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necromantic sciences draw their power from death, from the consumption of life. Just as burning coal produces light and heat, so also does the destruction of life produce necromantic power. Observe.”
    He turned towards Caina, a glittering dagger in his hand. 
    Caina shrieked and fought the restraints, her wrist and ankles scraping against the steel. Maglarion cut open the bottom of her shirt, revealing her stomach. 
    “And blood,” said Maglarion, “is the foundation of necromancy.”
    He drew the tip of the dagger across Caina’s stomach, slicing the skin and opening a long cut below her navel. 
    Caina screamed into her gag, but the shackles held her fast.
    “Come now,” said Maglarion, digging the dagger deeper, hot blood welling over her chilled skin. “I wouldn’t thrash about. You will only do further damage to yourself.” 
    A chuckle went through the magi.
    It hurt worse than anything she had ever known. Caina lay trembling and helpless, sobbing into the gag, as Maglarion sawed the dagger back and forth. Finally he grunted in satisfaction and produced a small silver cup, its sides black with age and tarnish. As her blood drained into grooves on the metal table, he held the cup below it, catching the crimson droplets. 
    “Observe,” he said, lifting up the cup. “A virgin’s blood. It can be used for a variety of useful necromantic applications, but the most potent is that of a bloodcrystal.” 
    He whispered an incantation, green flames snarling and crackling around his fingertips. Again emerald light flickered beneath his eye patch. Caina felt a sudden sharp tingle, in addition to the pain, and for a moment her stomach clenched with nausea.
    That only made the gash on her stomach hurt worse. 
    Then the green fire faded, and Maglarion reached into the cup.
    “Behold,” he said, holding out his hand. “A bloodcrystal.”
    A black gem perhaps the size of Caina’s thumb rested in his hand. It was the exact color of dried blood, yet looked as hard and as sharp as obsidian. 
    “It stores the force, the raw life energy, that was latent in her blood,” said Maglarion, gazing into the crystal’s black depths. 
    “Fascinating,” said another of the magi. “So the power can be stored for later use?”
    “Yes,” said Maglarion. He paused for a moment, as if just remembering something, and tucked the bloodcrystal away in a pocket of his coat. “Any blood can be used, of course, but the best results are obtained from the blood of a virgin.”
    “Then you’d best make as many as you can now,” said Kylan. “The way the child is bleeding, you won’t have the opportunity.”
    Caina sagged against the cold metal table, the room spinning around her. Her emotions numbed, and so did her pain. She was going to bleed to death, she realized. That thought did not trouble her. 
    At least she would be free of this place, and these men.
    Maglarion chuckled. “Not yet. I still have a use for her, you see.”
    He made a slashing motion, and again green flame erupted around his hand. He dragged his glowing fingers across Caina’s wound, and fresh pain exploded through her, worse than before. She screamed again, and Maglarion’s hand burned like ice against her skin. 
    Then the pain faded, leaving only numbness. The cut on her stomach had vanished, leaving a ugly crimson scar. 
    “Necromantic power can also be used to heal,” said Maglarion. He ran a finger along the new-made scar. “Though the experience is often…unpleasant.” 
    “Why not simply kill her outright, and use all her blood at once?” asked another magus.
    “No need to be wasteful,” said Maglarion, flexing his fingers. “With proper care, we can continue to bleed her for several months yet. Once she has her first menstrual cycle, then I’ll kill her. The womb of a virgin contains tremendous potential for necromantic energy. Think of all the children that might have grown there, the lives that might have begun within her…then