By a quaint, makeshift pier, three small fishing boats rocked against the steady current. From this side of the Gelder the sea was angrier, colder, darker.

The Whitevain Strait was known to have pulled many a vessel beneath her waves and crush them to splinters, the bodies of sailors lost forever beneath her pitch-black depths; only sailors brave enough to dance with death sailed this route. His stomach lurched. Leothine did not sail easily on the calmest of oceans and aboard the sturdiest of vessels. Behind him he felt the agitation rumble through the warriors at the sight of the flimsy boats knocking against each other by the shore.

He glanced at Corryn's Chief Rakshasa. A lean, black-skinned warrior named Golciz who looked almost blue in the moonlight. He was grinning at Theodan widely. 'I had heard tell of the Leoth's fear of the water, though I had never thought to scent it myself.' He covered his mouth and nose and his men chuckled at the joke. Theodan fought back the urge to scowl.

Inside, the boats were as flimsy as they appeared; each breath he took seeming to cause the old wood to creak and complain beneath him. Hood pulled low of the borrowed cloak he wore, he sat still as night at the bow, while Paliyus of Aphelion balanced the cargo weight at the stern. From where he sat he could see the Leoth's white-knuckled grip on the yard tighten as he grimaced against every bump and kick of the wave. The Four sun kin in each boat rowed in tandem, their movement clean and swift, while they skimmed as close to the shoreline as the vessel allowed.

It took longer than he could have imagined to row to the city walls. The Sun Kin sweating from the effort of heaving the Leothine weight, but finally, the curve of the shore pushed out into the strait and the loom of the city walls came into view, reaching up toward the night sky.

He smelled the stench first. Human waste. Unmistakably. More rotten and pungent than he had ever encountered. He bunched his cloak in his fist and covered his mouth with it, Paliyus doing the same a moment later. It seemed the scent had not yet reached the senses of the kin - in fact; it was some moments later, when the stench was an almost unbearable searing to his own nose, that they appeared to notice it. While the Leothine fought to hold on to their stomachs, the humans showed only a down-turned mouth. He stared in amazement at the rowers, who continued to pull them through the water despite the debilitating stench.

'It is only going to get worse, Leoth,' Golciz advised. 'I would advise you take it in.' This time he scowled beneath his covered mouth as the Raksha gave another amused grin.

By worse, he'd meant they would have to walk through the source of the stench, their boots soaked in it, their noses and throats filled with it, their cloaks heavy with it. After bringing the boats close to a large grated tunnel, the height of himself, where the city's waste poured out into the sea, they climbed out.

A loop of chain fixed around the grate allowed for two kin to pull it from its frame where it quickly sank down into the filthy depths.Then, from a wide shelf of rock, they angled themselves into the waste-filled tunnel. Waste poured past them like a turgid waterfall into the ocean freely. Perhaps this was why the strait was so violent? So determined upon revenge?

On each side of the tunnel was a narrow stairway, though the filth was slick beneath their feet. They stomped in wordless disgust up toward the city. When Caliyus of Aphelion stopped, crouched forward, and emptied his stomach into the running fetid sludge, it was all he could do not to follow. He bit hard on his tongue to force the taste of his own blood down his throat instead and plough onward towards the city.

Finally, a whisper of air kissed his lips. Fresh and with the crisp white night upon it, he breathed it in and quickened his pace, until the kiss became a breeze, more grateful than he had ever been for the sour air of Azura then. Gods, what he would give to be high over the mountain of Teredia at this moment. Had he ever been so thankful for the green-rich air of Leoth than he was now?

As the ground beneath them flattened, the narrow stairway and tunnel gave rise to flat cobbled ground, a shallow well dug into its centre. Ahead, a set of closed gates awaited them. The gates he could see were locked, and for a moment it seemed there was no plan beyond this.

'These were supposed to be unlocked?' He asked Golciz, his throat raw from the stench.

'And they will be,' came his easy reply. He rested himself against the wall of the tunnel. 'For now, we wait.'

And so they waited, heavy with stink, pressed into the shadows of the sewer entrance and out of sight of the occasional passing citizen. It was not long before a female dressed in a long dark and her hair a riot of red curls, stepped out from the shadows beyond the locked gates.

He watched as Golciz went toward her, though instead of passing her coin, he reached through the grate and pulled her to him. She kissed him deeply, apparently undeterred by the stench. The female made a soft purring noise against his mouth, then, without words, reached into her gown and retrieved a weighty bunch of keys, and opened the gate. When they were out of the tunnel, she locked the gate again and slid the bunch back into her cloak.

'There. If this fails, then he shall never know they were gone,' she smiled. 'I have unlocked the servant's gate on the eastern wall; it shall lead you up into the storehouse. My ladies have long used it.'

Then she held out her open palm.

Golciz, with a close-lipped smile, reached into his tunic and produced a bag of coin.

She took it and slipped it into the pocket of her cloak where she had put the keys. 'You know for you I would do most anything,' she said with a seductive curl of her lips. 'But it is my girls I shall see well insured in case this should fail.'

'It shall not fail,' Golciz said. 'But if it should, you know where to wait. You and your women shall have a home with the tribe for as long as you require it.'

The female smiled, warmly. 'Now go, for you all stink far more than I can bear, and I have borne much in my time.'

'Be careful, Muara,' Golciz warned. 'For I should not be able to forgive myself if any harm comes to you.'

She waved a hand as she skipped away from them. 'You are turning soft, Raksha. When you know I much prefer you hard...'

A few of the kin chuckled quietly and then the female was gone, swallowed back into the shadows of the city.

With a fist, Golciz motioned them forward and they moved on through the subdued city, signals of its occupation by Zybar all around them. The damage he had helped wrought on their last visit still evident in the quarter they moved through now; across the ruins of broken villas, temples, and markets. Down crumbling lanes and alleyways and over toppled walls toward the shining palace high on the hill. Their goal shone like a jewel above them now, the large circular dome of the throne room glowing as though afire against the night sky.

If Panos had not betrayed them, then they had little time left before the bells would ring out. So he attempted to quicken the pace, moving ahead of Golciz toward the entry point cut into the polished wall upon which the palace sat - the servant's gate beneath the Golden Palace. No guard stood by the small wooden door cut into the wall, and he held his breath as Golciz reached for the handle.

This was the moment he would know whether his courtesan could be trusted. The metallic sound of iron being released sung from the door and the door fell open inwardly. It seemed Golciz had not doubted her, for he saw no relief wash over the Raksha's face.

Inside was another dank stairwell, cold and dark and leading upward, and it was here they finally shed the dark cloaks sodden with waste they still wore. It struck him then; how differently they had stormed this castle the first time. Now they snuck into its bowels like parasites, reeking of excrement and heavy with exhaustion.

He turned to see Paliyus and Aydin had found a running drain dripping from high on the stone wall, and reached up to its mouth now to wash the filth from their hands and knees. He moved to do the same. The water was rainfall and tasted stagnant and tepid on his tongue, but he was thankful for it all the same.

Cleaner, they moved up the dark stairwell through a warren of sloping turns through the rock itself. Finally, they reached its end and crept out into a large storage space. Where once this would have been stocked high with wine, flour, grain, meats and cheese - enough supplies to feed an entire palace, it was now almost barren. Forced to feed the insatiable appetites of an invading army.

Up ahead, he saw the store broke off into another space and within it he sensed movement; the scent and sound of humans. He halted the men behind him and peered around into the small store.

'Two Zybar by the entry - Six slaves,' he said as he retreated back into the shadows.

'No slaves are to be harmed, Leothine.' Virsho, Corryn's second Raksha, warned him.

This time, Theodan did scowl. 'We're here to spill Zybar blood.'

'We shall need to be quick,' Golciz said, moving on. 'We cannot afford for them to raise the alarm before the gates have been closed.'

Theodan nodded, agreeing. He raised his hand to Paliyus to show that he and Theodan would move into the storeroom to take down the Zybar.

However, before they made to move, a human strode from the storehouse into the corridor carrying a weighty sack. At the sight of them, he dropped it, his eyes rounding with surprise and then horror at the sight of the armed Leothine. An elderly man, crooked with age, he wore traditional Azurian dress along with the bruises of one who did not carry out this work for coin.

Golciz reached out to grab the male toward him and turned to press him against the wall almost gently. 'We do not come to hurt you, Anthsai.' He told him, soft. The word was a show of respect for the age and wisdom of an elderly male. The man flicked his eyes toward Theodan, fearfully. 'They too are here to rid this palace of the Zybar mutts,' Golciz told him. 'Tell me, how many of those dogs stand guard over you?'

'T-two, Majalis.' Soldier. 'There is always more on the outside.'

Golciz nodded. 'I urge you find somewhere to hide, Anthsai, for soon this place shall run with the blood of men and monsters alike. If we are victorious, you will know of it.' He released him and the man blinked and cowered away from them down the corridor.

Just then a sound cut through the air, through the thick stone walls of the building in which they stood. He felt its vibration through his entire body, his spine straightening. The ringing of the city's bells was thunderous, even from this distance, yet it was welcome. Panos had done it. The city gates were closing.

'If we can convince them an attack is imminent, they will close the city gates. By this time you shall already be inside. This is how we shall take the city; by taking the palace and then commander first. We will force their surrender - before they know we have even struck.'

At the sound of the city's bells, the chaos erupted inside the storeroom. The slaves crying out with panic at the sound; for the last time the city's bells had rung, a Leoth army hammered at the city's gates. What they imagined might be happening now, he could not guess.

The guards roared for them to calm, however their commands were cut off as he and Paliyus moved into the storehouse toward them. Paliyus leapt upon the closest as he swung at the other; a downward swing of his blade lodging in the neck of the largest guard, blood spurting from the wound as he yanked his sword back to free it from the flesh and bone. His stomach roared with hunger as the Zybar slumped to the ground on his knees, hot wet blood pumping from his throat.

Without another thought, Theodan fell upon him and brought his mouth to the open wound and drank deep. Then he stood and motioned his men to do the same. He felt the power rush through him at once. It filled him with the strength he needed, the strength the sun had stolen from him. His heart thundered quick in his chest, power siphoning through his veins. As he stood, he staggered slightly, the vigour of the Zybar's blood making him momentarily lightheaded.

Bracing himself against the wall until his mind settled, he turned to assess the room. Golciz watched him, his eyes cloaked with a measure of disgust, before signalling for them to move out.

Before exiting the room, Theodan turned to the slaves within the storehouse. They quaked where they stood, terrified under his gaze.

'I advise you lock this door behind us and do not open it again until you see the dawn. Or, if it inclines you to fight, pick up a sword and kill as many Zybar as you can.' He gestured at the fallen Zybar's sword. The males said nothing. As they exited the small outbuilding, he heard the door lock behind him.

There were no more Zybar guards outside, and a quick scan of the curtain wall showed no signs of archers or bowmen either. He motioned the group forward, crouched between a row of perfectly preened trees and the high eastern curtain wall. Beneath the first battlement where the large brazier was lit, he motioned to Caliyus of Aphelion to take the opposite side. Then, soundlessly, they scaled the wall.

The blood had strengthened his claws to steel spikes and his body felt stronger than it had in days. It took them only moments to reach the top, leaping over as one to surprise the patrol. Raising his knee, he kicked the Zybar soldier hard in the chest just as he turned, the force strong enough to send the soldier hurtling backwards over the battlement wall and down the outside of the castle. He made no sound as he fell.

He ducked as another swung a steel mace at him, but he was not swift enough. The weapon crunched against his shoulder, but the bloodlifting meant he felt little pain.

A low spinning kick as he retrieved his short blade from his boot brought the second Zybar to the ground. He finished him by driving the point of his blade through the space between the breastplate and helmet. As he retrieved the blade, the warm spurt of fresh blood sprayed across his face and he used his tongue to gather some into his mouth.

As they scaled back down the battlement wall, he saw Nethlios and Aydin leap over the top of the next rampart to deal with the second patrol in a similar style.

Across the ruined Palace gardens the sun kin flitted gracefully over the low wall to disappear behind the western wing of the palace toward the front courtyard. This was where they would draw any Zybar inside the palace or its grounds to the fight. He caught up with the remaining Leoth, Rahle and Kaerius, at the edge of the palace gardens, as Nethlios and Aydin rejoined them too.

Unlike the first time he stormed these grounds, he took a moment to imagine Fara walking the polished pathways he rushed through now, through the scented fruit trees they used as cover, the fish-laden ponds he lept over. Had Galyn of Azura stalked her through them, mind bent on violence and pain? It made him glad then that what lay in their place now was naught but a trampled bed of herbage and upturned soil, the marble paths smashed to smithereens.

Up ahead he spied the stables, where the number of steeds inside would tell him if the Zybar chief had sent his mounted soldiers outside the city to await the attack as they had planned. The numbers guarding the castle appeared to be few, and how many roamed the city he did not know.

But it was here Corryn had laid his master strike. A hundred of his kin wearing scavenged Zybar helmets and armour. When the attack came upon those left guarding the enclosed city, Zybar would not know under darkness whether it came from friend or foe.

'Salvaged from any fallen Zybar soldier we felled. Those we happened upon in the woods, in the villages, and in the farms across this land. You truly thought us hiding away in the mountains from you? Our warfare is not like your own, Theodan, but it does not mean it is not warfare. They will enter the city under daylight. Hide in plain sight.'

It was a ploy even Theodan had had to applaud.

Suddenly a high-pitched female scream rose from inside the stable. He held up his hand to halt the warriors. Half lit inside, the stable was a low white brick building built into the inner curtain wall, though separated from palace itself by a wide garden and tall, now overgrown, hedgerow. They crept toward the structure slowly. He could scent the males inside, and the single female; Zybar filth, female blood, and unimaginable despair.

A low growl rumbled from him as he motioned for three leoth to move around the building to the front. He heard the soldiers laugh, the sound of flesh being struck, and then the sound of the female cry out once more, meeker this time. As for mares, he scented only a small number.

When Paliyus of Aphelion appeared at the opposite entrance he gave a nod, and they moved into the stable as one. It was a vast space, erected to hold one hundred or more steeds, easily. The Zybar were near the centre, the female's wailing growing louder as they neared her. He'd a sense of ten Zybar, perhaps a few more, and as the female screamed again he hoped for a hundred of the dogs so he could send each one to their deaths.

The wide area near the centre was for use by the farrier and stable master. Low benches around a fire now, where a group of Zybar sat drinking ale. His blood sang to him, his teeth aching for the fight, for the blood of these dogs to be spilled. He did not need to motion to Aydin, for they felt the same instinct.

They moved as one, a blur of violence through the group of twelve Zybar. The soldiers had chained the woman to a tall post, and as he tore the male from her and threw him against a stable door, she slumped to her knees; her gaze expressionless, blank. With his sword he blocked the battleaxe as a soldier swung it at him, then grabbed it by the handle and yanked the soldier towards him. He let go of the axe, grabbed him by the shoulders and brought his throat to his mouth to tear at it.

The bitter taste of ale, spent arousal, and fear washed over him as the blood ran thick and hot down his throat. He dropped the spasming body and turned. The soldier he'd thrown across the stable climbed to his feet now, but Theodan leapt across the space toward him. As he brought his blacksword down on the male's bare chest, he felt a sharp stab of pain in his right calf from a concealed blade. Still, his blade crunched through the ribcage and into the Zybar's heart with ease.

Then, for good measure, he twisted it.

When he stood, all Zybar but one were dead.

'Leave him alive,' Theodan said, panting. He reached down to inspect his wound. The dog had thrust through his boot into the muscle. There was no pain, but it bled heavily. The bloodlifting would stop it soon enough.

Aydin had freed the woman from the post and she fell forward into his arms, weak and trembling. She pushed him away from her and steadied herself. Theodan walked across the space toward her, took her in. She was not much older than Fara, he guessed; a palace servant, perhaps. Round-faced and pretty, with dark skin and large grape coloured eyes.

'His death is your right,' Theodan told her.

He thought of Iaria then, of her broken and bruised body, used in the same way this woman's had been. Her body taken and used for the pleasure of a pack of rabid males. Used to inflict suffering and pain upon her. Would she ever feel upon it the same again? It sickened him in the same way it always did.

Aydin held his short blade out to her, and for a moment she only stared at it. Theodan thought she would refuse, as Fara had refused to condemn the Zybar the night he found her upon the sand. Most females had not the stomach for a death such as this.

But then, without a word, she took the blade and strode across to where Rahle held the Zybar against him. Rahle, it seemed, sensed what she planned, and moved his hand to cover the Zybar's mouth and muffle his screams.

The female thrust the Leoth steel blade into his groin repeatedly. Long after the man hung lifeless in Rahle's arms, her arm grew tired. She slowed, then stopped. As she wandered backwards to hand Aydin back his blade, she looked up at Theodan.

'You will never have my thanks, Leoth,' she told him. 'But if you kill every one of these dogs, perhaps one day I shall cease cursing your existence.'

He bowed his head. 'If you have somewhere you can hide, do it now.'

Without another word, she gathered the front of her torn gown together and hurried away in the direction from which they had come. They had taken too long here, he knew, and so they hurried now to the large courtyard in front of the palace. His memory of it the last time he saw it was clear; searching the faces of the terrified maids for the one he'd seen in the throne room. For Fara.

Even before they rounded into the courtyard, they heard the clash of metal. The kin fought a troop of Zybar who streamed out from the guardhouse. As they rushed toward them, he scanned the walls again, checking the ramparts and flanking towers once more for archers or spearmen. On the western wall he spotted a few and so signalled for the Leoth to aid the kin, while he and Aydin charged toward the curtain wall.

He saw the fear on the faces of the Zybar as he leapt up the wall in front of them, surprise perhaps that it was he who came to deliver death to them now. It pleased him.

Another heavy kick forced another archer backwards over the ramparts and tumbling down onto the rocks. He watched Aydin snapped another's neck with little force before moving along the parapet walk toward the next group of three. He took an arrow to the shoulder as he ran, but it did not slow him as he leapt high into the air, sword raised, to drive it down into the eye of the attacking bowman.

The sound of a horn calling out across the bailey pulled his head around. An injured guardsman lay on the ground by the guard tower. He spun to sever the last archer's head before turning to speed back along the parapet. Leaping the double height into the air, he landed crouched next to the guardhouse. The soldier blew once more on the horn before throwing it at Theodan and scrambling behind him for his sword.

'You?' The young Zybar said, thrusting his sword toward feebly him. Theodan swung his long-sword upward to sever his arm, before ramming the blade down through the soldier's light leather armour.

'T'ras Leoth,' he spat, wiping the blood from his eyes. He turned back to assess the courtyard. While Corryn's men moved with speed and grace around the soldiers, distracting them, tiring them, he could see it was Leoth the Zybar feared. He quickly counted the number of kin still fighting. Eight. They'd lost four? Or had they gone inside this soon?

'The palace we take last. Do not go inside until you are sure it leaves only the commander and his Sharan inside. They will want to hold the palace. They will choose the most fortified room. 'The throne room,' he said. 'It is the most fortified room. Made entirely of gold.'

He sped toward where three Zybar surrounded Golciz by a colossal marble statue of the goddess, her head long tumbled from her body onto the esplanade. From behind he rushed at one, swinging his blade with sharp precision to separate a Zybar's head from its neck. Golciz grinned at him before feinting right, his parry against a Zybar blade dextrous and impressive.

Behind him, Theodan heard an approach and turned just in time to avoid the swing of a heavy blunt. The Zybar was a large tattooed soldier of almost Leothine proportion.

'Theodan of Teredia!' the Zybarian roared. 'I have long wished to face you in battle. It seems the Gods have chosen this day!' He laughed a low rumbling laugh and raised the blunt above his head before bringing it down hard in a forward swing. Theodan ducked, spun low, and placed a precise slice across the Zybar's calf, close to where his own wound now healed.

The sound of bone shattering pleased him, though the large Zybar merely huffed his irritation, turning his enormous body around to charge him again. 'Is this your army now, beast? These mountain rats? Ha!'

Theodan jumped backward as the large blade came at him again, slow-moving but powerful in its strength. It lodged deep into the grass this time, and as the Zybar struggled to pull it free, Theodan saw his opening. He sprung forward in a circular motion and shoved his short blade between the Zybar's armor and into the thick muscle of his stomach.

This time the Zybar felt the cut. He roared, doubling over with pain. As he yanked his blunt free of the grass it swung high, grazing Theodan's sword hand and knocking his long blade out of his grip. He flung himself onto his back out of reach, before flipping himself onto his feet again. As he glanced around him for his sword, he felt a dull pain shoot through his arm as the blunt caught his shoulder. Whipping around and he hissed his fury at the Zybar, baring his teeth at the soldier who stalked toward him.

'Come on Leoth, you have more in you yet, surely? The greatest warrior in the four realms cannot be so easily beaten...' He taunted. 'I shall enjoy ripping you limb from limb, pulling those teeth from your head before I piss into your skull.'

The dog was tired, Theodan could see. Large humans tired easily. Far easier than Leothine did. So Theodan led him a little, toying with him until impatience got the better of the Zybar and he charged. This time Theodan let him. Making sure his short blade was low and angled out of sight, he tensed his body to receive the Zybar's full weight.

The hulk fell onto him and Theodan hugged him to his body as he thrust the short sword up through the leather battledress into the fat thundering heart beneath it. Then he twisted it until he felt the muscle spasm to a stop. The blood burst from the dog's mouth, his dead eyes wide with surprise.

'You talk too much,' Theodan said, before rolling him over onto the grass.

'Behind you, Leoth!!' he heard Golciz call out across the courtyard. Spinning just as a soldier rushed toward him, sword thrust low. Feinting left, he spun, kicking the Zybar forward to the ground from the back. He pounced atop him and gripped him by the hair to expose his throat and drew his blade across it before ripping the head from its body. Theodan scrambled across the grass to finally retrieve his blacksword. When he stood and glanced across the bailey, the Raksha was grinning wildly at him.

He turned, looking up at the sky to find the moon. How high was it? How much time had passed since they'd left the base of the Gelder?

The bloodlifting had turned his head hot and gauzy; weightless, as though it might lift from his body and float away from him into the clouds. He was struck then from behind, a Zybar charging him forwards onto the grass.

He felt a sharp piercing pain just above his hip and felt the steel slide into his hardened flesh. Reaching up behind him, he thrust both sets of claws into the soldier's neck, twisting them inside the hot flesh. The Zybar scrambled away and Theodan jumped back to his feet, raising his sword with both hands to block a strike from another soldier's blunt. His blade snapped the mace in two, surprising the Zybar.

The moment's pause gave Theodan the chance to kick, propelling the soldier backward and crashing into a low stone wall. He saw another approach from his right and turned just in time to block the oncoming strike of the sword.

There was more Zybar than he had counted upon, some had rushed out from the palace. Across the courtyard he saw another Kin fall to a Zybar sword, though Paliyus leapt to slice his blade down the spine of the same Zybar a moment later.

Just as another Zybar charged toward him, he heard it. The unmistakable flapping of wings, the unmistakable cry of the Leoth moving into battle. He could not afford to glance up again though as another powerful strike came at him from his left. He dodged, feinting right, before spinning low to sever the soldier's leg at the ankle. The Zybar who charged toward him now had also heard the sound from above, and he glanced upward. An instant later, an arrow was shot into his eye and he collapsed to the grass, screaming.

Theodan glanced upward.

'Only when we're sure no archer or bowmen remain will we risk the Varveh. We must hold the Zybar charge on the ground until it is safe.'

Draden led the flock of Varveh as they circled over the palace to the courtyard, their battle cries raining down from the sky. Corryn's best archers rode behind the Leothine, unleashing a torrent of arrows upon the Zybar below.

Theodan rolled to avoid being struck as two perfectly timed shafts thrust into the skull of the Zybar closest to him. The Varveh flew in formation, close together, and in a wide arch over the bailey as they looked for a place to land. Corryn rode behind Draden, Ismene behind Vala, the other Leoth each ferrying a Sun Kin tribesmen from the mountain to the fight.

He turned to take in the courtyard once more. The Zybar were now easily outnumbered, the Varveh each coming to land upon a grassy knoll near the palace gates, the Leoth and Kin leaping from their saddles into the fray. He turned toward the palace. The doors were flung wide open and a shimmering golden glow spilled out into the moonlight.

As blind obedience had pulled him towards it that day, some power far greater than himself, pulled him toward it now. The battle continued to ring out behind him as he strode up the marbled steps and inside.

The golden staircase inside stretched up like a pathway to the immortal realm itself, built five hundred years ago for those of the First Blood. The polished gold glowed bright from the great window at the top of the staircase so that it appeared as though liquid gold poured from it toward him.

The instant he entered, he saw it shimmer, as though a curtain had fallen away so that the palace appeared as it did the first time he entered it. He felt the sun at his back, heard the screams of the palace servants as they were hauled out into the day by the Zybar soldiers. He took the stairs in giant leaps, as he had done before, the death of the Zybar commander and his Sharan all that raged through him now. To cleanse this place of the Zybar filth, to make it fit for her return.

Limp, unmoving bodies lay inside each chamber he passed, blood scouring the walls, the stench of men and blood sour in his nose. His bloodied feet dripped death across the black polished floor as he moved toward the domed room that was visible even from the peak of the Gelder.

The palace was quiet, eerily so, causing a knot of dread to form in the pit of his stomach.

The throne room doors were thrown wide, where before they had been bolted closed. He froze and took in the sight. The small body swung lifeless, eyes dead and staring, flesh purpled and grotesque.

Sander will pose as your guide, whom you promised a bag of gold if he would lead you to the palace. See he is paid and let him leave the palace. He should be well out of the way of the fighting when it begins.

On the floor near to Sander, a lifeless body lay face down in a heap; the prince's armour soaked in blood. The scent of death was all he could taste, and it told him they had both been dead some hours, far beyond what the Arayis may have done.

Had Panos betrayed them only to be killed after? Or had they taken the Prince's word and sacrificed him anyway? To ensure Leoth's blame for the prince's death? Did Zybar gather outside the city's gates now? Or had they fled? Either way this would not be the end of it. They would not let the city go so easily he knew.

He moved toward the boy slowly, using his short blade to cut the rope looped over the tall vaulted ceiling. The loss he felt as he lowered the boy to the floor was unexpected, acute. Of course the Zybar would take no mercy upon a child. He knew that better than most. He should not have let Corryn use him. The failure was his own. The boy should never have been used.

He closed the boys eyes with his hands and closed his own to say a silent prayer. He moved to do the same with the prince, rolling his body onto its back into the pool of blood in which he lay.

It was not Panos of Calate. A palace slave wore in the prince's armor, the throat sliced wide open. As he knelt by the body he felt that strange echo of experience move over him once more, of familiarity. He turned now. To where Fara had stood the day he'd held her dying prince in his arms just like this.

Silent promises of a thousand painful deaths delivered by a smooth sun-kissed hand. A ferocious coupling in the grass under as the rain fell. Theodan on his knees begging forgiveness and declaring his undying love. A woman birthing a child as thunder crackled and lit up the dark red sky outside. A battlefield the likes of which he had never seen. A landscape as grey and dark as the depths of the ash sea with thousands upon thousands of blackened corpses strewn across it.

A faint glimmer. A ripple on moving water.

As the images had flooded his mind in the instant he first looked upon her, so they did again now, pulling him with them backward through Fara's own mind it seemed.

She held the knife steady at her throat as she stared at him across the room, deep golden eyes filled with hate and defiance. Galyn commanding she leave the city as the armies of Zybar and Leoth hammered at the city's gates. Her refusal to abandon him.

Her tears as her babe bled from within her onto the purple silk sheets of their marital bed. Her love for him clear in her eyes. A grand ship moving over the waves as she and Galyn laughed with unadorned joy. Their lovemaking - soft and gentle - tears of love shimmering in both their eyes.

Fara kneeling where he knelt now speaking the vows of union to Galyn of Azura, Sylvan looking on from his throne, Arielle by his side. The prince smiling back at her with radiant affection. Their pledge to each other in the altar of a Calatian temple.

Fara as she had been in his dream the night before, spun in the prince's arms around a majestic ballroom roofed with glass. Then she wore a heavy velvet cloak as she stood in the shadowy, crowded emporium of an apothecary. An aged female handed her a small glinted circlet of silver and instructed her what words she should invoke. Then he recognised where the vision pulled him, for he had been here before. Had seen this thing before.

Fara lay on a bed of rich gold silk, the bed above her regal and opulent. Her hands fisted the sheets as tears wept silent from her eyes. Her blood and pain both sweet and luscious like honey. A male hand held open her thighs, gripping the soft flesh hard. A monarchial heir's ring on the forefinger, the sigil twisted away from him. A small ornate dagger lay discarded upon the silk.

The male's voice spoke low and close and burned with tenderness. 'Your body is a marvel, my love. It betrays you even as you lay. Do you see what sorcery runs in your veins now? How strong your poison is? How completely I am your slave?'

He blinked and the vision shattered. The male was not Galyn of Azura. Not that boy prince he had felled here in this room. It had never been him and the knowledge of what he had been so blind to cleaved a hole through his chest, through his entire soul. He struggled to stand as the prince of Calate's words rang hollow through his memory.

Did my sister ever speak to you of our brother, Theodan of Teredia?

The dream which had haunted him last night slid into his consciousness again, vivid, suffocating.

Dark. Chaotic. Impenetrable. He knew with certainty that he would hurt her then, in fact, he longed to hurt her then. Use her in unspeakable ways.

Rage tore through him, a storm of fire and fury as he staggered backwards, his claws lengthening once more.

You do not know my brother, Leoth! He will not stop. I am alive only because I have convinced him I am no threat. Because I have pretended to ignore... Leoth. For where Fara was Azura, Valdr was Leoth. Always.

Gods, what had he done? How could he have been so blind? Fara had all but told him, all but begged him to protect her.

'Theodan you must promise me that you will live. Promise me you will do whatever you must? Promise me you will survive. That you will come for me?'

How could he ever hope to earn her forgiveness now? He fell to his knees again, this time before the effigy of the Goddess atop Azura's throne, and let out a roar of anguish, tears of pain and fury in his eyes as he did. Everything made sense to him then. Everything she had kept hidden from him toppling finally out into the light and he knew now that there would be no other end to this thing.

There would be no peace in the four realms while Valdr of Calate lived. For he would tear every realm apart, slaughter every soldier in his path, crush all of Ethis to dust if it meant his destruction.

He felt the light in his soul dim once more, his heart naught but a black heaving fist of rage.

'Forgive me, my love,' he whispered. 'Gods, forgive me. I am coming for you...'