Dissonance: Firestar, #3

By David Harrell

In the Stony Realm, the worth of a man was measured by the size of his account and his relationship to it. Pious or agnostic, virtuous or vicious, ethical or otherwise, the scales of the economy had but one dichotomy. One was either valuable or worthless. Everyone from the richest merchants and their whispering advisors to the poorest beggars and the vermin they lived with understood this system. They lived under it, bargained from within it, and though many were sacrificed for it, not everyone agreed with it.

 

The winds of change were blowing, and what was once a pleasant breeze transformed into a raging tempest. Militias grumbled with discontent over the terms of their contracts, and the powers of the realm, still reeling from the drain of the war, squeezed as much as they could from the denizens. The transactional nature of their relationships became a focal point of contention, and then there was news from the north. The Great Destroyer was loose in the world.

 

Investors placed their bets, and the wealthy built what hedges they could against potential losses. Friends became acquaintances, competitors became adversaries, and the companies they employed remained as tools for their self-centered avarice. The name of the game became survival of the fittest. Such was the state of the realm, but this was a game the Destroyer had no interest in playing. The once great Commonwealth of Associated Interests incurred a debt, and the time had come to collect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Harrell
• Release date: Mar 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9798223796213

Book preview

Chapter 1

Omened

OF ALL THINGS held sacred in the Stony Realm, there were none more revered than the purchasing power of currency. Men, women, and the idols they held lived and died by its flow. Businesses, interests, and the lines that divided them were arranged by its availability. Unrest came as a result of its scarcity and complacency at its abundant ubiquity. In the Stony Realm, it was the coin that reigned as deity, king, and judge over all who possessed it, and those not comforted by its deceptive embrace were often abused by those who held it. Those who fought for it died for it, and those who fought against it often died as well, but despite the procession of time and all the events it brought in its wake, the struggle continued on. The Magic War did nothing to change this.

The Saline Realm, a region sitting atop the Stony Realm’s northern border, attracted the ire of the united forces of the Aural, Hollow, and Burning Realms due to her existence and use of a force known as magic. The opposing realms cited the practice as an affront to all things natural, and after an engagement between the Salians and the Firans of the Burning Realm, there was war. The Commonwealth of Associated Interests, however, saw no immediate profit in joining the crusade of the united realms, and for fifty years, they kept their distance from the conflict though many kept an eye on its development. There then arose a conflict within the realm between a hidden illusionist and a diplomat of the most prominent and influential interest in the region. The implications of what was uncovered and the conclusions drawn by those investigating the affair turned the minds of many, but most of the details were immediately locked away in secrecy, and their rediscovery was hindered by misdirection, mysterious whispers, and lies. The Salian High Elders, leaders of the land, denied all involvement, and they immediately sought ways to mend the situation through reparations and offers, but none of them were heeded. For those in power in the Commonwealth, to side or even show sympathy to the Salians was unfavorable, but more than this, many among them saw an opportunity for gain. It was not long before word of the incident reached the Aural Realm, and though the two realms shared no common interest in each other, the war had not gone as well as they wished. With bitter indignation, the Alliance of Kings asked the Commonwealth to join the allied realms, and the interests decided to set aside their differences and join in the battle, but their assistance was not without a price.

The Commonwealth of the Stony Realm did not have a united military, for the interests had grown to maintain their own forces that were distinct and separate from the others. Some held greater renown than others, and some were particularly suited to special tasks due to their history and location. None of them were free. It was thus the burden of the other realms to form contracts with the varying interests though guidance was provided on which groups would be the most suitable for the needed tasks. Of the initial members of the alliance, the Aural Realm was the most accommodating but only because they had to be, and the Firans of the Burning Realm, though resistant, soon acquiesced to the terms. The Hollow Realm, however, refused to deal with the Commonwealth and would make no arrangements with them for the entirety of the conflict.

As time marched forward, the war dragged on, and experience hardened many of those who returned from their contracts. The contracts themselves even became a method of testing for those seeking work and influence in the world. Subjects who lived often brought what they learned in their travels back to the greater market, but differences in the economic viability of that knowledge created a rift among the common people of the realm. Anything of practical and monetary value was gladly assimilated and exploited by the larger culture of power, but those differing from the prevailing paradigm were cast off as unusable refuse. For many, this was a moment of awakening, a time to reform the longstanding moral deficiencies in the greater society. For the rest, it was merely business and an opportunity to refine all of its associated practices. The first group fell into bitterness as they were ridiculed and thrown into society’s background while the second rose to prominence, became wealthy, and continued to guide the prevailing schools of thought. The seeds of revolution were thus sown, but it would be many years before any of them were allowed to sprout.

In the ensuing decades, many in the Stony Realm expressed fatigue over the war and its lack of progress, but those in power and those attached to them were profiting too much to disengage from the struggle. The reclusive leaders of the Frozen Realm then threw their aid to the allies, but they were mainly supportive in their role, and the Stony Realm had little contact with their agents. The kings of the Aural Realm then turned their attention to the nation of Taurus in the Silent Realm, and over the course of ten years, many were sent to negotiate terms for an alliance. The Saline Realm was also known to have engaged in talks with the Silent Realm, and many wondered with bated breath over who the nation would favor. Though largely known in the other realms for their intellect and wealth of knowledge, their technological advancements were by far the most prized of all their assets. The Commonwealth of the Stony Realm was even jealous for the talents they would bring, and after an incident between the Taurens and the Salians, the Silent Realm threw their support behind the allies.

With six of the realms united against the central position of the Saline Realm, victory appeared not only certain but soon in its arrival. Nevertheless, the economic leaders of the Commonwealth wasted no time in setting up arrangements with the Taurens. There were geological obstacles to overcome. The northern territory of the Saline Realm was too hostile to trade through, and the Hollow Realm, despite the agreement of their southern neighbors in the Aural Realm, would not cooperate with the Stony Realm in any way. It then became necessary to add the Burning Realm to the arrangement, and with secure passage established between the Commonwealth, the Firans, and the Taurens, the three realms enjoyed a sometimes troubled but lucrative exchange of services and goods.

In the years that followed, the Saline Realm began to crumble as her losses grew and her borders receded. Many in the Commonwealth even discussed plans of expansion into the lands they stood poised to acquire, but the powers of magic had not yet been fully exercised by the Salians, and the united realms slowly realized this as the pace of conquests slowed to a crawl. Terrible figures of power had grown on the Salian’s side of the battlefield, and the contracts drawn against these juggernauts were proving to not only be impractical but costly. Many years passed, progress ground to a halt, and the war with the Salians once again came to a stalemate, a logistical impossibility in the minds of many but a reality they were nevertheless forced to face. As new angles of advantage were sought in light of these circumstances, the interests of the Commonwealth discussed how they would proceed. A few suggested pulling out of the war, but there were still many who wished to continue on. Those who had been thrust into the background whispered their growing discontent and continued to be ignored, but the concerns of everyone were greatly intensified at the reception of grievous news from the north. The Tauren’s capital city of Cilica had been annihilated.

All hostilities against the Saline Realm ceased, and as the realms reassessed their positions, a flood of contracts swept over the interests for any information concerning what occurred and how. Spies, long dispatched, were tapped with increased frequency, but with no survivors of the event, there was little more to gather than periphery information. Though understood to be the feat of an extremely powerful Salian, the identity and location of the figure had become a closely guarded secret, and after ten years of searching, the Firans became impatient and amassed their forces for a great invasion. Word immediately came to the Stony Realm of a detachment of Salians sent to greet them, and it was rumored that the destroyer of Silica was among them. A courier was dispatched to warn the Firans of this, but he was delayed, and upon arriving at the gathering site, he quickly realized that it was far too late. In place of the reported sea of forces was a vast landscape full of newly erected pillars and immolated corpses. There were few still alive among the dead, and the courier questioned them asking, What the hell happened?

Of those still left with the will to speak, only one managed to provide an answer. It…it destroyed us. That thing came, and it destroyed us all.

What destroyed you?

The broken Firan lowered his head and sobbed into his hands. A beast. A beast did this to us, and there was little else to be gathered from the man. The Salian detachment had already departed from the field, and because there was no sign of the two forces ever meeting, the courier could only conclude from the Firan’s testimony that a single figure wiped out the entire force of the Firan’s Burning Legion. The Burning Realm withdrew from the war after this, and the tide of losses that followed for the allies could scarcely be stemmed.

With trade disrupted and the economic well-being of the Commonwealth suffering with every defeat, many rose up in protest to the war and the motivations that drew the realm into it. Even so, there were still men in power who believed the situation could be salvaged, But something has got be done about whoever killed those Firans. Indeed, the Great Destroyer, as he came to be known, had turned into the Saline Realm’s greatest war asset. Many were sent from the remaining members of the allied realms to locate and eliminate him, but he was once again kept in a state of dormancy by his superiors, and his movements were held in highest secrecy. The interests then worked in greater concert with each other and began passing contracts among themselves to devise a way of entrapping and removing the threat, but the Destroyer appeared once more and released his violence against the powers of the Frozen Realm. Before the other realms could react, their support ally had been broken, and like the Burning Realm before them, the elusive leaders withdrew themselves and their land from the conflict.

Desperation settled into the minds of the remaining realms, and broad attacks were launched against the Saline leadership, but the interests of the Stony Realm continued to focus their efforts on baiting and destroying the Great Destroyer. After years of planning and investment, a great number of Salians were captured in combat and taken away to a desolate valley. There, they were put to work and made to construct an elaborate trap out of the landscape. With the plans and ingenuity of the Taurens, practical engineering of the commonwealth, and craftsmanship of several disenchanted Firans at work, those involved believed themselves secure in their ability to finally pacify the greatest threat to their efforts, but it would all be revealed as another form of self-delusion.

With their plans laid and the main body of their handiwork hidden, a rumor was seeded in the Saline Realm of a great weapon being prepared by the Commonwealth. Through embellishment and deceit, they even implied magic had been a major component of the construct’s function thanks to their cooperative captives. The secrets of magic and how to use it, after all, were zealously guarded by the Salians, and many stories had been recorded of rogue artisans who were hunted down and incinerated by Salia’s shadow agents, the Shades. The story was so greatly exaggerated in fact that some even wondered whether the Great Destroyer would arrive, but a watchman arrived from the north end of the field and declared, Someone’s coming, but…, and the watchman grimaced, he’s just a kid!

There were multiple companies involved in the snare, and the leading commanders of the factions could not believe what they heard. What do you mean he’s just a kid?

I mean what I said. I mean…just look at him!

A figure then slowly emerged on the horizon, and the militiamen of the Stony Realm took notice. He was a young man by appearance with a clear, dark complexion, and he was clothed in a black cloak befitting his station as a Salian infiltrator. A band was tied around his neck, but despite his youthful exterior, his eyes were cold, bitter, and without compassion, and his gait was that of a man primed to destroy anyone in his path.

The commanders were surprised. Is that it? one of them said. Is that supposed to be the Great Destroyer? I was expecting something a lot bigger. And armored.

Same here, said another. And what’s with him being a spook? Is this some kind of a joke?

I don’t like jokes, a third added, but joke or not, we need to get ready just in case. Round up the prisoners, and make sure everyone’s prepared to engage.

The order was given, and the militiamen placed the captives in the center of the valley and surrounded them. A visual decoy was situated behind them on a large platform, but the massive frame it contained was covered by a grand shroud that was tied down. As they settled, the dark figure steadily approached, his stride never slowing. When he was but a few feet from them, he stopped.

A little confident, aren’t we? the commander said.

But the young man said nothing in reply.

Are you him? Are you the Great Destroyer?

After turning his eyes to survey the field, the young man answered, I already know this is a trap. He then turned to face his enemies. And I know there’s no weapon here.

You’re sure of that?

The young man crossed his arms. I’m sure.

Then what do you think is going to happen here?

I think I’m going to have to kill you and everyone else here with you. He then nodded to the prisoners and said, Them too if they gave away any secrets.

They didn’t have anything we could use. Hell, they didn’t have many secrets at all, but I’m having a really hard time believing you’re him. Destroyer of the Burning Legion? Creator of the Frozen Wastes? The Reaper of Cilica?

I don’t care how many titles you throw at me. Are you going to let them go or not?

I bet I could reach over and strike you down right now.

Try it.

He is a bit confident, a second commander remarked. I think it’s best we keep our distance from this guy. Even if he’s not the Destroyer, a Salian shade is still nothing to mess with up close.

I’ve killed shades before, said the first. They’re weaker than Salia’s adepts and even worse at ranged attacks than their casters. They’re really good for nothing except scouting and assassinations. Shades don’t scare me.

The young shade looked skyward and said, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I do to them, am I?

Bah, the commander said with a wave of his hand. You’re either a cocky scout who thinks he’s going to casually walk away from this or an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into, and I don’t have the patience to find out which it is.

Fine by me, and the shade separated his arms. I was done talking anyway.

Kill the prisoners, the commander ordered. They’re useless now, and we don’t need them.

But the shade spoke in warning. Don’t do that.

The commander was curious about the shade’s concern and asked, Why not? If the Saline Realm is going to waste my time sending a kid to do a man’s job, then I might as well let them know that we in the Commonwealth don’t take kindly to bad jokes.

The militiamen raised their swords, but a sudden change in the wind swept over the field, and it carried upon its currents an ominous and dark spirit. The young man’s eyes flashed between their natural color and red, and he said, If you think I’m going to be a kid when I cut your damn heads off, then you’re an idiot, and he drew a pair of crescent-edged daggers from underneath his cloak. I won’t warn you again. Let them go.

The commanders drew their weapons, and some of the militiamen behind them carried crossbows and aimed them at the figure. You don’t seem to recognize the angles we have against you, boy. You’re surrounded, you’re in our territory, and even if you are the Great Destroyer, we’ve got something prepared for him, so don’t think you can threaten me. You’ve got nothing to bargain with.

The young man prepared to step forward, but his eyes darted downward in remembrance, and he stopped as knowledge of the terrain seized him.

The commander took note and for a moment was struck with even greater curiosity. He then shook his head. No. No, no, no. You couldn’t possibly have known…no.

The shade looked forward.

The commander then raised his hand and said, Send the signal.

Now? another questioned.

Now.

Alright, and the second commander drew a flare gun from his person, a courtesy of the Silent Realm, and fired it into the air. The brilliant trail of light could be seen for several leagues, and on the outer perimeter of the field, several horns were blown. A multitude of men then rose from the ground out of hidden tunnels and ditches in the earth. Many held wires in their hand that were tied to buried traps in the ground, but their formation was broken by a broad path, the same path walked by the dark-skinned figure before them.

What happened?

A few of the militiamen who emerged from the earth checked the hidden positions of their comrades and found them gored by spikes that had torn through their bodies. They’re dead! they answered.

The commander then turned his attention to the shade in front of him. How?

But the dark-skinned young man focused his attention and answered, You should know by the stories you’ve heard of me that I don’t give my enemies advantages. This really is the last time I say this. Withdraw your men, and let them go.

Are you serious? How many times have we taken prisoners during this war? I mean, really? Your superiors didn’t actually expect you to bring anyone home when they sent you, did they? They couldn’t have.

But there was no answer.

The commander was then struck by a realization. They just sent you to wipe out whatever was over here. It was never about the captives, was it? That’s your thing.

There was again no answer.

Huh. That’s too bad, and the commander signaled with his hand to execute the deed.

The captive Salians were immediately killed, and the dark-skinned shade stood in a state of desperation and anger.

The commander was intrigued. You really should’ve expected this, and what’s with the reaction? I’d have thought you’d be used to seeing people die right in front of you.

But the shade’s eyes immediately vanished behind a veil of red, and he declared with dark intonations, That was your last mistake. The grounds of the valley then trembled, and particles of dust rose in the expanding aura of the young man’s will. The commanders stepped back and ordered the militiamen to fire, but many were so shaken and fearful of the sight that they were unable to comply. The leading commander then snatched a crossbow from one of their hands and turned to fire on the figure, but the projectile was deflected by a protective barrier that altered the bolt’s trajectory. Undaunted, the commander then raised his sword and rushed forward to strike but stopped as an unseen will seized control of his body. The young man tilted his head, and the commander was made to tilt his as well, but when the shade tilted his head in the other direction, the commander’s was forced to fatally twist in place, and his lifeless body fell to the ground. Frightened, the remaining commanders stepped even further back, but the revealed creature they unwittingly unleashed shouted and said, You’re all dead!

Only a few were capable of standing to fight at that moment, but all were slaughtered without mercy, and as they were burned, broken, and impaled by the Great Destroyer’s relentless attacks, those on the outer perimeter of the field signaled to those still in waiting to prepare the great trap they laid.

Several men disappeared once more beneath the earth as those engaged on the surface attempted to do so from a distance. The wires held by many were pulled revealing a multitude of varied and deadly snares, but the Destroyer, his will already pressed deep into the earth, was aware of their positions, and he darted around the obstacles as he switched from one target to another. Walls of barbed metal rose from the ground to impede his path, but he launched himself skyward on a platform of rising stone and struck at those on the other side when he landed. A sequence of bladed scythes glided across the surface towards his position, but a turning in the earth broke their paths and rendered them useless. A hail of bolts, arrows, and pellets rained towards him from a distance, but a shielding dome of stone was quickly erected over him nullifying their effectiveness. Finally, the men quickly placed masks over their faces, and a sulfurous, chemical smoke rose from several pores that were made in the ground. Generated by machines designed by the Taurens with a deadly brew concocted by their alchemists, the mist crept across the surface and threatened to overtake the Destroyer in their suffocating plume. Wind spiraled around the Destroyer as he attempted to keep the cloud from consuming him, but the air in the immediate area would soon be saturated, and knowing this, the militia retreated into the underground tunnels to wait for what they believed would be an inevitable demise. Their fate sealed, the Destroyer recalled the expanse of his will to himself and pressed it deeply into the ground directly beneath him. The earth then swelled and rose in a grand, bulbous formation until much of the valley itself was elevated from its previous position. Men desperately crawled out of the collapsing tunnels as the machinery that powered the noxious fumes were dislodged from their positions and flowed through the burrows, and they emerged to find themselves standing upon an ever-expanding hillside. The surface mist descended down the slopes, but the Destroyer’s work was not yet finished as a dark and ominous nature whispered terrible words through his mind. Let none survive, and the veil over his eyes darkened. An aura of power swept over the surface, and those standing upon it were gripped by tendrils of stone and pulled deeper into the earth. The great mound was compacted downward and dipped below the surface of the area around it. The ground hardened beneath the Destroyer, and its density increased crushing any and all who were under it, and by the time his work was finished, a large crater was formed in the valley of snares. In accordance with the desire of his will, there was no one who survived the encounter, and when his eyes and state returned to normal, he turned to silence, and the sky began to rain.

Portions of men dotted the surface, and the earth, devoid of room, bled with the blood of those compacted within her. Twisted shards of sharpened metal accented the bowl of misery, and the toxic mist, now diluted by the falling waters, skimmed the surface and seeped into whatever openings could be found. The Great Destroyer remained motionless for several moments before he turned his head upwards and remembered the captives that had been killed. Not one, he uttered aloud, and he turned his eyes back to the ground. I couldn’t even save one. His response and complaint, seemingly unanswered, fell to the wayside of his thoughts, and his capacity for tears was temporarily suspended. The mission given to him was thoroughly completed, and he left in silence and returned to his superiors.

Several days would pass with nary a word from the location, and when it was discovered what the Great Destroyer had done, the Stony Realm wept for its losses. The site of his visitation then came to be known as the Crater of Bones, and every contract drafted for the Great Destroyer was immediately terminated.

Despite the losses, the war lasted another thirty years following the event and was marked by endless squabbling, depression, and fear in its final phases. The Aural Realm was the sole region left without scar by the Great Destroyer’s wrath, and when surrender was agreed upon and offered to the Salians, the two-century-long Magic War finally ended. Those who held power in the Commonwealth saw generations of effort wasted, and the seeds of revolution began to sprout. The realm entered a new period of fragility marked by social discontent, economic troubles, and increasing disunity, but an ancient organization hidden in shadow worked to keep the region of interests from collapsing. Unfortunately, this same organization came under the notice and ire of the Great Destroyer, and after a short season of peace since the end of the war, Darrio Deloran, Firestar of the Saline Realm, returned with the intent of removing every trace of their existence from the face of the earth.

Much had occurred before Darrio arrived in the realm. As an object of fear, he was exiled from the very nation he served. As a subject of terror, he turned the entire nation of Firans against the organization he was pursuing. As a figure of scorn, he damaged many in his pursuit of the enemy, but the memories of what he lost continued to motivate his deadly ambitions. After crossing the border dividing the Burning Realm and the Stony Realm, he abandoned the Firan caravan he was hiding in and trekked further east across the landscape alone, and for days, he walked unimpeded thinking only of the past and the events that brought him into the region. He then approached the valley where the Crater of Bones was located, and when he reached the outer edge of the steep descent, he stopped. After several periods of silence, his heart groaned within him, and his mind vividly caused him to relive every moment of the event. When his thoughts finally cleared, Darrio lowered his body to the dust and sat, and he neither moved nor spoke until night descended over the area. Seemingly alone, he remembered the face of a little blind girl he encountered some time after the war ended. Her name was Saria, and her young, empathetic smile hung in the foreground of his mind. He then remembered what became of her. Not one, he uttered to himself. Not even her.

Swirls of darkness materialized out of the air behind him, and emerging from their mist strolled a young man with black hair, black clothes, and a black glove on his right hand. A sword dangled from his left side, and he was known to Darrio as Shyo, the Night Bearer. Shyo stopped a few feet away from Darrio and said, It sure is quiet here, isn’t it?

But Darrio did not respond. Though he had been aided by the Night Bearer prior to this latest arrival, he did not yet trust the man. Knowledge of who Shyo worked for provided no relief as well, and Darrio at first attempted to ignore him.

What did you come here for? Shyo asked.

To think, Darrio answered annoyed. What do you want?

What do you think I want? I’m here to check on you.

Darrio shook his head.

So you let it loose again, huh?

Though not facing the Night Bearer, Darrio diverted his eyes and said nothing.

You didn’t have to, you know. There was another way to handle things back there.

You think I don’t know that?

I do, but I’m not saying it because you don’t know. I’m saying it because you’ll forget it if I don’t.

Darrio encountered an impersonator during his travels in the Burning Realm and unleashed the darkest and most dangerous aspect of his being to combat the man. It had yet to be contained again, and though Darrio knew it would become an issue, he was not yet willing to address it.

Don’t forget what I told you back there, okay? It still stands.

Go away, Darrio answered.

Shyo crossed his arms and said, I sure hope you don’t get as stubborn as he did.

Darrio did not know who Shyo was referring to but nevertheless asked, Why?

Because you’re the last person I want to have to deal with. With the implications of that statement resting in the silence that followed, Shyo turned around and said, Don’t forget what I said. Darkness then enveloped his form, and he vanished from sight as it dissipated.

Alone, Darrio only briefly remembered the words Shyo had spoken in the Burning Realm. He doesn’t hate you, but Darrio did not yet believe this. He instead looked up and asked, Then why did you bring me here? but without an answer, he could only turn his mind and attention back to the massive pit that was before him. His mind briefly stirred over the resolutions he made, and his heart began to doubt the path he chose to tread upon, but Darrio quickly shook his head and uttered, I can’t worry about that now, and without provocation or inducement, his eyes briefly flickered between red and their natural color. This was an unprecedented occurrence. Something was changing within him, but it was something he was not yet aware of, and in ignorance, he stated, I can’t, and stood to his feet. He had marked a location in his mind and decided to waste no more time in getting there. I can’t stop, he said as he began his march. Not until every last one is dead.

As Darrio continued his trek, another mind, one familiar and held in high esteem by him, turned with travailing over a multitude of subjects, and like the Destroyer’s, his too became haunted by ghosts of the past. The owner of it was a High General of the Saline Realm named Seris, a silver-haired man who was once Darrio’s captain and guardian. Commonly marked by his peers as obscure, cunning, and intelligent, these traits proved to be invaluable during the campaigns of the Magic War and even before its start when he would implement his schemes and intelligence on the fields of battle. His agile mind and even-tempered demeanor carried him and those with him through many tumultuous times, but recent events and a change in direction exacted new tolls on his once impregnable state.

A revelation came to him in the form of Abaddon, a seemingly vacant subordinate who had long been a confidant to Seris’ secret plans and a co-conspirator to his most recent ambitions. Throughout the entire term of the Magic War, he worked alongside Seris in silent submission, and though there were many anomalies known of Abaddon, he composed himself as a subject of no concern. It was not until the discovery of the Shadow Casters that his mannerisms drew Seris’ attention.

The Shadow Casters, as they were known, were an ancient organization versed in the use of dark magic whose known ambitions threatened the state of creation. Seris suspected a distant and perhaps buried relationship between Abaddon and the newly discovered group but kept his suspicions silent until Darrio’s exile. After this, he confronted the man, and Abaddon, though hesitant at first, disclosed both himself and his ambitions to the High General. The knowledge changed things, and Seris had yet to resolve all of what it implied.

Since then, his mind had been restless, and an old issue once again rose to take prominence at the center of his troubles. His own history, he realized, was beginning to repeat itself, but as he analyzed every detail and meaning of all he knew, he had yet to find a suitable answer to his ultimate query. What else did he miss? A plain and unremarkable grave was at the focal point of his imagination, and the implications of what erected it kept Seris within its grasp. It haunted him during the skirmishes before the Magic War, but after the events that followed it, Seris thought the matter to be buried and resolved. The nature of what he was involved in and the revelations of Abaddon, however, resurrected the issue, and he once again found himself questioning his own judgment.

A knock at Seris’ office door interrupted his flow of thoughts, and Seris was forced to lay the matter aside. Come in, he said.

High General Turil, a noble man and Seris’ once closest friend, entered the room. Seris? Why are you still here? The meeting has already begun, and the High Elders are getting impatient.

I know, Seris answered.

Did you not get the summons?

I received it.

And yet you did not come in time.

Seris was quiet.

Does something concern you? Is it the boy again?

Turil was referring to Darrio, but Seris shook his head.

Is it your plot?

Seris remained quiet and again shook his head.

Turil was concerned by this. The Firestar, a Salian title given to the Great Destroyer following the end of the war, and Seris’ own affairs were the only things Turil was aware of that plagued Seris in recent memory. Nevertheless, he said, Then it can wait until after the meeting. If you wish, you may even tell me about it afterward.

Seris looked up. Much occurred between him and the honor-bound general since the war, for Seris had wounded Turil in the advancement of his schemes. Because of this, he asked, Would you still endeavor to speak with me, Turil?

I did not give up on you during the war, Seris. I will not give up on you now.

Seris looked away, and his mind pondered once again.

Turil sighed. Please do not fall again into thought, Seris, not now. Come before Tiberius decides to extract my head as well.

Turil left, and a brief moment later, Seris rose to his feet and proceeded to leave his office in the Hall of Order. His mind continued to turn, however, even after his feet carried him onto the white stone streets of Ambrosia. The capital city of the Saline Realm had seen better days, and the history of every citizen and event that transpired within her could still be felt, but the location had lately taken on a more industrial spirit. Nearly everyone was hard at work during the day contributing what they could towards the effort of destroying the Firestar. Seris was even encouraged by the people since they came to place a measure of faith in his reputation as a strategist and his ability to execute whatever scheme he had in mind, conventional and otherwise. After all, the High Elders charged him with the task of cornering and executing the exiled destroyer, and though some knew of the general’s history with the subject, they still believed him capable of doing whatever needed to be done. His recent acquisition of the Burning Realm as allies to aid in this quest was surely evidence of this, and he had yet to display any clear indications of ulterior motives or weakness of will. This was of no comfort to Seris, however, for they did not know his true intentions, and Turil, though he suspected much, did not know the full extent of Seris’ designs. Seris’ most loyal agents, whose allegiances were primarily to Seris alone, were the sole benefactors of knowledge regarding his will and intentions, and though most of them reaffirmed their commitment to him after his last revelation, he did not yet fully trust them in everything. There was one in particular he still awaited word from and whose judgment he continued to value, but many days had gone by in silence, and Seris was concerned. He would have to speak with the man soon.

Abaddon waited for Seris at the entrance to the Grand Hall, the great administrative building from which the Saline councils conducted their affairs. You are late, he said.

I had much to consider, Seris answered.

They continue to debate the division of your priorities. Do you intend to continue this trend?

Only to the end that I seek.

Then you must know they will argue against you.

Even this is to my advantage. Are you prepared?

I am.

Then let us go.

The two entered the building and proceeded to the audience chamber where an impatient council of High Elders sat in wait. Elder Tiberius, the most seasoned and experienced of all the elders in Salia, was particularly troubled. Why did you not come the moment you were summoned? he asked. Do you have knowledge already of what this meeting is about?

I do not, Seris answered, but he considered it altogether unimportant. He could not afford to underestimate the High Elders, but there was little they could do to alter his plans aside from delay them. Seris was an exceedingly patient man, and he was flexible enough to use whatever devices were placed against him.

We were coming to a final judgment on what to do about your proposal, Tiberius continued.

And what have you decided?

We want you to stay focused on eliminating the Firestar.

And the Shadow Casters?

Tiberius groaned. We cannot ignore the testimony given of them, but we do not want your attention divided. High General Turil?

Yes? Turil answered.

I understand that despite our express wishes, you still pursued knowledge of the Shadow Casters during your trial with the Firans in the Burning Realm.

Turil nodded and smiled. Then the insubordinate ones I left behind have returned.

Would you still pursue them now?

I would.

Then you will lead the charge against them apart from Seris, but your operational capacity will remain limited. I also wish to state explicitly that this council will be watching the both of you very closely from now on.

Understood, Turil answered, and Seris nodded.

Now, Seris. I understand there is something new you wish to present to us.

Yes, Seris answered, but first, I must inform you of the progress made regarding the supplies to be sent into the Burning Realm.

Go on.

The initial shipment has been completed, and everything has been inscribed with a unique script provided by Abaddon to the artisans. It is even embedded into the very function of the empowering elements. To remove it would render the arms useless beyond their most basic function. If the Firans should turn them against us, a special command will dissolve the scripts entirely.

Yes, Tiberius said with curiosity. An artisan approached me about this. He said it was unlike any they had seen before. ‘A difficult-to-comprehend work of brilliance,’ he said. Where did you acquire such a thing?

My subordinate, Tam, encountered scripted items of foreign design during his gathering in the Burning Realm. They were articles of the Shadow Casters.

He acquired samples, I gather.

He had not. Nevertheless, Seris answered, We applied what we were able.

Who interpreted it?

Abaddon.

And how did he recognize what it does?

Abaddon answered, Its construction was familiar to me.

How? Were you ever an artisan?

Abaddon narrowed his eyes. Yes.

And you say you recognized its construction. Have you ever constructed such a script before?

Am I under suspicion?

Indeed, Tiberius the