The blazing sun jaunted about in the sky. Slowly, the Jubilee was reaching its zenith. "There's so much going on here." Mina thought to herself as she held tightly onto her bag, afraid of being separated from the only thing familiar to her in the entire city. Bright banners and shop curtains colored the sky as they held themselves proudly in the air, suspended by magic. She wandered around in breathless delight. Never before had she seen such vividity or vitality. "And I thought Brother Jerich was bad when he got into the wine." Mina giggled as she watched a gang of drunkards stumble about. Wine and cheap ale sloshed from their mugs and foamed upon the street. "I wonder if I should help them." She asked herself as she pulled her way from the crowd. Suddenly a man in a black cloak tumbled into her and sent her sprawling to the ground. "My bag!" She screamed as it was torn from her grasp by the stranger. Mina scramble to her feet as the stranger turned to run into the crowd. "No you don't, Ermon." A Woman's voice called out from behind Mina. The thief stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around. "Larian! Damn you! I have a job to do. Don't get in my way!" Fear cracked his voice as he shouted at a woman cloaked in a blood red robe as she stepped foreword from the crowd. "You know the laws as well as I do. No one will tolerate this treachery." She warned as she took another step foreword. "What? Just because I pull a little job on the day of the Jubilee I get in trouble?" The thief laughed nervously as he stepped away from the robed woman. "I'm sorry. Here, take it back." He threw the bag at her with unsteady hands. It landed soundly at her feet. The robed woman looked down at the bag and then turned her full attention back to the thief. "You know damn well why I'm here. They didn't send me as an errand boy for some minor infraction." The thief, visibly shaken by these words, stumbled back and fell. "Tell me where the mask is, and I'll kill you swiftly. Or, I can make your death as painful as it needs to be." She drew a slender dagger. In the light it glistened with the taint of strong and twisted magic. "I, It's not here! I passed it off to a man in the tavern! I swear! Don't kill me! I don't have it!" The thief begged as he scrambled to get away from her. "Pity, that makes my job even harder. And you know stealing from the boss warrants death. Too bad." The robed woman laughed as the thief sprawled fixated to the spot upon which he sat. "Wait!" Mina called out as she rushed foreword to stop the robed woman. "Every life has purpose. It's special and should not be cast away so lightly!" Mina reached forward to catch the woman by the shoulder. The woman stopped and turned to face Mina. "Do you honestly believe that?" She laughed as she looked into Minas eyes. Mina nodded silently. "Even the life of a thief has value?" The woman asked coldly as her eyes burned their way into Mina's soul. "Every life has value in the eyes of the gods." Mina spoke softly as she trembled beneath the woman's icy gaze. "Hmm, the gods. They stopped caring long ago." The woman silently spoke. "No, they still care." Mina replied, fearful of this woman and the cynicism in her voice. "Fine." The woman turned to the thief still affixed to the spot he had fallen upon. "Because the gods value your life, and today is the Jubilee, I will not kill you today. But be warned, the bounty still stands, and the gods may not be so caring tomorrow." She warned as she sheathed her dagger and turned to disappear into the ever changing crowd. The thief scrambled to his feet and was gone before Mina could say anything. Mina slowly bent down and picked up her bag. The sky around her seemed to darken as storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Mina shivered from an unnatural coldness as she made her way through the busy streets. Something was happening, and Mina could feel it coming.

Explosions rocked the stage as the contestants in the fourth round of the magic duels tried their best to kill their opponents. Heir Ottoman laughed maliciously as he reversed a particularly nasty fireball back upon his opponent. "That one. The one in the black robes fighting Alledri." One of the head mages picked Heir Ottoman out among the battling contestants. "He uses spells I've never seen before." "Could he be a rouge mage?" another magi asked the council as they watched the duels. "No, he's far too powerful." Another responded. "Then, could the rumors be true? Could that be Heir Ottoman?" a slightly younger council member asked. "We will see, we will see." Yannis the Archmage motioned the others to be silent. "Nothing but misfortune befalls a man who jumps to conclusions." They turned their attention back to the field as a burst of crimson light scorched the mage they had identified as Alledri. He fell to the ground amidst the ashes and cinders. Heir Ottoman could feel the power. It began to change him. His eyes burned with cruelty and malice. He had not used these spells in a long time, and he had forgotten the power that backed them. Laughter laced with desire bubbled out as he could feel the power again. The power that was harnessed through a lifetime of independent study.

The flash and bang ended this round. Now that the duelists had proven themselves, it was time for the three way eliminations. After some sorting, the next round started. Heir Ottoman faced two magi from the guild of Sailion. "Truce? You know what he can do." One of them shouted to the other. "Fine. Back me." The second replied as he prepared his first spell in his mind. The first unleashed a fiery bolt. The projectile seared its way across the field and burned the air it cut through. Heir Ottoman raised his hand before him and chanted below the din of battle. The streaming flame slashed through the air and veered sharply into the ground just moments before it would have struck its target true. "Ha Ha ha ha. Your flaming arrow has sputtered and died. Now taste the gossamer strands from the bow of Sylphi!" Heir Ottoman shouted as he drew an imaginary arrow back in an illusionary bow, and let it fly. The wind screamed as an invisible attack cut through it. Shards of wind and rage cut through the mage. Slashing and tearing, rending flesh from bone. The first magi collapsed, unable to bear the pain from his unnatural wounds. "DIE!" The second shouted as he unleashed a wave of ice. It whipped about and bore down upon Heir Ottoman before he could react. Sapphire shards of razor ice slashed and seared. He braced himself as the shards cut and shattered upon him. The first magi was quickly carried off to be healed as the second held the barrage. "What is the spell that is being used against our mystery magi?" One of the magi asked Yannis as they watched the torrential storm lash the field. "Something fairly new. We mixed the spells Ice Wall and Ice Dagger. The results are quite impressive even if it takes a while to cast." Yannis replied. Slowly the duelists finished the round and gathered to watch in awe as the magi held the wall in place for more than eight minuets. "Yannis! Do something! Surely the man must be dead!" one of the magi spectators begged as the frost storm lashed on. "Wait, and see." Yannis replied skeptically as the ice slowly began to dissipate. Slowly a figure began to emerge from the ice. Gasps echoed in the silence of the stage as Heir Ottoman steadily approached the ice mage. Heir Ottoman was nearly untouched. His sleeves were shredded and mostly gone, exposing his shimmering silver gauntlets. Several cuts tore his robe and stained small patches red with blood, but other than this he was relatively untouched.. "Shadow Fall!" Heir Ottoman commanded as he wove an intricate pattern into the air before him. The mage shouted in surprise as he was engulfed by his own shadow. It absorbed itself as it wrapped him in an ethereal blanket of fear. The mage fell to his knees gibbering senselessly. No one dared move as the spectacle unfolded around them. "Who will be next?" Heir Ottoman asked the few magi duelists that remained.

His voice has gone cold and sharp. Madness no longer blazed in his eyes as he no longer was drunk with the power he could wield. Something made him stop. Something, even colder than the power of the last spell, gripped him. As winter grasped the ethereal planes, so he felt it too.