Chapter 722: Imprisoned in a dying world

Albert turned toward him.

"I did."

The old man’s brows drew together.

"And you saw no reason to inform us before doing so?"

"There was nothing to be gained by attacking them there."

"Nothing to be gained?" His beard stirred as he scoffed. "We agreed that those people could not be allowed to interfere, and we need them all dead. Yet, you invited them into your home, fed them, and sent them on their way."

"He heard you the first time."

The interruption came from the woman hovering on Albert’s other side.

Her dark green hair fell in lustrous waves down her back, shifting gently in the breeze.

She possessed a voluptuous figure and a soft, motherly face, though the displeasure gathering in her eyes gave little indication that she intended to offer the old man any kindness.

A silky black robe draped around her body, its loose neckline and flowing folds leaving considerably more skin exposed than the elder considered respectable.

"Albert is young," she continued. "He makes mistakes. That hardly gives you a reason to peck at him like an ill-tempered crow."

The old man’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Young enough to be excused whenever he ignores our agreement?"

"Old enough to have made more progress toward freeing our people than you have in all the years you spent complaining."

Albert remained quiet.

The elderly Saint gave her a sharp look, which she returned without the slightest hint of fear.

"I was attempting to make him understand the consequences."

"And I am reminding you that he is the hope of our people," she replied. "You could try speaking to him accordingly."

"Hope is of little use if he keeps sparing the people standing in our way."

"Neither is frightening everyone around you into silence."

The old man drew a breath, preparing another retort, but a distant trumpet from one of the elephants interrupted him.

Below, a wagon had become lodged between two stones, and the procession slowed as several people hurried forward to free it.

All three Saints looked down.

They watched the struggling figures beneath them, and the irritation between the two elders gradually subsided.

Whatever grievances they held with one another seemed much smaller beneath the weight of that immense gathering.

The woman’s expression grew solemn.

She looked from the old man to Albert, her warmth fading as she finally voiced the question that had been troubling her.

"Are we certain that, as long as we kill all the outsiders, the chains binding us to this place will finally be undone?"

Her gaze settled upon Albert.

"And we will truly be allowed to leave?"

Albert nodded, though his gaze remained upon the procession below for a moment longer.

An enormous serpent was drawing alongside a line of stalled wagons, its riders lowering ropes to secure the cargo that had begun to slip from one of them.

"When I looked beyond the boundary, I saw more than the outside world," he said at last.

The two elders turned their attention toward him. They had heard parts of his account before, but neither interrupted as he continued.

"At first, there was only darkness and twisted space. Every attempt to look farther met the same resistance, as though the boundary itself was trying to force my senses back."

His expression grew distant as he recalled that tenebrous expanse.

Even now, he could remember the strain of maintaining his magic against the turbulence, along with the terrible feeling that a single mistake would leave him scattered somewhere beyond the reach of either world.

"But eventually, I saw something. A vision, or perhaps an impression left within the boundary itself. I cannot say which; time and space are elusive concepts after all, even to me. That was how I came to understand the laws keeping us here."

The old man folded his arms, his dirty sleeves gathering around his wrists.

"And those laws demand lives."

"Yes."

Albert looked toward him, making no attempt to make the answer any less murderous.

"This world is dying. We already know that. The broken landmasses, the unstable regions, the places where nothing grows anymore... We have lived with the signs for generations."

Below them, a child laughed as one of the enormous flying beasts passed overhead, reaching upward from the shelter of a wagon. Albert watched the small figure until the awning concealed it again.

"We can abandon our settlements and find better land for a while, but eventually, there will be nowhere left to go. Leaving is the only way to ensure our people survive."

"Provided the boundary allows us through," the woman said.

"It won’t. Not as we are." Albert raised a hand slightly, looking at his own fingers. "Everything born within this world bears its native origin. Our bodies, our souls, even the power we have accumulated. We belong to it, and its laws will not simply allow us to leave."

The woman’s brows drew together.

"Then how does killing the outsiders change that?"

"The law of equivalent exchange."

Albert clenched his hand, lowered it, and turned fully toward them.

"The world cannot allow a native existence to cross its boundaries unless something from outside takes its place. And it cannot be an object, no matter how valuable. The exchange requires a living soul."

A brief silence followed. Beneath them, the multitude continued its slow passage through the valley, unaware of the conversation taking place above their heads.

"Every ten thousand years, our prison partially opens its boundaries, somewhat weakening the chains binding us, for a time," Albert continued. "Outsiders enter in search of inheritances, treasures, and opportunities. To them, it is a chance to obtain something they could never find at home."

"And to us," the elderly man murmured, "it is a chance to escape."

Albert nodded.

"The moment an outsider enters, the world’s laws temporarily recognize their existence. Otherwise, they would never be able to remain here at all. But their souls retain a connection to the world they came from."

"The connection that takes them home," the woman said thoughtfully.

"Yes. When their allotted time expires, they are expelled. They do not need to find their way back through the boundary, because that connection remains. Death changes that. If an outsider dies here, their connection to the outside can be severed. Their soul can then be temporarily captured by this world’s laws."

The old man stroked his unkempt beard in concentration

"And that is what the altar is for."

"The ritual," Albert confirmed. "At the altar we are traveling toward, we can offer those captured souls as substitutes. An outsider’s soul takes the place of a native inhabitant, satisfying the exchange and allowing that person to cross the boundary without being rejected."

The woman looked down upon the procession. From this height, the people seemed almost innumerable.

"And once the exchange is complete," she said quietly, "the chains will no longer hold them."

"That is what I saw," Albert replied. "There is a way through. We simply have to meet the conditions."

The elderly Saint remained silent for several moments. Then his gaze moved from Albert to the endless ranks stretching across the valley, and a deep frown settled upon his face.

"Wait."

Albert looked toward him.

"One outsider’s soul for one of our people?"

"Yes, or at least, something like that..."

The old man’s expression darkened.

"Then we do not have nearly enough outsiders to get everyone out, do we?"

He gestured toward the immense procession beneath them, his loose sleeve snapping in the wind.

"And you even allowed some of them to get away." A harsh scoff escaped him as he turned back toward Albert. "Perhaps you would care to explain that part. I don’t believe you are so foolish that you would overlook such a big loophole in your ’grand’ plan."