Krayson should have waited for Starra to say something further. Vampire or not, the woman had information he wanted. There were a half-dozen reasons he could list to keep his head and get as much out of Lady Starra as possible.

Instead, Krayson bolted.

Every instinct he had for self-preservation screamed at him to flee. Vampires were a dark aspect of the world, legendary creatures of shadow and blood. And if Algol, the enigmatic shopkeeper, had been at all correct, vampires were far worse than even that. Shifters. Proteurim. Demon spawn. That Starra had casually proclaimed herself as the Lady Tarlen's murderer heightened Krayson's impulse to run away. If she had killed Tarlen, why not the blood runner contracted to her as well?

Krayson's robe flared behind him as he sprinted towards the solar's door.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Starra sighed while forming a somatic with her right hand.

It came too fast for Krayson to react in time. Lady Starra's somatic was fast— very fast— and the spell wrapped around him before he could begin the first gesture for a counter spell. He braced himself for the pain of whatever it was she had done to him.

Starra stifled amused laughter.

Krayson spun about to face her, ready for anything. At least, he'd thought he was. When he turned, his robe fell off of him. As did his shirt, trousers, and every other article of clothing he was wearing. With a cold sense of dread, Krayson looked down at himself and saw that he was standing stark naked in the anointed father's solar. As an initiate, he'd once had a dream that started like this, and it ended with his fellow students pointing and laughing at him.

Starra averted her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Unless you intend to go streaking through your tower, why not hear me out?"

Krayson snatched at his smallclothes. As he did, he spied a blue mouse darting from the pile of clothing. Saveen, unnoticed, ran beneath one of the upholstered chairs near Lady Starra.

"I promise you, Blood Runner, I mean you no harm," Starra said.

Cheeks flushing with shame, Krayson hurriedly began to dress himself. "What did you do? What was that spell?"

"Hmm?" Starra peeked at him, then looked away again. "Just a party trick I picked up."

What kind of parties do you go to? Krayson thought angrily. He shoved his arms through the sleeves of his shirt and began fastening buttons. His flush wasn't going away, and his heart hadn't slowed from an extra five beats per minute. Krayson knew he was still in danger.

"I conjured a localized area of effect in which friction and tension become fluid concepts," Starra explained. "Gravity and inertia did the rest. Buttons slip unfastened, clasps come undone, and now you have to stop long enough to listen to me."

Krayson fumed as he got his belt buckled.

"Really?" Lady Starra gasped. "No comment? Do you realize the precision that kind of spell needs? I'd hoped you'd be more impressed." She peeked at Krayson again, saw that he was more or less decent, then faced him more openly. "I can help you complete your contract, Blood Runner. It's in your best interest to stop being a fool and talk to me."

Krayson scowled. "I've no interest in talking to a blood-sucking monster."

Starra's eyes narrowed. "That's rich, coming from a sworn brother."

"What I do is different," Krayson snapped.

"It certainly is different. You won't wither away without performing your rites. If a vampire doesn't 'suck blood', as you so eloquently put it, they can't survive. Thank you, for pointing that out."

Krayson didn't appreciate Starra's sarcastic tone. "That doesn't change what you are, creature."

Lady Starra drew her lips together. Her expression appeared more wounded than Krayson would have expected. "I miscalculated," she said. "I'd have hoped a blood runner, a sion of House Krayson no less, would be less likely to make rash judgement. My mistake."

It felt like one of Krayson's ghosts just flicked his ear in chastisement. He ignored the dead emotion and pulled his half-robe around his shoulders. "You confessed to murdering the Lady Tarlen. Explain yourself before I agree to anything."

Starra sighed and sat down. It was the chair Saveen was hiding under. The vampire crossed her legs and folded her hands in front of her. Her brow was furrowed over her red eyes as she spoke. "You've stumbled upon something of a secret war, Lord Joshuan. I doubt you know how enormous it truly is."

"I have no title," Krayson growled. "I am just a blood runner."

"Whatever," Starra said dismissively. "Oma the Tarlen was a pawn in this shadow war, and she served the wrong side."

"I imagine she'd say the same of you had things gone the other way."

"True enough," Starra allowed, "but you'd be less understanding if you knew who Tarlen's master was."

"Prince Vintus," Krayson said. "He's the one moving the arja pieces. His Highness is behind the kill order against Princess Jin."

Starra shook her head. "You know parts, but not the whole. Vintus isn't the arja player. He's just another piece to be positioned and used, or even sacrificed if needed."

Krayson frowned.

"An accurate metaphor," Starra continued. "This is very much a game of arja, but the board is the Five Kingdoms, everything that lives is a pawn to be played, and the contest has continued in stalemate for centuries. The stakes couldn't be higher, as the entire mortal world depends on the outcome."

Krayson straightened his clothes and strode the periphery of the room. He moved so that another chair was between him and Starra, and he leaned against the back of it. "You're saying a lot without saying much of anything. Speak plain, vampire."

Starra curled her lip in displeasure. "Well, aren't you charming. Yes, I killed the Lady Tarlen. The Merovech hoped that we'd be in time to stop her from hiring a blood runner. Failing that, news of her death would invalidate her contract. Unfortunately, you'd already left the City of Althandor by the time I put my wilt curse on her. I pursued you, but you reached the end of your contract before I came within ten leagues. The Merovech wasted a lot of resources trying to prevent you from retrieving the Imperial Diamond."

"The Merovech?" Krayson demanded. "You claim that the thundering Merovech had the Lady Tarlen killed? Is that what provoked Vintus to retaliate?"

Starra regarded him with a measure of surprise. "You figured out why the throne room was attacked?"

Krayson nodded curtly.

"Well, consider me impressed."

"I've no interest in impressing you and every interest in walking away."

"To the heart of it, then. Ambrose the Merovech and Prince Vintus Algara have been at the center of this war for a very long time. The sorcerers on the board, if you will. Either would have killed the other given half the chance."

"Why didn't they until now?" Krayson asked.

Starra gestured in a vaguely eastern direction, presumedly towards the Palace of Towers. "King Cathis. Ambrose staid his hand out of love and loyalty to the Highest King, Vintus, out of fear of him."

"But that's changed," Krayson said. "Vintus made the first move, and now the Merovech is dead."

Starra seemed to be looking at something a thousand leagues away. She frowned. "His Highness has become more aggressive over the last few months. You've seen this yourself when he tried to have you killed, then again with the dungeon warden that failed him. He's getting sloppy, acting in ways so that more are starting to realize something large is at work. Unfortunately, I can't be certain this, too, isn't part of his plan."

"Princess Maya knows part of the truth," Krayson said, "but I think she places blame on her father instead of her uncle."

Starra shivered, but why she would have that reaction to a mention of Maya was a mystery. Or perhaps not. Krayson also felt a chill whenever he thought about the princess.

"And the Imperial Diamond?" Krayson asked. "Was the Merovech behind that getting stolen, too?"

"I really couldn't say," Starra admitted, "but I doubt it. Losing the Imperial Diamond did throw a wrench into the clockworks of Vintus' plans. However, Ambrose wouldn't use Courtesans. Their organization, such as it is nowadays, has always moved at the whim of the enemy, so I imagine the thieves were acting independently."

Krayson leaned closer. "You say it's all a game, but who are you playing against if not Prince Vintus?"

Lady Starra eyed him sidelong. She tapped her foot as if mulling it over. "Not who," she said after her deliberation, "but what. We're wrapped up in a conflict between the mortal world and the old masters."

"Demons?" Krayson spat incredulously. "You expect me to believe you're fighting against imps and gremlins?"

"Oh please," Starra scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "No such thing. What you call demons are much greater and far worse than little creatures that hide your coin purse and sour the milk. The old masters are ancient entities, older than the gods of mortals and every bit as powerful. If not more so. They ruled the world for eons, and it wasn't until the advent of mortal magic that they were..."

Starra halted mid-sentence and took a deep breath. As she spoke, she'd been growing more passionate, even angry. Now, she looked away and glowered at the wall while absently twirling a lock of white hair in her fingers.

"Why would one of the proteurim want to stop demons?" Krayson asked. "Didn't your kind serve them thousands of years ago?"

"You'll find that very few shifters have any love for our creators." Starra shot him a brief glare before looking away again. "Remarkably well-informed for a mortal. You're right that my kind are shifters, but I'm not proteurim. The two are not the same."

"How so?"

"Proteurim are extinct, or near enough. Millennia of hiding among mortals led to interbreeding and a diluting of our primal bloodlines. What most people think of as shifters are more human than proteurim, though there are exceptions."

Krayson disliked that he was intrigued by the subject. This information was unknown to the magocracy as far as he could tell. At least, if it was, it wasn't being shared. "What exceptions?"

"A minority of vampires," Starra said. "I can pass for human, but the proteurim vampires would never be able to. I need to drink a pint or two of blood each week— given freely, I might add— while they must consume lifeblood from those they kill. When you hear talk of a murderous, feral vampire, it's likely one of them. Skindancers also remain pureblooded, because they don't reproduce sexually. Otherwise, the way mortals ostracize and persecute shifters is nothing but ignorant prejudice."

Krayson wasn't convinced. "I know of more than one incident involving werebeasts or harpies killing indiscriminately. You can claim oppression all you wish, but you can't deny that shifters have a tendency to turn violent whenever they're found."

"Weres," she replied. "Not werebeasts. Just weres. Of all shifters, I think mortals misunderstand them the most. Tell me, Joshuan Krayson, how often have you been assaulted because of the circumstances of your birth? Have you ever had the need to defend yourself from a mob?"

Krayson kept silent.

"Of course you have. Child of traitors and barbarians, a blood mage, how could you not? Seeing as you live in Althandor, I wonder if you suffered similar treatment from..."

"Enough," Krayson snapped. "I'm not on trial."

"Your prejudices are. Or should be. Considering your contract, you're going to have to set them all aside."

Krayson gripped the back of the chair he leaned against. His fingers pressed against the wood hard enough that he could hear it creaking. He didn't like how she tried to throw established fact at him as if he were wrong for believing it. There was nothing to gain from continuing this conversation. Starra had nothing of use to give him, and he wanted her gone before she said things Saveen shouldn't be made aware of.

"There's no reason for you to believe," Starra said in a more subdued tone, as if sensing he was about to go. "Nor do you need to. All that matters is the bloodsong you carry. If there's to be any hope for either mortals or shifters, the Five will need all the help they can get. You must reach Ambrose's heir, or all may be lost."

Krayson scowled as he stared at her. What she said was ludicrous. And what was this nonsense about "the Five"? It smacked of superstitions and charlatans, and Krayson wanted no further part in it. Thunder take Lady Starra Nolaas, and may it crash on the Merovech's head wherever he was in the Beyond. This foolishness had already cost Krayson his freedom, his health, and even his soul. He wouldn't let it have any more of him. Not while a part of the life he'd chosen was still salvageable.

I'm needed in the Order, he thought. I won't leave Father Ranton to hold what's left of us together while I go chasing fairy tales just because this creature says so.

Krayson fixed a glare on Starra. "I will not do it," he said. "Whatever you say about the Merovech's motives, the Highest King will see this as an act of treason. I don't care about your little fantasy, creature. Petition the Order to grant you the bloodsong and take it wherever you want. Vampires know a little blood magic, don't they? You can do your own thundering legwork. My part in this farce is done."

Starra rose to her feet, and she was just tall enough that she managed to loom. "You accepted a contract," she warned. "I know a little of what happens to blood runners that break their word."

"My contract is with King Cathis the Algara," Krayson retorted. "Not with the Merovech and not with you. I am to preserve the bloodsong, not deliver a power such as this to someone the king sees as an enemy. Nothing you say can compel me to betray Althandor."

"You little fool," Starra snapped. Her fangs were showing more prominently now that she was angry. Her hand performed a swift somatic, and she lay a privacy ward that covered the pair of them. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said? This is for Althandor. The Merovech did everything in his power to grant us this chance. He acted against his own conscience when it was required and disobeyed his king— all at the word of an imprisoned god— because it allowed the possibility for someone like Enfri the Yora to rise."

Krayson tensed. Starra said the name out loud, where Saveen could hear it. The dragonet's hiding place was within the privacy ward. Krayson's eyes flickered to where she huddled beneath Starra's chair, and his witchsight revealed a blue mouse looking back at him. He couldn't read her expression, but he expected there'd be a sense of betrayal within it.

"Ambrose found the girl's father and discovered his identity," Starra continued. "He saw that Yora Page wasn't anything like his ancestors, so Ambrose protected him. His hope was that a new Dragon Emperor might arise and become the champion we need to stop the demons, as Inwe did long ago. Then, Vintus killed him, but the line of Inwe endures. To stop the coming doom, to save Althandor and all the Five Kingdoms, the bloodsong must be delivered to the Dragon Empress."

Something in Krayson's posture or expression gave Starra pause. Her eyes searched up and down the length of him, and she held her hands to her sides. Starra might have said something, but Krayson couldn't hear her for the howling inside his chest and the racing of his heart. Throughout all that Starra had said, his heartbeat hadn't slowed from that hateful rhythm.

Saveen took a small step from beneath the chair, looking at Krayson. He avoided her eyes, at a loss for words. He wanted to say something, but anything he might have said would only reveal her presence to Starra. Krayson was ashamed.

Thunder, but if that feeling could have just become a ghost like the rest. So many others he would have wanted to keep were dead, why not the worst of them? He was allowed his anger, his ambition, pride, fear, and this loathsome shame. Why nothing good? Blood magic took the best of what made a man human and left the base impulses of an animal.

And I dare to call Starra a monster, Krayson thought.

Lady Starra opened her mouth to speak, but something stopped her. She looked to the door, her lip curling into a grimace. Her veil was back over her eyes in a moment, and a wave of her hand dismissed the privacy ward. "Your master is returning. I expected more time than a couple minutes."

The door burst open, and Father Ranton leapt through and slammed it shut behind him. His cheeks were flush with exertion, as if he'd been running.

"Master?" Krayson inquired.

Ranton turned to Krayson, his expression a storm cloud. "What have you brought on us, my child?"

Krayson's confusion must have been evident, because Starra clucked her tongue and spoke up in his place. "What is wrong, Father?"

Ranton glanced to her briefly before looking to Krayson again. "Royal assassins. They say you've broken your contract and consorted with enemies of the crown."

"Never," Krayson protested. "Unless being hunted by them at every turn counts as consorting."

"They said Elise of Eastrun!" Ranton shouted. "You've had dealings with that Aleesh harpy?"

Lady Starra hissed through her teeth and shot an accusing glare towards Krayson to match Ranton's. "That was your purpose in Gaulatia. It wasn't just to retrieve the Imperial Diamond. You used it?"

"Do you have any idea of what you've done?" Ranton demanded. "Any notion of how many armsmen died to take control of that beast? She killed two royal assassins that night, Joshuan!"

"It was my contract," Krayson said, his voice weak. Ranton's fury had diminished him in a way he couldn't remember ever experiencing before. "Master, I acted as I was instructed. Tarlen told me they were the king's orders."

Ranton sagged against the door and held a hand to his face. "My child," he murmured, some of his wrath fading. "Winds and storms, you have destroyed us."

"Master, what is happening?"

Ranton's answer was interrupted by a powerful knock against the door. The anointed father went pale.

"I am sorry, my child, but I doubt I can protect you."

He opened the door and stood aside for Prince Vintus Algara to enter the solar. Krayson took an involuntary step back, and even Lady Starra shifted her feet.

His Highness took in the room with a languid turn of his head, his beast-like eyes absorbing every detail. Vintus glared imperiously down his aquiline nose, and he took a moment to adjust the tie holding his hair back in a tail. He was making an intimidating show of being at complete ease.

Five more assassins followed him into the room. Krayson didn't recognize any of them, but the young woman in midriff-baring armor was likely Vintus' daughter, Duchess Josenthorne. Prince Vintus appeared to have brought his entire coterie on this errand.

Aside from Josenthorne, the others were three men and a woman. The Duchess was the youngest of them by a wide margin, as none of the others could have been younger than their early thirties. One of the men might have been approaching sixty. Each was armed, though they hadn't drawn their weapons, and their eyes were cold.

"It seems," Vintus said in a quietly menacing voice, "that my timing could not have been better." He never looked directly at Krayson, nor at anyone else in the room. He simply looked ahead towards the window. Vintus tugged a pair of fingerless gloves from where they'd been tucked into his belt and began pulling them on. "I should have expected to find you here, my lady. You have long had the most troublesome habit of meddling where you are not welcome."

Starra curtsied. Her nervousness had vanished, replaced by complete poise. "Your Highness. Had I expected a royal visit, I'd have dressed for the occasion."

Vintus glanced at her. His eyes brushed over her cleavage and exposed ankles. "Ravishing as ever, Lady Starra. Out of respect for your fallen master, I will allow you one chance to remove yourself from these premises. Justice is about to be served, and you will find that I am thorough in its implementation."

Lady Starra hesitated. She looked sidelong towards Krayson, and the indecision in her expression was so slight that it would be easily missed. Starra looked back to Vintus and curtsied again. Then, without another word, she glided towards the door. Vintus' coterie made space for her to pass.

Vintus turned to look at her as she drew abreast of him. "I understand the road back to Japax has grown perilous, but I trust you will find it preferable to the city in the coming months. The summer sun can be unforgiving despite the mists."

Starra paused, inclined her head to Vintus, then continued on her way. The sound of her heeled shoes clacking against the floor faded into the distance.

Vintus caught the eye of one of his coterie and gave a sharp gesture with his chin. The old assassin nodded and followed Starra. Perhaps to make certain that she left the tower, or perhaps to make her withdrawal more permanent.

As the assassin left, another entered to take his place. This one, Krayson knew all too well. Princess Maya had her sword in hand, and she still wore the wolf's head cowl. Maya went to stand next to Duchess Josenthorne, and the empty eyes of her cowl were fixed on Krayson's face.

Maya's thrown her lot in with Vintus, Krayson thought with a growing sense of dread. Thunder take me, I might have driven her to do it.

Krayson took another step back. His thoughts kept going to Saveen, but he didn't dare look to her. She needed to stay quiet and out of sight, then make her escape once this was over. If the royal assassins found her here, they wouldn't hesitate to destroy her.

"Your Highness," Father Ranton said, "by the Highest King's law, the Order has the sole right to prosecute our own. If the allegations against Brother Joshuan are true..."

"There is no question of 'if', Father," Vintus said coldly. "I possess the sworn testimony of Lord Garret the Merovech as to what this traitor has been up to."

"You lie," Krayson whispered.

Vintus raised an eyebrow. "What's this? Has the Krayson found his tongue?"

Krayson clenched his fists to still their trembling. The beating of his heart hadn't been trying to warn him of Starra, but of the king's brother. "You are a liar, Your Highness," Krayson said in a louder voice.

Ranton sputtered. "Brother Joshuan! You address the king's brother."

"There are indeed traitors in this room," Krayson said defiantly. "None of them are wearing red."

"Mind your tongue, boy," the woman assassin snarled.

Vintus smirked. "You are mistaken, Lord Krayson. Tell us, here before your master, did you meet with Elise of Eastrun after leaving the palace, instead of returning to the Sanguine Tower as you were ordered by my brother?"

An obvious verbal trap. Krayson didn't answer.

"Were you not offered contract by Elise of Eastrun? Did you not later assault Lord Garret in Westrun, far from where you were supposed to be?"

"Hardly an assault, Your Highness," Krayson growled. "A little spellfire to remind him of which of us is the better arcanist as I took my leave."

Some of the assassins' faces grew dark. Vintus, however, looked amused by Krayson's posturing. Neither Josenthorne's or Maya's expressions had changed at all. Their faces were fixed into stony frowns that betrayed nothing of what they were thinking.

Ranton stepped between Vintus and Krayson. His hands were clasped before him in a pleading gesture. "Please, Your Highness, allow the Order to see to our own affairs. I assure you, all due penance will be exacted."

Vintus scoffed. He reached forward and brushed Ranton aside as if he were child. One of the other assassins seized Ranton by the shoulders to prevent him from interfering. "I did not come to witness your blood magic, old man. I am here to make certain that this loose end is severed. The Krayson has a talent for taking advantage of chaos to save himself. I would prefer to not let that happen again."

Krayson narrowed his eyes. What had Vintus meant by that? He looked briefly towards where he'd last seen Saveen. She was gone. Despite everything, Krayson felt a measure of relief that she had escaped while the room's attention was on him.

There were seven royal assassins within the tower, six of them right in front of Krayson. Father Ranton was restrained and was unlikely to offer help in any case. Lady Starra had taken the smart path by withdrawing when given the chance. Krayson was alone.

Survive, and you've won, his father's voice said to him. Die, and you've lost.

Yet, there was another option. Forbidden. Even thinking of it was anathema to all he had become. The bloodsong pulsed within his veins, calling to him. With one act, a simple tug on the imprint of his blood, and the Merovech's power could be his.

No. I am a blood runner. I fulfill my contract.

Krayson lowered himself into a crouch, one hand pressed to the floor, and prepared to defend himself.

One of his assassins leaned forward and muttered something into Vintus' ear. The prince nodded in acknowledgement.

"Time grows short," Vintus said. He pulled something small from a pouch on his belt and held it forth. It was a silver chain and pendant, a crystal vial filled with dark red blood.

As if the odds weren't stacked against me already, Krayson thought wryly.

Vintus shook his head in derision. "I do not know what you did that my brother would order this destroyed, but I yet have use for it. Let us finish this, Joshuan Krayson, before another steals the pleasure from me."

Running wasn't an option while Vintus held his blood. He couldn't defend himself against an entire coterie of assassins. There was only one chance, remote as it was, for him to survive. Krayson pounced, his voice calling a spirit to increase his speed. He lunged for Vintus, hand outstretched to take the vial of his blood before Vintus could use it to crush him.

Too late. Vintus' osteomancy slammed into Krayson. He fell to the ground as elder magic seized upon his bones. The pressure was excruciating, and his bones would only last a moment more before they all broke at once. Krayson cried out in fear.

He didn't die. The final crack of his bones didn't come. The magic held him, but it didn't end him. Krayson bared his teeth and looked up at Vintus. He expected to see the prince's gloating face as he toyed with Krayson and drew out the execution.

Instead, Vintus' eyes had gone wide with shock. He held forth the pendant again, channeling his magic through it. Krayson felt osteomancy grip him once again, but he found that it wasn't as firm a hold as he would have thought. It was little stronger than when Cathis had demonstrated his elder magic in the throne room. Enough to know the magic was there, but not enough to break his bones.

Krayson managed to get a foot beneath him and pushed himself to stand. Vintus and the other assassins gaped at him in disbelief.

"What in the king's name," Vintus murmured. He tried to shatter Krayson once more, to the same ill effect.

Krayson was just as surprised as His Highness. He moved stiffly while the osteomancy held him, but for some reason, it couldn't break him. He'd survived for the moment and was almost tempted to consider it a miracle.

Why? He asked himself. The bond with Saveen? No, if that was it, then the assassins wouldn't have been able to wipe out the arcanist knights six hundred years ago. When she polymorphed my hands, might it have changed me enough that my blood doesn't connect Vintus' magic to me? That can't be it either. What then? Why am I still alive?

"What are you, Blood Runner?" Vintus asked while drawing his sword.

Krayson, deep down, knew the answer, but it didn't make sense. Nothing he'd learned of what he was could account for surviving an attack by elder magic. But, it did separate him from other arcanists. It was a part of Krayson that neither he or anyone else had ever been able to explain.

"I am twinborn."

The assassins were bemused. A few exchanged glances. Josenthorne was the first to speak. "What's a twinborn?"

Krayson raised his hands towards them. They were stunned that he was still alive, and he perhaps had enough time to show them something truly remarkable.

He closed his eyes.

Five-point double somatic, force and fire essences, conjuration and wind. As his altered hands performed the gestures, he spoke an incantation. "—Immortal king of the brass citadel. Reach unto the world and find me.—"

"I thought you were a witch!" Vintus shouted. "What is this?"

Ether flowed through Krayson's hands, shaped by the somatics into essences. Krayson gave more forward towards the Ethereum, an offering to the greater spirit he invoked. The Ember King was as capricious a god as any, and he delighted in seeing mortals play with fire. Both spells twined their threads together, unison link, becoming more than either could be on their own.

"—Lay thine hands upon my shoulders. Mortal inequity held in burning gaze.—" Each line of Krayson's incantation was accompanied by a new pair of somatics. Spellfire flames burst from his body and spun around him. They were a storm, and Krayson lay at their center.

Everyone held up hands to shield themselves from the intense heat.

Krayson opened his eyes and the assassins recoiled from the baleful glow that had appeared in his red irises. He used as much of his ether as he dared, but held back from drawing through the bond.

"Impossible," an assassin said. He looked ready to charge, but Maya's hand on his arm held him back. Her Highness grabbed Josenthorne and forced her out of the solar door. The other assassins followed, and they pulled Father Ranton along with them.

Only Vintus remained. He manifested wards with his sorcery. "Your tricks won't fool me, boy. I'm ten times the arcanist you could ever be."

Krayson completed his incantation with a roar.

"—Burn all of creation to ash!—"