Still, the Soul Devourer had once been a giant on level nine. After ten millennia as a disembodied mind, his command of soul arts was peerless, and this remnant had been crafted as his last, most vicious safeguard.
Even with Jared's reflexes-sharp as drawn steel-several stray soul threads still slipped through his mental net. They were the light ones, wisps that held nothing but noise and harmless memories, scattering like ash across the air.
The principal shard of the Soul Devourer's consciousness detonated on itself, vanishing in a grit of psychic dust and taking most vital memories with it.
Jared flooded the ruin with his own spiritual sense, stooping, in a sense, to sift the debris. Each broken image he caught was held, studied, then filed away before it could fade.
What he saw was a clutter of information, minor cruelties inside Skyfiend Sect, schemes the dead lord had dangled before Elder Bonewick like poisoned bait.
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