Maura watched the chaos unfold before the capital, standing atop one of the few remaining intact structures. She'd spotted her father leading the soldiers, overwhelming and recruiting those who had before stood loyal to Pollin. It must have been Kommora Haigh who'd sent the message to her father. She must have also predicted this occurring; it was a good three days' journey from Cliffe, after all. Maura remembered the last she'd seen of her father, two years ago, sentenced publically to exile and humiliated by King Pollin for failing to answer to his duties. The gasps of shock from the lower-ranked soldiers who'd revered him. The stunned looks on the senior generals' faces. And the sadistic triumph on the king's mages'. Because Rowan failed to take back Acrise and lost the border at Ebbsfleet. Knowing what the king's mages were up to, now, it was easy to see this was out of her or Rowan's control and, indeed, wholly unrelated to their faults and mistakes. The exile was planned from the beginning; Edgard Woodbead had known too much, suspected too much, and had too much power. Rowan and Eiden were just chess pieces in this game.

She was only glad Kommora was on their side and played the game well; she of all of them knew how to manipulate people to work against the king's mages, and right now it was sheer numbers they had in advantage over their powerful magics.

Karma's rune. It sounded almost ridiculous and Maura would have laughed it off as conspiratorial drivel had it not come from Kommora's own mouth. If it went as planned for the king's mages, the country of Karma would be dead and the king's mages powerful beyond measure.

She rested her hand on the reassuring heavy gun at her belt. Soldiers fought against the demonically powerful creatures that had stormed Acrise. A giant nullifier would certainly also put those at rest, but the impediment to the king's mages would only be temporary. They would need a more solid means to catch them -- or execute them -- before the effects wore off and they would plot anew.

She pinched a piece of paper with her other hand: a map of Benover with the main points circled in chalk. With the right modifying sigils, she could expand the effect and, with the soldiers spreading each rune across the major points of the city, a domino effect could ensue, assuming there were no disruptions to each of the critical areas. And with the mess before it, that was a big 'if'.

Edgard Woodbead's embellished uniform flashed in the setting sunlight, leading his men as they stormed the market streets and fanned out. Night would soon fall. Soldiers would need to rest and replenish their inventories. But magic was not hindered by human physical fatigue; the king's mages would likely use that time to their advantage.

The remaining soldiers began to surrender, their arsenal depleted and their numbers turning against them. Good. They and any remaining citizens would need to be evacuated from the city. Now it was a battle with magic; the more that stayed, the more power the king's mages would have. Maura could only hope they had enough time to cancel out the Karma rune, or at least confine it within Benover.

The smoke still sat heavy in the air; the smouldering flames from flash and burst magic continued in the fallen remains of the city. Charred frames of wooden huts poked out from amidst the piles of rubble and shattered glass. The remaining buildings were streaked with black and their window panes clung onto the leftover glass pieces. Dead bodies -- humans as well as monsters -- lay strewn across the streets, some half-eaten by the creatures, others crushed beneath toppled structures.

And several streets away, stumbling like a drunk, was Rinoa Gruger.

Without a word, Maura paused in planning the layout of the nullifier and drew her gun. With still arms and precision, she aimed, narrowed her eyes -- and fired.

Gruger flinched, her back arched, and collapsed. Crumpled on the ground, she began to scream.

Maura stuck her map and chalk in her cloak pocket and descended, hurrying to the fallen king's mage. The street was empty of life. The cries of the injured and screeches of the creatures had long disappeared. The loose ground slid beneath her boots. Her cloak flapped in her wake. She kept her gun trained on Gruger, approaching with caution. She could see both of Gruger's hands, clutching the leg she'd hit. Gruger whimpered, eyes widening with fear at the sight of Maura approaching. She would be in too much pain to summon burst right now.

"You have information I need," said Maura in a soft voice. Gruger sniffed, eyes wet and blood trickling down her chin from biting her lips .

"Do whatever you want with me. I'm as good as dead," she said in a broken voice. Maura frowned. This was a very different attitude to the aloof and deadly quiet front Gruger had the last time Maura saw her -- in the hall of declarations shortly before her runes incinerated all the mages.

Maura paused to analyse her. It could be a trap. But Gruger's eyes were downcast, her shoulders slumped, her trembling hands still clutching firm on the bloody gunshot wound in her thigh. Her cheeks sunk beneath ivory white skin. Her cloak was still intact and not an injury could be seen on her person aside from what Maura inflicted. She had the air of a defeated follower, but without any physical injuries.

Maura stepped forward, drawing out a pre-prepared indigo rune and activating it. She knelt before Gruger, applying the glowing rune to the base of Gruger's throat whilst tucking her gun away. Gruger grunted, her eyes rolling. Maura sat cross-legged, clapping both hands on Gruger's shoulders to keep her still as Gruger's head arched backwards.

The images played before her eyes as seen from Gruger's point of view.

"I gave you one job, Rinoa: exile Seiren Nithercott." Kristen Harred's voice cut to Rinoa's core. Deadly. Unsympathetic. "And yet here she is. If you cannot get a simple job like that done, you should not contribute to the discussion. Whether she'll see it my way is not a decision for you to make."

Domic, the prideful and calculating one, could not see it.

"Why won't you listen to me, Domic?"

Domic laughed in her face. "I have every faith in Kristen. There is nobody alive strong enough to counter her magic, not with her level of skills and the entire military in our hands. You have disappointed her again and again, Rinoa. That reflects more on you than any of us. You heard her: if you can't be helpful, then stay out of the way. We don't need collateral damage."

"Her dogged belief in her girl is a weakness."

"Your doubt in our abilities is a weakness, too. Our new world has no need for weakness." His eyes narrowed. "Is there something I need to know about?"

Rinoa had no power, no power beyond what the king's mages were able to bring out of her. And he knew that, played it to his advantage all these years without the others realising. He knew the lack in confidence meant carefully-chosen words would make her kneel at his feet -- and he enjoyed it.

And Karis -- Karis, whose loyalty to Kristen had been unwavering, all this time, did not yield.

"She didn't hesitate to burn your arm off." Rinoa had never understood how Karis could work with Kristen after that, let alone forgive her.

"Faults must be rectified. This was for the greater good, even if it's for that brat."

"That brat whom you will never measure up to. Despite all your jealousy."

Karis's eyes flashed with anger. "You watch your mouth, Rinoa."

"Kristen almost killed you for touching her daughter. What makes you think she'll see you as any more than a weapon once Seiren Nithercott stands by her side?"

"You're wrong. If you're going to betray us, Rinoa, then I'll be forced to get rid of you now. That's what Kristen would have wanted."

Karis's merciless grin bore no trace of the camaraderie Rinoa thought they'd shared in the six years she'd been a king's mage. Karis would have followed Kristen to the end of the earth only to be shot by her with no complaint. Rinoa understood. She felt the same way about Zor. Zor would listen to her. He'd always supported her.

"Zor, please listen to me. This mission will fail if we continue as Kristen wishes," Rinoa said, clutching Jarsdel's sleeve. Jarsdel jerked his arm out of her grasp.

"Our entire mission is around Kristen's idea and we play by her call. Without her, the celestial magic can't be harvested."

"Why do you all believe her so? She's mad! She's throwing this all away for that stupid girl of hers!"

"It's more than that, Rinoa. Kristen is paving the path to the new world. We go by what she says."

"She's lost the way. The feelings she has for that brat will jeopardise everything."

"I'm warning you, Rinoa. You'll be treated the same as Cronin Sallows if you continue this ridiculous talk."

Rinoa paused, reading between the lines.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Zor's eyes were like the depths of the arctic, endless and unforgiving. "I will not deign to answer that question."

"That's why you're so loyal to her. Even though I've followed you for sixteen years, you've never looked at me." The truth had been there all along. The confirmation did not make the realisation hurt any less.

"You had potential. I nourished it. You became useful to the king's mages."

"I was merely a game piece?"

"We needed a rune mage after Kristen's disappearing act. You are that rune mage."

"And now?"

His look told her enough.

"I would have taken a rune for you." Her voice broke. "I would have done anything. I'd done everything. Given up everything."

"Precisely."

He might as well have gouged out her heart.

"They used you and tossed you aside, huh?"

Maura almost felt sorry for her, had she not witnessed first-hand just how deadly Gruger's eternal fire runes could be. A talented but naive mage, who caught the eyes of the king's mages, one who could use runes of a similar calibre to Kristen Harred, but did not have the headstrong ideas that would conflict with their ideals. One brainwashed to do their bidding, tossed aside like used rune paper when done. One who did not know how to play the game, but became one of the pieces.

But she had valuable information.

"I'm sorry. Bear with me."

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