Sacri's golden Streaks slammed into his brother's, the glitter of black edging his magic coils mirroring the dark shine in his eyes. Feli's booted feet skidded on the stone paving as he brought up his scimitar into a ready position, his own silver Streaks rushing forward to counter the attack.

The clash of blades and the stretched tension of the air surrounded them as the two brothers fought, their magic and weapons blocking and thrusting, seeking any opening in the other's defenses. Sacri kept throwing his Streaks at his brother, kept feeling them being repelled. His sword flashed as he parried Feli's scimitar, seeking to keep his brother back.

Cyren and Ocutus dueled several feet away, fire and ebony Streaks flickering as they struggled. All around them, Black Elves battled the Light Elves, seeking to maintain control over Sanas. But inch by inch, bit by bit, they were forced into giving ground, the blood of the Light Elves paving their comrades' march forward.

Sacri put his heart into fighting his brother, his customary rage replaced by a determination fueled half by despair and half by a strange acceptance. His sense of today being the end had not only grown after Ocutus summoned him, it had even slightly changed its message. He had been given clarity to finally understand his parents' reluctance to rein his cultic actions in.

For years, he had puzzled over their apparent inaction against him. Feli's anger, his rantings, his wild predictions of the future of Riko, none of it had moved them to do more than talk softly, sadly, to Sacri about what he was doing, in a way that showed their broken hearts over his reckless abandonment of the norms of society. But they hadn't done more, and now he understood.

The peace in Riko had been balanced more precariously than either brother had been able to see. They had assumed they knew the extent of its position and had acted off of those assumptions. But their parents had seen farther and deeper than they had ever suspected or attempted to see, and had foreseen this. Perhaps not this particular outcome, but, by a gift from the Streaks or even from the faraway gods of sun and moon, they had been granted knowledge of the nature of the peace among the Elves.

And that peace was now eternally jeopardized, eternally broken.

The peace would die, no matter what. No matter which brother won, the days of peace and prosperity for both castes would die. Because although united under Feli now, and they would be united with Feli for as long as Sacri lived, the peace couldn't last, not with Feli's Lunar blessing and preference. And Cyren's words, following the funeral of the king and queen, came back to him now.

"We need to provide the people with a strong, united front here. Prince Sacri, Prince Feli, I know you have your differences, but you need to place those aside for now, to show your people the strength they need to see in you right now."

Cyren had been trusted by the monarchs. Perhaps he had been given enough sight to see the end. But then why had he chosen to side against Sacri?

Sacri ducked as Feli swung his blade at his head, jabbing at his brother's abdomen and making him twist and fall away. Perhaps Cyren had realized there was no united front to be had and thought to choose the least dividing option.

I can't stop this.

Sacri fell upon his brother with his sword, leaving a glancing wound in his upper arm as his blade slid through the gemcloth armor. Feli rolled away from the king, flipping to his feet once beyond the reach of the sword. The blood that stained his armor reminded Sacri of the blood he had called forth from Oliven's convulsing body to detect the names of all those who had participated in the murder of his parents.

His fingers twitched. He could summon the blood to flow unceasingly from the minor wound; he could suck the life out of his brother and end this, here and now. He could maintain his hold on the title of king.

But something made him hesitate. The acceptance of his eventual defeat filled him again, shoving away the despair, and he couldn't kill his brother. Not now, not ever.

Sacri fell back.

Feli healed his wound.

And then Sacri attacked. And Feli repulsed his blade. And the battle between the two continued.

No one could win. This would end, but Riko would pay. They all would pay.

But Sacri still continued to fight his brother.