Chapter Ten
Ascension Day
'A Demon?' Aiushtha gasped, nearly tripping as she stared at Davion in shock.
'Yeah.' Davion confirmed simply.
'And he's after you?'
'Yeah.'
Aiushtha shook her head. 'And if he succeeds, he'll be able to unmake creation?'
'Yeah.'
'He'll be able to do whatever he wants with it.' Mirana added. 'But surely the Eldwurms can do something about him?' She was now walking alongside Sagan, unable to revel in her regained mobility now that Terrorblade was the chief topic of conversation. 'They are powerful, and they too have the powers of creation.'
Aiushtha shook her head again. 'The powers of creation were probably split between them to keep any one individual from destroying everything.'
'Just like Terrorblade wants to.' Caewyn stated. 'Surely there are better things he can do with that power.'
Marci made a few gestures Davion did not fully understand, but she seemed to be miming either a crown or something like Mirana's tiara.
'Power corrupts.' Mirana translated. 'And absolute power corrupts absolutely.' She gazed at Marci thoughtfully. 'Didn't Kashurra tell us that?'
Marci nodded.
Aiushtha considered what she had been told. They had rested overnight, and now pressed on as the morning sun climbed higher. Aiushtha had proven to be friendly enough, and had spent much of last evening trying to learn more about them and their adventures—or misadventures, perhaps.
Davion had thought it only fair to warn her about Terrorblade, since he was after Slyrak. He had also decided to tell her about Slyrak, if only because she might be able to help him. Sadly, dealing with Dragon Knights stuck with the souls of Eldwurms was beyond her skill.
'If he is after you, as you say he is, then he'll probably come this way.' Aiushtha murmured. 'Where is it that you intend to fight him?'
'Dragon Keep.' Eserren answered. 'It's one of the most heavily defended bastions on the continent.'
Aiushtha was silent for a moment as she thought about something, then she nodded. 'I'll tell the centaurs here to find somewhere to hide, assuming that they do not wish to fight. If I can meet you at Dragon Keep, I will, with as many allies as I can gather.'
They all stopped and stared up at her. 'You'd do that for us?' Mirana asked.
Aiushtha dug at the ground with her hooves. 'I like you. But there's more to it than that. If you're right about this Terrorblade,' Caewyn suppressed a snigger at the sound of the name, 'then if he wins, there won't be anywhere for me to hide, and nothing left for me to protect. If your Dragon Knights don't kill me on sight, then yes, I will help you. I know where Dragon Keep is, it's hard to miss.'
'We'd be grateful.' Davion assured her. 'And we'll likely have need of skilled healers.'
'Then it's settled.' Aiushtha pointed down the path. 'Follow this path and you'll reach the edge of the forest. If I can find you before you reach Dragon Keep, I'll stick with you. Keep an eye out for me. Either way, I hope we meet again.' She leaned down and did a sort of bow, bending her front knees. 'Until then, mind which flowers you pick, and be safe.' She turned and galloped back towards the centaur village.
'Not what I expected.' Eserren murmured.
'She was nice though,' Caewyn said. 'I hope we see her again.'
Fymryn said nothing. She had been very quiet ever since they had awoken, answering questions with as few words as possible, almost constantly downcast.
Mirana wondered if she simply did not want to part with them, or perhaps she was afraid of losing them to Terrorblade.
Mirana shifted her gaze to Marci, who was at Davion's side again. She was still teaching him her signs and whistles. He was getting better, and could now attempt to hold simple conversations with her just using hand-signs.
Mirana had to admit that she envied them, simply because it seemed that they could possibly have what they wanted.
Not like her all those years ago, before she had gained the love of Selemene.
Six years ago…
Mirana closed the door behind her as she stepped into Kashurra's study. It was as it always was, neat and tidy, bookshelves thoroughly lined with tomes, the papers and scrolls on the desk neatly organised.
Kashurra stood and bowed. 'Welcome, Princess.' He glanced over her shoulder as he straightened. 'Where is Marci?'
'She's sparring with Hyses.'
'I almost feel sorry for Hyses,' Kashurra chuckled, 'but he can handle himself. Still, it is unusual to see you without her.'
Mirana sat first, Kashurra only taking a seat behind his desk afterwards, as was customary. Kashurra's study always seemed quieter than the rest of the palace, sounds seemingly muffled. Maybe it was all of the books.
'How can I help you, Princess?' Kashurra asked patiently.
Mirana wrung her hands in her lap, embarrassed and uncertain of how to say this. She couldn't tell her parents about this, and she couldn't even tell Marci. But she had to tell somebody, or else it would be discovered sooner or later and not in a good way. Kashurra was the only one she could trust.
'I… I have a problem, Viceroy. But what we discuss must remain between us. Can you keep a secret?'
Kashurra nodded. 'You have but to ask, Princess.'
Mirana hesitated. 'I've found that I… this is difficult for me to say.'
Kashurra held up a hand and smiled understandingly. 'I think I know what it is you need to say. I'm not judging you, Princess. You have found that you are attracted to women rather than men.'
Mirana stared at him. 'You knew?'
'I guessed.' Kashurra answered. 'It happens.'
Mirana was still surprised by his reactions to what would be, for her parents, a potential disaster.
Kashurra noticed her expression and continued to speak. 'Before I entered your father's service, I travelled. I saw a great many things, some you would not believe. I will have to tell you about the things I have seen, one day. But I am familiar with your plight.' He sighed, sounding a little sad now. 'And you have found that you are attracted to Marci in particular.'
'You guessed that too?'
'It makes sense. She is always there for you, always loyal, kind and understanding.' Kashurra surmised. 'I wish it could be otherwise, Princess, I really do. But you cannot be with her.'
'I know. I have my duty to the Imperium.'
'Love can be as cruel as it can be kind.' Kashurra said sagely. 'I cannot pretend to imagine your pain, for I have never been in love myself, but know that I sympathise.
Believe me, nothing would make me happier than you being able to choose somebody who you truly love, especially if Marci were to reciprocate your feelings.'
'I don't think she would.' Mirana murmured. 'She cares about me, but not in that way. And I've seen the way she looks at certain members of the Sun Guard. She seems to like tall men.'
'And muscles.' Kashurra added. 'I've noticed that too.'
'Sometimes I think you know us better than we know ourselves.'
'An outsider can tell us much about ourselves, because we like to deny certain truths.' Kashurra told her. He sighed. 'I am sorry, Princess. You have a great responsibility, one I would not wish upon many. And though you will have many privileges, you must always bear in mind your responsibilities. Sadly, responsibility can mean giving up the things we want, even the things we love.'
Mirana blinked rapidly. Kashurra waited for her to overcome her emotion patiently. 'I understand. Viceroy, if my parents were to hear of this, they would… they might send Marci away.'
'Do not worry, Princess. I won't tell a soul, you have my word.'
Mirana managed a small smile. 'Thank you, Kashurra. You are a good friend, a true friend, to me and Marci.'
Kashurra's looked away for a moment, his features oddly sorrowful. 'I am… glad that you think that of me, Princess. I will do whatever I can to be worthy of your trust.'
Mirana stood, bringing their meeting to an end. 'I hope that we have something happier to talk about the next time we meet.'
'Likewise, Princess.' Kashurra agreed. 'And if I may make a suggestion, perhaps you should stop by the pantries on your way to the barracks. I imagine that Marci will be hungry after her training.'
Before...
Selemene swept her hair over her shoulders and smoothed her robes before entering the inner sanctum. The position of High Priestess was not quite the same as the position of "Princess of the Moon", a role Selemene would come up with later. Selemene's role was to relay direct commands and decrees from Mene to the rest of the priesthood, the Midnight Swords—the guardians and crusaders of Mene's order—and the Nightblades—Mene's chosen warriors, blessed with a measure of her power, sometimes called upon to act as assassins. She also effectively ran the day to day activities of the Temple of Mene.
Mene was waiting for her, sat on her throne of marble. She was tall and regal, like Selemene, but her hair was shorter and midnight dark, and her eyes were a darker shade of violet. She had always looked stern, yet now her expression was severe.
Selemene knelt and bowed her head. 'You asked to see me, my lady.'
'High Priestess,' Mene stood, and though she observed the formalities, Selemene could tell that she was impatient to get to some important matter. Selemene could guess what it was, the seemingly inevitable war which had trouble her so deeply, worrying her in a time in which she should have been overjoyed. 'What word from the missionaries we sent to this so-called "Kingdom of the Sun"?'
'The Prince of the Sun is willing to speak with you. He is open to co-operation with us.'
Mene's face remained severe. 'And does he still claim godhood?'
'Not exactly, my lady.' Selemene answered cautiously. 'He claims to channel divine power, to be a representative here in the mortal world.'
Mene frowned. 'That will not do. Nor will his supposed power over me.'
'My lady, he is willing to parley.'
'If his claims are to be believed, he could be a threat to me. Anything which could thwart the Dark Moon must be dealt with.'
'Do you really believe that conjuring the Dark Moon is necessary, my lady? There are only a few who truly oppose you, and our forces can defeat them.'
'Every day, more and more of our allies desert us. Chaos threatens the world. People abandon their values whenever it is convenient.' Mene stated, pacing back and forth, agitation and anger ever present. 'The threat of the Dark Moon may be the only thing which forces them to return to the true faith.'
The Sisterhood of the Moon had started with good intentions, portraying Mene as a guiding light of righteousness and virtue. And so She had been, to begin with. She had been a light in the darkest of nights, and Her warriors had protected people from the horrors of the dark.
But then others had arisen. The Omniscience had revealed itself and gained a following, his Omniknights converting many, easily gaining favour by eradicating monsters and devils of every stripe. Though they made no claims to be servants of divinity, dragon slayers had begun to band together, calling themselves the Dragon Knights, slaying dragons with great success when Mene's servants, even Her Nightblades, could not.
More and more people were turning to other faiths, simply because Mene and Her servants could not be everywhere. Only the Coriel'Tauvi remained steadfastly loyal, or had done. Now even some of them were turning to other deities.
And now, worst of all for Mene, came this Prince of the Sun. For many years, Mene and Her loyal followers had laboured to create a deadly weapon, a spell of terrible power: the Dark Moon.
It was supposed to be a last resort. If the people of the world succumbed to wickedness and darkness, Mene would force true darkness upon them until they saw the error of their ways or perished.
Though Selemene was loyal and wished for people to adhere to goodness, and even though Mene would protect those who were faithful to Her, Selemene did not want her daughter to live in the world without light. Nor would Filomena have wanted people to be forced to choose between Mene and death.
What if that choice was put to Filomena? What would she say?
'You are troubled, Selemene.' Mene noticed. 'Speak your mind.'
Selemene swallowed. 'My lady… I… I believe that a war would cost us too dearly. If this Prince of the Sun could become an ally, we would grow stronger. He might even allow us to spread our faith amongst his people. He has many followers, all devoted to the sun, yet the moon is part of the heavens too. When night comes, they can venerate the moon instead.'
They needed allies. The Omniscience was aware of the Dark Moon, and emissaries had brought dire warnings to the Sisterhood. If the idea of using the Dark Moon was not abandoned, it would mean war. The Omniknights were not to be taken lightly, and there had been incidents in which soldiers of Mene and Omniknights had killed each other. They could ill afford to war with another foe.
Mene was not appeased by this idea. Selemene now saw the true issue: Mene had grown tired of competing with other deities. Worship allowed deities to live, it was, as Kael's tome had rightfully stated, the lifeblood of a divine being. And now that people were turning away from Mene, She was starting to weaken.
This was not about righteousness any longer. It was about survival.
She was going to unleash the Dark Moon if this continued. People would be forced to worship Her to survive, the other deities would weaken, and Mene would reign supreme once again, but She would not be loved as She once had been.
She would be feared.
'Have our forces prepare for war, High Priestess.' Mene instructed. 'And send the Moonsingers to me. I will not fade into the night, not without struggle. I am the moon, and the moon shall endure.'
And it when that Selemene knew what she had to do, though it may break her heart to do it.
For the good of the world, Mene had to fall.
Ascension Day.
This was the day when, many centuries ago, in a time known only in myth and legend, long since lost to true memory, a man had emerged from the Sovereign Peaks with a vision.
He had supposedly been blessed by the gods, bestowed with the power and grace of the light itself, a beacon in troubled times full of evil and darkness. He had come forth to unite the people of his homeland and build a great empire, a bastion of hope, a nation in which good could thrive and progress and enlightenment could flourish.
They had called him the Prince of the Sun.
He had laid the foundation stones of what would become the first city of this grand nation, the heart of what would soon be known as the Helio Imperium. By his will, Rasolir had been built and people across the land had flocked to his cause, protected by the Prince's armies and safeguarded within his cities. He had been chosen as the first Emperor by his grateful people, and thus he had ascended to be the first to rule from the Solar Throne.
The children descended from him were said to be blessed as he was, and possessed of the same virtues.
Shabarra certainly had none of the Prince's goodness. Whatever Mirana may have become during her exile, she could surely not be any worse.
Kashurra had faith in her, and he had no faith in Shabarra.
Shabarra had to be deposed.
And the time had come at last. On this day, the anniversary of the first Emperor's ascension, he would fall.
Kashurra stood upon the balcony in what had been Mirana's old room, neglected since the Bloody Dance. Kashurra had quietly ensured that it remain untouched, apart from when it was cleaned. The same went for the chamber next door, where Marci had once lived. Even the book of songs Mirana had been learning from on that day was left open on the table, on the exact page she had stopped on. She and Marci had performed duets, Mirana singing as Marci whistled a tune. He had always enjoyed listening to them.
He remembered entering once, sent to investigate nightly raids on the pantries. If this had been any other day, he might have smiled with sad nostalgia at the memory. Marci had not hidden the evidence as well as she thought she had, having cream and jam on her face, and had been hastily swallowing the last of the cake as he entered, trying to look innocent with crumbs lodged in her clothes.
Kashurra had not said anything. He'd seen no harm in letting them be children while they still could, and poor Marci was always hungry.
How many times had Mirana and Marci stood on this balcony together? They'd dreamed about travelling around the Imperium, maybe further, having adventures together. In later years, Mirana had stood here at Marci's side, knowing that her handmaiden would always be there for her, even when she became Empress. That alone had eased her fears, making the inevitable easier to face.
Shabarra had taken everything from them, even their dreams.
Even from where he stood, he could see the heads atop the spikes on the Sunrise Gates. Before Shabarra had taken the Solar Throne, there had been neither spikes nor heads upon those gates.
The people of Rasolir felt fear. They felt anger. Today, they would know hatred.
It was at times like this when he sometimes wished there was no silence, that he could hear the music once again. It had felt comforting to be guided. During those first difficult years without it, he had been confused, lost and had known only despair when forced to make his own decisions.
Though he could think for himself instinctively now, it was no easier to choose between the evils he faced.
He only just heard the door open and close, and quiet steps as somebody approached.
Kashurra did not turn his head. He knew who it was. He had expected this, though he had not hoped for it.
'What brings you here, Tathen?' Kashurra asked, knowing of only one answer.
'I know, Viceroy. I know the truth.'
Shabarra stepped onto the throne room balcony, which faced the Sunrise Gates. His court mage cast a simple spell which would amplify Shabarra's voice, allowing all on the streets below to hear him.
They were all gathered across the city, listening to the speech was mandatory by Shabarra's will. Only those truly incapable of moving were excused, following the advice of Kashurra.
'My subjects,' Shabarra began, his chest swelling with pride as he looked over his city, his Imperium. He had earned this, he had deserved it, and so he had taken it without remorse. 'Today is a day we all know and revere: Ascension Day. I, your wise and benevolent ruler, have called upon you all to bear witness to my glory as God Emperor, and the glory of the Imperium under my wise leadership.'
In the shadows beneath a makeshift infirmary in the Old District, Irosin, one of Kashurra's agents, approached the fat urn which was filled with a volatile, combustible mixture. The fuse trailed down its side, impregnated with pitch to aid in burning.
He checked his hourglass. No long now.
That morning, he had received a scroll from a courier sent by the God Emperor himself, bearing a missive sealed by the God Emperor himself, using the royal seal, and signed by the God Emperor too.
It asked him to do something terrible, but necessary for the good of the Imperium.
'Do you, Tathen?' Kashurra did not turn around. 'I have a great many secrets, my friend. In truth, I am glad, for secrets eat away at our hearts and souls. One day, I will be free of them, but today is not that day. I suspect that in reality, you know very little about me, about who and what I truly am.'
'I know that you are a traitor.' Tathen threw something down. It clattered and rolled across the floor, stopping on the balcony at Kashurra's feet. It was a replica of the royal seal. 'There is supposed to be only one of those seals, yet you have one too.'
'You searched my quarters.'
'I did. I have suspected you for some time, ever since you ordered us to move those explosives. They're distributed across the city now, concentrated in the slums. And those scrolls which were sent out were not written by the Emperor, were they? No. You wrote them.'
'I know that many of you question my right to rule, since the Senate cast its votes in favour of Mirana. But my right is ordained by divine will, and my rulership is righteous.' Shabarra declared, reading the speech Kashurra had prepared for him. 'Mirana would have been a weak ruler, too soft and generous to be effective. And she is no more. I did what I had to do, for the sake of the Imperium, the Imerium I was meant to rule all along, denied me simply because some of you were too fickle, too weak, too keen to preserve the old ways, to see that the strong should prosper and rule, whilst the weak invite only complacency.
Have I not been strong and merciful? Is my rule not righteous? I am your God Emperor, chosen by the gods themselves to be their mouthpiece upon this earth. And that, I shall continue to do until the gods call for me.'
Lina sat with the Wraith on the balcony of Marsian's house, both of them annoyed and disgusted.
Shabarra was merciful?
'Merciful?' the Wraith scoffed, giving voice to Lina's thoughts. 'The hell he is. If he's merciful, then I'm as beautiful as Selemene.'
'You're not the only one who thinks poorly of him.' Lina pointed down at the crowd. 'Look.'
There were muttering and murmuring amongst themselves, angry and rebellious. They were jostling the guards, and the guards were subtly giving way, also far from happy. For too long had they been forced to brutalise and subjugate their own people, and Shabarra's words were insult added to injury.
They'd had enough.
'By the Solar Goddess!' Lina breathed. 'Look at them, Wraith. If he says the wrong thing now, they'll go mad! They might riot out of sheer spite.'
'Kashurra was right.' the Wraith whispered hoarsely. 'This could be it. No, Slayer. This is it. This is the day.'
'Yes. I did write those orders, and I sent them myself. I believe in being personally responsible whenever possible.' Kashurra said patiently. 'Though I have been forced to work in the shadows, my goals furthered by proxies and falsehoods, I take responsibility for all of it. That is but one price I must pay.'
'You want those explosives detonated today!' Tathen shouted. 'You've issued orders under the name of the God Emperor telling your agents, my friends, to set them off!'
Kashurra sighed. 'Yes. That is what I have done. And that is what must be done.'
'Why? Why?'
'You should know why. Shabarra has made no secret of his distaste for the poor and lowly. He has often spoken of levelling the slums, and a great many of those explosives have been placed in the poorest districts. The explosions will turn the people against Shabarra once and for all.
I do this for the Imperium. I do this for a better tomorrow. I do this for a brighter future, a future in which the rightful Empress sits upon the Solar Throne.' Now he turned to face Tathen, and Tathen took a step back, the intensity within Kashurra's eyes and the harshness of his face a physical force. 'You know as well as I do that the true heir lives. Shabarra has brought the Imperium to the edge of ruin. His own people want him gone. I am merely giving them what they want, and I intend to replace him with a just and fair leader, one who will lead the Imperium through the night and into a new dawn.'
'You… you are insane!'
Kashurra shook his head. 'I do what must be done, Tathen. Though it pains me, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Some will suffer today so that others can live.' He extended his hand. 'Come, my friend. There is no need for us to be enemies. You have seen what Shabarra is. You know what he is. Together, we can help to bring prosperity back to the Imperium. It can become a beacon of goodness and a bastion of vigilance once again.'
Irosin turned the hourglass again. It was the last revolution. When the sand ran out, he would light the fuse.
He knew what would happen to the people above, but he had his orders. The God Emperor had made his will clear, and Irosin would carry it out.
He did not know that across the city, others had similar orders. He did not know that each of them had been chosen because they were unflinchingly loyal to Shabarra and utterly ruthless.
He would never know the truth, for there was one more thing he did not know: the fuses had been specially treated so that they would detonate the explosive urns almost instantly.
Nobody would live to reveal the truth. That was a burden only Kashurra would bear.
Irosin prepared the second scroll he had been given, the same kind the others had. No chances were being taken. The fuses would be lit by a simple spell written upon the parchment scrolls.
Above him, those who had been unable to leave their sickbeds lay vulnerable and helpless. Workers crippled in accidents, pregnant women, children too young to leave their mothers or stricken by malnutrition, elderly people too ill and too worn out to return home.
All of them would die today.
Irosin did not know what this would cause. He would never see the atrocity he would commit by the will of another.
Perhaps that was a mercy.
'I can't let you do this!' Tathen hissed. 'I won't!'
'Who else knows?'
Tathen shook his head. 'I came here to learn the truth first, and I have. And now the Emperor must know too!'
Kashurra shook his head as Tathen bolted towards the door. He lifted his hand.
The door slammed shut.
Confused, Tathen pulled it open again. It was wrenched out of his grasp, dislocating two of his fingers.
Terrified now, and hissing with pain, Tathen wheeled round. A strange, violet light emanated from the skin of Kashurra's hand.
'I cannot let you leave, Tathen.' Kashurra stated, his voice low and dangerous. 'And I cannot allow you to tell the truth. It is not time for it to be known. Not yet.'
Tathen drew a dagger in his uninjured hand.
'I am sorry, my friend. You leave me no choice. For the good of the Imperium, you must die.'
Tathen rushed at him, only for lashing whips of violet light to envelop his limbs. They tightened unbearably, snapping bones. Before he could scream, more tendrils wound around him, covering his mouth, snaking around his neck and torso.
As his muffled screams went unheard by all but Kashurra, as his body was crushed and his neck squeezed beyond the capability of drawing air, Tathen saw the eyes and realised one last truth.
Those glowing purple eyes were the eyes of something terrible. They were the eyes of something inhuman.
As the life was squeezed from his body, his bones splintering and his organs rupturing, Tathen's last thought was that Kashurra's true eyes were the eyes of a monster.
'This is the day on which our fortunes change forever!' Shabarra was coming to the end of his speech. 'This is the day when you see what kind of ruler I am!'
He spread his arms wide, as if encompassing the sun and the city.
'I have given you justice.'
He had given them fear.
'I have given you security.'
He had given them anger.
'And now, I will give you prosperity!'
He would give them hatred.
Kashurra turned away from the broken, cooling body of Tathen, blood soaking his clothes where his bones had been shattered and forced through skin as he was crushed. A steadily growing pool of crimson now surrounded him. He would not be missed, and his body would be disposed of later.
Kashurra looked out at the sunrise gates, beyond them, to the continent where they were now.
He missed them. Though this act would bring the day of their return closer, it was still one he would rather not have committed.
But there was no other way. It had to be done, for the Imperium, and for the future.
There was always a price to pay.
Kashurra exhaled and closed his eyes. 'Forgive me, Princess. I do this for you.'
He opened his eyes. It was time, and he had to see this.
Another price he had to pay.
Irosin read the last words of the scroll aloud, as did his fellow agents. Flames flashed into being, catching the end of the fuse.
He and his compatriots did not have time to run. They did not even have time to think about it.
The flames leapt up the fuse before he even realised that he had been betrayed, and his world, and the world of many above, came apart and ended in a flash of burning flame.
Shabarra gasped and stepped back as the first fist of roiling flame shot into the sky, stonework flying across the city. That one had been in the Old District, tearing a chunk out of the slums and killing dozens of people. Falling debris shattered roofs and crushed unlucky people in the streets.
A second firestorm erupted in Weaver's Street, levelling the entire street and killing everybody there. A third explosion blew up a schoolhouse in one of the middle districts, taking the lives of over thirty children.
More detonations tore chunks out of the slums of the Old District. Several Senators' homes were brought low by smaller explosives, but other innocents were still killed. A market in the Western Quarter was obliterated, at least a hundred people ripped apart too. The street in which Kashurra had found Marci with her throat torn open disappeared, rent apart by a column of fire.
Hundreds of people had just died, and several districts had been gutted.
Shabarra stared in shock. How had this happened? Had some enemy, maybe Stonehall, done this? Or were there enemies within Kashurra had somehow missed?
In the end, it mattered little. The result was the same.
As smoke rose over the city like a funeral shroud, the people below believed one thing: that Shabarra had done this. He had promised to show them what kind of ruler he was, and he had delivered upon that promise with fire and blood.
Shock gave way to anguish. Anguish gave way to anger. Anger gave way to rage.
Soon, they were calling for Shabarra's head as a single entity. Even the few guards who had been loyal to Shabarra were joining in. They had lost comrades and family members in those blasts, and they wanted to avenge them. Even noblemen and Senators on Shabarra's side were appalled by this sudden horror, and they too wanted nothing more than to be rid of him.
In the space of a few terrifying, ruinous minutes, Shabarra had gone from a man feared and disliked to a man detested and reviled. He had only a few allies, mainly his own Sun Guard, left to him now.
Shabarra staggered back from the balcony, gaping stupidly at the yawning craters, the flickering flames and the black smoke, hearing the people below baying for his blood.
Their hatred scared him, and he felt his arms and legs shake with fear. Then he felt rage boiling within as he realised that they blamed him for this. They blamed him, their God Emperor.
This had to be the exiled bitch's doing. Fine. If they wanted to defy him for her, they could share in the fate she so badly deserved.
'The people are rioting, your majesty!' One of his guards was close to panic, hardly a credit to his training. 'They're trying to storm the palace. The City Watch is doing nothing to stop them.'
'Worse than that, they seem to be aiding them.' Callardis observed more calmly. 'We have to stop this.'
Shabarra ground his teeth together. 'Call in reinforcements. Call in every Legion you can. Tell them to show no mercy. Tell the soldiers to kill them all!'
Kashurra looked out over the devastation he had wrought, knowing what he had done and what it would cause.
A necessary evil, committed for a greater good. He could tell himself that, though it did nothing to ease his guilt.
Would she forgive him when she learned the truth? He doubted it, but perhaps she would at least understand.
Kashurra forced himself to turn away, his heart heavier than ever. The pain would grow worse before he end, he knew that. But there was no other way.
Kashurra stepped past Tathen's corpse with its twisted limbs and bent neck. He stepped out into the corridor, his plan unfolding before him. He still had work to do. This day had to end a certain way, and he had precautions to take.
By the time the sun rose tomorrow, Shabarra would no longer be God Emperor of the Helio Imperium. If all went to plan, Lina would be named regent and she would hold the throne until Mirana could return to reclaim it.
The Princess would have a nation left to rule, he would make certain of that no matter what it took.
'By all the gods...' the Wraith stood immobile, held in place by horror. 'How could he? Even he...'
'Kashurra said Shabarra was up to something.' Lina breathed. 'Now… now we know. He must have gone truly mad.'
'But this?' The Wraith gestured at the devastation. 'How could this be a solution to anything? All of those people… gone.'
Lina clenched her fists, flames dancing about them and intensifying as her rage grew. 'Then let's avenge them. If ever there was a time to strike, it's now. This cannot go unanswered.' The flames raged the length of her forearms now. The Wraith took a step back, startled, as flames billowed and flickered through Lina's fiery hair, her eyes burning as if aflame. 'I'm going out there. I'm done hiding. If Shabarra crosses my path, I will burn that fucking bastard alive!'
'If you don't roast him, I'll skin him alive.' The Wraith drew her blades and gritted her teeth. 'I'm with you, Slayer. Let's put an end to the usurper's reign!'
They ran down to the streets below, following the crowds as they stampeded towards the palace. The people of Rasolir had just become living weapons, a single entity united in one desire set upon fulfilling one goal: killing God Emperor Shabarra.
They had felt fear. They had felt anger. But they were long gone.
Now all they felt was hatred.
