12.6.0

More than a century had passed since the night Zyrdicia's mother burned in Martyr's Square, but the stones in the space still bore the black scars of fire. Delirious with anguish, Zyrdicia paused on the edge of the plaza and regarded an enormous statue of Azriok placed there to commemorate his rescue of her from the Crusaders. The first Council had commissioned it as part of the festivities following Lyr's liberation. The statue held its wings up proudly. It looked down upon the square protectively, like the guardian angel that Azriok had always been. Standing before it, Zyrdicia pressed her face weakly into the cold stone and whispered, "I should never have doubted you. Forgive me!"

She lingered there a moment then walked into the gaping, main entrance of the Temple, as any worshipper would have. She normally came and went through its many secret side entrances and underground tunnels. It was her temple, after all. Tonight she felt a need to approach the space more reverently.

She passed through the cavernous main chamber, not even bothering to look at the elaborate black altar still dedicated to Zyr. A wide passage led her to a small shrine that had fallen into disuse since Azros' death. She expected to find it abandoned. To her surprise, a single, blood-red candle burned next to Azriok's altar. Someone had recently strewn the altar with fresh rose petals.

To her knowledge, Azriok, like Zyr, had no remaining priesthood. Azros had been the last. Deities trapped in Hell were of little practical value to human worshippers, particularly when Zyrdicia competed for the mortal attention with earthbound displays of might. Even in her present incoherent state, she was quite astonished to see this shrine still in use. Waiting for you with open arms, Baal's voice murmured softly in her head.

She carefully brushed the flower remnants off of the altar stone with her blood-caked fingers. Whispering the Tenaebran words of a sacrificial dedication she knew Azriok was unable to hear, she then knelt before the altar and laid her cheek upon the stone slab. She craved sleep and knew that when her exhausted, bloodless body passed into unconsciousness, Azriok would be there to receive her in the dreamworld. She had not the strength to perform the ritual to absorb the Seraphim magic tonight so that she could transport herself to Tenaebra. It did not matter. Azriok would bring her there if she asked him to. He would not forsake her. The altar would provide an easy gate for him to retrieve her body effortlessly this time. She intended to tell him how to locate Zyr's chosen progenitor, to help him open a gate from Hell to lay waste to her father's plan. She sighed sadly as she felt the darkness starting to descend on her mind, bidding this world farewell.

12.6.1

Magnus entered the Old Temple at a full run. He had received a message from an informant that Zyrdicia was in Azriok's shrine. That was bad. Very bad.

He opened the door to the shrine and found her dozing upon the altar. He touched the back of her head gently. There was no point asking if she was alright - she clearly was not.

She stirred as he knelt down on the ground next to her and lifted her head up gently so that he could see her face. The sight of it shocked him. Her ashen complexion and desolate expression shook him to the very core of his being.

He took her hands and found them balled up in tight little fists. That was totally unlike her. He looked down at them and pried her fingers open delicately. He realized immediately what she had done. He saw the fresh incisions on her wrist and paused to verify that the wounds were closed.

She did not have to tell him who was responsible. He already knew, and his heart ached for her. He embraced her wordlessly.

"Leave me alone," she begged.

"Alone is something you will never be as long as I'm alive," Magnus answered, squeezing her against him. She rested her head on his shoulder weakly. He knew instinctively that she wanted to be held. Her bloodless body felt cold in his arms. She was oblivious to the fact that her body was in shock. She shivered unknowingly. He pulled off his leather coat and wrapped it around her.

"What has Azriok done to you now?" Magnus whispered.

She did not answer. He could not tell whether she had even heard the question. After several minutes she said, "Since you are here, we can say goodbye."

"That isn't even remotely funny," the assassin said quietly.

"I have to do it."

"You aren't thinking clearly. The blood loss..."

"I'm fine," Zyrdicia said blankly.

"And that is why you can hardly speak? Do you even know what day it is - or what month it is for that matter?"

Zyrdicia looked at him vacantly. She had not the vaguest clue. "That doesn't matter. I have to go to him."

"Please tell me what happened!" Magnus said urgently. Getting her to talk about whatever had transpired would be the first step in reeling her in from the darkness.

Zyrdicia lacked the words to tell the story of Baal's visit coherently. It came out in fragments, related in an distant tone. Magnus distracted her with gentle questions at every turn, drawing the details of the encounter out carefully. The process took a great deal of time, given her exhausted state. She was resigned to going to Tenaebra to join Azriok. Nothing Magnus could say could dissuade her from that decision. He was certain she was not herself. She was beyond his reach and needed more help than he could offer.

He reached around her to get to the pocket of his coat. He was glad now that the coat was blanket around her, for the pocket was behind her. From it, he withdrew a flask of cognac. He then pulled a tiny vial out of a hidden pocket in his sleeve and dumped its entire contents into the flask. The movement was so quick and subtle that even a very observant person would have never noticed. He had perfected the technique long ago. He possessed unparalleled finesse in the art of poisoning.

He held the flask to her lips and coaxed, "Drink. You will feel better. Trust me!" He stroked her hair and watched her throat muscles contract as she swallowed.