Nebula stared up into the swirling clouds, churning into a massive hurricane that threatened to engulf all of Durai. The lightning crackled, and shuddered the elvish glass. They were standing in a broken-down foyer within Sku'lava Gallows, the blackened skies visible through the crumbled ceiling, the icy wind rippling down. The returning soldiers who'd even agreed to step foot here looked very unhappy at the prospect of being in Fomalhaut's stronghold. There were so few returning from the battle in Rhianonuit. It had not been a victory.

"Lady Nebula?"

Halo looked at his Captain with concern. She was still staring up through the crumbled dome, oblivious to everyone staring at her. He was holding Wezn in front of him, his metal-covered hands encircling the older man's wrists. He had a magic dampening collar around his neck, a mirror of the one Fomalhaut had put on Dheneb. Yet, he didn't struggle. Frankly, Wezn didn't see the point. And, he was quite paralysed with terror. Sku'lava Gallows was the last place on earth he really wanted to be. He let his pale green eyes sweep his fellow captors. Piper was as still as well, but a muscle in his jaw was twitching rapidly as Auriga's hands stroked his shoulders, like he was petting a much beloved family pet. Bella, however, was anything but frozen. It was taking Fomalhaut and another Gold Knight that Wezn didn't recognize to hold the woman back. Her hands and arms were coated with drying blood.

Bella screamed angrily and slouched in their arms when Fomalhaut whacked her across the back of the head with her hard gold gauntlet.

"She's supposed to be unharmed!" The Gold Knight called Enceladus exclaimed as he pulled Bella up by her arm.

"Unharmed…" Bella echoed with a bitter, bitter laugh. "What a joke."

"You're the joke!" Fomalhaut hissed.

Bella jerked her arms, and Enceladus was barely able to hold her back from attacking her former friend. "Madam, please!" Enceladus urged. He was well aware that this was the woman Sir Vega shared a child with, and didn't want to harm her.

It was this noise that brought Nebula back to herself. She turned and looked over her shoulder, contemplating the blank spots in her memory. The doing of her beloved Queen. The Cassiopeia that she'd sworn a life oath to protect.

"What shall we do, Captain?"

Nebula looked at Halo, and struggled to find an emotional calm. "She is still our Queen," she whispered, though her voice echoed in the dome.

There were some murmurings from the soldiers clustered together.

"She is still our Queen," Nebula repeated, more to herself. "Isn't she?"

"No!" One soldier shouted. "She's a liar! She's a Witch! She told us that Witches were evil and we should destroy them, but she's one too!" She looked around to her fellows. "The Knights of Ahlixar were right!"

"Don't you dare mention them here!" Fomalhaut hissed. She hit Bella hard across the cheek with her armoured elbow, then tore off towards the speaking woman. "I'll curse your tongue out of your head!"

"Stop!" Halo commanded, blocking Fomalhaut with magic. She snarled and slunk back, now pacing back and forth in front of Bella, who'd started struggling again. This time, Auriga's Tsiiva general grabbed her arms from behind. This made her cease, and stiffen considerably as his exposed teeth and warm breath brushed past the side of her neck.

"You're being quiet," Halo said to Auriga, voice laced with contempt and suspicion.

"Because this doesn't concern me. I did not take a life oath to protect a Queen who had been lying to me my entire life. I can only imagine the emotional turmoil," he said silkily.

His words had the effect he wanted. The soldiers seemed uneasy, and looked to the female officer who'd spoken out moments before. Nebula looked more lost than ever, and Halo looked away from him. He still kept his hands on Piper's shoulders, nails digging into the young man's skin.

"I will not support a ruler who's lied to her subjects for hundreds of years!" The female officer shouted, brown eyes blazing. "Sir Vega knew the truth!"

"All Witches should die!" Another officer hissed. "This is what they can do. Vega and the Knights just want to replace one Witch tyrant with another. He'd trade a world of cold wind for a one of molten fire!"

The two officers began shouting at each other, supporters for both of them getting into the fray. Soon, fingers were being poked into chests, and unpleasant words were being exchanged.

"From quiet confusion to chaos in less than a minute," Piper murmured. There was so much noise from the soldiers that only Auriga could hear him. "You must be so proud."

"I'm glad your sharp tongue hasn't dulled with age, my darling."

Piper stared straight ahead and tried to keep his mind blank. He could see Fomalhaut shooting him looks, her pale eyes looking angry and demented.

"ENOUGH!" Nebula shouted, so loudly that it drowned out the shouting match between the remaining soldiers. The word echoed repeatedly. "The Cassiopeia is still ruler of Durai."

The female officer glared at Nebula. "I didn't swear a life oath to her. I don't give loyalty to liars." She stormed up the stairs, the great stone hewn gates parting as she stalked out into the bitterly icy winds and teleported away. Many other soldiers murmured in agreement and also made towards the doors. Those who couldn't teleport on their own clustered around those who could. The hurricane-like winds bellowed through the Gallows, making it even more frigid.

"Those who want to protect Durai, come back to the barracks." Nebula turned to face Halo. The stern coldness was back in her grey eyes, but her expression was still drawn, her skin clammy. "We'll keep the prisoners here for now. You stay here to make sure nothing happens to them." Nebula gave Fomalhaut a pointed look. "Do I have to repeat myself?" She asked to the half-ruined woman. "Unharmed, Talia. Unharmed!" She yelled when Fomalhaut opened her mouth to protest.

"She killed Cygnus. She deserves to die in the most painful ways possible!" The redheaded Knight exclaimed, unable to hold her tongue.

"You don't care about if he died," Nebula hissed. "So, don't hide behind some pathetic pretence."

Fomalhaut's lip curled, a chunk of wet and rotten skin rolling down her cheek, splattering against her golden breastplate. Bella breathed out as her stomach lurched, and Piper had to close his eyes.

"I will go to the Palace, and speak with the Cassiopeia. I will come back when I know our further plans. What of you?" She asked harshly of Auriga, only briefly looking into his eyes.

"I think I will stay here," he answered, with a completely jovial and calm air. "My warriors will make sure your prisoners stay where they are."

"They are not your prisoners, so stay away from them." She stalked up the large, crumbling staircase.

"All right," Halo commanded, gesturing to Enceladus. "You help bring her down, and we'll go back to the Palace with Nebula. This way, Reverend." Halo started frog-marching Wezn deeper into Sku'lava, where the temperature got warmer, but didn't bring a sense of comfort. It smelled of old blood and burnt flesh. As they passed cells, Wezn kept his eyes straight ahead. Out of the corner of his vision, he could see things that he knew if he looked at directly, it would break something in him.

"Dear gods," Bella breathed. She'd looked into the cells with morbid curiosity, and was shocked deep to the core. She'd known Talia had gone irreversibly mad, but these tortured people were beyond any madness that Bella could comprehend. She heard Piper let out a small gasp behind her as they both looked into the cell with the turning spit, where a fresh body had been put just before the attack on Rhianonuit. "Talia, what have you done?"

"The same thing I could do to you," she muttered, unlocking an empty cell. The cot within was brown with old bloodstains, and had the smell of death about it. Talia stood by the open door with a big, evil, shit-eating grin on her face. "God, I'd love to hurt you. I'd love to ruin that perfect face of yours. So you'd know what it's like to be me."

"I guess you shouldn't have made Rastaban angry," Bella said, voice full of mock-sweetness.

"Don't ever say his name to me!" Talia roared, lunging for the other woman. "You always looked down on me, you and Orchid! Like you were so much fucking better than me!" Talia's fingers wound around Bella's throat. Halo and Enceladus were trying to prise her away, grunting and panting because Fomalhaut was filled with such manic strength. "Did you feel so high and mighty when Cygnus was ploughing you?! Huh?! Do you feel like you're so fucking perfect now that virtuous Vega probably won't touch you with a twenty foot pole?"

"SHUT UP!" Bella screamed, shoulder-checking Fomalhaut into the wall. Her anger was masking her terror. Florian had been hurt so badly when she'd last seen him. What if he was dead? He would never get to meet his own daughter. And, one of her last moments with him would have been shoving him away so hard that she'd caused him injury.

"You're the dirty whore now!" Talia started to draw her blade, but was finally subdued by her fellow Gold Knights.

"Stop it!" Halo commanded. "You want to make the Cassiopeia mad at you? Especially now?!" He and Enceladus dragged Fomalhaut out of the cell, and blocked her from getting back in.

"This won't solve anything," Wezn told Bella quietly, standing between her and the bars, where Fomalhaut was still swearing and raging, trying to get past the other men.

"Let's just get out of here," Enceladus muttered to Halo. "Okay, you there." He reached for Piper. "Get in there so we can shut it up."

"No." Auriga slapped the Knight's hand away, and glared him down. It was such a quick gesture that it shocked all the Gold Knights, including Fomalhaut. The force behind that one 'no' was more than she'd heard him ever use. "He stays with me."

"He was with the elves, and that Witch of Faire-Ahlixar, so…" Halo began.

"He is a slave that belongs to me. So, if you want to take my property by force, I would really enjoy it." Auriga's voice was silky and warm, which Piper knew meant he was even more dangerous.

Halo only looked into Auriga's eyes for only a moment, and then backed down. He shut Wezn and Bella in the cell, locking the door. "Fine. Come on." He nodded towards the stairs, he and Enceladus leaving as quickly as they could. The heavy metallic clunk of their footsteps echoed, and then vanished.

"Stay here," Auriga commanded to his General and another Tsiiva. "Keep an eye on the woman. She's a feisty one."

They nodded, and took guard in front of the cell. Piper tried to get out from under Auriga's hands, but the other man got his upper arm in an iron grip, and turned Piper so they were facing each other. "Oh, Piper." Auriga let out a long sigh like he was dealing with a naughty puppy. "Leaving Electra without your master's permission." He made a tsk-ing noise and shook his head. "Come along." He started dragging Piper away, who stumbled as he tried to wrench his arm from Auriga's hand. He turned and looked over his shoulder at Bella and Wezn as he was pulled into a side room, and vanished from sight.

Bella, still blocked from the bars by Wezn, watched Fomalhaut. She was still panting heavily from her built-up anger. The good side of her former friend's face was visible, and she was looking towards the door Auriga and Piper had gone through. Bella still knew Talia well enough to know that she looked troubled. Jealous.

"Looks like he's got a new plaything," Bella hissed, pushing past Dheneb's father, bloodied hands wrapping around the iron bars. "Too bad."

Fomalhaut whirled on the spot, and also lunged for the bars, reaching through them to throttle Bella. "Come on, you traitor!" Bella shouted. Wezn tried to pull her away. "You coward!!"

"Shut up, you whore!" Fomalhaut lunged again, but the Tsiiva General put his arm up, his round, exposed eyes following her every move. She hissed in displeasure, and stepped back. She sneered as her gaze met Wezn's. His fine face that was so like his son's. Even the expression on that maddening visage was like Dheneb's. The disgust and anger, yes. But, it was mingled with a touch of pity. She lunged again, but this time instead of trying to attack Bella, she grabbed Wezn's arm and brought him to the bars. His shoulder slammed loudly into the iron. "You dare pity me?" She whispered, her mint-covered breath hot against his face. "You should have drowned Dheneb at birth, when you had the chance. Then, maybe you wouldn't be in this sorry situation. Maybe your wife wouldn't be dead, eh?"

"I don't need advice from you," Wezn answered back, voice surprisingly calm.

She leaned closer to him. His stomach was churning from the stench of her. For that remark, she spit in his face. As the spittle trickled down his cheek and chin, it hit him that this woman had killed his wife. She'd murdered Jessamyn in the cruellest way possible. And, she'd betrayed Dheneb while pretending to be his friend. She'd given him up to Deirdre to have two years of his life stolen from him. Before he knew what he was doing, Wezn's fist connected with the rotten side of Fomalhaut's face. He could feel wet things exploding under the contact, across his knuckles. The Tsiiva Auriga had left to guard the cell thrust Fomalhaut back with telepathic magic. She stumbled away from the bars, blood trickling from her nostrils. She angrily let out her breath, and stalked away.

"Here, sit." Wezn gestured to the dirty, smelly cot. "You should rest," he suggested when he saw her rubbing her belly.

"I don't think I want to sit on it," she muttered, leaning against the wall. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. What about you?" She asked, watching him wipe the spit off his face with his sleeve.

"This kind of thing is starting to become too commonplace for me."

Bella couldn't help but smirk. "Bet it felt good to deck her. Right, Reverend?"

He didn't reply, but the answer was a resounding 'yes'. Bella slunk to the floor, sitting on one of the few relatively clean spots. Wezn did the same, and they sat in silence, screaming heard in the distance from other cells. Bella was picking dried flecks of blood off her knuckles, her face drawn and pale. She would occasionally touch her belly, her eyes looking glassy and wet. Wezn's hand went up, and he started worrying the small silver prayer medallion on a thin chain around his throat. The profile of Magdalena was etched into it.

"Are you thinking about your daughter?" Wezn asked after a while. He just couldn't handle the screams and the wind being the only noises. "Rigel?"

Bella looked up, and after a beat, nodded. "And, Florian."

"Vega, you mean?"

"Yes. He was really hurt…" She trailed off sadly. "What if he's dead? He would have never gotten to meet her." She put her chin on her knees. "Did you ask me because you're worried about your own child?"

"Why would I be worried?"

"Because he's your son?" Bella scoffed coldly.

"He can take care of himself, in case you haven't noticed." He frowned, and looked exactly like Dheneb as he did it.

"Yeah, he can. But, so can Deirdre. You do realize he could die, right? That he probably will die?"

Wezn looked away from her blazing dark eyes, staring at the backs of Auriga's guards.

Bella shook her head. "If Rigel turned out to be the kind of person Dheneb is, I'd be very proud," she said with an undertone of accusation..

"Even if she was being raised by another woman?"

"Even if," was the stiff reply.

They fell into another silence, where Bella imagined Rigel growing into a woman, never knowing that her real mother existed. And, this baby inside her would be standing beside Rigel and Deirdre. A younger brother or sister, ripped from Bella's womb too. Though Cygnus was the father, this was still her child, and when she pictured raising the baby, she pictured Florian doing it with her. She looked across to Wezn, and saw his very handsome face looked equally as troubled, staring at some point on the wall over her head. Maybe he really was concerned about Dheneb, despite his evident coldness towards his only child. Was he thinking that Dheneb was the only family he had now? Was he thinking of his dead wife?

She suddenly thought of how hard this must have been for him. She could accuse him now, but even two years ago, what would she have done if she'd given birth to a Natural Mage, to a Witch? Creatures that they were taught to hate and fear. With that belief system, he must have felt intense fear and guilt for bringing such a person into the world, even if Dheneb was his own flesh and blood. And, he was a Reverend. He was taught to preach those ideals. And, all the sudden all of this was turned upside down. She wanted to ask him all this and was very curious, but did not speak, not even to break the silence and the distant screams.

Dheneb ran panting up the hallway, dark bloodstains blotching the rugs, though the bodies had been moved. His cheeks were raw and wind burned, even from his quick exposure. The Tower guards in the DeLoor Plains Spire had been watching the communicard broadcast of the Mandaran prayer service, so Dheneb had witnessed the whole ugly scene. The only remaining Spire was within the Durai Palace. Dheneb knew Deirdre was back there, but he couldn't face her yet. Not when Rastaban could possibly be dead. He kept trying to use the magical burn to find him, but he couldn't get a feeling for it. He'd seen Rastaban teleport away from the scene, but had he gotten as far as Rhianonuit under such great injuries?

"Rhys?" Dheneb called, peeking into rooms as he ran towards the one they shared. There was a smell in the room like burning meat and metal, and Dheneb saw wispy smoke rising from the floor beyond the bed. He came to the spot, crouching down where Rastaban lay on the floor. Heat and smoke rose from his armour, his body twitching. Alive.

"Rhys?" Dheneb asked quietly, crouching. He reached out to touch the armour, but had to snatch his hand away because the metal was searing hot. He could feel Rastaban's cold energy roiling off him, working hard to heal what must have been horrific injuries, hidden under the black steel. He started to undo the tongs that held the armour's pieces together, but stopped. The magic energy coming from his lover was much stronger than normal. Maybe the spirit energy in the mourningstones was helping his regenerative process along, and removing the armour would slow it. He looked at the red stones against the black armour. They were boiling like a pot of hot water under their hard surface.

"Dheneb!" Maya's small voice exclaimed from the doorway. She was doubled over with her hands on her knees, panting heavily. "You… run too… fast!" She then ran across the room and flung herself against Dheneb's back, hugging his ribs tightly. "I've been hiding… hoping you'd come back!" She gasped amidst her heavy breathing when she saw Rastaban laying on the floor. "Oh, no!" She put her tiny hands to her mouth, peering down at the black armour over Dheneb's shoulder. "Is Sir Rastaban okay?"

"I think so."

"I can get a healer or doctor, but they're all kind of busy right now with all the dead people."

"No doctor can heal this." Dheneb's knees and legs were getting sore, so he lowered himself to a full sitting position. "He has to do it himself. He can heal on his own."

"Oh," was Maya's simple reply. Most people would have wanted to know more, but she was satisfied with Dheneb's answer.

"Is it bad?" Dheneb asked quietly.

"Is what bad?" Maya asked. She sat down too, hugging her knees to her chest.

"All the dead people."

Maya nodded firmly. "The army came, and killed lots of elves. I hid, because I know I'm not a good fighter or magic person. I stayed with some of the children." She looked over at Rastaban, who'd just given a violent spasm, his armour scraping against the floor. "He was hurt by the Queen, right?"

Dheneb nodded.

"He did it for you," she murmured serenely. "Because he loves you. Right?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Maya, could you leave me alone with him for a little while, please?"

"Sure!" She exclaimed, popping up to her feet. "I'm gonna go check on everyone."

Dheneb was left alone in the quiet with the Rastaban, who was still occasionally twitching. Orchid had come in to check on him, and fill him in on the horrors that had transpired in his short absence. It seemed like the world had imploded on itself within the span of an hour. She said that Bella, Wezn and Piper had been taken by the combined force of the Tsiiva and the Durai army. There was good news in the aftermath, though. Leven had teleported to Abugior with an elvish mage to try and speak with the Durai riikarra and persuade them to fight. The army had retreated when the truth about Deirdre came out in the communicard broadcast. The Durai army had lost more lives than the Rhianon side, and Cygnus was dead. Not to mention that Salius had shown lucidity, and a conscious use of his power. Orchid's forehead and cheeks had the pinkish quality of a sunburn from being exposed to his light.

"Did you hear all that, Rhys?" Dheneb asked his lover quietly, leaning his back against the side of the bed. "Even in all this bad, there's some good news. Even though the elves were outnumbered five to one, they still persevered. I guess you did the same." Dheneb pulled his fingers through his hair, sighing heavily. He bowed his back and buried his face in his hands, feeling overwhelmed. Thinking of what he could look like under there. Thinking about Bella and Piper. Thinking about his father.

Dheneb turned his head, cheek still resting against his knees. "You wanna hear something stupid?" He asked. "I keep thinking about what my life might be like if I actually kill Deirdre, and I keep thinking about us, living some stupid happily ever after fairytale. But, I also think a lot about my dad. Even though I know he still despises me. I want what you had with your father." He smirked at his own naivety. "But… I'm more worried about Piper than I am him or Bella. Goddess knows Bella can take care of herself. Just ask Cygnus. I don't even know what Auriga would want with Piper. To Auriga, he would have been just a slave. What do you think?"

Of course, Rastaban didn't answer.

"I don't even know if you have a mouth under there right now." He watched Rastaban sporadically twitch, like he was still being jolted with energy, and found himself nodding off. He would wake with a start when Rastaban's arm or knee scraped against the floor, his back starting to hurt from being hunched over. He noticed the press of magic in the air ebbing away slightly. He straightened up, his breath catching in his throat, his heart sinking somewhere into his intestines.

His breath came out, slow and strangled, when Rastaban slowly moved his arm, as if reaching out for something. His movements, while feeble, seemed to be under his own power. The power dip he'd felt must have been from the mourningstones. They weren't boiling anymore, and just looked like opaque stones. Dheneb reached out and held his hand over the armour before slowly touching it. It felt warm, but didn't burn to the touch. Rastaban slowly moved his arm again, reaching for Dheneb. He wrapped his hands around the black metal, feeling Rastaban's magic like a strong pulse. He couldn't feel the strange power of the mourningstones trying to help Rastaban stay alive, so Dheneb started to use his telekinesis to undo the thongs that held the pieces of Rastaban's armour together.

As the pieces fell away, Dheneb steeled himself for the worst. He closed his eyes sadly when he caught a glimpse of charred black and wet red. His muscles were exposed under bits of burnt flesh. Oddly enough though, he didn't smell badly when he really should have, given his appearance. He pursed his lips as he opened his eyes and looked into Rastaban's face as the helmet fell away. His facial features had been mostly burned away, his eyes lidless and white with cataracts from the heat of the lightning. He felt tears stinging his eyes as he used his telekinesis to lift Rastaban off the floor, and deposit him on the bed. He briefly looked to the window, gasping in surprise at a particularly loud clap of thunder. He could feel it vibrating through the floor, and heard the elvish glass shudder. The angry black clouds were spinning rapidly, blotting out the White Dawn.

The tear that had started to trickle down his cheek was forgotten when he looked back at the bed. Even looking away for those few brief moments seemed to have brought a difference in Rastaban's appearance. The muscles looked more formed, harder. Dheneb wondered if Rastaban was in any pain, and wished that he could do something to help, though he knew he couldn't. It was all up to Rastaban, and Dheneb had to focus his magical energies on the pressing task at hand: killing Deirdre. Dheneb collected a few books he'd been reading non-stop, even in Pleiades, flipping one old text open to a page he'd dog-eared, showing complex diagrams of the human brain. He left Rastaban to rest and heal, and found and empty bedchamber next door. He studied the texts for a while, his mind occasionally wandering to Rastaban. Even with his worries about his lover, and if he could actually kill a 1500 year old Witch, it wasn't hard to fall into a deep slumber, his body magically exhausted from destroying the last of the Wind Spires.

"This is new," Auriga commented, grabbing Piper's upper arm and pulling him very close. His long, metal fingernail traced down the long, dark scar bisecting the side of Piper's face. It was actually a rather gentle gesture. He rummaged around in his former slave's mind to find the cause of such a scar. A thin trickle of dark blood dripped from one of Piper's nostrils as he glared daggers at Auriga. He leaned in as he was invading Piper's mind, and did something that Piper found strange, even for his former master. Auriga was smelling him, breathing in the scent of his skin and hair with an almost obscene relish.

"Ah, I see." He bared his teeth in a leering smile after he'd pulled away. "Painted a realistic picture of Aegisthus, eh? All cross-eyed and hunchbacked?"

Fomalhaut had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her glare nearly burning holes in Piper and Auriga's clothing. Auriga had been staring at this young man so intently that he hadn't even noticed she'd come in the room.

"I would congratulate my brother for actually doing something right, if I hadn't already killed him," Auriga murmured. "It really adds to your sex appeal."

"What about your girlfriend?" Piper spat, rearing his head away from Auriga's touch.

"My what?" He looked around, and saw Fomalhaut standing there, practically shaking with rage. "Girlfriend is such an inappropriate word, Piper. She is my dear love, my partner, my equal, the missing half of me."

Fomalhaut pursed her lips, looking mollified as her good cheek filled with colour.

You care that I might hurt her? Auriga grinned, eyes moving up and down over Piper's body. He'd done six years worth of growing since Auriga had seen him last. He'd become tall and broad of shoulder and chest, his white shirt clinging to the ropy muscles of his biceps and pectorals, shaped by carrying around heavy luggage for Auriga's mother. But, he still had that exotic, rare bronze skin and the glittering black eyes that Auriga remembered, eyes so full of honest anger and venom.

You could both drop dead for all I care, was Piper's scathing mental reply.

Auriga threw his head back and laughed, and then patted Piper's cheek a couple of times, hard enough to border on a slap. "I don't think anyone could break that smart mouth of yours."

Fomalhaut watched the exchange, the way they'd been staring at each other, as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. Though there was tension between them, and hatred on the slave's side, Fomalhaut got the sense of familiarity, and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way Auriga barely looked at her now that this servant was in the room. It's not even like he was especially attractive. "He travelled with Dheneb," Fomalhaut hissed, coming towards the pair of them. Her voice was loud, wanting to draw attention back to herself. Wanting to draw his attention back. "He may know what the Witch is planning."

"Oh, I don't know," Auriga replied, eyes boring into Piper like drills. "I think Dheneb is much smarter than that. He probably hasn't even told Rastaban what he's planning."

At the mention of Rastaban's name, Talia made an inhuman hissing noise and her lips curled away from her rotting teeth. It caused Piper to recoil in disgust.

"Just kill me and get it over with," Piper muttered, trying not to look at Fomalhaut's disgusting face.

Auriga leaned in and placed his hand on Piper's hip, nails digging into his skin. "Now, why would I go and ruin my fun by doing that? I'm sure the slave catchers would have loved to get their hands on you, and take a pound of your flesh. I guess I'm the lucky one now."

Fomalhaut's breathing was getting heavier as her rage grew. She hated how close they were standing.

"Now," Auriga murmured pleasantly, standing to full height. "Sit."

Piper just glared at him.

"I said… sit down."

Piper found himself sitting down in the nearest chair, against his will.

"Did you know that my dear Piper is quite the artist?" Auriga asked, lidless eyes casting sidelong to Fomalhaut.

"That's spectacular," she snapped.

"I think he could paint a stunning portrait of you. Or, both of us. I know I had a lovely experience when he last painted my portrait."

Piper stared straight ahead, insides boiling. He wanted to get up and run away, but his mind was addled by Auriga's presence. He could hear screaming in the background.

"Oh, now he's thinking of running away," Auriga said conversationally. Though his words were directed at Fomalhaut, he was barely aware of her. "Thinking that maybe Dheneb or Rastaban will come to help him. But, my love, they have their hands full, and you forget that you're an Electra slave, and therefore, my property." He sat in the chair across from Piper, draping his arm across the back of it and crossing his legs elegantly. He just stared at Piper with a pleasant smile on his scarred mouth, enjoying the young man's disgust and fury, not even noticing when Fomalhaut stormed out of the room.

"Have you ever wondered what I made you forget?" Auriga asked after a while.

Piper jerked at the sound of his captor's voice. They'd been sitting in silence for so long that the sudden noise was jarring. He'd been thinking of Imre and his bad injuries and all the blood, and trying not to at the same time, because he knew Auriga could see it. "What are you talking about?"

"The day you finished that portrait of me."

"There are things I would like to forget about that," he hissed. There was a sudden loud and long scream from outside the room, stretching on for a tortuous minute before it was snuffed out. "I think she's mad at you."

Auriga just shrugged a shoulder.

"Doesn't she even realize that you don't give a fuck about her?" Piper asked seriously. "That you'll just shed her like a skin when her usefulness runs out?"

"You know me quite well. I like that." His black and hazel eyes were glittering deviously. "You didn't answer my question though, Piper."

"No, I never wondered."

"You're lying. I could tell you. Yes, you became aware in the middle of sex, but what else happened? What else did I make you do?"

"Even if it was the truth, I wouldn't believe you."

Auriga chuckled. "That's what I like about you, Piper. You always blurt out the very first thing that comes to your mind. It's quite refreshing, especially for a telepath. Though, I guess the exception is those thoughts you're having about Leven's stupid little half-breed. So… do you wish to know?"

"The suspense is killing me," Piper said sarcastically.

"I think if I told you, it would break you." Auriga's malicious smile wilted around the edges, and his eyes were moving, as if he were staring at something that Piper couldn't see. He was looking through the eyes of one of his Tsiiva, and seeing the reappearance of Nebula at Sku'lava, followed by Deirdre, no longer hiding behind her thick shield of glamour.

"You look upset," Piper cooed in an excellent impression of compassion.

"Shut up," Auriga hissed. He could feel her telepathy breaking over him like a wave. He steeled his mental guards and slowly breathed out, rising to his feet. "Get to your feet, my dear. A Queen approaches." Auriga lifted Piper out of the chair by the elbow, making the younger man walk in front of him. Auriga's tone may have been jovial, but Piper could tell his former master was nervous by the way his long fingers needlessly moved across Piper's shoulders, the way he would squeeze them. Was he, perhaps, scared? The sound of wind could be heard echoing through the crumbling stone halls of Sku'lava, and it gently rustled both hair and fabric as Deirdre grew nearer. Nebula walked beside her with a guarded look on her face, like she was fighting an internal war.

Deirdre paid little attention to the horrors within the cells. She could see within Fomalhaut's mind, and was already used to her great dementia. Her attentions were completely focused on the Tsiiva, and her lightning eyes crackled when they found Auriga, standing calmly with his hands on Piper's broad shoulders. She had Rigel in her arms, one hand gently stroking the little girl's dark hair. Rigel had her face pressed into Deirdre's bosom at the Queen's command. She could smell Fomalhaut, and her small body trembled in Deirdre's arms.

Deirdre felt the strange, black aura around Auriga, magic like she'd never felt in all her years of life. His face was mutilated like these other strange creatures, as empty of thought as if they were puppets, their own auras tainted with the same ugly, powerful feeling that came from this man in crashing waves. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"My Lady," Fomalhaut swept into a bow. "May I present to you…"

"Did I ask you?" Deirdre snapped, cutting across her Gold Knight. "Who are you?" She asked again.

"My name is Auriga," he answered in accented Durai. His sharp teeth were glimpsed from between his lips as he spoke. She supposed his face would be quite handsome, if it weren't so frightening.

Deirdre tried to press into his mind, but felt blankness, and she felt him push back in the way only another telepath could. This was the first time in all her 1500 years that she'd met another mind-reader, and yet… he was no Witch, of this much she was certain.

"I am of the House of Electra, ruling family of the Pleiades Archipelago… across the Libra Pass."

"The Libra Pass?" She echoed, looking into his bizarre, lidless eyes. She continued to try and press into his mind, warring for dominance, and again felt the unpleasantness of him trying to invade her thoughts in turn. "So, that's where Dheneb and Rastaban were hiding. How did they teleport through?" She asked as their mental struggle continued.

"The Holy Lady Anessirra's spirit allowed it," Auriga answered. He could feel the wetness of blood trickling down his upper lip, and into his mouth. "The remaining ghost of a telepathic Witch goddess."

"Blasphemy!" Nebula shouted.

"Silence," Deirdre said quietly, though the sound of wind within the hall grew louder. It howled as she spoke, it poured from her tattooed skin. "And, she allowed you passage?" She asked, a trickle of blood coming from her eye like a tear.

"No," Auriga answered, blood now coming faster from his nose. He found against Deirdre's mental strength with all he had. It was starting to affect the Tsiiva, who were becoming discombobulated at their master's mental weakness, his control over them starting to weaken. Piper, Nebula, Rigel and Fomalhaut were also experiencing it, in buzzing headaches, dimming vision, and dizziness. "I destroyed what was left of her, and then just teleported through."

"You killed a goddess?"

"She wasn't a goddess. Just a Witch. Like Dheneb. Like you."

"Like Rastaban?" Deirdre asked harshly. Rigel was starting to cry from the headache caused by Deirdre and Auriga's warring telepathy. "Did you know he'd ascended to Xarastar?"

"Yes."

"And, you kept it secret?"

"It was more amusing that way." He stumbled backwards under the weight of Deirdre's power, hands constricting around Piper's shoulders to keep himself upright.

"You knew?" Nebula shouted, voice echoing. "You lying bastard!"

"Enough, Nebula." Deirdre's voice was quiet, but the tone was not to be argued with. "Go collect Ms. Poll-Altares and the Reverend."

"Yes, Your Highness." She gestured for Enceladus to follow and help.

"Does Rastaban have healing powers?" Deirdre asked of Auriga. Her eyes never left his face. She found it uncomfortable, because he was unable to blink, and his magic was just so different from any she'd ever encountered. She was quite curious about him. She had to put one foot back to keep her balance under his telepathic assault.

"Yes. I mentally ripped his arm out, and he'd grown it back entirely within a day. I'm certain he's already well on the mend from a few bolts of lightning."

"Well, you're full of useful tidbits, aren't you?"

"I could be of use."

"Yes," Deirdre murmured. "I believe you could." She pressed his mental shields even harder, until she felt his magic recede, until she felt him submit. For now. "Is this young man of any importance?" She asked, briefly looking at Piper. Auriga was gripping his shoulders hard enough that his metal nails had dug deep into the skin, leaving bloodstains on the white linen of Piper's shirt.

"A mere slave, My Lady," Fomalhaut answered angrily.

"Kill him then," was Deirdre's dismissive reply, to the Gold Knight's jubilation.

"My slave," Auriga breathed, collecting himself. "My slave who's, up until very recently, been in close confidence with two other Witches whom I'm sure you have an interest in."

Deirdre tried to push into the slave's mind, but he was standing too close to Auriga, his master's mental shield also blocking his thoughts. His black eyes bored into her, full of a strange mix of curiosity and contempt.

"You will walk close to me, so I can keep an eye on you," Deirdre commanded to Auriga.

He inclined his head to her, his face a mask of submission. Piper was certain Auriga had something up his sleeve, for he would have never submitted so easily by choice.

"Get moving!" Nebula's voice barked as she and Enceladus came up the hallway, their heavy footsteps echoing, the sound muffled somewhat by the noise of the wind coming from Deirdre. Wezn and Bella were chained together, Bella equipped with extra shackles.

When she saw the small form of Rigel nestled against Deirdre's bosom, Bella struggled against her shackles in earnest, so much so that Wezn stumbled and banged into her from behind. "Rigel!" She cried out hoarsely, her heart leaping into her throat. To be so close to her daughter…

Rigel looked up from Deirdre's chest at the sound of her name. She looked around the same way she always did, and her face lit up when her gaze found brown eyes that were mirrored in her own face. She made a happy noise and tried to get out of Deirdre's arms, stretching out her chubby arms for Bella.

"Rigel!" Bella moaned, now being restrained by both Nebula and Enceladus. Tears painfully stung her eyes as she stared into Rigel's face, which looked more and more like Florian's.

"Mama!" Rigel cried, opening and closing her hands, a smile on her face brighter than any Deirdre had ever seen. Her whole body shuddered, and her breath came out like an icy winter gale. Bella would have pitied the heartbroken look in her eyes if she didn't despise Deirdre so much. The Witch held onto Rigel tighter, and turned away from Bella so Rigel's view of her was obstructed.

"Rigel!" Bella screamed. "Give me back my daughter!!"

Deirdre slowly looked over her shoulder, her eyes flashing. "Your daughter? Rigel is my child. Just the same as the child in your womb." Though her voice held fury, her eyes showed pain. Panic.

"Noooo!" Bella screamed as the Cassiopeia teleported away, taking Auriga, Piper and Fomalhaut with her. "You bitch!" She cursed Deirdre until her throat was raw, not caring about the hard metal fists of Nebula and Enceladus trying to subdue her. It was only Wezn gently whispering in her ear that started to calm her.

"This won't help," he murmured, clumsily raising his chained arms to touch the backs of her shoulders.

"Listen to the Rev," Nebula commanded. "He's about to know how you feel," she pointed out with a bloodless leer. "How it feels to lose a child."

"Who says I care?" Wezn asked blandly. He tried to walk in time with Bella so their shackled legs wouldn't trip each other up.

"Your eyes do," Nebula answered, roughly shoving Bella and Wezn forward. "If you didn't care, you wouldn't look that worried."

Wezn stared straight ahead as he felt her magic push on him, and take him and Bella along as she teleported away.

Piper sat quietly at the simple, bare table in the equally plain room that was now serving as a cell. True, it was much nicer than anything in that Sku'lava Gallows place, but it was still obvious that it was a prison, at least temporarily. Auriga had been taken into private conversation with the Cassiopeia, so he was alone, save Fomalhaut lurking by the door. She would check a pocket watch as gold as her armour periodically. Impatiently. She would shoot Piper a dirty look, then check the watch again, longing for Auriga's return.

One part of Piper, the much larger part, hoped that Deirdre would see what a threat Auriga was to her, and just kill him. But, there was a very small part of him, a part that he despised, that hoped his former master would return. Because, without him, he would be killed. It was kind of strange that Auriga was keeping him alive. Piper was certain that he would find this amusing. What did Auriga want with him, anyway? He very well knew that Dheneb had told Piper nothing of his plan. Was it just for the entertainment of slow torture? Was it to irritate Fomalhaut? Or, was it some strange sort of connection to home that had made Auriga pluck Piper from the Rhianonuit Palace? No, Auriga would never be that sentimental about a family he'd despised, and who'd hated him just as equally.

Piper's thoughts also went to Imre. He'd been badly hurt in that hallway. Piper had every confidence in Imre's healing abilities, and in his elvish blood, but those couldn't cure everything. What if he was dead? The thought pained Piper, and not just because of his little crush on the half-elf. But, because he genuinely cared about Imre, and thought of him as a friend. He had an urge to protect Imre, because he seemed so forlorn and solitary. It's not like any of the Rhianon elves were showing him kindness, and everyone else was too busy with the major tasks at hand to talk to him very much.

He'd been so engrossed in his own thoughts that it surprised him when the stench of Fomalhaut was right on top of him. Terrifyingly, he'd actually started to almost get used to the smell of her from across the room, like one gets used to the smell of a freshly used, dirty bathroom. But, up close… there was no getting used to that. It was just too awful to be borne. He looked up into her wild eyes, and could hear her panting and seething. Her collapsed nostril made a hellish sucking sound that made Piper throw up into his mouth, which he had to swallow back down.

"How long were you his slave?" She asked tightly. Her fingers were drumming on her hips.

"All my life," Piper answered, looking away from her.

"Why is he so interested in you?" She hissed, leaning closer.

"He likes to torture people," Piper replied in clipped tones, trying to keep his mouth as closed as possible. He turned enough to look into her eyes. "It's something you two have in common."

"Yes," she murmured victoriously. "Yes. It's one of the reasons we so instantly connected. Why we have such an intimate relationship."

Piper let out a derisive snort.

"What was that for?" She demanded.

"You think he loves you?" Piper asked, actually feeling a tiny drop of pity for this wretch. She was so utterly convinced of Auriga's devotion that it was sad. "He'll throw you away when he's done with you. He feels nothing but contempt for you."

"What would a slave know?" She asked, slamming her fist on the table so hard that it left a large gash in the wood. "You don't know anything! You have that look in your eyes, like you're so fucking better than me!" Her voice was starting to shake with manic fury. "You're just like Orchid and Bella. They always thought that I was just some tag-along. Like I wasn't as good as them, like I wasn't as pretty or smart, or good at fighting and mercenary work. Who was the one that always found money when we needed it? Who always found work? Who was the one who had the best connections. And, they thought they were so fucking smart and pretty. Couple of snotty bitches." She was ranting now, spittle flying from her lips.

"And, you're just like them! All in love with Dheneb and Rastaban. Freaks!" She slammed the table again. "FREAKS!" She looked at him again, and her voice dropped to a hissing whisper. "But, Auriga's not like that. He cares. He talks to me. He touches me. He loves me. You act like you know what you're talking about, but you don't know what it feels like to have him touch your bare skin, to own your body, to penetrate you with body and magic."

"Actually, I do."

"What?" She asked, blinking in surprise.

Well, shit. Piper closed his eyes as his stomach plummeted into his shoes, despising his big fat fucking blabber mouth.

"What?!" She asked again, voice high and shrill. "He fucked you?!" She demanded. "HE FUCKED YOU?"

"More like rape," Piper muttered contemptuously.

"He fucked you? He… he… he… he fucked you?" She asked again, like a skipping phonograph. Her armoured fist then came out and hit Piper in the side of the head, causing him to fall out of the chair, sprawling on the floor. "He's mine!" She shrieked, having lost complete control of herself. "Mine!" She shouted, leaping on top of Piper, punching every bit of him her fists could find. Bones shattered and blood squirted from gashes opened by the metal edges of her gauntlets. Piper tried to struggle, but even though she was quite a bit smaller than him, her armour made her very, very heavy, and her mania gave her a superhuman strength. Everything blackened and spun out of control when she landed an especially heavy punch against his temple. He heard something crack ominously.

When she finally rose to her feet, Piper was a pulverized mess. He was covered in swollen bruises and rivets of blood, shaking from the pain of broken bones, his skull cracked. "So…" Fomalhaut breathed out, her wrecked nostril squelching loudly. "You're supposed to be some sort of artist, huh?" She stomped on his hand, the one that had just healed, and ground it under her armoured foot like a cigarette. Piper screamed in agony as his bones were shattered and mashed under the weight, grinding together with an audible noise. She then did the same to the other hand, laughing as Piper screamed in a way that he'd never though he'd be capable of. He felt cold from the blood loss, red pooling around him with frightening speed.

He barely heard the metallic clink of her sword being unsheathed over the blood rushing in his ears. He was blacking out from the pain as she stood over him, sword poised. "Now, what do you think?" She asked, voice hitched because she was breathing so heavily. She was out of breath both from exertion, and from the excitement and arousal from violence. "Which head should I chop off?" She touched the tip of her blade to Piper's scarred cheek, hard enough that it broke the skin. She then lowered the sword, and touched it to his inner thigh, just against his genitals. "Maybe he wouldn't want you without this one, hmm?" She pressed the sword against his crotch, which he didn't struggle against, since he couldn't move. Before she could land a blow, she heard her name loudly being called from the outer hallway.

"Fomalhaut!" Nebula's voice shouted. "Where are you?"

"Looks like you're a lucky piece of shit," she hissed, sheathing her sword.

"Fomalhaut?" Nebula demanded again, sounding angry.

"Coming, coming," she muttered bitterly, spitting on Piper's bloodied, prone form before storming out of the room, leaving him for dead in a quickly expanding pool of blood.

The dimly lit room didn't do much to hide Rastaban's grotesque appearance, especially from Imre's good eyesight. He sat at Rastaban's bedside, his fingers very close to his reddish hand. Imre's stomach ached terribly, and was heavily bandaged, but he wasn't thinking about that. Instead, he was thinking of how he was stuck in this place, which seemed to more and more resemble Hell. His long fingers gingerly crept across the sheets, and touched the back of Rastaban's hand. His skin felt warm and very smooth, like an infant.

He thought of the last time Rastaban had been gravely injured like this. When he'd had his arm ripped out… when Imre had finally known the taste of the older man's lips, the feeling of his warm embrace. His heart still raced at the memory of it, even though he was acutely aware that Rastaban had rejected him, that he'd barely given Imre a second look since. He stroked Rastaban's hand, the veins bright and visible under the new skin.

"You did this to yourself, all for him?" Imre asked quietly, barely audible even in the silence of the room. "Would you have done the same for me, if he'd never came back?" Imre leaned forward and put his cheek against Rastaban's still hand. It felt warm, tingling with magic. He wondered if Rastaban was in pain, and let out some elvish glamour, stroking his fingers up the soft inside of the sleeping man's arm, knowing that even while unconscious, he could feel it. It made Imre's skin glow in a way that was very different from Rastaban or Dheneb. If he'd been full elf, it would have been hypnotic and mind-addling, enough to ensnare a human's desires, but his human blood lessened the effect. It gave him a pleasant, gentle warmth and brought out his elvish beauty, but he would never be able to bewitch anyone with it.

Rastaban stirred ever so slightly, and a small murmur came from his chapped lips. The glamour light receded from Imre's skin as he heard the barely audible whisper, Rastaban saying Dheneb's name. And, his heart deflated like a balloon. He sat up and slowly retracted his hand, putting it miserably in his lap next to the other one.

After a while his ears picked up on the gentle sound of footfall on the carpeted hallway outside. This room was far from the carnage of the battle, so Imre wasn't surprised when he saw Dheneb standing in the doorway. He wondered if the other man was angry to see him there, because his face gave little away.

"Has he woken up yet?" Dheneb asked, concern making his voice tight.

"He's starting to," Imre mumbled into his chest. He briefly looked up into Dheneb's brightly glowing eyes. "They took Piper." A wave of guilt stabbed through Imre like the blade that had given him his injury. Here he was thinking about how he couldn't be with Rastaban, and Piper had been taken somewhere by Auriga. He was probably dead, or worse…

"I know," Dheneb answered.

"He was trying to help me," Imre choked out. "He's the only one here who's nice to me." Imre looked back up at Dheneb, not knowing if he was implying guilt on the Witch's part or not. Dheneb had saved his life by bringing him here, but he was also the indirect cause of Imre's ruin.

Dheneb didn't know how to answer that. He felt sorry for Imre, but still didn't like the helpless desire still in his eyes for Rastaban, who looked miraculously healed. A sunburnt, red complexion was nothing compared to what he had been only hours ago.

Imre slowly rose to his feet, gingerly walking towards the door. "He was asking for you." He held a hand to his stomach, feeling like his innards were going to come toppling out of the healing wound.

"You're hurt…"

"Why did you decide to bring me here?" Imre asked, heat and volume coming to his normally quiet, gentle voice. Imre didn't know why the concern in Dheneb's eyes was making him angry. Maybe Rastaban's rejection would have been easier to swallow if Dheneb were a hateful person, if he were someone like Auriga, instead of someone who now looked at him with worry.

"I just wanted to help," Dheneb answered, surprised by the turn in Imre's countenance. "You would have died."

"As opposed to dying here?" Imre snapped. His anger drained out of him, and left him sagging under the weight of his sadness. "I'll leave you two alone."

"If anyone can survive with Auriga, it's Piper," Dheneb said, wanting to say something to try and put Imre at ease. "I'm sure Rhys appreciates you staying with him."

"He doesn't care," Imre whispered.

"That's not true. You know it isn't," Dheneb said to Imre's retreating back. He sighed and looked down at Rastaban, whose fingers were twitching as he came out of his slumber. His eyes moved under thin eyelids as he felt the warmth of Dheneb's magic in the room with him. Dheneb nervously played with the embroidery on one of the rich brown jacquard throw pillows on the bed.

Rastaban woke, Dheneb a bright and blurry shape above him until his vision focused. "Hi," Rastaban said quietly, hungrily drinking in Dheneb with his eyes. "I guess I did what I set out to, huh?"

Dheneb stared down at Rastaban, at his reddish, taut skin, at his baldness and the brightness of his vaguely opaque blue eyes. "You complete wanker!" Dheneb exclaimed, punctuating each word by hitting Rastaban with the small pillow. "You scared the hell out of me!" He hissed through clenched teeth, hitting the other man once more for good measure before tossing the pillow aside.

"Ow." He said it so simply, even though it did hurt quite a bit. "You're abusing an invalid here." He watched as Dheneb slowly sat on the bed beside him. "Did you get all the Spires?"

The redhead nodded. "All that's left is the one in the Palace."

"What happened?"

Dheneb explained about Nebula and her forces storming the Palace, about Cygnus's death, Auriga working with the Gold Knights and his apparent closeness with Fomalhaut, about Leven going to Abugior for help, and about the capture of Bella, Piper, and his father.

"You worried about your dad?" Rastaban asked, throat parched.

"Yeah. I just hope she doesn't kill him."

'But, what if she kills you?' was on the tip of Rastaban's tongue, but he didn't say it. He couldn't say it. This was possibly the last moment they were going to be alone together, and he very well knew it. He could also see that Dheneb knew it, but they just couldn't vocalize it. It would have been just too hard to say. Instead, he just looked at Dheneb's face, scrutinizing every detail of it. He re-memorized each detail, each angle and line. His bright, fiery eyes with their slit pupil, framed by lush, dark auburn lashes. His strong, straight nose, soft lips, and smooth, warm skin. He even devoured every imperfection. The small scar on Dheneb's temple, near his hairline. Another small, whitish scar below his lip. A small mole at the corner of one eyebrow, the various natural skin discolourations.

Rastaban leaned in and breathed in the smell of Dheneb's hair, and nuzzled against his neck. Dheneb's flesh felt very warm against his tender, regenerating body. "I wish we could have sex right now. But, I don't think my body could handle it."

"At least your genitals grew back."

"Would you have still wanted me if they didn't?"

Dheneb made a non-committal noise and slowly shrugged.

"Oh, I see." Rastaban ran his fingers down Dheneb's spine, feeling the tingle of the runes there, even through his clothing. "So, that's what you were really after all along, eh?"

"I'm just a big slut like that." Dheneb smiled against Rastaban's cheek as he was held tighter. He ran his hand over the other man's now bald skull.

"This is the first time that I haven't had long hair in about sixteen years. It feels really weird."

"As opposed to the non-weirdness of growing back all your skin?"

"Point taken." Again, he felt like he should say something, that this would be their last moment together. But, he couldn't say goodbye. He couldn't. He looked at Dheneb, and saw how he smiled. Dheneb knew exactly what Rastaban was thinking and feeling at that moment, because he was thinking and feeling the exact same things. And, he loved Rastaban even more for not vocalizing it. And, Rastaban loved Dheneb even more for knowing.

"Okay, help me up," Rastaban demanded, feeling tears welling. It hurt like hell because of the newness of his eyes. "We need to work on a plan."

"Orchid told me that Florian is taking care of it. He was really hurt, but he insisted. But, he's okay!" Dheneb added when he saw the stricken look on his lover's face.

"No." Rastaban shook his head when Dheneb reached for a billowy black shirt. "My armour."

"You sure?"

"The mourningstones will help."

Dheneb nodded and started helping Rastaban get into the heavy steel suit. "I don't think we'll meet with as much resistance now," he commented, tying two left arm pieces together. "Thanks to you."

"All I had to do was get struck by lightning," Rastaban scoffed. "A whole bunch of times."

"There." Dheneb stepped back when he'd finished tying the last thong. "All ready."

"How do I look?"

"Like hell."

"Well, I love you too," was Rastaban's sarcastic reply. "I really do, you know?" He added more quietly.

"I know."

"Now, give me a hand here darlin', because I don't know if I can walk by myself yet." He put his helmet under one arm, and looped the other through Dheneb's. They didn't talk, and to Rastaban it felt like a bit of a death march. He tried not to look at Dheneb, but found it impossible not to. He caught glimpses of Dheneb's profile, of the burden that weighed down on his shoulders, the way he was gnawing on his lower lip, the paleness of his complexion. He didn't say anything of comfort, because there was nothing to say.

It wasn't difficult to find the others, for they were mostly all together, conversing in Meraphar's old strategy room. One of the walls had a gaping hole in it, and the room was covered in dust from the debris, books scattered over the floor. Florian was in the center of the group, giving direction over some unfurled maps of the High Capital. His face was pale and sweaty, but he had hard determination all about him that gave him the air of a real leader, like Sir Vega was truly back. Leven's hulking frame was stooped beside him as they pointed at a spot. Leven's triangular head nodded, and he turned to speak to another, female riikarra, wearing leather battle armour and an elaborate necklace of curved fangs and colourful beads. Dheneb and Rastaban had always thought of the Durai riikarra as being big, but they looked small compared to Leven, as if being forced to live underground had stunted them.

Salius looked over at the pair of them, having sensed their magic long before they'd entered the room. Kikimora stood beside him, trailing her finger across the map and murmuring to Florian. The White Witch nodded at both of them, his magical sense letting him see their auras, though he couldn't see their faces.

"Truly miraculous," Orchid commented. Of course, she and the pair of elves flanking her had heard the two men come into the room. She strode forward, and searched Rastaban's face with her glittering eyes. "You do have a flair for drama."

"Knock it off," Rastaban muttered with a wave of his hand, but then he touched the side of her face affectionately.

Florian looked up from the map, and just shook his head ruefully at his old friend.

"Dheneb. Rastaban." Leven came forward and gestured to the other riikarra, whose scales were a coppery, earthy brown mingled beautifully with flecks of gold and tan. "This is Chieftainess Mdibi of Abugior, come to help suppress Deirdre. She's brought a force of her best warriors with her."

"For years we've been forced underground. Where else will we go if this weather continues? And, I could hardly refuse a request from Leven." She had a body very unlike Lila's human-like curves. Her body was broad and powerfully muscular, her breasts small under her armour.

"You know each other?" Dheneb asked.

"I'm from Durai, remember? I remember Mdibi as a youth before I left."

"And, we have a score to settle with Lady Fomalhaut," Mdibi's voice slithered angrily. "She's done many cruelties to the riikarra in that torture factory she calls The Gallows."

"Your help is very, very welcome, Madam." Dheneb inclined his head in thanks.

"What's the plan?" Rastaban asked, looking down at the map, which was of the Durai Palace.

"Of course, the route to Deirdre will be blocked by not only magic, but by Nebula and the surviving Gold Knights. We can't do much against Deirdre's powers if she's using something to shield herself…" Florian began.

"She won't be," Dheneb interrupted. "She'll want me to come to her. She'll probably have my father right in front of her as a shield. She'll use Nebula, Fomalhaut and Auriga to stop the rest of you from interfering."

"Auriga?" Leven echoed. "I can't believe that he would willingly work with anyone, let alone Deirdre."

"I think he's with her, at least until he thinks it's not useful to him anymore. Or, he got cornered. Deirdre would sense instantly that he was telepathic, too."

"Would she control his mind?" Florian asked.

"I don't know if one telepath can brainwash another, but he might submit to her as long as it's convenient for him. He's probably hoping that me and her will kill each other, and he can swoop in."

"I want Auriga alive," Leven hissed.

"Alive? Why?" Orchid asked, raising her silvery eyebrows.

"He has war crimes to answer for in Pleiades. I am resistant to his telepathy, as is Orchid. Let us handle him and the Tsiiva."

"That won't be necessary," Dheneb said with such certainty that it caused them all to stare at him in confusion.

"Dheneb, you're human," Orchid stated. She didn't mean to sound too insulting, but wound up doing so anyway. "If he brainwashes you, it could be catastrophic."

"He won't," Dheneb answered again, with that same iron-clad certainty.

"Do you have a plan?" Florian asked.

"Yes, but I can't tell you what it is, or they'd know."

Everyone around the table knew that 'they' meant Auriga and Deirdre, so while they were curious, they didn't ask about this mystery plan again.

"I said to Rastaban earlier that I don't think the Gold Knight's forces will be nearly as strong as the one they brought here. They all would have seen what happened in Mandaran, or heard about it from their comrades. I can't believe that they would all still fight next to Deirdre, after the poison she's spewed about Witches for all these years. But, I'm more worried about civil unrest."

Florian nodded slowly. "Yes, I've thought of that, too. But, even with the riikarra, and the elvish warriors that can be spared, our forces would be way too small to fight any sort of civil army."

"You also have us," a voice said, loud and clear, from the doorway. Mizar came into the room, flanked by Evithir of the Knights of Ahlixar, and Lady Aemalla, head of the White Court of Magdalena. Evithir bowed low to Dheneb, while Mizar and Rastaban shared a long look. Aemalla was equally enthralled, but her gaze was for Salius. She went over to him, and sank down to one knee.

"Our numbers are greatly reduced because of Fomalhaut's genocide of the Black and White Courts, but what Knights we have are at your service."

"You feel comfortable serving someone you banished from your Court, Mizar?"

"Rhys!" Dheneb exclaimed quietly.

"It will be an honour to serve under Tehr-Magdalene," Aemalla pledged, looking up into Salius's blind eyes. The handsome, olive-skinned Knight's aura was faint, but Salius could just barely make it out in the blackness of his vision. She used the masculine form of the goddess's name.

"I can also signal Lila. She's docked in Libra Harbour with the Ptarmigan and an armada of zeppelins."

"Zeppelins?!" Quite a few of the people in the room murmured in surprise, looking between each other.

"That could help quell any social unrest outside the Capital, for sure," Florian commented.

"Won't that look like an invasion though, Vega?" Aemalla asked, rising to her feet. Her grey-streaked raven hair was pulled back into an elegant twist, her diamond diadem glittering among her tresses. She, Evithir and Mizar had been informed of the events that led to the Libra Pass no longer being impassable.

"I think Florian should address the people over the Communicard network," Rastaban said.

"I agree," was Evithir's immediate reply.

"Me? Why?"

Rastaban clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes with impatience. But, it was Evithir who answered. "Everybody loves you. The tide didn't turn when Deirdre showed herself when she attacked Sir Rastaban. It had already started when you'd been deposed as Captain of the Gold Knights. Nobody believed you were a traitor."

Florian's pale cheeks started to flush pink.

"We're overlooking one major thing," Orchid said. "What if Deirdre wins?" She asked blandly.

"Orchid, come on…" Florian trailed off.

"I think we'd be in big trouble," Kikimora said, looking shyly at Dheneb. He had a troubled expression on his face, but met her gaze. She felt badly for the stiffness of their last conversation. As she looked at him, she thought back to the Dheneb he'd been only a couple short years ago. The meek, scared young man who hated himself, who walked with his shoulders stooped and a sad expression in his dimly glowing eyes. The way everyone's hatred ate away at his aura, at his self-esteem. All he'd wanted was someone to care about him, to love him. And, now he had that in spades. Even though he was on the brink of what could be his death, Kikimora was certain he'd never been happier in his life. He had friends now. He was embracing his magic, and now it glowed powerfully through his skin and eyes. And, he had someone who loved him. Someone who loved all of him. Kikimora felt her throat constricting, and her almond-shaped eyes getting moist. She looked down at the maps because she didn't want Dheneb to see her cry. She wanted him to see a strong, brave face. One that believed in him, even if he lost, even if Deirdre defeated and killed him.

"R-Rastaban… Rastaban and… I would… we could defeat her," Salius said, his voice halting and jilted. He'd spent so much time not conversing, either in animal form, or locked in the Veriathiel hospital, that it was hard for him. It was a skill he'd forgotten in his mania. "We may… not be… ele-elementals, but…sh-she would be… weakened."

"Can you still transform?" Rastaban asked.

Salius gave one, slow nod.

"What about Bella?" Florian asked, voice strained.

"She'll still be alive," said Dheneb.

"Could the same still be said about your father? Or Piper?" Leven asked.

"I don't know…"

"Well, no matter what, we won't give up on them, right?" Florian asked with such confidence that it was infectious. "Now, let's get to work."

Piper dreamed. He dreamed of being held in the cocoon of warm arms, calming breath against his cheek and neck. Like a lover. He dreamed that they were Imre's arms, stroking healing magic into his skin, putting his body back together. He dreamed of Imre's soft black hair and cerulean eyes, bluer than the sapphire seas of Pleiades. He dreamed of parents he'd never known, though he knew they must have existed. What did they look like? What did they do for a living? Had one of them been an artist? Had he inherited his ability from his mother? His father? Had they all lived in a place where his exotic bronze skin was common, instead of something he'd never seen in another human being?

He dreamed of Dheneb, and his kindly eyes, full of Faire-Ahlixar's fire. Maybe Piper was astrologically born under the Fire Moon, and that's why he felt so connected to the Witch. Piper didn't know when his birthday was. He'd never had a party or a cake, and had only been told what year he was born, but that could have been a lie.

But, none of that mattered in the warmth of this embrace. Was this death? Was this what the true power of Xarastar was? Was this Rastaban guiding him to the afterworld? He tried to look up, but everything was blurry and white, so he couldn't see. He tried to focus, feeling like he was floating in water, floating in the magic that was coursing through his body. He tried to focus on the magical energy to regain some balance in this foggy place, and found himself in a stable. Horses were in their stalls, munching on hay or salt licks. They looked down at Piper with their big brown eyes, some neighing quietly, others going back to their food. They all loomed so large. Piper must have been a boy, but he could never remember going to the stables. That wasn't one of his slave duties.

He stopped at one stall, where there was a man brushing the gleaming chestnut horse inside. It swished its tail as it was preened, looking down at Piper. He put his hands on the wooden gate to the pen, and watched the man brushing the horse. His hands were tanned and calloused from working them hard every day. Carrying hay, polishing saddles, making horseshoes. Piper was content to watch this man, and felt joy bursting in his tiny, child-sized chest. Piper had no memory of this man with his tanned skin and honey blonde hair, but he felt adoration anyway.

"You should be at your studies," the man replied, not looking up from the horse. He was chiding Piper, but his tone was gentle and kind. But strangely, his mouth didn't move.

"I don't like studies," Piper replied in a voice that wasn't his own. He also didn't feel his mouth move.

The man grinned and pulled the brush away from the horse, turning to face Piper. Piper was sure only his eyes and nose would be visible over the top of the tall gate. "You shouldn't say that," he said, again with no mouth motion. He put a hand on the gate, just millimetres away from Piper's. Like he wanted to touch him, but couldn't. "And, you shouldn't be down here."

"I don't care what he says," Piper muttered scathingly. "I just wanted to see you."

The man smiled, and it filled Piper with warmth. There was something about his face that was familiar, but he was certain he'd never met this man before. He moved his hand slightly, and touched Piper's. His skin was very dark compared to the paleness of Piper's small hands. Inside himself, somewhere faraway, he wondered why he was white. But, it was a fleeting problem. He just basked in the happiness of this moment. The pure, unadulterated joy in him at being with this man.

"Oi, Raef!" A booming voice called. Piper gasped at the loud noise, some of the horses stomping their hooves or rearing their heads in surprise.

The man, Raef, looked up, the smile on his face receding. Piper recognized the uniform of Agamemnon's personal guard. He was also flanked by four figures that Piper definitely recognized. Slave catchers. Among the Electra slave population, they were the boogeyman. Slaves would much rather take their chances with the King than with the Slave Catchers. They were mostly criminals who were getting paid to do what they liked doing anyway - torturing people.

"What are you doing?" Piper demanded of the guard.

"Stand aside, My Lord. Please."

"No!" Piper demanded.

"It's all right," Raef said quietly. His handsome face wasn't registering surprise. Two of the Slave Catchers grabbed Raef by the upper arms and started dragging him away. They all briefly bowed when Clytemnestra came into the stable, walking slowly under the weight of her heavy crown. She briefly looked over to Raef as she passed him, their eyes locking for a moment before he was dragged away.

"Stop!" Piper demanded again, but the guards were already walking away. Clytemnestra's hands came to rest on Piper's shoulders. "Papa!" He screamed, moving to run after them.

"No," Clytemnestra said quietly, restraining him. "Now, come. The King wants you present."

"Why are you letting them take him?" The child demanded, hands balled into fists. "Why!?"

Clytemnestra didn't answer, but a thin trickle of blood came from one nostril. She gripped his shoulders, and started making him walk back up towards the Palace. Piper looked down at his white hands, and saw blood leaking from between his clenched fingers. He opened his fists, and saw bleeding little crescents where his metallic gold nails had broken the skin. And, that's when Piper truly realized these weren't his memories. When he looked up, he strangely found himself already in the Palace, in the Hall of White Judgement. Piper knew what this was, though he hadn't even been born yet. This was the execution of Raef deGruy for treason, and for raping the Queen, though everyone knew very well that it had been mutual. This was the execution of Orestes Electra's real father. Piper was watching it through the young Auriga's eyes, feeling what he'd felt that day. He tried to struggle against his mother's hands, but was too weak. Even his telepathy wasn't strong enough to do anything. Piper felt Orestes's agony, and the growing hatred for his mother, at her passiveness, at her desire to do nothing to stop this farce of an execution.

It's okay, a gentle voice said into his head. Raef was kneeling on the ground, Agamemnon watching eagerly. Piper realized their mouths hadn't been moving because they were speaking telepathically. Orestes had inherited it from Raef.

Orestes looked into his father's eyes, which were a very dark, warm brown. It's okay, Raef repeated as the axe was raised above his head. I love you echoed in Orestes's mind as the axe came down, and as a scream left his youthful body, hatred for Agamemnon and Clytemnestra growing in him like a cancer. Piper suddenly felt like the lights had gone out, like he'd been ceremoniously yanked from the scene, and the warm embrace he'd felt suddenly turned to one that was hard and painful, slapping him into consciousness. The hands that moved over his injuries were now bringing torturous healing.

Piper was still laying on the floor where Fomalhaut had left him, in the now congealed and sticky pool of blood, spooned in his former master's arms. Auriga was also laying on the floor, the blood having stained his clothes. He was using magic to heal Piper's wounds. Had that really been Auriga who'd been holding him so gently earlier, whose breath had felt so reassuring and loving? The magic that coursed through him was still strong, but now he felt the agony of each bone reconnecting, each nerve screaming from Fomalhaut's beating. He'd been healed by magic before, and knew it wasn't supposed to feel like this. He was being punished for what he'd seen when the healing magic had connected his mind with Auriga's.

Piper let out a weak moan when a rib pulled out from where it had pierced his lung, like he was being stabbed and the blade was being jerked out. Auriga was pressing into his mind to make him feel the pain more acutely. And, there was nothing Piper could do about it, except lay in Auriga's arms, completely at his mercy, despising him. But, he'd felt the pain Orestes felt the day he'd watched his father die. He'd heard Raef's last words. Piper felt something new mingling with his hatred, something he'd never thought he'd feel for Auriga. Sympathy.

Dheneb, Rastaban and Salius were powerful enough to teleport right into the Palace, so they carried with them the small force that was backing them up. The Knights of Ahlixar, the Black Knights and the White Knights, as well as some elves and riikarra, were going into the city to try and maintain calm. Orchid and some elvish warriors, Leven, Mdibi and a few riikarra warriors, as well as Kikimora and Florian were with them. Deirdre knew Dheneb well enough to know that he'd teleport right to this exact spot, so this is where her meat shield was waiting. And, Dheneb had been correct. It was a very small force.

Dheneb had brought them right to the domed throne room, with its glass ceiling that looked up to the stars and six moons. None of that could be seen because of the thick, swirling cloud cover. Dheneb's goal was the set of oak doors behind Deirdre's grand throne. Beyond the doors was a stairwell that led up to her private quarters, where he knew she was waiting. Where the last Wind Spire was located. But, the way was currently blocked. The Tsiiva were standing front and center, facing Dheneb, with the others behind them, including Auriga. He was holding Piper in front of him like a shield, Fomalhaut beside him, leering gleefully. Her wild blue eyes would sometimes go to Piper, and she'd get a look of pure rage on her face. Nebula was also there, with Rigel in her arms, and a number of army officers at her side. Dheneb heard Florian's sharp intake of breath when he saw his daughter in person for the first time. Many of the soldiers murmured in shock when they saw Rastaban standing beside Dheneb, very much alive.

"You can surrender here," Nebula said loudly. Rigel was antsy in her arms. "And, avoid bloodshed."

Dheneb raised a hand when he heard murmuring behind him. He didn't look at Nebula, but his eyes were solely on Auriga. Piper looked grey and sweaty, like he was in a great deal of pain.

"Are you ready to die for a Queen that's killing you?" Dheneb asked, not taking his eyes off Auriga, who was grinning. He was starting to feel the heavy press of his telepathy. "Why do you think we live under glass? Why do you think there's no farmland? You know what she is."

"She's like you!" Nebula snapped. A few of the officers murmured agreement, though most were eying Rastaban and Salius warily.

"Yes, that's true," Dheneb replied, his voice strong even though it felt like his brain was in a vice. "And, that's why I'm the only one who can stop her. And, you want to kill me for trying to save you?"

"Shut up!" Fomalhaut hissed.

"You aren't going to stop me," Dheneb said sternly. He started pressing against Auriga with his telekinesis, pushing deep into his body. The weight of telepathy was overbearing, and blood dripped onto the floor from his nose. But, Dheneb kept pushing back, closing his eyes and picturing all the diagrams of the human brain in the books that were still piled around the bed back in Rhianonuit. A map of all the sections of the brain, and which part controlled Auriga's telepathy. He let out a cry as he pushed with maximum force, his telekinesis like an invisible hand. He pressed a hot thumb into the spot in his frontal lobe that controlled this rare power. Auriga let out a sudden scream, blood pouring from his nose as that part of his brain was burned and killed. He collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony. It was as if he'd suddenly gone blind. The Tsiiva in front of him slouched like marionettes with their strings cut. They looked around in confusion, Auriga no longer able to control them. They gaped at their surroundings, wondering where they were as Auriga screamed and screamed behind them, his nails scratching his face as he clawed at it.

"Now!" Florian cried in the confusion. They rushed the group, attacking the army officers. The Tsiiva collapsed, gingerly touching their own faces. Some let out pitiable screams when they felt what they'd become. Dheneb walked through the crowd, using his powers to push anyone away who stood in his path to the doors.

"Stand down, Nebula!" Florian commanded, pointing his blade at her as Orchid cut down two soldiers in quick succession beside him.

"I don't take orders from you!"

"Auriga!? Auriga, my love. Please, say something!" Fomalhaut cried gently, kneeling beside him. She tried to touch him, but his was writhing so violently. "My darling…" She let out a furious scream and leapt to her feet. Looking around wildly, she saw Rastaban striding towards her. Her whole body shuddered with desire for revenge, and her manic eyes quickly searched as she felt Rastaban's magic beating down on her. Behind her, Leven had reached Auriga, and clapped a magic-dampening collar around his throat, but he barely noticed as he still wailed, moaning in agony, cursing Dheneb violently. She shot a makeshift curse at Rastaban, knowing that he'd easily block it, but it gave her the second she needed. With her eyes locked on Nebula, she ran towards her Captain, and roughly grabbed Rigel out of her arms. Florian swore loudly, and tried to lunge at her, but Nebula clashed swords with him as Fomalhaut squeezed the squirming, crying girl to her chest.

"Let her go," Rastaban commanded, voice clear and angry from behind his helmet.

"Or what?" Fomalhaut leered. "You'll curse me? You'll use some of your freak magic on me?" Her voice cooed obscenely. "But, what about poor little Rigel here?" Fomalhaut yanked on the girl's hair, exposing her tender throat. Rigel was sobbing so hard that she was gasping and swallowing for air. "Mama! Mama!" She was crying, her voice wobbly and wet.

"Rigel!" Florian cried, trying to shoulder-check past Nebula, who beat Florian back with a cold spell. She then slammed her heavy, armoured body into him, so he hit the wall with a loud bang. "Rigel!" He cried again, throwing Nebula back with a spell of his own, singeing one of her cheeks with the heat of it. It left a bright red welt on her pale skin.

Rigel looked over to where someone was calling her name, and reached her arms out, silently beckoning for Florian to come over to her. As if, deep down, she knew who he was.

"She's just a baby!" Rastaban hissed. "Let. Her. Go."

"You and Dheneb should burn!" Fomalhaut murmured lowly. Her whole body was shaking with hatred. "Look what you did to me!"

"You deserved it."

Fomalhaut shot a powerful curse at him, which he had to use considerable magic to stop. He could feel the vibration of the curse breaking up all across his armour, and felt the pain in his still-healing nerves.

"You think you can win against me?" Rastaban asked her seriously. But, right now she did have the upper hand. There was no spell he could use against Fomalhaut that wouldn't hurt Rigel, too.

"What should I do?" Fomalhaut cooed. "What should I do to Dheneb if that lying bitch Queen doesn't kill him first? How should I make him suffer for hurting my dear Auriga, hmm? Maybe lobotomize him? Keep him alive, so you can watch him stare vacantly into space, drooling and shitting like a vegetable? So he wouldn't recognize you?"

"Talia, put her down!" Rastaban shouted, dark magic leaking from him. The mourningstones bubbled and roiled.

"YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE!" Fomalhaut screamed, raising her hand. "Th'dvisix shidlahvvisx," she began murmuring. "Avi shizavii ovihxihap, touth Sanguine no vissae."

Rastaban readied a heavy curse shield as Fomalhaut finished chanting, and then saw in horror as she turned her palm downward, and the curse came down on top of Rigel in palpable, almost visible waves. Fomalhaut then flung the girl from her arms as if she were a bag of garbage, laughing uproariously.

"NO!" Rastaban screamed, running towards the little girl, who had been briefly levitated in the air by the spell. She landed back down with a thud, making high-pitched screams that echoed across the battles horrifically. Blades halted mid-air at the awful sound, tears coming to the eyes of soldiers who had children.

"Rigel!" Florian cried, trying to get past Nebula, but she was blocking his way. "Get out of the way, Renelle! That's my daughter!"

"No, she isn't!" Nebula hissed, tackling Florian's slender body, slamming them both into the wall. "She is the Queen's daughter!"

Kikimora reached Rigel first, and started to try and cast healing magic on her, but when Rastaban arrived, he slapped her hands away. "There's nothing you can do!" He shouted at her, tearing off his helmet.

Mdibi tried ran towards the panting Fomalhaut, who was still laughing at the sound of Rigel's screams, but she did something she'd only recently learned, and had kept secret for just such an occasion. She teleported away. "Cowardly dog!" Mdibi called after her.

Rastaban only briefly looked up from Rigel when he heard the oak doors behind the throne opening. He saw Dheneb going through them, and not looking back. He took off his gauntlets and touched Rigel's temples with his bare hands, murmuring under his breath. Kikimora and Piper also knelt around her, breathing heavily.

The elves, Salius and the riikarra made short work of the rest of the confused force. They let anyone go who threw down their weapon, wanting to flee. Florian fought his former lieutenant with manic force, wanting desperately to go to Rigel, who was still screaming. "Get out of the way, you heartless bitch!"

"You're a worthless traitor!" Nebula shouted back. Her blade was suddenly knocked out of her hand by a swift, hard kick to the elbow. She was spun around by the blow, and came face to face with a very angry Bella, who'd escaped her room when the Tsiiva guarding her had become strangely confused, and fallen to his knees, oblivious to Bella. She'd immediately come searching for Rigel, and followed the sounds of battle and the screaming. Bella's fist connected hard with Nebula's jaw in an uppercut, which was quickly followed by a second blow to the cheek in combination. Nebula was elevated off her feet by the force of the punches, a fist now coming into contact with the side of her head at the same time as a hard, lightning fast three-kick combo into her armoured stomach. It sent Nebula flying backwards, where she slammed loudly into the wall, and collapsed in an unconscious heap.

"You okay?" Bella asked quietly, putting a hand on Florian's shoulder.

"Rigel…" He panted, grabbing her elbow and leading her. Bella then realized that the awful screams were coming from her daughter.

"No!" She cried, running to where Rastaban was kneeling, Florian right beside her. They skidded to their knees, and saw that Rigel looked grey, her body twitching violently. "Rigel!! What happened to her?!" She demanded.

"The Sanguine Curse," Rastaban replied, going back to murmuring counter-curse incantations.

Bella gasped in horror, clutching Florian's arm. "Oh, Holy Lady…" He trailed off, bowing his head in prayer.

Piper hadn't understood the word they'd used, but the horror on their faces was unmistakable.

"But Rhys, there's no counter-curse," Florian choked out, putting an arm around Bella and holding onto her for dear life.

"Yes, normally. But, Fomalhaut did it wrong. There may be hope."

"Can you cure her?" Bella asked, eyes wet with tears, her voice beyond desperate.

"I don't know," Rastaban answered honestly.

Dheneb slowly walked up the stairs, the wind howling loudly. Not just from outside, but from the room at the top of the stairs, as well. The thick doors shut out the heart-wrenching sound of Rigel's screaming. His disgust with Talia hit a new high, but he couldn't look back now. He could feel the tempest of Deirdre's power roiling behind the door just ahead. He looked out to the sky through the plate glass windows that lined the slim stairway, the ugly black sky illuminated only by the random crackle of lightning jumping between clouds.

He squared his shoulders, and used his telekinesis to push the door open. Deirdre was standing in the middle of the room, waiting patiently, having felt him behind the door, decked out in a full-skirted evening gown in blood red, her hair up in a loose, elegant twist, expensive jewellery glittering. She was even wearing one of her tiaras for the occasion. The last Wind Spire stood in the back corner of the room, far more slender and elegant than the large machines she'd created across Durai. She was standing beside Wezn, who was staring straight ahead, a magic-dampening collar around his neck. Dheneb kept a single thought in his mind, knowing that Deirdre would see his mental projection of Rigel being hit full-blast by Fomalhaut's curse. Her face paled dramatically under her eye makeup and deep red lipstick, making it look clownish.

"Rigel…" She breathed. "Is she…?"

"I don't know," Dheneb answered. The magical energy in the room caused his skin to look like bright sunshine. "Rhys will try his best." His eyes narrow. "And, I'm sure you'll kill him as a method of thanks. Or, hold him prisoner while you rape him of his magic."

"You could cause this all to end," Deirdre murmured, desiring his magic. Desiring him. He'd worn an exquisitely tailored shirt in a minty green colour that brought out his colouring handsomely, and black slacks, looking like he'd come from some fashionable party. "Come back to me, and it can end." She frowned, lightning crackling in her dark navy eyes. "Where is that dragon? I cannot feel that power."

"Gone." Both their magical auras were getting charged through the tightly civil conversation. Suddenly, Wezn felt like he'd been grabbed by a riptide, and found himself being yanked to the door. Dheneb only briefly looked at him as he used his telekinesis to remove his father from the room. Wezn was deposited in a heap in the stairwell, the door slamming shut behind him. He could hear the wood creaking under the weight of magic from within the room.

Wezn lifted his hands, feeling the heat radiating through the wood, like there was an inferno in there. He heard some sort of loud bang that shook the floors, and then the skies opened up. The black clouds turned blood red, and it looked like the sky was on fire, the flames rolling with the clouds, lightning lashing out everywhere. Wezn knew he should run, should get far away from the room as he could, but he found himself rooted to the spot, looking up at the frightening sky.

Within the room, as soon as his father was safely out of the way, both Dheneb and Deirdre let their power flow out of them at full-force, the way only an elemental Natural mage could. The first thing Dheneb did was push his telekinesis into her mind, as he'd done with Auriga. He'd seen Auriga as practice for this moment. But, Deirdre's magical shields were much, much stronger. Dheneb could feel his feet sliding back from the force of the wind, and had to throw up a wall of fire to avoid being tossed across the room like a cork. The fire flashed brighter because of all the oxygen Deirdre was blowing, and it flew back at her, causing her to have to fling up stronger shields. The brief stumble let Dheneb get deeper into her mind, and she gasped as she felt his hot magic in there. She groaned as she fought against it with all her power, lightning rolling down her arms and around her clenched fists. The skirt of her bright red sleeveless gown was lifted by the wind, and lightning crackled from the walls, striking towards Dheneb. It exploded in a flash of bright white light as it came in contact with the fire shields. The light shot back at her, and when she had to shield from the attack, Dheneb slammed his magic into her brain, snuffing out the small part of her frontal lobe that controlled her telepathy, the same as he'd done with Auriga.

Deirdre screamed as blood, red as her gown, came from her nose, splattered across her own face from the wind that circled her. Her scream of pain could barely be heard over the howling wind as her shaking, gloved fingers reached up to touch her face. She felt the same sense of blindness that Auriga had felt, like someone had amputated her arms, or torn out a vital organ. Her lips curled back from her teeth in an inhuman snarl when she heard the creaking of metal. While she'd been incapacitated from the removal of her telepathy, Dheneb had begun to destroy her last Wind Spire. She felt her last connection to the land shatter, and let out a banshee-like scream, throwing all she had at Dheneb. She no longer wanted him imprisoned so she could siphon his magic. She wanted him dead.

"I'll wipe you off the face of the earth," Deirdre hissed in Witch language, her voice thick with hatred. Blood was still rhythmically dripping from her nose, staining her dress. "I'll kill everyone you ever cared about. I'll kill anyone who even mentions your name." Her words were now an ugly slither, coming out through clenched teeth as Dheneb was flung backwards by hurricane-force winds. He used his telekinesis to avoid hitting the wall and breaking all his bones.

"Your last Wind Spire is gone," Dheneb hissed back, his body so full of charged magic that he appeared to be on fire. "I can just wait you out. You're dying."

Deirdre punched her fist into the floor, sending hundreds of volts of electricity through the ground. Dheneb had to teleport to avoid being electrocuted. He teleported near to her, and enveloped her in fire, which she pushed off with a blast of icy wind. Dheneb went skidding across the marble floor, throwing up a shield as lightning struck him. He could feel the crackling heat exploding all around his hot, protective barrier. He held his breath as thick, black smoke billowed from the magical contact. Their appearances became less and less human as their magic became thicker and less controlled. They teleported towards each other and away from attacks, their magic filling the room and moving the skies, their bodies just blurs of light and wind.

As the two Witches battled, the rest of Durai could only sit back and watch the horrific skies, like fire was going to come pouring from the clouds at any second. Within the High Capital, militia forces that were trying to storm government buildings and take control of them were being blocked by the Black and White Court, but all battle was halted as they stared up at the skies. Cracks were appearing in the elvish glass across the grand city, and all the cities on the continent. People in Clathe stood in the center of the fruit market, apples rolling down the street's gradual hill from a cart that had been upset in the shock of the sky becoming red, everyone stunned into statuesque silence. Even the Goblins had come out of their cave dwellings in the mountains, and from out of Tarphalla Fort, to watch the events.

In Mandaran, the increased winds had shattered the crack left by Deirdre during the Festival of the White Dawn, and the Temple's courtyard was rained upon by shards of heavy glass. People prayed in their homes, not praying for a victor, but praying that they would survive, praying for the lives of those they loved. Mandaran's opium dens were even silenced, the strung-out addicts coming out of their smoking, dim hovels with hookah pipes dangling from their lips, watching the skies with a calm, drug-addled fascination, making 'ooh' and 'ahh' noises, like it was a fireworks display.

Rhulia Desmond watched from her salon window, a teacup shaking in her hands. Normally, there would have been children playing in the park across the lane from her home, but the street was eerily silent, only the wails of the wind that now whipped into Mandaran city proper. She'd been at the prayer service, and had been shaking ever since, no matter how much soothing Selfeuille apple tea she drank, no matter how much she tried to relax or get rest, no matter what soothing words her husband gave her. Few knew that this handsome woman with her ash blonde hair was more shaken by Rastaban's being a Witch than Deirdre being one. For, few knew that her maiden name was Blauendraat, and that Rhys was the only surviving member of her family. She'd had no contact with her younger brother since only a few years after their father's death. She's refused because of Rastaban's blasphemous comments, even back then, about Deirdre being a tyrant. He'd suspected that something shady was going on under her surfaces, though he hadn't known at the time that she was a Witch. Nor that he was, as well. She'd seen him use the black power of Xarastar. She'd seen him teleport away after a seemingly fatal blow.

She'd also heard of Rhys's affair with a Natural mage of Faire-Ahlixar, this Dheneb Azi-Daehar. How could she not? It was a national scandal, for a respected Black Knight, and the son of Aldebaran, to be sexually involved with someone like that. And now, she was watching that same Natural mage of Faire-Ahlixar fill the sky with red fire. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know how to feel. How could she even pray to Magdalena, knowing that the White Lady had also probably been a Witch? She looked out to the quiet street, and saw most windows were like black, empty eyes. But, some had the flicker of a lone candle flame within. The house directly across from hers, the Auberign family, had lit red candles, and put them in the windows that faced east. A traditional night time prayer to Faire-Ahlixar, to have the candles facing the direction of the sun's rising. They were praying for this Fire Witch's victory, and they weren't alone. Small red candles randomly dotted streets in all the cities of Durai.

In the throne room, Leven and Mdibi took care of restraining Auriga and Nebula, as well as clearing out the dead. A few of the Durai soldiers had stayed behind to help, seeing no point in taking sides now. Rigel's awful screaming had subsided, but she was still twitching and moaning in pain, her face chalky white. Orchid and the elves looked up to the skies which loomed large over their heads in the glass-domed room, murmuring elvish prayers. Salius crouched by the doors, stroking the shoulders of a weeping Tsiiva, comforting the poor wretch, who covered his face in disgust and shame. He could feel the overwhelming press of magic from above.

"Rhys… since she did the curse wrong, what does that mean?" Florian asked desperately. Rigel's body was stilling, and she had a deathly pallor.

Rastaban didn't answer, and kept up his melodious droning, slowly breaking apart the curse, like one would slowly pick a series of locks. Because Fomalhaut had used a bastardized version of the normally incurable Sanguine Curse, Rastaban's work was slow and tedious. To curse a child with any curse was unfathomable, let alone one that normally was so darkly powerful an incurable, and had been done incorrectly on top of all of it. Rastaban had no way of knowing how the Sanguine Curse would affect Rigel's tiny body. It was a curse that, while he knew he'd be able to perform it, especially now that he was of Xarastar, he never even would have considered it.

"What curse did she use?" Piper whispered to Kikimora.

"The Sanguine Curse," the sprite answered gravely.

Piper mouthed 'Sanguine', and it suddenly clicked what she meant with her Durai pronunciation. "Sanguine…" Piper trailed off sadly. He knew all about the Sanguine Curse. It had been a subject that Clytemnestra had found so fascinating. How it was one of the most difficult curses to perform, and took years and years of study to be able to accomplish, even if one was already adept at casting curses. It was also unique in the fact it was the only curse that people willingly and purposefully used on themselves, or had a skilled curse-caster use on them. The sheer agony they experienced was nothing in comparison to their desire to become a Vampire. Piper felt sick that Fomalhaut had used such a curse on a child.

"Get up," Leven commanded, hauling Auriga up by his armpits. He swooned and collapsed, unable to hold himself upright. Leven held onto Auriga's bicep as the barely conscious man slumped against him, moaning as blood still trickled from the orifices of his face. Auriga was a man who'd always looked terrifying and imposing, and now he looked crumpled and pathetic. He was murmuring something that Leven couldn't make out.

"You may as well take him down to the jail," Orchid commented, wiping her blade clean on her breastplate.

"I'll take her," Mdibi said, jerking a finger over to where Nebula was still unconscious.

"Here." Orchid handed the Chieftainess a magic-dampening collar and a pair of shackles.

"I think she'll be harmless for a while yet," Mdibi commented, almost jokingly. "I guess she never learned to not get a Temple Monk angry."

Rastaban suddenly gasped, looking up to the sky. He could feel a shiver of magic going down his spine like cold water. It was a shivering in the threads of life and magic. Two great magical powerhouses were in their death throes. He was feeling Dheneb and Deirdre's power fading, like the cosmos would feel the shivering of the dying of a great star just before it went supernova. The last seconds of an elemental war. A great shuddering went through the castle like an earthquake, and then the skies went black with a bang like some huge explosion. Salius gasped and clutched at his chest, his other hand tightening around the shoulder of one of the despondent Tsiiva he was trying to comfort.

"What's happening?" Kikimora whispered shakily, looking up to the black sky, which looked even blacker after being so fiery only moments before.

Every person in Durai held their breaths as the black sky and silence beat down on them. And, then the thunder rolled.

"Oh, God…" Piper breathed, looking at Rastaban in the dim light from the electrical sconces of the throne room. He was looking down at Rigel, his mouth still moving in silent counter-curses, but he looked like he'd just had his heart ripped out. His lower lip was shaking, and his eyes glimmered wetly, his hands violently shaking against Rigel's temples as the thunder continued to ceaselessly bellow.

Wezn had been walking slowly down the staircase. He'd go down a few steps, and then stop to look back to the creaking door. Though he wasn't on the same magical plane as someone like Deirdre or his son, he could feel the overwhelming press of power. He stumbled when there was a sudden quake in the floor, and some kind of terrifyingly powerful magic explosion. He stumbled, and rolled down a couple of stairs, groaning as he jarred his elbow against the unforgiving marble. He looked back up the stairs as he felt an ugly, oppressive stillness, and then his ears heard it. The thunder, like victorious war drums.

"Dheneb…" He breathed, suddenly overcome. Wezn wrenched himself to his feet, the thunder deafening. He ran back up the stairs, three at a time, his bad knee protesting violently, which he completely ignored. It was nothing to the ragged, painful beating of his heart against his ribs. "Dheneb!" He cried, running full-force at the door. But, with the press of magic gone, the door was now unlocked, so Wezn stumbled into the room, and saw both Dheneb and Deirdre laying on the floor, some twenty feet apart. Dheneb was on his back, not moving, Deirdre on her stomach. There was blood oozing from somewhere on his chest, staining his pale green shirt, and both of them were covered in bleeding cuts and wounds from flying debris. Wezn ran to his son's immobile form, and fell to his knees, skidding on the slippery marble. He saw that Dheneb wasn't breathing, though he still felt warm. Wezn's fingers felt for a pulse against Dheneb's hot neck, and eventually found a very weak, dying rhythm. Then, he couldn't feel it.

"No," he breathed out, voice shaking. "No, no no no no no! Dheneb? Dheneb, answer me! Dheneb!" He shouted, shaking his son's shoulders. Because of the collar around his neck, he couldn't use healing magic. Instead, he ripped at the first top few buttons on Dheneb's pale green shirt, and found the spot where his heart would be, performing manual resuscitation on his son. He breathed air into Dheneb's lungs, then put his ear to his chest, trying to find a heartbeat. "Dammit!" He hissed under his breath, counting as he rhythmically thumped down on Dheneb's still chest.

He was so intent on reviving Dheneb that he paid no interest to Deirdre behind him. She stirred on the marble floor, her gown a blood red pool of silk and taffeta all around her. She could feel the sticky wetness of blood between her body and the floor, and clawed at the marble as she tried to pull herself forward. Her body was lead, and her vision flickered, the thunder sounding distant and tinny in her ears. There was a great, shuddering clap of thunder that made the elvish glass rattle dangerously, then Deirdre heard a strange noise. At first, it was just a few plinks, like the sound of pearls falling against the floor, and then it was more and more, the thunder rolling in harmony with the pitter-patter.

Leven shoved Auriga ahead of him as they got off the lift, arriving in the reception area for the Durai Palace Prison, the Gold Knight Thu'ban showing the riikarra where to go, his face drawn and pale. "This way, General," he gestured. He felt like the whole world had been pulled out from under his feet. What was it for? To protect a woman who'd plunged Durai into chaos? None of it seemed to matter, really. And, what were the Gold Knights, anyway? People like Cygnus and Fomalhaut? It was so different than when Vega had been their leader, and now Thu'ban's former captain was praying for the survival of his daughter. Inside, he was also praying for Rigel's safety. He'd always been very fond of Vega, who'd known about his past affair with Rastaban and kept silent. Who was now as much a Witch as the man who was fighting Deirdre to the death.

"There are magical wards set up within the cells," Thu'ban explained wearily. "So, he won't be able to cast spells, even if he can get the collar off. We can put Nebula beside him for now, or elsewhere, if you want." The cells here were all currently empty. The prisoners lately had all been going to Sku'lava for Fomalhaut's 'experimentations'.

"Probably elsewhere," Leven commented, watching as the Gold Knight took a set of keys from a cupboard in the wall. "Though, it's not like she technically did anything wrong. All you were doing was your duty as Knights."

"Was Fomalhaut doing her duty when she cursed that child?" Thu'ban asked bitterly. "What's he saying, anyhow?"

"Gibberish," Leven muttered. Auriga was murmuring incoherently, but Leven's good hearing did pick up one word amongst the broken, nonsensical syllables. 'Papa'. Over and over again, in his moment of weakness, Auriga called for his long-dead father.

"This one should do," Thu'ban pointed at an empty cell after they'd come down a wide, concrete staircase. He suddenly stopped, a hellish stench suddenly filling the deathly quiet hallway. Leven also turned around, his sense of smell only on par with a human. But, it was too late to react when they saw Fomalhaut standing at the foot of the stairs. Leven was blown backwards by an ugly, powerful curse wall. Curses didn't work especially well on riikarra, and Fomalhaut wasn't skilled enough to make it so, but the force of the magic was still strong enough to hurt Leven, whose great bulk when flying backwards into Thu'ban, who'd been protected from the majority of the curse by the riikarra blocking it. Auriga toppled to the ground, feeling the curse fly close to him, hot like fire. He rolled onto his back, and slowly struggled to his feet, the room spinning wildly. Blood was caked on his face and robes, making them stiff. Leven and Thu'ban both fell unconscious from the curse, Thu'ban's arm burning under his gold armour like he'd been hit with acid where Leven's body hadn't blocked the spell.

"My love!" Fomalhaut breathed, breaking the shackles off his arms and legs. She grabbed his hand, and pulled him close, kissing his bloodied face. "Oh, I was so worried." She looked into his black and hazel eyes, which were glassy. She teleported them away, and they were outside Sku'lava Gallows. She'd wanted to go directly inside, but was unused to teleportation, and had used up so much energy already just teleporting away from the throne room, and then into the prison.

"The collar…" Auriga breathed, turning his head to vomit.

"Oh, of course!" Fomalhaut put down her sword, and put her fingers around Auriga's throat, pushing magic into the collar, so it broke away from his neck like an eggshell, clattering to the ground, the sound muffled under the loud thunder that shook the black skies. "There. Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't help you earlier. I was just waiting for them to bring you away from the throne room, Auriga my darling."

"Quite alright," he hissed, rising to his feet. He heavily leaned on the sword, using it like a cane. Though still very weak, magic flooding back into his body helped stabilize him. He gave her a loving smile, and touched the good side of her face. A great clap of thunder suddenly broke across the sky, and shook the ground. Fomalhaut looked up at the black sky, and then felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She looked back down and saw her own sword buried in her stomach, slipped between two seams in her armour. One of the few weak spots. She panted as she saw blood dribbling from between the seams, and around the blade where it penetrated her body. She felt tears splash on her face, and onto her armour with audible plunks, but then there were more and more, and she realized it was coming from the sky. Rain.

She looked up in surprise at Auriga, and saw that his bloodied face was an emotionless mask, any affection now coldly absent.

"M… My love?" She asked, confused. She groaned as he twisted the blade. It hellishly scraped against he armour, the skies now opening up, turning into a dismal grey, fat raindrops coming down in heavy sheets. "My love?"

"You aren't my love," Auriga murmured, twisting the sword again. She whimpered in pain, but it wasn't just from the blade in her gut. It was the pain in her chest at the unfeeling, uncaring look in his eyes. "Hurt's doesn't it?" He asked cruelly, twisting the blade again, pushing it a little deeper. "I could have just decapitated you, but consider this payback." He then viciously pulled the blade out, and she felt her intestines burping forth from the wound, balling up within her armour.

"Wh… why?" She asked desperately. He'd touched her. He'd really touched her. And, he hadn't recoiled. "I… though… I thought…" Blood bubbled from her half-rotten lips as she fell to her knees, rivets of water racing down the planes of her gold armour, soaking her ginger red hair. The first time she'd ever felt rain in her life. It mingled with the tears falling from her eyes.

Auriga glared down at her. No fondness. No amusement. He wiped her sword clean on his robes, looking up to the grey skies, the rain cleaning the blood off his face. Even though he was regaining his balance and senses, he still felt hollow and blind, and his mind ached at the loss of his great gift. His body thrummed with hatred for Dheneb, and the desire for revenge for this horribly permanent injury. The rain told him that Deirdre's control over the land was broken, but nothing more than that. Was she still alive? Was Dheneb? Or, were they both dead? He knew not. And, what of Piper…? He wanted nothing more than to go up to the castle and find Dheneb and make him suffer like he'd never suffered in his life before, but he knew he was in no condition to do so. He still couldn't quickly move his head, and pain and weakness was going to overtake him. He began to prepare for teleportation, but found that his injury made the world seem like it'd been flipped on its magical axis. What little magical control he had was going to be burned up trying to get away. He moaned in pain as his body disappeared from Sku'lava, Talia's feeble moaning and calling of his name ringing in his ears. When he was able to teleport, it felt like he was ripping his body apart limb from limb, leaving part of himself behind.

Talia looked at the dimming spot where Auriga had been standing, feeling like a fool. He hadn't given her a second glance as he teleported away, leaving her laying on the ground of Sku'lava Gallows, her victims impaled high above, as if looking down on her, watching her bleed out into her armour as she died.

As Rastaban continued to minister to Rigel, he felt the great thunder shudder the elvish glass, then heard the pitter-patter of rain beginning to hit the domes high above. Then a great deluge of pregnant drops of water. He felt the threads of life around a great magic shatter and die. But, he couldn't tell if it had been Dheneb or Deirdre.

"Oh, Gods!" Kikimora exclaimed, looking up to the sky. It was bleak and grey and the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The last time she'd seen rain in Durai had been forty years ago, and it had only been a pathetic drizzle. Nothing like this. She could hear gasps of wonder from the soldiers and elves. Even Bella and Florian briefly looked up from their daughter to see the amazing sight. Rain. Rain in Durai!

All across the continent, people cried out in disbelief at the sight of water falling from the sky. People cried the name of Lii, falling to their knees. Even more ran out from their houses, and from Temples where they'd been huddling in fearful prayer. They spread their arms out and danced, many running for the gatehouses that led out of their cities so they could feel the rain on their skin. People in Clathe went to the long unused docks, and saw the ocean looked quite peaceful compared to the high, angry waves that had smashed the Durai shores for decades. Excited ursa fisher people dived right into the sea, whooping and screaming with joy, joined by humans who jumped in even still fully dressed. In Mandaran, where the elvish glass had collapsed over the Temple of Magdalena, people stood under the hole in the dome, letting the water pour down on them, opening their mouths to taste the miracle. Even Rhulia Desmond came tentatively out of her house, laughing through her tears as she came to the Temple's courtyard, and felt the droplets, cold and wonderful against her outstretched hands.

"What does it mean?" Piper asked quietly, not as moved by the rain, as he'd seen it frequently.

"I can't… I can't feel anything…" Salius murmured, going to the double doors. The Tsiiva he'd been with was now under a magical sleep, his lidless eyes covered by a torn piece of fabric from his robes, tied like a sleeping mask.

"I'll go up!" Kikimora exclaimed, jumping to her feet and running to the door. She felt cold fear in herself, even with the wondrous rain falling loudly. What if Dheneb…? No, she didn't even want to think it.

"I'll… go first," Salius said, putting a gentle hand on Kikimora's shoulder. She looked up at him with her almond-shaped brown eyes, and nodded slowly.

"Be careful," she murmured seriously, reaching up and covering his hand with her own. They both looked over their shoulder to Rastaban, who was still chanting over Rigel. They could tell that he wanted desperately to run up to see if Dheneb was okay. Orchid crouched behind him, and firmly gripped his shoulders in support and friendship, not letting go.

Salius transformed his body into that of a great white tiger, leaving his white robes behind. Kikimora opened the doors for him, and he went running up the stairs. He couldn't see, even in animal form, but as he climbed the staircase, he could feel a dull magical signature behind the door. He reared up on his tiger body's hind legs, and placed his massive front paws against the door that blocked his way. It pushed open, and he could only see one weak, warm aura.

"Kikimora!" He called through his tiger's mouth, hearing her light footsteps coming closer, smelling the lavender and freshly cut grass scent of her as she ran past.

"Dheneb!" She cried, seeing Wezn pumping his joined hands against Dheneb's breastbone, then covering his son's mouth with his own, trying to breathe life into him. She saw tears on the Reverend's cheeks, and he let out a sob of frustration as he again listened for a heartbeat. "One, two, three, four, five…" He counted, pumping Dheneb's chest again. He pushed a lungful of air into Dheneb again, and gasped when Dheneb coughed against him, feebly gasping for air.

"Dheneb!" Kikimora cried weakly, arriving at where his prone body lay. Salius ran over to Deirdre, and sniffed at her body. "Dead…" He murmured, his gentle voice incongruous compared to the majestic bulk of his tiger guise. She looked up into Wezn's face, amazed at the look of pure relief there, his face so much like Dheneb's.

Dheneb's eyes slowly, wearily opened. He'd used up so much magical energy that his irises were peridot green, his body unable to keep the fire of his eyes burning. His whole body ached, and he could still hear Deirdre's wind echoing, ringing in his ears. He looked up in confusion, seeing his own face staring down at him. A tear splashed down on his face from the reflection of his own eyes. But, then he saw the greying tinge to the auburn hair, the crow's feet around pale green eyes. His father's eyes. He looked up at Wezn in confusion, his brow knitting together. "Papa…?" He asked quietly.

Wezn could only nod. It reminded him of the gentle, tearful way Dheneb had exclaimed that word in one of the few moments Wezn had ever had contact with his young child, when he'd gotten out of his locked room, and begged forgiveness for wandering around the house.

Dheneb panted and tried to find his voice, but he was just too weak to be able to form words, to be able to ask why his father was there. He suddenly jerked, and tried to sit up, but could only manage to stir weakly. His breath quickened dramatically in his fear.

"What's wrong?" Kikimora asked, briefly looking behind her as Salius sniffed along the wall in his blindness, using his animal form's sense of smell to find the staircase so he could go back down to the throne room and tell Rastaban and the others that Dheneb was alive, and Deirdre dead.

"It's okay," Wezn assured gently, hesitantly reaching up and brushing a damp, sweaty lock of hair off Dheneb's forehead. "She's dead."

Dheneb once more opened his mouth to speak, but just couldn't. His eyelids felt as heavy as the rest of his body, but he still tried desperately to speak. To ask about Rhys. Was he okay? He could feel his voice rising up in his throat, but he never knew if he was able to say anything, because he slipped into unconsciousness first.

Wezn looked down at Dheneb's sleeping face. Like his own face long ago, before Dheneb had even been born. He thought he'd been doing the right thing, turning away his own child. Even in sleep, he thought he could see the heaviness of such an isolated life across Dheneb's features. Or, maybe it was just a projection of his own guilt.

Kikimora remained silent, watching Wezn cradle Dheneb. Though she'd always had harsh feelings towards the Reverend, she couldn't think ill of him at a moment like that. She gently reached up with tiny, slender fingers, and flowed magic across the metal collar around Wezn's neck. The magic-dampening device hinged apart, and clattered to the marble floor. She looked up to the domed ceiling of Deirdre's private chambers, her pointed ears pricked up to the sound of the rain beating down on the elvish glass.

"What of Rastaban?"

"Hmmm?" Kikimora asked, cocking her head. She'd been so enamoured with the miraculous drumming of the rain that she was surprised by the hoarse, quiet sound of Wezn's voice.

"Dheneb asked for Rastaban just before he… fell asleep. What of him?" He looked up, peridot eyes showing exhaustion. He moved his fingers across a gash on the back of Dheneb's hand. Now that the anti-magic collar was gone, he could heal any gashes that still bled, though the wound on his chest would need more evasive medical care.

"He's okay," Kikimora answered.

"Even after what happened in Mandaran?"

"I suppose a gift like regeneration helped in that case, Reverend. He's tending to Bella's daughter right now."

"Princess Rigel?" Wezn asked. "Is she dead?"

"I guess she's not a Princess anymore," said Kikimora, looking over her slight shoulder to where Deirdre lay, the large pool of blood thickening around her. "But, Fomalhaut cursed her. With the Sanguine Curse. Rastaban's trying to undo the damage."

"How can such viciousness exist in one single woman?" He shook his head bitterly. "Though, am I really any more saintly than she is? I knew people tried to curse Dheneb when he was a child. They were always pitiful curses done by amateurs, but curses all the same. Against my child. And, I did nothing. I despised him. And, I'm looking down at a face that was once my own, when I was his age, and he's a stranger to me."

"But, you saved his life. And, you're here now. That counts. And, I know he's happy that you were here, and that you're safe."

Kikimora's words, which were meant to be a comfort, only made Wezn feel worse, knowing he didn't deserve such kindness on his son's behalf.

"I think I've done all I can," Rastaban finally said. His voice was parched and raw from the ceaseless muttering of counter-curses, each of which had burned his throat like bile. He had Rigel's body cradled in his arms, amazed at how tiny she seemed. Her skin was clammy and grey, and her breathing shallow, but steady.

Bella let out a shaky sigh of relief, feeling Florian squeeze her shoulder hard. "Can… can I hold her?"

"Not yet," Rastaban said gently, trying not to be callous. "I just want to make sure she's stable."

Both parents just nodded in complete agreement, though they looked anguished.

"Orchid, help me up."

Orchid's strong hands helped pull Rastaban to his feet. His newly healed body felt about to crumble under the great magical strain he'd just put it through. His skin felt cracked and parched, and only his fear for Rigel, and his great worry for Dheneb, kept him upright. He looked over his shoulder when he felt Salius's magical presence returning, still in his animal form.

"She… Deirdre's…. she's dead," came his wispy, uncertain voice. He changed back into human form, and started blindly groping for his robes to cover his nudity. One of the Durai soldiers who'd stayed behind helped him dress. Salius couldn't see the anguished worry on Rastaban's face, but he could feel it in the vibrations of his magical aura, as black as Salius's was white. "Dheneb… he's alive. Lucky… lucky his father… was there to… save his life."

"Thank Anessirra," Piper whispered.

"Kikimora… and his father… are with him."

"You should speak over the Communicards," Orchid stated to Florian, voice as blunt and emotionless as ever, though her hard, diamond eyes did show great relief.

"Sir Rastaban! Sir Vega!" A voice called from the outer hall. Mdibi came running into the room. She'd left to deliver Nebula to the Palace prison cells. "Leven and Sir Thu'ban have been injured. Auriga is missing."

"Missing?" Piper echoed sharply before anyone else could react. "But… he could barely move." The large pool of blood left by the killing of Auriga's telepathy was still a bright red smear on the floor.

"They appear to have been hit by a curse wall. Mizar and some of the Black Knights are tending to them. Fomalhaut must have emancipated him."

"Goddess be damned," Orchid hissed. "Are they alive?"

"Riikarra are strong against curses," Mdibi answered with a touch of pride in her deep, hissing voice. "Leven was hit full-force by the wall, so he actually protected Thu'ban from most of the attack, though one of his arms is in dire shape."

Orchid gestured to a pair of elves that were still in the room. "We have to find her. She's not skilled at teleportation, so she wouldn't get far, especially not if she was carrying Auriga with her. Teleport us to Sku'lava."

"You think she'd really go back there?" Bella asked dully.

"It would probably have the greatest magical energy for her, and the greatest familiarity," answered Florian, stealing looks to the sleeping girl in Rastaban's arms. "And, if she was weak, that might be the only place she could feel."

"Be careful!" Bella exclaimed as Orchid and the elves teleported away. Her old frien