Date: October 15, 2000 (Aether: March 30, 3907)
Place: Entrance Foyer, Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven
Cast: Cassius, Kedar, Khalid, Shahar
Scene: The God-King of the Varati vents his wrath upon the murderer of one of his Clan, Kiral Khalida, as it is at last exposed that Cassius Augustin was the perpetrator and the force behind Kyklos. But the Aegian's death is not the only execution to take place in the throne room this eve, for the "Lioness" of Khalida makes a fatal choice between her God and the man who avenged her.

Entrance Foyer - Atesh-Gah - Haven:
      The entranceway to Atesh-Gah is a marvel of Varati architecture and art; a half-dome rising from the earth to the heavens, appearing as if solid stone and seemingly made without reinforcing supports. It is but a shell of smooth, solid rock, made unbreakable by a combination of shaping and ingenuity. A long flight of stairs leads up toward the double doors of the throne room, while a smaller door down below and to the right leads to the back hallway.
      The massive space is acoustically sound, carrying each gurgle of crystal water from the central fountain throughout the entire room. Four couches of rich royal blue upholstery surround the fountain, providing a resting place for any who would wish to sit and speak; though the edge of the fountain itself may function in a similar fashion. Flecks and veins of bright gold streak through the pale marble of the walls, leading the eye ever up... until a breath-taking sight catches the eye. Above all else in the room stands Ashur Masad, the Lord of the ever-rising Sun, and father to Khalid Atar. Surrounding the glorious sun-lord is a vast mural of his son's accomplishments, a millennium and a half of legendary history.

It is a somber figure awaiting the Empyrean ambassador in the daunting environs of Atesh-Gah's entry hall. Enveloped in black and flanked by Khalida guards and a quartet of Agni-Haidar, the woman in sheafs of concealing ebony cloth peers out expectantly and remains, to the naked eye, impassive and aloof.

The Khalida guards, knowing nothing particularly amiss but sensing a degree of tension, are watchful for the winged apparition that shall visit shortly; the Agni-Haidar glower. That, after all, is their job.

The great doors are drawn open by a pair of the black-garbed sentinels without, and framed within them is a winged figure who looks strikingly out of place in this formidable embassy of cold stone. Garbed in his customary white, with only splashes of color in the forms of the purple 'clavus' embroidering his chiton, and the royal-blue pallium draped from shoulder to hip, Cassius Augustin clearly belongs to another world.

He is tall for his own race, but beside the imposing Agni-Haidar who move in to flank him on either side, his height is unremarkable. And though he is by no means aged or infirm, his lean build cannot match the powerful physiques of his stoic-faced guards. And if his clothing, his build, and his fair coloring did not differentiate him enough from the Varati who dwell here, those silver-white wings folded against his spine are the final degree of separation between his kind and theirs.

He steps into the grand foyer of Atesh-Gah, and his ice-pale eyes immediately stray toward the somber figure in black. "Shakir, ave," he greets, with a courteous inclination of his head.

"Namaste, Ambassador and Dominus," returns the Lioness of Khalida in the purring resonance of her natural speaking voice; it has returned to its lustre from time before her captivity. Gravity, however, has shadowed her features past the sculpting frame of her ebony locks, and the mood only accentuates the reality that her recovery is not yet full.

For a moment her eyes, feline and golden green, find the Empyrean's icy regard and hold it, with silent commentary, silent wishes, offered in the course of a heartbeat's worth of time, then she turns to lead the procession into the throne room. He knows why he is here. She knows what they may face. Delays are useless.

Solemnly, Cassius moves forward to fall into step behind the Shakir of Khalida. He knows that he is to meet with the God-King -- presumably to discuss the fate of Avalon. He brought no Schola with him this time -- no other Aegians or advisors. There is only himself. And he walks into that throne room with a certain amount of uneasiness, as he composes speeches in his head, but no fear.

No need for fear from Cassius. Shahar's apprehensions are enough for two.

Shahar ascends the stairs which lead to the sturdy double doors of the throne room.

[Throne Room - Atesh-Gah - Haven]

Statues of cruel obsidian, Khalid's Agni-Haidar warriors, push open the doors for the Lioness of Khalida and the Deus of House Augustus. The throne room is a haven for a false night, a starless night. Darkness reigns in the foreboding chamber, a reflection of the God's foul and ominous mood in the wake of the Maharani's departure.

Flames dance on the wicks of candles clustered about the room, but that faint light does little to pierce the blackness. At best it, casts a golden hue upon the stone thrones resting in the room's center. Upon one of these sits the God-King, his own ebon features melting into the darkness that surrounds him as if a shroud. But eyes can be seen. Cold and blue, they gaze from beneath brows brooding and stern -- gaze at the supplicants invading his solace.

As is protocol in the presence of their master, the room is filled with Agni-Haidar on guard. Almost fifty of them must be lined against the wall. They look grim as they watch every corner of the room, the floor and ceiling, their hands on their falcares, or on drawn, readied crossbows. Their presence alone should make every potential enemy quiver in fear, but it doesn't exactly lift the spirits of the atmosphere.

Upon the dais, two more Janizars are standing besides the throne of the God-King as a personal protection, ready to interfere should anything out of order happen. Not that Khalid wouldn't be able to deal with any danger by himself, but they always serve as an additional breathing arm and shield.

Arman, a lean soldier of perhaps thirty winters, shifts his loaded crossbow with his stern gaze to and fro, always coming back to the entrance gate. At the other side of the throne, separated by the kindling fire, stands a figure smaller than most present, yet not less dangerous. Kedar, still a youth by any standards, keeps a calm and composed stance, one hand gripping his weapon. His gaze is not as stern as those of his brethren or his god, but not any less watchful.

Eight Khalida guards flank their Shakir, whose body, tall and lissome like a willowy tree, is shrouded in the black of mourning since she emerged, at last, after the recent conflicts were done. Behind her, accompanying the pristine, pale figure of the Empyre's Ambassador to the Varati, is a quartet of Agni-Haidar, perhaps the four most often assigned to guard Shahar. The famed Lioness of Khalida pads forward with care scarring her usual grace; she is still not fully herself after her dire illness, and it would not do to tumble before her God-King. Thus she approaches, in a stately manner, until within distance to prostrate herself to the throne and the Might upon it.

Cassius has not the attitude of a supplicant. He does not enter now as he did some three years ago, at the close of the war -- not full of anxiety and fear, try as he might to hide it. To be sure, there is still wariness in him -- one could not go before a self-proclaimed God who had pulled a volcano out of the earth without that, at least -- unless he were an utter fool. But Cassius is not here to beg for his life, and his spine is straight as he steps into the throne room behind the Shakir of Clan Khalida.

He came alone, this time -- or at least, with no other representatives of his race. Not even a single Schola, whose duty it is to guard the Emperor and the Aegis from any threat. He must not have assumed he was in danger, and that his position alone -- as Ambassador to the Varati nation -- protected him.

While Shahar prostrates herself before her God and King, Cassius bows solemnly from the waist, as is customary among his own people. He does, at least, use a more traditional Varati greeting. "Namaste, Amir-al," he says, courteously.

The hands of the God, spilling over the throne's armrests, flex restlessly when Cassius approaches. Brows already stern furrow in naked displeasure of the supplicant before him. Wrath bubbles over into the words that follow, words that cleave the air as if a thunderbolt. "Cassius Augustin..." the name is spoken with disgust, "...my daughter says you come to Atesh-Gah in the hope of finding safety from your tormentor." Fingers clench the throne's rests as if to crush them, and the Hawk of Heaven uses this purchase to push himself to his feet. The living shadow looms large, menacing.

Most of the elder Agni-Haidar have seen Cassius already a number of times in this room. At one point, he was nothing more than a naraki, and while he holds no such position or attitude now, they have not forgotten. And this time, he comes alone, without any other winged warriors or advisors. Perhaps wisely so.

Kedar, on the other hand, has never seen the Aegian before, his experience with Empyreans mostly stems from the lectures at Masada. A curiosity about the meekness, politeness and civilized behavior of this weak, winged creature. Despite the apparent harmlessness of Cassius, the focus of the soldiers remain upon him, watching every one of his moves silently. Khalid's actions, on the other hand, are taken in with little concern. They are used to the dominating presence of the Amir-al as well as the force of his voice, after all.

A shiver courses through the flattened figure of the Shakir, but as she faces the floor she murmurs, "Your pardon, o Flame whose might warms my very soul, but it is not the Ambassador's request that brings him here, but my own. He faces threats against himself, against his family and heir, and for the service he has offered our people as Ambassador, through the ... amity I have gained with him, as I have strived to learn of the Empyre since your marriage," very gingerly put, that, "I ask that you consider helping him. The idea is not his, but mine."

At Khalid Atar's words, a line of puzzlement had bisected Cassius's brow, hinting that the Amir-al's statement was evidently news to him. He'd straightened slowly from his bow, wings rustling at his back, and turned a curious, wary gaze upon the prone Shakir of Khalida.

As she speaks, his frown grows more pronounced, and his eyes shoot back and forth from Shahar to Khalid. It is the latter whom he addresses, as is fitting given the God-King's position of authority.

"Amir-al," he says, in that same courteous tone -- though it holds an edge of displeasure, "I believe there is some misunderstanding. I assumed this audience pertained to Avalon, and that is why I am here. For no other reason. I must politely decline the Shakir's generous offer, with all due respect."

Khalid descends from the dais slowly, as if stalking. The almost Empyrean blue of the God's eyes seize upon the Deus in a grasp ruthlessly crushing in its intensity. A previously idle hand plucks a sinuous whip from his belt. He lets the tail fall to the floor, where it slithers venomously, aggravated by a restless Master. The viperous length scrapes against the stone as it moves. Unconscious is Khalid of the false serpent, so comfortable is he with its touch.

Words wrought from the forge of Khalid's voice reach for Cassius once again. "I do not understand my daughter's interest in your safety... but perhaps that is a question for another time." Khalid tears his gaze away from Cassius and rewards Shahar with a neutral stare before venturing further, "...a time that will come soon."

Blue eyes find the Deus again, their touch cruel and malicious, "...Do you know who your tormentor is, Augustus?"

Cassius's gaze falls to the whip. He'd been whipped once here, for his transgressions while he served as a naraki slave. Whipped by the Shakir's own decree, in fact. He still bears the scars on his back, hidden beneath the fine clothing of a nobleman. So he watches that serpentine tip slither across the ground, and if Khalid wanted to make him uneasy, he succeeds, though the evidence is slight. A muscle tics in the Aegian's jaw as he clenches his teeth.

Yet he is still polite as he glances up to meet the God-King's crystal blue gaze with his ice-cold one. "That is nothing with which a God-King need concern himself, Amir-al. A ruler who presides over the lives of millions should have little care for the troubles of a single Empyrean."

Avalon. Like there is anything to be said about that piece of land. Like any Empyrean has anything to say about it. The Neverending Fire has spoken that any clan may claim it, and so be it. Perhaps it does take the whip's touch to make that foolish old, winged man understand. Cassius should be grateful to receive such a lesson, before more of his kind will die under the falcares of Kedar's brothers. The short Janizar makes a step to the side, to allow his master a free rein upon the Aegian. The grip on his own blade tightens slightly -- in case Cassius decides to dare and resist the lesson he has to learn.

Shahar's face is still against the cool obsidian, blessed by the marble that helps dissuade her skin from bursting into flame. Eyes close, ears open wholly to what goes on about her, and her back, with its supple, slender line and spine, is as taut as a bowstring about to issue a bolt. She scarcely dares to breathe.

Khalid's powerful strides carry him around the Deus, stalking. Behind him trails the whip. It thrashes restlessly, lusting for prey to strike. The violent slithering eventually finds Cassius -- the diamond tip brushing the Empyrean's foot, but again, Khalid seems unconscious of the weapon's malicious gestures. His attention lingers wholly upon Cassius, yet he manages a few words toward Shahar.

"Rise my daughter... for I wish you to hear this as well..." The viperous length of leather fails to pause, it coils ceaselessly. "Augustus, I am concerned. I know what it is like to lose one of my family. You will remember, not so long ago, that a man of my Clan, Kiral, was slain by Kyklos..."

On the floor, caught in the process of removing her cheek from the obsidian, Shahar freezes as if her blood had iced over, as if some master mage had commanded her sinews to transform to stone. She could not command those traitorous muscles to elevate herself if she tried, not now. A wash of fear, brutally cold, ensures she remains kneeling on the floor while her eyes flash toward Cassius. If her breaths were tormentingly irregular before, they cease entirely now.

Cassius's gaze had lowered to the floor to follow the trailing line of the whip. Subtly, he'd shifted position, edging his foot minutely away from the leathery touch, the way one might avoid the brush of a spider's legs. He'd been too engrossed by that to hear the God-King's words... until the last.

The Aegian's eyes snap up toward Khalid, and his breath, for a fleeting moment, is arrested. Fair features grow paler, and that ice-hued gaze then switches toward the Shakir, just as her gaze meets his. For a suspended moment, he only stares at her, seized by the same paralysis that holds her in thrall -- not even his silver-white wings, as light as Khalid's are dark, stir. Then, with a swallow that betrays him, he murmurs quietly, "I remember."

Shahar senses: Cassius knows. The mystery is resolved. He knows who is behind his cousin's murder and the threats to his son. And in his gaze is an unspoken plea, visible to none but you. In a rare moment, Cassius has found reason to pray... that you did not tell Khalid Atar what you knew.

And the murderer was never found. A deed against one of the highest officials has gone unpunished. The shame is still standing, both as a mark against the clan and the Agni-Haidar. Yet they are fearless fighters and warriors, nearly unbeatable in direct combat, but unable to move against an invisible, sneaky enemy. Each Agni-Haidar feels the burning pain under Khalid's words, yet none get distracted from their duty. Hard eyes still regard Cassius, awaiting a better explanation than this. Perhaps it is the Empyrean's fault. The soldiers look like they could all need somebody to blame for Kiral's murder.

Cassius senses: Shahar is afraid. Outlandishly, to her very soul, terrified. She is capable of lying, should she desire it. She is able to conceal emotions were it to suit her... but not with you, and not now. Shock blends with her horror, and in an infinitesimal moment, she meets your eyes in stark demonstration of panic.

Khalid continues in his circling stalk until he stands behind Cassius and then those measured footsteps stop, leaving only the rasping of the weapon as it scrapes stone... and soon, that stops also. Silence, brittle and fragile, freezes the scene, and then is shattered when Khalid answers. Cold and cruel are the words that follow.

"I knew you would..." At last the whip strikes, launching itself towards the Deus. The false serpent threatens to wrap its length around the Empyrean's throat.

"NO!" Shahar's scream of outrage, of fear, accompanies her body's explosively energetic return of mobility; she is upon her feet the instant the whip reaches for Cassius, and fear coats that singular note of protestation.

There is no time to react. No time to issue some reply, and certainly no time to evade that strike, had Cassius even seen it coming or possessed the skill to combat it. But he is an Aegian, not a warrior, and the only weapons he ever wielded with any accuracy were words. The whip wraps around his throat and he can only reach up blindly to claw at the leather coil, and his pale visage gradually regains its color -- and then some -- as he finds his breathing constricted. Silver-white wings flare outward in an instinctively defensive move.

Outrage is supplanted by terror and naked apprehension as the whip, which Shahar envisioned cracking against that sinewy back and pale wings, twines about Cassius' throat, and she furthers her abbreviated word of contest by imploring, "Amir-al, do not do this, I beg of you, release him, please... he came here without guard, as a guest, not as prisoner. It is not the same as before, please... please..."

Kedar has expected this, perhaps even seen it coming. The reaction of the Aegian, or lack thereof, was also expected, but that alone does not release the guard's wariness. He is here to step in and strike should any resistance be offered to the God-King. His daughter's feeble, begging words ignored, no sign of resistance is shown. Yet.

The whip, now an embodiment of the God's wrath, grows taut as Khalid jerks back violently. The blue of the King's eyes melt, dissolving into the blazing fire that eclipses it -- a window into the immortal soul of the Amir-al. Words explode throughout the room, carried upon a venomous and inhuman growl, "But he is here now, daughter, and he will answer for his treachery..." He heaves the Empyrean toward the wall, throwing him, "...or his children will answer."

Cassius cannot draw breath, and his features are flushed red while his eyes water -- not tears, no, unless they were tears of outrage. As the whip grows taut, he stumbles, and as it lashes out, he is flung toward the wall, only to be snapped to a halt when the whip reaches the end of its length. A handy 'leash,' he's on.

He stumbles again, and this time goes down on one knee -- the sign of subservience he did not issue earlier. One hand grabs at the leather rope, while the other still fights to free himself from its confinement, and his broad wings, still powerful though he is past his prime, start to thrash the air in an attempt to, if not free himself, at least make Khalid's 'lesson' more difficult.

"He is here upon my request, Amir-al," Shahar exclaims, reaching for the arm of the man who has called her daughter with such tenderness and who demonstrates no such affectation or affection at present. "Would you make me so dishonored as to have lured him here for such treachery? And who speaks for what I suffered? When I nearly died from my husband's brutality, what of that?" No, she dares much and will, if she is able, cling to the garment of Khalid's sleeve in an effort to cease this madness, this violence.

Can't the damned Empyrean take the lesson as a man? Has he never learned to accept punishment? Angry at the way Cassius struggles and fights awkwardly, Kedar rips his falcare from its sheath. The shining blade, reflecting the gold upon the throne, is still kept low as he makes a few strides forward towards Cassius, a stern gaze upon the man's beating wings. Apparently, this adolescent really expects that a stare of his eyes alone can bring an Aegian and Deus to keep still and bear the will of Khalid and touch of his whip.

The powerful arms of the God jerk the whip viciously, forcing the smaller Empyrean inexorably toward Khalid no matter how hard he fights. What lies at the end of Cassius's leash is pure wrath. Eyes burn with impossible heat, fueled by wrath unending. The severe and cruel features of the God are carved in a mask of malicious vengeance.

"The Kafir's treachery is being repaid in kind, Shahar. No hand but mine slays those of my Clan. That I entertained designs to kill Kiral myself is the only reason this Kafir and his children still live." He pulls Cassius toward him, and when the Aegian is within arm's reach, he growls furious, gaze flaring, "I am your Master now, Augustin."

"THEN WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS RAPED?" Shahar clutches Khalid's vestments, fury in her eyes. She is of the blood of the God-King, and it shows in her fiery stare, in the vehemence of that demanding screech. "Cassius did what my family should have done and did not. To my dishonor. To the dishonor of Khalida. And YOU!" A finger lashes out at Kedar. "Touch him with that blade and you shall regret it for all eternity."

Cassius fights Khalid every step of the way, regardless of Kedar's venomous glare. He fights with what strength he has, though it cannot match that of his opponent. But more, he fights out of pride -- that stubborn, unyielding, damnable pride that has been both a strength and a bane all his life.

He survived nearly three months as a naraki slave because of pride, and he refused to cry out the name of this wrathful being before him when he felt the sting of the lash, out of pride. So even though his battle is a losing one, he fights because pride won't allow him to give Khalid the satisfaction of seeing him kneel willingly, when he is finally brought low at the God-King's feet.

His face is red, his eyes are streaming, his teeth clenched, and he can't even draw breath to speak. But he stares up at Khalid's face with that unflinching pride burning in his gaze, and even Shahar's shout does not draw his attention away.

Kedar meets the anger and screeching of Shahar with a cold-blooded determination. His lips curl in disdain at the outburst of accusation against Khalid, and he replies only in a deep, quiet voice that does not lack intensity. "I do what needs to be done. I do not regret and I do not excuse myself for it."

His stare turns back upon Cassius, this time even harder than before. "You heard the Amir-al, Empyrean! Accept that he is your Master." Or else. The tip of his falcare, still kept low, raises just a touch, to remain leveled at the height of the kneeling man's side.

Khalid's hand grips Cassius' collar, forged by the whip wound round his throat... but Shahar rips the God's attention from his prey, his face still contorted in a mask of rage. Words wrought of fury assail Shahar. "He was your husband, your Master. It is his right to beat his wife. It is your right to declare a diya and elect a Champion to defend your honor. You could have asked me, and I would have slain him for his dishonorable actions. You did not do this. Instead, you asked this Kafir to slay him. A Kafir, Shahar!" Cassius seems forgotten now. "You did not give me a chance to defend your honor... and now you dishonor me by defending this candala..." the anger leaks from his voice, replaced by a tone almost saddened. "I am disappointed, Shahar."

Shahar's glare at Kedar is abbreviated by Khalid's response; she falls back a step, aghast at what she sees, aghast at what she has done, but when a wheel of this magnitude is in motion, what power has she to slow or cease its turning?

"I asked no such thing," she whispers. "I thought what my husband had done was my husband's right. What Cassius did, he did because it was deserved. He did, without being asked, what my father, my brothers should have done, without being asked. A man does not wait for the women of his house to beg for justice. It happens. He is kafir, he is candala, and yet he knows. Why did you not?"

The muscles of the God's jaw clench and teeth threaten gnashing as he casts eyes still blazing with fury upon Shahar. Yet of his voice, he is in full command, speaking with a measure of forced calm. "Your honor is your own responsibility, Shahar. You failed to confide in me, so I could not help you. But it seems you confided in this kafir. You confided in him, but not me, Shahar..."

In reaction, in retaliation, perhaps even in revolt, Shahar hisses, "I was half-dead from loss of blood. I could not move for weeks. What confidence could I have provided, Amir-al, that my condition and the report of the Ushasti women did not state for me?"

Kedar is hardly concerned with the family struggle unfolding in front of his eyes. He has full confidence that the Amir-al can point his daughter back to the right path and convince her that he did the right thing. Why exactly it was right, the Janizar doesn't exactly understand -- family rules and politics were always too complicated for him.

Now that he sees that Cassius is struggling less and his wingbeats have slowed -- and Kedar really doesn't care whether the Empyrean has been given enlightenment or is just too exhausted to keep fighting -- the young warrior rams his falcare back into its sheath and takes a step back. Everything will be in order again. Everything will be as it should be and as the Amir-al wills.

Kneeling upon the floor before Khalid Atar, Cassius had fought to draw breath, to gulp down what lungfuls he could once the whip had slackened slightly. His ice-blue gaze had moved from the Amir-al to the Shakir, and he had remained silent, for indeed, he could not have spoken before now. But though his face is still red, and the whip's coils remain around his throat, he finds enough strength to rasp out the words that had lodged in his throat for so long.

"You... are not... my master," comes his grating voice. "No man... no god on this earth... is my master. And you stand there... and you vent your wrath on me... and on her," his eyes dart to Shahar, "the woman you call 'daughter.' At least... I am aware of my own... hypocrisy, but you, you are blind. You married... an Empyrean noblewoman, and yet you call me 'candala' and 'kafir'... with such venom. You spoke... of peace, and 'building bridges'... and yet you destroyed the treaty that you forged. You promised... to protect and shield your people... and yet you did not protect or shield your own 'daughter.'"

He lets out a rattling, wheezing breath before continuing, and his gaze is fixated on Khalid alone, the object of all his pent-up rage. "Her husband beat her... raped her... left her to die, and you did nothing! And you presume to judge me." With slow deliberation, Cassius pronounces, "You... are... not... a... God. Unless it is a god of lies."

Khalid's fury builds at each word Shahar speaks. Gone is the patience he struggled to maintain with his daughter, incinerated in the fires of immortal wrath. The flames of his gaze rage, casting off a heat searing. When Cassius speaks, there is no tolerance remaining.

The attention of the God turns slowly to the Aegian, locking upon him. The muscles of his hand tighten around the Empyrean's collar like a vice, binding Cassius to his fate as sure as the dishonorable words he spoke. The King's cruel features only grow more so. Lips draw back in a rictus, exposing teeth grinding against one another. A brow once simply brooding is now furrowed in naked fury. Words wrought from a growl sputter forth, "You are no different than those who slew my father... so die now, Kafir!"

The air around the God shimmers, baked by an impossible heat. Khalid feeds that same heat into Cassius, the raging fire of Ashur Masad himself -- enough to incinerate any living being in the space of a breath, leaving only ash.

And so it is that Cassius Silvarius Augustin, Aegian of the Empyre, Deus of House Augustus, ambassador to the Varati... father, husband, brother, son... everything he has ever been in his life, and everything he may still have become.... so it is that he meets his end.

It could be said that he met it bravely, but in truth, he had no time to react. He couldn't even cry out, or beg for mercy, if that had been his inclination. There had been only a moment -- one heartbeat in time -- when his eyes had shifted toward the Shakir of Clan Khalida... Shahar. He'd looked at her when he died.

And then he was burned to ash.

No. This will not be. This CANNOT be. "He did what he did for me, take me, take me!" Shahar implores, all but demands, and hurls herself between the God-King to whom she has sworn her soul and the Empyrean who sought to save it. There is no thought, there is no time; there is only the last brave act of a woman with the heart of a lioness and the fearless, indomitable spirit of the people of the Neverending Flame.

From the figures of Shahar and Cassius erupts a light so brilliant, it fills all corners of the room, blackening every surface and incinerating the tapestries that hang upon the throne room wall. When it disappears, Khalid holds only a handful of ash.

The mask of righteous fury dissolves into one of alarm when he discovers that gone, too, is the Lioness of Khalida. Eyes once forged from flame now are quenched by Empyreal blue. His gaze falls to the small pile of ash that remains of the two. His coarse hand opens, and the remnants of the viperous whip flutter to the floor.

Stunned, Khalid steps back carelessly and almost stumbles. His dark and noble countenance is lost as he wrestles with image of Shahar's figure eclipsed by light and then disappearing forever. The thought leaves him shaken visibly, until after long moments, he finally manages to steel himself.

The shock lingering upon his severe features slowly recoils, soon replaced by the familiar stony visage. Wings of night flutter once to free ash from their feathers. That same ash broils in a cloud all its own, and obscures Khalid's retreat from the room.

FIN  

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