[ Honestly, as soon as the other man started talking, Matt realized perhaps the most damning tell of all: they are both wearing identical white robes. Sure, the other guy fills his out better than Matt does, but that's immaterial. The point is that they are definitely, one hundred percent, about to get thrown into a volcano.

The feeling of realization is so sudden and complete that it almost feels good, despite its utterly depressing nature. Matt even manages a brief, damp brightening at the mention of magic. It's quick to fade--he's tried to cast spells since arriving here, and none of them have worked. ]

Some cosmologies where I come from-- [ Came from? ] --hold that the universe is fueled by blood. If things get bad enough, it might be reasonable to make, you know, an outsize number of sacrifices.

[ He huffs a sigh, slumping against the stone edifice. ]