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The questions that the fake had asked him had mostly been about whether the Rainlord elders had gotten the message, if they'd agreed to the plan, if they needed more prep time--that sort of thing. And without being able to move his head, Raul had only been able to use his eyes to answer. Up and down for yes, side to side for no. And on top of all that, the imposter had to be careful not to be seen spending too much time next to Raul, too, which was why much of the questioning had been conducted while "Croll" wasn't even in the same room.

How, exactly, the imposter had been able to discern Raul's answers when he wasn't even looking at him... well, that was just another layer to the mystery.

But there'd been one string of questions that proved somewhat telling. The elders had proved understandably reticent to trust this random stranger who'd appeared seemingly from nowhere, saying all the right things--and sounding a bit too good to be true, honestly.

And after a while, the imposter began to pick up on their trepidation, which led to an interesting exchange.

'Tell Darktide that he should "grip the torch with both hands."'

And when Raul relayed the stranger's message, Melchor Blackburn had wanted to know how the man knew what his father used to say to him when he was young.

'Bernardino Blackburn was a good friend of mine, once upon a time. Please trust that I bear you and your kin no ill will. When all of this is over, if we are still alive, I promise that I will tell you my name.'

That had certainly gotten the gears turning in Raul's head. If the guy really did have old, friendly ties with House Blackburn, then it was quite strange for him to not just drop his name straight away and earn their trust immediately.

But then again, if the mission went pear-shaped, the guy could've been worried about his identity being leaked to Abolish by newly captured Rainlords. Such as Raul, for example.

And then there was that name.

Melchor's father, Bernardino Blackburn. Raul had heard it many times before. It was an important one in regard to the history of their House--and beyond.

Lord Bernardino--or Granpa Dino, as Raul had heard others call him--had been the head of House Blackburn before Lord Ismael took over. Moreover, he'd been an internationally famous warrior.

In the Vanguard, no less.

Page 3301 -- CCLXXVIII.

Behind.

Vanderberk could sense it himself now. Yes. The Inferno was afraid, but it knew something was there. Instead of pursuing on its own, it was giving its knowledge to him. Its extra senses.

What were these? Vanderberk couldn't have described them, even if he'd had the presence of mind to do so. This had never happened before.

Didn't matter, though. He knew enough.

He attacked. And learned more.


Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-Eight: 'Coddled sprout, be uprooted...'
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Raul sprinted across the surface of the river, not wanting to look back but knowing that he had to. Vanderberk seemed to have finally forgotten about him, but that hadn't improved his circumstances nearly as much as Raul might've hoped.

Whatever the hell was happening in this fight right now made absolutely no sense to him. His eyes could scarcely even comprehend what he was looking at. What were those hellish abominations flying around all over the place? Evil spirits? Literal demons? And the crystal monsters? What were those? Golems? Angels?

Nothing made sense.

But then, he'd been warned about this. By "Croll," no less.

When Thaddeus Croll had first shown up at Logden, Raul had thought it anything but good. But that began to change when the man started speaking to him telepathically.

'Listen to me, young Rainlord. I am not Thaddeus Croll. This is a disguise to fool Vanderberk. You do not know me, but I am your ally. Here is my plan. Convey it to your kin for me.'

And over the next day, the fake Croll fed him information. Raul hadn't exactly enjoyed getting his windpipe crushed or his fingers broken, but he didn't get much choice in the matter. He would've certainly been willing to feed Vanderberk lies, but perhaps the imposter hadn't wanted to risk relying on him for that.

It had been a bold plan, though.

To isolate Vanderberk and kill him. Meanwhile, the Rainlords were supposed to sneak into the prison again and finally rescue everyone.

There would still be plenty of Abolish fighters back at Logden, of course, but with Vanderberk busy and the element of surprise on their side, it seemed doable.

Raul would've liked to ask the fake any number of different questions, but the crushed windpipe had occurred too soon into the encounter for that. No doubt, the imposter feared him saying something stupid.

He had gotten a few answers, though.

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Vanderberk didn't wait to see what they were going to do. He increased the pressure on his helium coatings--as intense as he could muster.

Their crystalline bodies imploded and turned to dust, all of them at once.

That was one problem taken care of, at least, but Vanderberk was still unsettled. He didn't know how they had transformed. If the Devourers could be turned against each other like that, then his entire strategy here--

Another beam of light interrupted his train of thought, catching another group of Devourers and beginning the same process again.

No. Not the same, he soon realized.

Instead of each Devourer changing individually, their collective glow coalesced into one massive, winged creature.

A humongous avian monster of radiant crystal.

Vanderberk didn't hesitate to attack again, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't help hanging on the fact that they were turning to crystal.

Why crystal? Why? It couldn't be--no, if it was, then--

This couldn't be the work of the Crystal Titan, could it? Vanderberk didn't have the luxury of thinking it through. His instinct was telling him no. Sermung hadn't been seen at all during this war, so why would he show up here, of all places?

No, no, no. NO. It had to be a trick. The enemy was a powerful psychic. Playing mind games. Trying to get to him. Make him panic.

This damn crystal bird was resisting the coatings. He couldn't seal its movements. Freezing wasn't accomplishing much, either, other than making it slightly more brittle, perhaps.

He shot an invisible pillar of pressurized helium at it. And somehow, the fucking bird almost dodged it. Instead, it took the hit on the wing, which exploded on impact, sending crystal shards raining over the entire area.

A solid white beam erupted from its beak and eyes, coming straight for him.

He couldn't avoid it in time. Even in his gaseous form, it hit him clean, right in his invisible torso, sending him down and down, pummeling him into the ground.

His gaseous form flickered, and he scowled as he sat up. He paid no attention to the gigantic crater of vaporized rock and dirt around him. He was only concerned about the bird. Where had it gone? It was so huge and obnoxiously bright. How could it have disappeared?

Unless--could it have been an illusion, too? Agh, of course it could have. But the Devourers. They were real. The Inferno. What was it telling him? He needed to listen.