Brigid watched as the demon spawns dissolved into black smoke, the remnants drawn into Cassian's hands. He had killed them.
Almost without thinking, she whispered a chant she had learned in the cult:"When a lord's child lies slain and blighted, its essence drifts, no longer free, to Lord Silias, womb of its sorcery. For from his shadowed breath they came, and to his endless night return the same."
It was a simple creed: when demon spawns died, they returned to their maker, Lord Silias, who had shaped them from his own body.
But now, watching Cassian take what should have gone to her god, the foundation of everything she believed began to fracture.
"Who is he?" she murmured, unable to reconcile what she was seeing. Cassian was holding what was meant to belong only to her great dark god, Silias.
When Cassian finished drawing in the last of the dark smoke, he settled back on the ground. Brigid stared at him, curiosity and disbelief crossing her face.
