“For the powerful, crimes are those that others commit.”

― Noam Chomsky, Imperial Ambitions

The blood slowly spread like a black mirror and the snowflakes sank into it and dissolved.

“The prince is dead!”

“Cease fighting!”

Matane the gorgon licked her lips and lowered her head a hint of displeasure in her eyes- She so rarely got to play to the fullest. Ducking as the knight facing her slashed in her direction, more perfunctory than determined, she straightened again and withdrew the power of her gaze.

All around her the fighting began to trickle off and an uneasy silence spread only broken by the moans and crying of the wounded. Down in the stadium, the fighting with the undead went on but seemed remote not only with the physical distance separating them.

The wounded Tharus, horribly burned by the light stumbled back and withdrew behind the other knights and nobles who quickly made way for the burned and bloody hulk.

“You have lost.” Heloise looked at the assembled nobles before her.

“You...you killed him!” The heavyset noble that had started the whole messy fight stuttered.

“Yes- and?” Heloise was not in the mood to quibble.

“But...he was the crown prince!”

She ignored him and turned to Lieseleta saying softly, “You should say something or the fighting might well resume.” After seeing her pale shocked face she squeezed her arm and injected a bit of light mana into her niece.

Lieseleta gazed at her fallen brother and the cold seemed to spread into her chest, “Cease fighting and surrender yourself.” Hearing the shouted orders from below her lips formed a joyless smile and added, “When the army reaches us it will be too late to hope for any leniency.”

The eyes of many nobles contained calculation as they heard her speech and one or two decisively threw down their weapons followed by more and more. The knights and royal guard were even more at a loss and grinding their teeth followed hesitantly.

In the air magister Illimen breathed hard and clenched his fists. His antagonist the master of the tower showed deep burns and his robes were nearly gone. Face contorted in pain he panted.

Illimen shouted, “Give up, Lordrum. Spare us both the pain.”

The wind whispered around them and drove the snowflakes into their faces. The temperatures were still abnormal so early in winter.

The towermaster spat some curdled blood and lifted his head. “Mh. And what if I don’t.”

“Then we continue. I cannot let this go unanswered. You knew. And you decided to side with the criminal. That is something I cannot accept.”

“As if you never bet on the losing side.”

“And there is the difference. I don’t think winning or losing makes what happened right.” He sighed, “But you do.” He gestured and flames rose from his form illuminating the falling snow in brilliant red and orange. “Last chance.”

The simulacrum before him began to stutter and fade.

“Shit.” Illimen looked around vigilantly muttering under his breath, “What I wouldn’t give for a good smoke. Curses.”

The towermaster hastily dispelled the wards securing his quarters and entered. How did this little princeling go so wrong? He had a great many allies and he himself had to charge into the fray. If he had known his stupidity ahead of time he would have kept out of it. Activating a construct in the form of a liveried servant he began to pack his things. The one thing he knew for sure- Illimen was not going to let this go. But there was a new academy in the northwest, perhaps with a bit of magic, he could make a new life there.

Iseret grabbed Vanessa and pulled her back- a few concerned faces flashed by as she quickly reached the position taken by the Reborn. Kadira looked satisfied like a cat that got and ate the cream. Nodding she grabbed one of her underlings and whispered something. The man raised his emotionless slit yellow eyes and gave a quick nod. The rank and file of the Reborn all bore signs of snakeblood, eyes, claws, and scales. Their forms were hidden by tightly wound stips of black cloth and leather, faces hidden but for a bit of flesh around the eyes.

Vanessa winced as she saw the skinless muscle of her left arm bared to the night air. “I do understand the need for quick action- but could she have cast that spell a second later. Tharus would not have had the time to dodge one way or another.”

Iseret thanked a masked thug as he put a drinking horn sloshing with dark liquid into her hand mist rose from it suggesting a slowly fading heat. “Drink.” The snake woman lifted the horn and put it to her friend's lips tilting it slowly. A look of regret paired with greed was quickly suppressed by the small vampire who gulped down the life-giving blood. A thin rivulet ran down her chin and Iseret quickly lifted her thumb to brush it away.

“Could you please take a look at the time and place?” Matane showed a mock-reproachful face while her eyes seemed to light up with mischief. She seemed to be in excellent spirits.

As new skin slowly formed and strength returned to her limb Vanessa experimentally made a few grasping gestures before turning to look at the gorgon with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you quite idle? I think the situation still warrants caution.”

“Everything’s settled but for the spoils.” Matane languidly licked her lips with a long forked tongue. A new drinking vessel filled with the blood of another fallen enemy was pressed into Vanessa’s hand.

“Has anyone finished the vampire warrior?” Iseret made no move to depart but her whole posture radiated readiness.

“I think this problem is being solved as we speak.” Matane looked into the distance and grinned.

Meanwhile, Tharus shoved another hapless noble to the side as he stumbled down the steps. Behind him more and more of Carl’s supporters put down their weapons, some even began to loudly proclaim their innocence.

Alea hurried after the fleeing armored form accompanied by Mireille and Alyssa.

Alyssa saw the night illuminated by the entropic energies all around her. The dead and the dying were as if lit from within and the wounds and the flowing blood burned with void. Closing her left eye she nearly stumbled as the world suddenly became darkly lit by the sporadic fires. Asandria floated near her and whispered, ‘Don’t let him escape. The enemy does not have many that are fit to plot and command.’

Tharus sensed someone approaching from behind and his burned and poisoned flesh could not support a quick getaway so he turned to meet them. Sooty flesh flaked from blackened bone and revealed teeth and the jawbone. Forgetting himself he tried to form words and only succeeded in spitting out a piece of decomposed flesh. Nodding he firmly gripped the axe and took a fighting stance.

Alea’s hands lit from within, the light colored by her flesh took on a rosy hue.

Mireille inspected the vampire cautiously. “Should we perhaps have left him for the guard, the army?”

Alyssa shook her head and summoned wisps of dark flame to her fingertips.

The old vampire tried to lift his lips in a smile. The girls before him were nervous...and powerful. He had felt the searing light the smaller one wielded and he knew them as the ones he had tried to manipulate. Everything came in circles. Even retribution.

Void energies sluggishly coated the blade of his axe and the shadows around him seemed to deepen. He regretted not being able to at least converse with his enemies but there was nothing to it. His tongue was gone until he could heal and that did not seem to be on the table.

Tensing his muscles he jumped forward ignoring the weight of his armor and the axe slashed toward the small blindfolded girl. Light flared from her hands and formed beautiful sigils that shone like the sun. The white-haired girl took a step to the side averting her face while raising her hand shrouded in darkness to shield herself. Smiling internally Tharus noted her discomfort.

Then there was a brilliant flash and the redheaded girl slashed a sword made of lightning into the way of his blade which crashed together in a shower of sparks. The discharge or energies blackened both the axe-head as well as his hands.

With a contemptuous flick he hurled the girl to the side she simply lacked the mass and muscle to compete with him. But this had been enough time for the dark-haired light mage to complete her spell. A cage made of interlocking runes and bars of light shone around him and the last he heard was, “Jaros, Lord of Mysteries, Warder on the Threshold. Guard us against the night!”

A pillar, blindingly bright like the sun at noon shot into the air and illuminated the whole stadium. Within that light stood the slowly disintegrating silhouette of a large armored warrior arms spread, head thrown back.

The light flared once, then twice and with a clatter the empty armor fell to the ground, the axe embedded itself in the stone-paving with a crack.

Far to the west a jeweled bracelet circling a bony wrist shone with complex runes for a moment then the diamond dominating the piece became milky and blind before a large crack shot through the middle and even the metal began to look faded and without luster.

With a displeased hiss the Heartstealer ripped the useless piece of ornamentation from her forearm breaking it into pieces. Old, white columns rose all around her, the ground was littered with the dead half encased in ice.

Glowing light filled the empty eye sockets that gazed toward the east, filled with depthless malevolence.