Several high-ranking cultists pushed through the crowd and charged toward the Altar.
"Oh dear, Jacob's still burning over there... and you're already in such a hurry to rebel."
Ririko turned her head, glanced at Tabitha, then took two steps back, looking ready to enjoy the show.
Tabitha's icy gaze fell on the people rushing onto the platform. Her right hand drew the coiled whip from her waist, and a flick of her wrist sent it tracing an arc of light.
The lash coiled around the neck of the first man to reach the platform.
She jerked her wrist downward. The whip tightened around his throat, and he stumbled forward two steps before his neck tilted sideways and he went still.
Tabitha pulled her whip back. The body collapsed at the edge of the Altar, a deep purple welt circling its neck.
The second and third men charged up almost simultaneously.
Tabitha turned sideways and lashed out backhanded. With a sharp crack through the air, two parallel streaks of blood burst across both men's chests.
Where the lash had passed, flesh peeled back and black robes tore open, beads of blood seeping from the wounds.
Both men clutched their chests and doubled over, never to rise again.
The Assembly Hall fell silent.
The whip had abruptly cut off the furious uproar.
The others who had been about to cause trouble saw what had happened to the first three and quietly pulled back, retreating into the crowd.
Tabitha reeled in her whip, wound it twice, and held it in her hand.
She looked at the terrified, silent crowd below with an expression as indifferent as if she had just swatted a fly.
"Anyone else unhappy?" Ririko asked the crowd.
No one answered. Some stared at the floor; others watched the embers on