Void did not always triumph. Sometimes it lost as Energy spread its wings to fly. But the victories of the opposition never lasted. The Void took its due. Its seeds of destruction planted themselves everywhere, and none knew what forms they could become.

Chapter 1

Outrage echoed throughout the Atrium as Lord Elanreu held Trynneia to his chest. Her breath had fled, the warmth of her flesh rapidly receding. He knew the tears dampening his cheeks were unseemly but gave them no thought. A strange sort of love penetrated his heart as he looked at this young woman, stolen from life in a blaze of glory.

“No, it doesn’t end like this,” he whispered. Only Shallin heard his mutters amidst the din. People flowed around them, busying themselves with the charred remains of the fallen Regency members. Elanreu and the two girls remained ignored, or unnoticed, though all had just seen their role in the debacle.

“We don’t have much time, Lord Elanreu. We must move Her Grace,” she gestured weakly at the bodies pressing in. “Before we lose the opportunity.”

“Yes. Yes. You’re right, child. Come,” he said, beginning to heft Trynneia’s body. Blood still stained her face, where it had moments before poured forth after being blinded. The ruin of her eyes even Shallin avoided as she assisted him.

They wasted no time in removing her body, supporting it with their shoulders and carrying her between them. A few calls followed, but Lord Elanreu waved them away. Before long, the two of them were hemmed in, surrounded by guards.

“You can’t just take her away from here, my Lord,” one of them explained. “The murderer-”

“Her Grace faced Light’s Judgment before us all. It claimed both Her and the Regency. She was my guest and I intend to care for her funeral. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” A hand restrained him. “What else?”

“You said it yourself. She was your guest. Some questions need answering. Did you put her up to this?”

Lord Elanreu laughed. “That’s it? Is that your line of questioning? My man, you saw the twin suns’ light pour through her body and fry them all. I had no hand in controlling that. Look to the Regency. Bury their dust with honor, if that’s what’s meant to be. They’re the ones who’ve fallen. Where would my answers to you go? Who do you report to now?” The guard looked dumbfounded, realizing there was no protocol for this. His companions shrugged as well.

“See now. Clean up that mess back there, and when you figure out who’s in charge, perhaps you can arrest me. Until then, I intend to see to the final care of Her Grace.” Elanreu pulled away, and Shallin matched pace with him, going up the steps and out of the basin of the Atrium.

Whether it was fear, wonder, Elanreu’s stern gaze, or Shallin’s determination, people turned aside to avoid them. Even as concerned glares met them, their purposeful, burdened steps led them up and out. Some held their hands outstretched, index fingers pointed skyward in a salute, a symbol of an unseen alliance with Trynneia.

Shallin struggled with her emotions as she relived the fleeting moment she’d pierced Trynneia’s eyes and felt the squelch of their ruin. She asked me to, she reminded herself. Blinder. The slight weight of her adversary-turned-almost-friend dragged at her. Lord Elanreu didn’t seem to mind.

“You did well, Blinder.” They reached the main landing and entered the foyer that served the rest of the Atrium’s purposes. “This girl sure turned them about with everything she did.”

“Don’t call me that.” Shallin chafed at the new moniker. “It’s just what needed to be done.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Change is in motion regardless. I’m eager to see what’s left when the dust settles.”

Shallin paused, looking at Lord Elanreu over Trynneia’s drooping head. ”Did you expect this?” The two almost stumbled.

“No.” Lord Elanreu lurched forward, almost tugging Trynneia off Shallin’s shoulders, and she struggled to keep up.

“Light,” Shallin swore. Blinder. Trynneia’s toes didn’t even drag on the ground. The lord’s cloak barely concealed the damaged body they carried. Fresh blood trailed behind them, marking their path as it slid from the ruins of her face and chest.

Igol followed them, bearing Trynneia’s short sword. Lightning had etched itself into the blade and handle, stained murky red with her blood. Shallin didn’t know what to think of the odd man following them but did not perceive him to be a threat.

“Safe journey, Lord Elanreu. Young Shallin,” he called to them. “Let me get your carriage.” Igol left the sword with them and departed.

“The school’s ruined, isn’t it?” She asked as the old man departed their company.

“Not sure I don’t mind. Desi may take issue with it. Ahhh,” he said as they sat down on a bench. “Everything’s ruined, I should think. The last Lightblessed.” Elanreu pulled Trynneia close and brushed back her hair with his fingers. “Rendrys hid her well. Far away and yet close enough. I should be happy I’ll never face her like again.”

“Rendrys or Trynneia?”

“Either. Both. Doesn’t matter..” He glanced at the sword resting next to Shallin’s leg. “Keep it, Blinder. She won’t need it anymore.”

Shallin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Lord Elanreu defeated? Content? Resigned? Something had broken in him, but she couldn’t tell what.

“This isn’t dignified,” she said, covering up Trynneia’s body with the cloak. “And we can’t go back to the Estate. I’m surprised you turned the guards away as quick as you did.”

“They were flustered and easy to redirect. Chaos shall reign on the Illuminari council, now that the Regency is gone and the only presumed heir has fallen as well.” He chuckled. “They made me what I am, I suppose. But I’m also what I made of myself. The Regents kept their belief that they were in control.”

“Do you think they’ll appoint new Regents?” Shallin mulled the consequences. Centuries of a regime, religion, and mindset had burned away in an instant. The more she thought about it, the more concerned she became. Igol drew close with their carriage.

“They’ll try. It’s human nature to go back to what’s comfortable. Not sure who they’d appoint if they tried. Let it stay burned,” was all he’d offer.

Working with Igol, they managed to place Trynneia’s body onto the carriage floor before seating themselves as driver and passenger. Lord Elanreu did not deign to wait for his servants in this regard.

“Speed is of the essence, Blinder. We must get back and prepare."

Shallin nodded as the carriage lurched into motion. The twin suns neared their zenith, far enough apart to rise above and fall below the horizon within minutes of each other. Even now, having borne witness to Light’s Judgment as their power had lanced out from Trynneia’s chest, she found her faith somewhat renewed, if not sanctified.

Compared to the elementalists she’d encountered, a Lightblessed was orders of magnitude more frightening. Only now, they were no more. She flicked her eyes to Lord Elanreu’s gloved hands before looking away.

How many of them had he killed? She’d watched three grown adults burned to ash and cinders before her eyes by one of them. Her mentor was strong, but she found now that she’d greatly underestimated the forces he’d contended with in the years before her birth.

This man.

The carriage rocked and swayed, bouncing along the ruts in the ground. Her own gloved hands bounced to the same rhythm. Shallin remembered every face of every elementalist she’d dealt with, every struggle they’d brought. Sixteen faces.

How many did Lord Elanreu remember? Did they matter to him? He smiled at her, eyes red and swollen. What had Trynneia been to him?

“I thought she would take her rightful place and have you by her side,” he said, catching her off guard. “She could have risen to the occasion.”

“Her Grace stuck to her principles. She felt her burden,” Shallin offered. “Light.”

“She was different from you and me, I think. Powers aside, it ate her up. The killing. The death. I think she was wrongly accused, but followed through to obtain Light’s Judgment.” Elanreu paused. “She went with gusto, that’s for sure.”

Shallin shook her head. “You misunderstood her, Lord Elanreu. She wanted absolution. She wanted to be free of the burden of the elements. She certainly didn’t want to be your lapdog, despite our attempts to recruit one of them to our cause.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would have worked. It was worth the shot.”

“I still haven’t worked out how she could be Lightblessed and an elementalist. At the least, she should have been culled at birth. The Haemophage should have purged her.”

Lord Elanreu chuckled weakly. “Her mother was the Haemophage. Rendrys would have known and concealed it. That woman was always a damned enigma.”

“So that’s how she escaped you,” Shallin said, covering her mouth as she realized what she’d just uttered. Elanreu’s eyes narrowed.

“Just because she was an enigma doesn’t mean I didn’t know her, or how her mind worked. She didn’t escape me. I let her go.”

“So you let the Regents believe-”

“I told the Regency she would never be their problem. I did not lie to them.”

Shallin placed her hand on one of Lord Elanreu’s and felt it trembling through their gloves. “What is it?”

“Everything happens for a reason. I’m trying to figure out the best way to salvage this situation. There are very few good alternatives. All the oaths are broken now. And she was the heart of it.” He clasped her hand. She squeezed it back. “Shallin.” He sighed. “We’ll bury her in my crypt. She deserves that much.”

Shallin nodded. “And the oaths?” Throngs of people surrounded the carriage as it made its way through town. She could tell by the murmurs that word had begun to spread about the Judgment in the Atrium. Her paranoia drew her eyes in every direction.

“Oh, there’s oaths, and then there’s the Oath. She didn’t know she was beholden to it. Didn’t even know it existed. I’m sure Rendrys kept that from her as well. The unraveling shall be quick, I fear.”

“We keep dancing around things, Lord Elanreu.”

“I enjoy the dance. Please try to learn the steps.”

Shallin’s mind raced. What was he hinting at? He kept talking about oaths but seemed to place new emphasis on the word. He’d called Trynneia “Oathbreaker”, never deferring to her as “Your Grace.” At the time, Shallin had thought it only because some promise had been made to Elanreu, then carelessly broken. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Did he consider the Tenets to be oaths? Perhaps the Purpose? None seemed to warrant the importance he emphasized. What did he mean?

“I can’t learn steps if you don’t show me.”

He pitched his voice lower, leaning towards her. “She was not meant to die.”

Another conversation changed.

“We all die, Lord Elanreu. Even Her Grace.”

“I don’t mean Trynneia, Shallin. I mean her mother.” At that he fell silent, gazing off down the streets ahead of them. Whispers grew louder and people pushed closer. Their progress slowed.

Shallin seethed, fingering the dagger at her belt. She’d caught his look in a sidelong glance, but didn’t want to return it. She could read how his jaw had set, and he’d speak no more, lost in trying to coax the two horses to pull their carriage through the tightening noose of sweaty bodies.

Her Grace had tried to find meaning in her mother’s death and had indeed accused the Regency of Rendrys’ murder. Elanreu kept a secret from Shallin. “She didn’t escape me. I let her go,” he’d said. Something in his tone and the inflection of his voice told her he lied. At the very least he obscured some truth.

She looked at her gloved hands, seeing in her mind the red scars that crisscrossed them before passing up her forearms to hide beneath her sleeves. Power to counteract an elementalist. Skill to corral them. The pain she had endured and the price she had paid. Yet she knew his gloves hid nothing.

For the first time, she considered that he bluffed. He’d never killed Lightblessed. He’d never gotten his hands dirty fighting elementalists. All his sister’s training, never his. She shook her head. That could not be.

He had to have learned something, that much she was sure of. A secret that would “cause everything to unravel.” She had no idea what that meant either. For now, his mouth was shut, and all she could do was think and speculate, ruminating over possibilities she could not quantify and ignoring the ones she could not imagine.