“I don’t need particulars. Most of the time, unbound demons pop into singularity and take a few cubic miles of planet along, but this one’s big. It might have chewed up the whole world before it burst. So you caged it.” Keep her talking. Don’t think about what the thing beneath your feet might do if you screw up. “You tricked it into a part of your mind you clocked slow—a subjective second every million years, say. Must have used half the necromantic earths in Northern Kath to build this place. Impressive systems redundancy: any elements taken from the mountain will return in time. So millennia passed, until Kovak Central Mining started drilling.”

An elemental tore Oss’s wing free, only for the wing to transform to a bony claw that strangled the fire.

Ignore the battle. Focus on the—what was she at this point? Deponent? Witness? If so, Tara should be asking more questions.

Torment/tear/efficiency/reduced/lose/seconds-on-century/

“The mine damaged containment. You patched the wound by draining a convenient power source, which turned out to belong to the miners’ filtration system. Necromantic slurry seeped into the water table, and zombies rose throughout Centervale. You didn’t know what was happening—without human worshippers, your mind operates on a geologic time scale. So when Mr. Altemoc came to rescue his people, and used his scars to engage with you, well, you found a well-prepared mind to work through. He’s fighting back, though. You can’t think fast without him, but you can’t digest him any more than you can digest a knife.”

He/feels/no/pain/visions-dreams-past-paradise/offer/

“Let me be straight with you. You face a damages claim from Centervale Conglomerated Agriculture, another from KCMC, reckless endangerment and grievous harm from my employer, maybe tortious interference, a violation of the rule against perpetuities depending on whether you’re technically alive, and that’s before we address any personal claims brought by Mr. Altemoc, or by these folks on the ground.” The Keeper was older than the Craft. How to translate? “The kind of power about to descend on you, it eats gods for breakfast. Neither of us wants to go down that road.” Especially since your hole card’s terrifying. “But we can make a deal.”

Explain/

“Your containment system is, let’s say.” She licked her lips. Oss tried to bite through an elemental’s face but only blackened its own jaw. “Inefficient. We’ve developed better. We know more about demons now than they did in your day—we might be able to put the devourer-of-worlds down there back where she came from. Even if that’s impossible, the redundant ore you can spare by improving your efficiency will fetch a lot of soulstuff on the right market, and we could use that power to automate containment. You could walk the world again. Find believers. Or at least live without a demon gnawing your entrails.”