A low mist descended on the palace from gray, rain-laden clouds that crossed the horizon from the south in an endless dark mass, the harbinger of deluge.

  The skies mercifully had not yet released their cargo, but the air was cold and damp with anticipation at its arrival.

  Ygrain sat in the gardens, watching the mist pass attractively by through the vines and planters.

  The once foreign banana trees and ample bushels of blue Aparajita flowers had become like old friends now, some five months into her time here.

  There were small monkeys that occasionally climbed the outer wall and found their way into the gardens, feasting on bananas from the treetops and eyeing her with such intense curiosity. She liked the funny little things.

  She hadn’t seen the prince all day, and she groaned at the thought.

  Not that I care, she quickly reassured herself.

  However, she had to admit that like the garden and the little monkeys she had grown used to having the little nuisance around.

  For the conversation if nothing else.

  The faintest specks of rainfall splashed the stone tiles of the path and Ygrain cursed. Begrudgingly, she rose from the comfortable bench.

  She was alone in the garden save for a single maid, a young woman who between casting nervous glances her way was pruning flower stems and tree branches with a collection of well-used shears.

  The hour had grown late, and the day, already obscured by the cloud cover, was settling into a red and orange sunset.

  Lifting a small basket of flower petals and fallen fruit, Ygrain followed the path back down to her room.

  Ygrain heard a sound like metal cracking hard against stone somewhere close by and froze.

  She turned her head to see if the young maid had heard it too, and the girl’s nervous eyes were cast wildly about the rapidly darkening gardens as the rain began to pour more heavily.

  The woman called out to the darkness in Guhran, and there was silence. And again she called out, and again there was no reply from the storm.

  The maid opened her mouth to call out again, now standing with her shears held out in her hands like a weapon, but before the words could escape her lips they were cut off by a sharp cry.

  The young maid spun round to reveal a bodkin arrow buried in her ribs.

  Ygrain’s eyes whipped about for the source, and moving through the deepening shadows of the mists she saw 3, perhaps 4 shapes approaching slowly from the garden's edge.

  Ygrain turned to run, but the maid’s gagged breaths as she fell to the floor caught her in her stride.

  She stopped and after hesitating for a few moments ran back to the woman's side, clutching at her red-stained hand tightly.

  The woman's eyes were wide and bloodshot. Her breathing frantic, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.

  Ygrain tried to lift the woman to her feet, to carry her along with an arm lashed over one shoulder, but the woman screamed in pain and thrashed against it every time she tried.

  Desperate and not knowing what else to do, Ygrain set the woman back down as gently as she could.

  The blood pooled underneath her in a widening circle, and Ygrain knew the woman wouldn’t survive long.

  Glancing behind she could see the killers had cleared near half the distance, and while she didn’t think they could see her yet through the fog cloud, especially clumped together with the form of the maid, she couldn't be sure.

  Wordless pleading reflected in the maid’s eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” Ygrain rose and ran as quickly as her long legs could manage.

  She heard as the men reached the maid and any hope of a merciful end for her was dashed.

  The woman began to emit weak but agonizing screams for a few awful moments, before mercifully shattering into silence.

  Tears burned down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but Ygrain kept running, the winding garden path opening to the outer palace grounds, and safety.

  From the shade of banana trees a man in tattered robes stepped onto the path but a few feet in front of her.

  He was short, old with sun-eaten cracked skin, and a thin hook-like nose.

  The robe he wore was gray, and shabby, having many holes where it had been restitched. Across the fabric were interlocking stitchwork depictions of constellations, nearly a dozen she could see.

  Rain fell in torrents now, and the man’s gray robes seemed to almost fade into the haze.

  He smiled mirthlessly, like a crocodile discovering lunch.

  Ygrain’s eyes shot wide and she tried to change direction, to turn back.

  The smiling man raised a long twisted wooden branch from under his robes, quickly tracing a symbol in the earth with its tip, like many flowing lines.

  “The Roots bind you,” he commanded in Imperial, a voice like dry crackling parchment, much older and withered sounding than he appeared.

  The rune script glowed momentarily with a brilliant white light, then that light erupted forth from the sigil and shot across the path like a comet of luminous fire, striking Ygrain in the back.

  The moment it touched her the light split across her body in many twisting limbs, constricting about her legs and arms, and wrenching them frozen into place. In an instant she couldn’t move a muscle, as the crackling light snaked and oozed across her body.

  The sensation of it was like a tingling, a hum of energy that caused hairs to go on end, her skin to buzz uncomfortably, and her teeth to ache.

  Ygrain sought to flare the Fire inside her, but found even that spark lie stilled and silent under the spell’s hold.

  “I have her,” the astrologer called out,

  “She is secure.”

  From the gardens came the other three men.

  Two, she realized, were identical twins. Young dark-skinned youths barely older than she, each wearing simple black tunics with hoods pulled over their bald heads.

  They dressed remarkably similarly to one of the work staff, and they moved in an eerie synchronization. They had two sheaths at their belts on either side, which contained short curling blades perfect for concealing.

  The third intruder, who she realized was a fair-skinned woman, was missing an eye.

  Pale scars spread across her face and arms where tattoos had been burned off agonizingly and healed.

  Clan-marks, Ygrain realized with shock.

  The woman was also Eiren, or had been once.

  She had a bow strung across her back. Quiver already missing more than a few arrows.

  As the group gathered together around Ygrain, the banana trees swayed to an unfelt breeze.

  “Ha! Gods above that were lucky, thought the little bitch got away.” said the woman in Eireni, wickedly flashing Ygrain her barred teeth.

  The old man ignored her.

  “Any trouble?” the astrologer whispered in the same tongue, as the men went to work tying Ygrain with more conventional rope.

  “Not trouble, per se. Dead maid in the garden, she was calling out. And two guards on the wall, heard the grappling hook.” said the archer.

  “We cannot afford such mistakes, Kish, the captain wouldn’t like it...” the astrologer scolded, his wrinkled face darkening.

  The Eireni blanched of color, and nodded enthusiastically.

  “Regardless, it's not unsalvageable. Maybe you won’t get ground into chum for the sharks, hmm? Where is the boy?”

  “Dunno, haven’t seen him abouts.”

  “The captain wants them both Kish, money aside, he has special plans for Kaiaan’s whelp,” the old man chuckled sickly, letting out a hacking cough as he did.

  As if in answer to his question, Kairava Raich unhooked his legs and fell from the top of the banana tree, a pair of blood speckled garden shears in one hand.

  The prince landed and hooked his legs around the shoulders of the Eireni archer, Kish, and without allowing himself a moment of doubt, buried the shears to the handle in her throat.

  The archer lashed about wildly, reaching for the boy in a roar of rage that was quickly drowned out by a wave of arterial spray.

  Kairava lept, kicking off the archer's back and sending her sprawling into the twins, who jumped nimbly aside with synchronous movement.

  The Eireni called Kish tumbled to the floor in a crumpled twitching pile, shears still affixed in place.

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  Kairava winced at the sight, but steeled himself quickly. Turning his cool blue eyes onto the remainder of the intruders.

  “Found him,” the astrologer cackled, giving the archer’s still twitching body a cruel splitting kick.

  “And a finely done maneuver, the captain will be very pleased by this one, oh yes indeed. He loves breaking the spirited ones,” the old man spoke seemingly to himself as the silent twins stood on either side like an honor guard.

  The old man raised the branch suddenly, and Kairava lunged for him, sending a spinning kick flying towards the man’s skull.

  One twin flew into his path, sending up a blocking forearm that collided with the kick painfully, the second twin advanced a second later, striking out with open palms and smashing them into the prince’s exposed side.

  Breath was sent fleeing from Kairava’s lungs, and he gasped desperately for air.

  The first twin released his leg, throwing the kick backwards and sending Kairava falling pathetically to the floor, soaked in rain and struggling to breathe.

  “Yes, he’ll do nicely indeed. Tie him up, carry them both.”

  The twins secured Kairava’s bonds and lifted the two royals, bound over their shoulders. They followed the astrologer, who made his way out of the gardens and towards the Guest Wing.

  Ygrain and Kairava exchanged fearful glances.

  ...

  The group were silent as they made their way through the storming palace.

  They took the less maintained and less patrolled paths the servants often employed to get about the grounds unseen, going around the inner wall and taking care to always put something between them and the watchmen who patrolled it even in the rain.

  Ygrain’s hopes welled as she saw the guards’ lanterns glow, sure they would be seen and rescued.

  As they passed by the wall the astrologer again quickly struck his staff against the earth and the captives heard him scratch another symbol into the tiles.

  “The Veils obscure all sight,” he whispered and the symbol glowed for only a moment before a haze began to surround them, the light beyond a small bubble dimmed till the lantern’s glow atop the wall was like a distant candle flame.

  The greasy sorcerer leered into the children’s faces, his maw of rotting teeth glistening as he spoke.

  “This spell does not obscure sound, but if you speak, I shall turn each of you inside out before you have enough time to reap the rewards of any ill-fated attempt at escape. Am I understood?”

  Ygrain’s heart sank miserably and she looked to the prince. Kairava’s face was like stone, downcast and featureless.

  They both nodded silently.

  They pulled the captives along past the inner wall towards the Guest Wing. The assassins set both captives down before going to work unlocking the Onyx Compartment with a set of intricate looking metal hooks.

  After a few moments the lock clicked, and they rushed inside, pulling Kairava and Ygrain along with them.

  The intruders moved back through the room, giving it little more than a cautious glance for hidden dangers.

  The room was nearly identical to Ygrain’s save any signs of actual habitation, and they strode down to the far end of the chamber past bedrooms, a dining area, and a comfortable sitting room next to the chambermaids’ door.

  They discovered the backroom, little more than a storage chamber. Lightly pooling with rain that trickled in from the unexpectedly open doorway.

  The assassins came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the chambermaid's door.

  In their path was Slyke, standing perfectly still in the open doorway.

  The door itself rested in pieces about his feet. Rain pelted him from above, though he hardly seemed to notice, and his armor-plated head was cocked to the side like some curious pup.

  His red eyes were wide in his helm, staring unblinkingly at the gang of killers and their captives.

  Both assassins pulled sharply back, drawing the prince and princess close, and pressing the stinging tips of their daggers into the small of their backs.

  Ygrain and Kairava both hissed in pain.

  “He hasn’t got any weapon, clear the door, now...” growled the astrologer.

  The two assassins hurled both children back behind them as they launched themselves forwards with all the speed and power of a pair of coiled serpents.

  The assassins leapt through the air like acrobats and landed rolling to a halt at either side of Slyke.

  They each jabbed a long needle-like knife deeply between slim seams in Slyke’s armor at the neck and at the ribs where the plates meet.

  The two men buried the blades nearly to the hilt and spun back, drawing two identical replacement knives from their belts as they did.

  Slyke made no noise but shuddered as the knives carved through his tissues, coming to a halt against bone too dense to penetrate.

  He remained perfectly still until slowly he began to let out a hissing sound like the slow release of air from a deflating balloon.

  The assassins looked nervously amongst themselves, but did not move.

  Kairava’s eyes shot wide and he too began to shudder.

  Squirming on the floor he desperately tried to shake the gag free of his mouth. The astrologer cast a grave look his way, doing little else.

  Finally, Kairava managed to spit the gag free.

  “I-I c-command you to stop!” he said with such grave urgency that even his kidnappers glanced his way uncertainly.

  “I don’t think our would-be kidnappers are going to politely concede!” Ygrain hissed harshly, the binding white light having long since faded from her between her teeth.

  “I wasn’t talking to them,” Kairava whimpered, not seeming to notice her hostility.

  His eyes were heavy with tears.

  As the hissing grew louder, the shadows seemed to grow and deepen around Slyke. The dark about Slyke’s feet stretched, his shadow growing in length, and twisting in shape.

  Things seemed to move at the edges of the darkness.

  “Rava...what’s happening,” said Ygrain, growing increasingly afraid.

  “...He’s laughing...” said Rava through sobs.

  The prince threw his bound hands out, clutching Ygrain’s tightly.

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  Kairava pulled her quickly close, burying her head into the folds of his tunic and holding her tight.

  She called out and struggled for a moment before she looked up and saw Kairava, his own eyes held tightly closed, shivering.

  “Don’t see this part. No one should see this part.” he begged.

  Ygrain said nothing but squeezed his hand tightly back.

  Still hissing, Slyke’s left hand flew to the hilt of the dagger blade, sunk nearly a foot through his neck and with a single fluid jerk hurled the blade free, launching it into a nearby wall.

  The right hand pulled the blade impaling him through the ribs sidewise with a squelch, and the knife came clattering harmlessly to the floor.

  Both weapons were slick with a black fluid like ink that caught no light.

  The assassins remained frozen to the spot, fear obvious in their wary, darting eyes.

  Slyke with some difficulty pulled the black iron gauntlet of his left hand free, his curled fist painfully squeezed into the armor.

  The black knight’s hands ended in long curving talons, like some kind of nightmarish bird of prey.

  His fist and forearm were covered in incredibly thick, shaggy black fur, not unlike a bears.

  It was flecked with old brown and dark red blood that masked any skin beneath.

  The astrologer let out a cry of abject terror as the creature pulled the other gauntlet free and took a slow, anticipatory step forward.

  Its eyes were locked on the mage.

  Kairava cupped Ygrain’s ears as best he could, struggling to hold his hands steady as both their bodies shook as if knocked about by an intense wind.

  Kairava heard floorboards shattering as several hundred pounds of plate metal and inhuman muscle came exploding through the air above him.

  Three pairs of boots fled, running back the way they'd come out the front door.

  Slyke was right behind them.

  “The Thunderbolt smite you!” the astrologer cried in fury.

  There was a brief crackling to the air, and the royals felt the hairs on their arms stand on end as a screaming bolt of yellow lightning split the silence.

  So bright they could see it through the skin of closed lids. Booming and echoing in the air as it struck its target.

  Something roared in answer, crueler and more hateful than any living beast Ygrain had ever heard.

  For only a moment there was silence.

  Then a cry of terror and surprise, the astrologer’s dry voice gone shrill with fear.

  Metal clanged and sparked off bone claws, and always Slyke’s hissing laughter lay under it all.

  “I beg of you, please. Spare me!” One of the twins cried.

  There were sounds of struggle and tearing cloth and slicing meat, and men screamed as Slyke laughed and laughed and laughed.

  Ygrain flinched as she felt a warm spray splash her cheek.

  The sound of one man collapsing to the floor with a thud echoed through the chamber, and then another, thud.

  Silence.

  The steady trickling of blood filled the empty room.

  One twin must have been still alive not far from where the royal heirs cowered, for they heard him cooing in a kind of pain that would render most mercifully unconscious.

  Slyke knew nothing of mercy.

  He dragged the astrologer back into the room with the sounds of heavy thumping footfalls.

  He threw the man in a pile a short ways from the heirs, the mage’s shallow breaths still audible as Slyke began at his work.

  He grabbed the remaining assassin by the leg and dragged him over to join his companion side by side.

  The sounds and smells, which lasted for what seemed like hours, were that of twisting flesh and breaking bones.

  The squealing, pleading, snot-covered cries of men in more pain than they had imagined possible, becoming quieter with time.

  It giggled to itself as it worked. Paying Ygrain and Rava no heed as it joyfully cut, snapped, bit, beat.

  Not murder, not torture…play.

  It played with them, like insects caught in a jar.

  Images danced in Kairava’s head, nightmares threatening to escape to the waking world flitted madly about his skull, around and around.

  A night like this. Blood and shadow.

  His mothers cries.

  Ygrain’s shuddering breath against him drew Kairava out of it.

  He struggled against the bonds and slipped free of the knot, skinning his hands raw as did.

  Kairava tore the ropes free of his legs, and tightly wrapped his arms around Ygrain’s bulk, he pulled them both to their feet and ran straight through the open doorway before she could so much as glance about.

  Kairava’s eyes flashed to the corner of the room, just before they made it out.

  He saw the room cast in unnatural shadow, darkness that did not fear the light.

  It made him nauseous to look at.

  Corpses of men hung about the darkened chamber like decorations. Limbs and bones hanging, swaying, like wind-chimes.

  And in the middle of it all, the cackling laughter of the monster.

  Bones snapped, skin was cut and stitched.

  It’s helmet rested at its feet.

  Red orbs of purest malice briefly spared the boy a knowing sidelong look as it grinned through long bloodred fangs.

  It turned and continued with renewed gusto at its grim work, as if it hadn’t seen him.

  The door swung shut behind him with hardly a sound.

  ...

  Their feet fell gratefully onto the damp cobblestone.

  Panting heavily, Ygrain’s unsteady fingers lightly fumbled at Rava’s tunic.

  Down the path six lancers in blue plate ran at their fastest gallop, swords drawn and swaying at their side.

  The twin battlemasters led them, dressed in their usual combat attire, expressions as dour as ever.

  Gadhar followed shortly behind the party of knights, heaving red in the face as he tried to keep pace, sweat falling from him like rain.

  Their captain hailed as they approached, raising his arm in greeting with head bowed. Gadhar came to a stop a few paces behind and bent over, gasping to catch his breath.

  “My Prince, there was word of screaming, sounds of violence from the Guest Wing. We feared the worst. Are you and the princess alright?” said the twin to the prince’s left.

  Kairava nodded.

  “There are intruders in the palace, they-”

  He stared at the cracks in the tiles as the memories played themselves out.

  “-they killed, um I’m sorry. I don’t know her name. A maid in the gardens, she’ll need seeing to immediately,”

  “Of course my prince, we’ll sweep the grounds at once. Do you have any idea where the intruders may have gone?” the twin to the right asked dutifully.

  Queasily, the prince pointed to the open shattered doorway.

  One of the unhelmed lancers began to enter impatiently.

  Kairava whipped out to grip the man’s arm firmly.

  “Sir Slyke has it well in hand. Have the servants seal off the Guest Wing for the time being and assemble Balachandra and the other ordained dragon priests in the palace, we’ll hold funerary rites in three hours.” the prince spoke in level, sure tones.

  The twin captains raised their heads in surprise.

  “Am I understood, captains?”

  Their eyes narrowed into serpentine slits.

  “Of course, prince-regent.” They said in unison, rising to their feet.

  A quiet hand gesture later and the lancers fell in ranks behind the twins, heading out to survey the damage.

  Ygrain hadn’t been holding Kairava any longer, but stood still and silent a breath away. As they watched the knights go, her eyes continued to dart back to the yawning void.

  The yawning doorway which seemed to swallow the shadows and defile the light.

  Kairava reached out, tapping her on the wrist.

  “Come with me,” he urged and began to walk speedily down the path towards a distant stone arch.

  And, despite her exhaustion, and terror, follow she did.

  But before she could get more than a few paces a quiet, “Hey,” stopped her in her tracks.

  She turned to find Gadhar, still partially red in the face leaning against a low stone wall lining the path.

  “What do you want, brute?” She hissed venomously.

  “I don’t want nothing from you, princess.” He growled.

  “Likewise,” she said, whipping about on her heels to leave.

  “Wait! I-I just want to know, is he...is the prince alright?”

  “He’s fine.” She answered impatiently.

  “Unhurt?”

  “Some bruising, maybe,”

  “That's good...umm, don’t tell him I asked?” He shifted about on his feet uncomfortably.

  “Why not?”

  “Just- just don’t alright? It would make things harder for everyone.” he pleaded.

  Ygrain huffed, annoyed, turning to leave the boy unanswered.

  Then she stopped.

  “Fine. But I’m not doing it for you.” She said over her shoulder.

  Gadhar was silent.

  She followed quickly after the vanishing prince without another word.