Book of the Vishanti

Deep in the Himalayas stood Kamar-Taj.

On the square before the main hall, twelve mages in orange robes held spell circles in their hands, their runes gleaming gold. They were the sanctuary's finest guards, each with over thirty years of training.

But now, every face was tense.

Three minutes earlier, a golden rift had appeared above the sanctuary and torn straight through Kamar-Taj's defensive barrier.

Chu Hang's clone had stepped out of the rift and hovered in midair, looking down.

He said nothing. He only glanced at them.

All twelve mages froze at once.

They could not move. The spell circles in their hands still glowed, and their lips remained poised mid-incantation.

Pure mental suppression.

The clone's mental power bore down on their minds like a mountain. Against pressure of this magnitude, the mental defenses these mages took such pride in meant nothing.

He floated over their heads and headed deeper into the sanctuary.

His destination was clear—the Forbidden Library, seventh floor, the innermost chamber.

The information he had dug out of Mordo's mind told him every turn.

He passed through the main hall and the corridors, then through door after door covered in runes. Their defensive arrays lit up, trying to stop the intruder.

But before they could activate, his mental power snuffed them out.

He had not broken them. He had frightened them into going dark.

A smile tugged at the clone's lips.

This universe's magic system was advanced, certainly, but only up to a point. Before true power, even the most intricate array was decoration.

He descended the stairs to the seventh floor and stopped before a massive stone door.

Complex runes carved into it gave off a faint white light.

The mark of the Vishanti.

A rush of wind sounded behind him.

Baron Mordo had arrived.