Starlight bathed the black sands surrounding the city of Jael, casting dancing light inside the pillars of smoke rising from the capital city. The great star Mito slowly drifted between the world and the moon, illuminating the chaos below in an oily iridescent purple glow.

Fire cast flickering shadows across gray adobe walls and red timber joists. People screamed, and the war drums thundered through the sandstone streets as rebels surged towards the citadel. The crack of powder weapons echoed through the streets as Jah Annan appeared on either side of the raging mob, rising from the shadow cast alleys,

Metal crashed against metal as the mob turned to fight, but the soldiers’ sword-staves cut down the pathetic host of rebels. Staves gave way to mauls and swords as the fighting lagged on, the untrained fools falling to Jah Annan steel.

Lawthe swung his hammer down on a man armed only with his belt knife, and the rebel fell to the side, the wreckage of his face already hidden by the night’s mad shadows. Lawthe moved to the next fool without even a glance, short saber arcing out from his belt to open the man’s gut, then moved to the next.

One after another, men fell to his blade and his maul. He fought with all the skill of a Jah Annan, impassive and cold as body after body fell to the sandstone cobbles. The fighting was over in a matter of minutes, the surviving insurgents turning to flee Jael and its protectors.

The liveried captain leading the small squad blew a horn to signal a halt. The Jah Anann had done their part in the fighting; the cavalry would clean the rest of them up outside the city.

The captain ordered the division to spread out, find survivors, and put out the fires. It was hardly a job for Jah Annan, but Lawthe held his tongue, sheathing his sword and sliding his hammer back through its loop. His staff had been snapped in two by a carver’s ax, and he left it where it lay on the blood-soaked ground.

Slowly, he began moving through the city’s southern half, methodically scouring the burnt-out remnants of homes, shops, and other buildings. He scowled at the carnage. All this because the council voted against Norodim’s right to the throne.

He spat into a pile of scorched adobe and wood ash. Nothing like this had happened before in his life of service to Jiovar. Hundreds, maybe thousands dead. It was disgusting. He kicked around in the ashy remnants of an inn, revealing parts of a corpse lying scattered beneath the rumble.

His scowl deepened as he uncovered body after body, pressing fingers against cold neck after neck to find only stiff flesh. As he rose from the last corpse, an infants wail tore through the quiet. He spun towards the sound and stared at the collapsed stable attached to the side of the inn.

Quickly, he ran forward, stopping to stare around the wreckage of wood and straw. Another wail broke from inside the rubble. He slowly began shifting debris around, taking care not to crush the crying infant with careless movements.

It felt like an age before he finally uncovered the child, naked and covered in sandy ash and blood. Carefully he scooped the baby into his arms, wrapping her in his cloak. He checked the child for injuries, worried by the volume of warm sticky blood, but found nothing,

Frowning, he grabbed a moonstone from his belt pouch and held the rock up, washing the rubble in a pale blue light. It’d been difficult to see in the dark, but now he could see the woman lying still beneath the burnt debris.

He cleared as much as he could away, doing his best to soothe the still wailing infant nestled in the crook of his arm. It took longer than he liked, but he wasn’t willing to put the child down. When he’d cleared enough rubble away, he could finally see what had happened.

A woman lay half-crushed in the debris, her belly still rounded from pregnancy. She was an outlander, maybe by her son-touched complexion from the south. Another woman lay beside her with a bowl and knife in hand. Suddenly the second woman stirred in the rubble, and Lawthe crouched down beside her.

The woman’s eyes flickered open, and she tried to rise, but he put a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back to the ground.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked in a low soothing voice, letting a bit of his kar flow from the silver-glass band in his ear with the words, calming the woman.

“Everywhere,” She said, voice like grave dirt. She lay still, looking up at the star-flooded sky above. Mito’s eclipse was total now, the whole moon blanketed in an iridescent sheen.

“I’m going to search you for injuries. Keep still and tell me if anything hurts more where I touch,” Lawthe said. After the woman gave a slight nod, he began gently feeling around her body with his free hand, moonstone set atop the rubble beside the woman.

Several of the bones in her arms and legs were broken and fractured, and she had a few cracked ribs. What Lawthe found most concerning was the skull fracture, but she was safe enough for him to move to the medical tents with a litter and splints for the worse breaks.

Lawthe let her sip from his waterskin, then pulled the rest of his cloak off his shoulders and used it as a sling to hold the child to his chest. He then set about gathering bits of broken wood suitable for splints.

“What’s your name?” he asked the woman.

“Jalin,” she said, voice not quite as dry as it had been before. He found a few slats of wood to use for the splints and returned to the woman’s side.

“Well, nice to meet you, Jalin. Could you tell me what you were doing here ?” He asked as he began splinting her arms and legs.

The woman coughed, kicking up ash and wheezing slightly. “There was a woman ready to give birth, an outlander traveling on her own. The woman was mad, babbling about walking in the steps of a vishran….” She trailed off, blinking a few times.

“Jalin?” Lawthe asked, pausing before tying the second splint around her arm. The other woman didn’t react. “Talk to me, Jalin,” He said, quickly moving to feel her pulse. Her heart still beat, if a bit unsteadily. The woman just continued to stare, and he realized she was staring at the child.

He looked down, and his eyes widened. Tendrils of dark purple light danced across the girl’s skin, seeping into her, giving the infant a faint glow. Watching it all, he nearly tore the child off his chest.

“Mora’s flame, what is that?” He asked without thinking, voice rich with awe and fear alike.

“Mitokar,” Jalin said faintly. “The eclipse.”

Lawthe looked from the infant to the near-black purple glow of the eclipsed moon and back to the child. The purple light matched Mito’s iridescent sheen, and a shiver ran down Lawthe’s spine.

“What do we do?” He asked, still a bit shocked and bewildered. Would this hurt the child? It didn’t seem like it was; if anything, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“You do nothing,” a gravelly voice said from behind him, and Lawthe leaped to his feet, spinning around to face the new stranger, maul already half drawn from its loop.

“Calm yourself, Jah Annan,” the man said, raising one gloved hand towards Lawthe. The man stood draped in a black robe with blowing blue spots and lines woven from alchemical silk into the fabric, mimicking the pattern of the stars.

“Apologies, Astrologian Jotaranell,” Lawethe said, releasing his hammer and kneeling in the ash and rubble, holding the infant closer as he bowed slightly.

“Enough of that man, on your feet. Show me this child,” the astrologian said, holding out his hands.

Hesitantly, Lawthe pulled the girl from the cloak and offered her to the man. The astrologian took the child in both hands and looked it over from the shadow of his hood, silent in the ever quieting night.

“Born of death unto a Maiden of noon, the daughter of the moon will mark the Laitash’s doom.” The man was muttering under his breath, sounding almost as if he didn’t know what he was saying. A chill ran up Lawthe spin at the star breaker’s name.

Abruptly Jotaranell held the child back out to Lawthe. The Jah Annan gently returned the child to his cloak inside. “Take this one to the slave master. She will make for a fine Jah Annan. I believe you know what you need to do with the other.”

Lawthe made his bow deeper. “As you say, astrologian.” Lawthe felt his gut twisting with a flash of frustration and regret. The cloaked figure nodded, put his hands behind his back, and strode away towards the sound of shouting men.

When the man was gone, Lawthe turned back to the injured woman lying in the rubble, a grim set to his jaw. “Jalin?” He asked, trying to keep the regret from his voice.

“Yes?” She said in reply, eyes locking onto his.

“I’m sorry.” Lawthe drew his saber, letting himself fall back into that cold and empty headspace he used while fighting. There was a quick flash of steel, and it was done. Jalin’s eyes went wide for just a moment before clouding with death. Fresh blood washed over the cobblestones beneath her broken body.

He glanced around, found nobody nearby, then pushed the rubble back over her corpse. Rising on unsteady legs, he turned and made his way towards the garrison, clutching the infant close and hoping none but other Jah Annan crossed his path.