Perrim stumbled through the doors of the Steward's manor as Nepherani helped carry him. The head manservant appeared in apparent shock. “Lord Adjudicator!”

  “Get me to a bed! Now!” Perrim bellowed, spurring the head servant to lead them up the stairs and into a chamber.

  His feet dragged as Nepherani pulled him along. He hissed as a sharp sting shot through his back when she laid him down on the bed. The head manservant bowed and quickly exited.

  Nepherani turned to an Inquisitor, her voice snapping. “What are you waiting for, Allio! Heal our Adjudicator!”

  Allio rushed forward and channeled Life Essence into him. A soothing burn settled over him as he bit back another hiss.

  “Worry not, Uncle,” Nepherani said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “That mortal shall pay with his life once the Divine Lord learns of this.”

  He slapped her hand away upon hearing that. “No! Do not inform the Divine Lord of my failure today! Understand?”

  Nepherani recoiled at his rebuke before bowing. “As you will it, Adjudicator.”

  He turned to the rest of his Inquisitors. “Understood?”

  They all saluted by slamming their right fists onto their chests and bowing. “As you will it, Adjudicator!”

  Content with their fealty, he closed his eyes as Allio's Life Essence repaired his damaged body. Silence fell over him as his Inquisitors stood by, waiting for him.

  June’s face appeared in the inky blackness of his mind, and a searing rage swelled from within him, encompassing him. How had such a lowly creature bested him? The mere thought of it drove him mad.

  But there was no point in succumbing to his fury. Doing so would only ensure his demise. It pained him to admit it, but he needed to act with more guile and deception in order to take down this opponent. His customary tactic of brute force hadn’t turned out so great.

  “Nepherani.”

  She knelt beside the bed, her head held low.

  “Yes, Adjudicator.”

  “Fetch that little Steward. I need to arrange a meeting with his father.”

  “As you command, Adjudicator.”

  Nepherani rose and left with two Inquisitors as he retreated into himself.

  June Mikkelson. I swear by the Divine Mother. You will rue the day you crossed me!

  Ashtar threw his cup of wine in a fit of rage. It shattered into tiny shards of glass before falling to scatter on the stone floor of his Guild House.

  “What do you mean they’re missing!”

  Eirilla flinched at his words. “There was no one there. Not even the children.”

  He rose from his seat at the head of the table and backhanded the little whore. She flew a short distance away to crash into a side table. He stalked over to where she lay in a crumpled heap and kicked her in the midsection, causing her to release a sharp gasp.

  “Did I stutter, bitch! Where are they?”

  He kicked her again, knocking the wind from her once more. “Well?”

  Eirilla struggled to her knees, tears flowing from her eyes and blood dripping from her mouth. “I… don’t… know.”

  He kicked her once more in the chest, sending her rolling across the chamber. “Useless! Ungrateful little wretch who can’t even complete a single task, let alone please a man!”

  He stomped past her prone form and the lavish long table stacked with food to the wooden double doors and pulled them wide open. “Lucrecious! Gather the boys! We’ve got a situation on our hands!”

  As Guild Master of the Reavers Guild, he could not let a slight against them go unpunished. Whoever dared meddle in their affairs would pay dearly with their lives.

  The doors across from his chambers flew open, and Lucrecious and his Guild members flowed out into the hallway. “Boss?”

  “It seems like our boys who went to retrieve today’s inventory are missing.”

  Lucrecious and the rest of his men’s faces darkened.

  “Aint nobody gonna mess wit us and get away wit it!” Lucrecious shouted, raising the sword that appeared in his hand.

  His men all pulled their weapons from their storage devices and threw their arms high, roaring in unison. “Death to them!”

  He nodded approvingly. “Let's go get these bastards!”

  However, before they could even take a step, the entire building rattled, and dust from the ceiling coated them in a light layer.

  “Wat was dat?” Lucrecious asked, staring up at the ceiling.

  Ashtar’s face turned into the frozen wastelands of the undead empire of the north as he stared at his men. “It seems like they’ve come to find us.”

  His men stared at him blankly, not having understood what he meant. “Well? What are you waiting for? We’re under attack! Go! Kill those who think they can stand against the might of the Reavers Guild!”

  His men roused to action as they bellowed out a war cry, charging down the hallway towards the stairs that led upstairs.

  The roar of the Reavers Guild members roused Eirilla from the blackness of unconsciousness. She hissed before coughing, racking her body with spasms from the multiple broken bones she had sustained from Ashtar’s wanton beating.

  Everything hurt, yet she opened her eyes in time to find the members of the Reavers Guild rushing down the hall towards the stairs. Ashtar stood there, watching his men before turning to look at her, a disgusted look on his face as if he were staring at a piece of trash. To him, he probably was, and she certainly felt like one.

  She cursed the day she had ever thought it’d be better to move from her little village out in the country into the city. Her parents had warned her against moving here, saying that it was too dangerous and unscrupulous.

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  Yet she believed she knew better. It was her life to live, not theirs.

  However, reality rudely slapped her across the face. City life wasn’t as luxurious as the traders and travelers had described. Instead, her? life was one of scrounging for scraps in the slums. Then came the day she was done with it all and turned to a life of crime.

  It turned out that she was an exceptional thief. Her deft ability to get in and out of places undetected had led her to a very enriching life. It only emboldened her, raising her arrogance to the point of no return. That was what led to her downfall.

  That was what led her to this life, chained to the Reavers Guild, to Ashtar as nothing more than a petty thief and a bed warmer for him and his men.

  She had fought back that first night, but being only in the Awakened Realm, she had only earned herself a beating. What proceeded that night has forever haunted her, scarred her until the day she’d die. Now she did all they asked of her to avoid anything like that from ever happening again.

  If only she had listened to her parents all those cycles ago, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. But she was young and naive. A foolish little girl who believed she could make something of herself in the big city.

  She stared disdainfully at Ashtar, wishing death upon him. Then, to her utter shock, Ashtar exploded into a red mist of blood and viscera. The remnants of his bloody remains splattered onto the ground in a wet squelch, painting the walls and floor red. Her shuddering breath caught in her throat as the clack, clack, clack of a single pair of footsteps slowly approached the chamber she lay in.

  There was nothing she could do but accept her fate as a petite woman with pink hair turned the corner of the doorway and entered the chamber. She had never ?seen someone as beautiful and strange in all her life. Had this Aelthor of death come to deliver her from her cruel existence?

  She closed her eyes and waited, but death never came. Instead, a warm sensation enveloped her. She yelped in pain as her bones reset themselves before a musical voice spoke to her. “Everything is going to be okay now.”

  She opened her eyes to find the pink-haired woman gazing down at her with kindness and care. She wasn’t an Aelthor of death. Correction, the woman was. She had witnessed just how easily the woman had killed Ashtar and presumably the rest of the Reavers Guild.

  But that wasn’t all. The woman was also an Aelthor of life. A woman who had risen to the heights of power, where no one could ever hold a candle to her. A woman? she aspired to be.

  She pushed herself up and stared at this majestic person, only able to ask a single question. “Who are you?”

  Ravengel marched down the opulent hall of the palace, seething in quiet rage. How dare that man show his face around here? But that wasn’t the main issue at hand. How had he arrived at Lystrum so quickly and remained undetected? Just who was June?

  “Was that not the man you warned us about, Lord Dumar?” Lady Hemilthorne asked, stepping up to walk beside him.

  “Yes,” he groused, his voice frozen like the tundra wastelands to the north.

  “Was he not supposed to be in Revelcroft? What’s he doing here?”

  He came to a stop and spun to face her. “Judging by his actions in the Council Chambers, he means to meddle in our scheme, Contessa! Why don’t you use that little head of yours to think instead of dreaming of beautiful finery and silken wares!”

  The ?Council members trailing them stopped in his wake as his thunderous voice echoed through the hall, which could have awakened the dead. Yet Lady Hemilthorne remained as dignified as ever.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. To let such a man of low birth rile you up. How unbecoming of you, Lord Dumar.”

  The smug smile that followed her words enraged him even more. He wanted nothing more than to smack it off her face. But that would only lend credence to her statement. He was a noble of Lysia, not a drunken peasant at a tavern cursing his lot in life. No, he was more than that. He was Lord Ravengel Dumar, patriarch of House Dumar and head of the Council of Lysia! He was above ?her petty insults to his pride.

  Taking a moment, he collected himself, schooling his face back to that of a regal man. “You are correct. That was unbecoming of me. Forgive my unsightly behavior.”

  He offered her a slight bow before turning and continuing down the hall. The click-clack of her heels signaled her acceptance of his apology, and the group traveled to a more private chamber. It was their secret chamber, where they deliberated on how to eliminate the royal family and seize power as the new rulers of Lysia.

  They each took their seats as Ravengel stood at the head of the long table. He gazed at the faces of his allies, his coconspirators in this coup d'état for the throne. All he found were dignified nobles hidden behind their masks of indifference.

  But he knew better. His gaze pierced right through their masks, down to their fear and uncertainty. He scoffed at it, at them. Their convictions faltered so easily over such a tiny, pathetic excuse for a man. It truly showed? their incompetence. They were nothing more than tools for him to use and extract until their usefulness waned. When that time came, he’d dispose of them, just like the late King and Prince.

  “This is but a minor setback,” he said, projecting an image of control. It was what this assemblage expected ?of him.

  However, Lord Carvender slammed a fist against the table before rising. “A minor setback! How are we meant to rule if none of us is seated upon the throne?”

  He glared at Lord Carvender, his anger seeping out through his Aura. “Take your seat, Lord Carvender.”

  Lord Carvender’s Aura flared out in retaliation, and they clashed in the center of the room. The rest of the nobles rose, their Auras flaring out to shield themselves as they backed away. Unfortunately for Lord Carvender, Ravengel’s Aura outclassed and overpowered his. He forced Lord Carvender’s Aura back before forcing the man to his knees.

  “Lord Carvender. Please rein in your anger, else I’ll have to remove you from the Council. Permanently.”

  Sweat covered Lord Carvender’s face as he struggled under the pressure of his Aura. Lord Cavender’s defiant gaze soon turned to submission before giving a single nod. Only then did Ravengel release him.

  He turned his attention away from Lord Carvender, who fell onto all fours and coughed up a storm, back to his Council. “Take your seats. We’ve much to discuss regarding June and Princess Estrella.”

  The other Council members looked warily at each other until Lady Hemilthorne took her seat and the rest followed her lead. Just as he was about to continue, one of his communication crystals vibrated from within his storage device. His eyes narrowed, having realized which one it was. He pulled it out, confirming it was a call from Garn, and channeled his Essence into it. The crystal glowed a dull blue as the connection formed, and he telepathically roared.

  It better be urgent, son!

  However, to his surprise, it wasn’t his son’s voice that came through from the telepathic connection. Instead, it was one he hadn’t recognized.

  Are you the seed-bearer of the spawn who owns this communication crystal?

  The way the man had just addressed him and his son as if they were nothing but dirt enraged him.

  Who are you to speak to me in such a way! I am Lord Dumar, and you shall address me as such!

  The answer that came from the other end literally froze his blood like the coming of a new winter.

  I am an Adjudicator sent by the Divine Lord! I will address you how I see fit, mortal!

  He instinctively fell to his knees despite the Adjudicator not being present in the room. His mind raced for a way out, but there was nothing he could do or say that would undo what had already happened. Only death would appease an Adjudicator for his offense.

  Forgive my transgression, Lord Adjudicator. I did not mean to offend. If there’s anything I can do to expunge my folly, name it, and I shall do as you command.

  The connection went silent for a moment before the Adjudicator’s laugh echoed in his mind.

  Good. I need you here in Revelcroft tonight. There are some… things we need to discuss.

  His mind emptied itself for a moment as if someone had just taken over his mind before he came to his senses. Before he gave his reply, though, he dared ask a witless question.

  Would you be so kind as to inform this lowly one what matter this concerns?

  Silence met his question.

  Just when he was about to respond, the Adjudicator’s voice came through.

  It is a matter concerning the one named June. Are you familiar with the cretin?

  A malicious smile slowly formed on his face.

  I am Lord Adjudicator. I shall be there within the hour.

  His communication crystal then stopped glowing as the Adjudicator ended the connection.

  “Who was that?” Lady Hemilthorne asked, pulling him back to the present.

  He quickly rose to his feet and straightened out his suit jacket, his smile still as wide as ever. “That… was the answer to our problems.”