This is late. Extremely late. Extremely bloody late, if I may use the expression. Sorry.

Anyway. Yes, this is my Querencia Quarter Quell Round 4 submission. (If you've read any of my shit for this event before, and you're a writer, and you haven't joined... what are you doing? Go join Querencia. Go.)

Have fun. The prompts were:

Damsel In Distress
Rags to Riches
Powerful (self-interpret)
Strange Magic Powers
Becoming a Fighter (self-interpret)

Yeah. Tyche hates me. Whatever.

Also a disclaimer: This is set in the Final Empire of Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy. If you haven't read the books, this fic will make exactly half as much sense as it would if you have. If you have read them, then know that this happens about a century before the actual trilogy: It's all possible in the contingency of the story.

Thanks. Love you lots. Read and review!

Ash fell from the sky.

Three skaa laborers, working in the southern end of a nobleman's field, glanced at the sun. Barely noon. A good five hours left in the day.

From the trees on the edge of the field strode a man. Wrapped in a black cloak. Masked. Hooded.

'Lord Ruler,' the oldest of the laborers muttered. 'The Angel.'

The other two stared, their mouths widening, as the Angel approached them.

'You,' he said to the oldest. 'What's your name?'

'Crell, my lord,' the skaa said.

'Lead these two, and anyone else you find, away from here.' He looked north, to where the keep stood, stark against the ashmounts in the distance. 'Keep Tresting burns today. And if you stay you will all be blamed. Take every skaa you can gather towards Luthadel.'

'But…' Crell began. The Angel raised an eyebrow. 'My lord… I mean no disrespect… But the keep will burn?'

'Soon. Very soon.'

'When?'

The Angel smiled. 'As soon as I arrive.'

His cape fluttered around him as he flew forty feet into the air, fell back toward the ground, and then shot off through the air toward Keep Tresting.

'Gather your families,' Crell said to the two skaa with him. 'And everyone who'll listen to you. The Angel spoke the truth.'

They hurried away.

Ash fell from the sky.

There had been a capture in the night. That was normal. That was routine, for in Luthadel, when was there ever not a capture?

But to six special people, six empowered people, the capture meant something. They were special. They were Allomancers. Mistings.

Their crew numbered seven, normally. Perce. Jace. Pipes. Anna. Frank. Haze. And Leo.

But Haze had been taken by the guards, and the other six had decided to break her out.

She had no power. She was their coordinator, their planner. She also held them together, though they all considered her as their 'little sister'. She was being held in the keep of House Venture, the house that controlled politics in Luthadel.

And, as they had recently learned, the atium. House Venture carried the atium from the Pits of Hathsin to Luthadel, their convoys holding masses of the precious metal. Enough to enrich every skaa in Luthadel by five thousand times.

House Venture had Haze. House Venture also had the atium. And, as a third and final incentive, House Venture was the power in the senate of lords.

They were going to hit House Venture. It was a mad idea. An insane plan, but an unexpected one. And so they would do it. If not for Haze, for the knowledge that what they were going to do would go down in skaa history as one of the few times a nobleman was hurt.

Perce was a Coinshot. So was Jace. They shielded the rest of the team from projectiles, and would lay down suppressive barrages during any frontal assault – though any frontal assault would be fatal, of course.

Pipes was a Soother. In any situation when they needed smooth talking, or when they needed someone to calm down, she would be there, manipulating emotions and causing general confusion.

Anna was a Tineye. She would be the scout, the eyes. She could see further and hear more than any normal human. She would warn them. Not that a warning would be much good against, say, a Steel Inquisitor, but they liked the feeling that they knew what would be coming.

Frank was a Thug, or Pewterarm. He was strong. And hard to kill. That was all they needed, really. Someone who could hit and take hits while the rest of them found Haze and the atium.

Leo was a Smoker. He kept the rest of them from being noticed by the Inquisitors until the job was over. He was the only reason any of them felt safe at any time, because the Inquisitors and other Mistings couldn't sense their powers.

They were going to hit a house. And hit the house so hard that either the house or themselves would break.

Jace woke up early, the morning of the attack.

'This is stupid,' he said. He rolled over on his mattress. The woolen covered itched, but he closed his eyes tight and tried to think good thoughts. It's all right. Everything's under control. We're just going to raid the Pits of Hathsin… Probably meet a few koloss… An Inquisitor or two…

Damn.

He sat up in bed.

The room was small and sparsely furnished. A wooden chair in the corner, against which rested his longsword. A table in the other corner, bare save for a vial of alcohol solution and metal flakes.

He got up.

'This is pointless,' he said.

The door opened. 'Never pointless, mate,' Perce announced as he walked in, already fully dressed and armed. 'We're gonna get some atium. Kill some noblemen. Get Haze back.'

'Why are you so happy? We're all going to die. The Inquisitors are going to kill us.'

'Keep Tresting burned last night.'

'What?'

'Lord Tresting and all his household, along with every guard in the keep, was found dead yesterday morning. A rider arrived this morning, carrying the news.'

'Lord Ruler,' Jace muttered.

'Indeed. Most people are saying it was the Angel.'

'Whoever that guy is…'

'It's not good for us. All keeps have tightened security. Inquisitors are hunting everywhere trying to find whoever it was. They're concentrating in Luthadel, finding every skaa who worked for Tresting and interrogating them. Come down to breakfast?'

'I guess there's not much else to do.'

'Breakfast, do you mean? Or the raid.'

'Yes.'

They left the room, Jace slipping the vial into his pocket as he passed it.

In the room below, four skaa women had prepared baywraps for the crew. The moment they were out of the room, Perce mimed flipping the table over. 'Baywraps again. These are your kitchen hands, Jace. This is your fault.'

'I think it's the only thing they know how to make.' He picked one up, biting into it. 'They're good, though.'

'For baywraps,' Perce muttered. He took three nonetheless, and sat silently in a chair, chewing. He broke his silence. 'You know, Jace? For Mistings, we haven't done much.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that the biggest raid we've ever gone on was that time we attacked the food supply line on the way to Lesgot. Before today, we've never killed a nobleman; never stolen atium; never even attacked a keep. What have we been doing with ourselves? We have this power. We could have done great things.'

'Notice that your definition of great seems to be killing and robbing.'

'Well, the definition varies. It's all relative. But you know what I mean?'

'I do. But there's not too much point to it all. We have a mortal lifespan, and the Lord Ruler will always be the Lord Ruler, no matter what we do.'

'Someday he'll be overthrown. Nothing lasts forever.'

'He is essentially Nothing. And he will last forever.'

Frank, Pipes, and Anna entered the room.

'Morning,' Anna said.

'Yes, it is,' Jace answered. 'Baywraps. Enjoy.'

Frank shivered. 'It's cold, isn't it.'

Anna raised an eyebrow. 'Not really.'

'Are you burning tin?'

'Yes.'

'Is Leo burning, is the real question,' Perce said. 'If he isn't, we're all dead because of Anna.'

'I'm always burning,' Leo said. 'You guys all right? You look weird. Worried.'

Jace laughed. Once. It wasn't a happy sound. 'Why would I be worried? We're only planning to raid the most powerful house in the world, steal large amounts of the most highly guarded thing in the world, and hope that the Steel Inquisitors don't kill us all.'

'About that,' Anna said. 'I've been thinking.'

'Lord Ruler,' Perce muttered.

'I'm no coordinator, like Haze was,' Anna continued. 'But wouldn't it be best to hit House Venture's convoy at their pickup site? On the road, we'd have to be carrying atium, while running and hiding from guards and possibly Inquisitors. At the Pits, we would already have places to hide it. There're plenty of buildings there, and I know we all like to fight indoors.'

'True,' Jace said. 'But the Pits would be so heavily guarded, there would really be no point anyway. We'd be walking in without having some sure way of getting out.'

'We would have the Pits themselves.'

'No,' Perce said. 'We're not going into the pits. Do you know what they're like? Have any of you seen them?'

The rest of the crew shook their heads.

'Neither have I. But I've heard about them… they're supposed to be evil. Haunted, almost. The Lord Ruler must have creatures in there, monsters who guard the atium as it's being mined. What do you think causes the gashes on the prisoners' arms? I've seen bodies of skaa who were killed in the Pits. Long, jagged scars, running from their wrists to their shoulders.'

'Thanks for that, Perce,' Pipes said.

'Just a thought,' Anna said.

Leagues away, there was a cavern in the ground. A deep, fathomless crevice, in the walls of which there were honeycombs of passageways, treacherous ravines and pitfalls, and the constant danger of losing one's way and never emerging from that place again.

Jagged rocks and knives of crystal furthered the danger. And yet, it was into rings of razor-sharp crystal that the prisoners of the Pits put their arms, knowing that if they did not, they would die before the day was over.

Each ring of crystal held one small geode, containing a pearl of precious atium. For some reason which no one could explain, the atium grew at the center of these pockets, forming in some way from the minerals of the rock. Crystals, formed in jagged knives pointing toward the atium, guarded the metal. But the prisoners who worked the pits forced their arm through the pain, reaching toward the atium, which would keep them alive for another week.

That night the crew made their attack on Keep Venture.

Jace and Perce struck first. The gate, guarded by only four guards, stood open, ready to receive the convoy carrying atium from the Pits.

The two Coinshots shot coins. Burning steel, they Pushed the pieces of metal through the air, tearing through the guards' throats, dropping them dead. Since they were Coinshots, and Coinshots only, they were unable to Pull the coins back to them. They simply took another few from a pouch they held at their side, and prepared to cover for Frank.

Frank charged, burning pewter. He had ingested a handful of pewter powder right before the attack, and his supply would last him for quite a while. His muscles enhanced to superhuman strength, his body able to take a spear through the stomach without dropping, he charged, smashing through a line of guards who chose to try to defend the gate.

Perce and Jace shot another line of coins over Frank's head. The deaths, and the pain, and the shouting of the guards, gave Anna and Pipes enough time to slip past the gates and into the keep, without the guards noticing them.

They hoped to find Haze within a few minutes, break her out, and get to House Venture's convoy before they attracted the attention of any Steel Inquisitors.

They failed.

In the city of Luthadel, House Venture was giving a ball.

Lord Jove Venture had no idea what was going on with his convoy or keep at the moment. He was too busy concentrating on saying the right thing and not offending anyone.

For the first time in anyone's memory, the Steel Ministry had requested that a ball be held in one of their buildings. Lord Venture, as the most influential nobleman in the Senate of Lords, had volunteered to host it.

Now he was wondering whether it had been the right decision.

Four Steel Inquisitors watched from balconies along the walls, looking down on the shining, sparkling display of wealth and power that the gathered noblemen and women had come to put on. Their presence, unnoticed by most of the guests, gave Jove the unfortunate feeling that this ball was merely a way for the Ministry to keep an eye on the noblemen.

So to speak. Inquisitors didn't have eyes, of course.

He nodded to Lord Neptus Lekal, lord of House Lekal, a fairly important man who controlled much of the trade in Luthadel.

'Jove!' someone called from behind him. 'Lord Venture. So good to see you. Might I have a word?'

Venture turned. It was an old acquaintance of his, a man whose wealth had come from investing in a certain shipping network in the south of the world.

Venture, however, owed him money.

'Phoebus,' he said. 'Of course.'

Phoebus nodded to one of the obligators who was circulating through the gathering. 'My lord,' he said to the obligator as the man approached. 'I wish you to be a witness here.' He turned back to Venture. 'My friend,' he said, a false smile growing on his face. 'I, of course, have complete and total trust in your trustworthiness, and have no doubt that you intended to pay your debt to me in due time. It is with reluctance, and a certain sense of embarrassment, that I must ask for it now. My business, as you may know, has fallen under hard times.'

Jove smiled in the man's face, knowing very well that Phoebus' business had never been more successful. 'Of course, my lord. I owe you twelve thousand boxings?'

'Indeed.'

'Very well.' Jove handed a pouch of money to Phoebus, keeping his smile on his face. He decided that Phoebus had to go. Sooner or later, Phoebus would stab him in the back. Jove had to do it to Phoebus first.

'My lords, I witness this,' the obligator said. Phoebus handed him a few boxings from the pouch, and pocketed the rest.

Twelve thousand boxings, Jove thought. That's a lot. I'll have him killed on his way home.

The four Inquisitors dropped silently to the floor, stepping into the light.

A fifth Inquisitor stepped through the main entrance, which closed behind him.

'My lords,' he said, his voice ringing through the ballroom. 'I have a message from the Lord Ruler himself.'

Jove raised an eyebrow, his hand in his pocket, holding a glass vial full of metal shavings.

'The Lord Ruler has decreed that the Senate of Lords is now dispelled,' the Inquisitor announced, to disbelieving muttering from the room. 'He has decreed that all decisions once left to the discernment of the Senate will now be under the jurisdiction of the… obligators.' His lips parted in a horrible grin, not of amusement but of what appeared to be disgust or frustration. 'That is all.'

With a swirl of cloaks, the four Inquisitors flew back to their posts along the balcony. The fifth Inquisitor remained where he was.

The muttering of the lords and noblemen grew louder. 'This is outrageous,' Jove heard from behind him. 'What do we do now?'

Jove turned. The speaker was a lesser lord, to whom Jove Venture would not normally even speak. 'Perhaps the Lord Ruler wishes to find out who has faith in him and who does not,' he said, and walked away.

He moved through the room, listening in on conversations, gauging the mood of the room. It appeared not many had faith in the Lord Ruler. No one doubted his position as supreme emperor, and no one doubted that he was God… but no one, apparently, wished the Senate disbanded, no matter what the Lord Ruler wanted.

Jove shook his head. It was unfortunate. The Lord Ruler deserved a greater faith than what the nobles had in him.

Kill them, said the Lord Ruler. Kill them all.

Jove nodded almost imperceptibly to the voice that only he could hear. If the Lord Ruler wished the people at the ball dead, who was he to argue? God told him to do something.

He would do it.

He nodded to the fifth Inquisitor as he passed it. The Inquisitor almost nodded back. Jove felt a certain kinship with the inhuman creature. They served the same lord, and they did their work with the same brutal intensity.

When should I kill them? he asked.

Wait. I will tell you when.

The fifth Inquisitor, the one on the floor, signaled to his brothers. They dropped to the floor and followed as he exited the room.

Now.

God spoke. Jove obeyed.

He turned and flung out a handful of coins. They shot through the air, tearing through noblemen bodies. More than half of the room died in the first barrage.

Jove drew his obsidian daggers. They were as sharp as steel, but less breakable than glass. Perfect for a Mistborn.

As he was.

He jumped, Pushing off of a metal bracket on a wall. The Push sent him to directly above the crowded ballroom. He looked down, ending the Push, and fell lightly to the floor. His knives flashed, and two more noblemen fell, their throats cut.

The screams of both men and women attracted guards, who rushed into the room, swords drawn. Jove threw out his hand (an unnecessary move, though he enjoyed doing it), and the guards were Pushed by their metal armor back out of the room.

A coin flew through air. Jove felt the Allomantic pulse just in time to duck, and the coin went over his head. He turned. A noble, apparently a Coinshot, stood with a bag of coins.

He fired them.

Jove Pushed back.

The body weights of the two noblemen were so evenly matched that for a moment they just struggled against each other.

Then Jove let go of the Push, using the other man's force to Push himself into the air. Jove flew, as the coins shot beneath him, hitting half a dozen other nobles who had been trying to break through the windows.

Jove dropped to the floor. He Pulled on a knife, a knife that had been lying on a table behind the noble he was facing. To get to Jove, the knife would have to go through his enemy.

Which it did.

The man dropped. Jove, knife in hand, turned. He pushed it, forcing it through another random lord, as he scanned the room.

No more Mistings. Strange.

He began moving through the room, his knives flashing constantly. He occasionally burned pewter, giving his body extra strength, but generally he didn't need it. The knives fell. Nobles fell.

The crew's attack on Keep Venture was failing.

Lord Venture had too many guards. Too many soldiers. Too many hazekillers, as they discovered halfway through the attack. Hazekillers, trained to fight Allomancers. Wielding wooden weapons that couldn't be pushed or pulled. Wearing wooden armor. Enhanced reflexes and speed from years of training.

And Pipes and Anna couldn't find Haze.

They had searched the keep twice over. Every tower, every dungeon cell. Haze was simply not there, or if she was, she was well hidden.

'Jace,' Anna said, dropping down beside him. 'Jace. We have no time.'

Jace launched a handful of nails over the fight. Leo had joined them, wielding a sword. Frank had been burning pewter constantly since they arrived, and gulping down handfuls of powder and water to keep his supply high enough.

'How much time?' Jace asked.

'I can see the convoy.'

Jace looked behind him, into the growing mists.

Most people feared the mists. They were deadly. Anyone who went into the mists went insane, everyone knew that.

If you were a Misting, the mists were nothing more than water vapor.

Jace couldn't see the convoy. The mists were too thick. But Anna, as a Tineye, could see further. Her keen eyes could cut through the mists, for reasons no one really understood. If she saw the convoy, they were out of time.

'Where is Haze?' Jace asked. He Pushed a last nail over Frank and Leo's heads, dropping a guard.

'We haven't found her. She might not be in the keep at all.'

'Damn. Where could she be, then?'

'Kredik Shaw.'

Jace blinked. 'Really?'

'Possibly.'

'Then we should go there.'

Anna ducked. An arrow shot over them. Jace Pushed it higher, causing it to land harmlessly on the rampart above them.

'Jace, no one has ever escaped successfully from Kredik Shaw.'

'Then we'll be the first.' Jace huffed out a breath of air as he Pushed a soldier into a wall, using the man's armor as his point of impact. 'Call the retreat.'

'Are we still going to attack the convoy?'

'Hell, no. We came to save Haze. If we can get out without any casualties, I call it a win.'

'Fine.'

Anna whistled to Pipes, then to the rest of the group. Frank smashed his fist into one more soldier's face, then turned and ran. Leo followed, and the crew backed out of Keep Venture, into the mists.

The Angel was in Luthadel.

He was not fully conscious. A shadow, or something, had been pressing on his mind, dampening his resolve and his thoughts. He resisted. For a short time, he had thought he could feel it moving away, as if its concentration was elsewhere.

Then it was back.

He couldn't think straight. He could barely move correctly. He stumbled into one of the illegal skaa bars, in the slums of Luthadel. He slumped in a booth, eyes flickering. He sensed the skaa eyeing him nervously – he was wearing clothes that no skaa could afford – but he was too weak to much care.

'Do you want something?' the owner asked.

The Angel waved his hand. 'Later. Later.'

'You can't just sit there and not drink,' the man continued, his voice driving nails through the Angel's brain. The effort it took to stay lucid was incredible. The man kept talking.

'You have no comprehension of how much I need you to shut up,' the Angel managed. 'Leave me.'

'Then get out,' the man blustered, stepping forward as if to forcibly throw the Angel out.

'If you touch me I will kill you,' the Angel said. This gave the man pause.

'No threats in my bar,' he said after a moment, and grabbed the Angel by the shoulder, his other arm pinning the Angel's sword to his side.

A knife from the bar shot through the air, slamming into the skaa's back. He dropped like a stone.

The rest of the skaa fled.

The Angel slumped back in his seat, his mind almost gone.

Chase after them, the shadow told him. Go kill them. How dare they flee you… You are the dark Angel, the law of the Mists.

'Oh, shut up,' he said aloud. The only answer from the empty bar was dripping from an overturned glass.

In the morning, the news spread wildly. Keep Venture attacked. The ball in the Steel Ministry had been attacked, and every noble in it slaughtered. A trail of death through Luthadel, which even the Inquisitors were seemingly unable to track.

No one noticed the Angel, moving quietly through the crowds gathered in the main square.

There would be executions today.

Three iron carriages, bars across the windows, rolled through the congested streets, stopping at the edge of a raised platform in the very center of the square. Piteous wailing came from within the conveyances, and troops of soldiers formed lines around square, standing to attention.

The door to the first carriage was opened. Five skaa peasants were led to the platform, where five masked soldiers stood waiting. The soldiers raised swords.

An Inquisitor stepped to the front of the platform. His deep, almost gravelly voice carried over the now-hushed crowd. 'These peasants are enemies to the Final Empire. Traitors, mercenaries. Their penalties are sentenced to them on charge of attacking noblemen.'

He nodded to the soldiers standing ready. The swords fell.

Five dead.

Five more skaa were led to the platform. The swords fell.

Five dead.

The crew, hoping to find Haze in Luthadel, miraculously alive and unhurt, watched the executions.

'Why are they doing this?' Pipes asked, not expecting an answer.

'Examples,' Jace answered. 'They know we're out there. They know someone is watching who committed the crimes, and these skaa are punished for it.'

'That's horrible,' Anna said.

'Better them than us.'

She gave him a glare, which he ignored, opting to stare out over the silent crowd.

Five more dead.

Kill him, God said. The voice was insistent, irritating. The Angel hadn't given in to the influence of last night – not by a long shot – but the voice of God repeated the urging to kill everyone the Angel saw.

Kill them, God said.

The Angel turned and began forcing his way through the packed square. The executions continued. He had to get out before he snapped.

Kill them, he heard, as he bumped into a pair of skaa laborers. They don't matter.

'Shut the bloody hell up,' he muttered, drawing glances from skaa around him.

Five more dead, up on the platform.

He could see an opening. As he stepped toward it, a skaa woman stepped in front of him, throwing him off balance and forcing him to stop. Kill her, God said.

The voice was getting harder to resist. It wasn't fading to the background, as most repeated noises do. It was growing louder, more insistent. And he found himself almost tempted.

Kill them.

And then he felt a throb. A pulse. The sign of Allomantic metals being burned, somewhere in the square. Somewhere other than the Inquisitors; somehow, their powers felt different. No, what he felt was the pulse of a Misting in the square burning tin.

And then someone began burning copper. Very close to the tin.

He began feeling more pulses. Someone had begun burning pewter. And someone else had begun Soothing the emotions of the people around them, making them malleable, calm. The three Mistings began to move through the crowd.

He turned. He burned copper, hiding his own Allomantic pulses from anyone searching for them, and then burned tin. Scanning the crowd, he could see the group. Not three. Seven. They were pushing past the skaa, moving toward the edge of the square.

The Angel followed. God insisted he kill the Mistings, but for now he was content to follow them and find out who they were. Skaa Mistings were rare. Seven in a group was far rarer, and a far better fight for him if they posed a threat.

'Anna. There's someone following us.'

Anna, eyes and ears enhanced exponentially by tin, looked over her shoulder. 'I see him.'

The black-cloaked stranger, a pair of knives at his sides and black gloves on his hands, had begun to run, shoving through the packed crowd. 'Run. Run. Now.'

The crew began to sprint down the empty street, their boots clapping against the blackened cobblestones.

A light ashfall began. The black flakes filtered down through the air, adding only a slight irritation as the six Mistings continued their run.

Then Anna's sense of touch and hearing told her to stop.

The Angel flew over them, spinning in midair and landing in front of them, facing them.

Jace and Perce each flared steel, Pushing a handful of coins each at the man ahead of them.

'He's Mistborn,' Pipes breathed. 'Lord Ruler.'

Frank flared his pewter again, dashing forward with incredible speed, swinging his arm with a blow that would very probably have flattened the Angel.

If he had been there.

The Angel flared atium as Frank ran forward. Atium, the most precious of the metals, gave one the ability to see into the future. The Angel saw a shadow, a wraithlike image of Frank, charging forward moments before the real Frank did so.

It was an easy matter to dodge the blow.

'Stop,' the Angel said. 'Stop before the Inquisitors find us.'

Frank took another swing, which the Angel dodged.

Jace shot a coin. The Angel Pushed it back.

'Will you stop,' the Angel said, frustrated. God was insisting that he kill them. All of them. 'Listen. I need you to help.'

Frank took a breath. 'Why should we believe you?' he asked, arms raised, as if expecting a spray of coins.

'Good question. The answer is because if you don't, I will give way to this voice inside my head that is telling me to kill you all.'

'Good answer,' Leo muttered.

Jace stepped forward. 'All right. Truce. We're fools to do it, but the soldiers are coming.'

Indeed, the crashing of marching soldiers could be heard. 'Follow me,' the Angel said, and sprinted off down the street.

The crew of six followed.

Jove had killed forty-six since morning.

They were easy deaths. He was a Mistborn. They were powerless, or at the very best Tineyes and Smokers. Nothing that could pose a threat to him.

'Come for me,' he called. The force that had been swirling outside his consciousness for years had been let in. He could feel the madness of it, the ruin, in the forefront of his mind. In some vague vestige of his own sanity he was whimpering in fear of the presence.

But he threw back his head and howled, beastlike, at the sky.

It was overcast. He was standing in the center of a wheatfield, where until that morning skaa had been working.

They were gone now.

The castle of the lord who owned the field stood to the north. He glared at it, longing to gut and burn it, but the presence held him back.

He was waiting for something.

A troop of cavalry cantered to within a hundred yards of him. The riders raised bows.

Jove knew that the arrows were not tipped with iron or steel. They were fired wood, oak. Almost as hard and sharp as a metal, and impervious to Allomantic abilities. If they were aimed well, they would harm him.

He didn't plan to let them be aimed well.

He thrust out his hands. The flare of steel in his gut took his breath away, and the armored men were cast from their mounts.

The presence within him had shown him a metal. A special metal, it had told him. A metal that enhanced your metals to the point of godliness.

The presence called it duralumin.

He downed a vial of metal flakes, replenishing his depleted steel.

'Come for me,' he said.

'The Steel Ministry doesn't know who it was. No one knows who it was. Except me.'

'And how do you know?' Jace asked.

'I was watching. It was a noble named Jove. Jove Venture.'

'Of house Venture?'

The Angel nodded. 'Of course. He's a Mistborn, like me. He slaughtered the nobles – not one survived – and ran off into the night.'

'The Inquisitors didn't find him?'

'Completely lost his trail. They won't admit it to the public, but they haven't the slightest idea who or what it was that killed those noblemen.'

Anna shook her head. 'How is it possible? The Lord Ruler is omniscient. He should know who it was.'

'The Lord Ruler is not omniscient. If he were, all seven of us would be dead by now.'

The Angel leaned forward in his seat. They had gathered in an upper room of an inn, the keeper of which appeared to know the Angel. 'Listen. I need you guys. I'm good, but I'm not good enough to do what I want to do. I need to storm Kredik Shaw.'

The six exchanged glances.

'Funny you say that,' Percy said. 'Because, incidentally, so do we.'

The Angel raised an eyebrow. 'Why?'

'We need to break out a prisoner.'

The Angel smiled. 'So do I.'

'Who?'

The Angel sighed. 'Nobody knows this, but the Pits of Hathsin are not all-consuming. They're not nearly as hard to break out of as the Lord Ruler would have everyone think. I've known three people, besides myself, who have survived the Pits. There are passages, catacombs, far below the surface. They lead to other caverns, and still more caverns, until at last you emerge far from the Pits. And you're free.'

'You were in the Pits of Hathsin?' Jace asked. 'Wait. What were they like? What happens inside them?'

'Death,' the Angel said. 'I don't wish to speak about it. But when I entered the Pits, I left behind my sister. She was ignored by the soldiers. She hadn't committed a crime. And I've tracked her since my escape. Tracked her through the Final Empire. Through Luthadel's crime crews, through the criminal underworld. And she's now in Kredik Shaw. I plant to get her out.' He breathed in and out. 'And you? Who do you want to find?'

'Our last crewmember,' Anna said. 'She was captured by the Inquisitors and taken to Kredik Shaw. At least… that's what we hoped. We attacked Keep Venture and she wasn't there. It was House Venture who took her.'

'That raid was you?' the Angel asked, looking at them with a new respect. 'Well done.' He stood. 'Get ready. We attack tomorrow morning. I'll tell you the plan then.'

Haze was deep in the dungeons of Kredik Shaw. Deep indeed.

She had lost track of time. Her body was broken. Her mind was breaking.

She had been tortured. They knew that the others in the crew were Mistings. They beat her, burned her, scourged her.

And then they had left her.

She was breaking.

The guards passed by her cell without stopping now. She was to be left to die. Starvation, if the internal bleeding didn't kill her first.

The pain, of course, was indescribable. She had been hurt before. Taken beatings before.

She had never been crucified.

They had taken her down after a few minutes. After her choked screams had died away. That day she had been visited by someone she thought could have been the Lord Ruler himself. She could feel his power, even without Allomantic abilities. Could feel his imposing presence, his air of complete invulnerability.

She was in the presence of a god.

And all she could do was breathe.

The Lord Ruler had watched her for a few minutes. Then, without a word, he had turned and left. 'Turn her,' he had said from down the corridor outside her cell.

They had done nothing to her since then.

The Angel disappeared in the night.

He went to find Jove Venture. And he found the man, standing over a pile of corpses, screaming defiances at the moon.

'Lord Venture,' the Angel said, only yards away. 'What an honor to meet you.'

The Angel's daggers flashed. Venture spun and flipped, Pushing off of one of the dead men's armor and shooting into the air. Midair, he drew a short sword, and they began to duel.

They were evenly matched, the Angel and Venture. Evenly matched in every sense of Allomancy. Even in weight and height, they were the same.

The real difference was that while Venture had given way to the presence, the Angel had not.

'You cannot best me,' Venture said, as their blades crossed and recrossed. 'Why do you continue this fight?'

'Because I hope to hold you until the Inquisitors arrive and kill you,' the Angel answered, quite truthfully.

'Damn your eyes,' Venture muttered, and Steelpushed with a greater intensity. The Angel responded in kind, and they flew away from each other, landing painfully on the ground.

The Angel ran to continue the fight.

Venture ran in the opposite direction.

The Inquisitors arrived. Shooting through the air, they followed Venture as he ran and leaped in a mad attempt to escape.

The Angel returned to his flat above the inn. Venture was not dead, and he would not die tonight.

But neither would the Steel Inquisitors be in Luthadel.

They attacked at dawn.

Kredik Shaw was locked and guarded, but to a Mistborn locks and guards were nothing. Especially to a Mistborn who wishes to save his sister from death.

The crew of six followed, shooting down and killing any guards whom the Angel didn't kill.

'Get to the dungeons,' the Angel said. 'Find your crewmember. And find my sister. Her name is Haze…'

He Pushed himself into the air and into the keep. Screams and crashing of armor issued forth, and the six were left alone in the burning courtyard.

A haybale caught on fire near the main stable.

A troop of soldiers dashed from the wall into the keep.

'I suppose we'd better go, then,' Anna said, still staring at the window through which the Angel had jumped. 'Come on, guys.'

She led them to the far side of the courtyard, where a promising iron door hung open, shattered from the force of one of the Angel's Steelpushes.

The dungeon steps went on for a long time. A very long time. Water dripped from the walls. Unidentified creatures skittered across the steps as they went deeper into the heart of Kredik Shaw.

'Lord Ruler,' Jace gasped as the narrow stairwell opened into a wider chamber. Cages lined the walls, each holding a well-dressed skeleton.

Another iron door, this one locked and bolted, stood across the otherwise empty chamber.

'Jace? Perce?' Anna asked. 'Go ahead.'

They nodded at each other. Then they Pushed.

The door did not move.

'Damn,' Jace said.

The Angel fought his way through hordes of soldiers. He fought further into the Keep, struggling to find a glimpse of where the Lord Ruler's stash of atium could be.

He stood in a vaulted hall, tapestries hanging from the ceiling, doors lining the walls. More and more soldiers poured in through the doors, and more and more soldiers died.

He burned steel, Pushing a pair of soldiers away from him. Then he turned and his daggers slashed, clearing room so he could think.

He burned iron. Suddenly he could see blue lines stretching away from his body, webs of them, corresponding to every metal body within a hundred yards. Most pointed to the decorations in the halls, or the armor worn by the soldiers.

Eight pointed straight through a closed door directly in front of him.

He charged, burning pewter, and kicked it down.

And swore mightily.

'Mistborn,' the last Steel Inquisitor growled happily. 'Good of you to join us.'

Jace and Perce Pushed.

And Pushed again.

Nothing. The door was too strong, too set in its hinges.

'Frank?' Anna said.

Frank dashed forward. As his shoulder struck the door, Jace and Perce burned steel again, Pushing so hard they began to slide backwards.

Nothing.

'What can we do?' Jace asked. 'She's in there, I know it.'

Frank began to pound on the metal door. 'So close…' he growled. 'Push again.'

They Pushed.

Nothing.

The light filtering in through the stairwell flickered.

The tramp of marching soldiers began, their iron feet beating out a rhythm on the stone steps.

There were a lot of feet.

The Inquisitor grinned, skull-like, the steel spikes through his skull glinting in the light of the outside flames. 'You're dead,' he said, and grabbed the Angel by the throat. He squeezed for a moment, letting the Angel feel his strength, then threw the Mistborn five feet into the room. 'Make a space,' he roared, and the soldiers complied.

'Draw your sword,' he invited the Angel. 'I've not killed a Mistborn in years.'

'You'll die first,' the Angel said. He drew his sword.

The sword was black. Black as night. The people who knew the Angel also knew his sword.

He drove it forward, slamming it into the Inquisitor's chest.

The creature smiled. No blood flowed.

He punched the Angel in the face.

'God, help me,' the Angel muttered. But God's voice was silent.

'Your god cannot help you,' the Inquisitor said, laughing. 'The Lord Ruler is god.'

He pulled an axe from behind the door. 'Let us dance.' He swung it. 'Can you dance?'

The Angel thrust again. The blow tore through the Inquisitor's right shoulder, coming out the other side. The creature grimaced in annoyance. 'It'll take all of five minutes to regenerate that, dammit,' he said. 'Even with duralumin.'

He laughed and flipped his axe to his left hand. 'Not that it'll help you.'

The Angel Pushed the axehead, forcing all of his strength into the Push.

He was thrown backwards, landing on the stone floor again. A mutter of laughter went up from the surrounding soldiers. He stood.

Haze was dying.

She had been stretched to her limits. And then broken.

She could feel the blood beginning to pool beneath her. Her stomach had been empty for days. Her skull was cracked. Her vision had been blurred for hours.

A blurry figure appeared over her. An outline, faint and shifting.

It looked like the mist.

Jace and Perce loosed a spray of coins at the first pair of soldiers. The metal projectiles slammed into the soldier's breastplates, falling to the floor.

The guards stepped forward impassively, grabbing Jace and Perce by the throat. They held them as two more stepped forward. Frank swung his fist into one man's face.

The soldier was burning pewter. He returned the blow and then flung himself onto Frank, holding him down while the other one bound Frank with chains.

The other three gave almost no resistance. All six were bound and gagged.

Then they were taken back up the stairs.

The Lord Ruler wanted to meet them.

Haze's vision flickered again. The mist figure bent down. Its hand, or what would have been its hand had it been human, opened.

It held an open glass vial.

Hazel reached out, her muscles straining to lift her hand six inches off of the ground.

She drank the contents of the vial.

And closed her eyes.

The Inquisitor bound and gagged the Angel. There hadn't been much of a fight; the Steel Inquisitor had Pulled a chandelier into the back of the Angel's head.

He dragged the limp body to the Lord Ruler's throne room, where the God and King of the Final Empire sat in state.

'My lord,' he said, his eyes down. 'This is the Mistborn.'

'And an unusually powerful one, too,' the Lord Ruler said. 'He's burning pewter, even while unconscious. Give him aluminum.'

Aluminum, when burned, removes all traces of other metals, effectively disarming an Allomancer.

The Inquisitor complied, forcing a pinch of aluminum powder down the Angel's throat.

'What does he call himself?' the Lord Ruler asked.

'He calls himself... the Angel.'

'How fitting. I am God. And he will serve me.'

The Lord Ruler turned away, looking out of the window through which he surveyed his capital. 'Bring the other Mistings to me.'

'They're on their way, my lord.'

Haze felt the heat. Power. Building up inside her. Knitting her wounds, mending her broken bones.

Making her whole.

The six crewmembers, in varying degrees of consciousness, were dragged to the foot of the Lord Ruler's throne.

'The spawn of unfaithful noblemen,' the Lord Ruler sneered, glaring down at the six. 'Half-skaa, half-noble. What shall I do with such trash?'

'Kill them,' the Inquisitor suggested. 'And the noblemen. And let the Steel Ministry control the dealings within the Final Empire.'

'We've spoken of this before,' the Lord Ruler murmured. 'And my answer is the same. Not all nobles are unfaithful. Some were and are quite loyal to my commands.'

He nodded to Jace. 'Do you know your father, boy?'

The Inquisitor ripped away the gag. Jace coughed. 'My father...'

'Yes.'

'My elder sister once pointed him out to me. Jove. Jove Venture. Lord of House Venture.' His eyes mocked the Lord Ruler.

The Lord Ruler turned away, breathing hard, controlling frustration. 'Kill them. Leave the... Angel.'

The Inquisitor nodded, began to drag the six away.

The floor erupted.

Hazel burst through. She flowed with energy. Every cell in her body was burning, flaming with Allomantic power.

'Miss me, bitches?' she asked. 'Get down.'

Ash fell from the sky.

Okay. Yeah.

I know, I know. But I kinda like the ending. Abrupt. But obvious.

If I get a good enough response (from the three PJO fans who've also read Mistborn) I'll make this into a multichap.

For now... peace.

Farewell, my good people!