Kaustir, Chapter 3

[UltimaCircuit]

Fuck. It was if his whole world had gone to shit as soon as they all arrived back in Avarath. His eyes watched the Nocturne before him end their advents These were not typical thieves or mercenaries. Those before him were trained assassins. A gulping sound left his throat before a flash of light erupted from U'SIl who was upon his shoulder. Instantly all of senses her heightened - hearing, eyesight, touch, and smell. By the time the activation process had ended the Nocturne before him had just unsheathed their curved daggers. K'Jol slowly back up, looking for something to at least protect his hide a little longer. Out of the corner of his eye he finally saw the perfect opportunity - a crumbling support beam. It was time to act. The famed warrior quickly ran into the crumbling support beam, cutting his arm upon the wood and stone as he did so. The stone overlay above the doorway to the hallway of cells began to shake before falling down in between the assassins and K'Jol. For a moment he leaned against the mass of rocks, gasping for air before looking down the long corridor. To his left leaning against the wall was the spiked and bloodied whip that had been used on him.

"Damn it... I am going to die before the true days come... and I have not even done anything in this fucking place!"

He quickly ran for whip, grabbing it off of the ground before running down the hallway towards where his General was headed. The barricade of rocks would not hold out forever.

 

[Torsty]

Gulzar had just managed to reach the door to see what the noise outside was about. After that it was a sprint to get as far away as possible from the animalistic bombardment.

Adrenaline moved the Mayor. Guards were ordered in the opposite direction, he could only hear their cries of battle in the back as he moved, pushing trusted servants away to make his own way for security.

He was getting close to the cells when they caught up to him. A strike landed across his lower back, the movement so quick it took a second before he felt the stinging pain.

"GAAAAAH!!!"

Gulzar turned his head back while screaming, seeing the black armoured devils.

'No, it can't be...!'

**
**

The Mayor was peeking out of a tunnel entrance that had opened just a little to the side of where Theo's cell was. It was the entrance to one of Avaraths secret passages. He waved while trying to get eye-contact with Amalia.

"GET OVER HERE!!!" He looked exhausted. Sleep deprivated, angry, scared....he had just used one of his advents to escape certain death.

That is when he realized Amalia was not changing her course of action, and more people were approaching.

'Nassad?! Gwendolyn?!' He recognized their faces.

Gulzar jumped from the tunnel entrance and grabbed the First General with force. Then he yanked her with him to the tunnel entrance. Not a word was uttered while Amalia struggled to get out of his grip.

"GAAH!!!" A dagger hit him in the back, Gulzar never wore armour.

"Save yourself..." The draken panted heavily. "Run!" He pointed inwards where he came from.

"I'm not leaving without Theo!" Amalia replied.

Were they really going to risk their own lives for a Dorgradi miner?!

Gulzar limped to wards the door of Theo's cell while struggling to find his keys. Another dagger planted in his back. Something was holding the assassins back from assaulting him directly.

"GAAAH!!!" One could see that the Mayor was loosing vitality by the second caused by all the open wounds on his body.

He opened the door and fell on one knee before he lost his balance and collapsed backwards in the corridor. Theo was free to make a run for it.

 

[Obskeree]

A MINER SET BACK

"General?" he replied upon hearing her faint calls and feeling the magnetism of the ring pull closer. She had been under arrest as well - but from her tone of voice it was clear He had to get out. "I'm in here!"

In a flurry of movement he tried for the door, but the chains stopped him yet again. He snorted and huffed, and stomping, trampling them beneath him, trying to crush them under his hooves. The chains rattled and chinked off the stone and chafed his ankles through the coarse hair.

The hooves began to split with the pressure, and he stopped as the pain raced up his legs. Rational thought overtook his desire to be free: if it would cripple him, he might as well stay put.

An idea struck him. He might not have been able to break steel, but he could definitely break stone. He reached down and took one of the chains in his hands - slick from the blood from his raw ankles - and with a roar of exertion hauled it upwards. It took three rushed attempts before the slab of stone the chain was bolted into cracked and shattered - Theo nearly toppled over at the force with which the steel brackets broke free of the stone, spraying rubble and debris around the room. He took a moment to steady himself, took a shaky breath, and moved onto the next chain.

On the second chain, he heard rattling at the door. With no clue who it might be - Amalia had gone quiet - he hurried his pace.

As he released the third chain, the door crashed open - candlelight flooded in, illuminating the wreckage of the floor beneath Theo's hooves. The mayor collapsed, and Amalia was left in the doorway.

He hesitated.

 

[Asmodeus]

Avarath

Theo saw two nocturnes, clad in black. One was in the doorway, standing over Mayor Ganguly. The other, slightly behind, had knocked K'Jol on his back. Now each assassin had a bleeding Draken at their mercy.

Blades glinted. Gulzar and K'Jol went blindly to their deaths.

THWACK!

A projectile of armour and feathers came crashing through the doorway, bowling aside both nocturnes in the midst of their coup de grace. Gwendolyn landed in the middle of the cell, wings unfurled, and spun while drawing his sword. He charged as the nocturne near Gulzar found his feet, and barreled him back into the passageway.

Meanwhile, K'Jol rolled on top of the second killer and wrestled him with blood flecked limbs.

Then came Nassad. He ducked through the gauntlet of people fighting for their lives, passed the passageway where Amalia cowered, and vaulted over the unconscious mayor to stand before Theo.

The slaver smiled as K'Jol and Gwendolyn battled behind him. He unfurled his whip.

 

[Zen]

She would not be stupid. Tamaa had enough sense to don leather armor, unlike Gulzar who stumbled into the fray like a newborn babe. The draken was not surprised then when she heard his shouts of agony echoing from the tunnels.

Halberd in hand, and her Aux in her mouth, Tamma steeled herself for combat.

Gulzar's mansion was ransacked; piles of bodies littered the floor of his office and sitting room, blood staining his precious rugs and carpets. Tamaa ignore the flailing of guards and assassins, the killers would end their lives soon and she didn't want to waste her energy in a losing battle. She charged towards the tunnels where the prisoners were held and at the threshold she swallowed her Aux, body glowing white.

The shouting and clanging was deafening in such a narrow space, but to Tamaa it got her heart pumping. The draken lunged with her spear, piecing the nocturne that K'jol was engaged with. Blood pooled easily from the wound. She withdrew her weapon and stabbed once more, the point extending out of the assassin's other side like a skewer.

Her Advent was still going. Out came Tamaa's halberd, covered with guts and blood. She aimed a kick for the assassin, missed, and her foot slammed into Gwendolyn's ribs. Recovering from the friendly fire, Tamaa attacked with her spear, pieced through the assassin's armor and into his chest. Her last strike punctured his heart, blood spurting forth like a fountain.

Panting, Tamaa kneeled and threw Gulzar over her shoulder. Teeth grounded together as her body protested the weight. Her violet eyes met with Theo in the cell. Tamaa snorted and wheeled out of the tunnel.

Seiyr

[dash=red]Behind K'jol, a cell door explodes. Sparks crackle in the air, a dust cloud obscures their view. A silhouette of a woman stands in the hallway, shrouded in electricity. The pressure changes in the area, and the sparks retreat towards the woman, circling her form like clouds in a tornado. Frenzied eyes take in the state of her comrades.

Seiyr lunges for K'jol, checking his pulse. It was there, faint but frantic, and he was still breathing.

She whirls around at the sound of thundering footsteps and shouts from the staircase.

The pressure in the hallway starts to build...[/dash]

 

[Tegan]

Scorched Land

In her years of service to Lut Sar, Nu had never abducted someone only to have them take it so... well. Perhaps the soothsayer was insane.

"This Nu is sorry." The girl shook her head, correcting herself. "I am sorry. There were no more choices."

"Uh-huh." Shae crossed her arms.
"There will be no harm to you."

"Aside from being taken from my home and my livelihood destroyed?"

Nu hung her head, unsure of how to respond. It had been so long since she had had any kind of interaction with a human that did not involve ending their lives. Her stomach knotted.

Shae exhaled a puff of air to blow an errant curl from her face. "Right. Damage done. You owe me a new business. But can you tell me why you've taken me out to the middle of nowhere? I'm guessing it has something to do with the avian and the nocturne in the streets. He looked military. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Oh, Shae had no idea just how much trouble Nu would be in once Lut caught up to her.

"He is High Inquisitor Lut Sar. This Nu is his contract."

Shae had heard of this before. It was common knowledge that the Red Czar and certain high ranking members in his army chose their bodyguards from the assassins sent to assassinate them. The failed assassin would be allowed to live, to protect their target for a determined amount of time, until they were given the chance to try again once their service had ended. It was a way of ensuring that a talent for violence did not go to waste.

But if Nu was out here against Lut Sar's wishes, then that meant the bodyguard had abandoned her post. She had gone rogue and would be hunted by the Inquisition, and Shae had been seen with her.

So much for going home. Shae would be lucky to go anywhere, now.
"And what about the avian in my vision?"

For the first time, the slightest amount of emotion could be detected in Nu's voice. "He is Knox and he must die."

"You're a cheerful one, aren't you? What? You got assassination contracts for every man in Kaustir?"

Nu shook her head and reached for something in her cloak. "No. Only Knox and Lut Sar. Must be slain in that imperative." Shae made a mental note not to make jokes around Nu. They didn't translate well.

"O...K."

Nu finally found what she was searching for in her wraith cloak. She presented Shae with the page she had found in Knox's room. "Can you decipher?"

It was not from a book of crudely penned manifesto or gospel. All of the letters were the same size, the same shape, the same pitch black ink. The letters formed a near perfect square on the page. Nu had never seen letters like these, or one who could write them in such a way. Above the alien scrypt was a symbol in black and white. A strange plant, the bank of an enormous oasis, an avian boy flying towards a single star.

The answer was so obvious that Shae did not need to spend more than a second glancing the page. "This is a page from one of those fancy-schmancy press machine books from the North. It's the story of the avian boy who was blown off course from his choir but found his way home by following the Northern Star."

Nu stared at Shae blankly.

"It's a famous story. You really haven't heard it?"

"..."
"Whatever. It doesn't matter. Anyway, this page is about the Kynance Cove. Couldn't you read it?"

Nu had heard of that. The borders of Kaustir and the Northern lands were separated by a treacherous mountain range. If one wanted to leave Kaustir without going through the Chersonese, they would have to venture to the small coast to the east. How could Nu have been so stupid not to guess that? It would take days of hard travel to get to the cove, and by then, Knox may have escaped to the North, out of her grasp forever.

No, she would follow him there if she had to.

+++​

Shae sat in the cargo basket of the sled as they followed the trail of the rising sun. Ombre and Vitro lay curled in her lap, while Nu's nameless vulture flew ahead, as usual. Like her Aux, Nu was the *epitomical conversationalist.

The girl hadn't said a word since they continued on and it was impossible to read her expression through the breather masks both of them wore. Not that she had that many expressions, anyway.

"So, nice oryx you've got there. What's his name?"

"Oryx."

"Yeah, what's his name?"

"Oryx."

"You named your oryx Oryx?"
"Yes. Is not that enough?"

"You weren't blessed with the gift of the gab, were you?"

"I do not understand..."

"Nevermind. But on a more urgent note; what are we going to do about food? And gear for me? It's a long way to the Cove, you know."

"Lut Sar has faces in every town and there is no money for me."

"Which is precisely why I'm doing all the talking at the next stop."

Behind her breather mask, Nu blinked.

*That was sarcasm. Something else that didn't translate well for Nu. This was going to be a long ride.

 

[unanun]

He was confined to the dark office inside the Imperial Warehouses for his safety. His military shirt was peeled from his shoulder, a blood poultice sitting on the gash. The riots above had minimally affected the logistics, but the absence of several key merchants had stalled the flow of commodities in and out. Giant wooden pallets sat motionless on rails; oiled Dorgrad iron and steel fought the moisture inside their containers, and Avarath spices lost their potency in the salty, stale ocean air that filtered down into the caves. Down here, he would be safe from assassins until he had healed enough to engage in affairs. He hoped that the General was faring better than he did.

Why had she left him? He had never thought that she would have left him. He took her presence for granted. How long ago had these feelings first started sprouting in his heart? Her abandonment crushed him.

She and He, Her and Him.

It must have been between the first and second attempt she made on his life. The first, when she tore his face apart with an arrow, at the funeral pyre of her microcosmic civilization in the desert. The second, when she desperately lunged forward from the shadows, stabbing arrow in hand, the tip carving a trough from chest to neck. Her eyes bored into his, overflowing and overwhelming him with intensity that only a human could conjure. In the moment she was subdued, they held each others gaze: her outline shimmered with what he could only describe as colour, flooding his vision. Sorry. The word had slid unbidden from his lips.

Sometime in between, she lay on the ground outside, half buried in the sand. He stood with his back to her, leaning against a pillar, out of sight. With the night smothering vision, his ears saw her whispered song, every word she softly sang etched into his memory. The sand took on a brown tint. The moon glowed a faint harvest yellow ... colours. Even if this was not the first time it happened, the fire that licked at his heart superseded his lifetimes worth of memories, washing them all away and leaving him a newborn in that instant.

He leaned back in the dark office, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. The chair crashed back onto the ground. From behind his hands, he sang what he heard that day:

[0:49] In a faraway place,
[0:57] there is a good girl.
[1:06] Whenever people walk past her yurt,
they all turn their heads to look longingly.​

(She looked at him. "Hate." Her fingers went white on the hilt of the dagger. "Revenge. Kill." He pinned her against the wall, and reached inside her tunic until he saw the panic in her eyes. "No. Stop." She learned about the Nocturne's strength that day.)

[1:58] Her pink face is like the red sun.
Her lively and enticing eyes
are like the bright evening moon.​

(They were naked, tangled in the Imperial Baths. Moonlight threw shadows on their writhing bodies. Her third attempt was a little more clever: she had joined him, wrapped in sheer cloth that disappeared when wet. Her hands, clasped in front of her, hid the small dagger. His advent had already been triggered by a paid sword earlier that day. But she did not know he could not bring himself to feed on her, and thus would not expose his heart to her. The dagger tip glinted in the moonlight. She learned that Nocturnes could see better in the dark, that day.)

I would give up all my wealth
to herd sheep with her.
I would like to look at her pink little face
and her beautiful gold-trimmed clothes every day.​

(She tried to poison him. He forced her to taste the blood and watched her vomit for hours while he did paperwork. The vomit was red and brown. She learned about the Nocturne's sense of smell that day.)

[2:35] I would like to be a little sheep
to follow her.
I would like her to brush me
lightly with a thin leather whip​

(She was changing. He had reached for the sun and wrenched it down from the sky, killing its brilliance in his greed. A desperate child, he tried to fix it the only way he knew -- the only path open to him in the situation. That day, after he had taken her into the Wraiths, after he begun to teach her everything she needed to know to kill him, he realized what he had done. He had killed her a second time. And now the sun was only a dim reminder of its former self, her brilliant ocher radiance reduced to a smouldering hot coal that shone from her breast.)

...​

"Ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaahhhhh............." A cry escaped his lips that he had never heard before. It sounded tortured. He pressed harder into his eyes, until they might have burst. He thought of her, and his heart quickened. Her face, wreathed in the golden yellow of the Sun.

He snapped upright with the horror of realization. Trembling, he wiped something wet from his face: blood. So he was crying. It wasn't from regret. It was from .. it was from .. !!

From love! He dug his fingers into his chest. But, if he was in love, why did it feel like his chest was being torn open?

Because he couldn't have her. Whatever he did, she would only see in him twice the harbinger of her annihilation, the ancient apparition of Death, a monster from another world. How could she love a monster? How could she love an eagle as a fish, how could he love an ant as an ant eater, how could she love a mountain as an ocean? But he loved her, Life, longing but unable to drink so greedily of her life-giving fluid, permanently stained with his sin. He couldn't stop laughing. The absurdity of the situation amused him. Even though he threw his head back with mirth, blood still dripped down his cheeks. He had finally found the ember in his long and dark life, but why did it make him feel alive with pain, instead of with elation?

Did he love her out of penitence? No .. no! Sun Who Shines Upon Us All, had he loved her before he took her under him? Had he loved her since ...

If he could have seen their tapestries, what would they have looked like? Could their paths have crossed, or would their meeting have only been possible with the twist of his dagger that night? Would their weaves have never intertwined, save for this doomed circumstance?

The story of Him and Her. Sun and Moon. Lut and Nu.

 

[Asmodeus]

Dorgrad Chamber Thirteen

"My rat is incorporeal," Nils retorted to his father's back. "It is the real vermin of Dorgrad you must fear." He studied the Governor's back, the creases of the commissar coat he wore. "They carry disease and mate with all manner of pests."

Governor Orvak kept his back to the bastard child and continued staring at H'Kal, who had said nothing in this time. The diamond mask tilted as he continued, unabated. "Yeees, Comrade H'Kal, a fine report has been given of your exploits. Rallied the miners of Chamber Niiiiine." He shrieked the number, while looking up to the ceiling again. Around him, Warden Bracht and the commissariat guards remained motionless for his theatrics. "One man does with the whip what kings must do with gold and money. Bravo, my dearest draken. Aagh!"

He gasped, almost orgasmically, when he saw the whip in H'Kal's hand. His gloved finger curled towards it. "Is this... said whip...?" He put his hand on H'Kal's, teased his fingers away with his, and took possession of the savage implement. Lifting it between them, the Governor surveyed the tight leather of its grip, the splayed tails, the flecks of blood now dried and fused with the fibres. "At once both brutish and masterful. Oh yes. Oh yes. You exquisite lizard. But tell me..." His diamond mask lifted, twinkling, to regard the foreman. "... why call it a whip... when it is not in commission?"

H'Kal frowned, and at last tried to posit an answer. But in that instant Governor Orvak spun on his heel and sent the whip unfurling in a savage lash. The tails caught Nils in the face and split the skin from cheek to eye. The ipari stumbled and was caught again by the second strike. Welts open from shoulder to sternum. He was blinded. His hand fumbled for his own chain, drawing on blind instinct, but the third whip sliced his arm and chest. He collided with the wall. Miners scattered from his vicinity, and he took the fourth and fifth lashes with nowhere to recoil. His blood came free and he slumped to the cavern floor.

"Governor..." Warden Bracht tried to interject, but the Lord of Dorgrad was in his frenzy. Orvak stood over his bastard son and whipped him again, long and whaling assaults that carried all his wrath. His hair fell lose and dropped across the mask in sweat-soaked strands - the only sign of his exertion. And beneath him, grey and black were turned to crimson. Clothes, flesh and protesting limbs were replaced by gore and the tighter Nils curled the harder he bled.

"Governor!"

The whip struck for the twelfth time, and Nils lay still, a ruin in the dust.

"GOVERNOR!"

Silence. Only the laboured breath inside the mask. Governor Orvak straightened, and slowly corrected the fallen strands of hair. His mask tilted. He looked down at his beaten son, studied him. More silence.

"I need that man for the Ipari."

The Governor tossed the whip back to H'Kal. The motion made the miners flinch. From the Lord's lungs came a voice deep and guttural, like the monster that lay beneath the screeching. "And I... needed this man... for a son. Yet few get what they want in this life." He turned to the Ipari Warden and composed himself, clasping hands behind his back. "When nocturne children are wayward, dear Warden, it is a matter for the family." The high toned voice returned, "Not for High Inquisitors. Especially that child-molesting little frrrrrrrrrrrrrruitybat Lut Sar."

He set off with a martial stride, the guards snapping quickly into line and moving with him. The Governor's arm came around H'Kal's shoulders and ushered him to like motion. He spoke as if nothing had happened. "Now, my dearest draken boy. Let me tell you about a wonderful party I am to attend a month from now." The miners bowed and hid their eyes as the Lord, the Enforcer, and their shadows departed.

Warden Bracht was left with a handful of Ipari, staring down with other miners at Nils. The man was still breathing, spitting gore and rolling bloodshot eyes. His body was a lattice of wounds, and his aux was curled in agony.

"Get him to the infirmary," she ordered, and stepped back with a sigh as the guards moved in.

Avarath

Gwendolyn made a wheezing cough, dust and spittle expelled. The mayor's bodyguard had moved like a shadow through the skirmish and extracted her lord. She was now heading back to the main stairway, the Draken in tow. And in a cell to the side, some crazy alchemist had just blown the locks of the cell and come to K'Jol's aid.

Nassad was restraining the bull. Gwendolyn needed to buy time.

Clutching his ribs, the avian rolled and reclaimed his sword. His hand reached out to the wall for the support, and plunged into the shadows of the secret passageway. Gwendolyn blinked, peered into it, and beheld the cowering form of Amalia.

His sword hand tightened. The avian pushed to the ground and lurched into the passageway. Amalia was too tired to run. Her hair was seized. Gwendolyn wrenched her back into the main tunnel and spun her towards Seiyr and K'Jol. Beyond them, at the rubble-strewn staircase, Tamaa was retreating as the others came down.

He put the sword to Amalia's throat and held her there.

Then yelled over his shoulder. "Nassad! Get the beast out of here." he jerked his head towards Gulzar's tunnel, then pulled the sword tighter to Amalia's throat. "GO!"

He waited for them... for Rakar and Takeda... Arania and Seiyr... K'Jol and any other who would come down that corridor.

"I did this for love, General," he whispered in Amalia's ear, while pulling the blade to her artery. "Remember that."

Dorgrad

"Theo..." It was all Nils muttered as he lay on the infirmary slab, in the shadowed dark of Dorgrad. The surgeon shook his head as he surveyed the whip wounds. The man was bleeding in a dozen places, one eye swollen closed, his mouth split. He would not wish that fate on anyone.

The old man made the Ipari comfortable then stood back. He ground his teeth, as if muttering a prayer behind his lips. Then he raised one hand, and in the candlelight examined the gold coin he had been given. It was genuine. Five weeks' worth of wages.

He sighed and turned away, moving for the doorway.

And as he pocketed the coin, four shadows moved in on Nils. Miners of Dorgrad. Men and women. Mothers, siblings and friends. They stood at the cardinal points of the slab and beheld the body of Nils, which barely focused one eye upon them.

"For our loved ones," spoke the largest of the miners.

The four lifted shivs, cut from stone and rusted axe blades. Then they fell upon the man in a frenzy, stabbing and cutting, weeping as they slaughtered.

Nils was butchered, as he had butchered so many. And Dorgradi justice was served.

 

[Tone 6th]

"Damn it!" Takeda screamed in his mind. The shooting pain in his shoulder left him grimacing. "Gotta keeping... going..." he hurried down the stairs but his mind was getting hazy. The group reached the bottom of the stairs only to find a barricade of rubble "Oh no are we to late?" despair gripped Takeda's voice.

"Should have been faster Takeda! Now you're poor Amalia will die!"

"Shut up!" Takeda roared and gripped his head. Something was very wrong. "Rakar can you ram through the rocks?" he pointed to the pile of rubble.

Rakar looked at the swordsman with bug eyes "In my current condition I'm barely able to stand let alone move rocks."

"Then what good are you!" he roared in frustration. He took a step back and took some deep breaths. "I'm sorry Rakar I did mean to insult you." his voice sincere. "We need to find away around..." *Crumble* *Crack* The pile of rubble began to move and give way. In an explosion of dust and rock and assassin emerged blade drawn and swinging for Takeda. *Clang* The two swords met in a flash of sparks. "RAWH!" Takeda deflected the sword to one side and kicked the assassin in the solar plexus sending him backwards. "I have had enough of this! Shibu!" he bellowed. Shibu darted down the staircase and flew into Takeda's back. The swordsman glowed yellow and resumed his fighting stance "Your life end here!" he waved for the assassin to come at him. The attacker came with great speed and force but to Takeda his moves were slow and predictable. He dodged observed the attackers movements, then in one felts swoop he dodged the enemies horizontal slice by ducking, stepped behind him, and without turning plunged his sword into the attackers back. Blood oozed from the assassin's mouth as the blade pierced the man's heart. The assassin's body went limp and Takeda yanked the sword from his corps, sending blood everywhere.

*Inhale* *exhale* Shibu left Takeda's body and landed on his shoulder. He flicked the blood off of his katana and sheathed it. *Whump* Takeda fell flat to the floor breathing heavy. Everything was hazy, his consciousness was slipping, and tears began to fill his eyes "Rakar... Promise... you'll keep Amalia safe no matter what the cost." he paused his voice horse. "This is my last order to you..." he left out a long exhale then stopped moving.



"Good night Takeda, sleep well. For you will never wake up!"

A few moments past then Takeda took a big gasp of air. Coughing and spitting up blood he got to his feet. "Well now isn't this a mess?" he flashed a tooth grin and looked to Rakar "I'm not dead yet... let's keep moving." his voice had a slightly sinister tone.

 

[Eternalfire61]

The Escape

Nassad turned to Gwendolyn and nodded.

"I apologize General, but we are in need of Theo."

Nassad looked Theo up at Theo and grimaced. He was finally his. Theo was about to charge at Nassad, but a single chain held on to Theo.

"Hold!"

Nassad moved to Theo and set his hand on his chest. His hand twitched as he touched Theo. Being this close to his prey gave him the utmost satisfaction, an ecstasy that could never be filled by anything but this moment. He looked at the Dorgradian miner and his expression became like stone. Theo understood what Nassad was doing, and he became calm.

"You are to follow me, otherwise you will know a pain greater than being chained."

Nassad moved past the miner and with a strike from his dagger, the chain broke. Theo was about to move for Amalia, but Nassad had other plans for Theo. His leather bracer glowed as Nassad activated his Advent. He chuckled as a chain was unleashed from his gauntlet. Like a snake, the chain coiled around Theo's neck and held a tight grip.

"YOU WILL FOLLOW ME AND OBEY ONLY ME!"

Nassad pulled the chain then pulled out his whip. Nassad held onto the chain tightly as he pulled Theo toward the secret exit. With haste Nassad pulled Theo, but as they were heading out through the exit Nassad turned to Gwendolyn.

"I wish we could have met under better circumstances..."

Nassad yanked the chain forward leading them both through the secret exit. Nassad could only think of the sacrifice Gwendolyn was about to make.

​

 

[Kriodine]

The Trial, orange

Trials in Zirako were a rarity, the city preferred to do things in absolutes. More often than naught you were arrested, investigated, and then a tower council would decide upon your fate, but trials were different. Trials could happen under two circumstances either the crime was committed by someone with large amounts of political power or the crime committed affected the entire city, Draegal's crime fell under the latter group.

Trials in each of the three major cities worked in different ways, in Zirako the head of each tower convened and served as the prosecutors while the Czar himself served as the judge. The trial went through three phases the first was the statement of the crimes. The second phase was the argument between the defense and the prosecutors. The final phase was the delivery of both the verdict and the punishment by the Czar.

Draegal's vision finally returned to him as a rhino Anima approached him "Draegal Hakir, your trial has begun please follow me." The Anima proceeded to lead Draegal to the courtroom. The courtroom was designed to look like a stereotypical tower, each of the individual council were stationed on balconies that resembled a spiral staircase with the red council on the bottom and the czar at the top. The Anima walked forward and loudly declared "The trial between Draegal Hakir and the city of Zirako will now begin. Will the respective councils please step forward when I call your name and give their respective oath please. The Red Council."

"I Horath Kon, leader of the Red Council and commanding officer of the town militia, do solemnly swear that the Red Council will protect the citizens of Zirako from all threats." Horath was a large Draken who stood surrounded by figures in red robes.
"The Green Council" "I Ysir the Evergrowing, leader of the Green Council, do solemnly swear that the Green Council will feed the citizens of Zirako. Ysir was a lion anima who stood surrounded by figures in green robes.
"The Blue Council" "I Sheol Hakir, leader of the Blue Council and last living member of the House Hakir, do solemnly swear that the Blue Council will keep the waters of Zirako pure and flowing." Sheol was a nocturne who stood surrounded by figures in blue robes.
"The Gray Council" "I Marath Ezoul the Third, leader of the Gray Council, do solemnly swear the the gray council will keep the city of Zirako running as efficiently possible." Marath was a human who wore a gray robe and stood alone on his balcony.

"All councils are accounted for, the trial shall now begin. Draegal Hakir you have been charged with" before he could start an avian ran into the courtroom and handed the rhino anima a scroll. The anima quickly scanned the scroll and started to whisper with the avian, after a while the nodded at the avian and motioned the avian away. "Due to recent developments more charges have been added, but the trial will continue as planned. Draegal Hakir you have been charged with forty eight accounts of murder, the possession of illegal substances, the possession of religious objects, kidnapping and torturing, and treason how do you plead."

"Guilty." The word resounded in the court for several seconds, if anyone in the room was shocked they did well to hide it. "We shall now begin the second phase of the trial, councils please send your representative forward to propose your argument." Sheol stepped forward and said "The councils have come to the conclusion that no further argument from our position is necessary." The rhino then turned to Draegal and said "Draegal Hakir please state your argument."

"None."

"Very well, the trial will now proceed to the third stage. Have you any last words before you are given your punishment?"

"Yes, I do. I Draegal Hakir, last of the Desert Fountains, would like to offer my knowledge and eternal servitude to the Czar in exchange for a better sentence." The court was silent for several minutes before Lukesh stepped forward. "Draegal Hakir, you are sentenced to serve me to the best of your abilities for the rest of your life. You have until tomorrow to gather what remains of your personal belongings and report to me. Guards will escort you home and escort you to me tomorrow, any attempt to escape your punishment will result in immediate execution. I, Lukesh the Burning Czar, declare this trial over.

 

[Kino]

The final assassin in the corridor had been dealt with, but there was still a problem that none of them expected. Not far down the narrow hallway two men had business of their own, taking Theo away in chains and holding a blade to Amalia's throat. Rakar, Arania, and Takeda turned their attention to the kidnappers after the last assassin in the corridor had been dealt with by Takeda.

An explosion from the cell near them made them jump back and watch as Seiyr stepped forth surrounded by electricity. She rushed over to K'Jol near the group to check on him, and just after she did, he groaned and started to push himself up. Rakar came over and pulled his fellow Draken to his feet. Rakar put his arm around K'Jol's shoulder to help him walk, both of them running on pure adrenaline.

Gwendolyn looked to them from the other end of the corridor, holding Amalia in front of him with his blade to her throat. He glared at them, prepared to do what had to be done. The group of Kaustiri defenders glared back at him. He had their General hostage. They weren't about to back down after all they had gone through. Unfortunately, neither was he.

A burst of energy erupted from Amalia's body suddenly. A barrier of magic came forth and immediately knocked Gwendolyn back, removing herself from his grasp. The barrier was fleeting, have used most of the energy she had left for it. Seeing their chance, the defenders rushed forward as the General fell over, losing her equilibrium from the sudden loss of power. Seiyr lead the pack with a head start, reaching Gwendolyn just as he started to regain his balance. Energy surged violently around her once again as she reached out and grabbed the Avian by the neck with both hands, causing her power to begin electrocuting him.

K'Jol parted from Rakar as they approached, and started pulling Amalia away from the fighting. He fell over in his haste, unable to stand on his own for long, let alone lift her. It was all he could do at this point to drag her away from them to safety. Arania rushed over to help him while Rakar and Takeda looked to the secret tunnel that Theo had been taken through. The two of them entered it and started making their way through it with Takeda in front, hoping to find Theo before it was too late.

Amalia got a hold of herself while K'Jol and Arania held onto her, pulling her back. Her eyes quickly fixated on the sight of Seiyr's backside as Gwendolyn was being dealt with, but the electricity suddenly stopped. For a split second, Amalia thought that it was because her advent had simply run it's course, but that hope was shattered as she saw a blade sticking out of her back. Gwendolyn had managed to focus just enough through the shocks, and drove his sword straight through the middle of Seiyr's torso. There was silence as blood began to trickle down from the wound. Gwendolyn pulled the blade from her body, causing the blood to start pouring out, and the engineer fell to her knees.

The General screamed in horror, tears welling up and flowing from her eyes. Rakar and Takeda stopped as they heard it, and quickly made their way back, fearing the worst.

Seiyr's eyes were wide, her body numb. Her mind was racing as the blood flowed. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly, and the world in front of her faded, giving way to memory. She was with Warden Bracht in Dorgrad, preparing to leave the city.

Flashback

"Don't give up."

Seiyr frowned and looked up into the mask of the woman.

"The Divine Weapons. They are still out there."

A memory. Seiyr wrapped the tablet clumsily, sealing with string and cloth the lie that had brought them here. She had pondered smashing it, hurling it into the magma river. But Arania insisted the fake tablet be sent to the Czar, to explain how all their efforts had been wasted. She heaped the stone with the report scroll and tossed the bundle to the messenger. In every action burned her fury.

"When we first found those dead camel herders, it was you I chose to warn. I sent the message directly to your household." She looked to the alchemist. "I knew the High Alchemist, more than any in the empire, would understand the importance of a catalyst."
Her gloved hand rested on the woman's shoulder. "This was the first spark, Seiyr - the beginning of a reaction that will consume Kaustir. One weapon was missed; but countless remain. And they will be found. You understand change, Seiyr - how new elements and new technologies can alter a state. You must be ready. You must help us all to be ready."

She left her with the camel and stepped away, towards the tent opening. There she was framed by wooden pikes where traitors of the Insect Cult lay impaled. Neither the first nor last blood to be shed in these troubled times.

"And what if only lies remain?"

The question drew her back. She turned and pondered, looking to the ground, as if memory soaked there. The Ipari mask concealed her emotions.

"Then we must build our own gods."

The engineer pondered it for the few moments she had left. Building our own gods? It sounded like the most grand of tasks. How splendid it would have been to create something so remarkable. So many questions left unanswered. So many things left to do, to discover, to experience. The darkness began to close in. It was harder and harder to think. Were the gods truly only lies? The question brought her a strange sense of solace in that final moment. It was one of the most profound questions in life. One that eluded her and everyone else. But she was about to discover the answer.

Amalia's cries echoed through the corridor as Seiyr's body fell to the ground. Just like that, she was gone. Arania was in a state of shock, staring wide eyed as her friend's body slumped to the ground. She was paralyzed and shaking. Perhaps if it had been someone else, she would have reacted differently, been able to shrug it off, but it wasn't. All she could do in that moment was stare in disbelief. K'Jol held onto Amalia, trying his best to calm her down, but even he was taken aback by the sight.

Gwendolyn placed a hand on the wall next to him for support, trying his best to recover after the devastating attack he had been dealt. His nerves were on fire, and his limbs wouldn't stop twitching. Rakar was the first to exit the tunnel next to them, and stopped for a moment as he saw Seiyr on the ground in a pool of blood, with Amalia screaming. Gwendolyn started to regain his composure as Rakar glared at him, baring his teeth.

The Avian reacted first, sending a vertical slash at Rakar, hoping to catch him off guard after the bloody scene in front of him. But he was ready, bringing up his shield to block and pulling the sword from the sheath inside the shield. Both of them were wounded and drained, but they gave it everything they had left. Slash, block, slash, parry, slash, parry. Each strike interrupted the sounds of sobbing with the sound of battle.

A stroke of luck befell the Draken as Gwendolyn's sword arm suddenly twitched as he was trying to block a shield bash. Sieyr wasn't finished with him yet, and the giant spiked shield found it's mark, slamming into the Avian's abdomen and pinning him against the wall. Rakar put his weight against it, making sure to pin him there and drive the spikes in deeper. Gwendolyn struggled for a moment, but quickly stopped trying. He knew he was done. He knew it well before this fight had begun. The two warriors came face to face, with Rakar still baring his teeth with rage at his victim. He brought his sword up, and pointed it victoriously at Gwendolyn's throat, and their eyes met. Rakar suddenly found pause.

He expected to see the eyes of a monster, of a despicable man worthy only of a slow and painful death. What he saw in those eyes was anything but. Gwendolyn did not cry. He did not yell in pain. He did not beg. He did not struggle. He only stared back. And Rakar found within those eyes the same thing he found when he stared into the eyes of his Aux Coros all those times before. Anger. Hatred. Sorrow. Regret. Duty. Vengeance. Acceptance. Gwendolyn saw it too. Soldier to soldier. Murderer to murderer.

His teeth were no longer showing. There was a moment of understanding between them, and hopefully Gwendolyn could find peace in that. He closed his eyes as Rakar raised his sword to the veteran's head. In that moment of blackness, Gwendolyn thought of his lover and her family. He would never see them again, but hoped that it would be enough to keep them safe. With a quick thrust of the arm, it was done. The blade pierced through his skull, quick and painless.

Takeda made it back out of the tunnel in time to see Rakar pinning Gwendolyn against the wall. All of them had seen it. Rakar pulled his sword and shield back, and the body fell to the ground. Nassad had managed to get away with Theo, but it was over. They were all together again, and they were safe for the moment.

Rakar dropped to one knee, holding himself up with his sword and shield. Amalia's cries had softened as she watched the fight in front of her. She knew she needed to be strong right now, and did her best to compose herself.
"We need to keep moving... we aren't out of this yet." Rakar spoke facing the wall in front of him. His voice was low and pained. Filled with misery.
"Right. We'll head down the tunnel. This passage should lead somewhere safe, given that the mayor kept it secret."

"Lets hope..."

"Takeda, take Seiyr. K'Jol... I need you to help me carry him.
K'Jol was surprised by the request, but didn't question it given the circumstances and pulled himself up, taking his time to get his balance and moved over to the other Draken. Rakar stood, and turned to face Arania and Amalia. Arania stood and took hold of the sack of medicine and sword she had been carrying, averting her eyes from the others as she moved towards the tunnel. Amalia was on her knees, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes. The sound of metal clanking against stone chimed as a bloody sword landed on the ground in front of her. It was Rakar's. She looked up at him confused.

"Get up. It's time for you to start leading. You're taking point."

He spoke with authority to his General. Now was not the time to play the obedient soldier. Amalia took the sword, stood, and made her way to the tunnel. They all filed in, Amalia leading. Takeda held Seiyr over his one good shoulder. Arania carried the medical supplies while Rakar and K'Jol carried Gwendolyn at the back of the line. They walked in silence, hoping that wherever the secret passage took them, they would all be safe.

 

[Asmodeus]

Last Winter

Their lips parted.

"Don't do that again."

"Next time you'll ask me."

Seiyr swung her legs aside and slipped from his arms. The covers fell from a blood-laced nudity: hers, his; theirs. Across a tiled floor where clothes where shredded, a latticed window framed the town of Ralivede. Smoke beyond the streets was pale, like rain mist, rising from the ruined monasteries. Another victory for the First Army. A slaughter she had brought here, following the trail of parchment, whispers and alchemical shipments. These monks had hidden their beer and honey stores lazily, and perished just alike. A lazy massacre. Seiyr had crafted ordinance, instructed the loading of the ballista, and directed the bombardment from a dune away. No single sword had come unsheathed.

Yet it was not the blood of cultists that clung to her. It was his. It dried between her legs. It caked on her lips. Seiyr brought her knees up on the edge of the bed, and wrapped arms around them to hide her body. "I don't want people to know."

The Czar reached across the pillows for kresnik. "You're ashamed?"

"I am the daughter of Lord Garnweld, of the House of Fehlen." Seiyr fingered gore from her blonde tresses.
Seven generations in service to the Third Army. I have attained the inner circle of the Hermetic Guild and sanctioned nine imperial patents." She twisted to watch him as he drank. "I didn't get to where I am by fucking the Czar."

Lukesh lowered the shot glass, eyes like embers in the shadow of the bed curtains. "We are desert people, Seiyr. From one oasis to the next. My subjects come to kill me, and to fuck me, and those who survive take honours away. I am a corpse for rats. They pull their piece of meat from the carcass, and find a shadow to enjoy it in."

"Poetic." She snatched the kresnik from him, poured her own. "But you gave my family its title because you wanted change. Innovation for your empire."

"So we must be Pegulians now and check our excesses?"

"I want more than your burning dick!" She snapped after downing the shot. Her anger had slipped. Lesser women would have lost their head. She was no such thing. "Your corpse is not enough. Not for me." The glass thudded down between his legs. She did not break her stare. "I am. Not. Satsified."

Silence within. Noise without. Around the manison compound the imperial entourage were gathering. Camel cries and the slap of elephant dung made music with their preparations. They would march for Denovale, where a cult of snake charmers were suspected. As if a ship awaited on the swirling sands, Seiyr's war machines were hauled, creaking, beyond the smoke. They would never come here again. They would never lie between these sheets, nor savour this room where incense burned of cinnamon and orchard shadows painted shapes through the glass. It was fleeting, like all oases.

Lukesh slipped from the covers and moved naked between the floor cushions. A table, overlooked by a tapestry of the Northern Furnance, was strewn with charts and papers. The detritus of their war effort, left here by advisers as all but Seiyr were banished last night by the hungering Czar.

He sorted through them now, in silence, Seiyr's eyes on his tattooed back. He selected a scroll and pulled it from the mess, carrying it to her. She uncovered her body, lowering knees, opening arms, and for a moment he surveyed her. Then she took the scroll, and unfurled it to hide herself.

Upon the parchment, the blueprints of a city. A city in the sky.

"Eif finished it. A month ago."

She could not veil her elation. Seiyr's hands moved hungrily over lines and measurements, tracing the cross-sections, swirling to the underbelly of the drawing, where the Staircase was mapped. She looked up sharply. "My theory?"

Lukesh nodded. "You were right. There is a stone. They call it the Alate."

Seiyr's hands trembled. Her skin flushed. With this revelation resumed the love-making, the teasing of her deeper desires. Lukesh knelt and placed a hand on each of her thighs. Their eyes met. "Find people you can trust. Bring me the Alate." He smiled. "Then we'll draw some more blueprints. Together."

Four months ago

"Who was that?"

Gwendolyn watched the supple, blonde beauty move away across the jetty planks, folding into the crowd of merchants and sailors. It was a beautiful morning in Avarath, and the desert sun had painted every curve of Seiyr's vanishing profile.

His arm was yanked. Nessa pulled him along with a chiding glance. "Some dock whore. Never you mind."

He stopped and spun her, scattering merchants and knocking boxes from the arms of sherpas. She yelped then laughed, then blushed as he kissed her. "My dear Nessa. You're green enough, my love."

The forest kin slapped him - lightly - then pulled him onwards before the crowd could fume. "Come on, you idiot." The lovers made their way towards the girl on the dockside who Seiyr had finished talking to. She was similarly built, a nubile, athletic build with silk-hugged curves. The bow of the merchant ship Neyote framed her, its boarding planks being lowered. They were just in time.

Nessa unhooked Gwendolyn's arm and rushed towards the girl, throwing arms around her. "Rasfien! You look wonderful!"

The sisters embraced while Gwendolyn stood behind them, glancing again to the departing back of Seiyr. Then he turned quickly as Rasfien hugged him too. He closed his arms around his lover's sister, feeling the hard edge of muscle, the shape of sheathes and armour beneath her silks. She had been training - no doubt about it. "And how's my second-favourite desert flower?"

Rasfien pulled back and fastened the straps of her travelling pack. There was a glimpse of scrolls and papers as she sealed the pockets. "You take care of my sister, Gwendolyn. When I return, I expect her married and harbouring thoughts of drowning her half-kin babies."

Nessa covered her face to laugh, despite the tears that welled.

Gwendolyn back grinned at the thief. "Dear Rasfien. I have mercenaries to inspire and posters to adorn. Marriage would be bad for my image."

Rasfien did not miss a beat. "So would castration, Sergeant-dearest."

"Enough you two!" Nessa cut between them and hugged her sister again. Beneath their skin, the veins of the two women shone green and golden, their kin membranes communing. "Can't you tell us where the Czar is sending you? When will you return? Please, Ras. Anything!"

The thief shushed her sister as she wept. "Why would I start telling you things now, Nes?" She felt a shudder of grief and laughter. "I'm going a long way. But I'll come back. I always have. Even when I stole Father's walking cane."

"They always sent me to find you."

"And you always paid me - What was it? Two copper pieces? Sometimes three. Just to come back so father would beat me instead of you."

"I could never buy any nice things."

The first mate yelled from the quarterdeck. The passengers were boarding. Rasfien unknitted herself from her sister's arms and let the memories of childhood fade. She glanced to Gwendolyn, then back to her sister. "Well, now you have a nice thing all to yourself. Be happy with him, Nessa."

Gwendolyn took over hugging his lover as she cried. He pulled his head to her chest and nodded to Rasfien. "You behave yourself out there, Sister."

The thief smiled and arched her spine, throwing her arms backwards in a perfect reverse cartwheel. Her limbs lifted and came down, startling some of the other passengers who were queuing for the boat. She ignored their glares and waved farewell to Gwendolyn and Nessa.

"Never."

Now

The cloth blanket slipped across their faces, covering the two bodies on the wagon. Arania's hand lingered there, holding the fabric. This vision would stay with her. She would remember Seiyr's face, and Gwendolyn's, serene as they passed into shadow.

"It's senseless."

Beside her, General Kirtin tightened the rope that held the corpses down. He had insisted on lifting Gwendolyn himself. They had fought together at the Battle of Crayvik, and for Kirtin for this man was still a hero. Placing the kidnapper's body on the officer's wagon, next to the High Alchemist, was a thing that only compounded Amalia's bewilderment.

"Why threaten me? Why give his life so Theo could be taken by that other man?"

Kirtin wiped his hand with a cloth. His face was drawn with wrinkles and dawn sun played across his silvered hair. "This whole thing was a damned shambles. We can't tell who was hero and who was villain. A fucking mess."

Amalia looked to the tent, pitched opposite the ruins of the mayor's house, where Gulzar, K'Jol and Rakar were being tended to. To one side, by a larger wagon heaped with nocturne dead, Arania sipped from a wineskin of blood. All of them were quiet and slumped, and the healers worked in mirrored silence. Lut Sar's wraiths kept watch on the street corners, between the squads of the Second Army. They had helped Takeda make a fleeting hunt for Theo's kidnapper... but had come up empty handed... just as they had with the man who attacked Lut Sar.

It was a morning heavy with defeat.

"What of my people?"

Kirtin followed her gaze. "Gulzar's pardoned K'Jol. Word from the Inquisition is we've been looking for the wrong Draken. It's the Market Jaws we need." He clarified when Amalia glanced him. "The Merchant K'Larr. He's the cunt behind all this. I've been ordered to take a fleet and comb the east coast for the bastard. They'll be hell to pay in the merchant guilds."

Amalia looked again to the blanket, where the shapes of Seiyr and Gwendolyn lay. "And what about me?" she murmured.

"You put down a rebellion, General." Kirtin slapped her shoulder and strode away. "Go collect your reward from the Czar." He shouted over his shoulder as he rejoined his men. "And bring him the Alchemist's body. They used to fuck."

A month ago

He held on her rooftops, feeling her shudder, feeling her fall. The grief had weakened her knees and forced him to kneel with her in his arms. Cuddled against the parapet, the lovers were lit by fireworks shooting through the sky. Seiyr, the High Alchemist, had set them off in honour of the election of General Amalia Lortik. There was feasting in the halls and dancing on the streets. A miasma of joy as Nessa wailed.

"What is it?" Gwendolyn was distraught too. He had come up here to watch the fireworks, and had left his lover sleeping. Now she had dashed up here as if possessed.

"A message from the Dreamtime!" Nessa screamed. "I saw the visions!"

"You had a nightmare. It's alright."

"No!" The forest kin struck his chest. "It's Rasfien! I see her falling. He chases her with his web. She's hurt. She's frightened. Oh, Ilium, please no!" She buried her head again and cried without restraint.

"It was a dream. Please Nessa, calm dow--"

"No!" His lover pulled away sharply, seizing his shirt, looking straight in his eyes. Her own were veined with red and purple - a beautiful and violent flower. Her skin shimmered with dewdrops. "No." Her second denial was ice cold - perfect calm. "The sky is falling in the west. The merchants from the Avarathi Run already whisper of it. She is trapped. My sister is trapped."

"How can you know that?"

Nessa wailed again and fell against him. Once more he caught her and felt his own bones ache with the violence of her grief. Blood-red fireworks blossomed in the sky, above the arena where the dead still lay.

Nessa had always gone to seek Rasfien, to fetch her back to her parents. But their childhood was ended. She could not go this time.

"Alright," Gwendolyn whispered to her. "Alright. I will send out the company. They will search, they will meet with my contacts." In the rooms below, his employees slept, little knowing of the early wake-up call they were about to receive. "If there is truth in this, I will go the Czar myself. The Burning Sun sent Rasfien away. He can bring her back. I swear it, Nessa. I will get her back to you... even..." He paused only slightly in his promise. "Even if the Czar bids me pay a price."

She was lost in whimpers. Gwendolyn held her and looked to the east, through the firework smoke, to the desert he would cross to kneel before the Czar and beg for the life of the Alate thief.

Last Winter

Rasfien... yes... she would be perfect for this task...

Seiyr lifted her eyes as her hand was taken. The corner of the blueprint slipped from her grasp and the scroll rolled in upon itself. Her body was uncovered, the parchment shrinking to nothing. Lukesh tossed it away then climbed onto the bed.

She laid back, let him move atop her, their flesh conforming, contour to contour.

He hovered there and read in her face the acceptance of this mission. She would send her agents to steal the Alate. She would let the Aviary fall and bring the stone across the ocean to Lukesh. And then, with his blessing, she would use it - to construct her greatest invention yet.

Her new terror, which would reduce a hundred towns like this one to ashes.

"Why me?" she whispered as she arched within his shadow.

Lukesh stoked her cheek. "You are my High Alchemist. You understand the Alate and how to remove it from th--"

"No."

Lukesh paused and looked at her again. Her lips parted, blood flecked.

"Why did you fuck me? All the whores who travel with you. All the daughters in this town. All the women waiting by your chamber door. Yet you chose to fuck me."

The Burning Sun was struck to silence. It showed in the slightest quiver of those ember eyes. He studied her face; breathed her scent. And in a moment, from beneath the cruelty in his heart, the man whispered truly to the alchemist.

"Because you remind me of someone..."

"...someone who I loved... when there was nothing in this word to love."

Now

He lay on the forty-second step, his back twisted, his limbs splayed.

The obsidian staircase burned with memory, each contact bringing remembrance. The webs he had spun; the people who he had killed with one decision.

This was his torture. This was the wrath of the Black Tower.

The Czar's head lolled back, bleeding from the cut of the forty-eighth step. His aux with a pile of writhing bones beside him. His eyes rolled. Blood dripped from his mouth, pushed from his shredded lungs, his racing heart. The black stone around him drank the fluid and painted further nightmares.

Korsch would find him... soon... and drag him back. The torment would end.

Yet he kept his eyes open.

He stared.

For at the bottom of the staircase the door was ajar. A wooden door, more elaborate and archaic than the one above, and wreathed in moonlight blue. The overlay of embellishment and enchantment seemed to twitch, a thousand esoteric patterns in the wood-grain. They danced with the shadows that loomed back and forth from the gap.


"Forgive me..." The whisper broke with blood tears.


And down below, beyond the half-open door, in the heart of the Black Tower, the prisoner stared back.

End of Chapter 3​