In the darkness of her mind, Meira remembered growing up with a bright hue of nostalgia. Before her Fay'ai indoctrination, she had felt normal and carefree and loved. Her family was kind and caring, and though her father was a bit distant he always took the time to answer her questions and took care of the family. Meira's mother was much closer to her, a bright woman who loved her children with a passion and spent as much time as possible with her two girls. But when both of her parents needed to work or travel, it was Meira's job to take care of little Melinae.
Melinae was a quieter child, who stuck by Meira's side for many years, becoming closer to Meira than children of her own age. That all changed, when Meira's training had begun, and she grew distant from her sister in the hopes that Melinae wouldn't see how she changed. She never wanted her sister to follow in her footsteps.
Since Meira's escape, thoughts about her sister's fate had kept her up at night, but she knew that it was impossible to return. Meira had once written her mother in a vague hope of reconciling with her past, but never received a response. Now it was clear that her escape didn't end her father's ambition for the perfect heir, just delayed it.
Melinae…. Sheraesia, took the time to grin at Meira wickedly, clearly not shocked by this revelation, before pulling up her hood and retreating into the chaos to prep for another strike. Meira moved to follow her but was interrupted by an ambitious rebel that faced the full force of the rogue's frustrated fury for getting in her way.
Malark had seen a bit of the confrontation, enough to be confused by it, but was still picking out the ranged fighters before they gathered enough attackers for a charge. Between the two guards and himself, Malark knew they wouldn't be able to hold off a full force assault without some major magic that could have some splash damage.
The wizard looked to the mezzanine to see that Thamior was simultaneously fighting off two guards and moving the last batch of unguarded nobles out in the hallway. The ballroom was emptied of noncombatants, leaving just the Lord and three of his advisors surrounded by guards and the rebel forces attempting to push through to the Healer or the Lord. Yet as he stood in the center of the dancefloor under the skylight, Malark's eye caught one figure who wasn't fleeing the room but walking calmly out towards one of the less travelled servant's entrances.
When the former ambassador spotted those flowing grey robes, his eyes remained riveted without conscious realization. But when the figure turned and the two spellcasters made eye contact, Malark's eyes widened and his blood started to boil. Reason, strategy and sense flew out the window and as the man lifted his hand in a mocking salute, Malark's eyes were drawn to his polished golden ring on his finger. Though the distance made it impossible to tell, Malark knew the three lightning bolt design etched onto the band. He knew it instinctively, he saw it in his nightmares; now, Malark saw it on the ring of a man who had betrayed him. The priest had promised Malark greatness, but more importantly, he had taken a distraught, shipwrecked sailor and told him he was family.
Any affection Malark once had for the priest had burned to ash; Malark wasn't family, he was a marked sacrificial beast to an angry god.
As the High Priest of the Lord of the Tempest walked out the door, grinning and offering an insulting wink towards his former pupil, Malark forgot about the battle. Lightning sparked through his body, and crystals of ice formed on his breath. Then the door shut and an elvish rebel blocked Malark's gaze.
Malark's eyes went white, one word was bellowed in rage. TALOS!
Malark os Mys Shari lived to his name. The air exploded with the fury of a Stormborn.
Meira had lost track of her quarry when her instincts screamed danger. Her eyes burned as she turned towards the dance floor, and the bright flash of light and energy was so quick that sound was a distant second. When her eyes recovered, she registered the sounds she had missed. The first was a large boom of thunder and the second the shattering of glass. The skylight had burst, and lightning had struck the same spot her lover had been standing just a moment before.
Yet as she looked upon him now, Meira barely recognized Malark. The half-elf wizard was standing with arms to his side, and his head tilted back towards the broken skylight. He had divested himself of his gloves, and his formal attire was in shambles. His arms stood bare as the sleeves had been ripped off by the bolt of energy, and that same energy sparked and pulsed up and down his arms. To her eyes, the energy sparked like lightning and seemed to form runes she couldn't read. Malark's doublet had blown open showing a black undershirt and hanging on his shoulders like a vest. With each inhale of breath, the wizard's chest heaved, and with each exhale ice formed and shards fell to his feet. Where his boots stood, the floor had been cracked and jagged patterns of burns scattered the ground around him.
Then he struck.
Two of the rebels had been hiding behind a pillar in the ballroom, Malark's first supercharged bolt of lightning blew a three-foot oval through the marble. Both opponents were down simultaneously, before they could blink; one was killed upon impact and only let out the ghost of a gasp and the other dodged just enough to lose his right arm and a chunk of his shoulder. Meira may have had unpleasant memories of the scream the wounded rebel unleashed had she not already been focusing on another rebel that was fleeing in terror with a weapon drawn.
As Meira glanced around the room, she saw that the room's occupants, allies and enemies alike seemed to be intimidated by that abject display of power. Malark had thrown lightning before but the previous bolts had compared that one like arrows to a ballista. Felosial's two guards were begging her to retreat further from Malark, but they wouldn't touch or drag her back. The healer resisted, attempting to speak to Malark, but energy surrounding the Stormborn was enough to push her back a few paces. When the swirl of energy seemed to reach it's peak, Malark let out another bellowing challenge to the sky and started shooting out spells with abandon, hurling balls of ice, rays of cold, bolts of lightning and claps of thunder in quick succession.
Meira's training screamed at her to find cover and strike during the chaos with quick decisive attacks. Knowing that her sister would follow the training to the letter, Meira chose to ignore it completely and follow the other instincts insisting that get to Malark and save him from himself. Meira wasn't the only one with those thoughts and she could hear Felosial screaming at Malark to get his attention. The wizard appeared to be in a trance and the blonde's screams did nothing to change that.
Violet hair whipped rapidly as Meira darted quickly towards the center, hoping to find some way of restoring Malark to sense. As she looked around the rogue could see the devastation he was causing; at least a dozen rebels had fallen to lightning and ice in the minute since the initial bolt struck. Rays of energy were flying with abandon and a storm seemed to rage from overhead, fueling the tempest on the ground. Whether by fortune or intent, none of Malark's strikes had hit his allies, though some of the Lord's guards had come to close and found their shields had become solid blocks of ice.
As Meira looked up she saw the rebel leader staring at her wizard, frozen in fear. Her two elvish hostages were crouched at her feet whimpering in terror and turning away from what could be a blast of death. Time seemed to slow as Malark raised a hand to deliver another strike, one that seemed to be charged enough to cause significant collateral damage. Hums of energy could be felt from both the enchanted ring on his hand and the burnt silver ring, dangling around his neck sporting the three lightning bolts of Talos.
But in the moment before he could strike, the Stormborn felt a fearless hand seize him upon the chin and tug his eyes down towards a very familiar violet stare. Her eyes were concerned but they were also commanding; they expected better of him than wanton violence that could lead to civilian casualties. The rage didn't leave immediately, but the strike was not unleashed. Instead Malark's hand lowered gradually, and felt another hand met his chest and attempt to soothe his pounding heart.
As his breathing slowed, the white of Malark's eyes did fade, and once again it was the sarcastic, passionate and dedicated wizard looking into the violet eyes and not the merciless Stormborn. As Malark came down from the high of his power surge, he finally understood what the Lords of the Tempest had wanted from him. Whatever that man had triggered in him tonight was something that any cult would want to get ahold of. His blood seemed to hold the key to a catalyst, one that Talos would love to lay claim to.
But he had control now, and all that was thanks to the woman who had captivated him from the first second. She didn't know how grateful he was for her in that moment, and he would have to change that once the two of them had escaped this mess. "Thanks for that. I don't know what you did but…. Thank you. I hope I didn't…. that none of my spells…."
Meira plastered on a forced smirk that was dripping with barely hidden relief, but her voice was steady as she told the wizard "You would never strike me, they didn't even come close." With her hand still on his chin, Meira directed his gaze to a safe Felosial, and could feel even more relief flow through his body.
"Those two are the real threat! All remaining forces kill them before it's too late!" The shout came from Presmoira, her desperation was palpable as her forces attempted to rally.
It was already too late, and even as the remaining assailants gathered to attack the rogue and the wizard, they didn't find two lovers lost in each other's eyes but two partners standing back to back ready to meet them.
Hours later, it would startle Malark and Meira how well they moved together. Each time Meira struck and disarmed her opponent, she would find him blasted back by a spell. Each time a rebel managed to dodge the chill of Malark's attacks, they were met with a knife in the leg. Meira's stolen weapons were turned into projectiles and found their mark and Malark blasted back any who got too close with thunder. One rebel got close enough to Meira's shoulder but found himself twitching on the floor as a furious blast of lightning punished his audacity.
It was a dance, perhaps not the one meant for this ballroom but one of beauty, grace and spirit.
While the two fought as champions, they did not finish off the rest by themselves. The remaining guards had recognized their chance and moved to strike down the rebels while the duo danced. Within minutes the opposing force had been laid to waste, either captured or killed. Their devious leader was surrounded and peppered with arrows before she could grab either of the hostages. While none of the hits were fatal, they prompted a speedy retreat.
The tension in the ballroom had given way to an exhausted calm, and order seemed to be returning as Felosial had risen back to her feet and joined the wizard and the rogue standing in the center of the room.
The healer was overwhelmed in her gratitude and threw her arms around each of her protectors in a tight hug. Meira was shocked to be on the receiving end of the first embrace and almost forgot to have a negative reaction when Malark had the same treatment. As the rogue turned to say something to the blonde another movement out of the corner of her eye caught Meira's attention.
Without thought Meira moved, intercepting the path of her sister. The assassin had waited calmly, disappearing in the chaos for the opportune moment to end her target. But Meira was just as fast, if not faster than the quickest blades. With one enchanted dagger, she parried the thrusting blade and caught her sister in a wrist lock. But the Fay'ai training served her sister well, as she turned with the momentum of her charge, releasing her intended blade and disarming Meira of her enchanted dagger at the same time.
The blue haired assassin grasped the enchanted dagger out of the air, pivoted and struck down towards the spot where the Lady Felosial once stood. Instead the dagger found the arm of her protector, as the wizard had pulled her out of harm's way and placed his body in between the two warring sisters and his charge. The dagger sliced deep, and Malark cried out in pain.