|Ability||Lower a minion's Attack to 0 until your next turn.|
Lower a minion's Attack to 0 until your next turn.
- This only lowers a card's base attack to 0, so any aura buffs such as Zeal effects (not applied buffs; only ones that come from another source and would be removed if the other source was removed) stay on. Don't try this against a Second Sun. Just don't.
- You can buff a minion's attack after Blindscorch was used on it to increase the attack above 0 again (e.g. with Killing Edge).
- If you use Blindscorch or Decension on a minion, then use Psychic Conduit to take control of it, dispelling it will remove the attack debuff but keep it under your control until the end of turn.
Beneath the serene skies and the sun's glaring eye, the sand pit awaited. Y'Kir Starstrider, Zirix's father, stood at the edge of the largest one. He was the tallest of the Vetruvians gathered. Around him waited the other Rite Masters, their heads bowed. The sun struck a torrent of light from their sandshields.
Zirix, half-blinded, knelt before Y'Kir. His father had coached him in the Rite. A chant to Eyos rose around him, accompanied by the thunder of drums. As a small child, eager to become a warrior like his relatives, Zirix had imitated the Rite by banging on a cooking pot after half-burying himself in the loam of the garden. He remembered Y'Kir's booming laughter when he caught Zirix at it. Zirix's mother had been less amused.
This time the drums were real, though. Through the noise Zirix heard Y'Kir saying, ‘Are you prepared for the gift of the sands?’
Zirix knew the correct answer. ‘I am,’ he said, his voice wavering slightly. To his relief, no one remarked on it.
Y'Kir held his hand out and helped Zirix to his feet. Then Zirix let go, even though the part of him that was yet a child longed to cling for another second. But he wouldn't shame his family or his friends.
Alone, Zirix stepped out into the pit, on the waiting path. He did not step too quickly despite the heat. He swallowed a panicked gasp as he left the path and entered the pit. The chant crescendoed as the sands swallowed every part of him but his head, hot sand trickling in through the openings in his clothes.
The Rite's lens focused its searing light on him. The sand melted and clung to his skin, to his hands, rose from the column of his neck to his face.
One of the Rite Masters sang a discordant note, just slightly sharp. The lens wavered. Sandmetal splattered and struck Zirix full across the face. Unprepared, he bit down on a scream.
Zirix endured. And endured again. The sandmetal seared him all the way down to bone. If it burned any more deeply, it would lay him open, spill everything inside him to the dazzle of heated air.
In the fever-haze of pain, he did not know when he first realized that his father was not going to intervene, and call a halt to a Melding clearly gone wrong.
‘Father!’ he cried. His tongue stuck to his mouth. He could barely get the word out. Each word hurt like it was dragged out of his marrow. ‘Father, please--’
Y'Kir could make this stop. They could halt the Rite of Melding, heal him, try again another day--
He could see Y'Kir's broad form, a tremor of light glimmering off the familiar sandshield.
And he saw to the second when Y'Kir turned his back.
[Next Chapter: Scion's First Wish]