Pit's words barely registered before the doorway of the chamber was thrown open, and a patch of swirling darkness shot out into the light. "Stop them!" Klzix shouted, recoiling from the dagger in Felix's grip. "No! Don't engage!" Felix flared his Agility and ripped across the dream pool, shattering the thick layer of ice behind him, but not before the guards tried to close with the dark cloud. To them it was no more than a shadow, but Felix could see the being's insanely swift moves as it wove through the Yttins' grasp. A thin, flexible blade slashed around them in a whirlwind of strikes that the guards had no defense against. They all fell in a spray of dark crimson blood. The shadow took off. “No you don’t! Thunderwing!” Pit screeched, and blasted past Felix, streaming afterimages of crackling lightning. “Mantle of Tumult! Howl at the Dark!” A ear-piercing cry filled the corridor, stabbing at Felix’s toughened senses and it wasn’t even aimed his way. The shadow, on the other hand, stumbled and crashed into an alcove filled with delicate pottery. Pit was on the assailant in an instant, a veritable storm coursing over his sleek Body while lightning spat from his wings and tail. “Hurricane Rasp!” Black talons ripped through rug and stone, missing the dark assassin by inches. Their thin blade flashed upward, arcing toward Pit’s neck. He let it glance harmlessly off his Master Tier barding, and lunged for the kill. “Impenetrable Caul!” the shadow croaked out, and a thick, bloody wrapping slashed across Pit’s face and helmet, binding to it. “Ahh!” Pit reared back, clawing at his beak and eyes, and the assassin slipped from his grasp. In a fraction of a second they were up on their feet and running. Until Felix tackled them through a wall. They screamed and Felix growled, yet both of their voices were drowned out by the absolute clamor of falling masonry and shattering support beams. They hit the ground and rolled, pulverizing a couch and end table inside yet another parlor. Felix fetched back onto his feet only a breath before the assassin, which was plenty of time to marshal his Skills. Adamant Discord! Lightning stabbed between them, flashing back and forth like a strobe light, while the shadowy figure was wracked by painful seizures. Felix’s Will clamped down atop them, a vice of Mind and Spirit, while his Body walked cautiously forward. The assassin’s own Body was still obscured by a misty sheath of shadow Mana, so tight and thick that nothing more than a vaguely humanoid shape could be made out. Even the lightning failed to illuminate it. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Felix asked. "Your Agility and Dexterity seem to be really high, so you didn't miss me. You were aiming at the shaman. Why?" The shadow didn’t answer. They only struggled harder against the riotous pain and Felix’s indelible grasp. “Fine, be that way.” Felix reached forward, and grabbed the figure by their neck. “Chthonic Tribute.” All at once, the shadow around the figure fled, sucked completely within Felix's channels. The shroud of darkness was ripped apart, revealing lacquered body armor and a half-mask that was entirely familiar. Eyes of milky white stared at him balefully, and their squared chin was thrust forward in challenge. Felix clicked his tongue. “Sworn. You were right, Pit.” “Of course I was,” his Companion answered, picking his way across the rubble. His forepaws were crimson with vibrant Mana, and his helmet and beak were caked with hardened, fleshy strings. “I know that cold steel smell.” The Sworn were an order of assassins for hire, though their job might not always be to kill. The only experience either Felix or Pit had with the order was Ilia, a Sworn assassin he'd faced off against. She had been formidable, but this one had very nearly outran Pit and himself. At their current, frankly overpowered level of advancement. If neither of them had been there, then this person could have killed any number of people under Felix's care. “What is your name, Sworn?” he asked, and his grip loosed on their larynx. A little. The Sworn’s mouth opened, but instead of teeth and tongue, their insides were just an utter void. A breath vibrated up through Felix’s clasp, rattling out of the assassin’s dark craw like a corpse’s final scream. What came out wasn’t a sound so much as a wave of pressure that squealed against Felix’s senses. He jerked backward, his grip unmoved, but the Sworn wasn’t done. The yowl ripped its void-filled mouth, tearing its cheeks and jaw like paper to reveal a greater darkness within. Fissures appeared, crazing their flesh and dark armor, as the dissonant tenor of its cry tore it apart. Warning sparked along his Affinity, told in twisted song, and Felix threw the Sworn back, into the nearby fireplace. With a concussive blast, the assassin ripped apart, exploding into dissonant tremors. Jagged tongues tore through the stone mantle, eating it away in a flash, leaving nothing of the Sworn but a fading pillar of smoke. Pit trilled in distress, his brilliant wings outspread and crackling with various strings of light. "Where are they?" "Gone," Felix said. He stepped closer to the fireplace, close enough that he winced from the deep fissures. They were harsh and atonal, not unlike the touch of Primordial but also very different. More...acrid. "I don't even think that was a real person. Look." He waved his hand through the plume of smoke. "Mana. Essence. I think...I think we need to talk to Zara about this." Guards piled into the room, a mixture of Felix's own Shadows and more of the Yttin. Shaman Klzix was among them, looking pale but otherwise composed. "You need to get somewhere safe. This assassin wasn't sent for me." "What? For me? Why?" Klzix traded glances with his fellow Yttin, but all of them seemed confused and more than a little perturbed. "Because as far as everyone is concerned, you lead the Yttin. And I have a feeling that someone's memories aren't so short as they like to pretend." Felix was guessing at that, but his Mind teased out several potential scenarios and it felt the most likely. "The Sworn don't just kill people. They're paid. That means they have a client, and that client wants you dead." And they didn't attack until I asked you to be my Chancellor, he finished silently. No need to spread that around yet. "They...they fear us so much?" Klzix's voice was awash in confusion and a touch of strange wonder. "We have done nothing." "You represent change," Felix said. "This is your moment to choose who you wish to be, Klzix. You heard my offer. I will expect an answer in the morning." Not waiting for a response, Felix nodded to the Yttin guards and his own Shadows. "See that the shaman is kept safe until I send for him, okay? Maryk and Waryn, get Lady Zara and Atar and Alister." "At once, my Lord. Where shall I send them? Here?" the Henaari asked him. "No." Felix wiped his hands off against his trousers and stepped away from the fireplace. "Have them meet me at the library." Evie stood atop the rain-slicked rooftop and cursed in time with the rainfall. "Bloody burning ash and broken teeth. Damn nightfall. Ain't no moons to see, ain't no Paladins, and now we're huntin' damn ghosts." "Calm yourself, kid. And tone it down. Not gonna find shit if you scare 'em all off." Evie' scowled over her shoulder, through the moonless dark and curtains of rain. Lightning crawled across the sky, reflecting briefly off a shorter man in a oilskin cloak. "Glad you're feelin' better enough to sass, Harn. But we're not gonna find any of 'em. You know how the Sworn work. They're not popping up and then sticking around." "They failed their job," Harn pointed out. His face was covered by his usual frog-mouthed helm, making his tired voice echo faintly. He was a bit shaky still, having just emerged from his forge-trance not two glasses past. He'd pressed full on into Adept though, and Evie held that was worth any amount of discomfort. Two new axes hung at his waist, the final, ultimate expression of his Tempering at the smithy. Evie wasn't sure what had happened to the old ones, but also didn't really care. The new pair were Adept Tier weapons, shaped with a bearded blade and a vicious spike from the back, the metal folded with so much Mana that they almost glowed in the dark. "Sworn don't abide failure. They'll keep comin' till they get their man. That's why we're out here." "I know that." Evie glanced over the rooftop, eyeing the other members of the Fiend's Claw that had joined them. The more agile of the Blades and Fists followed her, making up their hitsquad. Felix had asked Evie to head up a team to hunt down the assassin he'd dispatched, and she'd jumped at the chance. She'd taken out one Sworn before, but it was never too late to add another notch on her belt. However, she hadn't expected a surge in the ever-present storm. "Still. Couldn't handle killin' one shaman. This is overkill, ain't it?" "Not if they're as strong as Felix suspects," Harn said. They were both talking quietly enough that the rain covered most of their words. Someone in Journeyman or Adept Tier focused in Perception might have heard them, but the chance was low, and they had sight lines in almost every direction. He glanced over the edge of the roof, into the warren of alleys below. "A projection ain't somethin' everyone can do. It's a specialized Skill set, and I've only ever heard about it in stories. Sworn that use it don't usually get caught in the act, let alone thwarted. That crab-man is lucky Felix was there." "Yeah, well, the weather sucks, is all." Evie flashed several handsigns over the edge of the roof and waited three heartbeats. A patch of darkness raised blue fingers the size of her head and signed back. "Ari is saying we should move from here. What do you think, Harn?" "Callin' the Frost Giant Battlelord by his first name? That's good." Evie scowled, harder than ever, but Harn only laughed at patted her gently on the back. "You can't go around clutchin' hate too long. Glad to see you movin' on." Evie only stared at him, Willing the armored fool to change the subject. She wasn't certain how she felt about the Frost Giants any longer. Harn was right though, and the hate had thawed a bit since Tempering her Body. It hadn't completely gone away, and Evie still felt intensely uncomfortable being around them too long, but she had found some common ground with Battlelord Ari and his men in recent days. They had accompanied her and Vess on many of their hunts for the Paladins, and had saved her life once or twice. She made sure to save theirs right back, and more often for good measure, just so the scales balanced right. Now the giants had followed her lead and joined her newest hunt. Ari and his contingent were cloaked in the biggest oilskins she'd ever seen, looking like someone put a tarp on a boulder. They stalked for beans, but Evie could admit they were quieter than most Untempered. Most. When Evie didn't respond at all to his probing, Harn sighed. "I suppose we move on. Let's shift closer into the district. I imagine the Sworn is staying somewhere fancy. Their kind like their nice things." "Fine. We move then," Evie said, and made the signs. Behind her, the Talon stood from relaxed, readied crouches and loped across the rooftops. Below, large patches of wet darkness slipped forward, ghosting down the alleyways near the skydocks. "You comin', old man?" "Aye, I am," Harn grumbled. His fingers traced idly across his axes, as if he were eager to use them. "Let's hope we find them before they find us." Xavi slid down the flooded thoroughfare, his boots well and truly soaked. He was thankful that he still had his oilskin, though the wind had tried to snatch that from him a time or two as well. The cloak was all that kept his prize safe and dry, and without his prize Xavi knew he would not be believed. Splashes sounded from further up the street, followed by curses and whoops as his fellow messengers ran their own missives to their masters. Unlike Xavi, they dashed through the moonless dark, seemingly careless of the rain and treacherous streets. Why are they so cavalier? Don't they know what they have? Xavi had seen them all receive one, the same as him. The man that gave it to them was strange and terrifying, and said that they had to protect the prize, to make sure each and every one made it to their masters within the glass. Xavi hadn't questioned it; he feared being late, for what it might mean. For what the man might do to him. So the messenger stuttered into a run again, his boots squishing unpleasantly with every step. At least he was close to his master's mansion, and in a few more heartbeats he'd reached the imposing gate. Xavi banged on its iron exterior, his fist aching from the exuberance of it. "Manny! Manny let me in!" A small panel slid to the side with a metal-on-metal shriek. "Burning ashes! Who's knocking at my gate at this hour? Xavi? That you?" "Yes, sir! It is! Can you let me in?" Manny shook his head, and while Xavi couldn't see more than his eyes, he knew his thick, drooping mustache was wobbling with his head. "No no, can't do that. No one in or out after nightfall. Master's orders." "Manny, sir, please! Tell the master that I have a missive for him. From the Autarch!" Xavi practically begged the guard, trying to say everything with just his wide, limpid eyes. It was a look that had often gotten him second helpings in the lesser kitchens, and sometimes worked to get him into place he shouldn't be. This, however, was not such a place. He needed to deliver the prize and he was running out of time. "Please!" Manny groaned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, just stop with the avum eyes, ya manipulative bastard!" The gate clanked and squealed as Manny pulled it open enough for Xavi to squeeze through. "In ya git!" "Thank you!" he shouted, bolting past Manny and into the servant's entrace of the mansion. Quick as a flash and not stopping to chat with the servants in the gathering hall, Xavi stripped off his oilskin and tossed it onto a wooden peg. He barely stopped to adjust the collar of his mussed up shirt, or to change his water-logged boots, and instead tracked a squishing trail of rainwater with every second step. Eventually, he came to the outside of the dining chamber, where the sound of boisterous laughter and soft music filled the air. Two more liveried guards where there, dressed down but bearing their weapons. Xavi met their eyes and nodded. "Message for Master Rellest. From the Autarch," he repeated. The guards traded a look and waved him through. Inside the chamber were several dozen guests, all of them regulars to the master's parties. They were scions of the various noble and merchant Houses in Ahkestria, the cream of the crop and future ruling elite among the City of Embers. Or they had been, Xavi gathered, before the monster showed up and changed everything. Xavi navigated his way through the crowd, moving swiftly until he came upon a long table bearing many ornate chairs. At the head of the table, engaged in a story he was telling, was Master Rellest. "Sir? I have a missive, a gift, from the Autarch. Sir," Xavi said. He'd never said that much to the master before, not in his entire life, and he felt proud to have gotten through it so smoothly. He held up the prize, and found that his arms only trembled a little bit. "He sent me with this." A hush fell over the crowd, and Master Rellest stared at Xavi's hands with the strangest expression. Almost as if he was afraid the thing was going to come to life and attack him. Which was ridiculous; there was no change his master was thinking such a far-fetched idea. The prize was a small sculpture of a muscular man with long limbs and strange claws, all fashioned by an unnerving magic. Xavi had seen the statues being created, one at a time, and couldn't believe how smooth the thing felt. "The Autarch made this himself. I—I don't know how," Xavi admitted into the quiet. He'd never felt comfortable with long silences. He lifted the statuette and showed his master the large, round bottom of it, where words were inscribed. "It says, 'Dawn. Temple square. All are invited to the raising of your new Chancellor.'" Xavi's Master went beet red as he heard the words, and a wrenching sound filled the air. The silver goblet in his hand dropped to the table, crumbled out of shape and leaking red wine like blood. "Sir?" Xavi asked. "Assemble our people. All of House Rellest," his master said in response. Much to Xavi's surprise and worry, his master sounded...shaken. "The Autarch commands our presence at dawn. Be ready. "All of you."