They walked by many homes and halls, through many courtyards and squares, until they reached the southern walls of Goshar. A gateway rose here, flanked with granite statues, and through it Issari saw the green lands she sought. A place of freedom, of plenty, of peace.

"A new home for Eteer," she whispered. "From fire and blood into green lands and blue skies."

She had taken one step through the archway, had placed one foot into the lands beyond, when she heard the shrieks behind her and smelled the stench of rot.

She turned around.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

They flew above the city like a cloud of locust, hundreds strong, their wings buzzing, their eyes blazing, their maws dripping, their shrieks echoing.

Issari trembled, her eyes dampened, and her heart thrashed against her ribs.

"Nephilim," she whispered.

JEID

 
JEID

The scream echoed through the tunnels.

Jeid cursed and ran.

"Again!" Dorvin shouted, running behind him. "Stars damn it! What in the Abyss?"

All along the tunnel walls, the exiled Vir Requis huddled in human form, faces dour. Some whimpered and others wept. Some simply stared sternly, clenching their fists. A few lay on the cave floor, clutching wounds from the battle at Requiem: the stumps of limbs, gaping gashes, and flesh wilted by the sphinx smoke.

But right now we face a new enemy, Jeid thought, racing by them. An unknown shadow in the dark.

The scream rose once more, then faded. Jeid took several wrong turns through the labyrinth in the mountain, backtracked, and finally smelled the stench of death. He followed his nose and there, in a narrow tunnel far from the cave entrance, he saw it—another corpse.

The woman lay on the ground, glassy eyes staring, mouth frozen in anguish. Like all the others, her chest had been cracked, the ribs tugged open like swinging doors, and the innards scooped out.

"Gutted like a fish," Dorvin said. He came to stand at Jeid's side, chest heaving, and wiped sweat off his brow. "Fifth damn one. Grizzly, what's doing this?" The young, dark-haired man spun around and shouted, "Show yourself! Whoever you are, come here and fight me like a man."

Jeid stared down at the corpse, feeling just as hollow. The slain woman was named Serra, a pale gatherer of berries with short black hair and dark eyes. She had been so young, not yet twenty, all her life still awaiting her.

She should have lived to see Requiem flourish, Jeid thought. She should have married, raised a family, lived in peace and died in old age in the light of our halls . . . not here. Not like this.

"Come on!" Dorvin was screaming, spinning his arms around. Spittle flew from his mouth. "Come on and face us, damn it! Come and—"

"Dorvin." Jeid pointed at the ceiling. "Look."