The body lay motionless on the stone slab, his skin pale and taut, stretched over thin muscle.
No breath stirred his chest. No twitch of a finger, no flutter of an eyelid. He was empty now—a hollow vessel.
But the body was still alive—physically, at least.
Unlike blood vessels, which shriveled and decayed after death, magic pathways persisted for a short time, slowly breaking down unless preserved.
Regardless, it would still be destroyed after a certain period. That's why the Redthorn used a living person to do it—they would have more breathing room.
Time was of the essence.
Asher stood straight, fingers hovering inches above Leno's chest, his hands steady with energy.
A faint, crackling heat coiled around his fingertips, bending the air in restless waves.
It pulsed, distorting the space around it.
'I'll start with the core.'
He exhaled slowly, pressing his palm against it.
