The vows still echoed around the Gate of Heaven, yet Jared no longer savored the triumph. The Soul Devourer remained a poisoned thorn, leave it buried, and the infection would one day rot the empire he had only just forged.
So he ceded every administrative burden to trusted lieutenants, stationed a legion of Draconians to guard the newborn sect, then departed with Coall, Cyanna, and three hundred elite Draconian warriors. Their destination was the fabled Nether Blood Sea.
The Nether Blood Sea lay at the far-western rim of the Ninefold Heaven, a ragged scar where, legends claimed, ancient gods and demons had once torn each other apart.
Long before the expedition glimpsed its shores, a stench like carrion-soaked iron clawed down their throats. An icy dread, aimed straight at the soul, rode on every gust.
On the horizon, sky and earth appeared swallowed by an endless smear of dark crimson. It was no sunset, it was an ocean brewed from the mingled blood of a million fallen deities and beasts.
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