Deep in the vast deserts of Anauroch, high above the scorched wasteland of sand and ruined relics, soared the last floating enclave of the ancient Netherese Imperium. Thousands of years previous powerful archwizards belonging to the legendary kingdom of Netheril had taken to the skies by enchanting their majestic cities with powerful magics that defied gravity itself; unfortunately it was that same ingenuity that had nearly brought about the sudden and swift end of their entire race. At the hands of a single ambitious and irresponsible wizard the grand cities of Netheril all came crashing to the ground when the secret to their sorcery, the mighty mythallars, had been rendered useless by a great influx of magic; thousands had died in an instant in the cataclysm known as Karsus's Folly, and it was long thought that the Netherese Imperium was extinct.

Until the floating city of Thultanthar mysteriously appeared in the skies above Anauroch.

Controversy had surrounded the return of the last of the Netherese archwizards, but the truth was really quite simple: the oldest and strongest of the Netherese, a shade known to his subjects as High Prince Telamont Tanthul, was really far older than many truly knew. As long lived as the Netherese and the Shadovar were, very few yet remained who recalled Karsus's Folly firsthand and had survived the seventeen century sojourn of their proud city into the desolate Realm of Shadow, and as those precious few recalled the renown Lord Shadow and the High Prince that everyone was so familiar with were two very different monarchs. Telamont himself always found those assumptions quite amusing… for of course, those monarchs were actually one in the same.

It was Telamont's thirst for the unknown that had led his people from the Material Plane and into the Shadow Realm, and although the trans-dimensional shift had lasted several thousands of years longer than anyone had originally anticipated, it had astounding results. Telamont's curiosity had preserved the Netherese Imperium, and that sojourn to another plane of existence had made his already magically-adept race far more capable than ever before. Their continued faith and devotion to the goddess Shar had bestowed upon them an entirely new sect of magic known as the Shadow Weave, and even now very few individuals existing outside of the City of Shade had access to that elusive branch of magic. That same faith in the Mistress of the Night had eventually led the last of the Netherese floating cities back into the Material Plane after a grueling seventeen hundred years of ceaseless adaptation, where now they were perched upon the precipice of becoming one of Faerun's major powers.

Not that High Prince Telamont was resting on his laurels at present – no, for the time being he was facing his second eldest son, Rivalen, as he tried to decide whether or not to allow him to live. After a moment's quiet deliberation the High Prince lifted one hand and struck his son with a blow that sent the Second Prince flying; he crashed into one of the five-foot-tall black candelabras lining the bottommost stair leading up to the Most High's throne before coming to rest upon the floor, surrounded by half-burnt candles lit with flickering blue flames. For their part his three brothers – Mattick, Vattick, and Brennus – did their best not to react in any way, for to draw attention to oneself would surely mean they would share in the Most High's wrath.

"Kneel!" bellowed the Most High, his voice reverberating throughout the massive audience hall, and Rivalen was quick to return to the front of the line and prostrate himself before his father; once there he felt quite keenly the full weight of the High Prince's displeasure, for it drove him nearer to the ground until his forehead was pressed painfully against the cool black marble.

All he could see was the Most High's booted feet as his father set to pacing furiously to and fro in front of him. "I sent you to Waterdeep to secure an alliance with Open Lord Paladinson, and what do you do? Instead of consulting with me when you found access to Waterdeep Tower denied to you, you admitted yourselves without permission?! Instead of inquiring as to why the Lords decided against an audience with us, you murdered them without cause and all but blackmailed Paladinson into agreeing to the alliance?! Need I remind all of you that our objective was to seek such unions peaceably and without bloodshed of any kind?!"

Rivalen's voice was muffled by the marble when he mumbled, "Most High, if I may speak – "

Telamont's eyes flashed a blinding white and Rivalen was sent careening backward; he came down upon the short marble staircase about fifty feet away and was very still, moaning softly. "No, you do not have permission to speak! I have half a mind to strip you of your title and cast you out of the city for this! Do you realize that this cannot be undone?! There is no way to spin the tale of this day in a way that paints us favorably! Regardless of what we say or do from this point forward, the city of Waterdeep will never view us as anything more than villains!" He rounded upon Mattick, Vattick and Brennus, who recoiled from the fury in his gaze at once. "And you! You are all just as much to blame as your brother for this atrocity! Did you not think to interfere?! Did it not occur to you that the brutal slaying of Waterdeep's nobles would be counter to my will?!"

Twelfth Prince Brennus, the youngest and perhaps the cleverest of the Princes of Shade, bravely spoke up on their behalf. "Most High One, we protested our brother's intentions on more than one occasion. He insisted that he was the authority on this, and that to disobey him would be just as blasphemous as directly disobeying you."

The High Prince's gaze cut between twin princes Mattick and Vattick to the back of the audience chamber, where Rivalen was slowly struggling to regain his feet. "On your life, is this true? Let me warn you - if even a single word you breathe is a lie, I will have you publicly executed as though you were no better than a commoner!"

Rivalen chose to take his father at his word as opposed to testing the truth of his threats – it was a very rare occasion when the Most High chose not to make good on a warning. Doubling over while the bones in his back finished healing he wheezed, "It is true, Most High One. They protested and I overruled them."

"But I confess," Brennus interjected quietly, "that we all participated in the slaughter."

Telamont opened his mouth to pronounce judgment on all of them, but they were momentarily spared by the arrival of Princes Escanor, Lamorak, Rapha, and Melegaunt; Escanor, the eldest of Telamont's sons, nodded respectfully to the High Prince as he passed him before seizing Rivalen by the front of his cleric's robes with both hands and lifting him several inches off the ground.

"Fool!" shouted First Prince Escanor, his ivory ceremonial fangs glinting just millimeters from Rivalen's face. "What have you done?! Imagine our shock when Alustriel of Silverymoon told us of the massacre in Waterdeep! Imagine our shame, accepting an alliance that the Lady only pledged out of fear!"

"Escanor!" roared Telamont. "Release him at once!"

The First Prince abruptly released his hold on Rivalen's robes and the High Priest of Shar came down heavily upon his feet; they glared at one another with pure loathing as Escanor stalked away to take his place in line on Lamorak's right. Escanor's words were true: he had led a peaceable treaty-seeking negotiation to the southern kingdom of Silverymoon just minutes after the massacre of the Lords of Waterdeep had occurred, but word traveled quickly among nobles and Lady Alustriel, the wise and just Queen of Silverymoon, had received word from Open Lord Piergieron Paladinson of the murders that had taken place in his court at the hands of a separate delegation from Thultanthar. Escanor had had no choice, therefore, but to allow Alustriel to slander the City of Shade and accept his proposal of friendship between their two great nations – on the singular condition that the Princes of Shade would agree to spare the people of Silverymoon.

Eleventh Prince Melegaunt stalked one step forward, stabbing his index finger in Rivalen's direction. "You have jeopardized everything we have worked so hard to obtain!"

Tenth Prince Rapha cocked his head toward the place where Brennus, Mattick and Vattick stood huddled. "And what about them? Clearly they did nothing to stop these horrors from happening! They are just as much to blame!"

"ENOUGH!" The High Prince's magically magnified voice rang in their ears, silencing their protests at once, and he waved his hand toward Melegaunt, Rapha, and Lamorak. "You three will leave me at once and return to your daily duties – at present I have no further use for you."

Without a word the three princes bowed and melted into the shadows of the audience chamber, stealing away without a sound as Telamont rounded on Escanor. "I am pleased that you were able to salvage your meeting with Lady Alustriel, though we will speak more on that at a later time. For now, you should retire also; I must deal with the matter at hand." First Prince Escanor nodded once in acquiescence and softly excused himself, following his brothers and becoming one with the encroaching darkness.

Telamont gestured then to Mattick, Vattick and Brennus, who were all watching their father with trepidation in their jewel-bright eyes. "You will all three remain here in the enclave until I feel I can begin to trust you again. Until such time you will resume your duties as normal, but you will not be eligible to carry out matters of state. Am I in any way unclear?"

A whispered cacophony of phrases such as, "No, Most High One," and "Thank you, High Prince, for your mercy," wafted up to meet him, and with a wave of his hand Telamont commanded the three of them to be gone. At last, he turned to regard Second Prince Rivalen.

"You deliberately disobeyed me," said the High Prince in a soft, forbidding tone of voice. "You allowed your own arrogance and your sense of foolish pride to stand in the way of making decisions that would benefit Thultanthar. How can you have done this? You truly have jeopardized all that we have worked to achieve."

Rivalen flung himself upon the floor at the High Prince's feet again, groveling for mercy. "I beg of you, Most High – know that all I did today, I did for the good of Thultanthar."

"Be that as it may," Telamont continued dryly, "the fact remains that you have utterly failed me. You are also forbidden to leave the enclave until I have chosen to forgive you; additionally you are banned from meetings of the Shadow Council until further notice, and you are not permitted to set foot within the Palace unless you are formally invited. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Most High One," breathed the Second Prince, regret apparent in every syllable. "Forgive me."

"In time, if you prove worthy," snapped Telamont. "Now remove yourself from my sight."

The moment the High Priest of Shar had vanished from the audience chamber Telamont retreated to his high-backed onyx throne and all but flung himself down upon it, and for a moment as he dropped his head into his hands he felt every bit of his three thousand years. The reprieve was short lived, though, as just a scant few seconds later five more figures materialized before him – Princes Aglarel, Clariburnus, Yder, and Dethud, as well as the mountebank Soleil Chemaut.

The first thing Telamont noticed about them was the singed and tattered nature of their clothing, but this was hardly unusual. The errand the High Prince had charged them with was decidedly more dangerous than those of the previous two delegations he had dealt with just moments before – this group, led by the soft-spoken but oft-lethal Fourth Prince Aglarel, had journeyed to the Dragon Coast seeking an alliance with the current dragon in charge, a particularly volatile red wyrm called Shaepulanderex. The High Prince had assumed that the encounter would come to blows but hadn't been overly concerned for any of his progeny – after all, four Princes of Shade and the Left Hand of the Most High could accomplish matters far more dire than the slaying of one dragon, even one as venerable as Shepulanderex. Seeing the five of them returned to the enclave in one piece but looking worse for wear than when they had departed could only mean one thing – they had engaged the elder dragon in combat, and the dragon had not survived.

At second glance, though, it became apparent that something was amiss – it was evident in the way that his sons kept glancing sidelong at Soleil when she wasn't looking, and the way that when she caught them staring they either looked away immediately or did not quite meet her eyes. Even Clariburnus, who had long considered himself one of the mountebank's greatest supporters and was often quick to aid her in her endeavors, stood a few inches further away from her than he normally would have.

Telamont observed all of these odd behaviors before at last cocking one shadowy eyebrow. "What has happened?"

"There has been…" Fourth Prince Aglarel paused, seemingly searching for the most accurate word or phrase, before settling uncertainly upon, "…a development."

The Most High's eyes fell heavily upon Soleil, whose head was turned downward and whose gaze was carefully hidden behind the curtain of her silky black hair. Though he could see little of her face, he was certain that her cheeks were pink with a light blush.

Telamont had long since been enamored of Soleil, arguably since the moment she had been brought before him as a fourteen-year-old vagabond who had somehow singlehandedly infiltrated Thultanthar's cryptic defenses. The reason for his fascination with her was really quite simple: in his three millennia of life the High Prince had been blessed with twelve strong and capable sons who made him quite proud – most of the time – but not a single daughter, and privately he had always wished for one. The young half-elf's honesty and innocence had prompted Telamont to take her in and study her for a time, curious as to why such a young girl would possess such purity of spirit when clearly the clientele she associated with were so much different – at the time Soleil had been an operative for a guild of treasure hunters that called the catacombs beneath Waterdeep their home.

It was kindness that had won Soleil's devotion to him, for Soleil had grown up with a fractured family and came from a background of neglect and deceit that had nearly made her unreachable. With careful nurturing Telamont had molded Soleil from a lost waif into a confident young woman, and on the eve of her sixteenth birthday the High Prince had proposed to make Soleil a member of his esteemed Shadow Council. On one condition – that she do so as a mountebank, and relinquish her soul into his keeping.

To the profound surprise of all, Soleil had readily agreed to these terms. In exchange for her continued service and the selfless sacrifice of her soul Telamont had gifted Soleil with a number of extraordinary talents. One of these was an ensorcelled ring that allowed Soleil to jaunt through rifts between dimensions, effectively short distance time travel harnessed into a single small item. The other was her most prized possession, and one of the reasons why Soleil was of such great use to the Twelve Princes of Shade – an empathetic link that alerted the mountebank when any of Telamont's sons, or Telamont himself, was in grave danger and needed her aid. This ability had served Soleil well over the years, and was the primary reason why she had long considered herself the guardian of the Tanthul family.

Telamont rose slowly from his throne, not really sure what to expect as he descended the short black marble staircase and drifted into place before the diminutive half-elf; though tall for her race, Soleil was easily the smallest member of the Shadow Council and was often overlooked if one was not careful. When he was standing before her the High Prince reached out and grasped her dainty chin with one shadowy hand, and he guided her head up until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "Tell me what has happened, Soleil."

Soleil's chin was trembling in his hand, as though she were so frightened of him that she was barely holding back tears. This was very unlike her – years spent in the company of the battle-hardened Princes of Shade had taught Soleil how to control her emotions, and generally she was able to control their excesses. She blinked her sunshine-yellow eyes once before stammering out her shaky reply. "I… I killed the dragon, Most High One."

Telamont's eyes flitted over the top of Soleil's head and locked with Aglarel's; the Fourth Prince nodded curtly once, as if in confirmation of what the mountebank had said. "Singlehandedly?"

"Yes, Most High One," Soleil muttered nervously, but Telamont knew without being told that she was withholding something important from her testimony.

Unsurprisingly, Clariburnus cleared his throat politely and attempted to intervene on Soleil's behalf. "Most High, if I may be so bold as to intrude… It isn't that we are skeptical of Soleil's abilities, for we have all witnessed firsthand on many occasions precisely what she is capable of. Rather, it is simply the nature of the attack she loosed to destroy the dragon that has left us all a little… uneasy."

At this point in the day, Telamont was nearly out of patience. "By the Moon, enough with the insinuations!"

Seventh Prince Dethud stepped forward, his iron-colored eyes shining dimly from beneath the cowl of his cloak. "Apologies, High Prince. What happened was this: the dragon was preparing to attack us all with its fire when Soleil intervened. She spoke a word or two in a tongue that was not Common, and the words that she spoke seemed to be magically charged – her voice triggered a spell-like effect, a subzero temperature blast that not only rendered the dragon's breath useless, but froze the wyrm solid."

All eyes were upon Soleil now, whose face was so red it appeared to be sunburned and whose head was raised in a kind of terrified defiance. Telamont eyed the mountebank curiously, one hand stroking his chin as he mulled over every word that Dethud had spoken, and then the inquiries started. "Soleil, what language did you speak?"

"I… I don't know, Most High One," Soleil admitted in a feeble voice. "The words were unfamiliar to me."

"Perhaps it was a phrase you have heard somewhere?" prodded the High Prince patiently. "Something you have heard here in the enclave?"

The mountebank was shaking her head insistently before the words had even left Telamont's mouth. "No, High Prince. There were words that none within Thultanthar have ever spoken. As Prince Dethud said, the words were not in the Common tongue."

Telamont was pacing slowly the length of their line, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed as he considered. "A language you were vaguely familiar with from your days living in Waterdeep, perhaps? The population of Waterdeep is diverse – surely you were well-versed in more than one tongue when you were a child."

Soleil was chewing away at her bottom lip, and her eyes were wide with fear. "I apologize, High Prince, but no. I am fluent in one dialect of Elven and familiar with four others, but these words… I have no rational explanation for why I said them."

"Her inflection and timbre were completely foreign also," inserted Sixth Prince Yder. "It is almost as if for a moment she was… not herself."

"Foreign?" asked Telamont.

"In a way, the voice was not her own," said Aglarel. "Low-pitched and guttural… had she not looked precisely the same, I would have guessed an entirely different person had spoken."

Telamont was gingerly rubbing his temples with his fingertips now; he wore the expression of a man who had received a great deal of information in a short period of time. "And these words were magically charged, you say?"

"Soleil was able to harness a blast of cold at will, the potency of which was astounding," Clariburnus confirmed. "She needed no aid from us to dispatch Shaepulanderex."

Telamont was nodding along by the end, and he had scaled the stairs of black marble and seated himself again upon his onyx throne by the time Clariburnus had fallen silent. Resting one elbow upon the arm of the throne he balanced his chin in his hand as he surveyed Soleil shrewdly, saying, "This is a most fascinating development indeed. Judging by the fact that you are all standing here in one piece and that none of you seem badly hurt, I would call this campaign a success… However, now we are faced with the interesting dilemma of discovering just how Soleil killed the dragon. I suspect you are all quite ready for some rest, and I have had a most taxing day myself, so for now I think perhaps we should – "

But Telamont's proposed course of action was interrupted by yet another arrival, the solidifying of a separate shadow about fifteen feet to Soleil's left. At first glance it appeared to be a formless black blob, but as it came into sharper focus they came to understand that it was a low-crouching figure half-dragging a second figure who appeared to be hanging limply in the first person's arms. They were all squinting furiously in an attempt to make out just who was entering the Most High's private audience hall unannounced when the two figures materialized completely; the first was a petite female with a heart-shaped face, devastating curves, and violet spellcaster's robes, and in her arms she was attempting to carry the lolling form of Hadrhune.

"What is this?!" roared High Prince Telamont, leaping from his throne in a fury as his eyes flashed platinum fire.

In the blink of an eye Yder, Dethud and Soleil had all drawn weapons and advanced a single threatening step nearer to where the female wizard crouched over the seneschal; Clariburnus hesitated with one hand upon the shaft of his glaive, a flash of vague recognition crossing his face, but it was Fourth Prince Aglarel who kept the others from killing the lovely woman on sight. He melted into his own shadow and materialized a millisecond later between his fellow council members and the wizard bearing Hadrhune, his eyebrows raised and his arms out as if to keep the others from advancing any further.

"Archmistress!" he hailed her in a tone of mild familiarity. "What in the name of Shar are you doing here?"

Aglarel's unexpected outburst gave the female spellcaster just enough time to launch into the explanation that ultimately saved her life; she turned toward Fourth Prince Aglarel, dragging Hadrhune into her lap as she did so and winding her arms around him as though to protect him, and shrieked, "Help him! Please help him! He stopped breathing on the way here and he won't wake up!"

A piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Clariburnus then, and lowering his hand from his glaive he breathed, "It is you… Aveil Arthien?!"

Until just a few short nights ago, none within the City of Shade were familiar with the name Aveil Arthien – save for Hadrhune and Fourth Prince Aglarel, of course. Aglarel's acquaintance with Aveil was centered solely around their business interactions: she was the Archmistress of the Citadel of Assassins, the leading authority on magic and second in command of a secretive and deadly group of professional killers whose reach and influence knew no boundaries, and Aglarel often utilized that particular group as one of his ground contacts when he needed information on someone that lived outside of Thultanthar. They had dealt with one another on a handful of occasions on a number of matters that were strictly business oriented but had little to do with one another in any other arena.

Aveil's relationship with Hadrhune was something altogether different.

They had met in a similar way – while Fourth Prince Aglarel generally dealt with Timoshenko, Aveil's technical superior and the Grandfather of Assassins, Hadrhune met with Aveil often in the days following the suspicious disappearance of Knellict, the previous Archmage of the Citadel whom Aveil had replaced at Timoshenko's request. Hadrhune knew without asking how Aveil had achieved her sudden promotion – she had murdered Knellict in order to achieve her freedom from him, of course – but had long considered that circumstance none of his business and seldom brought it up when in her company. It was during one of their private meetings together that they had allowed their disciplines to slip momentarily, and that brief lapse of willpower had resulted in a one-time tryst between the two. Shortly after Hadrhune's business with the Citadel was pronounced completed and he had returned to Thultanthar, and Aveil, then married to a champion of Mielikki called Drako Falconis, had neither spoken of nor thought about their chaste meeting thereafter.

The return of Lim Tal'eyve as the Lichdrow Usurper of the Bloodstone Lands, however, had altered the entire course of Aveil's life in ways that were not fixable. In a bid to exact revenge upon Drako Falconis for ending his life, Lim Tal'eyve had abducted Aveil and imprisoned her within the dungeon of the fabled Castle Perilous, the former seat of power of the Witch-King Zhengyi and a relic of cursed magics the world over; though the air genasi and his friends had battled their way through legions of the lichdrow's faithful followers and ultimately brought the dreaded castle to the ground they had not been able to do so fast enough to spare Aveil the horrors that had darkened her perspective and ruined her marriage. Unable to hide her increasingly obvious pregnancy, Aveil had been powerless to protect her unborn child from Lim Tal'eyve's wrath – the lichdrow had cut the child from its mother's womb and sacrificed it to the Spider Queen Lolth. Neither Aveil nor Drako could abide the horrors they had suffered at Lim Tal'eyve's hands and after a few months they had drifted apart, wordlessly but mutually ending their years-long marriage to one another.

When the first whisperings of Lim Tal'eyve's next coming had reached the ears of several within Thultanthar's walls Aveil had reappeared; keen on thwarting the drow's attempts to return to the world of the living she had been quick to contact her only real acquaintance in the City of Shade – Hadrhune, the personal emissary of High Prince Telamont and the high shadow sorcerer of the enclave. That encounter had first come to blows and then ended with a swift but passionate exchange that had left them both reeling and the following meeting had raised eyebrows among the Princes of Shade, primarily because it could not be described as anything but intimate.

The matron goddess of the Shadovar, Shar, had demanded that the Shadow Council put a stop to Lim Tal'eyve's most recent attempt at resurrection, and as penance for his lapse in judgment Hadrhune had departed the enclave at the High Prince's request to defend Aveil from the lichdrow. He had accomplished the task the Most High had charged him with, but his actions had come at great personal sacrifice – they had landed him in his current state of declining health.

And somehow Aveil had borne the seneschal to the private audience chamber within the Palace Most High, all the way from the distant city of Neverwinter.

Seldom one for words, Sixth Prince Yder shoved past his older brother and brandished his enchanted chakra out before him. "Witch! Harlot! What have you done?! Do you not know the identity of the shade whose life you have taken?! Do you think the Princes of Shade will abide a treachery of this magnitude?!"

Seeing that Yder meant to strike Aveil freed one of her hands and summoned a white scepter adorned with a bright azure stone from thin air; sliding out from beneath Hadrhune she leapt to her feet, and though she was obviously fatigued from the lengthy journey through the Realm of Shadow she seemed perfectly prepared to defend herself. "The only treachery committed here will be yours if you presume to hold me accountable for this crime! I have come here at great personal risk to deliver Hadrhune to safety, and to beg you to aid him before it is too late!"

"And we will aid him," growled Yder, leveling his chakra in line with the Archmistress's throat, "after we have ended your miserable life!"

"Enough!" cried Clariburnus, and joining Aglarel's side he stood between Yder and Aveil. "Fool! This is the woman the Most High charged Hadrhune with protecting!"

Aglarel glanced over his shoulder to study Hadrhune for a moment before addressing Aveil. "Is this the doing of the lichdrow, Lim Tal'eyve?!"

But Aveil had heard enough, and she had reached the end of her patience for their questions. She shoved between Clariburnus and Aglarel, jostled Yder none-too-gently as she passed, and striding right up to High Prince Telamont she seized him by the wrist and cried, "Do with me as you will, but I beg of you, save him! Please!"

Soleil and Dethud simultaneously rested weapons against the wizard's back, blade and wand both millimeters from striking a killing blow. "On your life," Soleil hissed menacingly, "release the Most High at once, or never again breathe another breath!"

"Away," bade Telamont, and Aveil snatched her hand back as if burned; the High Prince drifted past them all and knelt down beside Hadrhune, taking the seneschal's cold hand in both of his own as he called out, "Brennus! Rivalen!"

Two shadows lingering always near the darkness at the edge of the audience hall seemed to peel themselves away from the walls and solidified into the forms of the High Priest of Shar and the young loremaster of Netheril; the two princes hurried forward at once, dropping together to Hadrhune's side and hovering their hands over him. Telamont took his feet upon their arrival, his platinum eyes veritably burning within his shadow-swathed face.

"Brennus," said Telamont, "what is it that felled Hadrhune?"

The Twelfth Prince sat back on his heels and swiped the back of his hand across his brow, looking defeated. "It seems a particularly potent daylight spell is the cause of Hadrhune's condition, Most High One… Faint traces of the burst of sunlight linger still within his body, concentrated around his shadow orb."

In order to become a shade, they all knew, one had to surrender one's soul and trade it for the essence of purest shadow; in doing so one's heart was for all intents and purposes completely destroyed, and the shadow orb was the life organ that replaced it. Without it, a shade could not survive. Telamont's gaze cut to Rivalen as he snapped, "Rivalen? Can he be saved?"

Second Prince Rivalen crouched over the seneschal's prone body and whispered the trigger phrase of a spell, and the moment his right hand had taken on the consistency of vapor he plunged it deep into Hadrhune's chest. Soleil flinched back against Clariburnus as Aveil gasped in horror and gulped back a dry sob; after a moment's contemplation Rivalen withdrew his hand, which seemed slightly brighter than it had before. Giving his hand a brief shake Rivalen expelled what appeared to be droplets of molten sunshine from his fingers, and when he addressed the High Prince his tone was a grave one. "His shadow orb remains intact, Most High One, but the organ is failing even as we speak and the sunlight is even now damaging his body." His eyes flitted in Aveil's direction as he added, "I detect fragments of a darkness cloak that I suspect you cast upon him – had you not exercised such a preventative measure, he would have died in transit."

"Answer me, Rivalen," growled the High Prince. "We are out of time."

Rivalen took his feet, gazing down at the seneschal with an expression of utmost pity. At length he said haltingly, "He lives, but his condition is critical… He may be beyond my care."

Telamont shook his head once as though this diagnosis was unacceptable to him. "Treat him as best you may – you have my permission to utilize any means at your disposal. If you are able to save Hadrhune, your sentence will be lifted."

The Second Prince was in his element, gesturing to both Brennus and Dethud. "Bring him – I will need you both to assist me." And without another word the three princes had blended into the shadows of the audience chamber and become little more than particles of shadow, taking the seneschal with them.

The High Prince faced Aveil at once, who was trapped between weapons wielded by both Yder and Soleil; he studied her evenly for half a minute or so as though deliberating just what to do with her, and when his face eventually hardened and took on an unforgiving expression she knew that his decision would not be favorable to her. "Aglarel."

Fourth Prince Aglarel was at his father's side at once. "Here, Most High One."

"You will escort Archmistress Arthien to the dungeons, where she will pass the time until Hadrhune's final fate has been determined. You are charged with seeing to her captivity – if she attempts to escape, you will face my wrath. And you – " Telamont allowed the full weight of his glare to settle upon the diminutive wizard when he said, "It is apparent that you have come by the ability to shadow walk – though how, I have not yet determined – so I will say that if you flee the city, you will be killed without question. I do not think I need to tell you that I will find you, no matter how far you choose to run."

Aglarel appeared behind Aveil and seized her roughly at the elbow, knocking the Staff of Winter's Chill from her hand as he did so; Aveil growled at him but did not attempt to struggle, saying, "Is this the great justice of Thultanthar?! To imprison those that aid you and allow the true culprit to go free?!"

"That remains to be seen," said High Prince Telamont. "Aglarel – take her away."