"You know I have to," Dheneb answered patiently. They were speaking in Witch language, which meant Florian couldn't understand. Dheneb was about to teleport away to try and destroy more Wind Spires. "I promise that I'll only do one or two, and come right back." He kissed Rastaban's frowning mouth, not embarrassed that Florian was watching.

"Something awful always happens when you say that," muttered Rastaban.

Dheneb rolled his bright eyes, and gave Florian and lopsided grin, squeezing his skinny arm. Florian hugged the other man, revelling in the warmth of his body. Loving the familiarity of him from when they'd been connected in their respective prisons. "You can act like a baby when I get back." He teleported away.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Florian assured, watching as Rastaban sat down, steepling his hands in front of his mouth, staring off into space. He also sat down, feeling tired. There had been a lot of excitement in such a short amount of time, and he still didn't have that much energy. "He said he would find you. I guess he gets whatever he wants."

"No, he doesn't." Rastaban sighed wearily and leaned back in his chair. "This is not the life he wants. He wants to fade into obscurity. He wants the dullness of everyday life."

"And, he wants to be with you."

"We don't have a great track record so far in that field, either."

"Things aren't going well?" Florian asked, surprised. The look of adoration in their eyes was kind of hard to miss.

"No, no. That way, things are going great. But, we've been apart more than we've been together," Rastaban muttered bitterly. "I hate having this thought in the back of my head all the time, that every time I touch him or kiss him, or talk to him, it's going to be the last time." He gave a trademark Rastaban grin. "But, I'm sure you don't want to hear about that. I could go on about Dheneb for hours. What about you?" He asked seriously. "You look so thin…"

"Believe me, I look much better than I did. I'll be fattened back up in no time. I'm looking forward to not having to wear four sweaters at a time." He smiled, but it was wilted around the edges. "I'm more worried about Bella than I am about me."

"Because of the baby?"

Florian nodded sadly. "She's keeping it, and I know she wants to, but she gets this… deadness in her eyes. Cygnus is in the newspapers all the time, and he comes here to direct the troops sometimes. Every time she hears his name or sees his picture…" He trailed off. "But, worse is Rigel. Bella misses her. I miss her, and I've never even met her."

"Are you two…?"

"I don't know what we are," interrupted Florian. "We care about each other, and we know we care about each other, but the rape is too fresh for her to forget, and I'm definitely not going to push her. And, right now I don't feel very attractive. My body is someone else's. Whenever I look at my reflection, I don't know this person."

"I know the feeling," Rastaban said with meaning.

"How? How did it… happen?" Florian asked delicately. It was the subject he was most curious about, even more than what was beyond the Libra Pass.

"I dunno," was the only answer Rastaban had. "It just happened. Maybe it was a reaction to stress or something."

"How do you feel about it?"

Rastaban cocked his head, looking at his old friend. He'd gotten used to the way people in Pleiades treated Witches, so he'd sort of forgotten that people in Durai definitely didn't share that reverence. It was hard to get out from a whole lifetime of teachings about what Witches were. It almost made Rastaban feel a little more sympathy for Wezn's situation. Almost. "Like I make sense. It finally gives me an answer about my depression."

"Maybe that's why you were so attracted to Dheneb in the first place."

"Doubtful." He gave a sly grin, his dead eyes strangely twinkling with mischievous life. "I definitely wasn't thinking about him being a Witch when I first saw him. I was more concerned with picturing him naked, sweaty and on all fours."

Florian flushed a little. He was used to Rastaban's sexual frankness, but he had a sense of embarrassment where Dheneb was concerned. Being so connected with him while imprisoned felt very intimate. "If Moroth could see you now…"

"He'd probably say I should have seen becoming a Witch a mile away."

"You say 'Witch'? Don't you find it… offensive?"

"No. Durai's the only place that it is. Natural mage is just a made-up term that Deirdre coined."

"You know, I worried that I wouldn't see you again, because you would have killed yourself."

"I almost did. I'm lucky Orchid was there to be my warden, I guess. It hasn't been nearly as bad since… I don't know what to call it. My transformation? That sounds so pretentious. It's especially been better since I got the core put in."

"The what?"

"The lunar core. It cures the lunar sickness. It's a metal implant that fuses to your spine. You can see one when Dheneb puts one in Salius."

"A cure? Is that something else that Deirdre's been keeping secret?" Florian asked hatefully. "Wait… you said it's in your back? Deirdre put one in Dheneb, right? I saw her do it from a crack in the wall in my cell. The way he was screaming, I don't think I'd want to see him do that to someone else."

"He'd be unconscious. I was." There was a sudden tightness in Rastaban's voice.

Florian gave a half-smile, crossing his arms across himself when he felt a chill. "You really do love him, huh?"

Rastaban's mouth spread out in his winning, charming smile. "Yeah," he answered quietly.

"Well, he's definitely the best choice for partner you've made so far. At least better than Bartholomew Ustwiss." He started laughing.

"Oh gods, I'd forgotten about him. Why did you have to bring him up?" Rastaban scoffed, starting to laugh too. "You look good, but don't feel bad if people don't notice, since you're with me," he mimicked. "His great beauty was only matched by his great ego."

"And, the fact that he was as dumb as a box of hair," Florian added.

"Sleeping with that guy definitely is not one of my proudest moments. Though, I guess I can forgive myself for being kinda shallow once in a while."

"Try all the time."

"What are you laughing about?"

The both looked up to see Bella hovering in the doorway of the balcony, cocking her head in interest. She was chubbier than Rastaban remembered, but looked pretty healthy, especially compared to Florian.

"Oh, just this guy that Rastaban used to go with. Is anything wrong?" Florian asked, smile wilting.

"No, no. Orchid's having a private mourning for Meraphar with her family, and I didn't think I should be there. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Only badmouthing some moron I slept with a lifetime ago. How's the mom-to-be?"

"Dheneb must have told you, huh?" She asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I can feel it," Rastaban said. It was a strange feeling. The baby wasn't quite a baby yet, but he could sense something foreign growing in her, feel the cells dividing.

She had to look away from his dead eyes. His gaze was just too intense, like he was staring right into her. "Where's Dheneb?"

"Destroying Wind Spires."

"Will he be okay? We heard about what happened to his mother at Cape Baquille."

"I guess I have to trust that he will be."

Suddenly, Rastaban felt a tingle in his palm, and then Dheneb was before them. First a pillar of flame, and then just himself. There was a trickle of blood coming from his nose, smeared across his cheek and chin.

"I'm okay," Dheneb said as Rastaban rose to his feet. "I'm okay," he assured again. "Really." He went over and put his hands on the other man's shoulders, forcing him to sit back down. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his face.

Rastaban touched Dheneb's stomach, the itch from the burn vanishing. Ever since Dheneb came back to him, he sometimes got the urge just to touch him, to feel the warm realness of him, to make sure he was actually there.

"Did you run into soldiers?" Florian asked.

"No. Deirdre upped her defences around the Spires," Dheneb answered, voice muffled by the handkerchief. "A lot more telepathy now."

"Did you get to destroy any?" Rastaban asked, both angry and desperately concerned. He hated how Dheneb was constantly putting his life on the line. He wanted to shake him and shout that he wasn't alone on this.

"Two. The one on South Avale Island, and the one Northeast of Tarphalla."

"That didn't take very long," Florian murmured in surprise.

"I'm not surprised," Bella answered, rubbing her stomach as she felt a swell of nausea. "You've grown a lot in power. I can see it."

"That only leaves four. The one south of Kashihana, the DeLoor Plains, the coast south of Kirsh, and the one between Timmerberg and the Temple of Xarastar."

"And, the one in the Palace," Rastaban pointed out.

"Which I can't destroy until I kill her. I can't teleport in there because of her wards, and she's going to be guarding that last one with her life."

"Or anything else she could find," Rastaban muttered under his breath, but not quiet enough to prevent them from hearing.

"You don't think she'd use… Rigel, do you?" Dheneb asked.

"No. As much as it disgusts me to say it, she cares about Rigel." Bella looked at Florian, who was keeping his head down. She hated how sad and awkward things were between them, and blamed herself for it. Bella had to believe that Deirdre would never hurt Rigel. If she felt any motherly feelings in her black, monstrous heart, then she wouldn't even be able to consider it.

"What now, then? She's going to keep upping the defences, and you're going to end up having a brain aneurysm."

"I'll have to show you how to destroy them. The two of us working at once will distract her powers."

"You think so?" Rastaban asked sceptically.

"What, you don't think you could?" Dheneb asked gently in Witch language.

Rastaban just shrugged dismissively. "It would be like asking a five-year old along."

"What are they saying?" Bella asked Florian in a hushed tone, listening to the strangely musical sounding language they were speaking, and she could never hope to decipher.

"Dunno."

"Sorry," Dheneb apologized. "Sometimes we just start talking like that without even realizing it."

"It's kind of romantic," Bella said.

"Rude too," was Florian's reply.

"Dheneb!" Piper called, running towards them, his voice echoing in the quietness of the hall. He'd been walking around the parts of the Palace that were still safe, admiring the lovely architecture, like nothing he'd ever seen in the Electra Court. He had a sketchpad tucked under one arm, and a newspaper clutched in his hand. "Oh," he murmured when he saw Florian and Bella. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything." He turned to leave.

"Stay. You okay?" Dheneb asked, waving away Piper's apology. "You look kinda wound up. Florian Saurer and Bella Poll-Altares, this is Piper… Piper. Damn, Piper, I don't know your last name."

"That's 'cause I don't have one," Piper said brashly, sticking out his hand and shaking Bella's. He was surprised at the firmness of her grip. He then shook Florian's mittened hand. "At least, not one that I know." He turned back to Dheneb. "I wanted to show you something."

Bella perked her ears up, trying to understand some of the words the young man was saying. He seemed to be speaking Durai, but he pronounced words differently, or used different words entirely for some things. This Piper's bronzed complexion was something that she'd never seen in Durai.

"I found this newspaper, and was wondering if it actually said what I thought it might say."

"Durai and Merranese aren't that different," said Rastaban, taking the paper from Piper's hand, looking at page two, where Piper had folded it to. "It's easy to understand."

Piper's bronze cheeks flushed. "Well, forgive me if the Electra like to keep their cattle barely literate," he snapped, masking his embarrassment with anger.

Rastaban felt properly insensitive, Dheneb coming up behind him so they could read the article.

"Forgive me… what's Electra?" Bella asked.

"The ruling family of Pleiades. There's also an island there named after them."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to slow down," she said laughingly.

He repeated himself more slowly.

"So… you were… a slave?" Florian asked.

"Unfortunately."

"Oh god," Rastaban muttered, looking up from the paper.

"It's him, isn't it?" Piper asked, not needing to clarify who he meant. He'd seen the article about the dead little girl in the Clathe train station. Though the Electra didn't want their slaves literate, Piper had managed to sneak some rudimentary skills in reading and writing, though he was certain he could be outstripped by an eight year old. The few words he'd understood included 'murder', 'strange' and 'cut off'. That immediately put Auriga's name all over it.

"Yeah," Dheneb whispered. "Dammit."

"What are you looking at?" Florian leaned over and put his chin on Rastaban's broad shoulder so he could see the paper. "Oh, that murder in Clathe. You know something about that? That happened last week, before you got here." He cocked his head quizzically. "Rhys?"

"We know who did it," Dheneb spat.

"You do?" Bella asked, eyebrows raising high. "Deirdre's even been very adamant about finding who killed that poor girl." Her voice steeled in suppressed rage. "Who could do such a thing?"

"Auriga," Rastaban said with deep, dripping scorn.

"I heard the riikarra mention that name," said Florian.

"General Leven," Dheneb corrected.

"Who is he, then?" Bella asked, leaning against the balcony's railing.

"He's the heir to the throne of Pleiades, and is actually named Orestes Electra," Piper answered before Dheneb or Rastaban could. "I've heard a lot of horror stories so far about your Queen, but Auriga can certainly match her. It's kind of weird that Durai and Pleiades were always separated by the Libra Pass, without us knowing anything about each other, and yet we could have such similar rulers. Both telepaths who would destroy their own kingdom for selfish gains."

"He's telepathic?" Florian echoed sharply. "So, there's another rogue Witch?"

"He's not a Witch," Dheneb said. "He's just a normal man, who just happens to have a better understanding of the mind than anyone I've ever met. If you use the loosest possible definition of 'normal', that is." He said this with begrudging respect.

"And, also just happens to be a complete psycho." Rastaban angrily snapped open the paper and flipped the pages.

"Piper, how's Salius? Unconscious yet?" As it turned out, Salius was the type of person who was resistant to sedation herbs and magic. It took much longer for spells and things like dream root and morphia herb to take effect on him, so Dheneb hadn't been able to put the lunar core in his body yet.

"I think so. He was starting to slip under when I left to explore."

"I can't believe he was here this whole time…" mused Florian. "Disguised as a dog. The dog didn't seem… crazy or anything, though."

"I think being in dog form is what kept him out of Deirdre's sights, and the elves would have been able to sense the glamour magic," Bella said logically. "It must have suppressed his magical powers, and maybe the mania along with it."

"I wonder if the lunar core will affect his ability to transform." Dheneb frowned deeply. "I feel kind of bad about doing it without getting his permission, you know?"

"Come on," Bella said with a shake of her head. "He can't possibly make that kind of decision. He probably can't even dress himself."

"I… I guess so. Still doesn't make me feel better about it. Okay Rhys, after I give Salius the lunar core, we can go over what we're going to do about the last Spires." He clapped Piper on the shoulder as they started to walk away from the balcony. "Rhys?" Dheneb asked, looking over his shoulder when he didn't sense his lover joining them.

Rastaban was sitting in the same spot, looking blankly at the paper, his lips silently moving. He was mouthing the words 'White Dawn', and then looked out into space, his dead eyes very distant, thoughtful.

"Rhys?" Dheneb called, waving his hand in front of Rastaban's gaze. He was again moving his lips, silently talking to himself. "Hello?"

"Huh?" He seemed to snap out of it, looking up at Dheneb sheepishly. "Sorry, darlin'. Wasn't paying attention. What were you saying?"

"I said after I put the lunar core in Salius, we can talk about the Wind Spires."

Rastaban stood up, the paper still in his hands. "You know… I think I have a better idea. But first, Salius."

"What better idea?" Dheneb asked dubiously as they walked behind Piper towards the makeshift medical rooms the elves were using. Their normal palace hospital wing had been decimated in an attack. No sunlight permeated through the thick grey clouds in the sky beyond the elvish glass, even though it was the middle of the day. The thunder rolled louder and angrier than it had been even that morning. "Rhys?"

"After," said Rastaban evasively, which Dheneb knew meant this was going to be something he wouldn't approve of.

"Hello!" Maya cheered lovingly as Dheneb and the others came to the healing rooms. She hugged Dheneb around the waist, completely over the moons about his return. He stroked her hair and she laughed into his stomach. "Kiki's going to be okay, they think!" She looked up at him, joy etched in her small, heart-shaped face.

Though Dheneb was so emotionally drained, he couldn't help the small smile that came across his mouth at her enthusiasm.

The healers were keeping Salius in a separate room from all the other patients, including Kikimora, who was unconscious once more. Imre was there with the now deep-sleeping Witch, and his bright blue gaze immediately sought out Rastaban, looking at him with desperate intent. Rastaban didn't notice, and was more interested in Salius. Imre looked down before he could meet Dheneb's eyes. "He's fully unconscious now," he mumbled into his chest.

"Thanks. Can you turn him on his stomach?" He asked over his shoulder, searching for the sac he'd brought the lunar core in.

Rastaban and Piper turned the sleeping Salius onto his stomach, and pulled away the thin cotton robe he was wearing to expose his back, and the stark black rune tattoos. They both moved out of the way when Dheneb came back over, lunar core in one hand. Bella, Maya, Piper and the present elves all balked at the rather strange looking contraption. Florian closed his eyes, trying not to remember the awful screams Dheneb let out when Deirdre put a similar device in him.

"You're putting that in him?" Bella asked, eyebrow cocked.

"It looks scary!" Maya breathed, hands to her mouth.

"He's asleep, so it won't hurt." Dheneb pursed his lips anyhow, still feeling conflicted about giving the lunar core to Salius without his knowledge or permission. Imre stepped back further, practically hiding himself behind Piper. Though the Rhianon elves in the room were interested in what Dheneb was doing, their pale, gem-like eyes kept flicking over to him. He was even stranger to them than a trio of Witches actually in the same room at the same time. He was a foreign elf, and a half-breed to boot. The way they murmured in their own language while shooting him sidelong looks, or whispered behind their hands while casting him glances told him they didn't approve of humans and elves breeding together.

"Weird…" Bella trailed off, watching as Dheneb straddled Salius, and lined the contraption up with the tattoos on his back. The metal then sank into his skin like water, leaving trails of blood trickling into the sheets. "You think this will cure his madness?"

"I hope so," Dheneb answered, crawling off the bed. "If not, then it will help regulate his magic so he won't be so dangerous to others. But… I don't know if this will affect his transformations."

"You did the right thing," Rastaban assured.

"He should be kept stomach down for the next day or so, until his back isn't so tender," Dheneb said to the doctors. "Now…" He whirled upon Rastaban. "What the hell is this plan of yours?"

Rastaban went over to his lover, and grabbed him by the elbow, leading him out of the room. "I think in private." He squeezed Florian's shoulder as he passed. Maya waved cheerfully.

"What is the big secret?" Dheneb asked, bewildered. Rastaban was leading them down hallways, trying to find a place they could speak alone. They wound up in the foyer of the chapel, the murals all around them depicting images of Magdalena and her saint, Willem. The domed ceiling was an image of the complete lunar cycle, set among images of the stars and constellations. It was reminiscent of Meraphar's eyes.

"It would be wasting too much time for you to teach me how to destroy the Spires," Rastaban said flatly, their voices echoing in the silence of the chapel's entryway. He was still holding the newspaper Piper brought, and held it out, showing Dheneb the article he'd just been reading.

"So what?" Dheneb asked with a shrug. "It's talking about the preparations for this year's White Dawn." The Festival of the White Dawn was an annual celestial event unique to Durai. It was when the moon of Magdalena lined up with the sun to create a pure white sunrise. It was a very holy holiday.

"Deirdre has to make an appearance at that Festival, Dheneb. She's led the prayer every year for 1500 years. She can't miss it this year. Especially now. People are starting to question her rule, and if what the Knights of Ahlixar are saying is true. And, with the Wind Spires being destroyed, the people who don't believe want a vote of confidence from their ruler against the evil force coming to destroy their precious Cassiopeia."

"Which would be me."

"I could distract her," Rastaban said quietly.

"What?" Dheneb snapped, voice reverberating in the silence.

"She doesn't know I'm a Witch. It would catch her by surprise. And, she's weakening."

Dheneb started pacing angrily. "She's too strong for you. And, don't say that you can regenerate!"

Rastaban snapped his mouth shut and pursed his lips, because that's exactly the point he was going to bring up.

"She'll kill you, Rhys. No, we should destroy the last Spires at the same time, and divide her concentration."

"This would divide her concentration. And, she's have to fight me back… in front of thousands of people. This year the Festival is in Mandaran, and it's going to be outdoors in front of the Temple there. It would reveal her as a Witch."

"And, she'd kill you in the process."

"It would give you time to destroy the last of the Spires," Rastaban said firmly. "Maybe it would even give you time to get the one in the Palace, while she wasn't there."

"This is insane. No." Dheneb sliced his hands through the air emphatically. "No."

"So, it's okay for you to risk your life to stop her, but not me? Dheneb…"

"It's too dangerous," Dheneb said, voice raised so he drowned out the other man.

"It's the best plan we've got. If everyone sees that she's a Witch, it will undermine her authority over her army, and make everyone else see the truth."

"How is that the best plan?! You can't regenerate if you die!"

"I know," he whispered.

"I don't have to like it," Dheneb finally said, deflated.

"You think I do?" Rastaban scoffed, sweeping his hands up the sides of Dheneb's neck, cupping his face. "The Festival's in four days. That would give me enough time to read through some of the old books Meraphar kept from the fires. Xarastar did defeat Rahva last time, right?"

Dheneb just sighed angrily. "Rhys, Deirdre is 1500 years old, and…"

"I know. Look, there isn't very much time until the Festival. You want to come help look at maps of Mandaran?"

"I think I'll just stay here for a while."

"Dheneb…"

"I'm not mad, okay? Well, I am, but not at you. At the whole situation. I'll catch up with you."

Rastaban just nodded, leaning in to kiss Dheneb's warm, frowning mouth. Dheneb kissed him back, but it was tinged with sadness. He left Dheneb standing alone under the domed ceiling, surrounded by images of Magdalena that, while beautiful, were lies.

Dheneb put a hand to his mouth, wanting to scream in anger. He knew that Rastaban was right, and he knew that Rastaban could take care of himself, but there were so many things that could go wrong. He walked into the chapel proper, which was dimly lit by candles, lined up along the center aisle towards the altar. The steps up to the altar were completely covered in candles, and garlands of flowers were strung up behind it, as well as mourning wreaths of white lilies and chrysanthemums. Candles and flowers left for Meraphar. There was only one other person in the chapel, who was turned around on the pew, looking over his shoulder at Dheneb.

"It sounded like you were arguing," Wezn commented, his tired face left half in shadow by the candlelight.

"Just don't," Dheneb snapped. "I don't want to deal with your snide comments right now." No light came in through the stained glass windows, showing all the goddesses. The sun was blocked by the thick grey clouds, like it was constantly dusk. The largest of the stained glass windows showed Magdalena surrounded by children. The patron of childbirth.

"I wonder how she felt," Dheneb murmured, looking up at the bright window. It would have been breathtaking had the sun been shining through it. "To be an icon to pregnant women, knowing that she could never have children of her own."

Normally, Wezn would have flinched at such a blasphemous comment, even daring to declare Magdalena a Witch in a chapel of all places. But, today he did not. "I suppose most women would feel the loss of motherhood."

"Did Mother?" Dheneb turned to face Wezn, his skin and eyes looking luminescent in the warm candlelight.

"It's not something we discussed much. We didn't discuss much of anything after…"

"After I was born," Dheneb finished bitterly.

"Yes."

Dheneb just shook his head, walking back down the aisle, his quick motion causing some of the candles to flicker. His footsteps slowed though, and he looked over his shoulder at his father. Wezn could see that the weariness in Dheneb's features mirrored his own. "Do you… do you miss her?"

Wezn didn't answer for a long time. Dheneb started to walk out of the chapel again before his father's voice quietly replied. "I didn't know her anymore. We were strangers who couldn't even be bothered to stay angry at each other. But, I still miss her." He turned back to look up at the flowered altar. "You and Rastaban had an argument?"

"Sort of," Dheneb answered. Were he and his father actually having a civilized conversation right now? He slowly sat down at the end of the pew diagonally behind Wezn. The sweet smell of flowers was strong in the air, laced with incense. Distantly, he could hear the thunder rumbling and the strong winds howling like a banshee. "We weren't fighting, but we weren't agreeing, either. Even though I know he's right."

"About the Cassiopeia?"

"He wants to confront her at the Festival of the White Dawn, while I destroy the last of the Wind Spires."

"That would seem logical," Wezn answered, staring straight ahead. Dheneb's voice was tired and quiet behind him.

"But Rhys hasn't been a Witch for very long!" Dheneb exclaimed heatedly. "Xarastar's magic doesn't work the same way as an elemental's, and Deirdre's still so powerful. Even when all the Spires are gone…" He trailed off. "He can't regenerate everything!"

"But, if she were distracted, and you destroyed the Spires, then she would weaken. Perhaps, as a Knight, he hates the idea of being idle, and wants to fight. He could also see you shouldering the load, and want to alleviate you of that responsibility. You know that he's correct, but logic and emotion rarely agree."

"I know that. I do. But, I hate the idea of him putting himself in danger like this."

"Perhaps now you understand how he feels when you put your own life at risk."

Dheneb pursed his lips, staring intently at the back of his father's head. "I guess I didn't look at it that way," he said, feeling pretty selfish. "So… you believe that Deirdre's a Witch now?"

Wezn again didn't reply for a long time, and only the thunder could be heard beyond the elvish glass. "The evidence is hard to ignore." He kept staring ahead, not looking back at Dheneb. Like he was a parishioner, a stranger. "She spoke into my mind."

"When?"

"The day the Gold Knights came to the house to take us. I also saw the lightning in her eyes."

"You mustn't have wanted to believe it. She is your beloved ruler. I don't think anyone wants to believe it, and that's why nobody's questioned all the evidence."

Wezn now turned to look over his shoulder at Dheneb. This was the most civil they'd been with each other since… ever. He could see his own youthful face in Dheneb, a life that was now like a stranger's to him. Before he'd had a Natural mage as a child. A Natural mage, a Witch with the same kinds of powers that Deirdre had. Powers that could become dangerous and control an entire nation. This Witch. "She's just like every other Witch," Wezn muttered, turning back to the front of the chapel. His harsh words masked his ever-growing conflict towards his estranged son.

Dheneb frowned deeply, hearing the underlying insult. "You know…" He said, standing up. "We almost had a real conversation there." He'd almost let himself believe that his father could be coming around, after all he'd seen and experienced. And, he felt stupid for letting himself do so. He stalked out of the chapel, Wezn not making a move to stop or follow. He found himself walking down a long hallway that hung high above the burned Rhianon forests, a glass-encased bridge joining two parts of the castle. He looked up to the sky, watching the thick grey clouds swirl, illuminated from behind by angry forks of lightning. He could see the dark funnel of a tornado in the distance.

He'd shared his mind with Deirdre for almost two years, and he still couldn't understand why she'd destroyed her own kingdom. She would have power over a desolate wasteland. Even a Witch of Envanya couldn't live out there in these conditions. She'd put everything she ruled over under glass. Her Palace. Her cities. Her subjects. And, she'd trapped herself under that glass along with all of it. He shook his head bitterly, and found himself back near the rooms that were the make-shift hospital. There was some activity, and Dheneb curiously peeked in, and saw that Kikimora was awake.

She looked very groggy as the elves bustled over her, Maya bouncing happily on the balls of her feet at the bedside. She looked over at Dheneb, and kept her dark eyes on him as the elves examined her further. Her gaze was blank, emotionless, and Dheneb gave her a weak smile. He wouldn't be surprised if she had some ill feelings towards Witches right about then.

"Dheneb, look!" Maya chirped, dancing on the spot and pointing at Kikimora. "Look, look!"

"Hi," Dheneb said to her, feeling very uncomfortable in her presence for the first time that he could remember.

"She seems mentally and physically sound," the lead doctor murmured. "Just fatigued and a little malnourished, but that's easily remedied."

"Thank you." He watched as the elves left, as if sensing that a rather private conversation was going to happen. He almost hoped they would stay.

"I'm so happy!" Maya exclaimed, her large brown eyes shining with tears. "Did you hear me talking to you?" She asked, taking one of Kikimora's hands in hers.

"…no," she answered at length, her voice wispy, sounding unused. "No, I couldn't hear you, Maya." Instead she thought of Morutsuyo's voice, echoing in her head while she'd been unconscious. She looked over Maya's head to Dheneb.

"How… are you?"

"Terrible," she answered. She looked at Dheneb, and saw the change in him that the past two years had brought. "I think I missed a lot," she said dully, looking at his skin and his eyes.

"Do you… do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. Not yet."

"Fine." There was a finality in her tone that said she wanted this conversation to end. "I wasn't the one who possessed you, you know?" He blurted out before he could stop himself. He felt guilty for saying something that was that callous to her right now, but he was also sick of being lumped together with people like Morutsuyo and Deirdre, just because they'd been born the same way. He left the room before she could reply.

Deirdre's insides clenched with each roll of thunder. It was Durai screaming, trying to fight off her yoke. Her Durai was siding with her enemies. She lay among all the cushions on her posh bed, taking cover behind a screen. Now that there were fewer and fewer Wind Spires, her control over her glamour was waning. She couldn't even spend time with Rigel, because her mask kept slipping, and showing the pulsing lightning under her skin. It kept revealing the black rune tattoos, and the hollow, windy context of her speaking voice. She clutched at her chest, fighting what she truly was. She just needed to hold off until Dheneb was dead. Or, until he was back with her. Because she still wanted his hot power, she craved it like a drug. And, coming back to her was the only way she would let him, or anyone he loved, survive.

"My Lady?" Nebula's voice called from within Deirdre's bedchamber, on the other side of the screen. "You sent for me?"

"I did," Deirdre murmured, trying desperately to at least keep her voice sounding normal. She could see Nebula's silhouette bowing.

"My Lady, you are unwell?" Nebula asked, hearing the Cassiopeia's panted breath on the other side of the partition. She could see the outline of the woman laying amongst her pillows.

"I seem to have taken ill with a minor flu. I want to stay in bed until the Festival."

"Of course, My Lady."

"I have received word from my spy in the Rhianonuit Palace," Deirdre said calmly. Her fingers dug into her breasts as fresh pain washed through her, her control slipping. She had to stifle a loud groan, and wished Aleksandr was here to hold her hand, but she'd ordered him to keep Rigel away until she'd regained control of her glamour. "A servant to Hraza. She says that Dheneb and Rastaban are back. There was some sort of great magical disturbance within the Palace, but my spy wasn't near there at the time. She said that they arrived with a small party including Orchid Diamondeyes, Dheneb's father, and a large riikarra who speaks in a foreign accent."

"Foreign…?" Nebula asked in disbelief.

"She only saw Dheneb and Rastaban briefly, and Rastaban was in armour, but she knew it was them. She's now closed in chambers with Hraza as they have a traditional mourning for Meraphar, so she's perfectly placed for the next stage of things." Deirdre groaned, bile rising up her throat. She swallowed it back, collapsing against her pillows.

"My Lady…?"

"Rhianonuit must fall," Deirdre hissed through clenched teeth.

Nebula's grey eyes narrowed as she watched Deirdre's silhouette writhe. She saw a flash of light from behind the screen, and thought that it was lightning from the rose window nearby. But, deep inside, she questioned this. She felt like it should be something more, like she knew this somehow, and had forgotten. Deirdre could hear Nebula's thoughts, and could sense that the Knight was getting close to remembering when she saw Deirdre with her glamour down. She pressed into Nebula's mind, and made her questions vanish.

"Rhianonuit must fall," Deirdre repeated as if the last moment in time hadn't happened. "And, it will happen on the Festival."

"What do you wish as a plan?" Nebula asked, her armour clinking as she shifted her weight.

"I know that Dheneb will try to use this day to destroy more Wind Observation Towers, as I will be in Mandaran for the White Dawn. I want you to use every soldier we have stationed there. I want you to use every soldier that was set to stand guard at the Festival."

"No, Your Grace!" Nebula stood. "You cannot forsake your own safety."

"Do not worry about my safety, Nebula!" She shouted angrily. "I want Hraza dead! I want every elf dead! I want every Gold Knight to storm the castle, and kill everyone who stands in your way. Elves are strong magically, but Fomalhaut will prove useful here. I know that she's been testing out spells on elvish prisoners. If my spy's information is correct, and there is a riikarra with them, be mindful that diamondbacks are strong even against curses, and that he will probably be a warrior if he came from wherever they were hiding."

"Yes, My Lady."

"Though, there are two people I want left alive, and brought here to the Palace." Deirdre sat up, her anger making her more in control of herself. "Unharmed, Nebula. Bring me Bella Poll-Altares, and the Reverend Azi-Daehar."

"Why, My Lady? What use are they now?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"Of course not," Nebula quickly said, falling into a bow again.

"I would still like siblings for my dear Rigel, and I have the suspicion that Bella could be pregnant again. And, Dheneb will come if he knows his father is here. His noble intentions are obvious, and a weakness."

"What of Rastaban?"

Deirdre chuckled. "I know you're too smart to stand between him and Fomalhaut's all-consuming revenge. I have not seen her for a few days. I can only assume that when she came back from Rhianonuit, she went back to Sku'lava."

"But… Your Highness, how are we to get through the barrier set up by the elvish magic?"

"You let my spy deal with that. Cygnus is in contact with her. He will be able to co-ordinate a synchronized attack. Just get Fomalhaut and all the troops you can muster, and plan to storm Rhianonuit during the White Dawn. You bring me Bella and Wezn, and kill everyone else."

"What if Dheneb is in the Palace?" Nebula asked. "You said he would be destroying the Towers, but what if he's not?"

"I want him alive," Deirdre said in a tone that wasn't to be argued with. "Find Fomalhaut now, and leave me to rest."

"Yes, Your Highness." Nebula rose with uncertainty, and left the now quiet chambers. Deirdre's silhouette wasn't moving from behind the screen. She walked down a grand, wide staircase, wondering where she was going to get that many troops from. The elves were outnumbered, but they were hearty both magically and physically. It was a different story than if Rhianonuit were full of humans. And, if they had a riikarra on their side… Nebula was worried. They were very, very strong, and brutally vicious fighters. They were staying neutral in the war thus far, but if they heard a riikarra was fighting alongside the elves, would that change?

Nebula walked to a main garden of the Palace, where she'd be able to teleport from. She was standing in the warmth of the garden, surrounded by the smell of fresh plants and flowers, and then was in the biting chill of outdoors, standing at the great old gates of Sku'lava, nostrils filled with the stench of the dead bodies hanging from the legendary Gallows. She approached the doors, knowing that Fomalhaut had magical wards up. She could see a figure move in the watchtower, and then the doors swung open before her. Nebula stepped into the dank cold, the doors closing with an echoing slam. Within the torchlight, she saw a pair of figures come up the steps to meet her. When she saw them, she balked, hand going to her sword.

"You are Nebula?" The man on the left asked, his words garbled because he had no lips. His lidless eyes stared at her, looking wild and monstrous. The man on the right was mutilated in much the same fashion. The cuts looked rather fresh, their teeth permanently bared like skeletons. They appeared to be wearing cloaks made of tanned leather. There were odd shapes in the fabric that made Nebula realize it wasn't cow leather, but human flesh. Her stomach churned. "We've heard your description," the one on the left hissed.

"Where is Fomalhaut?" She asked shakily when she could find her voice. Her cleft chin quavered as she tried to hold back her disgust.

The mutilated men bowed and ushered with their arms for her to follow, like grotesque butlers. Her heavy footsteps shockingly filled Sku'lava's halls, the men before her walking silently. She was led down, down, and then led to a side room. Nebula had never gone into the bowels of the Gallows, to the cells where Fomalhaut kept her prisoners, her test subjects.

"Wait here," one of the men instructed, bowing low for some reason. She watched them go, unable to hide the revulsion on her pale face.

She waited in the cool room for a moment, then Fomalhaut appeared, smiling widely. "Nebula! To what do I owe the honour of you sullying yourself by coming to see me?" She asked sharply, her maniacal eyes dancing, bordering between fury and amusement. Her good cheek was flushed, and there was an air of excitement about her.

Nebula struggled to fight down the vomit that always rose when she was in the other Knight's presence. She didn't think she'd ever get used to such a stench. "The Cassiopeia has given orders." Her grey eyes narrowed. "Who were those men?"

"The new breed of warrior," Fomalhaut breathed, smile widening. "Courtesy of my new companion." She gestured with a hand to the room behind Nebula. She turned, and gasped when she saw a man leaning against the wall. Had he been there the whole time, behind her? Watching her?

He pushed himself away from the wall and came into the light proper. She saw that he had the same lidless eyes as the other men, save for the fact that the were midnight black, with a hypnotic hazel iris. She felt complete horror at his appearance. He wore a crown and collar of bones and horns, and his lips were scarred. Nebula was a tall, powerful warrior, and had never felt as small as she did in his eyes.

"I've heard much of you," he murmured. He had a charming, velvety voice that clashed horribly with the nightmare of his appearance. He bowed to her, but it was with a very sarcastic air. She didn't even question mentally if Fomalhaut had done this to him. There was too much power roiling off him. No, if anything, he was the one in charge here, and Fomalhaut was cowing to him.

"Who are you?" She demanded, trying to sound steely.

"My name is Auriga," he murmured, voice laced with an alien accent. "I have come to fight in your cause, against the fugitive Black Knight, Rastaban."

"How do you know him?" Nebula hissed. She kept her hand on her sword, though he made no move to attack her. She felt very uncomfortable in his presence.

"Rastaban and Orchid Diamondeyes took refuge in my kingdom."

"You are royalty?"

"Why so many questions, Nebula?" Fomalhaut asked, coming up behind the man and slithering her arms around his shoulders.

"Because I don't know who this man is," she said. "He could be a spy."

Auriga gave a snort of derision and bared his awful teeth in a shark-like smile. He didn't seem phased in the slightest by her stench. "I think you need all the help you can muster, Lady Nebula." He couldn't begrudge her suspicion, since he was omitting the fact that Rastaban was a Witch too. It just seemed more amusing this way.

"I have things to discuss with my lieutenant in private, Sir."

"Of course." He bowed to her again, the gold of his nails glinting in the torchlight. His black lidless eyes watched the ladies as they left the small room. As she left, Auriga gently poked into Nebula's thoughts, and found a recent blankness, the stamp of telepathic interference. So, she'd seen something her Queen hadn't wanted her to see. He looked up to the crumbling ceiling, and waited patiently. He knew Fomalhaut would tell him everything. She was so enraptured that she would pluck out her heart and give it to him if he asked for it. She was letting him breed Tsiiva again without question, not asking anything beyond his answer of 'persuasion' to explain how he was controlling them.

She herself was not a prime candidate for this. There were two groups of humans who it was nearly impossible to brainwash. The first were children, and the second were the mentally afflicted. They saw the world in very different ways from a 'normal' human mind, and could actually fight off real, true brainwashing. For all Auriga's psychosis, he saw the world as it really was, and couldn't properly tune his thought path to how things existed in the eyes of children, the mentally handicapped, or the truly crazy. The only way to brainwash a child was through years and years of constant conditioning, which Auriga just didn't have the patience for, and no amount of conditioning could work on someone as mentally unbalanced as his new little half-rotten puppet.

"We have orders," Nebula said lowly once the mutilated servants had left them alone. "And, where did he come from?"

"He's a King from across the Libra Pass."

Nebula narrowed her grey eyes until they were nothing but slits. She thought of the word that Rastaban and Dheneb had brought a foreign riikarra with them. "And, you trust him?" She asked, nonplussed. "Just like that?"

"An enemy of an enemy is a friend," she sneered. "And, he doesn't recoil from me, Renelle."

To Nebula, that spoke volumes about this stranger's character. "We are to attack Rhianonuit on the White Dawn. The Cassiopeia believes this is when Dheneb will make his move. She has a spy within the Palace that's close to Hraza, and is also in contact with Cygnus. The spy will give a signal when Hraza is out of the equation, and we'll be able to storm them."

In the next room, Auriga sucked in his breath. So… Dheneb was still alive. This he hadn't known. It seemed that incompetent half-breed servant of Leven's couldn't even get a simple poisoning right. But, he didn't despair. In fact, this worked out well. Dheneb would weaken the Witch Queen, and they would ultimately destroy each other. Then, Rastaban would be the only real obstacle between the Durai throne and himself.

"What about Rastaban?" Fomalhaut asked with a voice that shook with bloodlust that was nearly sexual.

"He's to die. Everyone dies, save for two. The Cassiopeia was most adamant that Dheneb's father, and Bella Poll-Altares were to be brought back to her. Unharmed, Talia."

Fomalhaut stamped her foot and started cursing madly under her breath, blue eyes wide with unchecked fury. "Why?" She demanded. "Why does Bella always get a free pass?!" She screamed. "Precious fucking Bella!" She screamed in pure rage, howling up to the domed Sku'lava ceiling.

"Calm yourself," Nebula commanded, disgusted by this undignified show of emotion. "They are your Queen's orders, and you must accept them."

Fomalhaut panted, wrestling with her anger. Her sunken nostril made loud suction noises as she calmed her breathing. "The Festival's in four days. Auriga can sway plenty more soldiers in that time."

"You think I'm allowing that… man anywhere near Rhianonuit?"

"We need powerful magic against the elvish traitors," Fomalhaut breathed, her good cheek filling with a pink hue. "And, he can bring that. If you want carnage, he can bring that. In spades."

Nebula knew that they needed as many troops as they could muster, and she didn't agree with the plan of leaving Deirdre unprotected. "There's a riikarra with them," Nebula said. "A foreigner. If Abugior get word that a riikarra is fighting alongside Dheneb and the elves, they may join the battle. So… bring Auriga's monsters, if you wish. But, don't think I'm taking my eye off him for a moment. We'll teleport into the Rhianon camp the day before the Dawn, and rendezvous with Cygnus." She turned on her heel and stormed back up the stairs, wanting more than anything to get out of this place, and wash the taint of Fomalhaut's smell off her skin. And, to scrub herself clean of this new stranger's lidless glare.

As Fomalhaut came back to him and said what Nebula reported, Auriga's mind thought of Leven. So, he'd come all the way across the Pass, too. No doubt here to collect my head. Going into a country of elves meant that Auriga's telepathy, and the lesser telepathy of his mentally augmented Tsiiva, would be rather useless. But, they still had the magic he'd taught them. And, they could still act as a meat wall to slow up any elvish counter-attack.

"Finally," Fomalhaut breathed, wrapping her arms around Auriga's waist, pressing the good side of her face into his chest. "Finally!" She hissed. "Rastaban will pay for what he's done to me. I'll make him suffer. I'll make him wish he'd never laid eyes on Dheneb. I'll make him wish he hadn't cursed me in the name of such an abomination!" She vowed, clutching Auriga's robes in her shaking fists. She looked up at him, eyes awash with desire. "I'll have my vengeance. Against all of them who look at me like I'm a freak. Like I'm less than them. They'll be sorry. And," her voice dropped. "I'll have you, right?"

He stroked her rotten, ruined cheek. "Of course you will, my darling Talia. I want nothing more."

She smiled, sighing as she held him tighter. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his scarred lips. She put her head to his chest again, stroking his back, laughing with pure glee. "Oh gods, I love you."

Auriga stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. He smirked into her auburn tresses. "I love you too," he lied through his jagged teeth.

"Florian?"

He looked up from his pillows when he heard Bella quietly call his name as she rapped on his door.

"I'm awake," he called back. All the excitement of Dheneb and Rastaban's return had sapped him of what little strength he carried in his waifish body.

"Maya said you'd come to rest," she murmured, coming into his bedroom. She gently closed the door behind her, then came to stand by the bedside. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" He trailed off with a weary smile. "Just tired. Not much of a surprise." He frowned suddenly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she assured. "It's kind of… weird, to have Dheneb, Rastaban and Orchid back. But, good too. Really, really good. And, poor Kiki…" She shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. "Possessed by a phantasm all this time. It's unconscionable. Something out of a children's ghost story. But, she's okay now, and even Salius seems like he's on the road to recovery. I don't know. Perhaps it feels like things are starting to turn around."

Florian sat up, swinging his skinny legs over the side of the bed, mirroring her position. "Or, it's the beginning of the end."

"Aren't I supposed to be the pessimistic one, and you the cheery one, always seeing the bright side?"

"More like the stupid one. I still can't believe I was so… blind to her."

"She fooled all of us."

"Not the elves. Not Rhys. He never liked her. I was so furious with him for years. All because I thought he was being so stupid about not trusting her. I mean, he didn't know she was a Natural mage, or Witch or whatever, but he still didn't trust her. I called him a traitor, and he called me a fool. We didn't talk to each other for years."

"He doesn't seem to care about that now. And, you were really happy to see him."

"I was happy to see both of them. Am happy. Dheneb looks so tired, though."

"This whole mess must be a huge strain on him. And, it's not like we can do anything to help him against her. I don't even know how we're going to get Rigel back." Bella ran her hands through her hair. "Feeling this helpless feels…" She trailed off, breathing heavily. "In the monk schooling, we were taught that helplessness is failure. Anessirra is strength. She's power and solidarity." She balled her fists in her lap. "And, look at me now."

"How is this failure?" Florian whispered, reaching up and gently squeezing her shoulder. "You're alive. You've survived. Deirdre wanted to break you. But, she didn't. All her power and her lies couldn't defeat you. You're carrying another life in you. How is that failure?"

She looked into his earnest, warm eyes. They weren't looking as sunken as they had been. He was slowly gaining weight, gaining his old body back. He meant every word he said to her. "Thank you," she whispered, cocking her head as he touched the side of her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. She closed her dark eyes and let him touch her like this. He stroked his slender fingers through her hair, and then down her shoulder. His hands felt warm and familiar, and she leaned into him. It felt really nice when he put his arms around her, cocooning her in his embrace. She breathed in the smell of him, feeling his slender ribcage pressed against her torso. She could feel the pulse in his throat against her cheek, and she could feel his warm breath against the side of her face. She closed her eyes tighter, willing away the sudden thought of the last time she'd felt a man's breath on her skin. Cygnus's hot, panting breath as he penetrated her again and again. The way he would laugh. The way his friends and flunkies would laugh when he let them watch.

She clenched her teeth as Florian held her tighter, hearing Cygnus calling her a whore and a slut as he let his friends anally rape her while he spewed more of his seed into her womb. How they would ejaculate and urinate on her while Cygnus laughed and laughed. How he would beat her, and flick the butts of his cigars at her when he was done with her for the night. How his arms were holding her tightly to prevent a struggle, his hot drunken breath on her cheek, his hands greedily stroking her shoulder and hair…

She wrenched herself out of Florian's arms, shoving him away with such force that he fell off the edge of the bed, slamming his head into the nightstand. She vaulted off the bed, stumbling away from him, until she'd backed into the wall. She was panting, and he looked up at her with confusion, blood trickling down his cheek from under his hair.

"Bella…"

She had to look away from him, from the concern and the hurt in his eyes. How could he look so dejected and caring at the same time? She cared about him deeply. Maybe even loved him. But, all she could feel were Cygnus's assaults. "I'm sorry," she mumbled hastily, dashing from the room, slamming the door behind her.

The Festival of the White Dawn approached faster than Dheneb or Rastaban would have liked, but that was the way with time. When something dreaded was coming, time seemed to speed up. Rastaban had spent much time immersing himself in old spell books, trying to prepare himself for facing Deirdre, but knowing that this was probably going to be a suicide mission, or very near it. He was banking on his regenerative powers, without really knowing how much he could regenerate. He knew it was insane, but he knew it was a better alternative to simply attacking the Spires. Deirdre needed to be exposed.

"You can still change your mind," Dheneb murmured, his chin resting on Rastaban's shoulder. It was dark in the room they shared in the Rhianonuit Palace, mere hours before the White Dawn. Magdalena's moon was large and luminous, even behind the thick cloud cover.

"Will you help me put my armour on?"

Dheneb sighed heavily, watching Rastaban rise from the bed. His skin radiated warm orange light, and his eyes followed every move Rastaban made as he put on the cotton garments he wore under his armour. "Are you sure?"

Rastaban cocked his head, giving Dheneb an exasperated, yet very affectionate look. "If I just help you, nobody will ever believe that she's really a Witch." He reached up and tied his long hair back with a black satin ribbon.

"Yeah, yeah. And, they'll think I'm a traitor and the assassin of their much beloved Queen," Dheneb muttered, repeating the argument they'd had over and over for days now. He rose from the bed, still nude, and helped Rastaban tie together the pieces that made up his monstrous looking armour. "She needs to be exposed to lose the confidence of her armies," he echoed.

Rastaban stopped before putting on his gauntlets. He reached up and touched the side of Dheneb's face, letting the heat of his flesh sink through his fingers, move through his body. "The ceremony will be starting soon."

"I wish you could just kill her," Dheneb whispered. Deirdre was too strong magically to be felled by any of the deathly spells in all of Xarastar's arsenal. She had to be whittled down before she could be killed.

"Me too," Rastaban whispered back. He slowly slipped his hands into his gauntlets. "You know… I kind of feel like this is the last mission for Rastaban. Maybe… I guess after this, I'll be coming back as Xarastar."

"Just as long as you do come back."

Rastaban held his helmet in his hands, looking at Dheneb, standing naked and utterly beautiful before him, his face etched with fatigue and worry.

"Knowing I'll be coming back to you?" Rastaban asked with a trademark grin, masking his internal anguish. "You can bet on it, darlin'. You survived imprisonment for two years, teleported through an impossible geological barrier, and walked for days just to find me. You have every right to be ashamed of me if I try any less."

Dheneb pursed his lips to keep them from trembling. "You certainly know how to charm the pants off someone," he said, voice shaking.

"Your pants are already off…" Rastaban trailed off, sweeping Dheneb's body hungrily with his eyes. He leaned in and kissed that warm mouth, feeling Dheneb's lips quivering under his own. "For luck," he whispered, using all the willpower he had to break the kiss. He slipped his helmet on, and murmured "See you soon" before teleporting away.

"No word yet?" Fomalhaut asked, pacing a circle around Cygnus's tent. He was sitting at the table, waiting for word from Deirdre's elvish spy, locked in private quarters with Hraza.

"For the hundredth time, no. So shut up," he hissed. Cygnus didn't know where to look. He hated looking at Fomalhaut's disgusting face, or into her maniacal eyes. But, he also found he couldn't look at this new stranger that she'd brought into their midst. This Auriga with his lidless eyes and savage teeth. But, the Knight could feel that black gaze on him, drilling into him, stripping him bare. He felt unclean and sickened in this man's presence.

"What are you staring at?" Cygnus asked sharply, pale eyes briefly flicking over to Auriga, who was wearing his cloak of tanned human skin, and a wolf's pelt draped across his shoulders. His crown cast nightmarish shadows on the tent's canvas walls.

"Nothing. Merely waiting for the Queen's signal so I can inform my men, My Lord." He grinned, exotically accented voice dripping honey and sarcasm.

"He should be calling you 'My Lord'," Fomalhaut snapped, squeezing Auriga's bicep lovingly.

"I've never heard of such a kingdom," Cygnus muttered, itching to pull out his claymore. "So, why should I bow to its King?"

"Enough!" Nebula snapped. "Remember, Dheneb could be in there. The only way we can defeat such a creature is by placing a magic-dampening collar on him again. Don't try to engage him otherwise."

"He does have a weakness," Auriga murmured.

"And, that would be?" Cygnus asked when no further reply came.

"He is human," Auriga said as if it were the simplest thing in the world, still conveniently forgetting to mention that Rastaban had ascended to Xarastar. "Humans are mortal, and they have a weakness of mind that the elvish do not."

"What does that even mean?" Cygnus asked incredulously, rising to his feet in anger.

"Watch it," Fomalhaut hissed, coming between the two men. Auriga put his hand on her shoulder, nails making the scraping noise of metal against metal when they grazed over her armour.

"It's alright, my dear." Auriga stared over the top of her head at the other man. "Cygnus is correct not to trust me. But, we both have the goal of… eradicating the Witch filth."

"The sky begins to lighten," Nebula informed, coming out of the tent. The rest of the Gold Knights, and five dozen platoons of the Durai army stood waiting in formation, joined by the smaller but very fierce looking group of mutilated Tsiiva warriors that answered to Auriga. Warriors made up of prisoners and criminals, brainwashed into complete fealty.

"These elves wish your Cassiopeia harm!" Nebula shouted, the others coming out of the tent behind her. "She is our Queen, and we protect her!! Durai is our home, and we protect her!! These elves are traitors to her crown! They side with a Natural Mage! A Witch!" She hissed. "Demons that shouldn't exist! A demon that is destroying our Wind Observation Towers! A Witch that's plunging us into decay!"

There were loud cries of agreement from the troops.

"The elves are weak without Meraphar!" Nebula continued. "And, we are strong! We are united! We are joined by loyalty to High Cassiopeia Deirdre! This White Dawn will be red with Rhianonuit blood!"

The troops all started shouting, chanting Nebula's name, chanting Deirdre's name, and cursing Dheneb's and the elves.

"You all know that our Queen made the request that two prisoners be brought back to the Palace, and your commanding officers have all briefed you. Reverend Wezn Azi-Daehar and Bella Poll-Altares are to be captured. Whoever does this will be rewarded by our Lady herself!"

Auriga looked over to his Tsiiva while Nebula spoke, his scarred lips smirking. Yes, I have shown you the pictures of these two people. Capture them without doing them bodily harm. Keep up appearances and fight the elves, but kill as many of Nebula's men as you can without being caught doing so.

The Tsiiva captain, wearing a duster of fine fur and a necklace of human teeth, nodded to Auriga, casting a sidelong glance to Nebula with his wide, lidless eyes.

"The White Dawn approaches," Orchid said, watching the sky. In their private mourning quarters, Hraza knelt beside Meraphar's body, which would be cremated during this holy holiday. "Let us pray," the elvish Queen whispered with her family. She bowed her head, crystal tears trickling down her fair cheeks as she heard her children bow down beside her. She then felt a hot prick of pain in her back, that exploded into a gasp as a knife was twisted into her, then wrenched out and stabbed in again. She looked over her shoulder in shock, and saw one of her handmaids pulling the dagger from her back, her white and ice blue robes splattered with her Queen's blood.

Orchid was reaching for her rapier as the handmaid ran to the window and threw something out. Orchid sprinted across the room and stabbed the girl through the torso, but she was already dead, having bitten down on a cyanide pill hidden in her mouth. The now pure white sky exploded with the grenade the handmaid had thrown out.

Orchid's mother, Zinnia, cradled her own mother's body in her arms, siblings surrounding her.

"We are betrayed," Orchid hissed. "And, under attack."

"What was that?" Imre asked, elsewhere in the castle. There was no point in trying to sleep, since the castle was full of activity, and because of the strangely bright dawn.

"Sounded like an explosion," Piper murmured, furrowing his brow. They were sitting in one of the small libraries, not taking part in the prayers. This wasn't a particularly religious holiday for them, since the White Dawn phenomenon didn't happen in Pleiades.

"Fireworks?" Imre wondered, uncertain how they celebrated this holiday.

"Probably."

They were huddled over a simple youth's story book, Imre helping Piper spell out the words, having agreed to help the former slave improve his literacy. It kept his mind off his own exile, the way the elves here stared at him, and off Rastaban. And, Piper was the only person here who really talked to him, so he was more than happy to help.

"The… eastern moo-ount… oh, mountains." He flushed, embarrassed. "The eastern mountains rose high into the… into the… clouds?" He asked.

"Yes." Imre gave him an encouraging nod. "You're doing really good."

"I feel like a moron."

"Well, don't. I think it's amazing that you got this far, and in secret, too. I couldn't have done that much in that situation. I don't know what I'm going to do in this situation."

"You mean your exile?" Piper looked up from the book. Imre's fair face was etched in sadness. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know if he'd even seen the other young man really smile. But then again, there wasn't much to smile about.

"What am I going to do?" He asked, spreading out his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"You're a good healer. And, this place is a war zone. You'll have plenty of work. You could probably even become a surgeon with some training."

"The elves here won't let me do anything. Don't you see the way they look at me?"

"Who gives a crap what they think? As if there aren't half-human, half-elves born here. I wouldn't believe that for a second."

"I wish I could have your confidence and bravery. I couldn't imagine living in that castle."

Piper frowned and flipped to the next page.

"I'm sorry," Imre mumbled, fiddling with a button on his black shirt. "That's a sore subject, huh?"

"Not one that I can ignore, though." Piper cast a sidelong glance at Imre, still very much bewitched by his beauty. "This place is much better, but…"

"Not what you expected," Imre finished. "Me neither. It feels very magical, but very… backwards at the same time. I don't know if that's the right word. Maybe… stuck? Trapped?"

"I know. No autocars, no zeppelins. Those communicard things they use instead of telephones and cinema-screens are pretty cool, though. They'd be a lot better than relying on wires, since they could still be used during a power outage or in a war zone." Piper shrugged. "But, living under glass…?" He turned back to the book. "That is were… no, wh-ere. Where! That is where the Princess of the Dawn lived."

"You could leave," Imre muttered sulkily.

"To where?" Piper asked, not looking up from the book as he mouthed the next sentence. "I couldn't find work back home. I'd have to compete with all the other slaves. I went to some really nice countries in Svolvarda with Clytemnestra, but I couldn't afford to go there. At least here, I can help Dheneb. 'The Princess of the Dawn was very lovely, with hair like…' um, what's this word?"

"Goldenrod," Imre read over Piper's shoulder.

"Gol-den-rod," he repeated.

"You feel that much loyalty for Dheneb?"

"Well, sure." Piper sat back in the chair, looking at the bright white sky, filtering through the mystical elvish glass. "I felt an instant connection with him. I just really liked him, right from the first. Something beyond the fact that he's an avatar of Faire-Ahlixar, or that he's completely gorgeous and has a fantastic body. I guess it's kinda brotherly."

Imre's eyebrows raised a little in surprise. He'd never heard Piper say anything with a sexual connotation before. He cocked his head, regarding Piper in those terms. Though plain of features, there really was something very sexually charged about him. It glittered in his dark, dark eyes, and was spoken about in the way he moved. "You think Dheneb is good looking?" He asked quietly, maybe hopefully.

"Don't you?" Piper pursed his lips as he watched Imre's impossibly blue eyes cast downward, eyes that gave him his elvish surname of Cerulia. Eyes he'd inherited from his father. "Never mind. Sorry." Piper opened his mouth, trying to stop himself from blurting out his thoughts on Imre's obsessive crush on Rastaban, but he didn't have to exact self-control, because he was interrupted by Imre rising to his feet like his chair was on fire.

Piper looked at him with a furrowed brow, wondering if he'd actually really offended Imre. The half-elf was staring towards the door, his lovely face growing paler and paler. Then, Piper knew what was making him look so horrified. Imre's elvish hearing had picked it up first. The screaming. The small explosions. The sound of metal clashing with metal.

"No, wait!" Imre hissed, gripping Piper's wrist as he got up and made a move towards the door. Piper fumbled around in one of his pockets, and quickly drew out a switchblade. Imre gasped when the blade was popped out, then covered his mouth with his hand. He held onto Piper's wrist for dear life as they shuffled towards the door. Piper peeked out, and saw someone wearing the gold accented grey uniform of what he assumed was the Durai army. The woman was slicing down one of the doctors that Piper had seen several times around the castle.

"Oh, God," he breathed, seeing that the army woman wasn't alone. She was fighting side by side with a man with a mutilated face, missing his eyelids and lips.

Imre looked over Piper's broad shoulder, and let out a breath of pure horror. Piper felt very stiff in front of him.

"Follow me," Piper mouthed, very quietly sneaking out of the small library, trying to make his way in the opposite direction before the Tsiiva could sense he was there. He was far more afraid of him than he was of any Durai official. Because wherever this Tsiiva was, Auriga was not far behind. He led Imre along the wall, towards an intersection in the hallway, trying to keep his mind as blank as possible.

His steps faltered before they could even get halfway to the intersection. When he felt blood trickling down over his lips, he knew the Tsiiva had felt him there. He looked over his shoulder to see both the army woman and the Tsiiva looking at the pair of them.

"Halt!" The woman cried, voice echoing in the hallway. Distantly, Imre's good hearing could pick up the awful sounds of battle. She had a musket in her hand, and fired at them. Imre shoulder-checked Piper as her bullet went through a tapestry nearby. She began to load the gun again, but was stopped when the Tsiiva with her decapitated her without a word or even a sidelong glance.

Imre gasped, starting to breathe heavily. Piper had landed half on top of him, so his legs were trapped. He bit his lip, staring in horror at the Tsiiva. And, the Tsiiva was staring right back at him. Though his ruined face couldn't show emotion, he seemed angry. Blood was pouring down Piper's face, drenching Imre's chest in blood too, and he was sluggishly lashing out at the half-human. Imre had to grip Piper's wrist in both his hands to avoid getting sliced up by the switchblade.

"Piper, stop!" He exclaimed, trying to look at the Tsiiva and watch out for the knife at the same time. Piper was falling under the effects of the Tsiiva telepathy, but Imre wondered why he wasn't, too. After all, he'd been controlled by Auriga to poison Dheneb, so he knew he was susceptible. Again, he had to push Piper's hand away so he wouldn't get his throat slashed. He dug his thumb into a nerve bundle in Piper's wrist, causing him to drop the knife. "I'm sorry," he whispered, because he knew it would have hurt badly. He grabbed the blade and wiggled out from under Piper's dead weight. The Tsiiva was coming to them, and thrust out magic at the two of them. Imre turned away, and the blast of it hit him in the shoulder, showering him with hot gold sparks. It clung to his clothes like glittering snow.

The Tsiiva cast another spell, and it burned Imre like it was acid, eating through the back of his robes, burning his skin. He cried out from the intense pain, gold flecks hovering in his vision. He set his jaw, hearing Piper make a low noise of suffering. Another blast of magic hit him, picking him up off his feet and causing him to skid down the hall. He groaned, smelling his own skin sizzling. Imre did the first thing he could think of, and threw the knife at the man. Maybe if he'd been pure elf, the knife would have went straight into the Tsiiva's wide, lidless eye. But, his throat was quite good enough.

Piper started panting and made a low moan as the Tsiiva collapsed and gurgled on the floor, dying as a large pool of blood expanded around his head. "Piper?" Imre whispered, crawling over to the other young man's position after he'd recollected the switchblade. He searched for a pulse, and found that it was strong. "You okay?" Relief washed through him. Piper was the only person he had here that he could consider an actual friend.

"Just dandy," he muttered, spitting out a copious amount of blood. "What about you?" He asked, voice slurred just a little. He groaned as Imre started helping him to a standing position.

"I'm fine," he said, slinging Piper's arm around his shoulders. "He didn't try to get into my mind."

"Maybe he couldn't," Piper groaned, his head spinning. He was glad Imre was there to lean on, or else he would have fainted.

"What do you mean? Auriga did it."

"Auriga's a very powerful mage, and telepath. You think he would make his subordinates as powerful as him?" He asked bitterly. "These Tsiiva probably can't get past your elvish blood, and the mental shield it gives you."

"You think he's here?"

"I know he is."

"Come on," Imre whispered. He kept casting quick glances to Piper to see how conscious he was. It didn't take long before he was able to walk on his own, though Imre held his hand, just in case. Though he was walking under his own power, Imre thought Piper looked waxy, and his hand was very sweaty. His dark eyes were alert, but darting around. Imre didn't need to be a mind reader to know what Piper was thinking.

In the Palace chapel, Wezn's arms were being held behind his back by a very tall and broad Gold Knight that he didn't know. He had his eyes closed as Nebula and some Durai army officers slaughtered any elf they caught in their sights. He panted and bit his lip as he heard a male voice begging for his life, cut off with a pained scream, then silence. He kept his pale green eyes closed, waiting for Nebula's sword to dig into his belly and spill his innards at his feet. He thought of Jessamyn, and the night they'd been taken from their home.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of Nebula's boots coming towards him. He could feel her standing before him, but kept his eyes closed and head down. He didn't want to look into her eyes. He didn't want his last vision in life to be her eyes.

"Come along, Reverend. Our Cassiopeia wishes to see you." She was close enough that her breath was washing over his cheek.

Wezn opened is eyes. "You're not going to kill me?" He asked quietly. His voice echoed in the now silent chapel. In his peripheral vision, he could see bodies all over the floor, blood splattered against the murals and pews. He shook his head, letting out his breath bitterly. "She wants me as bait. Again."

Nebula's thin mouth curled up in a smirk, meeting Wezn's gaze. Her smirk started to fade as screaming broke the chilling silence of the chapel. Wezn heard it too, furrowing his brow. There was nobody else alive in here, yet the screams sounded as if they were in the room. Nebula's gaze moved to the side, and her pale face became a colour like sour milk. Wezn dared to look away from Nebula and her sword, and followed her gaze. A large communicard viewing screen had been set up for the White Dawn prayer services. Though Rhianonuit and Deirdre were enemies, the White Dawn was an event that transcended things like that, and the prayer service was still important, no matter that the Cassiopeia was leading it. The screams were coming from the broadcast. Wezn's breath got caught somewhere in his throat as he watched what was transpiring in Mandaran. The three remaining live people in the chapel watched the broadcast in stunned silence, Nebula feeling like the floor had come out from under her feet, and she was about to drop into oblivion.

"My… My L-Lady Nebula…?" The Gold Knight holding Wezn asked, his voice cracking.

Wezn turned his head to look at her, and saw she was like a statue, not even breathing or blinking.

"Lady Nebula?" He asked again.

She took a great shuddering breath, looking back at the two men. "Er… We… we must get back to the Palace," she stammered, losing her usual cold composure. "Take him to the Durai rendezvous point, and I'll set the signal for retreat."

"But… My Lady…" The Gold Knight must have made a gesture to the communicard screen again, because Wezn watched Nebula's grey eyes flick in that direction.

"Now, Halo!" She snapped. "That's an order."

Wezn started struggling, but the Gold Knight called Halo was much bigger, stronger and younger than him, so it was futile. The chaos in Mandaran echoed as Nebula stormed away. As Halo teleported them away from the chapel, Wezn closed his eyes and prayed to Magdalena that Dheneb would go against his nature. That he wouldn't put his life on the line, and come to Wezn's rescue.

"Faster!" Florian cried, gripping Bella's hand tightly as they rounded corners and ducked into hallways, trying to escape the carnage. Florian skidded to a halt as a spell exploded just in front of him, causing bits of the wall to go flying. Bella shouted and ducked as a throwing knife was flung at them from behind. There was a dozen or so Durai army officers behind them, clustered in front of Cygnus.

"Stay behind me," Florian whispered, backing Bella against the wall as he held his blade out. He was a very skilled swordsman, but he was still so out of shape and skinny that he didn't know how long he'd last against this many opponents. He'd always been better than Cygnus, but now? He wasn't so sure.

"C'mon Vega. Stop running like a scared child, and die like a man!" Cygnus taunted.

"A scared child?" Florian echoed. "Who is it that's hiding behind a dozen men, too scared to face me, Alshain?"

Cygnus let out a snort of amusement, but his lips were thin and tight, showing displeasure and hatred. "We just want the woman, Florian."

Fury was pumping through Bella's veins as she looked at Cygnus's angular face. A face that haunted her dreams, and had made her hurt a man who'd done nothing but care for her. The man that was shielding her with his own body now. The man that was willing to die for her. She put her hands on Florian's back, stroking up and down it, and around the waistband of his pants. She knew he had a small dagger hidden somewhere. When she found it, she grabbed the hilt, but didn't pull it out just yet.

"Don't hurt the lady," Cygnus said to his men, looking past them and staring into Bella's dark eyes. "But, you can hurt Sir Vega all you want."

A couple of the officers briefly cast looks to each other before the group advanced. While they were duty-bound to listen to their Queen and superior officer, many in the army still felt loyalty to the much beloved Sir Vega. He'd been the kind of Knight that children's tales would be about in later years. The kind of Knight who was defending his woman against all odds. But, what most of them didn't realize was that Bella was now also armed, and wasn't to be underestimated.

"Ready?" Florian asked under his breath.

"You bet," she answered, tightening her grip on the dagger. "I'm sorry about earlier. I just wanted you know that."

"Water under the bridge," he whispered. "Now!" He commanded to her. She unsheathed his hidden dagger as Florian lunged at the fray coming towards him. His magic was still extremely strong, so he could shield the spells cast from the pair of mages in the front of the cluster. His blade cut into stomachs, and through limbs. He could hear bodies falling behind him at the tip of Bella's dagger. Florian was good, but against a dozen men and Cygnus, the odds were just too great. Cygnus cast an icy spell, and it sent Florian flying. He slammed against the wall, hearing something crack loudly inside him. He slumped to the ground, immediately trying to wrestle to his feet.

"Florian!" Bella cried, seeing a soldier she'd missed advancing on him. She wouldn't be able to make it over there in time, so threw the dagger. Her aim was true, and it got the soldier in the back of the head. She looked in horror as the soldier fell on top of Florian, and he let out a scream. The sword that had been held in the soldier's hand dug into his abdomen. She started to run towards him, but was caught up in the hard metal arms of Cygnus.

"Last man standing gets the girl, Flo." He snickered, using his metal-encased foot to stomp on one of Bella's feet, breaking it. She struggled wildly in his arms, watching as blood pooled around Florian from under the soldier's body.

Florian struggled to get the body off him, the sword coming out of his lower abdomen with a loud sucking sound. He put his hand to the wound, blood seeping out from between his fingers.

"Let go, you pig!" She hissed as he held her tighter.

"I don't think so, honey." Cygnus laughed as he looked at his former Captain, panting and struggling to his feet. He had to use his sword to support his weight, and collapsed again because of the pain.

"It's just you and me again, sweetie," he breathed into Bella's ear, licking the curl of it.

Bella shuddered at his touch, and flung her head backwards. It connected hard with Cygnus's face, and she heard his nose break. Pain shot through her skull as she did it again and again, feeling blood soaking her hair. She used her head to hit him until his grip on her loosened enough that she could escape it. She whirled around to face the man she hated more than she'd ever hated anyone, and saw him gripping his face, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He spit some teeth out onto the bloodstained rug.

"You cunt!" He snuffled, voice slurred from his broken nose. He thrust out his hand to cast a spell on her to subdue her, but Bella grabbed his wrist and flipped him onto his back using a jujitsu throw.

Florian was gasping for air as he used a healing spell to try and stop some of the bleeding. It helped, but very little. He would need more extensive healing from a doctor. He again tried to get to his feet, and only the wall kept him upright. He tried to get to where Bella was attacking Cygnus, but when he took a step, he collapsed again. His blurry vision caught sight of someone at the end of the hall. He had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing things correctly, because it looked like this person had horns. But, it turned out to be a crown. He was standing beside another man who looked much smaller in comparison, since the crown made the already tall man look much larger. He groaned in pain, trying to crawl over. They definitely weren't elves. He saw the mutilated faces, and his blood went cold. He remembered the poor girl who had been killed and cut up in Clathe, and Dheneb and Rhys talking about a man named Auriga. Was this him? Ugly magic rolled from him, but the two of them didn't make a move. They stood very still, watching as Bella straddled Cygnus, and started punching his face with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Cygnus tried to hit her, and even got a few heavy punches in with his metal fists, but those hard blows were just glancing shots compared to her anger and desire to hurt Cygnus as much as he'd hurt her. She wanted him to suffer. She pounded his face again and again, feeling bones breaking under her fists, hearing his wet, squelching cries. He was trying to shout at her, but all he could let out were groans and screams. Teeth clattered out of his mouth. Blood sprayed up onto her arms. His nose exploded like ripe fruit as she thought of him penetrating her. His cheekbones shattered as she thought of him beating her. His jaw broke as she remembered the laughter of his cronies, the sticky wetness of their semen on her face and in her hair. Cygnus's struggles became feeble as she cracked his skull. She dug her thumbs into his eyes as she thought of pushing Florian away, the blood coming from under his hair as he hit his head on the nightstand. She hit and hit him, long after he'd stopped moving, letting her anger and shame come out through her violent fists.

Auriga watched as this woman beat Cygnus to death. Her face matched the picture he'd seen of Bella Poll-Altares. His General beside him moved to go forward, but Auriga held his hand up, stopping him. He cared nothing for Cygnus, and was finding it quite entertaining to watch this beautiful woman's face contort in fury as she killed a man in one of the most animalistic ways possible.

"Alright," Auriga murmured to his General when Cygnus had long since stopped moving. Bella was sitting on Cygnus's armoured chest, panting as all her energy was drained from her. His face was like raw meat, her anger seeping from her. She gasped as she felt strong hands picking her up by the armpits. She started struggling again, but halted when she looked over her shoulder. She screamed when she caught glimpse of the Tsiiva's ruined face.

"I'm quite impressed," Auriga commented, crouching beside Cygnus and looking at what used to be his face. "Such strong, raw fury in a woman is, unfortunately, too rare." He looked up at her, and she was horrified and mesmerized by his lidless black and hazel eyes. He smiled at her, and she shuddered. She cast a glance over to Florian, who was still trying to get up, but looked like he was going to black out any moment.

"I can see why Cygnus was so enthralled with you." Auriga touched where Cygnus's nose used to be, his sharp metal nails picking at the broken cartilage. "He spoke of you often. As does Talia. Though, his comments were more flattering."

"Talia?" Bella snapped, coming to herself. She'd been lulled into a terrified silence by this man.

Auriga's pierced nostrils flared as he breathed in the smell of blood. "Yes," he smiled. "I know her. It's quite a shame what Rastaban did to her, no?" He slowly rose to his feet, a slow smile on his lips. "But, I like her better that way." His smile was cruel, and anything but affectionate.

Bella struggled hard against the Tsiiva's grip. He was having a hard time holding her down, and when he started to penetrate her mind, Auriga said "no. Just enough to subdue her, I think." He was smiling like Yule had come early. His black and hazel eyes slid over to where Florian had finally gotten to his feet. Bella's dark eyes widened in terror, and she shook her head, though she found that she couldn't move, like her body wasn't listening to her brain.

"No?" Auriga asked playfully. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't introduce myself." He gave a jaunty little bow that actually looked very menacing. Bella watched the sharp points of his crown of horns as it brushed past her. "My name is Auriga." He continued to look at her, smiling in great amusement. "You're very pretty, you know."

"You mean compared to Talia?" Bella asked. Her voice was slurred slightly from the mental pressure Auriga's henchman was putting on her. "Anyone would be. Even you."

He laughed, putting a finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. She could feel the coldness of his fingernail digging into her skin. She watched as Auriga's smile faltered for just a moment, his brow furrowing. It was dizzying trying to watch his face.

Auriga could see into the minds of all his remaining Tsiiva warriors, and saw something that made this already pleasant day of warfare get even better. He saw the death of one of his Tsiiva, at the hands of a very familiar face. Those dark, glittering black eyes, showing bold anger. Piper was older since Auriga had seen him last, but he definitely hadn't forgotten the pertinent painter.

"Oh, this is getting even better. Take her to the rendezvous point, and wait for me there."

The General nodded at his master, and teleported away with Bella standing helplessly in his arms. Auriga looked over to Florian, who tried to raise his sword, but dropped it as he fell to his knees again. Blood came from his nose as Auriga poked around in his mind. He smirked and teleported away, more interesting prospects on his horizon.

Imre and Piper rounded a corner, and immediately had to dive for the floor to avoid taking a face full of magic. It smashed off the wall, and rained debris down on them, the small blade clattering from Imre's grip. There was an awful stench wafting through the hall that made both young men want to throw up everything they'd ever eaten. Piper snuck a look as another spell went flying over them. He could feel the heat of it sliding across his back. He saw the shimmering silver of Lady Orchid's hair streaming behind her as she was locked in combat with a woman wearing bright gold armour. She had an auburn bob with thick bangs, and wore a malicious grin as her blade clashed with Orchid's.

Imre also stole a peek, and was horrified to see the state of the redheaded woman's face. This must have been Lady Fomalhaut, the one that Dheneb and Rastaban had spoken of. The one that Rastaban cursed for betraying Dheneb. Imre couldn't help but stare in wonder at Fomalhaut's ruined face, the way the stench of it covered the entire hallway. She was a thing of nightmares, her blue eyes fierce and dripping hatred as they were fixed on Orchid. She was a testament to Rastaban's loyalty to Dheneb. Her face spoke of the price of angering him. What if Dheneb had died from Imre's attempted poisoning? Would Rastaban have done the same thing to him?

The two former friends weren't speaking to each other. Fomalhaut kept casting magic, knowing that she wasn't a match for Orchid in a swordfight. She could only hope to defeat her through magic, or that she would get some backup. She smirked when she saw one of her dear Auriga's men over Orchid's shoulder. He was drawing his blade, looking down at two people laying on the ground. But, she'd let her guard down for just a moment, and it gave Orchid all the time she needed to land a punch against the rotten side of Fomalhaut's face. The Gold Knight reeled backwards, laughing as Orchid was pitched forward by a spell from the Tsiiva, gold dust splaying across the walls, hovering in the air where Orchid had been standing.

Imre rolled out of the way to avoid getting cut in half by the Tsiiva's blade as it was swung down, but it still deeply gashed his side. He screamed from the pain, looking up into the Tsiiva's mutilated face. He had black spots in his vision. He put his hand to the wound, feeling blood pouring out of him. He grit his teeth and tried to cast some healing magic, but had to jump out of the way of another sword stroke. It very nearly missed cutting one of his hands off.

Suddenly, Piper was in Imre's vision, blood coming down his face again. It was dripping from his nose, and trickling from one dark, dark eye. He was standing before the Tsiiva, the switchblade embedded in the side of the Tsiiva's neck. Piper pulled it out, blood squirting from the severed jugular vein. The Tsiiva clawed at the wound, swaying as he looked at Piper with his wide, bulging eyes. Piper looked back, and felt a chill go down his spine. The Tsiiva fell to his knees in front of Piper, then keeled over, blood spraying across the expensive rugs and over Imre's face. Imre put both his hands to the wound, already feeling so weak from the blood loss.

Piper stood over the Tsiiva, still gripping the bloodied switchblade tight in his fist. He heard Imre moan in pain behind him, and turned to see the other young man laying in a pool of blood, his face very pale and sweaty as he tried to cast some magic to staunch the bleeding. "Imre…" He murmured, kneeling beside him. The knees of his pants became immediately soaked through. "It's okay," he soothed, stroking his hand through Imre's sweaty hair. He knew no magic, so had to rely on trying to stop the bleeding through pressure, until a surgeon could do the more precise work that magic couldn't heal properly. He ripped off part of his shirt to make a bandage. As he was tying it around Imre's slender waist, he felt the coolness of a blade tip tap him under the chin. He froze, looking sideways. He could see the legs of a person, wearing what looked like a leather cloak. The blade gently dug into the underside of his chin, forcing his head upwards.

"I thought my eyes were playing tricks," Auriga murmured when his gaze met Piper's. "That a slave of Electra would actually be here." He gave his cold, wolfish smile as Piper loudly exhaled, breath shaking. "I shouldn't have been surprised that it would be you, Piper."

Imre looked up, vision smeary. Though Auriga had controlled his mind, Imre'd never actually seen him before. He was terrible to behold, with his lidless black eyes and his vicious teeth. He wore a crown of bone and horns, looking ever bit the nightmarish King. He then cast a look to Piper's face, and saw the fear in his black eyes. Piper was holding his hand, and squeezing it so hard that it was painful.

The tip of the blade dug deeper into his chin, breaking the flesh. "Stand up," Auriga ordered of his former servant.

Piper stared up, defiant and not moving.

Auriga shook his head in amusement and gave a wry grin. "You still belong to me, Piper. I don't recall freeing you. I said stand up, and maybe I'll let him live." He nodded towards Imre. "Stand up. Now."

Piper found himself rising to his feet, Auriga forcing his unwilling brain to give the commands to his body. He looked over the top of Piper's head, seeing Fomalhaut and Orchid duelling. Fomalhaut was definitely on the losing end of that contest. "Well. Well, well, well… what should I do with you, my love?" Auriga asked, looking back into Piper's eyes, which were glimmering with hatred. Auriga looked to Orchid, and suddenly a blast wave of magic slammed into her chest, her blade mere inches away from slicing Fomalhaut's throat wide open.

Orchid went sailing through the air, and slammed into a decorative pillar, gold dust raining down around her like fireworks. She gasped in pain as the spell ate through her leather breastplate like acid.

"Where's Bella?" Fomalhaut demanded, slowly walking to where Orchid lay, trying to struggle out of her smoking armour.

"We have her, Talia. Though, the situation in Mandaran is… quite unpleasant. There's been a signal for retreat from Nebula."

Fomalhaut looked down at Orchid, arcing her blade to a ready position. Her face was alight with glee, the black and rotten muscles pulling as she smiled. Foul fluid and wet skin dripped to the ground, staining the carpet.

"One down, one to go." She swung her blade down, but Orchid raised her rapier, and hit the sword off target. Her chest ached from Auriga's magic, and she could smell her own skin burning. Orchid suddenly had to close her eyes as her vision went white. Her eyes stung, like she'd tried to look into the sun. She heard Fomalhaut screech, and the sound of her feet stumbling backwards. Auriga had to fling his arm up to protect his lidless eyes from the painful white light. With his telepathy, he could sense the great, fathomless power of a Witch. But, this Witch was unfamiliar to him, a Witch of Magdalena. Because it was the White Dawn, Auriga couldn't get into his mind, human though he may be.

"Talia!" Auriga called in the whiteness. He grabbed Piper around the waist and pulled his struggling body closer to his own. "Talia!" He called again so she could hear him. Magdalena on the White Dawn was a battle Auriga knew he stood no chance in. Once he felt Fomalhaut near to him, he teleported away.

"They're gone," a small female voice said in the white. The light slowly receded like the ebbing of a tide. Orchid and Imre blinked, eyes still stinging from the light, white spots obscuring their vision. "It's okay," the small voice said again.

"Who…?" Answered another voice, raspy and unused sounding.

"Rest," said the small voice again.

"Kiki…?" Orchid asked, recognizing it. She shook her head, raising it to look around. Auriga and Fomalhaut were indeed gone. She moaned as she tried to move. Her chest burned, and she looked down to see the magic had eaten completely through the breastplate. Her pale bosom was red and already blistered.

"Here, don't touch it!" Kikimora insisted gently, crouching beside Orchid. She started undoing the thongs of the armour, peeling it away from Orchid's skin.

Orchid peered past Kikimora as the sprite inspected the wound. She saw the figure of Salius, sitting against the wall. She could only look at him briefly, his skin was so bright. She then saw Imre, laying in a large pool of blood, struggling to heal himself as he tried to maintain consciousness.

"Help him," Orchid said to Kikimora, reaching up and tearing at a curtain. White light shone into hallway as she pulled the window covering down. She started ripping it into strips as Kikimora went over to this young man she didn't know. He had a look about him that she'd never seen before. She could feel him using magic, but he was currently far too weak for it to be effective.

"Here," she whispered. "Let me." She poured magic into his wound, looking into his bright blue eyes. She could tell he was an elf from his features and the pointed ears, but those deep blue eyes were unlike anything she'd seen in Rhianon elves.

"He took Piper," the young man moaned in an accent startlingly foreign to her.

"What?" Orchid looked up as she wrapped the shredded pieces of curtain around her exposed breasts, covering the wound. She did indeed notice that Piper was gone. She got up and went over to Imre, crouching beside Kikimora. "Are you sure? Perhaps he got away."

Imre shook his head, brow furrowed in pain.

"Orchid…?" Kikimora asked tentatively. "Was that… what happened to Talia?" Her voice was full of quiet horror. She'd helped Salius leave the hospital wing when a fire had broken out, and found the castle under siege. He was disoriented, yet seemed clear of mind, and could actually see under the power of the White Dawn. Before Salius had filled the corridor with the light burning under his skin, she'd seen a brief flash of Talia's disgusting face.

"Not now," Orchid murmured. "Salius?"

"He's lucid," she whispered. She watched as this young man struggled to a sitting position. His beautiful elvish features were wan and dripping with sweat. Kikimora was full of questions, but the next one she asked was "where's Dheneb?"

"Trying to stop Deirdre. Did something happen in Mandaran?" Orchid asked, panic rising in her, thoughts going to Rastaban.

"The White Dawn ceremony…" Kikimora shook her head. "Never mind," she suddenly said briskly. "You and this young man need attention right now. We can talk about it later."

"Imre," he panted, clutching his side as Orchid slowly helped him to his feet. When standing, Kikimora could see that his body was strangely sturdy for an elf, particularly compared to the willowy frame of Orchid. "My name's Imre."

"Kikimora," she replied, still at a loss to where he could have come from. "I think I missed more than I realized."

In Mandaran, the sky shone in pure white light as Deirdre bowed her head, leading the prayer. There were nearly a thousand people here, showing their love for Magdalena, and their support for their Immortal Beauty. They were all dressed in pure white, as was tradition for the White Dawn. She smiled into her hands as she started to pray, thinking of Nebula marching on the Rhianonuit Palace right this instant. She was up on a beautifully decorated dais with Aleksandr and Rigel, only the scantest of personal guards with her, down below the dais, watching the crowd. The Mandaran Temple's Reverend knelt beside her, as well as the mayor and other dignitaries.

"Ashithaii di Thaassticsh, Magdalena. Oiffi de sooth wesith, Magdalena. Usiiashaa ai stiva oothipa, Magdalena." Her voice carried, confident and strong, across the crowd. They all murmured 'Magdalena' after she did.

"Biiana ava Ditha os niishara, Magdalena. Isha….isha… isha…" She fought down a tremor within her body, and willed with all her power to hold her glamour intact. She'd just lost connection with another Spire. So, Dheneb had done exactly as she'd thought he would. But, she would have the last laugh.

Aleksandr looked up from his clasped hands, and made the smallest of moves to go to his wife, but held his position when she continued.

"Isha Sishtarsha aiva viishau uu Thaassticsh, Magdalena. Diistsch ivaa…"

"Diistsch ivaa Nousna!" A voice shouted over her own prayers. "Iva stii ai Uvahshin, Magdalena!"

Cold curled in her, like a hand reaching down her throat. The cold hand of a Witch's power. She looked up as the voice continued to read the prayer, and saw among the crowd in their traditional white garments, a figure all in black. His cloak billowed behind him with each step, a cloak of doom and night. She opened her mouth, but found that her breath was stuck somewhere around her diaphragm. The cool power of Xarastar beat down on her with each step that he took towards her. "Rastaban," she whispered. Rastaban, ascended to Xarastar. Why hadn't she known?! Why hadn't her spy told her?!

"Hello, My Queen," Rastaban greeted coldly, speaking in Witch language, that he very well knew she could understand. "My Cassiopeia. My Lady Envanya."

The revellers rose, backing away from him when he neared them. It was like a sea of white fabric parting for him as he walked towards the dais. Deirdre's guards rushed him, and cast magic in his direction, but Rastaban had been memorizing some very helpful shield spells. He let out a wave of deathly magic, what he'd always thought of as his sorrowcurse, and the guards toppled backwards, dead. He'd always thought of these feelings as a true curse, as some sort of sickness, but now it felt like home. It was natural magic to him. It was who he was. Even though he knew that these deaths were inevitable and unavoidable, he still mourned them. As Xarastar, he had a new, startling appreciation for life.

Deirdre was stuck in place. She felt like a statue, unable to move as she felt the coolness of death closing in on her. Another tremor went through her body as Dheneb did his work, Rastaban here to buy him time.

"It seems that Xarastar has come to stop Rahva after all," Rastaban shouted over the growing panic of the crowd. He kept speaking in Witch language. As he got nearer to the dais, he felt sickness in him. Not because of anything Deirdre was doing, but because of her unnatural long life. She was pollution. She was wrong. And, Aleksandr more so. Dheneb said that he'd probably kept Florian alive by the same means that Deirdre was using to keep her husband alive, and that's why nobody had been able to kill Florian. But, that wasn't completely true. Somebody could have killed Florian. Rastaban could have. He would have felt the life force connecting Dheneb to his childhood friend. He would have felt it like an invisible umbilical cord. Just like he was feeling it now between Deirdre and Aleksandr. Who was she to defy life and death like this? No Witch ever had that right. Not even him. Not even Xarastar herself.

And, what do you think you can accomplish by coming here? Deirdre asked into his mind, rising from her knees. A small smirk had begun to grow on her lips, but it vanished when she tried to get in his mind further. She could hear hundreds of voices whispering at once, a cacophony of cold thought. She didn't realize that she was also hearing the thoughts of the mourningstones in his armour.

"You're a perversion of life," he shouted in Durai tongue, voice echoing across the crowd. He pointed his sword at her. "Unnatural long life…" His sword kept pointing at her as she grinned. He was no match for her magically. She could feel it. When the tip of Rastaban's sword swung away from her, and went to Aleksandr, the smile became frozen on her face. He then swung the blade upwards, cutting through the air. But, she felt a chill pass across her skin. The rune on her flesh that matched her connection spell to her husband felt so cold it was burning her. She opened her mouth in a horrified scream as she felt the line between them dissolve and vanish.

Aleksandr's grey eyes looked at his wife in horror. He would have opened his mouth to scream, but his body was already pitching forward and turning to dust. He reached out for her, and when he hit the dais, his body became a particle cloud, dust hanging in the air in front of her. She could distantly hear people screaming in renewed horror, and hear Rigel crying. But, it was all miles away. She watched as the dust floated before her eyes, vision swimming with tears. She could feel it brushing her cheek and lips, settling in the fabric of her voluminous white silk skirts. Her hands balled into fists as a new kind of pain scorched her heart. Aleksandr had been with her all this time, for 1500 years, and now he was nothing but dust, dissipating into the air.

Deirdre threw head back, looking up at the White Dawn with her tears falling freely down her cheeks. Agony burst forth from her, her scream echoing across the Temple's courtyard. The winds howled and swirled beyond the elvish glass, funnelling into a dark and wide tornado, beating down on the ceiling so hard that it felt like an earthquake. Lightning rolled over the dome like it was water, without and within. Deirdre's anguish poured from her body in racking sobs, and in waves of Envanya's magic. Wind picked up her hair and skirts, billowing the dust that had once been her husband, swirling it around her. She watched it slide across her arms, and opened her hands so what was left of him could twine with her fingers in the growing wind. She couldn't hide the lightning that was now coursing under her flesh, that was now sliding around her fingers like ribbons. She bowed her head and looked at Rastaban, her glamour dropping. Wind whipped across the crowd, so strong that it stung any exposed skin. Lightning crackled from her, and exploded like fireworks, her eyes sparking with fury. Lightning rolled up to the glass ceiling, moving like water.

She let out a scream again, a fork of lightning coming down and striking Rastaban where he stood. The wind blew so hard around her that it levitated her, and the massive cyclone outside hammered the elvish glass. Building shook, and people lost their footing. A great cracking could be heard as a hairline fracture snaked across the glass, the thunder booming and echoing. She watched in agonized satisfaction as the lightning sparked around the blackness of his armour, as acrid black smoke billowed forth. She felt him trying to fight it, but a second slash of white hot lighting shot down with a whip-like crack, and struck him down. Rastaban collapsed in a heap, smoke trickling out from the seams of his armour. He twitched like a fish out of water, and she panted through clenched teeth.

"I should keep you alive," she hissed in Witch tongue, all pretence falling away to her fury. "So you can be ripped apart just as you've done to me. I should take Dheneb away from you. Again!" Her voice shook badly, and her hands were so tightly clenched into fists that her nails broke the skin, blood trickling from between her fingers, and down her wrists. "I should let your heart break in half!"

But, you've ALREADY made me feel that, Rastaban's voice said into her head. His body was too badly burned and ravaged to be able to speak. He could feel his magic desperately trying to keep his body alive. He couldn't even feel any pain, which he didn't take as a good sign. And, what has your anger accomplished? You've revealed yourself as a Witch in front of a thousand subjects, in front of a live Communicard broadcast to the whole of Durai, and for what? To kill me? To turn me into a blackened, melted wretch?

She panted, the dust of Aleksandr still swirling around her.

"Shut UP!" Deirdre screamed in Witch tongue. Her voice was like the howling wind, like crackling lightning. Her skin pulsed bright with her wrath. Another fork of lightning crashed down upon Rastaban's body, burning his flesh under his armour, stopping his heart. She screamed, stumbling as she felt the loss of connection with yet another Spire. She crumpled to her knees, heart beating erratically. She felt like a limb had been amputated. There were so few Spires left that the loss of even one was weakening her considerably. When she looked up, across the panicked crowd, she saw faces staring up at her in horror. She saw the wave of white clothing. And, she saw that Rastaban had vanished.

Her heart burned with each beat. Her body was trying to die, now that she only had two Spires helping her stay alive. She heard Rigel's cries, seeming to get louder in her consciousness. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter, knowing that Dheneb would be coming to destroy the last Spire, the one in the Palace. He'd be coming to take Rigel back to Bella and Vega. He would take everything she had left. The angry screams of the crowd were dull noise, like the buzzing of insects. She reached out for Rigel, and gently collected the child in her arms.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered into Rigel's soft, dark brown hair. Rigel's tiny fists gripped the bodice of her white gown, her own pretty white dress flecked with the ash of Aleksandr's body. "I won't let anyone take you," she murmured. "I'll kill everyone if I have to, just to keep you with me." She hugged Rigel tighter, teleporting away from the screaming crowd.