Feli spent hours trying to figure out how he should proceed with dealing with his brother. For surely, Sacri's abandonment of the old ways for the new, dark art was endangering the peace their parents had so carefully constructed and upheld for close to a millennium.

Sacri was supposed to be another symbol of the new peace and the alliance between the Lunar and the Solar. With his mixed blood, he represented the two peoples that he would eventually rule over. And now...he was flaunting his preference for the new black magic over the old established ways of the Elves. His throwing away of tradition was not beneficial to their society's new structure.

What Sacri was doing would drive a rift between the two castes. Especially with his eyes reminiscent of the Solar Elves' chief deity, the Golden Elf. Although he was not worshipped anymore, the gold of Sacri's Streaks and irises belonged to him. That already placed him higher within one group over the other. But that alone would most likely not have injured the peace.

But along with his black magic? It was enough.

Feli rose, rubbing right above his eyes with the heel of his hand. He left the stately library he had been thinking in and decided to take a stroll down to the kitchens, to find something with which to reenergize himself.

The footsteps caught his attention.

Running, light footsteps, but the energy coiled around their owners was tense and nervous. Anger filled the air, and Feli flew in the direction of the disturbance, suddenly worried.

The footsteps led to the throne room.

Two bodies lay on the floor, bruised and battered. Feli's eyes widened as he identified them as Díer and Lonus. His parents. His strong, heroic parents. Parents he would never now be able to apologize to, to show that he did indeed respect them for their actions and for their caution in dealing with his brother.

Speaking of his brother....

Sacri slid into the room, his eyes raking the space. Feli also turned, looking for where the footsteps had gone. A squadron of guards was heading across the throne room in the direction of Cyren Neptu, who was already dueling with one of the intruders, one dressed in black with a rim of obsidian around his eyes.

A Black Elf.

And he hadn't come alone.

Sacri's eyes alighted on the duel the same time Feli's did. As one, the two brothers raced across the throne room towards the assassins, catching up with the guards. Sacri drew his cross-hilted sword and Feli drew his scimitar and together, they lit into the ones stained with the monarchs' blood.

But as Feli used light magic to complement him as he massacred the assassins, he glimpsed his brother wielding black magic. One assassin's chest exploded outwards, blood flying everywhere as Sacri's Streaks mangled his heart. The dark golden fire that Feli witnessed flying through the air at his brother's disposal was often passed by the silvery light Feli himself controlled as the two brothers slaughtered the ones responsible for the murder of their parents, the guards falling back as they felt the silent roar of the brothers' rage.

At last, the final assassin but one fell to the ground, frozen by Feli's light magic and then stabbed in the throat by Sacri. The brothers both turned to where Cyren was standing, sword touching the chest of his opponent as the Black Elf knelt before the victor.

Tendrils of fire sparked from Cyren's hands, rippling down the sword blade and coming dangerously close to setting the assassin afire. The Black Elf lifted his chin up and his eyes met those of Sacri and Feli, coming to stand on either side of Cyren.

"Oliven," Sacri growled. "What is the meaning of this?"

Feli started, whirling towards his brother. "You know this being?"

"He is a Black Elf," Sacri responded readily, glancing at Feli. "An anarchist. I do not tolerate him among our numbers."

"The king and queen are reverenced as heroes," Oliven spat. "But what have they ever done for those of less fortune? Nothing! Nothing! They sit on their elegant thrones and avert their eyes from the slow, torturous deaths of starvation that their subjects topple over from every day!"

"Bring him to the dungeons," Feli ordered, cutting the Black Elf's rant off. "We will interrogate him and punish whoever else is a part of this."

"I have a better idea," Sacri hissed. Stepping forward, he thrust his blade into Oliven's neck before Feli could stop him. The assassin stiffened and gasped as scarlet blood began to flow out around the sword.

Leaving the blade in the Black Elf's neck, Sacri lifted his other hand and curled his fingers slightly inward. The blood began to shoot from Oliven's neck in a controlled geyser, spurting right into Sacri's hand.

"I...will...know...everything," Sacri intoned, his murderous glare pinned on Oliven as Cyren and Feli involuntarily stepped back, staring at the elder prince. "Tell...me...everything!"

The blood coalesced in Sacri's hand, all somehow fitting within the span of his fingers as the blood continued to drain out of the assassin. Oliven convulsed as finally, the last of his lifeblood left him and his body sagged backward, still kneeling.

Sacri released the blood and it exploded outward, plastering itself only over the body of the assassin. The body toppled over as it was stained dark red, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

It was only then that Feli noticed the ebony rim glittering around his brother's gold irises. He felt rage thundering up his throat, swallowing quickly to keep it from exploding from him.

They're dead. I cannot berate Sacri while their bodies still lie in such blatant disrespect.

Sacri wasn't even aware Feli had noticed the change to his eyes. He still stood, one hand grasping his sword and the other curled inward, staring distantly at the assassin's corpse.

"We need to care for the monarchs," Cyren said softly. He gave Feli a sympathetic glance before stepping towards Sacri, lightly touching his shoulder. "Prince Sacri?"

Sacri started, spinning around towards the half-Elf. Drawing his blade back, the prince blinked several times at Cyren before seeming to realize who it was. "Neptu, have their bodies cleaned and dressed for state. Do not let them stay here long." There was a pause before he added, quietly, "Please."

Cyren bowed his head and turned to the guards, calling instructions out to them. Turning, Feli knelt down beside the body of his mother, placing his fingers on her eyelids. "Rest with the ancients," he whispered. "Rest with the eternal light...."