The shockwave I generated slammed into Malachi's three followers, throwing them against the concrete walls of the nearby building until they cracked. Their masks shattered, revealing pale, vacant faces, devoid of emotion, nothing more than raw transmission channels flickering with purple light. Kael collapsed, coughing as he fought for air and yanked a dagger from the thigh of one of his attackers.
"They don't feel pain," Kael hissed, his eyes flashing with fury. "These aren't people, Elian. They're biological drones."
"It's worse than that," I replied, approaching him. "They're Malachi's 'art.' He didn't build an empire from scratch. He's hijacking the remnants of consciousness scattered after the cathedral's collapse."
I stared back at the anonymous message on my phone. Find the nest
