Diane

The Black Citadel blocked the mountain pass, its blackstone walls swallowing the morning light. Diane kept her chin up as she marched through the gates with thirty other Dishonored, golden strands of hair whipping against her face. Servitude to keep her family alive was the bargain. She had already been serving the Empire, just on the wrong side of it.

Soldiers in dark blue with silver linings stared as they passed. Diane had worn that blue once but trimmed in gold.

Now she wore black. The color of the condemned.

Once, people saluted when she passed. Now their eyes followed her with open disgust. Her rank was gone, her family's prestige destroyed, all because her father chose to do what was right. Duty over family.

The courtyard walls rose as high as the mountains, but its battlements were empty. The inquisitors escorting them stopped short of the inner portcullis. "I am finally rid of you bastards." He turns to face them with a frown, "Good luck and good riddance." He smirked, a lone man stepped into the courtyard once the inquisitors were gone.

A masked man in a red tunic waited across the courtyard, the sloped blackstone walls rising behind him.

"Welcome, Dishonored." The voice didn't come from his lips, it came from inside her skull, and her chest tightened. Godlikes were born with a spark common soldiers could only dream of but only a few had reached the height of their abilities and ascended as Archons. "I have no need for burdens, you will earn your place here...or die."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" A prisoner shouted.

Keys jingled.

A hooded figure stepped out of empty air and began removing shackles, one by one. "I get it, he is testing us. We just have to beat him." Another prisoner said, smiling confidently.

Fools.

They had no idea what kind of monster stood before them, but it was better that they didn't know. With thirty criminals as fodder, she might have a sliver of a chance. She would have to be perfect. Teamwork had been a luxury of her old life. Here, trust was just another way to die stupidly, and she wasn't planning to die for criminals.

"I am waiting." The Archon lounged on a chair, yawning as he pulled back his hood.

"We should make a run for it." Diane glanced at the speaker, a young girl with dark wavy cropped hair, a pretty face with pale and soft skin. "Once he's distracted fighting that is." It was not a terrible idea, she'd have done it if not for the bargain she made, leave now and the court would execute her family. The things she'd do for love.

One of the prisoners sprinted ahead of the others, he was faster than a horse. Augmentors use the spark to strengthen their bodies instead of slinging elements, stronger, tougher or faster than what ordinary humans are capable of. The others charged with him, she expected nothing from them but a mob rush?

Diane's blue eyes glowed in pale icy hues as frost spread beneath her boots, she darted to the side, skating across ice she created with each step. Her heart raced as she moved to flank the Archon, they had a sliver of chance with proper tactics and a strategy but this? This fight might be over too soon.

Her attention snapped to flesh being sliced, a hulking chimera with long limbs held the augmentor's decapitated head up, and blood trickled down from his severed neck. One of the empire's experiments, halfmagic and halfbeast, it grinned with teeth that didn't quite fit in its mouth. The sight of it made her stomach knot. Its golden wide eyes staring at its next victim.

Diane smiled, icy sparks prickling under her skin. It was better than fighting an Archon, she can kill this beast.

The Chimera lunged into the group, ripped a man's arm and hurled another into the wall. She whipped her hand out, and sharp icicles pierced through the air. The chimera staggered, roared and swiped through the mob. Her throat tightened, she hurled another icicle, it missed. She launched a second, too slow. A third, useless. The chimera leapt straight over it, closing the distance fast.

She swallowed, hard. Will she actually win this?

A shard of ice formed in her hand, expanded into a long spear made of ice and she staked the chimera. With a single swipe, its claws broke the spear into two, she leapt back but it caught up fast. She ducked under its swipe, its claws sliced a few strands of her hair. It struck again, faster, she barely dodged it.

She had underestimated the beast, it was too strong, too fast. She inhaled sharply, her spark in full flow, the air around her froze and formed a thick jagged sphere to protect her from the coming blow. Even if she could not kill the beast, her survival mattered most, her family's life depended on it.

A flash of light bursted, it shrieked in pain covering its eyes. "It's blinded, do it now!" She turned to the voice, it was a woman with short hair split in the middle, black on one side and white on the other.

Two daggers sliced through the air, it landed cleanly and pierced its eyes. "Now it's permanently blind." The dark skinned woman smirked, lean but muscled. The chimera roared, its claws left deep gashes on her barrier as it swiped ferociously. Was it really blinded? "What are you waiting for??" the dark skinned woman yelled.

"I need it to stay put!" The man was holding a rounded iron ball bigger than his head.

Diane melted the ice behind her and left the barrier, the ice cracked as it hacked away, it really was blind. She focused, sharp icicles shot out of the ground and pierced through its leg. An iron ball shot through the air but missed it by a hair, she had made the mistake of relying on others, she formed another ice spear in her hand.

Fireballs seared past her, it forced the chimera back a few steps, the icicles holding it in place shattered. She lunged in, a cough of blood escaped her as pain slammed into her rib, her spear dissipated into white mists as she dropped to the ground. Did Ironball hit her? It was something that never would've happened fighting alongside proper soldiers, these criminals would sooner kill each other by accident in battle.

She mustered her strength but it withered from her limbs, her arms trembled as she pushed herself up, an iron ball lay innocently next to her. She should've known better than to be careless around fools, a stray shot had taken her out of the fight. Ponytail's hand burst with flames but he was not shooting out more fireballs.

The chimera's claws scraped the ground, Darkskin flung another knife and it dug into its skin, doing nothing but taking its attention in their direction. Her direction. It swung its claws with each step, the air swished when it hit high, and the ground grazed when it hit low. Her heart thumped against her chest as it grew close, killed by another's incompetence, she grit her teeth. It was not how she imagined her death would be.

Her jaw was tight as it stepped close to her, it raised its hand to strike and she stared up, it better hit high or else she'd actually die. Her eyes shut tight as it struck but the blow never came, or was she dead? She peeked and saw the claws stopped barely an inch from her face, its arms trembled in place. It was Prettyface, eyes glowed in faint silvery hues, she was not as useless as she looked.

Blood splattered as an iron ball severed its head, the body dropped with crash and blood pooled on the ground. "Headshot!" Iron ball yelled. Coughings escaped Prettyface, the ground stained with specks of her blood and Splithair steadied her up. Darkskin offered a hand to help her up, to which she reluctantly accepted.

Diane grunted, pain seared as she rose and she pressed a palm on the side of her stomach. "Welcome to Black Citadel." The Archon rose from his seat and approached slowly, "Only the strong survive out here." He disappeared, "Keep up." She spun to the voice coming from behind her, he had teleported.

She winced as she stepped, and Ironball walked past her without even a hint of guilt on his face.

These people really are the trash of society.

Beyond the portcullis, a narrow path stretched ahead. Trenches lined both sides, bristling with sharpened stakes. Arrow slits riddled the walls along the path. A full garrison could have been hiding behind them and she suspected they were.

The outer portcullis before them lifted open; the air felt different as she stepped out of the Citadel and into the Free Marshes. "You can waste your life away as a Blackguard." The Archon said, "Or earn an amnesty." He turned to face them, hands folded behind his back. "Serve me well, Blackguards." He disappeared without another word.

Blackguards.

Criminals spared the noose only to be thrown into missions no one expected them to survive. "We could take our chances around the mountain." Ponytail said, and Prettyface's lips parted. "Is there a way around the Black Citadel? A long walk around the mountains?"

Prettyface turned away, sighing, before forcing herself to look back at them."I'm not one for running." She said quietly. "Or fighting. I won't make it out there." She shook her head, "I am not even supposed to be here."

"But you're here love, stick with me and you'll be fine." Splithair wrapped her arm around Prettyface's neck, pulling her close.

"So what now?" Ironball looked around for replies, she kept her gaze on the North, pines stretched endlessly into mist. She'd heard rumors that reconnaissance teams went missing north, vanished without a trace, she was a fool to believe she'd stood watch from Citadel walls. Now it was obvious why they had been sent.

No one would bat an eye if Blackguards went missing.

"We get that damned amnesty I guess, unless you want to be a Blackguard for life." Darkskin chuckled.

"Or we could run." Ponytail crossed his arms.

"We should introduce ourselves." the split-haired woman said. "Kaela Voss." She smiled widely.

"Nyra Soren." Darkskin rested a hand on her hip, black hair slicked back, eyes sharp. "People used to call me Razor." Razor? She should use that.

"The assassin?" Ironball blurted, he was short but with a broad chest, face weathered. Razor nodded, seemingly unsurprised that Ironball had heard of her. "I am Bran Holt, honored to meet you."

"Jarek Smith here." Ponytail crossed his arms, a tall man with sharp green eyes. "What about you? What's your name?" He smiled, gaze sharp.

"Diane."

Her stare pinned Ironball in place. "A little advice. Watch where you're throwing."

"Hah, watch where you're going!" Her jaw tightened, she held back a wince as the pain strained. "But I do apologize, that shot missed." She forced a smile, "No hard feelings?"

"If that was the last time." Diane said, "No hard feelings."

Prettyface cleared her throat and everyone turned to her, she inhaled deeply. "I am Miranda Eilhart, pleased to make you all acquainted."

"You look familiar." Razor placed the tip of her blade on her chin, brows furrowed. "Have we met?" Prettyface paused for a moment as if trying to remember, then gently shook her head.