Hey. How you doin'? You ready for stuff to start poppin'? Good, I thought so.

Brought to you by an insane amount of Imagine Dragons.

This chapter came out waaaay long than I'd intended, but I'm ai'ght with it. :3

Enjoy!

Storm Breaking

The feast could only be described a stupendously bountiful, in Yu's opinion. Several courses were served throughout, each more delicious than the last; appetizers of thick venison soup and leafy salads coated in a sweet vinaigrette, a main course of numerous roasted meats, fish cooked in an herb crust, and steamed vegetables basted with garlic, and finally a round of sweet tartlets and frosted lemon cakes. By the time it was over, Yu couldn't even dream of eating another bite. Jesters, dancers, and other performers entertained the audience throughout the meal, music and skits that were fun to watch even if some of the jokes flew over his head.

All in all, it was a fantastic dinner.

From time to time he'd watch the high bench, though there wasn't a whole lot to see. The kings and queens would converse with one another (some willingly, others not), as well as the Champions, who entertained them as they ate. Queen Elena would coax her husband to eat from her own fork, which he'd begrudgingly oblige too, much to the woman's delight. Queen Ida was deep in conversation with the royals of Rothvigot, just as Queen Edda and Tiruviel were with each other, while the two from Kolgore seemed to be speaking to anyone but the other. The prince and the Iron King mostly kept to themselves, while King Borris seemed especially interested in what the Champions had to say, leaning intently over his seat as he listened to their stories.

All around him too, he could hear the nearby voices of others as drink made their inhibition vanish, and he listened in on the noisy conversations as he ate his fill. He couldn't hear all of it, and much of his time would become monopolized by his friends, but some of the things he heard were quite interesting.

He was listening to one now, a bit of an idle conversation between two noble girls about more inane things, like jeweled necklaces and gowns. He was just about to tune it out when their subject suddenly changed.

"Now, just what are you thinking? I see you, mooning at the champions like a sparrow moons a shiny little trinket."

"O-oh, well . . . i-it was nothing, don't worry yourself over it."

"Now stop that. I know when you're lying, you do that little stutter! Come on, out with it!"

"Shh! I was just looking, what's so wrong with that?"

"Looking at who, pray tell? Lord Tirin? I'll admit, he is quite lovely to look at. Or maybe the pretty bard caught your eye?"

Yu had to fight down a laugh at that, hiding his smile by taking a drink.

"No, not them!"

"But someone?"

"Oh, why do you have to do this? Ugh, fine . . . I was looking at Lord Yalathas."

He perked up, taking a bite of succulent roast to pretend he wasn't impolitely listening in.

"Hm, well . . . I'm sure he's quite the gentleman, but-"

"He's heroic, as well as a paladin of Irun! What's more noble and good than that? And he's handsome too!" a sigh, "I know, you're going to tell me its just a little girl's fantasy, and yes, you're right. He's one of the Champions, far and above even me . . ."

"Well, it goes a little deeper than that, I'm afraid . . ."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard? People have been whispering that that one already has a fiancé."

That made him choke, the meat flying down the wrong pipe and getting stuck there.

"Dude, you okay?" Yosuke asked, watching him as he coughed violently into his hand, clearly not having heard the girls conversation.

Yu waved him back, nodding as he drank some water while on the inside he was quietly freaking out. He hadn't been expecting that. He hadn't been expecting that at all.

A fiancé? Who in the world could it possibly be, if it was true? Rhysana? Ylvaria? Someone he hadn't met? It hadn't looked like Yalathas had been going out with any one of his compatriots. But then, neither had Korval and Nyras until he'd caught them kissing.

He stared at his plate for a good three minutes, contemplating that little tidbit of information, perhaps a bit more obsessively than he should have. It might not be true. After all, she'd said it was just a rumor. But if it was . . .

It creeped Yu out a little, honestly. The idea of a carbon-copy of himself dating one of his friends (or anyone, really) was bizarre to imagine. Belated, he realized now how Naoto and Kanji must have felt.

He found his gaze wandering to the high bench, where their counterparts sat entertaining the kings and queens. Yalathas was seated in the center, and he was smiling as he exchanged words with Yvir, a glass in hand. Rhysana was on his other side, but he wasn't looking at her. Even when he did, his expression didn't really change, so far as he could see . . .

This went on for a little while until another voice cut in, "Hey, Partner, are you okay? You've been staring at them for a really long time now."

Yu tore his gaze away to look at Yosuke, who was frowning in puzzlement. Biting his lip and feeling embarrassed at having been caught, he replied, "Uh, well, I was just . . . I was trying to . . . you know what, there isn't really a good way to explain it."

Yosuke nodded slowly, "Well, that kinda pushes that into creep levels of territory."

Yu cringed, "Yeah . . . I just heard something, is all. Does that make it better?"

"Depends on what you heard, I think. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?" Yosuke asked, giving his full attention to his friend.

"I don't know?" Yu replied stiffly, shrugging and feeling quite lost on how to broach this.

At Yosuke's confused expression, Yu relented with a sigh, voice dropping to a whisper, "Well, its just . . . I overheard two girls talking, and . . . they said Yalathas may or may not have . . . a . . . fiancé?"

Yosuke's eyes widened, "Dude, for real?"

Yu nodded, face feeling warm for not-ill reasons. God, this was kinda embarrassing . . .

"Did they say who?" was Yosuke's immediate and predictable follow-up question.

Yu shook his head, "No . . . and I am not going to ask them. I don't even know if its credible or not, they just said it was 'being whispered about'."

"Hm . . ." at once, a light lit up Yosuke's eyes, and he patted Yu's shoulder urgently, "Well, there's a way we can find out! Ask Yvir!"

"What?"

"Dude, we're still best friends in this world, too! If anyone know if that rumor's true or not, it'd be my weird air-spirit doppelganger!" the other boy said with absolute certainty, "And he probably won't have a problem telling you! I mean, you're his best friend too, in a weird way."

Yu frowned, "Hm, maybe . . ."

Still . . . did he even really want to know? Was it any of his business? It wasn't like the realities of this world had a part to play in his own anyway, right?

Right.

Definitely right.

A sudden chill went down his spine, a cold that lingered and made him shiver. He reflexively ran his hands down his arms, perplexed by the sensation since as far he could see no windows had been opened. At the same time, movement above his head up on the balcony caught his attention, and without much thought, he turned to look.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A simple latecomer was walking inside, wearing a dress and matching gloves of velvet burgundy as well as a heavy black cloak that was laid over her shoulders, white hair pulled up into a taut bun. Like many she wore a mask, one that covered her face in it's entirety, porcelain-made with painted lips and shadowed eyes.

What was strange was that the Master of Ceremonies was not calling her name. He was standing there, watching her enter, pudgy hands wrapped firm over the lacquered board where the guest list supposedly was. But as he watched, Yu noticed something odd. His eyes . . . didn't seem to be following her. Like he was frozen still, a statue made of flesh and bone instead of marble and rock.

Slowly, one by one, all eyes became drawn to the strangeness above them, until the whole hall gradually fell silent. It was only then that the woman began her descent, hand draped over the banister with all the elegance of a highborn lady, painted porcelain face betraying no emotion at all.

That was when he saw her nails, long and curving and sharp.

Several of the guards had seen as well, for suddenly they were striding forward, hands clasped around the hilts of their swords. One held up a hand, gesturing for her to halt.

The strange woman looked at them, and they all movement ceased. There was no fanfare of magic, no spoken word or snapping fingers . . . but each and every guard coming towards her stopped as if someone had hit their personal pause button, and they did not move again.

Cries of alarm went up all around him, and Yu found himself rising to his own feet, hand going for a sword that was not there as more guardsmen raced forward.

That was when the woman spoke, her voice rising up over the tumult of noise like a thunderstorm even though her tone was nothing but amicable and sweet, "Now, now, why must humans always make such fuss over small things? Peace, my lords and ladies. No blood need be shed in this ballroom."

Queen Edda had risen from her seat, a look of hard disdain on her face, lips curled in anger, "If any blood is to be shed, it will be yours, creature! How did you even get past my guardsmen! My knights!"

The woman only curtsied, even as several more guards circled her, swords drawn and pointed her way, "Queen Edda. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Indeed, the same goes for all you royal majesties. Have no fear for your guardsmen, they are merely indisposed at the moment."

The scowling King Adalbert spat, pointing his axe her way with a threatening jab, "Keep your platitudes to yourself, beast! Your kind never mean's it!"

His wife Elena laid a calming hand on his arm, face a composed neutral even though her eyes flickered with fear, and he responded by gently shrugging her back so he stood in front of her, black eyes never once straying from the woman at the heart of the hall.

Prince Roland had risen as well, sword drawn and looking ready to leap down at a moment's notice, "You know you could not enter this palace and expect to walk free. Tell me, demon, is it your wish to die an honorable death on this hallowed day?"

Beside him, King Borris let loose a sudden bark of laughter, still seated and drinking a flagon of spirits, "A demon with honor, now there's a joke if I've ever heard one! Still, my good man, you're forgetting something; kill a demon, and it just goes right back to the maggot pit it crawled out of!"

"There are ways to destroy a demon permanently," Queen Edda said, eyes burning with azure flames.

"Indeed," King Stephen had risen now, scowling down his nose at the woman.

The woman held up her hands, "Peace, your majesties. Perhaps my words may fall on doubting ears, but I have not come to quarrel. Instead, I have simply come to talk. And, perhaps, even to warn."

Whispers rose up around the hall, filled with uncertainty and fear as the kings and queens of the high bench continued to look down upon her with suspicion.

Queen Ida stood up, bones creaking along with her voice, "What does a demon gain of warning humans of anything? And yet, what have you to gain now by lying? Hm, I sense only a half-truth to your claim, child of brimstone."

"Then we should slay it and be done with this nonsense!" Queen Amalia spoke out, face taut with fear.

King Friedrich waved her down, ignoring her glare as he turned to the woman, pendulum jangling around his neck, "What words have you come to speak? And what reason have we to believe them?"

"None at all," the woman replied, head bowed low and subservient, "But perhaps you could hear what I have to say before you put me to the iron? Consider them my last words."

The kings and queens traded wary and disbelieving glances, save King Borris, who scoffed, "Bold thing you are indeed, demon."

It was Tiruviel who reached the decision first, all eyes flicking to the ancient protector of the lake, "Hear me, your majesties. This demon claims to come here to warn us. If true, then would it not be prudent of us to hear her out? I believe afterward, we can then access the validity of her claim while she remains in custody. Does this please you?"

Queen Edda wrinkled her nose, frowning deep, but relented with an averse nod, "Very well. Speak, demon. We will hear what you have to say. Once you are finished, you will be escorted to the castle dungeons, where you will remain indefinitely."

The woman rose, and though Yu could not see what lay behind her mask, he strongly felt she was smiling.

"Thank you, your eminence. Your reputation for clemency precedes you," she said, nodding to the dragon. There was a pause, and the lady let loose a sudden chuckle, "Oh, dear me, I seem to have forgotten something your majesties. Something that pertains to our dear Champions."

Their counterparts, who had left the high bench to stand level with the woman, stared at her, suspicion clear on their faces. Cahira, Yvir, Korval, and Nyras were openly glowering, tension lined throughout their whole body as they waited for the slightest sign of violence. Ylvaria and Rhysana were more composed, but their lips were curled down in revulsion, hands rigid at their sides. Yalathas stood at the head, eyes narrowed and frowning. Of Tirin there was no sign, but Yu had no doubt he was somewhere, waiting in the shadows.

She curtsied to them as well, "Allow me to extend my deepest apologies. Your tale is known to demon-kind, and I have nothing but respect for ones so bold, regardless of my blood. Please, I wish to amend my folly and make it up to you."

There was silence for a time.

Then Yalathas was stepping forward, silver eyes as sharp as a blade's edge, "You said you had words to share. Forgive me for any crassness, but we do not much care for the acclamations of a demon."

"Of course," she nodded, "However, I'm afraid it may be out of my hands. For you see, I've already invited them."

Wariness crept into Yalathas' eyes, "Invited who?"

At that, the woman looked at him. The whole room had gone quiet, the anticipation cloying as she answered, her tone as mockingly sweet as a sugar-coated cyanide pill, "Why, old friends, of course."

She threw her arm out to the grandiose stairwell right as the air before it was sundered in two, splitting apart like a curtain as the portal rent the veil between spaces like twain. The woman's voice climbed higher over the frightened gasps of the people, and underneath her mask, she was most assuredly grinning, "Please, allow me to reacquaint you with them!"

From beyond, shadows shifted and wavered like mirages before they slid out into the open.

It was that moment Yu felt it; the sheer presence of evil like he hadn't felt since that night in Sedgeridge. Except somehow it was worse, choking and rotten and slamming into him like a wall of water, leeching his breath away. A cold sweat beaded his brow, and it was all he could do to keep his knees from knocking together as the figures emerged and revealed the shadows he was afraid to see.

They all moved through the vaporous ripples of the portal with ease, seven in all, unperturbed by the numbing silence their appearance brought.

The first was a drow woman of unabashed beauty, her skin cut from onyx, her eyes shorn from rubies, and her hair spun from silver-white starlight. Her robe of spider silk was crossed with veins of ebony, the open slit running down her chest gilded with the spider symbol of her goddess. A heavy circlet curved around her head, striated stilts resembling spider legs cradling the sides of her face and neck, the top bearing a bright, blood red ruby at its heart. But that was where the beauty ended, and the frightening began, for in place of ordinary legs was the heavy, bulbous abdomen of a spider. Each thin leg rippled together with every paced step, disturbingly graceful for such an unseemly creature. Her carapace was shiny black, and though it was for just an instant, Yu thought he saw a glimmer of red flash along the underside of her abdomen. Her face was a sneer of contempt, looking down on them all as if they were mere ants in her eyes.

Following her was a drow man, as lithe as a shadow, face as stolid and set as stone. His armor was pitch, shifting like the shadows caught within a candle's flickering light, with two swords strapped securely to his sides. A perpetual fog traced after his footsteps, the ghostly mark of his passing that faded away just as surely as a summer mist.

Next came a woman as beautiful as she was disturbing. There was no right way to describe it, but the smile she wore upon her fair, heart-shaped face seemed plastic in nature, stretching far too widely along her pretty lips. A dead rose was woven into the strands of her luminous hair, diaphanous grey dress whispering over the ground like fallen leaves. She floated over the floor, and wherever she went, a dark, moldy grime seemed to follow, covering the once polished tiles in a thin layer of decay.

The next to come was a massive being, and he recognized the green skin and jutting tusks of one of orc blood. But this one looked far less friendly than Korval, rugged and scarred with tiny bones tied into the thick tresses of his wiry black beard. His armor was a heavy set of patched-together pieces stolen from numerous victories, a bloody red fist painted over the battle-scarred mail, and a massive battleaxe was strapped to his back. Only one eye was visible, the other hidden beneath a grizzled eye-patch.

The woman who walked beside him was far smaller, body built for speed and agility even though her bare arms were corded with muscles. Her stark white hair was shaved on one side, piercings of bloodstone decorating her nose and ears, bright compared to the stark white of her skin. Her eyes were scarlet, peering around her with a gleam that almost looked like sadness. But the rigid composure of her face made it hard to tell.

Behind her came a man that was just as pale of complexion yet by far the more alive one in personality. He was smiling openly, looking quite enthused by this whole predicament as he glanced from one shocked face to the other. His attire was colorful, bright sweeps red and yellows and oranges that flowed together with an artisan's touch, looking for all the world a jester even though there was nothing to laugh about now. A feathered cap was perched upon his head, the ebony feather jutting from the coif bouncing along merrily as the man walked. There was a rapier at his side, and surprisingly enough, a silver flute upon his back.

And lastly, and by far the most terrifying to emerge, was the textbook definition of a demon. Huge he was, so huge he took up the majority of the space on the open floor, great horns swooping up over his head, fire hissing beneath his taloned feet. His body was coated in crimson scales, and a long tail ending in a lethal barb swished over the ground, looking as if it could skewer a man easily. Its eyes burned like brimstone, and smoke curled from the juncture of his bestial jaws.

At once, horrified screams filled the hall, nobles scrambling from their seats and clambering for the terrace doors only to have them slammed shut in their face by an unnatural wind.

The woman laughed behind her painted mask, "Now, now, that is very rude of you. Surely you can be better company than that!"

The fighting kings and queens had all drawn their weapons, Queen Edda shouting, "We did not give you leave to invite your horde! Guards, to me!"

All the armed soldiers of Arvorod readied their blades as their Queen made to join them, when Yalathas' shout cut through the air, "STOP!"

And she did stop, more out of surprise than a will to obey as the silver-eyed man waved her back, "Leave this to us! This is our fight!"

As he spoke, he and the rest of his companions all touched an ornament they wore, some a mask, others a ring, and uttered something immutable he could not hear. Then there was a blinding flash, and suddenly the rich attire the Champions had worn for the evening was gone, replaced by their armor and their weapons, ones they quickly drew in the face of these new and unexpected arrivals. Yalathas pointed his crystal blade at them, color skittering under its surface like fish beneath a lake, and all the world seemed to hold its breath.

"Oh, but I told you, I did not come here to fight!" the woman said, unperturbed by the appearance of their weapons, "I came here to speak. And my compatriots here are simply to establish a point."

The woman turned to them, holding her hand to her allies, "Now, it may be a little redundant, but allow me to-

"Tabris?!"

The woman fell silent as Cahira suddenly strode forward, all eyes drawn to the monk as she continued to yell, "Tabris, is that you? What the hell are you doing here?"

At first, no one moved. Then, the woman with the bloodstone ornaments looked up, her impassive expression cracking into a frown as she returned the other woman's stare, "Cahira. It has been some time, hasn't it?"

They know each other, Yu thought, the surprise distant in light of all that was happening.

"Spare me that!" Cahira shouted, cutting an angry hand through the air, "Why are you here? Why are you with them?!"

"My reasons are my own," the woman, Tabris, replied. For a brief moment, her face turned somber, "I do not ask you to understand. Truthfully, I had hoped our paths would not cross here. But I suppose that was a foolish wish."

"That does not answer my question," Cahira replied, eyes narrowed and hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looked troubled, angry, but beneath it, there was an undercurrent of shock and worry, the sort of which you did not reserve for an enemy.

"I know," was all Tabris had left to say, "Now still your thoughts and steel your soul, Simorn. This is no place to be distracted."

Cahira frowned, but seemed to realize their conversation was over and Tabris had nothing more to say. However reluctant she appeared, she stepped back over to her allies and remained there, Ylvaria putting a comforting hand on hers.

The frightening orc man grunted, voice a rugged timber that was hard to understand through his long, cracked tusks, "Humph. An enemy that needs your advice is no enemy at all."

There was a harsh scoff, and Yu looked to see Korval sneering in utter contempt, "But those are the only enemies you'd fight, aren't they?"

The orc half-turned, eye blazing with scorn and lips curling into a savage sneer, growling dangerously while he pointed at the other as if he were nothing but a disobedient dog, "Silence. A filthy half-blood with no clan and no name has no right to speak to me, Grumack of the Ironfist. Remember that, maggot, before I cleave your bastard head in two!"

"Try it, Nar Thos!" Korval spat back, anger boiling over through every pore of his body, hammer up and ready.

Grumack roared with all the savagery of a war beast, swinging his battle-axe into his hands and legs bunching, ready to charge and heedless of the danger. Korval looked more than ready to meet him, that same look of furious anger mirrored eerily on his face.

It was only then the first woman held up her hand, a burst of magic flying from her open fingers and rolling over the congregation in a wave that chilled to the bone, "Now, enough of that. Remember, we came to talk, Grumack. Your honor can come later."

The orc growled at her, and for a moment, Yu was sure he was about to take her head off with one swing of his axe. But then, he relented, glaring balefully at Korval, who returned with just as much vitriol even as Nyras placed a supporting hand against his arm.

"Hmph, are all mortal gatherings so boring?" Yu had to shiver under the power of the demonic entity's voice, the windows trembling as the beast looked down upon the congregation, "Surely, a little bloodshed would make this night far more interesting."

His burning gaze scanned the Champions, before it became fixed on one person in particular. Nyras glared in return, and even though the only physical expression she showed was a frown, Yu was taken aback by the sheer, scorching fury that was blazing like a wildfire in her eyes.

The demon's returning grin was frightening to behold, "Ah, if it isn't the little Theron girl, all grown up and wearing her leathers. Tell me . . ." he stooped lower, tail flicking against the tiled stone and leaving sharp divots in it's wake, his questioning tone inlaid with cruel, vindictive derision, "How's mommy and daddy?"

There was movement, a flash of gold, and suddenly the demon was reeling back, roaring and clutching at his eye with a massive claw, a bolt protruding between his twisted fingers. Snarling, he ripped it out and glared down with his remaining eye, tongues of fire licking over his fanged snout. Nyras stared back, a smirk of dark satisfaction curling the corners of her lips.

"Little rat!" the demon shouted, barbed tail slamming into the floor, the tile cracking like eggshells beneath it as the nobles screamed, "Lord Astaroth stands before you, wretch! I could tear your soul to ribbons if I so choose!"

The ranger did not dignify his heated words with a reply, merely reloading another bolt into her crossbow. Korval placed a hand on her shoulder, shoulders braced back as he gave a withering look to the creature.

The demon looked enraged at her crass dismissal of his existence, but before he could make good on his terrifying threat, a laugh cut through the tense air, "Hard to imagine how you find this boring. I haven't had nearly so much fun at a party in years!"

The colorfully dressed man was the one who had spoken, throwing his arms out with a merry grin, "Delightful company, dramatic setting, and the sort of bitter tension I haven't seen since the archdevils own reunion party! Truly, this will be a day marked down in the annals of history!" without a thought, he plucked a wilting red carnation from its vase, ignoring the nobles cowering on the opposite side of the table as he rolled it delicately between his fingers, "Hm, I do so enjoy being invited to such things. There truly is no greater joy to be had. Don't you agree, my dear?"

He planted a kiss the flower's petals, a devilish smirk playing across his face as he turned and lightly tossed it to Rhysana. It landed at her feet, where it remained as the bard fixed a poisonous scowl on the man. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her foot and crushed the flower beneath her heel with such disdain it was chilling to behold. It was the first time Yu had ever seen her so genuinely angry, but the man only smiled as if she had just told him a lighthearted joke, a grin that was as sharp the as the fang glinting just below his lip.

"All well and good for one of your kind, Gethen, but some of us have far more important matters to attend to," the spider drow spoke up, the word 'kind' glossed with the tenor of distaste only the arrogant could muster, looking down her nose upon everyone in the room, "Truly, this farce is a waste of my time."

"A waste of ours as well, linate-miq."

The drow woman looked coolly at Ylvaria, who returned it with an icy stare. The drow raised her chin proudly, tone laced with scorn as she placed her hands behind her back, "Ah, Ilumvanvi. I wondered when you might deign to open that pretty mouth of yours. A change of pace, I imagine, from the back rooms of a brothel."

Ylvaria was not cowed, a vision of haughtiness that belied the friendly, laughing woman they had come to know, "You'd know that well, wouldn't you, Vrammyr? Tell me, just how is your son?"

The elf's gaze landed on the drow man beside her, and even though he gave no reaction to her insult, the drow woman did, icy countenance cracking for a split second as she bristled, "Gaer zhah miild taga uss i'dol ul venor na z'han-tarth, elg'cress."

The man, Gethen, snorted.

"Now please, Lady Phaedra," The first woman said, politely curtsying, "This is a party, and we are honored guests. Civility should be honored. Our business will be concluded shortly, I promise you."

The drow woman sneered and sharply turned her head, falling into a displeasured silence but a silence all the same.

"A party, a party, a party for the crowns! How sterling the silver, how glittering the gold!" the beautiful woman with rot tracing her path suddenly began to spin around and around, as if she could no longer contain herself as she danced to a tune only she could hear, smile still stretched far too wide. She stopped and held her arms out to the kings and queens as if in supplication, but the mad light in her eyes betrayed the darkness within as she gave a low, mocking bow, "A perfect pretty play for the avarice of old."

She stood upright just as quick, ramrod straight, turning only her head to regard the Champions with a weird, twitchy smile. It grew even bigger when her eyes alighted on Yvir.

"Ah-ha! Princeling of the green, the ashwood, the air, my little sun and moons and stars, I haven't seen you in so many years!" she floated to him, ignoring the way he backed up like she were something foul, "My, how you've grown! Not so little, not so prince, but all of you the sky!" She pouted, a childish whine rising in her throat, "You never come to visit me anymore."

"I wonder why," the sorcerer replied dryly, arms crossed and glaring.

She waved him off, "The past is the past is the past! Oh, I regret my actions, truly, I just wanted to see my sister again! And what a more perfect little carrier pigeon than her own son?"

Yvir scowled at her, tersely nodding his head to the unwelcome visitors, "And is this supposed to be an apology, Laila?"

"Oh no no no no, this is no apology, silly boy!" the woman, Laila, said, waving her hands in dismissal. She was still smiling that plastic smile, too wide and too broken to be real, when Yu noticed something . . . wrong. The skin around her mouth was . . . darkening, a fetid blackness that rippled away from her twitching lips, pouring over her pretty skin like oil over snow. And as he watched, he saw with horror that the flesh was crumpling inward, dissolving, scarring, wilting-

Rotting . . .

"This is my part to an agreement in promise for a head, princeling," Laila replied, her voice suddenly dropping in pitch and becoming much more sinister, much more threatening. The odiferous rot continued to creep up her face, the hollow of her nasal bones slowly withering into view as she leaned closer even as Yvir moved away. She would have followed him, had Yalathas not pressed the edge of his blade to her throat, a warning look in his silver eyes, lips turned down in quiet disgust.

Laila looked down at it as if she were surprised it was there, stopping. But then she looked up, the remaining skin around her mouth tearing as her teeth stretched into another too-wide grin, tone almost reassuring as she glanced at the sorcerer, "But not your head, my stars, of course not. I still have plans for you.~"

Almost . . . but not quite.

She laughed and spun happily back to the 'guests' who were her allies, as if chunks of her skin weren't rotting away to pieces and sloughing from her bones, hair withering to dust as maggots crawled in the remains, "Tell sissy I said hello for me!"

"What the fuck . . . ?" he heard Yosuke whisper, sounding sickened. Yu empathized, feeling his own stomach rebel the longer he watched this dark spectacle.

"Alright, alright, now that everyone has become so preciously reacquainted . . ." The first woman spoke up, voice echoing again over the hall, "I believe its time I share with you what I have come to say."

She threw her arms out, encapsulating all her allies in the gesture, most assuredly smiling beneath her mask, "Ladies and gentlemen, my high kings and queens, what you see before you is host of beings who's power rival that of even your Champions! You see them and you see the monsters of all your most frightening legends. You see them, and you see the shadows who walked in your darkest nightmares. You see them, and see the ones who starred in the fireside stories that kept you awake at night. You see them, all here before you, as real as your own flesh! And I am here to tell you . . . that they are not what you should be afraid of."

Outside, the thunder rumbled.

"Listen well, all of you. Something is coming. Something older than the seven kingdoms, older than Endrivan, older than even the world, a calamity none can predict or control. It has existed since time immemorial, as eternal as the stars, as unstoppable as a typhoon, a force of nature as immutable as the void. And it is coming." she paced slowly along the hall, watching the nobles shrink from her, a lioness amongst a herd of sheep, "You've seen the signs. You've felt the symptoms. The time is nigh, and there is no stopping the event about to take place."

She rounded to the other side of the hall, and no one dared breath a word as the pattering of the rain intensified and the woman's volume rose with it, "The walls will break. The sky will sunder. The veil will tear. And now, on this night, you will bear witness to the first quakes of this catastrophe. Quakes that will grow and ripple outward to encompass all the world until there is no place left to run. Your kingdoms will crumble. Your lands will burn. And when all that is left is the ash of a country ground to dust beneath this destruction's heel, may all you know . . ."

Then she was looking at him, eyes a scintillating canary yellow that scorched through his skin down to his very core, and Yu felt fear.

"The Night of No Stars has begun."

Thunder crashed overhead, so loud and so close that the castle shook like a great beast was thrashing within it, lightning flashing and casting the room in coruscating shades of white and black. More screams rang out through the hall, but he could scarcely hear them.

The woman was still looking at them, those frightening yellow irises rooting him to his spot, and he knew that she knew. Who he was, who they were, everything from their story to their secrets, she knew. There was terrible power in those eyes, a terrible madness too, one that threatened to suck him in like the undertow of the ocean and drown him if he stared too long. And yet he couldn't break away, too afraid to move, too afraid to even scream. He was clutching something tight in his hand, the only other thing grounding him in this world that wasn't those awful eyes, shaking just as hard as he was.

He thought she would never look away, when there was a sudden flurry of movement and the familiar clang of blades ricocheted down the hall.

The woman turned, breaking eye contact, and Yu could breathe again. Trembling, warmth returning to his stiff limbs, he finally looked to see what had happened.

Tirin had reappeared right at the heart of the monstrous group, currently locked blade to blade with the drow man and attacking with a ferocity that rivaled even Korval's rage. Xirskam was beside him, claws raking through the air, nipping at the drow's stone-colored cloak as the other sidestepped each and every swipe, all while continuously exchanging blows with the gloaming. The rogue did not seem to care that he was surrounded by enemies, far from aid. Indeed, Yu wondered if Tirin even realized they were there, so focused was his animosity.

"Tirin!" someone cried, and in a blink, both groups were suddenly embroiled in battle, all hell breaking loose on the ballroom floor.

Korval charged in with a roar, fierceness matched only by Grumack's as the burly orc rushed to meet him, crashing into each other with the force of two raging bulls. Hammer and axe bit both floor and armor as the two attacked each other savagely, a mach that was terrifying to watch.

Cahira raced forward, when Tabris intercepted her, not attacking, but making it clear that she would not let her pass. The monk paused, sliding to halt, wavering with a hesitation far removed from her usual decisive nature. Then she ground her teeth together, balled her fists, and struck. Both became nothing but a blur of white and green, movement so quick it was impossible to follow.

Gethen had been reaching for his flute, when he was forced to backpedal away from the prismatic slash of Rhysana's rapier. The bard stared him down, a silent dare for him to try as she leveled the tip of her blade with the man's throat. Gethen did not appear worried, merely grinning as pulled loose his own weapon and matched her stance with disturbing synchronicity, brushing the edge of the obsidian black blade along Rhysana's. And then the two were fighting, sparks flying with every ferocious stab.

The demon, Astaroth, held out a hand and drew it down as if he were pulling something out of a sheath, and Yu watched a jagged sword as tall as cottage warped into existence, tongues of flame traveling up the emerging blade and setting the runes engraved along its fuller to glow with a rusty orange light. At the same time, Nyras was already drawing back her crossbow and firing, nailing the monster in the chin.

Magic suffused the air in the same instant, Yvir and Ylvaria summoning it to their side, winds as strong as a gale whipping through the hall and fire dancing along the tiles like entwined lovers. At the same time, the drow woman and Laila responded, entropic magic spooling in Phaedra's hand like amethystine spider silk while a swarm of pestilence gathered around the undead, a malignant halo of decay.

Yalathas went straight for the woman, blade glowing with holy light as he aimed it straight for her chest.

The woman turned to him, held out her hand . . . and snapped her fingers.

And all movement ceased.

Everyone, both Champion and their foes, stood as still as statues, frozen mid-fight like mannequins posed in a museum display case. The woman looked between each, as if ignorant to her own power, tsking like a mother before a horde of unruly children, "Now, this simply will not do. Tonight was one for talk, not battle. Such headstrong spirits, it could prove most obnoxious in the future."

She turned her head to the pale-faced kings and queens, curtsying one last time, "Apologies. My companions can be a little hot-blooded. Although, to be fair, it was one of your own who instigated this. Regardless, I have come to say what I needed to say. Take my words however you wish. But know that your night is far from over."

She stood upright and moved to stand before a frozen Yalathas, looking down into his silver eyes, "As for you . . . I imagine we shall be meeting again in the future, some time sweet and soon. Then, we may finish what was begun tonight. Until then . . . best wishes."

She clapped her hands, and suddenly she and the rest of her allies vanished without a trace, just as the magic holding their counterparts dispersed and they were stumbling free.

No sooner had they vanished did the nobles fly from their seats to clamber for the doors, screaming and wailing as more thunder rolled overhead. Yu and the rest stood there, winded and nearly getting swept up in the crowd of fleeing nobility, when a hand appeared on his shoulder, steadying him. Yu turned to see Yalathas, who gave him swift and curt instructions, "Go through the terrace. Behind the second pillars is the door to the servants quarters. Get back to your rooms and stay there."

He didn't even have time to question him, because he vanished into the thickening crowd right after, no doubt searching for his friends.

Yu took a few moments to just breath, hand still clutching the thing from before as he focused on calming his frightened nerves. But even that respite was sort-lived, as Divistan and his companions were suddenly upon them, urging them to move. He lurched unsteadily on his feet for a moment, nearly tipping over, when the thing in his hand quite alarmingly tightened in response and kept him upright.

When he looked to see what it was, he saw that it was a hand. More specifically, he saw that it was Yosuke's hand.

Their eyes met for a split second, surprise mirrored perfectly in the other's gaze. But it was only brief, as Divistan pushed them forward again, silent but insistent.

Yu allowed his hand to slip away as he was herded out of the ballroom, and felt colder for it.

(*)

The journey to their rooms felt far longer than the mere handful of minutes it truly was, a blur of running through doors and a slew of frightened faces that gave them no comfort. Outside, they could still hear the screams of the civilians, the shouts of the soldiers, all of it drowned out by the furiously falling rain.

When at last they reached the marbled columns and festooned balconies, Yu welcomed the cold, rainy air with relish, sucking in deep breaths until the dizzying heat of the ballroom faded away.

Their guards must have sensed their need, for they no longer pushed so strongly for them to move, allowing them a chance to breath even as the rain lashed against the curtains that had been drawn over the open breadths between the columns.

The silence remained until Chie finally broke it, ripping her mask off and running hand through her tousled hair, voice quiet and tremulous, "My god . . . what the hell was that back there?"

"I don't know . . ." Yosuke responded, leeched of any will to even stand.

"It was bad, whatever it was," Rise murmured, crouched against the wall and shaking, "Those . . . things . . . I don't think I've ever felt that scared since we fought Izanami . . ."

"Their power was incredible," Naoto added, voice muted, arms curled tight around her midriff, "And that woman . . ."

"H-her face was falling off . . ." Teddie whispered, distraught voice muffled in his arms, "Her f-face . . ."

A collective shudder ran through the group, and it went unspoken that they all had been shaken to their very core.

Yu knew he should say something. He knew he had to speak, to bring their spirits back up . . . but he didn't know how to do that when he felt just as scared and unsure as they did. He felt like a child again, lost and alone, without direction, without guidance. He didn't know how to fix this.

Instead, they lapsed into silence again, thoughts drifting as the thunder rolled on.

In the quiet, he could think. Whatever had happened . . . the Champions had known the strangers that had appeared. And not in a way one knew an acquaintance. No, those quarrels had looked . . . far more deep. Far more personal. Far more ugly. Whatever their connections, it was clear they were not pleasant ones.

He wanted to be optimistic . . . but he knew that if this journey was to continue, this would not be the last they would see of them. And he shivered at the thought.

He let his mind wander after, soaking in the chill of the air as it breezed through the gaps in the curtains, filling his head with only the sound of the rain to distance himself from the horrors he'd witnessed on that ballroom floor.

Until . . . Yu noticed a light.

It wasn't lightning. It was too stable for that, too prolonged. It couldn't be moonlight, for the storm was raging on overhead, blotting out the sky and the stars. But it was there, burning just along the edge of the rumpled curtain beside him. Perhaps curious, perhaps a little crazy, Yu pushed himself from the column he'd been leaning against and crept to it. Catching the heavy material with the back of his hand, he pushed the drape aside to peer beyond.

It was hard to see through the rain, the droplets falling so hard and fast it was like a wobbling gray sheet had been placed over the windowed ledge. It lashed at his face, cold as ice-shorn needles against his skin. But as his eyes adjusted, he could make out shapes in the murk. He could see the turrets of the castle gatehouse, as well as the rooftops of the tallest buildings in the city. Beyond that, he could just make out the heaving, churning waves of the lake below him.

As well as the bright blue light that glowed at the lake's edge, pulsing like it were alive, an ethereal lighthouse submerged beneath the water. And all along the glow, the water around it was swirling, drawn to the light like a moth to the flames, growing larger and larger with every passing moment.

The others had slowly gathered around the edge, wincing at the rain but too curious to be pushed back.

"What is that?" Yosuke whispered.

"I don't know," he replied, unable to turn away from the strange glow.

The water continued to churn and spin, the ghostly radiance spreading out until it spanned the entire edge of the city's shore all the way to the crooked spires of rock just below them, a great glowing fin along the back of some great stony beast. Whirlpools dotted the great canvas of blue, spinning frantically, erratically, the waves crashing against the shore as the thunder roared above their heads, tumultuous and violent compared to the gentle rainfall of that morning.

Another thunderclap. Then another. Then another. And another still.

Yu found his eyes travelling to the sky now, brow pinching together at the far too regular beat of the clouds. Another streak of lightning lit the sky, the world below strobing white to black to white again until it was over, the rumbling peel of thunder following close on its heels. But the thunder from before remained even as the sky roared, a constant wub-wub-wub that puzzled his senses. It was only as he listened closer, trying to discern what it was, that he realized not only did it have a rhythm . . . it was getting closer.

No sooner had that realization crossed his mind did the clouds above his head suddenly explode as something huge and black burst through the stormy veil. There was another clap of not-thunder, and the remaining clouds tossed and turned just the same as the lake with every bellowing clap of . . .

. . . wings.

It was then that Yu came to a horrifying understanding, one that leeched him of his warmth just as surely as the rain . . .

He knew exactly what this was.

"Holy shit, is that a fucking-?!"

Yosuke's shout was lost in the roar that followed the creature's emergence, so piercingly loud it shook the stone, shook the earth, shook their very souls. Green light hissed from the back of the beast's throat, illuminating giant fangs taller than he was, vaporous mist trailing over it's muzzle as the water evaporated in the heat of its cavernous maw. Lightning flashed, and though it was only for an instant, Yu could see a dragon more massive than he could dream of, great wings spread out over it's head like a tenebrous veil twice as wide as the ballroom had been, horns curling around it's massive head towards it's jaws, eyes and nose so deeply sunken in and lined with shadow it looked as if a monstrous skull had been affixed to it's face, a vision of death.

He stared, transfixed with horror, that it wasn't until Rise was pulling on his arm and shrieking that he responded, looking to where her trembling finger was pointing.

There, far below them, he saw more movement, more than he could have thought possible. Shadows that skittered under the surface of the water, shadows that did not disperse, did not merge back into the darkness. Shadows that did not sink . . .

But instead rose.

To his horror, all along the shore the whirlpools began to spit out amalgamations he could only describe as entities of the water itself, the lake seeming to come alive as numerous creatures poured forth from the heaving waves. Some were small, others were far larger, and each and every single one of them was headed for the city, a city that was packed with people woefully unprepared for the assault that was coming to their doors. And all he could do, all any of them could do, was watch.

And when all that is left is the ash of a country ground to dust beneath this destruction's heel, may all you know . . .

And just as the lake was rising, so too did the dragon descend, another roar splitting the night in time to the thunder of it's wings and the thunder of the clouds.

The Night of No Stars has begun.

I'm waking UP, I FEEL IT IN MY BONES, ENOUGH TO MAKE MY SYSTEM BLOW!

Chm, sorry. Hey look, a dragon. :0