I ventured further into the palace. The lack of guards became more and more unsettling.
Was this a trap?
I heard a manly scream echoing off the stone walls. Then the tearing of limbs, and the horrible, sickening squirt of blood.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust, and carried on in a stealthy manner. There was no way I was letting that happen to me.
Suddenly a man was flung from one of the parapets, and he crashed at my feet. By some miracle he was still alive, yet only just. He groaned, and slowly lifted his head. His left cheek was covered in blood, and many of the teeth in the left side of his mouth had cracked. He looked truly disgusting, but could be of use to me.
Lifting one gun from my holster, I began to question him.
"Who did this to you?"
"Y...you wouldn't believe me..."
His lack of teeth made it difficult for him to speak.
"How did you..."
"I have my ways. Why did they do this?"
"No one must...know. The t...time. Is here."
"Make sense now or I swear to God I'll shoot." Perhaps a little harsh, but I needed answers.
"The time of the Undying Twelve. The world...will be theirs."
"Dear God...are they holding a ceremony?"
"At the sev...seventh hour."
It all made sense. My time was running out. I heard a laugh from the parapets.
"Lara Croft. Do you ever know when it's time to stop?"
That voice. It was familiar, and Russian. In that moment the realisation sickened me.
I'd forgotten about that blasted healing chant.