Come along dear, I didn’t spend so much time on you so you can hide in the corner.

Kita shuffled towards Janaxia, her eyes down and her shoulders hunched, even managing some semblance of balance in her heels. It had taken some delving through the wealth of outfits on display, but Janaxia had managed to find a few that were suited to Kita’s frame and skin tone, her dusky pallor and uncared-for skin not the most appealing combination. She was clearly far more used to her baggy and ill-fitted wizard’s robes, twisting her shoulders awkwardly in the fine fabric. She had been plucking at it, trying to shift it to cover more, until Janaxia had ordered her to stop.

The cosmetics helped somewhat, making her face look less pinched and narrow, giving a blush of colour to her lips and cheeks. She still looked rather more cadaverous and consumptive than was either fetching or fashionable, but that might pass for popular with those of a more artistic bent, or with a penchant for that aesthetic. At the least, she was obedient now, not rebelling despite her clear discomfort.

Janaxia was arm-in-arm with Anytha as he walked, half-listening to his chatter with a dully-dressed merchant; some trade deal involving large shipments of weaponry, it all sounded dreadfully unexciting. Kita was hovering behind, unsure how to proceed, flinching whenever someone brushed up against her in the crowded ballroom. She had even been asked to dance a few times, and had simply stood there, gawping and unsure how to proceed, giving every appearance of being an ignorant country bumpkin! For a descendant of a great bloodline, she really was something of a failure. Janaxia had been forced to transmit words to her, almost puppeting her in a stammered, but polite refusal. The poor thing almost certainly couldn’t dance, either!

The music changed, from a slow and sombre tune to something far more upbeat, some of the crowd clapping along. The dancers shifted and changed, some coming off the dance floor and being replaced by those with more vigour. Semari dragged a nobleman, not entirely unwilling, onto the dancefloor, although only the edge, staying close to Janaxia, almost as if she were keeping an eye on her. Vrintar was easy to see, her bulk standing out amongst the rest, having refused a few dances herself. Tamura was dressed for business, although her armour was finely polished, and even that wasn’t enough to deter the occasional bravo from asking for her hand.

Janaxia tightened her hand on Anytha’s arm, pulling him towards the dancefloor. He laughed and accepted, the crowd parting ways for them. He wrapped an arm around her back and they began to dance, his body tight against hers, stronger than he looked.

One benefit of his position was that they were given the space to dance, without having to suffer through being crammed in amongst the crowd. It was easy to let herself be spun and twisted through the movements, the golden chains around her horns clinking and shifting, medallions striking against bone. Janaxia lost herself in the movement and the music, the bright lights and the thrum of the crowd, while trying to ignore the disruption that Semari was causing, as she picked up and spun her own partner. Hopefully he was hardy enough to endure such treatment!

But Anytha was a talented dancer himself, clearly trained in such matters, and also enjoying them, his grip tight around her body. It had been a pleasurable time, sampling the delights that wealth could bring, with fabulous meals and drinks, as well as the pleasures of the clothing on offer. And trying to entice Kivata, or “Kita” to use her new name, into sampling the true pleasures that nobility should bring. But even the finest dresses of silk and samite didn’t seem to tempt her, although she wasn’t twitching and shaking quite so much whenever Janaxia touched her. And she did look better now, even attracting a few admiring looks and glances – although she was clearly not in the same league as Janaxia, she was at least passable, if it weren’t for her general demeanour of terror, looking as though she were about ready to flee at any moment. Although that could be appealing in its own manner – doubtless some folk would like to be her saviour to protect her from whatever she was afraid of. Although at the moment, she was stood awkwardly on the edge of the dancefloor, hunched up, her presence so faint as to be almost invisible.

The music came to an end, and they held tightly to each other for a moment, bodies pressed tightly together, looking into each other’s eyes. The audience clapped in appreciation, some of it at least clearly aimed at them. As was traditional, they separated and bowed at each other, as others started to assemble, clearly angling for the next dance. Janaxia weighed up the options, before settling on a young man, wearing tightly-cut leather trousers and a shirt, half the buttons undone, a golden ring embossed with a sunburst design bright on his finger, some design painted onto his chest, catching and glinting in the light.

Anytha chose a petite and plump woman, all wrapped up in fluff and furs, their calloused hands at odds with the rest of their appearance – she must have to actually work in some fashion. The next dance started, the young man smiling at her, guiding her through the steps. It was a close one, their bodies pushed tightly together, especially when he had to support most of her weight, one of her legs up in the air, his arms wrapped around her and holding her up.

He brushed her face close against hers, his lips close to her ear. She could feel his warmth, the breath and pulse of his body as he whispered, smiling in anticipation of some sweet nothing. ‘Light shall purge darkness.’

One of his hands moved, and she wobbled trying to get her legs back underneath her, still off balance. Steel flashed in the light as a blade came into his hand. As it stabbed forward, she called up her powers, energy flickering around her body. It wasn’t enough to deflect the attack fully, as it punched through a whorl of darkness, pain erupting in her side as the blade penetrated her skin. She could feel blood, hot and thick, her blood, welling up onto her skin, as he drew the blade back for another stab.

She twisted her fingers and incanted a few syllables of power, feeling energy, raw and potent, welling up inside of her, channelling itself through her eyes. The world tinted itself in shades of darkness, as she tried to twist herself out of the way of another stab, feeling it bite into her flesh, the pain intense. A scream cut the air and it took Janaxia a moment to realise it wasn’t hers, but damn, it hurt.

Then she focused her will, sending out a pulse of darkness from her eyes. He looked back, contempt changing to terror, a stiletto knife dropping from his hand, before he dropped her to the ground and began to flee.

The music started to halt, as chaos spread through the band, discordant notes echoing amongst the audience, now starting to panic as well. Janaxia picked herself up, hoping the searing pain in her side wasn’t as bad as it felt, despite the warm, sticky blood she could feel oozing onto her clothing, sticking it to her body in a most unpleasant fashion. Most of the crowd obviously couldn’t see what had happened, some still milling about and trying to dance, hoping the music would resume.

She could see her attacker, trying to move through the crowd. Semari had thrown her own dance partner aside and jumped upwards, and was now dangling from a lantern, swinging back and forth to build up momentum. Vrintar was shoving her way through the crowd herself, as various bodyguards tried to react, unsure quite what had happened, not yet willing to draw their own weapons, Tamura amongst them.

Janaxia winced at the pain, but then raised her hand and focused, trying to draw a line towards the man that wouldn’t involve hitting a guest, as the light swung crazily thanks to Semari’s motions. She snapped off a blast, missing and taking a chunk out of a pillar, fragments of marble splintering under the assault.

She moved forward, glaring at the first person that approached, feeling darkness well up within herself. They stopped then stumbled forward, falling into a swoon, dropping to the floor in an unconscious stupor. Panic was starting to rise amongst the crowd, clearly aware that something untoward was happening, the less brave backing away towards their bodyguards, the more foolish drawing their own weapons, although most probably had little idea how to use them.

Semari dropped down, slicing through the air with her unnerving agility, vaulting off another pillar before launching into a flying kick. He threw himself to the side, just in time to dodge the attack, Semari slamming into a metal sculpture and breaking it, the over-balanced top half falling to the ground with a loud crash.

As the crash sounded out, full chaos exploded, screams and shouts echoing around the space. Janaxia tried to push through the crowd, glaring at a guard that tried to bar her path, sending him thudding to the ground.

This low down, it was hard to see where her attacker had gone. But it was easy to spot Vrintar, surrounded by a bubble of empty space as a heat haze flickered into life around her, hot enough to drive people back. Janaxia shoved her way through, glad of the less cramped space, even though the heat emanating from Vrintar prickled her skin, making her wound hurt even more. She winced, wishing Stathis were close by, her presence normally soothing.

Vrintar looked at Janaxia, her eyes burning with an inner power. ‘Old flame of yours?’

‘Most assuredly not, I don’t believe I have ever met him before in my life!’

She chuckled. ‘Well, you can’t be that badly injured if you’re complaining. Semari may have caught him.’ Vrintar moved forward, the crackling, sizzling heat moving with her, candles visibly melting as she moved, the crowd drawing back to let her pass, an aura of piercing warmth ensuring no-one wanted to get close.

Moving in Vrintar’s wake was a lot easier, as general confusion erupted, blades getting drawn, despite most not having any idea of what was happening. A body rose into the air before slamming back down, as the crowd parted enough for Janaxia to see Semari in the middle of a chaotic brawl. It seemed to have gotten confused as to quite who was fighting whom, several of the bodyguards (not unnaturally, based upon her style and demeanour) having decided that Semari was an interloper and fighting her, while Janaxia’s attacker had managed to break free of the scrum and was fleeing towards the exit.

Janaxia thrust her hands forward, calling up eldritch blasts and targeting people within the convulsing fight, sending them sprawling backwards, easing the pressure on Semari and letting her knock away one of her own attackers. As Vrintar advanced, her burning aura made its presence felt, the fighters glancing behind themselves and finding discretion to be the better part of valour.

This gave Janaxia the space she needed to push forward herself, slipping past Vrintar and feeling sweat bead and prickle on her skin, thrusting out a hand and blasting back another attack, knocking a portly and over-armoured gentleman into a table of food, which collapsed under his weight. Semari was a blur of fists and feet, her strikes slamming against armour, twisting around blades, as she twisted her leg between that of an attacker, sending them stumbling.

As Janaxia ran outside, the breeze from the ocean was like a slap to the face, large lanterns burning brightly. The man was still running, the guards on the front entrance looking at him in confusion, the sound of the brawl inside only just now able to be heard out here. The man glanced behind himself and saw Janaxia, a look of terror and panic rising on his face.

Janaxia gave chase, as best she could, her clothing ill-suited to such affairs, to say nothing of the wound in her side, blood still oozing out. She ran around the side of the dance hall, to the inevitable dank alley, a few servants ferrying around garbage, a rank and sour smell heavy in the air. Janaxia flung a few bolts ahead of herself, one of them clipping her attacker’s legs, sending him stumbling and staggering, having to support himself against a stone railing.

She splashed through a puddle, feeling dank, muddy, hopefully-water splash against her leg. There was no time to clean it off though, as he recovered enough to start running, out across a narrow bridge, a canal gleaming darkly beneath. Janaxia focused, shooting more bolts and making him slow again. She was close now, close enough to see his eyes, wide with terror as he looked at her approaching.

As she bore down on him, he backed away more slowly, his knife shining brightly in the moonlight, stained with her blood.

‘The light shall prevail!’

He raised the knife again, Janaxia raising her arms to protect herself, before he turned the blade around, stabbing it into his throat, his breath exhaling in a final, pained gasp. He sagged backwards, tumbling over the railing and crashing into the water beneath with a splash.

Semari caught up, barely even panting despite her exertion. Janaxia let herself sink against the railing herself, tiredness starting to rise within herself. ‘Wow, you made him kill himself. That’s new. And kinda creepy.’

‘I did no such thing! He cut his own throat. And, rather inconveniently, fell into the water. He needs to be fished out, and Kita may be able to determine something.’

‘Well, I’m not pulling him out. Dead bodies in water are really gross. Any idea why he wanted you dead? Or does he just not like people with horns?’

‘He spoke of “the light” – perhaps some form of cult activity, or religious fanaticism?’ Now she wasn’t moving, the adrenaline was fading, and the wound starting to hurt intensely. She carefully pressed her hand against it, feeling how sticky and heavy her clothing was, hissing in pain. ‘I think it may be rather deep. I do hope…’ She took a deep breath, her vision wavering for a moment. ‘…That someone has healing spells.’ Beneath her, she saw the body bob up, limb and flaccid, fish already drifting close in interest.

It didn’t take long for others to catch up, aides and attendants fussing around, some healing lotions and unguents being applied, her body going numb as she let herself succumb to their ministrations, falling into a half-doze.