Enzo stepped into a surreal scene.

The floor was slick with blood and bile and intestinal fluids. Corpses were strewn about. One of them lay upon a workbench next to a rune-chiseled hammer and a bright emerald flame — a forge of some kind. The torso was severed at the stomach; bloody entrails poured out like red worms.

On one wall was a rack filled with stoppered vials, carefully arranged by color. Below them, brains floated in jars of amber liquid.

The room was no treasure chamber. It was apparently a laboratory of some sort — though to what twisted demonic purpose Enzo could not fathom.

A gleaming blue portal lay not ten paces away, but between him and it there stood a man. A man Enzo recognized.

“You…”

“Me. Viraj. The humble scout for Skyborn University.” He looked different than Enzo remembered. His fingers were elongated, his skin pallid, his eyes all black. Vaguely nonhuman. His was the voice that had been speaking directly to their minds.

“You’re no scout. Who are you really?”

“Oh, how very astute. You’re quite perceptive, Enzo. I’ve watched your progress from afar with great interest — and great admiration. But have you cracked my final enigma? Do you know where you are? Think.”

“Not Ilhen’s Seventh.”

“No,” he said with a small smirk. “Ilhen’s Seventh was merely a trail of clues leading to a key and a locked door. My dear brother did try to warn you — what was sought has been found.”

Brother? “Who are you?” Enzo repeated, this time more forcefully.

“Come. I want to show you something.”

Enzo did not move an inch.

“Your apprehension is understandable. You survived a great deal, and paid a dear price. But here you are safe.”

“What about Gianna? There was a shadow… She…” He could scarcely say the words. “Where is she?”

“Gone. To perish in my abode is a grisly fate indeed. She is now trapped in a timeless void, languishing, unaging. Entirely lucid and aware of her predicament. Feeling pain but no pleasure, and lacking even the hope for the sweet release of death. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless I intervene. I could do that for you. Come.”

Enzo complied, albeit reluctantly. He followed the man down a narrow passage that reeked of sulfur, stepping carefully around strewn corpses. Though Viraj held no light, the shadows seemed to recede at his approach. They came to an adjoining room, a small space perhaps ten feet square. On its far wall was a cairn of skulls ringed by votive candles, many of them unlit or holding only a feeble light.

“Do you know what this is?”

Enzo shook his head.

“A wilted shrine, long neglected. A travesty. But one that can be undone.” He turned to Enzo. “This is not Ilhen’s Seventh, as you surmised. It is an attunement spire, and I am Viraj, the Visage of Muerte, the God of Puzzles, of Traps… and of Necromancy.”

Death magic. Enzo recalled that Cosimo had mentioned there was rumored to be a secret attunement spire in Corinth.

“The art was embraced by the Diji but shunned by Corinth and the Paladis Empire, and for centuries they have labored to conceal the existence of this spire, while others endeavor to find it. Necromancy is a powerful magic; a few skilled necromancers could raise a massive army — one that requires neither rest nor sustenance. A powerful advantage.”

“One that could tilt the balance of power…”

“But I don't need a few necromancers to tilt the balance of power. I need but one. One, to be my envoy. One, to proclaim to the world the location of my spire, which would then precipitate a war with the Paladis Empire — that, or Paladis would buckle under the pressure and admit entrants into my spire. Either way, the cult of Muerte would grow.”

Enzo recalled how the gods of magic — the children of Bael — were strengthened when their cults grew. And while many secret attunement spires were postulated to exist, none had ever been exposed. The Paladis Empire’s relations with Arkimides and Veda and other states were already frayed and tenuous; the exposure of a secret attunement spire would certainly provoke war. But one thing did not make sense to Enzo.

“Why would the Empire hide it? Why not exploit it to their advantage?”

“Because they fear what they do not understand. And they fear that if they dabble secretly in necromancy, their secret will be exposed. You cannot induct hundreds or thousands of mages into the cult of Muerte and expect it to remain a state secret. They chose not to partake the risk, and hired Ilhen to erect a door guarding the entrance to the spire. He crafted a trail of clues to leading to its key — in case they ever changed their mind. I labored tirelessly over decades, assuming various disguises, to uncover the clue for Ilhen’s trail. I found it deep within the Ducal Palace.”

“And the Black Cabal… their symbol…”

“Cheerfully stolen from the Diji. It is curious how languages and symbols evolve and get shared, is it not? The Black Cabal appropriated a Diji glyph and crafted a myth that the Opticon, as they call it, is in fact their base of operations. It’s all a baseless lie.”

Enzo’s mind was elsewhere.

“Why do you even need an envoy? Why not just travel to Veda and Arkimides and Edmeer and tell them directly about this spire?”

Viraj smirked. “You should know the answer to that already. To intervene in the affairs of mortals is forbidden by sacred decree, a sworn commitment among the gods. You see, Bael rules the Ice Court with an iron fist… Though his days are numbered. The Oracle made a prophecy, that the Son will one day uproot the Father and cast him down to the netherworld for all eternity. Bael fears his son Muerte. He keeps him weak. He exerts influence on the Paladisians to keep his spire hidden so that his cult remains small. You see Enzo, you and I have an opportunity not just to tilt the balance of power here, among mortals, but among immortals. Among the gods. Come.”

Viraj curled a finger, beckoning Enzo to follow. Enzo felt he had no choice but to comply.

They followed another snaking, twisting passage, dismembered body parts squelching underfoot, and arrived in another cramped room. This one was lined with shelves containing various urns. In the center of the room a headsman’s axe leaned against a chopping block.

He felt an icy bead of sweat trickle down his back.

“This is how you will induct me into your cult… by first killing me.”

“Do not fear, Enzo. Death is merely a transition, and your service shall earn you the undying gratitude of Muerte, soon to be the god of gods. But to become a necromancer, first you must first pass through the veil itself — and come back. You will return reborn as an anointed servant of Muerte, serving under my command.”

Enzo glanced around, trying to seem casual and discreet. He could see the room which he’d first entered, and the portal.

“Why should I do that? Why should I help you?”

“Because you're in my spire.”

“Under false pretenses.”

“You seem to be laboring under the delusion I am framing a choice for you. Enzo, I want your cooperation, but I do not require it. Come — kneel. The blade through your neck will be but a momentary pang.”

Enzo still had one scroll in his quiver — Lightning Bolt. Would it be enough? Could he even draw it fast enough? Would a meager spell scroll have even the slightest effect on a demigod? It did not matter; he lacked for better options.

In a flash, he reached for the lambskin quiver holding his final scroll.

His hand had not even lifted an inch before Viraj raised a hand, immobilizing him. “You are far too slow and weak to antagonize a visage, Enzo d’Verona. Now kneel!”

Vines rose up from the floor, lashing his feet and hands and neck, forcing him down. They were barbed and tipped with venom; their stings pricked him, and he felt a warm, numbing sensation spreading through his body.

“Rest easy, Enzo. When you pass the veil, you will meet those you have lost, once again and then nevermore. Cosimo, Gianna… Leonardo.”

“I’m right here, motherfucker,” said a cold voice, and then Leo’s sword Whisper plunged into Viraj’s back and through his chest. Viraj gasped, sapphire-blue light exploding from the wound Leo had dealt him, the light blindingly bright. Viraj shrieked in rage with such volume that the room quaked with seismic force.

The vines released Enzo, and he seized the moment, grabbing Leo. The two stumbled forward.

“Come on!” Together they darted for the blue portal. Enzo’s vision was going blurry; the poison was coursing through his veins and taking hold of him, sapping his strength.

Enzo leapt through the portal just before he passed out.

The Black Cabal was awaiting them on the other side.