[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

"Boss, problem."

"Evileye, what's wrong?"

"The bank is empty."

Lakyus clicked her tongue, the sound lost to the din of her movement. Wishing for a smooth action was naive at best, but the first report of the night being that of a setback was disappointing in the least.

"Nothing in the vault?"

"No vault, no guards, no traps. The whole building is empty. Not even furniture."

"Shit. Maybe it was a decoy target. Leave your squad there and proceed to the eighth location."

"Understood."

A pop, followed by the telltale fizzling of the spell’s breakdown told Lakyus her comrade had already ceased communication. Message was not a consumptive spell, but tonight, every droplet of mana was especially precious. Robbed of Evileye’s voice, Lakyus was once again set upon by the night’s soundscape. It was hot and drenched in violence: clanking of spears against spears, cascading jingling of over three dozen chain shirts, and the clamor of plate that came with each footfall. She snapped her head back, catching the rushed advance of her four squads of house forces - some regular, some levy - each of which was headed by a knight. Alongside rushed three others - a guild magician specialized in abjuration and two priests - the more senior of which caught her motion and moved to respond.

“Lady Andra, is there-”

If they didn't station men at the bank…

She immediately cut off Cleric Geldra’s question.

"I think we might be facing a greater force than before."

"A report from your witch?"

Is it really so hard to call her a Sorceress?

Lakyus raised an eyebrow, her misgivings quickly melting into appreciation, as she decided to embrace the odd moment of brevity.

"Yes. Our enemy may have repositioned while we mustered.”

“Faithless dogs!”

“We’re fighting the faithless, brother. Expect little quarter.”

To say nothing of mercy.

Turning forward again, she quickly regained her bearings. They were in the city outskirts, away from the core, houses major, and destitute warrens beyond which the land was once again given over to manors. Houses minor - or the wealthiest of merchants - needed not possess explicit land grants to strike ground there, but rather could enter a sort of bastardized tenancy to the crown, gaining the right to build upon the land in exchange for rent. The reach was thus subject to the fortunes of counts, barons, and marketeers; manors were raised, then lost, then bought again, at every step iterated with the fashions of the time. Streets were wide, yet not wholly lit, with magical lights spaced few and far between - the work of disparate landowners rather than any organized effort, and houses on either side were ensconced in curtain walls, made with little in mind besides privacy;. all this sat squat in a mire deemed unfit to work. Of these places, it was a typical summer night, one that made Eight Fingers entrenchment here all the more queer.

To think a smuggling band was based in the middle of all this. Did no one notice, or were they simply paid?

Though she was a noblewoman, Lakyus was somewhat of an interloper in matters of society, finding the apathy of her fellow high-bloods somewhat baffling. To her, the lower nobility of the Kingdom could be favorably described as chickens, given over to all manner of strange tastes, bizarre vendettas, and willful blindnesses. It was the latter that seemed to be at work now; somehow, during the last six decades in which the house had been in the possession of the Smuggling Division - by Renner’s account - not one of their neighbors had thought to raise word. At best, it was negligence worthy of engaolment; at worst, treachery to beget a quartering. It was with this rage at her kin that she and her men cut straight through the meandering roads, making no effort to avoid what furtive lighting there was nor those houses hosting nocturnal jubilees and taking no care to avoid sparking talk. Lakyus crept to the next bend, spotting another curtain wall with features she quickly picked out from description.

That’s it.

The walls were slung low, no more than a pace above Lakyus’s head. As was typical, decorative crenelations ran its length, interrupted by turrets of similarly dubious make at regular intervals of ten crowns, machicolations every five. As her eyes swung further round the corner, she marked the gate. Its wrought iron form was not barred, but paneled such that it obscured all view of the other side.

It’s closed?

Renner’s description of the enemy’s desperate flight had given Lakyus over to images of rats scrambling out of every entrance - this backed by her experience in door-knock raids. Against her expectations, the gate was shuttered. Lakyus felt slightly embarrassed, chiding herself a second later for her now clearly childish thoughts. She ran her eyes along the top of the wall, seeing no pairs looking back, though she found little assurance in this.

Tina said there’s no actual space to stand on the other side. Only about a handspan or two thick, right? They could have thrown up scaffolding… bore a peephole? I should check.

Lakyus gave a half-hearted effort at steeling herself for the sake of her men, threw up a halting hand, and walked out alone. Hiding her floating blades behind her back, she made a lackadaisical jaunt down the street, taking no defensive posture as she did so. It was an obvious goading tactic, a promise that if she were to be assaulted, the rest of the Blue Roses would spring from nowhere and run the attacker down; it was thus a little surprising when no challenge to her bluff came.

Isn’t it a bit indecent not to loose at an enemy exposing herself?

This was another strangeness. Per the princess, Six Arms was likely here; per the warrior-captain, they were aggressive, and never those to turn down a challenge. That she had wandered out and been greeted with nothing was, of itself, nonsensical. She came to a halt and waited, letting ten seconds pass. Still nothing. Another ten after that, and then another, and another after that. As she approached a minute, she simply accepted the enemy, if they had eyes on her, wouldn’t take action until she did. Bringing her hand above her head, she flicked it twice, and her entire force came out onto the street behind her.

Alright, if you're going to strike, strike now.

She once again began to move, along with all those behind her. They marched upon the gate, remaining uncontested all the way up the twenty pace distance. She was surprised as her feet brought her anigh the gate without interruption; once again she was left with the initiative.

Have they really not noticed us yet? Maybe they think they can box in, hiding over another manor’s walls… but if so, now would be the time to strike. This street only has two ends. Is this force too large for them to handle? Call their inaction.

She raised her hand again, this time with an open palm.

“Formation!”

The men slowed, snapping into well-drilled blocks, each two ranks deep. Shifting past her, they formed an arc around the gate, surrounding it in a half-circle. The two clerics dispersed quickly within, standing in the middle of either far rank, with the mage stepping beside her. No strike. Following up her first shout quickly, she gave a second order.

“Weapons!”

Dozens of spears lowered behind her, blades being drawn as well. Still no strike. More nervously than intended, she approached, eyeing the gate’s embossments as she did.

No name, no unique knocker. Completely generic. Nondescript for a secret society.

Lakyus swallowed and raised her blade. Its voice had been quiet lately, seeming to understand the tide had turned against evil. Testing it now, she heard nothing, merely greeted with her own thoughts as she wanted to have them. Raising herself into a hanging stance, she burst forward, sweeping her blade in a cross. Each stroke poured black energy into the air; as if drawn from the same speckled starscape of her sword, it hung there, shuddering. With a third sweep, she released the cross and sent it forward. It struck the gate with a deep bang, carving gashes that swiftly lost definition as their edges rusted away. Low flames burst out in a few places, what remained quickly flaking and blowing away. Lakyus reset into a hanging stance.

“Advance!”

Lakyus took a step, and so did all behind her. Kicking through what rotted wreck of the gate remained, she breached the walls of Dalenoc.

“He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Breach and Bolt that he might make the way forward impassable to that which would fly.”

The air in front of her bucked and swept upward, creating a thick column of wind a few paces ahead of herself to sweep away bolts or arrows.

“He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Dust and Diamond that he might let slip the ground under all who would come to harm me and my compatriots.”

The stone she trod on shuddered, then quaked, an audible ripple of earth spreading from the point of contact.

“He of the Salt and Steam, I beg of you to pass my request to He of the Ember and Effulgence that he might banish the night, and drive out those that lurk in it.”

The thorns of her circlet began to glow, casting the space anew and washing out the torches of her men.

Here we go-

The lawn lit, vanquishing the dark and peeling away the world to a distance of ten paces. Lakyus saw no one. She increased the force of her spell, drawing more of her pool and expanding the ring of light to twenty paces. Lakyus still saw no one. Then, she drew even more, and threw out her light a full twenty-five paces, landing upon the house and then, nothing. Her light fell upon no one. No glints of blades being drawn, flashes of magic; no rush of men toward or away from her. Lakyus jerked, then went wide eyed in shock.

Shit! An illusion!

Lakyus kicked backward through her blades, flipping them around to form a wall as she passed through. It was a devastating trick, some spell on the part of the Six Arms lich to obscure all his comrades, yet leave the space intact. She would need to consciously fight blind, her eyes not simply obscured as they would be by a darkness spell, but tricked. She closed them as she landed, twirling around to catch her momentum and capture the breadth of the soundscape. No cries, shouts, nor barks; no whistling bolts from the black, nor hisses of fire; no horses neighing, shuddering in their harnesses as riders tried to hold them. It was not the bated breath of an ambush not yet sprung nor the crushing muffle of a magical silence. Only the low thrums of insects, beating away as they always would. Lakyus kept going - to stop would only serve to invite arrows, but they simply did not come.

Nothing? Can such auditory illusions be so powerful too? Shit, I need to find the lich and cut it down swiftly.

As her foot struck the ground again, she jinked to the left, opening her senses to those other than sight and hearing.

“He of the Crashing Wave, I beg of you in my time of need to reveal unto me that which is foul so that I may destroy it!”

Lakyus felt her body surge, her hairs at once standing on end as the world seemed to greaten. There was no stench of undeath, the rotting miasma of things that had dredged themselves and risen from the ground absent. What little lingered on the air had not the scent of a lich, but rather a metallic aftertaste Lakyus struggled to place. Bewildered, she opened her eyes, and again saw nothing. There were no men-at-arms, bladesmen, enforcers, soldiers, skulks, dark magicians, dark adventurers, or underhands. There were no riders, for there were no horses. There were no carriage drivers, for there were no carriages. There were no rattles, spell-chants, clangs, or any other violent noise, for there was no violence. The yard was simply empty.

I don’t understand- I don’t…

Lakyus cautiously turned back to her own men. What noise came was from them, some of which had dropped into nervous defensive stances while others looked confused. The knights were stiff, some barking stout commands to their men, others silent. The mage quietly chanted, the air around him distorning as he layered more defensive spells, the two priests reciting nervous prayers.

Where is… where is Six Arms? Where are the soldiers? How is this place empty?

“Did- Did we win?”

Lakyus’s eyes drifted to the source, a youth. No older than sixteen, he was donned in an ill-fitting chain shirt overtop a rough worn tunic, both those and his trousers stained with the faded yellow of planes grass. The metal cap on his head and spear in his hand did little to bolster his image; he was clearly some levy one of Raeven’s supplicant lords had used to fill a formation. He swayed back and forth on his feet, becoming increasingly aware that the entire troupe had gone silent, looking at him. Prompted by this, he stumbled out a few more words.

“I just-”

They have to be here, they couldn’t have had time to flee, could they? They may still be inside. If they’re planning an ambush there, then I need to spring it and draw them out.

Lakyus broke for the house, giving a sharp whistle as she did. The knights broke with her, along with what professionals had kept their wits. Following the path of stones that lead from the gate, Lakyus made stride after stride. The path was pockmarked, dense as was a typical cobbled road in some parts, but entirely given over to the mud in others. She avoided the gaps, fearing traps left in the bare earth, though nothing sprung when the less astute behind her trod through. Deftly leaping over what appeared to be a piece of wood stuck in the ground, Lakyus raised her gaze to the house. Its windows were unlit, even the second and third floors dark, the glair from her crown obscuring all view of the inside. No porchlight - magical or otherwise - burned, the stoop obscured from the light of the moon. Her run became a charge, and though she had the growing sense this action was wrong, she could think of nothing else to do.

They’ll be clustered by the entrance. I’ll need to cut them down all at once.

Lakyus swept her off hand, calling forth her blades to muster in front of her. They stacked three high, and as she leaped from the ground to clear the porch stairs in a single leap, she bade them forward, striking the double doors and ripping them from their hinges. Flying clear the frame, Lakyus landed and swept her blade in a tight arc to clear the defenders at the entrance, pouring every mote of her body’s aether into it. Her blade cut clean through a stone wall, the door that had been pinned to it, a gap, part of the doorframe, a gap again, the other part of the doorframe, then another gap as she returned to face forward. She drew herself back upward, inspecting her surroundings. The house was bare, no furnishings, nor drapes, nor carpets - not even an entrance rug. Lakyus wandered out back onto the lawn dazed, wordlessly slipping past the men who had followed her. Of the many things she had feared, aimlessness was not one of them.

How could this- How could this have slipped by Renner? She said she knew the note to be a trap, but… but I didn’t expect anything like this. We’ve been completely outwitted.

“Search the house.”

The command was instinctual, something for a scant sense of normalcy, she feeling ever more distant from the present as she came off the porch and back onto the road circle.

Outwitted? Outmaneuvered. Why? To run like this… it doesn’t make sense. Lose their base, scatter to the wind… To what end? It’s tactically absurd. If we find them in the countryside and attack then, it wouldn’t be a route, it would be destruction. I don’t get it. Gods, I wish she was here. Still, no ambushers at all? Where could they have gone? Were they all rallied together at one point? One point… If Six Arms isn’t here, then, they would be at-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in her foot and a wrenching action that threatened to knock her off her feet. Anticipating that she had finally sprung the trap Eight Fingers had left behind, she snapped back and plunged her blade down before she could see whatever had seized her; it struck an instant later, but the feeling was not the plushness of flesh, woven tendons of rope, nor a solid blow against lesser metals. Rather, the sword simply sank into the earth. Fully coming to bear, she wrenched her sword out of the ground, only to find that she had not trod on a trap, but rather merely caught on the same piece of wood that she had leapt over before. She stared at it, now finally thinking to give it the time of day.

What is that?

It was made of two planks that met at a right angle, jutting out of the earth perhaps a handspan, and sinking wholly back into it two spans from its peak. Lakyus struggled to make it out.

Is… is that the corner of a wagon bed?

If it was from a cart, it would be completely on end and embedded almost entirely into the ground. More likely, it was a severed section that had somehow been lopped off. The latter being the only thing that would make sense to her, she tested it with her foot, trying her best to lift it. It budged slightly upward, but the earth gurgled and simply swallowed it whole. Lakyus, watching it sink away, felt like her sanity had fled her. She looked a little further afield, tracing gaps in the stones, surmising absently that those were where other carts had met the same fate. Then, out of the black, came a swelling of the æther.

“Gagaran and Tia are dead!”

At that moment came a dawn; Lakyus was bathed in light from behind.

“What?!”

“The south-west!”

“W-what?!”

“Look to the south-west!”

As her crown had drowned out the torches of her fellows, its light had now been swept away by whatever was behind her. Lakyus was caught watching her silhouette dance upon the ground, before braving the font and turning round.

“A demon- a return of the Demon Gods. No. No, that wasn’t a Demon God. That was something greater. I’ve never seen anything like it before. None of the archfiends had power like that. I don’t know- I- Momon is here. He’ll kill it; he has to kill it. I- no, no, we are returning to the palace. We’ll plan there.”

Evileye’s voice crumbled away, and Lakyus was set upon by her sword. It laughed in every voice she knew: bright titters, great, gregarious exhalations, poorly suppressed giggles, mirthful chortles, mischievous snickers, the howls of her grandfather, huffs, snuffs, and chuffs of her dour comrades, the swelling bellows of her lighthearted ones, and others too numerous for her to name all came together in a sound that drummed in her head, beating into her mind unceasingly. She knew, too, that the voices were laughing at her.

That’s… thirty… forty paces… forty paces high.

The sight was terrifying beyond Lakyus’s ability to reckon, a pillar of light far afield. Her mind fractured.

Higher than anything else in the city. Higher than any man-made thing I've seen. Higher than- doesn’t matter. None of that matters, we’ll- extinguish it? Those flames, how much of the city has been taken by them?

The city had been given over to a second sun, a bright column that stretched high into the night above. It drowned out the stars, casting the city anew in horrid, unworkable colors. It was an unnatural, profane radiance that set things against themselves. So came shouts, so came howls, the baying of dogs, the stutter-start songs of birds singing their early morning songs for a dawn that came too quickly, scurrying masses of rats. The world bucked, wishing to shirk what had been thrust upon it.

Gods, Gagaran and Tia? They died and left me here to fight alone. No! That’s not true- their bodies are rotting, I must be quick to find them before they - Evileye will have moved to preserve them, I-

“What is that?!”

“Gods above!”

“Lady Aindra-”

“Is that fire?”

“My home! My home is in that blaze!”

“Oh Gods, what of my wife!?”

“Lady Aindra.”

“We must make haste back!”

“But the matter of Eight Fingers-”

“Damn them, those flames have a whole district engulfed!”

“Lady Aindra!”

Something approached her from behind. She spun round on the spot, blades swirling in a defensive helix, barely halting them before they sliced off her lieutenant's arm. He froze in place, wide-eyed. Lakyus tried to stutter out an order, a reassurance, something to abade the fear of her men, but she could find no words.

I need to run. That’s too great a danger. I can’t imagine what’s beyond that wall. It would surely kill- Shut up! Shut up! I am- I am Lady Aindra, bearer of the Fourth of Four, of the Thirteenth of Thirteen, and yet I am not him. No, I must go to it and die? Why should I? Shut up! You aren’t even here- A demon in my thoughts, trying to bring me to cowardice.

Lakyus felt the hairs on her back stand up all at once, a low tingling setting on her left shoulder, followed by two more strokes across her body. There was no physical form, but a presence nonetheless, an embrace. Her black voice spoke with more clarity and presence than it had ever done before.

I am real.

Lakyus locked in place, the overwhelming beat of a mind turned against itself. The noise was unbearable, a discordance of a thousand whispers, backward croaks, and low moans that was at once alien and yet undoubtedly hers. She bit her tongue to hold in a scream.

No you’re not, I know you’re not. You’re just- a voice in the sword? The two shades set ever spiraling in the- gemstone that binds them. Yes, you are not them either, you are my silhouette- not “my,” you- though I am me, or have I given up thinking I am a curse? Which is it? I am who I am, I am Lakyus. No- No I’m not- I-

Lakyus bite grew harder, and her tongue began to bleed. She shook her head once, then twice, thoughts decohering with each passing second.

Bring- bring yourself together. Please show yourself for what you are. Find yourself. Act my part, save- run- save- run- stay steadfast. No, no I won’t let myself be consumed by this.

“Lady Aindra! Are you-”

“I am. I am.”

To falter now would be selfish .

Geldra had seen through her, but only in a partial way. Heat on her face, not from rage, terror, or panic, but her cheeks instead set aflame with shame. Shame mixed with guilt, both barreling on into an all-consuming self-loathing. Her internal voices at once spoke together, and the noise died.

Selfish.

“I’m- I’m alright.”

Gods, what is wrong with you, Lakyus?

“What… what is that?”

“I- I believe it to be the work of a demon.”

I- I need to doff this sword. I don’t think I can bear it any longer.

“If something is trying to raze the city on such a fateful night…”

Geldra trailed off, his face turning more and more horrified. The rest of the men were broadly silent, the few people who made to speak being muffled by their comrades. Lakyus turned back to the flame. It was as it was when she had turned away; exactly as high, near, and round. It was unnaturally static, what she reckoned to be the circular bound of some spell that had been planted on the spot. She knew not what it was, and Evileye had not elaborated as much in her message, only speaking that it had been the work of the fiend that had slain her two comrades.

Though, to not bear it against this Demon God feels like an act of suicide. Something greater than the demon gods. No, no, I cannot shed Kilineiram , as much as I desire to.

“What are we going to do?”

Lakyus forced herself to rally.

“We will do- we will do whatever is necessary. Whatever that flame is-”

She raised her voice such that all present could hear.

“-it’s a serious threat to the city. We’re abandoning our current mission. Squads One, Three, Four, stay here and make sure absolutely no one leaves the manor grounds. Squad Two, with me.”

Reaching her hand round to grasp the haft of her sword, she was reassured that it was still there, and not given over to some unknown form for the purpose of tormenting her. Drawing it, she rechecked its weight, finding it as natural as it always was. Sheathing it and rearranging her blades to fan behind her, she ignored the incoherent protests of the men behind her, giving a quick inspection of her armor; everything was in order. Centering herself, she felt the depth of her mana-pool, feeling that it was mostly full. Her body was not yet tired, nor had she any wounds. The peacefulness that had so vexed her before now seemed like a boon. Whatever this flame was, she would be fully prepared to meet it.

“Let’s move.”

She strode forward, breaking into a double march. She was near to the ruined manor gate ere anyone made after her. One, two, then many sets of footsteps began to thump. Peeling out onto the street, so came the scramble behind her. Shooting a glance, she saw that many had disobeyed her orders, men pulled from every squad suddenly in her tow. It was at once disheartening, for whatever syndicate men lurked in the manor would likely make an escape, and prideful, for they had spurned the danger and followed. Eyes returning to the flame, Lakyus made what she could of it.

Looks like it’s enveloped the warehouse district on Rine. Though… it’s not entirely stowhouses. Some of these men likely have family there, not just as laborers, but as residents in tenements or houses.

Moving faster, now that she was sure of those men behind her, Lakyus dashed across a bridge and slipped from the side street onto a thoroughfare that would take her to the conflagration as quickly as possible. She began to stride faster, increasing her pace from a run to a sprint. She made her energies flow, her body trembling with power. Her strides grew longer, and her pace grew faster. Then, she set her pool aflame as well, pushing from the ground with such force as to send her flying forth at double her usual dash. Her legs carried her past a manor, then two, then ten, rushing all the way to the city wall. The gate had been left open, and she careened past the guardsmen before they could scramble after her. Her lungs burned, her pace having left all her forces behind - even the magician unable to keep up.

Another turn, this time from the thoroughfare onto an encircling road, and she had direct sight of the flame further down the way. She glanced at the flanking buildings, looking at their rooftops as she ran. Though both were thatch, neither had caught, both settled irrespective of the wall of fire behind them. The flame itself was not the bright white of a clean oil nor the dirty oranges of an urban street set ablaze; rather, it was a sickly yellow, one whose little licks seemed to turn green.

Felfire, almost certainly demons.

Most telling, there was no smoke, no char drifting in the wind; the only smell sans those of the street was that of brimstone. It was not dry, but dripping with intent and malice, the taint of fiends. As she stepped within fifteen paces, much of her equipment shuddered, the divine magics that imbued them reeling from the presence. She slowed down, letting her momentum shed with each step and drawing Kilineiram yet again. Fifteen paces became ten, then five, then one. She had made the distance in only four minutes. She refreshed herself with a swift cast of healing magic, the pain in her vanquished as if it never had come to be at all. Though but a single pace’s distance from flames so thick and radiant she could not see through them to the other side, she felt no heat shining upon her skin, nor had the air been choked with sparks or miasma.

“He of the Rippling Eddy, I ask that you understand my need for hastened pace, and that you give unto me protection from evil.”

She took another step forward - now only half a pace - and held out her hand. Feeling the sense of malice dim and change tenor as the spell resolved, she slowly plunged her hand into the flame, then her arm, then stepped in entirely. Closing her eyes so as to not drown them in light, she took another step, coming out of the flame onto the other side. The fire was only a wall, and the city within its bounds was still intact, nothing here having been set ablaze either. Screams came down-a-ways, and when Lakyus was able to level her gaze, she saw a most loathsome of fiends grabbing a woman and dragging her up into the sky.