Fox shuffled backwards, almost not recognising the man stumbling into the throne room. Damon was but a shade of the cocky Earth Magician who had shaken up the last Mage Council meeting. His long grey hair hung sloppily over his bloodstained face, his eyes cast to the ground. The raggedy cloak he was wearing was more soil brown than the original grey and resembled patches of old blankets sewn together. Chains of air twirled around his arms, ankles, and neck.

Grandmaster Hawk and Prince Storm were trailing not far behind him. Silently and sparing no one a glance, she moved the Queen's left. Storm brought the prisoner to the King's feet, after which he moved to the right, his gaze locked onto Damon, who was sitting on his knees, muttering to himself in a low voice.

A smell worse than Felix's pool of vomit wafted from the man. Fox held his breath for as long as he could. Not even the bubbling pits of the Seven Hells could smell this bad.

King Ariel was leaning on his longsword, staring down, his cold blue eyes resembling fire instead of ice. "Can't hear you, Greenlander. Did my guards finally knock all snappy remarks out of you? No excuses or accusations this time?"

Damon spoke up, "... not a sin of Greed, forgive me, oh, Lord of Patience, I only listened to your divine sisters..."

"Forgiveness—where you're going there shall be no forgiveness." The King's voice was laced with scorn. "I took you into my country, gave you the opportunity to serve in the Mage's Council, and this is how you thank me? Conspiring against me, planting the poisonous leaves that killed my daughter and left my son at the brink of death." He grabbed Damon's face and forced to look to the left. "Look at him—look at what you did to my son! All for a few silverlings and half a hard-baked bread."

For less than a heartbeat, Damon glanced at Felix, the boy freezing on the throne, growing a shade so pale he was almost whiter than snow. The man's eyes shifted back to the red carpet."Weigh my virtues and sins, and find the balance, oh dear Lords and Ladies of the skies..."

Pommel first, King Ariel slammed his sword into Damon's head. Before the scrawny man hit the ground, Storm clicked his fingers and just like that the Earth Magician snapped back onto his knees.

He continued his prayer as though nothing had happened. "I accept whatever punishment You deem fit. I..."

"That's right." The King turned his sword around, pointing it at Damon's throat. "I had a few nights' sleep to ponder over your punishment. Though you served others and provided me with useful information, it was still you who killed my Panthera. You shall die, right here and right now, at the hands of a fellow countryman so you'll know what it feels like to be betrayed."

Not fully understanding, Fox darted a look over his shoulder. No one else had entered the throne room. His company still Katla, Badger, Fawn, Leo, Phoenix, and Doe. Bear was the only guard. There were no other Greenlanders but Damon. But him, and he was a Knight of Silvermark now. Was he still a Greenlander too?

"Lord Fox Brandonson, step forward." King Ariel gesticulated, then as Fox reluctantly obeyed, he pushed the man's chin up, leaving a large cut across his throat that spewed blood onto his cloak and chest. "Yes, you heard that right, Greenlander. If you see your former prince rotting along with you in the Seven Hells, feel free to spread the news."

When Damon didn't halt his prayer, King Ariel lowered his sword, shifting his attention to Fox. "Young Lord, since today marks your birthday and your first execution, the choice on how to end this kinslayer's life is yours. Your sword, my sword, or..." the King searched for Hawk, Katla, then Storm. "... magic of any kind."

Fox puffed his cheeks in thought. His fox sword was too new to get dirty already, the King's sword so large and heavy. "I'll use magic," he said after a while.

"Are you sure?" King Ariel twisted the longsword, showing off the lions prancing in union on each side of the blade. "Not everyone gets this opportunity."

Fox let out a groan. The sneaky voice of the God of Greed whispered he would never get to wield a finer blade than that of the King, but Temperance was quick to warn him about the last time he had held a long sword. He had swung it so enthusiastically he had crashed into the rack in Father's... the blacksmith's workshop and had only been saved because none of the weapons had been honed. If he fell now, the consequences would be bigger than a couple of bruises and a blacksmith infested by the God of Wrath.

"What will it be?" the King asked. "I don't care how you rid my kingdom of this vermin as long as you do it quickly."

"I'll stick to magic," Fox said with a nod. "I need more lessons from Leo before I can properly swing a longsword, Your Majesty."

"As you please, Lord Fox. Make him suffer." King Ariel sat down onto his throne. He looked at Storm. "Prepare the prisoner."

As Storm spun his hand with rapid turns, a ghost of misty air appeared in the midst of the constant breeze that billowed through the hall. Damon reeled backwards, the ghost yanking the man's head to the ceiling and forcing his arms wide. The shabby cloak fell into folds onto the floor, leaving the Earth Magician bare-chested and covered in blood that ran down his throat in squirts.

Prowling like a predator about to pounce on his already weakened prey, Fox approached him. Hundreds of rats he had reduced to ashes, striking down the accidental cat with them. His fire had burnt Mallard's heart from within. This was no different. Damon had killed the most beautiful Princess he had ever seen; he had to pay.

A fern green flame erupted from his open hand, ready to fly and kill. Then Doe shuffled her feet, shying away behind Phoenix. Fawn too was holding hands with Badger, her eyes more closed than open.

Fox's flame sputtered, crackled, then died. A sudden urge to run hit him. He fought it off; too many gazes were lingering on him, his oath fresh in their memories. No demand too absurd.

"Is something the matter, Lord Fox?" King Ariel asked.

"Erm... no," he replied. Though he half wished Damon would do more besides rocking back and forth and praying. It would be easier to kill if he looked like a murderer instead of a frightened man.

Panthera is dead because of him, Felix a cripple. Keeping the thought swarming in his mind, he tried conjuring another green flame, but only got a few lousy sparks and bouts of smoke.

Where there was hate only grew desperation. Why wasn't this working? He wanted this over with. If it weren't for Damon, he would be eating cake in The Antler, and showing his fox sword to every man and woman who walked in.

He couldn't bear looking at him anymore, listening to those pathetic prayers, as if the Gods would ever forgive a man like him.

His fox pendant grew hot against his chest, the heat building up the magic within him.

Wishing Damon would disappear from his life forever, he swung his arm as though he was carrying a sword. A ball of fiery bouncing air, born with the power of sheer frustration, flared up in his hand.

As it slammed into the man's chest, he slid across the throne room, the chains of air around him dissolving. With a bang and a gut-piercing cry, he smacked into burning jaws of the southern lion-shaped fireplace.

Without hesitating, the hungry flames attacked Damon from every side, devouring him like a pack of lionesses eager to please their King. The Earth Magician burnt, crying for a life that was soon to end, in cinders and embers.

There came an explosion, like a nearby thunderstorm blasting in his ear. It rocked the floor, a bright white flame exploding in the hearth, the lion's hollow eyes flickering with intense light.

As the flames lowered, pitch-black smoke draped the fireplace like a veil of death.

Where moments ago Damon kneeled and prayed, all that was left of Panthera's murderer was the old dirty cloak.

Fox turned to his King and bowed, his heart hammering wildly through his every vein. He was cramping up where he stood, unable to smile. 

What had he done?

'Unconventional but effective' were the words that rolled off the King's tongue. It was also the description Storm, Leo, and Phoe used to repeat the tale to anyone who walked into The Antler looking for a free drink and a piece of the red, flame-shaped cake.

People were dancing on the tunes of Storm's enchanted flute floating around the thick pillars that supported the ceiling beams of the tavern. Mead and ale were flowing freely. While the feast was fit for a Knight of Silvermark, Fox sat huddled into the armchair by the fireplace. He had eaten half a plate of cake, his cup of sweet mead heating up. When Fawn had asked him whether he was trying to make them fly, he had snapped so loudly, she had started bawling.

"Is the mead going to your head, lad?" Falcon said with a grin as he stole the second chair by the fireplace from a blond-haired stranger who had just stood up to visit the outhouse.

"No, there's not enough room up there," Fox muttered.

"Thinking of Damon?" Falcon asked, then as Fox nodded, he added. "You should be glad, lad. Another vile Greenlander gone. Finally some justice in this world."

"I know, but I keep hearing his prayer, seeing his wrinkled, starving face in the flames. When I sniff the air, all I can smell is burning flesh, the explosion still ringing in my ears."

"Forget him. Don't let that scum get to you. You made him burn, and now he shall burn forever."

Though Falcon was right, his stomach was filled with regret, his head with worries. He was both a Knight and a Prince. Warrior and Magician. Fox and Henry. Silvermarker and Greenlander. And now an assassin too.

With the excuse that the mead made him feel funny, he asked Katla to take him home. He told Doe he'd come back later to eat more cake, when he felt better.

He was the first to leave his own birthday feast. The sun hadn't even set yet.

"How do you do it?" He asked as Katla sat down on his bed, handing him a steaming cup of warm milk. "Killing people, then never thinking about them again?"

"Who says I don't think about them?" Katla arched a brow. "Their last words, their shock-filled or begging faces flashing before my eyes keep me from doing much worse things to the people I love during wintertime."

Fox took a quick sip, allowing the honey to warm up his belly, then placed the cup on his nightstand. "But what then in spring, summer, and autumn? Even a Silvermark year has at least six or seven more moons that aren't winter."

"Sometimes they cross my mind. Then I remind myself why they needed to die."

"I killed Damon because he killed Panthera, and also because I saw how scared Felix was of him." Fox paused, evaluating whether he felt different now. "It doesn't work, Katla. I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep again."

"That's because you and the God of Patience have never been friends," Katla said, his head shaking. He shuffled on the bed, occupying the spot by Fox's feet. "I kill believing I turn the world into a better place. That's where I and Damon were different—he chose to murder out of Greed and Pride."

"And Laneby?" Fox asked. His mother had not been a bad person.

Katla rubbed his beard. "A victim in my fight for a better world."

"I don't understand."

"Well... you could say she died so her boy could have a better life as a magician. One day she'll look down on you from the heavens and see her boy becoming a hero, a King."

"King of The Greenlands." Fox's voice was but a whisper.

"And she'll tell herself, 'My Henry is doing a better job than that despicable, ugly Half-Ear Tom and his spoiled nephew.' She'll be proud of you."

"I don't know." Fox shrugged. "Magic is allowed in Silvermark, and Damon still decided to poison Felix and Panthera."

"He too is a victim," Katla explained. "Damon's mind got corrupted because he had to flee to a country that was not his own, a country in poverty. He was starving, out of work, out of options. It takes a special kind of desperation for a man to consider killing royalty to feed his family. With you as King, no Greenlander magician would ever have to flee again. People like Damon would be able to live in the south in peace."

"But I thought King Ariel wanted to claim The Greenlands for himself. I would just be a regent. I swore my loyalty to him today."

"Yes, but you'll be the one sitting on the throne, making the decisions. Moondale and Sundale are leagues away. Whether your official title is Regent or King—it doesn't matter. You'll be able to set southern magicians free."

"But what about Seb?" Fox asked. His half-brother was still his friend, wasn't he?

"A victim of war, one life to save thousands."

Fox slithered deeper under his blanket and turned to his side, away from his master. "I don't know. I hesitated today, and Damon wasn't even my friend."

"You wouldn't have to do it now," Katla said. "You're only eleven—too young to sit on the obsidian throne. And you will need to learn to rule."

Fox cocked his head up from his pillow. "Will you teach me?"

"No, Ariel wants to teach you—you and Felix together—as he conducts his business."

"I don't have time for that, Katla. I have Air Magic lessons from Storm, sword fighting lessons from Leo, Mage Council meetings, and you also still have to teach me more Fire Magic."

"You'll soon have a lot of time."

"How?" Fox asked. His master had his full attention now.

"Oh, son." Katla sighed. "I was going to wait until morning, but I can't anymore, can I now?" He ran his hand over his beard.

"What is it?" Fox pouted. He pounded his fists on the blanket. "You have to tell me!"

"Ariel has requested your presence at court."

"Eh?"

"He wants you to stay at Moonstone Castle."

 "I can't. I'm living with you."

"I'm sorry, son." Katla shook his head, his frown deepening. He looked away, but not quick enough to hide the sadness curling on his lips. "I'm leaving Moondale, tomorrow around noon. I don't know when I'll be back."