Ephraim's ritual had been simple. In his own culture, such a blessing would have been a matter performed by the presiding arch-curate, an elder chosen for having the most powerful connection to the spirits of the wild. However, the Far North was too far after all, and Ephraim hadn't even tried to contact his tribe to convince the arch-curate to travel hundreds of miles to Dara. As such, the Pale Avenger had been content to have Anu perform the ritual that made him a Guardian. As expected, it involved a lot of chanting and fragrant incense. Ephraim didn't understand a word of it. 

The vision that had followed brought back unbidden memories, images of Melazus that Ephraim figured he had forgotten years ago. The darkness, the strange imagery on the walls and the pillars... nothing he wanted to remember at all. In the shadows, he could see [i]things[/i] lurking and circling him; he could hear their guttural panting and growling. A maniacal laugh echoed through the catacombs, and the hairs on Ephraim's neck stood on end. Cyrabassis's laugh. Staring into the shadows, Ephraim noticed something bright was casting his own shadow in front of him. Whirling around, Ephraim saw one of the murals change, and he heard a word in a language he had not spoken for close to 30 years; something that translated to [i]"Opened"[/i] or [i]"Unlocked"[/i]. With a flash of light, he suddenly came to on the floor of the Great House of Silence. Ephraim had rushed to his feet and unsheathed both of his rhyming swords, almost attacking the old Anu, but the fear and surprise in the old man's eyes stopped him. Frustrated and confused, Ephraim put the swords away and apologized, explaining he had received a vision of things he had never wished to see again. Anu nodded slowly and sagely.

---

The lictors annoyed him to no end. The human children and adolescents were so small he was unable to see them if they got in his way, and Ephraim found himself having to look down occasionally to make sure he wasn't about to trample one of his lictors. He could tell that they feared him; his height, his outlandish appearance and the twin rhyming swords strapped to his waist were responsible for that. Not to mention his reputation. 

So now he was a Guardian after all, a station he had silently craved for years. Being a Guardian greatly expanded his political influence and put him above the magistrates he had relied on previously to fund his work as the Pale Avenger. To mark himself as a Guardian, he had wrapped an olive-green sash around his waist. Today, he wasn't wearing his usual red, but old white robes woven by his own people; one of the few possessions he brought with him from the Far North. Olive-green and red wasn't a particularly appealing combination, after all. 

Climbing the steps of the Hall of the Guardians, Ephraim's jaw clenched and he ground his teeth. The thought of being in a room with the likes of Alaric and Leytan unsettled him greatly. When one of the lictors brushed gently against Ephraim, he spat out a curse and scolded the Pureblood child; fear bright in his eyes, the boy withdrew several feet and kept his distance. Too consumed by his own internal struggle, Ephraim paid him no further mind. 

When he stepped into the Hall, many of his former comrades were already there, like Kanros and Landar. Without speaking a word or even acknowledging the other Guardians, Ephraim strode to one of the chairs and sat down, busying himself with cleaning his rhyming swords, his gaze turned downwards. His lictors, unsure of what to do, positioned themselves by Ephraim's flank or sat themselves down on the bench behind him. 

Ephraim didn't look up until Anu began the opening ceremony. Leaving his rhyming swords crossed in front of him on the table, a statement of his hostility, he leaned back in his chair and looked around the room at the other Guardians for the first time. Kanros, ever the leader, was the first to speak. Predictably, he was concerned with the mundane consequences of the murder of the previous Guardians, like what would happen to the Great Spice Road; something that Ephraim couldn't possibly care less about. 

Landar followed. He, at the very least, touched on the subject of the occult but skimmed over it. Ephraim had always known that Landar wasn't involved with the occult much and this was confirmed once more. [i]Wise man, to keep his nose so far out of it,[/i] Ephraim thought to himself. Alas, Landar also spoke of mundane matters, like a military assault on the city. Ephraim almost let out a chuckle but maintained his composure. What use would a military attack on Dara have if their enemy could already slay Guardians without impunity, inside the city walls? 

And then Leytan. Thrice-damned Leytan and his insatiable curiosity, his heretical interest in the occult. Ephraim sneered as Leytan spoke of his knowledge of the mysteries of magic. [i]I should kill him where he stands,[/i] Ephraim thought, fingering the hilt of one of his rhyming swords. But it was what Leytan said afterwards that caused him to break out into mirthless laughter; a high, cold sound that caused Ephraim's lictors (and many of the other Purebloods in the room) to shift uncomfortably. 

Smoothing his robes, Ephraim stood up, hunched over the table, leaning on his knuckles. [b]"A lion? A bear? Leytan, [i]Leytan,[/i] for someone who calls himself Master you lack sheer common sense. The Hall of the Guardians is situated in the middle of the city. For anyone to smuggle a bear into the Hall a lot of blind eyes would have to be turned. And don't get me wrong, I know that wild animals can be ferocious and dangerous, but have you seen the scorch marks? If there is one thing all animals fear, it's [i]fire.[/i] The kind of damage wrought by the fire in this Hall is incompatible with a wild animal tearing our beloved Guardians to shreds simultaneously. Even a bear would have been cowed by such heat and light. Thirdly, do you really believe the lictors and Guardians themselves would have been overwhelmed by a wild animal, or even a group of them? We faced far worse in Melazus, Leytan, and all of us are still alive... for better or for worse."[/b] 

Ephraim let the last few words he spoke hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. [b]"The only reason I have not killed you sooner, Leytan, is that we were comrades once. I have spent more than a decade hunting down anyone who dabbles in the occult in Dara. I have seen aspiring witches and wizards attempt all manner of sorcery. I believe that, so far, all of them have failed. Nothing I have seen reminds me of Melazus, until now. I was in the Hall of the Guardians less than two hours after the attack. The air was heavy with the smell of cooked flesh; bodies littered the place, scorched to a crisp or ripped to shreds, sometimes both. It reminded me of only one thing -- all I could see in my mind's eye was those catacombs. They say smell is the sense most powerfully associated with memory, and I believe this to be true. It was the smell of sorcery, of that I am sure."[/b] 

Ephraim's rant over, he glared at Leytan and then let his gaze sweep with the room, daring anyone to disagree with him.