a year.”
Propelled by this memory, down he went.
His hand swiped the pitch-black wall, his path illuminated by the occasional, half-extinguished crystal that he had once embedded into the stone. When his sight grew accustomed to the darkness and he no longer needed to focus on where he stepped, Rex Lapis allowed his mind to wander. Recalling, with just a sliver of regret, how the tea times at his abode had gradually gotten quieter as more and more of his friends abandoned their redundant stations, some even leaving for the mortal realm.
And then the first one took a mortal disciple, and the next one followed…
His steps created a lonely echo as he descended further. The once fresh walls smelled of damp soil and moss. Though he no longer needed the wall for support, Rex Lapis brushed his fingers against it anyway, mending the little cracks wherever he could. He could do this much, he thought, even if he decidedly lacked the talent for the finer crafts.
Besides, impractical though they were, the shrine and the needlessly long staircase were both a dear reminder of this friends’ care. Just as Cloud Retainer had instructed, he had regularly walked these stairs, and had only stopped doing so when the age of peace had covered the former places of worship with a solid and comforting blanket of earth.
“And yet some mortals still remember…” With that thought, Rex Lapis crossed the last few steps, halting in front of an ornate archway. What could the mortals have brought him? A newly discovered gem? Their artisans’ finest work?
Good cloth would make for a splendid offering.
Thus fueled with an almost unbecomingly strong anticipation, Rex Lapis passed the archway, his eyes flitting excitedly to the altar. The solid block was Cloud Retainer’s finest masterpiece, though he had yet to fully understand the intricacies of its inner workings. All that he knew, in fact, was that it served no other purpose than to establish a contract-based connection between his abode and the mortal realm.
Sure enough, something lay atop the altar.
Something… no.
He staggered once his mind caught up to what his eyes saw, and thrust out his hand. This served to steady him by wall, a good few steps away, though it did little to calm the quake in his chest. Repulsion filled him, etching his mouth with its bitter taste. He parted his lips, but no sound came out.
A creature of flesh—was his first coherent thought after he swallowed down the thick lump in his throat. Then, a woman—so youthful and delicate that she must have barely entered adulthood. So peaceful, for a human offering, may the earth and the skies forgive him for calling her that.
He approached her quietly.
Her chest rose and fell evenly, suggesting sound sleep that may or may not have been induced by some herbal substance. More importantly, there was a far more of her chest and other parts to be seen than he thought appropriate, which in turn roused a nagging thought in his head. He brushed it off. It would do him no good to jump to conclusions. Not before he questioned her first, and heard her side of the story. Provided that she could talk, of course.
He scrutinized her further, insofar as his manners allowed him. It was her hair that attracted his gaze the most. It was gold, a shade that one rarely saw on Liyuen mortals.
Unbidden, his fingers itch for a touch.
He kept them to himself, tilting his head.
She was beautiful, Rex Lapis concluded. And that alone spoke more than a prayer with a thousand words.
Suddenly, a guttural grunt bore in his throat. It would have sounded like a roar, had he still worn his other form. His thoughts swirled violently, and his hands balled into fists. Have human morals degraded to the point where it was considered acceptable to send a young woman as a sacrifice to their very own god? To the very god who had painstakingly taught them the value of all things, including human life?
His thoughts snapped when he noticed that the ground began to shake. He shook his head, stifling the rising anger. There is a time and place for everything, Rex Lapis told himself. Then, taking a deep breath, he regarded the poor victim of mortal folly, who slept so innocently despite having been offered up like a sacrificial lamb.
“It must be cold here,” he remarked, noting that she hadn’t even been clothed in ceremonial garb. Had they had nothing to give her? Naught but a small sword that she now clutched onto like it was her lifeline? “I suppose,” he added, shaking his head, “that I ought to wake her and have her drink some tea first. Yes… That is a good idea, for the poor thing must be in a state of shock.”
Besides, the old shrine was no place for a mortal to sleep.
Rex Lapis brought up his hand, pausing as he deliberated how to wake her. Then, using the back of his fingers, he touched her cheek, grazing the strands of her hair just a little.
This choice was, naturally, not deliberate on his part.
He blinked, disregarding that sliver of guilt. He had expected her to be cold to the touch. But instead, he felt a vibrant hum—a startling resonance of his core with the bone below the flesh where his fingers had grazed her.
His brows furrowed in confusion. Then, his eyes opened in quiet wonder. “Oh, it seems that I am an old fool,” he uttered, retracting his hand. “She is… a traveling star.” If it hadn’t before, his chest now overflowed with pity. "Poor thing," he said, his voice dropping low. "Just what sort of terrible calamity has befallen the mortals? To send an outsider on their behalf!"
It happened in the same moment as when he spoke those words: the pitiful fallen star stirred. Her eyes opened to reveal a pair of golden eyes—like two coins of mora—distracting him well enough so that he missed the point when they fixed upon him, widening to what seemed like the size of two golden plates.
And then came a sharp gasp, followed by a swing of her sword that he dodged by pure instinct. Not that it would have hurt him. But it would’ve been a pity, indeed, if she’d ruined his former curtains. They were, after all, made of the finest fabric.
Lumine’s heart hammered so loud that, for a moment, it was the only thing she could hear. Thus rendered deaf to all but its beat, she stared at the man that had so effortlessly evaded her sword. She hadn’t tried a second swing. She would only fail. She knew, because her instincts were always good when it came to such matters.
The man stood still. Almost like a statue. She did not know what he reminded her of, but there was a nagging thought, somewhere in the back of her mind.
He regarded her calmly. Unfazed, it seemed, by her offensive act. He had crossed his arms after evading her, but his posture remained mostly relaxed. Almost as if he was certain that a single flick of his fingers would be enough to snap her foolish neck.
She swallowed thickly. This was no ordinary man. Gritting her teeth, Lumine tried to recall if she’s done anything bad. But no, she hadn’t plucked that glaze lily, and she hadn’t even so much as touched the dragon statues. The only thing she did was lay on that stone. Well, and take a bath. But surely, that didn’t count as offense?
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice raspy. The rain hadn’t done her much good.
The man’s brow twitched, as if confused by her question. His expression gave off the impression that she’d just marched into the Jade Chamber, brazenly raised her finger at Lady Ningguang, and shamelessly demanded to know her name.
"I should ask the same of you,” he said, pronouncing each word slowly. Though he appeared calm, his voice carried a strain, almost as if holding back something that was entirely too big for her to comprehend. “Tell me. What were the mortals hoping to gain by offering you on the altar?”
A cold shiver ran along her spine. Offering? The altar? What has she gotten herself into this time?
“Oh, heavens, no,” she interjected, hastily sliding off the stone as if it was a bursting volcano. Once her feet touched the ground, she hurriedly looked to where she had left her dress. To her mortification, it was no where to find. Her gaze scanned haphazardly across the floor. How odd. Have the stone plates always been so cleanly polished?
She closed her arms around herself, unable to help it. Her gaze flicked to the strange man, cheeks reddening precautionary, as if anticipating that he’ll soon accuse her of public indecency. Not that he had much right to say anything of the sort on the matter. She eyed the white cloth, which he had slung across one of his shoulders. It glistened lustrously, though she couldn’t point her finger on what it reminded her of.
Either way, she surmised, they both would be equally accused by the millelith, were they to walk like this in the city. Not that she was in any position to say this out loud. She cleared her throat. "What I was meaning to say is that it's nothing of the sort! Nobody has offered anyone on any sort of altar, at least not on purpose. I... truly apologize if I've offended you in some way. Really, I’m just a passing adventurer, and I had only meant to take a short nap!”
A heavy pause followed.
"You... fell asleep?" His eyes softened a fraction, which she took as a good enough sign to continue.
"You must be what they call an adeptus? My apologies for disturbing your rest.” She placed a hand on her chest, offering what she hoped was a passably polite bow. “That is to say, I shall leave right away—"
She made a move, aiming for the archway that she had glimpsed past his shoulder, at the same time glimpsing at a sign of him wanting to stop her. He did not move. He did not have to. It was his oddly calm voice that hit her like a falling rock, nailing her to the spot.
"I'm afraid that you can't."
She stared at him, hand clutching her sheathed sword, the leather dampening under her sweating palm. "What do you mean, I can't?"
"What I mean is that, as per the rules of this contract,” the adeptus explained, voice calm as if he was merely reciting a passage from a law book, “an offering will forever remain in my possession. Even if it has been donated… in an unprecedented way."
Possession. Donated. Lumine stared at him, hoping—no—praying to glimpse just a flicker of madness. Because this had to be an elaborate joke. Surely, such a thing couldn’t exist.
“As per the rules,” the adeptus reiterated, as if taking pity when seeing her display of confusion, “YOU are the offering."
Her eyes glimpsed him over, failing to find even a trace of madness. Then, she glanced over his back. The exit was there, all right. And in spite of his words, the adeptus had made no move to shield it.
Perhaps he was playing a prank on her, Lumine thought, desperately, grasping onto her last straw. This fact should have alarmed her; clued her in that something was off. But at that moment, her mind could only think in straight paths. So she did the only thing that seemed reasonable, and that had worked without failure whenever she had gotten herself into trouble:
She ran.