“My lord, I am your humble servant.” the robed Magister began, his face twisted in reverence as he knelt. The former king seemed to glance over him, hardly even noticing the man who had ruined a nation. “Y-you had promised this one a seat at your side in the new world, my lord.”

There was a seething pause as Sin turned to face the Grand Magister, those black eyes settling on the man’s face. “I remember what I said. You did as I commanded, and you have sacrificed greatly to prove yourself.” The Magister’s face seemed to brighten with hope as he looked up, only to fall at the next words.

“You were a fool to do so. And I have no further use for fools.” With hardly a wave of his hand, the black-shrouded king turned away. The moment that he did so, waiting Skal’ai burst into motion with a single-minded hunger, tearing into the screaming Grand Magister with insatiable viciousness. In a few moments, the thrashing figure fell still and silent, joining the other piles of bones and sinew on the ground.

There were only three figures in the dark-shrouded hall. Joy was frozen on his side, his lungs burning for air and his vision swimming as his body failed him. Sister was collapsed behind him; he could hear her gasping for breath even though he could not move to see. And the third—he looked like a corpse. Fear ran through Joy’s heart as he wished not to believe, as he hoped it was not true. Yet he knew it to be so, that this man was Sin. He felt the dead in the back of his mind suddenly surge to the front, their rage unbidden and unrestrained. Sin wakes again. Now is the time for our vengeance, scion. Their words were like a crashing storm, like a torrential wave flooding over him.

Sin gestured for him to come, a single bony finger extended. He felt the Skal’ai wrap around him, numbing him as they slowly dragged him forward. Small wounds wept frozen blood as they did so, until his fur was covered with innumerable scars. He needed to breathe; his body was long past burning and now merely swimming in numb distortion. The dead were screaming in his ear, screaming for him to stand and fight and bleed and kill and a thousand other things that bled into a river of wrath and anger flooding his thoughts. They were muddled and foggy, distant and too faint for him to understand. His vision was fading to black, his heartbeat feeling faint. He needed to breathe.

There was a sudden thump as he fell to the ground, the shackles around him suddenly falling away. In an instant, he dragged in a desperate breath, feeling his body scream in relief as his greedy lungs gasped out for more. He struggled to prop himself up on his arms, chest heaving as he struggled to find the strength to live. In bleary confusion, he looked around him in hopes of orienting himself.

There was a fire in the midst of the room, a blazing pyre that had been ignited. He was confused—where did the flame come from? He thought it was a star, perhaps, so brightly did it burn until his eyes watered from gazing too long. It threw back the Skal’ai, their bodies turning to hissing smoke as light and smoke consumed them. It had burned away his shackles, filled his chilled and numb body with warmth and the heat of life. It had filled him with renewed vigor and hope, had filled him with newfound life.

Yet as his vision cleared and the scene before him came into focus, he realized that it was no mere star. He saw Sister inside the light—no, rather, the light was pouring off of her skin. She was burning vahma, he realized. Burning it at an astonishing rate until the strands of white had caught flame and became a ball of flame. Her hair whipped madly, her expression one of intense pain and bliss as she strode forth.

“I might not have much time left, but I’ll burn you to ash.” she whispered, her hand suddenly whipping in a motion too fast to even register. The vahma augmented her motions, loaned strength to her weak frame. From her hands spat forth a glint of steel that buried itself in Sin’s shocked frame. The once-king had enough time to turn his shoulder, so that the blade found itself in his flesh instead of the mantle. Had it flown true, perhaps it would have shattered a blackstone.

The blackstones, Joy realized with a desperate hope. He is protecting the blackstones. The dead were howling at him to break the two blackstones, to free their trapped brothers. But as he pressed down his eyelids, forcing open his Mind’s Eye with a ragged gasp, he realized why.

He saw the trapped souls, so many trapped inside that each blackstone was a nucleus of brilliant white. Yet equally present were the chains, bonds of black that trapped each tormented soul inside. There were thousands of Shai’mon inside the blackstones, and he watched as their spirits were drained by Sin. He uses their power, scion. He is weak now, unused to this body, and they fight his will. You must kill him before his strength returns, before his control over them returns! The dead filled him with urgency, with a sudden rush of strength that brought him to his feet. He charged forward with a roar of rage, claws swinging wide only for them to close in on nothing.

Yet they had not missed. Rather, Joy had watched as those claws passed through Sin’s body as if it was but dust in the air, as if he was trying to catch the wind. It was then that he realized with a sinking fear that they would not work—neither claw nor fang nor sword nor bow nor spear nor blade would find its way through that fallen thing’s heart.

Yet Sister’s blade had. And as he watched, she threw herself forward, a tongue of flame whipping along the ground before spreading up Sin’s leg. Joy watched, astonished, as Sin did not resist. The flame spread across his body with gluttonous abandon, only to be suddenly snuffed out as the Skal’ai threw themselves into him with the sound of crackling wind. They were dying, he realized, using their own bodies to put out the flame. And as hungry as the flame was, it too was swallowed by the torrent of shadow until not even embers remained.

As Sister let loose another blast of white soulfire, Sin dodged deftly, the shadows lending him speed as he fled. Over and over Sister hurled flame, each one striking the walls of the palace and making the shadows there fall away. Soon the tapestries and statues were wreathed by brilliant soulfire, the flame spreading like oil over any surface it could find. Yet it did not spread to Sin; he ran on a tide of Skal’ai. The shadows lent him their bodies for safety as he evaded the flames, but he did not return the attacks. His face was twisted with focus, strained with effort, but did not harm Sister in the slightest.

He is fighting our brothers, stifling their strength! Hurry scion, before he is done!

Joy felt the pool of mahji inside of him, depleted and near-empty, but it would have to be enough. Its ribbons flowed through his right arm, wrapping around his claws until they were sheathed in purple light. More mahji sank into his legs, loaning his strength and speed as he vaulted over the rubble of a falling statue, his sword and helmet covered in soulfire. His jump took him behind Sin, behind that roiling carpet of Skal’ai. The shadows must have warned him, for he turned his head to see Joy flying through the air.

Bleed, damn you! The thought was all he had as struck the once-king with all the force of his flight. His muzzle, his chest, they all flew through the specter and for a moment his heart sank. But his arm, covered in mahji and with all his hate, dug into Sin’s back with a jarring crunch. There was an unholy wail, the sound of a thousand screams compressed into one, and he realized that it was Sin’s scream.

Black blood and shadows poured out of the wound, the impact throwing Sin to the floor. Sister did not miss the opportunity, unleashing a torrent of flame over the both of them as ran closer. The soulfire poured over demon and shade alike, Joy screaming in pain and anger and hate and wrath and rage and desperation and a hundred other emotions that poured through his veins like magma. Mahji covered his claws, coated his teeth as he tore into Sin with a animalistic savagery. The soulflame ate away at him as well, but he cared not. Vengeance, screamed the dead, and it was all that he felt.

Yet as fatigue wore him away as his swipes slowed, he realized that something was wrong. Every wound healed in an instant, black shadow knitting ghostflesh back together. And as the last strands of mahji fell away from his claws, he realized that it had been for naught. Sin stood up with a deliberate anger, Skal’ai flaring around him like a cloak as he faced Sister’s burning figure. Our brothers! The dead screamed in wrath and defilement. He steals their strength! His dominion over them grows!

Sister’s hair was white, her skin withered as she lunged forwards. Sin tried to evade to the side, but a blade of white-hot soulfire burned through his arm. The flesh healed itself, yet Joy noticed that it was slower this time. Sister’s movements were slowed as well, however, weary from the effort and the strain and her impending death. Her life was an hourglass now, and the grains on the top were few enough to be counted on one hand.

Her hand buried itself in Sin’s stomach with a sudden blow, the shade coughing up shadow as the soulfire began to devour him from inside. With her other hand, Sister gripped her dagger, still buried in Sin’s shoulder. While its flame had gone out, the instant that her hand touched it the steel blazed alight once more. It left a ghastly line of white along Sin’s face, from cheek to mouth as the shade turned and rolled away.

Sin fought the flame, Skal’ai working desperately to stay alive, and a fierce hope gripped Joy as he realized that Sister was close to striking the final blow—so damnably close. The end was in sight as he stood up with shaky legs, intending to burn his own vahma if it was what was needed. Soulfire licked away at his limbs, the heat driving air from his lungs. A little more, came the shuddering thought. His claws were reaching out to a distant ledge, reaching out for life. Yet, he realized with broken hope that his reach fell short.

“BURN!” cried out Sister in madness, throwing rampant flame at the statues around the hall. “BURN!” she screamed with a hoarse voice, torching with Skal’ai dancing on the walls with desperate soulfire. “BURN!” she howled as her flame covered Joy, setting his flesh alight with undiscerning fire. Madness and hysteria had swallowed her eyes, reason fleeing as she began to burn all near her. Her lifeforce was running out, the river trickling dry, and every blast ate away more and more. Over and over she hurled tongues of white, until her strength slowed and the fire burned low.

And guttered out.

Sin strode forward then like a striking snake, his bony hand grasping her throat and holding her up. The flames around her had already died away, her skin smoking and withered. She was laughing with madness as she began to choke, laughing as shadows dug into her flesh. She was laughing with madness as her body began to fall apart. She was laughing as her fingers crumbled into dust. She was laughing still as Sin slashed with a hand, and her flesh from right hip to left shoulder fell away and crumbled on the ground.

She was laughing still as she threw a hand of her own around Sin’s own throat. She was out of air by then, merely twitching and frothing with a lung full of blood. Her eyes danced with fading madness in those final moments; they danced with a horrific clarity as she decided her fate. “Die, you crow-cursed bastard.” she gurgled, her wide green eyes suddenly burning white, her hand not letting Sin move.

Joy watched, unable to move, burned alive by her own flame as Sister’s eyes shot out flame. He watched as her body burst alight with one last surging pyre of soulfire. He watched as brilliance shone through her failing flesh, turning her body to dust with blazing heat, turning the Skal’ai around her into smoke and ash. He watched as the flame seared through Sin’s throat, a spear of fire that shot out of the other side.

And as he watched, her gaze met his. There was no more madness there; she died aware of every last moment. Those white eyes burned with a sadness and a relief that made him wish to weep for the first time in his life. Joy felt nothing as he watched Sister die, as he watched her mouth move in that strange tongue of man. It was a tongue that was more familiar to him now, after all those days by her side.

Brother, she mouthed, before her lips turned to smoking ash.