The miasma wasn't stopping.

  Despite everything — the sages, the combined magic, the sheer amount of power being thrown at it — the dark tide kept coming, pressing closer to the glowstone wall that lined the edge of the old capital. Ancient barrier. Reinforced with scarlet ore, a mineral that absorbed and amplified sunlight.

  Wait. Is that literally Minecraft? And the scarlet ore is definitely from that demon slayer thing—

  Is this even allowed?

  "Arise, my mechanical pantheon!"

  Mechanus threw his arms wide. His mechanical army responded — constructs built from the same glowstone-scarlet materials as the wall, each one sealed with intricate magic arrays. Around us, the fortress itself began to groan and shift, stone grinding against stone as something massive woke up.

  "Awaken — the last line of defense of this capital. CONSTRUCT!"

  The castle gates tore apart. Reassembled. Reformed into something that had no business being as large as it was — a colossal war machine that Mechanus, with the pride of a man who'd been waiting a thousand years to show this off, called Colossus Prime.

  It was enormous. Polished enchanted armor, layered defensive plating, mobile and somehow precise despite being the size of a small mountain. The ground cracked under every step. It waded into the horde of dark spawns and started flatteningthem.

  From its interior, golems poured out — small, fast, deploying on land and launching into the air on hidden jet boosters, scattering grenades that detonated in bursts of holy light. Clusters of dark spawns dissolved on contact.

  I watched all of this with my arms still crossed.

  Okay. He's been sitting on that for a thousand years. Fair enough.

  But even Colossus Prime wasn't enough. More creatures kept manifesting from the fog, claws raking against the glowstone walls, slowly working through it. The tide wasn't stopping.

  "Josephine."

  Angelus appeared at my side, staff already glowing. "I need your help. We're going to reinforce the barrier. A holy enchantment — it'll buy us time."

  "I already cast [Sanctuary] earlier," I said, frowning. "It barely made a dent."

  "Because [Sanctuary] runs on intention, not just power." He extended his hand. "Your magic has to resonate with purpose or it won't reach its full potential."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I looked at his hand. Then took it.

  His grip was steady — warm in a way that didn't feel human, more like something that had been holding itself together for a very long time and had gotten good at it. His energy was nothing like mine. Focused. Deliberate. A complete contrast to whatever I usually did, which was apparently just throw power at things and hope.

  "Think about what you want to protect," he said quietly. "Not abstractly. Specifically. Every soul behind these walls."

  I closed my eyes.

  I thought about the city. The people who'd lived here before the miasma took it. The ones still trapped as dark spawns even now. I thought about Jane and Peter asleep on the throne. About Trynda, insufferable and soft. About a woman named Josephine von Konrow who'd spent her whole life trying to make something matter to someone.

  [Sanctuary.]

  The golden light that formed between our joined hands was different from before. Brighter. Steadier. It expanded outward in a vast magic circle, cutting through the miasma like the thing had never been invited here.

  The dark spawns faltered. Their forms flickered, weakening against the barrier.

  "It's holding!" Amarok called from the wall — she'd been layering defensive runes across the glowstone this entire time, barely pausing to breathe. "But not for long! The rift has expanded. If it keeps growing it'll tear the capital apart!"

  I looked toward the palace.

  She was right. The rift was visible now — a jagged wound in reality above the inner district, casting a dark pillar straight up into the sky like a beacon. The miasma was pouring from it faster than before, and the creatures coming through were larger. Different. The golems were starting to buckle.

  Colossus Prime was still fighting, massive fists slamming into the horde, but there was too much of it. For every dozen it cleared, two dozen more came through.

  Angelus turned to me again. His face was drawn. Whatever reserves he'd been running on were nearly spent. "One more thing. If we channel a blessing through Colossus Prime — through all of them — it'll fortify the constructs enough to hold while we deal with the rift."

  I stared at him. "You want me to bless a bunch of machines."

  "I want you to bless what they're protecting," he said.

  ...Fine. That was a good answer.

  I crossed to the nearest construct and pressed my palm against its side. Cold metal under my hand. I pushed holy energy into it — not explosive, not the Galaxy Impact kind, just a steady pour. Deliberate. Like Angelus had shown me.

  The golem glowed.

  Then the next one. Then the next. One by one down the line, each construct lighting up gold, movements sharpening, attacks suddenly carrying holy fire that seared through dark spawns on contact. They pushed back with a ferocity that hadn't been there before, holding the line with something that almost looked like will.

  Almost.

  Because the rift was still there. Still widening. The dark pillar above the palace was twisting reality around it now, the air near it visibly warping, and the creatures coming through were starting to dwarf everything we'd already dealt with.

  "Even with this," I said, watching it, "we can't hold forever. That thing is beyond anything we've faced here."

  Angelus was quiet for a moment. "Then we close it. Or stabilize it enough to contain it. We've bought time — we have to use it."

  I looked at the rift.

  Thought about everything that had led to this. Almodey's thousand-year vigil. Ashkart giving his life for a seal that was now broken. Four sages whose souls had been locked to a ruined city for wanting — in the most catastrophically misjudged way possible — to help people.

  All of this.

  For a damn mask.