manipulations at the hands of the Ebon Kingdoms. Quinn had willingly sold his body to the vampires so he could be augmented, made “more than human” in exchange for vital information they’d use to crush the resistance.
Cold scaled against Shiv’s skin, and it was all Ruiz could do to raise his own spirit in time to shield her. Soiled soul energy lashed against them in tendrils of ice and grease. His spirit’s whispers sliced through her mind like insane chattering. Shiv saw her, and the image of that emaciated and burned out soul was saddening. Once she’d been powerful, but now she was little more than another pestilent ghost.
Ruiz shouted out in pain. Quinn’s thaumaturgic augmentations made his spirit powerful, and even with Shiv’s aid the warlock’s shields wouldn’t hold for very long. The air was bitter cold and tasted rancid, and hard driving wind pushed away from the crazed warlock like a sour gale. Shiv felt death in the air. Soul magic had been used to craft Quinn’s metal arms, and the effect those soul-bending enchantments had on his spirit rendered her entirely monstrous, no longer a creature of feeling or thought but a roaming ghast of hatred and remorse, a bitter and empty being whose sole purpose was to punish the living for being what she wasn’t.
Shiv found the spirit’s core, the dripping tendrils of ectoplasm and spectral veins that dangled like ganglia. They were caustic and slick, difficult to grab without doing some harm to one or the other, but Shiv concentrated, pushed Ruiz’s spirit to its limits (she hated doing that without warning him, for the strain was incredible, and she felt his pain and fear as his body rippled with hurt, but she had no choice) and cleaved her mind to the unstable dimensions of Quinn’s tortured ghost. The Ebon Kingdom’s technology made the effort difficult, for both spirits sparked and folded against her like sheets of bladed iron. Pain lanced down her chest and nausea welled in her stomach.
Grabbing hold of another’s spirit and manipulating it against their host’s will was a violation, a forceful entry. Shiv held it akin to rape, and hated herself for doing it, hated that it was one of her most powerful abilities.
She screamed, and tightened her grip on Quinn’s spirit. His biomechanical enhancements made it difficult to grab her cleanly, to achieve any sort of true cohesion that didn’t involve crushing her, or him. The necrotic conduits fought back, charged the air with defensive currents. Blood seeped from Shiv’s nose, but she fought through the pain and dizziness and breathed deep, took hold of that energy and convinced herself it didn’t matter if she hurt the spirit or not.
Quinn’s eyes bulged as he realized what was happening. His spirit cleaved to his soul, bound there by unnatural bio-genetic wiring. She turned against him, grew suddenly unstable as weylines of arcane energies burned back through the air like streams of fuel put to the flame, and the very safeguards and twisted thaumaturgy that had made it so he could manipulate and twist his spirit were the very thing that prevented him from being able to pull away. She was bonded to him, a companion made his prisoner, a soul mate made his slave.
Shiv burned those energies and scorched the spirit’s being until she was nothing more than a mindless shred of what she’d been. Quinn had no escape. His screams echoed through the burned structure. The warlock’s skin blistered black and peeled away from his bones, exposing oozing hot muscle and scorched blood.
Within moments Quinn was quiet, and he lay there on the ground, a grotesque and smoking shell. His skin was charred, and his leather armor was fused to what was left of his body. His hair had burned away, his eyes popped, and his corpse was surrounded by a grim haze of vile smoke.
Ruiz and Gyver coughed and backed away, sickened by the sight. He’d been burned
Cold scaled against Shiv’s skin, and it was all Ruiz could do to raise his own spirit in time to shield her. Soiled soul energy lashed against them in tendrils of ice and grease. His spirit’s whispers sliced through her mind like insane chattering. Shiv saw her, and the image of that emaciated and burned out soul was saddening. Once she’d been powerful, but now she was little more than another pestilent ghost.
Ruiz shouted out in pain. Quinn’s thaumaturgic augmentations made his spirit powerful, and even with Shiv’s aid the warlock’s shields wouldn’t hold for very long. The air was bitter cold and tasted rancid, and hard driving wind pushed away from the crazed warlock like a sour gale. Shiv felt death in the air. Soul magic had been used to craft Quinn’s metal arms, and the effect those soul-bending enchantments had on his spirit rendered her entirely monstrous, no longer a creature of feeling or thought but a roaming ghast of hatred and remorse, a bitter and empty being whose sole purpose was to punish the living for being what she wasn’t.
Shiv found the spirit’s core, the dripping tendrils of ectoplasm and spectral veins that dangled like ganglia. They were caustic and slick, difficult to grab without doing some harm to one or the other, but Shiv concentrated, pushed Ruiz’s spirit to its limits (she hated doing that without warning him, for the strain was incredible, and she felt his pain and fear as his body rippled with hurt, but she had no choice) and cleaved her mind to the unstable dimensions of Quinn’s tortured ghost. The Ebon Kingdom’s technology made the effort difficult, for both spirits sparked and folded against her like sheets of bladed iron. Pain lanced down her chest and nausea welled in her stomach.
Grabbing hold of another’s spirit and manipulating it against their host’s will was a violation, a forceful entry. Shiv held it akin to rape, and hated herself for doing it, hated that it was one of her most powerful abilities.
She screamed, and tightened her grip on Quinn’s spirit. His biomechanical enhancements made it difficult to grab her cleanly, to achieve any sort of true cohesion that didn’t involve crushing her, or him. The necrotic conduits fought back, charged the air with defensive currents. Blood seeped from Shiv’s nose, but she fought through the pain and dizziness and breathed deep, took hold of that energy and convinced herself it didn’t matter if she hurt the spirit or not.
Quinn’s eyes bulged as he realized what was happening. His spirit cleaved to his soul, bound there by unnatural bio-genetic wiring. She turned against him, grew suddenly unstable as weylines of arcane energies burned back through the air like streams of fuel put to the flame, and the very safeguards and twisted thaumaturgy that had made it so he could manipulate and twist his spirit were the very thing that prevented him from being able to pull away. She was bonded to him, a companion made his prisoner, a soul mate made his slave.
Shiv burned those energies and scorched the spirit’s being until she was nothing more than a mindless shred of what she’d been. Quinn had no escape. His screams echoed through the burned structure. The warlock’s skin blistered black and peeled away from his bones, exposing oozing hot muscle and scorched blood.
Within moments Quinn was quiet, and he lay there on the ground, a grotesque and smoking shell. His skin was charred, and his leather armor was fused to what was left of his body. His hair had burned away, his eyes popped, and his corpse was surrounded by a grim haze of vile smoke.
Ruiz and Gyver coughed and backed away, sickened by the sight. He’d been burned
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