Every territory. The most recent body had been found in the former territory seat of Zsig, the same place they stood now.
There had been refugees from Orban, whose seat was just up the river bank from where Lili had been slain.
Whoever was behind this had figured out how to take down power across the entire Union from the city itself. Seven districts, Seven angels, Seven territories. They couldn’t get to Arany’s heart, but they could break off every limb of magic piece by piece until it didn’t matter. The only reason they weren’t seeing the direct result in Silgard was because they were in the eye of the storm.
“We’ve been so stupid.” His fist clenched with a need to punch the ground. The demon had told them exactly what was planned from the first time it’d put two lines on a body. The Shadow was dark, but it still came from Asten. It hadn’t been corrupted enough to lose all connection to the divine order. It only mirrored it.
Far down the road he could hear the steady march and low voices of another caravan, lucky pilgrims who had no idea of the danger they’d just been saved from, or unlucky refugees who knew it all too well.
They deserved a safe place, but Silgard couldn’t offer it. After his report, the Prelate would want to close off the city and lock down the citizens, at least until they confirmed the gate wards held. Better a handful of people sleep rough than risk bringing more demons through.
24
Csilla
“They can’t shut the city.” Csilla’s shoulders shook as she looked at Mihály’s drawn face, Ilan’s stoic one. “People need to come in. They’ll be safer here.”
Not fully safe. A strange dank odor on Mihály skin lingered even under his clothes, a smell that was half-storm and half-burned sugar wafting off him. His fingers were stained charcoal dark where they had touched the creature.
Those blackened fingers twirled a few chestnut strands of her loose hair in soft connection and Csilla couldn't bring herself to push him away even as her skin crawled. Ilan’s frown only deepened.
“We can’t risk more traffic in or out.”
Her stomach clenched at the very idea. This was a pilgrimage city where people came for hope. No believer should be denied that.
But if Mihály looked bad, Ilan looked worse, and that was only after one brief encounter.
“I should have been there.” She’d let them go alone, convinced it was better, and they might not have come back at all.
“There’s nothing you could have done, and you’re the most vulnerable of us,” Mihály said, a plain truth that still ached. The honeyed affection in his tone was meant as a balm over her worry, but it only made it sting. “We made it back.”
“Does it mean we’re already too late?” But they had managed to banish the demon. They weren’t totally powerless.
“Frankly, it doesn’t matter to me.” Mihály brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, an exhausted tremor in the gesture. “My power is fine. Certainly still effective enough for our plan.“ He slid his arms around her and pulled her to him, delicate fetters around her waist. Ilan coughed and Csilla turned, an elbow wedged against Mihály’s side to give herself air.
“Mihály. It matters to me.“ Whatever the demon contact had brought out in him was ugly and raw. Maybe it had always been there, and the scab had only just been pulled away to reveal the wound beneath.
“We’re likely too late for most of the continent,” Ilan said quietly. “Even if the Incarnate returns now.”
Csilla shook her head, the words refusing to sink in like oil sliding over water. “I don’t understand. The Church’s magic still works, you banished the demon...”
“That was Mihály. I was useless.” The words came with a flash of self-loathing even she could see. “I don’t think you understand the seal, Csilla. In fact, I’m starting to suspect none of us did, not really.”
Mihály opened his mouth to speak, but Csilla stopped him with a raised hand. “What do you mean?”
“You know Silgard was founded to be a central gathering point for the angels; that’s where the districts came from. Each got a seat for their territory, a place for their citizens to stay when they came to the grand cathedral to worship or for an audience with Arany.”
“Yes, and?” That was the most basic point of church history, after the Severing. A significant part of her early lessons had been reciting the territories, their angels and saints, and learning where they’d made their home in the capitol.
“And after Arany’s sacrifice, we wanted people to know. Priests from all the territories took Silgard’s dirt and blood for the mock seals in their home territories.”
“Of course they did. Not everyone can travel to Silgard. It was a kindness to have reminders all over the Union.” The mock seals weren’t powerful except in the way that any visual representation of the faith was.
“It’s a kindness we still bleed over with our vows. But those seals and centuries of blood connected us to this city and our angels, feeding the original seal in loop. And with each polluted district, the connection is severed, the original seal weakened.” Ilan flexed his scarred hand. “I was confirmed in Saika.”
And now that district had fallen and taken Ilan’s blessing with it. What was it the woman she had helped said about Orban? Csilla closed her eyes tightly. She’d said they’d gone through several priests before finding one who could still banish. It must have been one whose home was still tethered. And as each fell, the number of priests who could stand against Shadow shrank.
There were very few confirmed in Silgard itself. The clergy here were more often given the position as a reward.
“So whoever, whatever it is, they have to kill here next.” Csilla kept her eyes down, not wanting to see the confirmation. “And then what? Even if you catch them...” The damage had been done. There wouldn’t be any way to strengthen the seal again. They no longer had any divinity to sacrifice.
“As long as we can keep part alive, there’s hope.” Ilan’s voice was strangely quiet. “I’m working on it. But I’d like to speak to you first. In private.”
Csilla blinked, mind still on the horror she’d just been told. “About what?”
Ilan’s eyes slid to Mihály, and his hands tightened around her.
“I’m not going to let you rake me over when I can’t even defend myself.” Mihály turned her to more firmly look at him. “Please assure him that you know all about what I intend to do with Evie’s soul and that it doesn’t bother you.”
He had an awful lot of confidence in her being unbothered.
Ilan tilted his head. “Is that true? Are you happy to be his lover?”
The direct question, addressed as she rested in Mihály’s arms, sent a bolt of hot shame through her.
The inquisitor stepped closer. “You know he doesn’t even...”