"She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,"
"Without a care in the world."
"And I'm sitting here wearing,"
"The weight of the world on my shoulders."
"It's been a long day and there's still work to do."
"She's pulling at me saying, 'Dad, I need you;"
"There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited,"
"And I need to practice my dancin'."
"'Oh, please, daddy, please.'"

"So I will dance with Cinderella,"
"While she is here in my arms."
"'Cause I know something the prince never knew."
"Oh, I will dance with Cinderella,"
"I don't want to miss even one song."
"'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight,"
"And she'll be gone..."

Cinderella - Steve Curtis Chapman

Universe - D-03/Plane of Shadows and Ice
Class-One Restricted Planet: DB-000/TLM/T1-PX
Hall of the Nile, Blackthorn Estate
Kingdom of Northumbria, England
August 3rd, 1891 A.D.

Deep within the mysterious and imposing grounds of Blackthorn Estate, concealed by an intricate web of ancient enchantments that draped the formidable manor with a ruined tapestry, the Nilicorvi Council, a kreed of supernaturally dæmonic entities, did convene. And within the heart of this assembly of otherworldly figures, the Prime Enigma, Balam Hrosīer presided, his piercing emerald eyes serving as sentinels over the gathering. And as the other council members took their designated places within the austere Hall of the Nile, ensconced within the veil that hid Fȳrcyning's Passage from the mortal realm; a gateway that led to a realm steeped in dæmonic obscurity and a haunting sense of the unknown, their regal visages bore the scars of an intimate relationship with the occult conundrums of their infernal society.

The Hall itself was a grand chamber, bedecked with ancient tapestries that murmured the long-forgotten tales of the Nilicorvi lineage; the very walls marred with indecipherable runes and ancient hieroglyphs from a bygone era that still did whisper its secrets to those who could hear; secrets that resonated with the memories of power, war, and ultimate dominion over the Planes. And among the formidable chairs and thrones of the Council, Balam's seat stood as the most imposing, a physical embodiment of the authority and wisdom he held over the other four members, of whom themselves were no less extraordinary.

As the Council settled into their respective places however, a palpable hush descended upon the room, one that did bear the weight of history and the gravity of the decision they all knew to loom within their collective futures. And it was in that moment of hushed silence did the double doors of the Hall of the Nile creak open and allow a shrouded figure veiled in the very shadows themselves entrance.

Balam Hrosīer, the Prime Enigma of this dæmonic kreed, could only regard the approaching figure with a blend of clouded respect and tempered wariness as ripples of trepidation passed through the rest of the Nilicorvi the moment one of their very own came to a stop before them. Yet green eyes narrowed as Balam spoke, his voice nothing but liquid steel as it sliced through the oppressive silence.

"Master Dryatka," he greeted coolly. "You have been brought before the Nilicorvi accused of the deaths of three mortal children; magickless kin who do still fall under the very treaty your cousin did instil over the Planes." Teeth were bared, tongue running over lengthening incisors as he continued; voice all but dropping to a warning rumble, "As a former member of this very Council, however, you have been allowed the chance to speak your case before judgement is past."

"Though be aware, Ankhus," another voice cut over the Prime Enigma; one, though, Balam seemed to have no intentions of reprimanding as Lord Corvusclivus leaned forwards in his chair, raven locks falling like a wave to obscure pale features even as unnaturally piercing crimson eyes bore into the former Lord as he added, "If you are to be found guilty of the claims against you, you will be cast into the Niðersceaft and your name stripped from the annuals of time; as the ancient laws of retribution do decree."

"I did nothing more than what was necessary to protect that of my kin," was all Ankhus could say, a fiery determination burning within the depths of his blue eyes as they met Sanguini's crimson gaze unwavering. "Those boys attacked my daughter, left her for dead, and I could not allow such an act to go unpunished."

"Your defence is feeble," Balam decreed, raising a hand and stopping Sanguini from saying anything more. "The rules of the Scīran Sīdolnes do not extend to that of the Mortal Plane, as you rightfully know. Nor are the Nilicorvi blind to the workings of their world, and the deaths of those children stain your hands."

Ankhus' jaw clenched, and when he spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "I did what was necessary to protect my own. Those boys-"

"-are dead," the Prime Enigma interrupted, his voice resonating with a deep, ominous timbre. "And this Council demands the truth. Speak it now, or face the consequences of deceit."

Silence reigned supreme within the Hall of the Nile, blue eyes darting between each member of the dæmonic kreed, and the tapestries and hieroglyphs lining the walls seemed to quiver in response to the growing tension.

"I stand by my actions," the former Lord did finally declare, his voice unwavering as his gaze settled upon Balam's seated form; narrowing upon the Prime Enigma as he added, "I will not apologise for the right to defend those left under my care."

A murmur of disapproval rippled through the Council, and Balam sighed, the weight of judgement heavy upon his shoulder. "Very well," he begun. "If you choose to continue to lie, the Nilicorvi will have no choice but to resort to more extreme measures. Lord Þēodnes, if you would."

The already dimly lit chamber seemed to darken further as the Prime Enigma raised a hand, signalling to the raven-haired dæmon seated to his right - and of whom looked to be draped in the very shadows themselves. And obsidian eyes, as dark as the very Stygian Abyss yet as piercing as an arrow, did blink slowly as Lord Ealdwine Þēodnes rose from his chair; the sudden awareness of his presence commanding the attention of all.

"Master Ankhus Dryatka," the Dæmon-Lord did speak, his voice but an ethereal whisper that sent shivers down the spines of those present. "With the permission of the Prime Enigma of the Nilicorvi Council, Lord Balam Hrosīer, I have been granted the authority to delve into the recesses of your memories, and the truth, whether you wish it to be or not, shall be unveiled."

Eyebrows furrowed upon a darkened forehead, Ankhus' reluctance clear for all to see. Yet the former Lord of the Nilicorvi knew that to continuing to deny the truth, for even a moment longer, was not an option upon the path he had paved, and with a begrudgingly single nod of his head, gave his permission for the Dæmon-Lord to sift through the labyrinth that was his mind.

In but a blink of the eye, Ealdwine stood before Ankhus, his pale hands outstretched before him; fingertips barely touching upon the former Lord's far darker flesh - and the Hall suddenly pulsed with an otherworldly energy as their two minds connected.

A kaleidoscope of memories unfolded before Ealdwine's dark eyes, snippets of moments that revealed to the Dēofol the events that had ended with the deaths of three mortal children. Visions danced before him - a small town shrouded in shadows, the torment suffered by Ankhus' daughter at the hands of the mortal boys, and the moment when the former Lord himself did intervene to prevent his daughter from unleashing her dæmonic fury upon the rest of the town.

Yet, and as he delved deeper, Ealdwine saw upon the sights of a latent presence, an ancient force that did suddenly stir within Arianna's veins. The shifting of the girl's form, the manifestation of the dæmonic fiend - a creature of both beauty and terror; the realisation that it had not been Ankhus but his daughter who had enacted vengeance upon her tormentors struck Ealdwine like a thunderbolt and he withdrew from Ankhus' mind, withdrew his hands and stepped back and away from the dæmon with a flicker of astonishment shadowing his pale features.

The rest of the Nilicorvi seated at his six, each with a gaze that glimmered with an unnatural luminescence, awaited rather impatiently for the revelation of what their kin had seen. Yet Ealdwine found it rather hard to speak.

"It..."

The Dæmon-Lord trailed off, obsidian eyes boring into Ankhus' pleading blue; the stubborn Dēofol who'd just been standing before him no longer to be seen as a father, pleading not for his life but that of his daughter's, stood in his place instead, before those black eyes disappeared behind closing lids.

"It was not Master Dryatka who took the lives of those boys," Lord Þēodnes did finally reveal with a jerked shake of his head and retook his seat, somehow having returned to his place beside Balam between trailing off and closing his eyes. "It was his daughter, the ones the mortals know as Arianna, who, in a moment of sheer desperation and rage, managed to tap into her dæmonic heritage. She became Dēaðes'āgen, transformed into that of the Baneskriða; a force that was unfortunately unleashed by the injustice inflicted upon her."

Ankhus' eyes unwillingly widened at Ealdwine's revealing of his secrets, a mix of relief and sorrow etched upon his seemingly ageless features as the truth, exposed as it had been, now lay bare before the Nilicorvi. It were as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders - only to be quickly shoved into his hearts and caused them to sink to his feet.

"Retribution for pain endured?" another member hummed curiously; Dæmon-Lord and Master Healer, Lady Secunda Veilheart running a finger over her bottom lip as she studied Ankhus from her chair.

"That is correct, Lady Veilheart," Ealdwine did agree. "Master Dryatka did not lie when he spoke of doing what was necessary to protect those left under his care, intervening not to harm, but to save the rest of the mortals from the consequences of Rauðsótt's awakening and loss of control within the instincts of the Baneskriða; instincts that had become all-compassing with the danger she had been faced with. The only fault that lies with the Master is his decision to take the blame upon himself without first coming to us for aide... something I could only presume was done to shield his daughter from the prying eyes of both humans and dæmons alike."

The Dæmon-Lord's revelation hung in the air, and an unspoken understanding passed between the rest of the Nilicorvi. The burden that Ankhus had borne, the sacrifice he had made for his daughter who had done nothing more than tap into a power once sealed from her, now lay exposed before their immortal eyes.

"Master Dryatka," Balam begun, his voice cutting through the stillness that had once again engulfed the room. "Your actions, albeit misguided, have been found to have transpired under noble intent. It has been decided that you shall not be cast into the Niðersceaft for the transgressions of protecting our kind from exposure," he stated, clearly having heard what Lord Þēodnes had not stated. "However," he continued, lips drawing into a thin line as he stared down the former Lord, "The knowledge you have withheld from the Nilicorvi, of an Accused being reborn into that of the Mortal Plane without our express permission, is unprecedented. You have tried to hide this knowledge from us, from the very ones entrusted with the guardianship of the mortal realm. Why?"

Ankhus' resolve once more wavered under not only the Prime Enigma's scrutiny, but that of the entire Nilicorvi; the truths already revealed having taken the wind from his sails. Yet the Dēofol still hesitated before answering, knowing that in to speak would condemn his daughter to the very fate he had just escaped. "I feared the consequences, as any dæmon would, Lord Hrosīer," he admitted quietly, truthfully. "Of the condemnation my daughter would face upon the revelation of her... condition. The laws of magick within the Mortal Plane are absolute, and the existence of an Accursed reborn into their folds would have changed everything they know. I kept my tongue to protect them all, even from the truths that could lead to my daughter's own banishment from the Planes."

Obsidian eyes flared with a sudden intensity, Lord Þēodnes inhaling deeply through his nose before exclaiming in a deathly quiet voice, "You dare to defy the sanctity of truth within this hall. An Accursed is an abomination, and your lies have threatened the very balance of which the Nilicorvi do uphold."

Ankhus, feeling the weight of the entire Council's judgement, clenched his fist. "I did what any father would have done to protect their kin. I will bear the consequences of such actions, but my daughter's fate should not be tainted by the prejudice of what she had been turned into upon your former judgement."

The chamber erupted into a heated debate, the voices of the Nilicorvi interweaving with the former Lord's impassioned defence. The flickering torchlight cast shadows, deepening the division within the ancient Hall as the truth of Rauðsótt's powers having been awoken, powers that the Nilicorvi themselves had once sealed because they transcended that of the known laws of mortal magicks, unfolded in the Nile's hallowed hall; revealing a vulnerability that begun to threaten the very foundations of the realms the Council did safeguard.