The Scythe and the Seer, Book 3 of the Enchanter's Cycle

Dral’rrche had heard many knife-ears and round-ears describe “evil”, but had never truly believed in it as a concept.

There were foul deeds and those who were drawn to it, but he had ever been a more analytical sort. All that most defined as “evil”, he termed “incorrect”, due to some combination of being ineffective, unfeasible, or pointless, serving no benefit but personal satisfaction, to which he considered a weak and petty justification.

He knew now that he was wrong.

When he looked upon the Dread Hammer, seeing, truly seeing, truly knowing, pure evil, he could not deny its existence. There was indeed evil in the Veil, hidden away behind pretense, perhaps, but there is was...staring back at him with one horrible, soul-piercing, hope-obliterating eye. He saw a darkness that murdered light, than suffocated life, for no other reason than perverse pleasure.

He fell to his knees, his temples pounding, his vision blurring. It felt like insects were crawling around in his head.

The being, the god, grinned wolfishly, his pointed teeth coated in saliva and what looked like old blood, arms outstretched as if inviting embrace.

Flanking him were dozens of shifting blurs of heat and motion. Dral’rrche could not identify them, but assumed them to be squirming-tentacle-fiends which mortals minds could not fathom. He tried not to look too closely, lest he lose his sanity...

Directly to the god’s side was a woman; small and fragile looking but exuding an aura of such menace that he nearly mistook her for the greater threat.

Dark pitch of skin, she was a haunting reflection of the knife-ears from home; with slender limbs and an ageless face betrayed by her ancient eyes. Unlike the other blood-drinkers her eyes were a bright green, ringed in black. Her pointed ears sprouted small tufts of fur at their tips, and her mouth wasn’t full of gnashing-fish teeth but a nearly Human assortment, the canines long and narrow like serpent fangs.

He couldn’t say what gave him such instinctual foreboding, such an impression of malice; indeed, to another knife-ear she would have appeared beautiful. But something inside him, perhaps the beast-instinct that lurked in the heart of every sentient being, was what gave him pause.

The woman noticed his scrutiny, and those eyes fell upon him directly, even as the Dread Hammer looked away. Dral’rrche knew then that she was indeed more frightening than her master; in those eyes he saw his end, he saw the moment of his death, and he knew that it would be at her hands...

“Look not too closely...” Dur’Artoth giggled in some faraway place, disconnected from him, “...for you look upon my dearest companion, my angel of death. Look not too closely, for it is through her eyes that all mortal souls pass ere they enter the void.”

Botsu, Broodmother of the Skraul and consort of God Death, looked upon the lowly mortal with supreme disinterest. Zetsumei, her pale blade, sat patiently in its scabbard, waiting for blood.

“Senbotsu has failed me.” she noted distantly, “Her own sense of theatrics has spelled her undoing; a direct confrontation between the two of them is incipient.”

Her husband, Dur’Artoth, nodded, “What will you do, dearest? Shall we leave them to their sport?”

She shook her head, “All but one of my daughters is dead. I would keep at least one of my offspring alive, should the two of them carve each other to ribbons.”

God Death shrugged, “So be it. Go say hello to Kogoeji-ni for me. We haven’t seen each other in ages, and now that she is no longer of my blood I would like to taste her. Hmm. Maybe later.”

“Vala, get out of there.” Arteth warned in her mind.

She flinched, then cursed, “What are you talking about. I have her. I just need another-”

“Botsu is coming.” the Djinn snapped, “Get out of there, now. We need to retreat.”

Incredulous, she started to protest, then cursed again, transforming her body into mist and floating downward, seeking a vent to escape through...

She didn’t need a reunion with her mother, not unless she had an army at her back. Botsu was the one that destroyed Carthspire the first time...

There was only one logical way to continue; use Don’Yoku’s blood, kill him, and then kill the Matriarch. Dur’Artoth was a foe beyond her. To engage him was folly.

For Kaileena, though a small voice in her mind reminded her of this, the sheer weight of her rage silenced it. Screaming, her veins boiling with the force of her anger and the activation of her latent magicka, she lunged towards the Dread Hammer, her hand outstretched and revealing the tip of an iron rod.

Dur’Artoth casually parried it with the length of his hammer, breaking her wrist and three of her fingers.

Kaileena molded the bone fragments of her forearm into projectiles, then launched them from her flesh, peppering him with hundreds of tiny needles.

Leaping over his next attack, foot on his shoulder, she plucked one of the needles with her remaining hand, coated near the end with his black blood, and stabbed herself under the chin, linking their life energies.

Her body erupted in debilitating pain the moment his did, but instead of screaming Dur’Artoth gasped in orgasm, lunging towards her with visible uncertainty as to how to respond.

Arteth was there, thrusting his fanged sword, as was Illuthien with her axe. Botsu dissipated into shadow, but Kaileena hardly noticed, so great was her pain and anger. The pain only intensified, laying her low.

Dur’Artoth slapped aside her husband’s sword, parried Illuthien, and thrusting his feathered wings outward, one great gust of wind knocked aside Nu and Shinabi, the latter of which somehow landed on his feet a stone throw away, recovering instantly and loping forward, snarling.

Illuthien waved her hand in a mystic pass, and the buildings around them fractured, their fragments raining upon the Dread Hammer. The R’yzthaek didn’t move to aid him...

Kaileena tried to rise to her feet, and failed, twitching on all fours. She saw Farcia clutch her hand in horror, as a tendril of shadow coiled around it. As Illuthien lunged to save her, she gulped as Dur’Artoth brained her, shattering her chitin crown. Nu sent an orb of pale blue light from her fingertip and smote the Dread Hammer under his shoulder. With a rush of distorted air, a fist sized hole opened in his flesh, lined with scorched fur.

Shinabi leaped and sank his teeth into the Dread Hammer’s flank, but was uprooted and hurled away once more with a burst of shadowy energy, his fur aflame.

Arteth swung his blade in an executioner’s grip, but took an elbow to the solar plexus, and then, with surprising agility, the Dread Hammer struck her husband at the chin with a rising knee. Lifting his weapon, the darksteel hammer plunged towards Arteth’s exposed chest...

Ken’ichi awoke in his bedroom, though it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the faint light.

The curtains were drawn. The stink of unwashed body filled the room...his, probably. Hina stood beside the bed, and gasped as he stirred.

“Hinata! Quick, get some tea.” she hissed, leaning over him, “Are you alright, husband? How do you feel?”

He groaned, clearing his dry throat, “Where is Kaileena?”

She frowned at that, then turned as their daughter brought a platter with a steaming pitcher and mug.

“Drink this.” Hina said, offering him the cup, and despite himself Ken’ichi obliged, taking a large gulp that burned his throat. Coughing up what felt like a lung, he nodded as his mate offered him a pitcher to spit in, already feeling healthier. Hinata could brew some mean tea...when he wasn’t asking for cacao, anyway.

Sitting up, for he was unused to being pampered in this manner, Ken’ichi nodded, “All right. I feel better. Now tell me...where is Kaileena?”

Hina exchanged a look with his daughter, then looked back to him, “She left Moonshadow not long after your match. She...caused much destruction as she did.”

“What?” he breathed, and his mate sighed, “Armathras challenged her to a duel. She accepted, and killed him. How she did it...was not pleasant. The crowd was horrified...and I think that broke her. She screamed, and the crystals fell from the sky, harming many and destroying several buildings. As the Djinn mobilized to subdue her...she vanished. We have heard nothing of her since then.”

Damn it...

“You let her fight a Djinn?” he asked, speechless, and Hina squirmed under his intensity, “She would not have listened to me. Husband...there was something...savage...in her eyes.”

She looked away, unsettled, “It’d been there all along, but Armathras’ insults towards you and the gross mistreatment of the arena’s code which harmed you so badly...it set that something loose. What fought down in those sands was no Silkrit. She killed Armathras with ease, mutilating her own body with cold detachment. I don’t know what has happened to that girl...but...”

“It matters not.” Ken’ichi grumbled, sliding out of bed, Hinata averting her eyes at his nudity, “I need to speak to her again. Bring her home. She told me that stone was what gave her such powers...this was all just a misunderstanding.”

“Husband...” Hina protested, but he silenced her, “I don’t know what you saw, but I don’t need to. Kaileena is our niece; the only daughter of my sister, Uchiki. We help our own, no matter what.”

“There is something else.” Hina said dejectedly, giving him pause, “Yesterday, three visitors arrived...claiming they had business with you. They have waited outside this room since then.”

“Send them in.” Ken’ichi scowled, throwing on leggings and greaves, already searching for his tunic.

“We can show ourselves in, thank you.” Niria replied icily, stopping him dead.

Bowing, Ken’ichi stammered out a proper “milady”, cursing himself for never introducing Hina to her. Following his captain was a Djinn that he recognized as Surthath’s champion, Elurra, and an elf with tattooed eyelids.

“Hello, Ken’ichi.” Niria said, “It is good to see you have recovered.”

Grunting, Ken’ichi took another sip of tea, “As always I am grateful. But pardon me for asking...why are you here, captain?”

Niria eyed him askance, then added, “A third of the city is in shambles and you ask me that question? Your niece made quite the mess of this city, and most of the local Arcanists are mending the damage.”

It was that bad...?

“Was anyone killed?” he asked, and she shook her head, “No, thankfully. Quick thinking on the part of those with access to magicka prevented any casualties; of course, every city in Moonshadow has plenty of magicka users to spare. But the Moon’s Eye has been ordered to arrest Kaileena and try her for her crime.”

“And what would her punishment be?” Ken’ichi asked, breathless, to which Niria smiled, all assurances, “A minor penance for one who is now immortal. We understand that the fool Armathras was primarily responsible, and when he resurrects a far greater price shall be levied upon him.”

“She fights against the Dread Hammer.” he protested, to which Niria nodded, “That, too, shall be taken into account. We will seek out and assist her in her task, and then peacefully escort her back to Moonshadow. Elurra and Vilaseth, two heroes of the Dreadborne War, will assist us at my behest.”

Elurra smiled, taking his hand in hers, “I met your niece briefly in Hitorigami City. She was a sweet girl, and I drew upon many accumulated favors to get her such a minor sentence for almost sacking a metropolis. I know she didn’t mean what she did.”

“Then I am in your debt.” Ken’ichi replied honestly, “I desire to speak with her anyway. When are we to leave, captain?”

Niria shrugged, “She recently evaded the tracer placed upon her two days after your match. When she next appears in Teikoku...we will be able to teleport to her immediately.”

So be it.

“Kaileena...hang on until then.” Ken’ichi thought to himself, ”And don’t do anything more foolish in your troubled state..."

Everything seemed to freeze in place. All she saw was mathematics; with the angle of the descending weapon her beloved would take the optimal potential impact, right in the ribcage.

A head wound would have been better; the chitin crown would protect his brain and prevent partial decapitation. But as was, the ribs would impact and pierce the heart, killing him. His resurrection would be long, painful...if Surthath even allowed him to return.

In one solitary moment of absolute clarity, Kaileena found herself beyond pain. Without hesitation, she willed her heart, the organ at least, to pull itself apart, knowing she was still linked with the Dread Hammer...

I feel my heart implode, and gasp, every muscle clenching.

My attack misses my lesser half; what would have crushed the ribcage only broke his shoulder, wrenching his arm halfway from its socket.

My wound regenerates almost instantly; I have a second and third heart hidden inside my body, and do not dis-incorporate from its lack.

The R’yzthaek, tiring of the night’s entertainment, attack in earnest, disabling the mortals with crippling telepathic attacks.

The Ogre, his mind fractured, collapses entirely, his eyelids seeping blood. The Gnome wizard, the last Gnome wizard, also collapses. The Dragons plummet from the air, their bodies generating deafening impacts as they collide with the ground. The hound, whining pitifully, circles an unseen patch of stone continuously, bleeding ears pressed flat against its skull.

Kaileena saves the mortals by teleporting them away, nearly expending the last of her power that I can sense. She has nothing left for considerable spell casting.

Her body regenerates the lost organ, and she draws an uneasy breath, her legs shaking. She eyes me coldly, and I smile, my worm-like tongue salivating and sliding down my chin, “There, there, little girl. I did not let you come here just to kill you in open combat. There’s no fun in that sort of thing.”

Confused, Kaileena paused, her constructs still attempting to locate Vala so she too could be sent away, and the Dread Hammer’s smile widened, “You intrigue me. An incorruptible soul...hardly. Still, with all that metal in you, with all of that iron...I find you increasingly...interesting.”

Her embedded materials were mostly gold...but that was not what he was referring to. She decided to humor him while her Kamiyonanayo allies began to heal themselves.

Farcia was on the ground, her arm twisted almost into a knot. Illuthien was unconscious, her chitin crown in bloodied fragments. The R’yzthaek drifted lazily around Nu, who gibbered madly and scratched bloody furrows into her own skin. All of them would recover eventually, and perhaps distract the Dread Hammer while she drew power from her constructs...

“I wanted to show you something, something...wondrous.” Dur’Artoth continued, “First, though, I thought I would offer you service to me.”

“Serve you?” Kaileena asked, inclining her equivalent to an eyebrow, and Dur’Artoth’s grin widened, “Both of us have our philosophy for a perfect existence. How could you so easily dismiss my own perfect order, yet act with such righteous certainty?”

“Because there are others who suffer thanks to your actions. And only a small, small minority of mortals see things your way. They are not owed all the universe because of their willingness to harm others.”

The Dread Hammer seemed more amused by that than offended, “And tell me, Kaileena...what do you owe all those others? You, who have suffered for their sake? You, who have suffered at their hands? In fate’s hands? Are you certain you do not fight in vain?”

The words struck a little too close to her own thoughts...

“Where they would make you their servant...” Dur’Artoth continued, uncaring as her allies began to stir, “In my realm, your strength would allow you to determine your place in it. I do not deal in such incipient allusions as the propagation of kindness and honor. Strength, and strength alone, rules this world, rules all worlds. Your power marks you as something above your fellows; not even the Djinn could defeat you now, and yet you waste your time trying to fight their battles. It’s depressing.”

Mollified, Kaileena was forced to reassess her hatred of this foul beast. The Dread Hammer held out his hand, “Join me, Kaileena. Embrace all the dark pleasures of my realm. Dur’Arteth is not the only one who would appreciate you...we are one and the same, him and I. We have the same tastes... We are two halves of one soul.”

Feeling his honeyed words infecting her, Kaileena reminded herself who she was talking to; this was the monster that wished to destroy her home, kill her family, her beloved. This was the Dread Hammer, who corrupted worlds, enslaved souls...

Hissing, Kaileena considered causing greater bodily harm in order to damage him, before retorting, “It is your fault that I have been forced to fight. If you-”

“If not me.” he interrupted, “Then someone else. Maybe Argosaxx, if that one ever comes back. If Surthath sees potential, he will use it to further his ends. Trust me, we are very well acquainted. Face it, girl; Surthath has used you. He and I use those beneath us all the same, yet I hold no grand delusions of goodness or benevolence as he does.”

He laughed, “I have no grand scheme for you, Kaileena, or for anything; I do things as I see fit, as could you if you joined me. I would offer you the ability to use your power as your heart truly desires! Does your heart not cry out for vengeance?”

“Against you!” Kaileena snapped, shaking with anger, rising to her feet, her legs shaking, “I have given everything; my body, my life, my soul, to stop you. But what remains of me will not stop when you are gone. Surthath, too, will come to suffer as I have suffered, as you will suffer! I will save the veil; from monsters like you and from its own self-destructive impulses. You think yourself a god? You will see the god I can be.”

“Arteth...” Kaileena projected telepathically, watching him rise to a knee, “It is over. We must leave.”

The Dread Hammer laughed.

“Too late...” he replied, gently swaying from side to side as volatile energies poured from his fingertips, “Too late! Carthspire is mine. Mine! And you will not leave intact!”

Three constructs in Higoi still functioned, and she set them all to the task of identifying the spell he was casting. Their response was immediate.

On the surface, the planet appeared unchanged, but Kaileena focused her perception down, to the true target of the Dread Hammer’s manifestation. The molten core of the planet was cooling, slowing. Its thermal energy was being absorbed by the concentrated shadowy magicka being manipulated by this single, monstrous evocation; the Dread Hammer was directly affecting the planet, even from the Faded Veil.

“We need to leave. Now.” she told her allies. The ability to kill him meant nothing now; nothing but the Phoenix Stone would survive the planet collapsing into itself. Maybe not even that.

Nu wouldn’t hear it, though she could barely move, “But we cannot! We-”

“Must leave!” she snapped, “I have Vala. We go.”

I do not allow my R’yzthaek to kill my foes. They cannot harm me, or at least damage anything I could not replace with ease. With Don’Yoku, I can destroy any world, at any time.

They are inconsequential, though I find the little Silkrit to be increasingly fascinating... She can heal any wound, no matter how grievous. Oh, the things I could do to her, whether by fucking her or by chopping her to pieces, or even both at the same time!

“Consider my words, girl.” I muse as her magicka whisks her away, the ground shaking as Carthspire halts in its planetary rotation, “I would have you, not as a slave, perhaps. You look...tasty.”

She said nothing, though she shivered in discomfort, disappearing in a flash of light.

Vala groaned as Fuyuzora’s power depleted, returning her to her mortal form.

Suddenly re-introduced to her mundane senses by the abrupt change, she found her vision blurry. Unable to judge her surroundings by scent anymore, she tensed dazedly as something latched onto her leg. Looking down, she saw it was Kuri, and that she was crying, face buried in her leggings.

“What was that?” Vala asked, drilling a fingertip in her ear, trying to banish a peculiar buzzing sound, “What did you say?”

“I said you’re alright, mama.” the girl replied with a whimper, her words muffled.

Tilting her head up so they could lock eyes, she smiled tiredly, “I told you so. But you should be in your room, right? Go there for a while. I will bring sweets along shortly.”

She sputtered a protest, but Vala silenced her with a gaze, “Now, Kuri. Please.”

Chastised, the girl departed, leaving her to find her footing, eyeing the broken bodies of her allies. The Dragons were not present, likely outside, but the rest were concentrated near Kaileena’s throne, upon which she currently sat, eyes clamped shut, a hand at her chin.

A small needle rested in the other, coated with blood that seemed to evaporate in a crackling mist. One of the Kamiyonanayo collected herself, literally, to an extent, then saw to the others, waving her staff in complex patterns, muttering something under her breath. The Ogre and the Gnome that she tended to looked to be in bad shape...

“This should not have happened.” Kaileena said dryly, eyeing her, “You were supposed to kill the matriarch and thus weaken Don’Yoku’s barriers. You told us to remain, not to accompany you to defeat her.”

Nostrils flared, Vala bit back her first retort, then replied, “I had her. Another minute, not even, and I would have defeated her final protection.”

“We did not have a minute.” the Silkrit snapped, her eyes blazing, “Dur’Artoth was there, as were his generals, as was your mother.”

Vala paused, troubled.

“She is no mother to me.” she eventually replied, “But I understand. I would not have been able to defeat her.”

“To have known of her presence for certain would have been useful.” Kaileena continued, “Why did you not inform me?”

“Well, I thought she was dead, for one.” Vala explained, taking a seat near the table, for weariness threatened her ability to stand, “Mating with the Dread Hammer taxes the body, or so I have heard. As does the nature of magicka she wields. And she birthed a great many of us. When last I saw her she was but a pain-wracked husk, corroding from the inside out. What did she look like now?”

Kaileena frowned, her anger forgotten, “Hale, from my observations. Youthful. It matters not. Carthspire is no more, as is our business there. I must now focus on preventing any and all teleportation into this world. We cannot afford Don’Yoku entry if his master can so easily extinguish a planet.”

Considering the needle in her hand, her expression softened further, “Luckily, as I obtained a sample of his genetic material before fleeing the battle I will be able to track his movements, and in close quarters I can influence his body in plenty of unpleasant ways. This will not happen again.”

Then, “Be gone, Vala. Rest, eat, or do whatever else pleases you. But do not stray too far, for you may be needed.”

It was not a request.

“Very well.” Vala replied, suffering the bitch and her temper only because of Kuri’s proximity and her own failure to kill Senbotsu, “I will be off, then.”

Kaileena watched the mottled vampyre depart, then turned to Arteth and Shinabi, both worse for wear but not fatally so.

“Are you alright?” she asked her husband, and Arteth grunted. Looking over to her hound, who panted heavily, collapsed by her feet, she smiled tiredly, “You were very brave, Shinabi. I thank you. I will have my servants fetch a flank of raw beef for you, as an inadequate expression of gratitude.”

Shinabi grunted, and the humor of comparing the sound to Arteth’s almost made her forget herself.

Unfortunately, darker matters impressed upon her the need to haste, so she began to monitor her Phoenix Stone’s energy regeneration, accelerating it as she could.

She needed more power, more allies to call upon. She would not suffer neutrality any longer, nor could the Hitorigami. Her fading emotions rebelled against what needed to be done, but her logic; cold and immaculate, extinguished their pleas. Her heart hardened. Arteth noticed her introspection.

“What is it?” he asked, to which she sighed, banishing the last of her misgivings, “I have some important business to attend; chiefly, I would enlist Kiromichi’s aid. What we have will not be sufficient to defend this land.”

Yokai stirred, temples throbbing.

He rose, nails digging into wet grass and mud, wind blowing through his hair. He opened his eyes, wiping away the grime coating them, finding his humanoid hand before him.

Nonplussed, he searched inside himself for that spark that had allowed him to transform into a Dragon, and found it. Inactive, but present. Good...he could return to that form, in his opinion, his true form, at will.

He sat up, beside Tengu, who groaned in her slumber, her massive jowls slicked with blood. Only some of it was her own.

All about them was an empty field, Higoi some ways in the distance. He sighed, knowing that Kaileena would seek to call upon him again in her own time, and studied Tengu, measuring her breathing for signs of duress.

She woke within a three hundred count, a deep, rumbling growl bubbling from her throat, before she noticed him and relaxed. It had been difficult to tell, but in wearing the shape of a Dragon, he understood her particular expression to be that of a wolfish grin.

“You are well?” Tengu asked, eyeing him curiously, trying and failing to rise as well, and he smiled, “You should be concerned for yourself, friend of my heart. You look dizzy.”

“I am fine.” the Dragon protested, then she startled, “Did I dream that? Did you really become a Dragon?”

He smirked, “What do you mean? I was born of your womb, bonded; was I not a Dragon already?”

Tengu nodded, albeit uncertainly, “Flesh magicka that powerful is...impressive. But then, you are right; my blood is your blood. It was my flesh the first Yokai changed to become your body and egg. And you certainly have the heart of one of my kin.”

Patting her scaly hide, and pulling back pockmarked hands for his effort, Yokai shrugged, licking the blood from his fingers, “I was merely emulating the Dragon before. Now, I am one in full, who will use this form as an intermediary alone. And never again will I let another rule me or my heart, save you and you alone!”

Tengu gasped, though from her it sounded more like a growl, and Yokai grinned, “I tire of this world, bonded. Shall we not seek out another world through which to fight Dur’Artoth and the Skraul. I am eager to see Moonshadow, in any event.”

Nodding, Tengu relaxed, laying flat, then, “I look forward to flying with you through the Veil. First, however, I am in need of a nap, and a few pasture’s-worth of livestock. I will decide which I need first...”

Kiromichi started as some idiot knocked on the door.

He’d left orders not to be woken, having stopped by his manor earlier that day, working off the revelry of the recent string of victories, all of which had been properly rewarded with payment by the Hitorigami; perhaps an apology for his betrayal. The nerve...

But he had no time to consider the loss of his title in his homeland. He had a naval campaign to plan, and needed a good night’s rest to fight off the hangover!

He’d already scoped out a new base of operations; this island was getting much too crowded. Even with the hundreds that died in the defense of Shimobashira Inaka, he had to expand their holdings...dramatically. They, as in his subordinates, seemed to want to try attacking a small continent they had charted two hundred years prior, during their flight from Augur.

It was a likely notion, but he wanted to tie up a few loose ends in Teikoku first...

Again, the knocking. More insistent.

“What?!” he snapped, rising and belting on his nameless sword and slipping on his gauntlet, from which hung his enchanted orb. Time to discipline his aides...again.

He opened the door, several choice words coming to mind, but he stopped dead when he got a good look at his first lieutenant; the poor bastard was all wrong...

His skin was...grey, hairless...and his expression was blank. His dead, soulless eyes seemed to glare at him, and he said in a gravelly voice, “Your presence is requested in the main hall.”

With that, the man (if he was still a man), departed, leaving Kiromichi staring blankly at the far wall. What in the hells...?

Something bad had happened while he’d slept. How in the hells had the alarm not sounded?

“Fine. Somebody wants to see me.” he grunted, walking out in his breeches, his bare feet finding keen purchase in the wooden paneling. He wasn’t about to get caught off guard like this.

As he neared the window, he pulled out a flare gun and fired out of it, the phosphorous shell hurling through the air of the city. It would alert anyone...still themselves, that the city was under attack. The fleet would be mobilizing shortly...

He strode into his entry hall with his sword drawn. He might as well not have bothered. All forty of his personal guard were altered just like his lieutenant. The whole chamber was packed with them; Humans with pale grey skin and dead eyes.

At the end of the hall was that Silkrit girl, Kaileena, and her pet Kamiyonanayo. She had a look on her face that was in no way divergent from the turned soldiers.

“Lord Kiromichi...” she said in an icy voice, “I apologize for my inability to arrive at a more convenient hour, but time presses.”

Giving the bitch a glare equal to her own, Kiromichi eyed her handiwork.

“How many of my men?” he asked, and she looked to him askance, “You call them men? Curious. All of them, every warrior in the city, in fact. I have declared martial law while you slept in a web of my enchantments.”

Shit. This was bad.

“Why are you doing this? Actually screw that, how are you doing this?” Kiromichi breathed, considering his avenues of escape. The far window?

Maybe, but it was an obvious choice. Up the fireplace? That had a sort of black humor to it...

“What have I done? Through organic conversion, carefully yielded through extensive and...painful processes, I have secured a loyal army for the people of this land and all others. And I can do this because of what I now am.” she replied, as if that explained everything, “And I will do this because an army is needed to expend against the Dread Hammer.”

Then, “I find your pirate kin to be exceptionally expendable...especially now that they have no will of their own; un-killable automatons bent to my will.”

The Kamiyonanayo shifted uncomfortably...the expression on his muzzle too alien to identify, but Kaileena smiled cruelly, “Your kind have plagued my homeland for long enough; that you plan to spread your filth elsewhere does not redeem you for your many crimes. I, Kaileena, Lord of the South District, by the authority of the Hitorigami, do hereby judge you and your men for the crimes of sedition, high treason, murder, thievery, abuse of positions of authority within the land, the subjugation of its citizens, primarily enchanters, attempting to influence the Hitorigami through extortion and bribery, and a litany of other offenses that I have not the patience to verbally illustrate. Your sentence is eternal servitude to the people of Teikoku.”

He did not inch his way towards the unlit fireplace, gave no indication that he planned to go that way. A dozen soldiers shifted their positions to guard it anyway. He tried his damndest not to focus on the window either, and a pair went to guard that.

“Your mind is an open book to me.” Kaileena whispered, suddenly behind him. Starting, the pirate lord turned to find Kaileena, another Kaileena, this one with the same grey skin as the men.

“A construct.” the clay Kaileena mused, “Do you find it remarkable? I do.”

His reflexes were honed by enchantments. His perception was fortified to levels beyond that of a normal Human. He’d dodged a cannonball in mid-flight, angled around a hail of musket shells while backpedaling. She struck a length of iron in his chest, into his heart, and he didn’t even see her move...

Kaileena approached Kiromichi, gently caressing his cheek as her construct’s iron rod burrowed deeper into his flesh.

“It was just like this; the attentions of the men of Fusestu, as was the binding to the Phoenix Stone. Forced entry. A rush of heat, panic. A hollow bitterness, a feeling of profound violation. Like me, your body is being used for a purpose not your own. Your precious freedom is forfeit, as was mine. You are no longer by definition a person at all; merely a tool, an item, to be used and discarded.”

She frowned, backing away, “Like me, you will submit to this fate...until all that remains of your once bright soul is no more than a memory. And like me, Kiromichi, your fate will last for all eternity. I condemn you to a prison from which there is no escape; where mind and body operate separately and you are trapped in a shell of living clay for all time.”

The pirate lord squirmed in the grip of her construct, but his strength was already fading, his enchantments draining into her Spell-Eater Strain, to which she could use even through her constructs.

Rivulets of grey flowed outward from the wound; the construct’s material being funneled and replicated inside of the host’s Human cells. At the molecular level, she was altering his genetic composition; transmuting flesh into the unique substance that composed her body as well as other created homunculi.

His expression deadening, Kiromichi’s mental patterns altered, his cerebrum and cerebellum being telepathically separated. Kiromichi was still aware of his surroundings, but as promised he would be unable to act, unable to move. Unable to breathe. Encapsulated in a living prison she could restore and send to the frontline again and again.

Arteth had not moved, had not spoken, since they arrived. All her constructs were still as death. So she knew there was another intruder at the slightest sound that emerged from behind her. She smiled, and turned...

“Uncle.” Kaileena said coldly, turning to face him, her expression distant, as if she were sleepwalking.

His fellow soldiers of The Moon’s Eye approached unsteadily, weapons drawn.

“What....” he gasped, looking at the Human, now some manner of golem, “...What have you done?!”

Her smile widened, though her gaze remained distant, as if she were pondering something.

“It this what it feels like?” Kaileena mused, that smile hardening, becoming threatening, feral, “To lead fate, rather than being led by it? I must confess that I find it exhilarating.”

Niria scowled, “Is this your vaunted justice, then, Silkrit? You have enslaved him! And you have enslaved hundreds in this city!”

“Slavery?” Kaileena said, frowning thoughtfully, “...An interesting observation. Were these...“men” not already enslaved by their base instincts? I have come to realize that free will is a poison, leading us down paths to self-destruction. As it was with me, so it is with them...no longer.”

His captain tensed, sickened, “We had come to arrest you on the grounds of vandalizing Aurummn Calca and endangering innocent life...but now you compound those crimes! I hereby place you into our custody. Submit and return to Moonshadow, where you will face trial!”

“Trial?” Kaileena asked, no longer distant, “What trial was there for these men? Who killed my father? Who enslaved me? Who committed similar crimes against my people? I deny your justice. Attempt an arrest if you dare; I will find more subjects among you for the army I will raise to storm Darkmoor, then Moonshadow.”

“Kaileena...” Ken’ichi breathed, eyes watering, “Don’t do this...”

“It is already done.” Kaileena replied, her irises rounding, thousands of tiny reflective facets revealed in their depths.

While he screamed for them to stop, his allies rushed Kaileena, howling battle cries. Elurra and Vilaseth joined them, and with a heavy heart, he loosed Hrotti from its scabbard.

“Kaileena..” the one called Dur’Arteth gasped, and was promptly forgotten in the heat of battle.

A rush of heat blurred the air, and instantly there appeared twin Basilisk. Feather-winged snakes, one of the monstrous children of Tu’Narcuteth, the beasts were massive, dwarfing small houses. Their bodies scraped the ceiling. He forced his eyes not to meet theirs, lest he be frozen in stone forever.

He saw Vilaseth lunge, dagger leading, only to be stopped in his tracks by a telekinetic barrier. He doubled back, drawing a darksteel shortsword in his off hand, the blade of which detached from the handle, revealing a length of cord that snapped against that same barrier, the blade rebounding and gouging one of the Basilisk in the flank.

Elurra pierced that defense, and Kaileena slashed across her face with a clawed hand, all the while taking the brunt of the her twin slim-blades, the girl’s expression unchanging even as she was impaled.

Upon the fingers of Kaileena’s hand contacting her face, they sank into her flesh, and Elurra screamed, her veins tearing loose from her very body, appearing like the softer, tendril-like roots of a tree being pulled out of the dirt by hand.

Gravity inverted, and was instantly righted, as Kaileena barked out something indeterminate and defeated the Djinn’s spell. Elurra collapsed, twitching, covered in her own gore.

Niria capitalized on the moment Kaileena was distracted by thrusting forward with her monstrous cleaver as Vilaseth retreated with Elurra's twitching body. Four tendrils of malevolent energy; blood red intertwined with streaks of grey, burst from the girl’s outstretched forearm and closed about the weapon, and as her body connected to it her Spell-Eater Strain caused her to flare with rippling purple light.

Niria’s weapon, deprived of its enchantments, bent under the strain as the blood tendrils wound about each other and compressed, before it snapped in half.

Not hesitating at the destruction of her weapon, she collided with his ward, head-butted her, and sank a dirk into her midsection in one motion.

Sinking Hrotti into Basilisk flesh, Ken’ichi saw no more as he battled with his niece’s summoned creature.

He pulled the sword free, splattering himself in blood, before rolling under the whipping tail of the beast as it coiled like a mundane serpent.

Lunging, the winged snake caught the wind and descended faster than he might have expected. He’d never fought a Basilisk before...but instinctively, he angled Hrotti for its opened maw.

Dealing a lethal blow by impaling it through the back of the mouth, Ken’ichi hissed in pain as one of its shortsword-length fangs sank into his shoulder, and then cried out as its acidic spit flowed into the wound. He roared and threw himself bodily toward the other, which was engaged with warriors of The Moon’s Eye.

They, however, had not been prepared. One by one they fell under the gaze of the Basilisk, and as he watched, horrified, their elven and Silkrit flesh turned grey, hardening. Even as the serpent twisted to meet him and he severed the back half of its neck, it was too late...

“Kaileena?!” her uncle screamed, charging her, “What have you done?!”

She aborted his advance with a single, baleful stare.

“Expanded my resources...” she mused, completing her blood magicka even as the Elf Vilaseth went limp in her outstretched hand, having cornered him mid-retreat, his incongruous Blood-Forged enchantment perishing still-born as his throat constricted unto near-suffocation.

“...There is a reason why I transformed your friends into stone. I have vast knowledge and experience in golems and the like.”

As one, activated by her spell, the stone constructs came to life, their eyes burning the same bright violet light as her own. She released Vilaseth, and he fell beside Niria, whose anti-magicka enchantment had failed to disrupt the energies of the Phoenix Stone. Her flesh was already regenerating from the wound.

“You too, showed me kindness, uncle.” she told him, “And I have not forgotten. But I warn you; return to Moonshadow immediately. Take Elurra and Vilaseth with you, for they fought for my land and have my gratitude. But do not confront me again...or I will synthesize you as I would any others who dare to stand in my way. Inform Moonshadow as well what you have seen here. Let them know this world is mine now, and I am not to be trifled with.”

Then she looked over at the Elf Niria, “You, I will take as my prisoner, for you have given me great offense. Perhaps you should have spoken more carefully...”

Ignoring Arteth, who had not moved since the fighting began, she cocooned the woman in a net of telekinetic energy and teleported her to Higoi’s dungeon...where she would await her attentions.

“Who are you?” Arteth asked...and his reticence destroyed the last vestiges of her consciousness, validating her newfound philosophy.

“I am what I was created to be.” she replied coolly, “Surthath wanted this all along. I suppose he knew me better than you did... Await me in the tower. I have to leave another construct here to oversee my new army after I cull any remaining dissent in the city at large. As I have no need to synthesize noncombatants at this time, I will make this place a colony of Teikoku solely under my jurisdiction.”

He said nothing, made no attempt to leave, and her expression darkened further.

“That will be all.” she repeated, and with no rebuttal he went away via portal magic, a ripple of distorted air in his wake.