AN - I just wanted to send out a special 'thank you' to my wondeful readers/reviewers. Gen1, you made my day!


The basilica was packed to capacity, brimming over with an excitement that was almost palpable. The main floor and every balcony were filled. The buzz of conversation varied, but in a sense, the Necromongers were in one accord; they were waiting.

Some looked East, through and beyond the two great statues depicting pain at its most awful. From this way, the former Lord Marshall would come, borne on a litter to his final resting place.

Others looked North toward the chamber of the Quasi-dead. The opening of those doors would signal the arrival of the new Lord Marshall coming to officially ascend his throne.

Scales and Lord Vaako stood on either side of the throne, heading two squadrons that flowed all the way up both stairwells. They would step forward to bid their old leader goodbye; they would also be the first to pledge allegiance to the new.

Vaako glanced surreptitiously at his wife, who stood on the balcony with a group of noblewomen. Her peers wore expressions of nervousness and excitement. Dame Vaako looked bored. Palms flat against the railing, she leaned carelessly over the balcony, scanning the crowd with little interest.

The conversation grew to near fervor, until they heard the dense thud of a drum. All was a hush then, and a loud voice proclaimed,

"Make way for Zhylaw the Last, transcended to Underverse!"

The crowd parted like water and a black-robed procession winded its way up the middle of the hall. Drummers were at the head, pounding a somber beat on the sides of their instruments. Next, came the performers: dancers and acrobats and a man who stopped mid-step to blow flame. A train of purifiers came next, headed by the lead purifier, who bore a torch at chest level.

Finally, the litter came, carrying Zhylaw's remains. The congregation had spared no expense. The former Lord Marshall was laid out in full state. Contrary to custom, his armor had been cleaned and buffed to a brilliant shine; the facemask to his helmet lay on his breast. The men chosen to bear the litter were the strongest the ship had to offer, which was evident, for they bore the body high above their shoulders so all could see the man one last time.

As the body passed, the Necromongers bowed until they knelt, leaning down to touch their foreheads to their hands, crossed on the ground before them. When the procession reached the front, the musicians and performers melted into the crowd, leaving only the purifiers and the body before the throne.

At the Purifier's signal, the pallbearers set the body on a platform that had been erected at the front of the hall. All was silent.

Then the drums began again, this time with a newer, quicker beat - the type designed to stir the blood and quicken the heart. Singers joined in, vocalizing an intense melody comprised of wordless tones and wails. The music continued, steadily growing in speed and ferocity, until it seemed that the drummers would pound right through the skins. Then just as suddenly, it stopped.

For a moment, the only sound heard was that of a thousand breaths, and then the turning of a handle. The breaths stopped. The doors to the Quasi grotto opened, sending the sound echoing through the hall.

"Make way for Lord Marshall Riddick the Fierce!"

The hall was instantly on its feet, everybody facing the throne. Strong and silent, Riddick appeared behind the throne, bedecked in the helmet and hidden by a metallic mask of his own. He climbed the stairs behind the seat, coming around to face the assembly. Jasmine was immediately behind him, her fan spread at her side as she stared brutally into the crowd. Several soldiers and attendants followed, parting and moving to the bottom of the stairs. Rather than sit, Riddick moved down a step and faced the Purifier.

With the death of the other, the man had automatically ascended to the exalted rank. As Riddick cared naught for the office, he hadn't opposed the succession. The brunette handed his torch to one of his underlings, and the man quickly ascended the throne, placing the beacon in a slot behind the seat.

The Purifier beckoned, and Riddick came to stand before Zhylaw's body. Riddick's normally fluid stance was nearly as hard as the rigor mortised corpse, but no one could read the tense expression on his face.

Bet he's glad I don't gotta to say anything, 'cause it wouldn't be nice.

The thought garnered a small smile, and his furrowed brow became smooth. The Purifier turned to address the assembly.

"May the legacy of our people be as the eternal flame."

He leaned down to take hold of Zhylaw's mask, raising it high above his head.

"As one rule ends," he continued, attaching the mask to Zhylaw's helmet and covering the stern face for the final time, "another begins."

With both hands he reached up and removed Riddick's mask. As the Furyan's face was revealed, a cheer burst forth within the hall.

Despite herself, Jasmine felt a swell of pride, lifting her chin the tiniest bit, never ceasing her scan of the basilica. Her eyes traveled to the balcony and she paused, surprised to find a woman staring directly at her.

Vaako's wife.

Though Dame Vaako quickly averted her gaze, Jasmine had seen enough to recognize the spark of a sharp and perhaps dangerous intelligence. Unfortunately, there was no time to address it now. Per Riddick's previous request, she sheathed her fan and descended the throne's stairs. Slowly, she came to the Purifier, palms outstretched to receive Riddick's mask.

The procedure was executed perfectly until she beheld the man's face. She paused with a start, gazing at him in disbelief. Her eyes darted to the group of lesser purifiers as though she were searching. Riddick gave a soft grunt and the woman abruptly snapped to attention, bowing and receiving the faceplate.

Simultaneously, she, Riddick, and the Purifier turned. With Riddick at the head, the three climbed the stairs, then turned to face the congregation again.

Still, Riddick did not sit. Instead, Mara came forward, receiving the piece of armor that he removed to expose his forearm. As she moved out of sight, the Purifier stepped forward, brandishing a gilded knife. Riddick presented his arm, holding it out over the throne as the Purifier approached.

"Purchased with blood. Rule in power," the Purifier affirmed, drawing the knife downward across Riddick's arm.

The blood trickled down, splashing upon the throne and making a tiny rivulet down the stairs. Mara immediately reappeared, this time with a binding for Riddick's wound. When it was dressed, the Purifier gestured to the throne, and Riddick sat.

A cry came unbidden from within the ranks.

"Hail Riddick!"

The words were echoed in stereo and most enthusiastically by the soldiers. Jasmine's eyes flew to the balcony. Would Dame Vaako reaffirm the sentiment? When Jasmine looked to where the woman had last been, however, she saw an empty space. She sighed.

Oh, Riddick - the devil crouches outside your door, and you leave your house unaware.

The pallbearers returned, and the drumbeat renewed as they carried Zhylaw's body to the catacombs. As he left, lesser purifiers came, bringing a great metallic receptacle. Sliding aside a tile in the floor, they revealed a hole, placing the receptacle over it. Jasmine wrinkled her nose, truly dreading this portion of the ceremony.

Representing the entire army, Vaako and Scales came to stand before the throne. Sliding aside their armor, each produced a knife, cutting his arm and letting the blood flow into the bowl.

"Obedience without question. Loyalty 'till Underverse come," the men said simultaneously.

"You mean it this time?"

Everyone in the hall froze. During the coronation, the new Lord Marshall did not speak, but Riddick had. They all knew that the guttural question was addressed to Lord Vaako. Ignoring the thousands of eyes boring into him from all sides, Vaako bowed low. Then he looked straight into Riddick's gaze.

Never ceasing to maintain the look, Vaako removed the plate from his other arm, cutting himself again. This cut was deep; the blood streamed into the bowl. Vaako grimaced slightly, but stood strong, holding his arm high so that all could see the blood flow. He remained there and the blood rushed until Riddick saw him falter. He quickly turned to the team that served as his medical staff.

"Take care of that."

The team hurried forward, prepared for the bloodletting. They bound Vaako's arm tightly with a tourniquet, and others wrapped a sterile cloth around Scales's forearm. Vaako was able to walk back to his post without assistance, but his skin was frighteningly white. His eyes were clear, however, and they challenged anyone who retained thoughts of his attempted treason.

The Purifier followed in kind, adding his blood to the bowl. The leader of each faction came after, slicing their skin, bringing their life force as an offering.

Mentally, Jasmine tried to distance herself, but with each oath, she was jerked back by the tang of new blood. She glanced down at Riddick. Though she couldn't see his face, she saw the tight grip of his hands on the armrests. How much blood had Riddick seen? How much had he shed? Had any of his victims been as willing as this vast horde?

When she saw Riddick's handhold tighten anew, she glanced forward. Her nostrils flared, but it had nothing to do with this renewed bloodletting.

A woman, clad in next to nothing stood before the throne. Her dress was as form fitting as the Necromonger custom, but it had far less material. The neckline plunged to her navel, the back plunged practically to her buttocks, and the skirt was slit nearly to the apex of her thighs. Her hair was red as fire, trickling down to her waist, and she wore green gemstones that brilliantly set off her eyes.

She even managed to make bleeding look graceful, as the red trickle highlighted the perfection of her alabaster skin.

"The concubines are at your disposal, Lord Marshall," she stated after saying the vow.

Jasmine looked past her and beheld a group of women. They were decently clad, but they were just as well formed as the first. The Furyan's jaw tightened until her face began to ache. Her chagrin was magnified by Riddick's ingratiating smile.

"Don't worry – definitely didn't forget about you," Riddick grinned good-naturedly.

Jasmine heard the laughter of the soldiers, but did not turn to watch. She struggled to quiet the angry sound of her breath; her mark felt hot upon her chest. When Riddick felt his mark resonate he looked up at Jasmine and smirked.

After an infuriating amount of time, the gory ritual was done. The lesser purifiers approached the bowl again, turning the top of the receptacle and letting the blood drain into the floor.

As the bowl was removed, the congregation left also. The average convert was never allowed to look upon the Quasi grotto, so this part of the ritual was not for them.

"Are you ready, Lord Marshall?" the purifier asked.

"We're ready," Riddick answered, and Jasmine turned, her heart in her throat. Then she saw that he offered his arm to Mara. She sighed yet again, turning to follow the small group to the grotto.

She'd nearly descended the stairs, when she had a sudden thought. She stopped a medic before he could leave, commandeering a small piece of cloth. Quickly returning to the throne, she hunkered down, pressing upon the throne, until the cloth was stained red.

Folding the cloth, she stuffed it into her sash and hurried to rejoin the others.