[hr][hr][center][color=black][b][h2]Prologue[/h2][/b][/color] [b]Port City of Ardaza, Heartlands[/b] [sub][b]Chapter I | Shadow Sun[/b][/sub][/center] [hr][hr] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/45/17/90/451790d4ed9ac3f489ec4da40077e266.jpg[/img][/center] A lone figure stumbled through a dark alley, shuffling past the refuse and filth that did oft so flood and heap up in the poorer districts of a city. The lone figure jerked to a stop- almost falling forward before their outstretched hand steadied their fall using the hard cold stone that boxed them into this tight space. The figure in question held features that were a dark ebony complexion, broad shoulders that suggested male, and a face pulled into a grimace as sweat edged his brow. The hand not held against the wall was clutched to his side as the man gasped hard. Sucking in wheezing breaths, trying to ignore the rancid stench that wafted into his nostrils and mouth with each moment he spent in this pathway. The stink here was bad enough he could practically taste it, along with the coppery taste of blood. His own. His hand pulled away from his side, and even in the fading light of Azueral’s Eye, he could see the dark red staining his hand. Each of his breaths coming harder and slower, pain like many needles pricking his skin covered his entire left side making it hard to focus. Jalbar had never felt so tired before in his whole life, even during the long vigils of meditation that marked his early training, and the urge to sleep grew stronger with every lumbering step yet he knew he had to push on. He also felt profoundly stupid. He’d been arrogant and foolish to the extreme, Kabius had always told him these were his greatest weaknesses. Now it had finally cost him everything. He resisted the urge to stop and rest, knowing that inevitably meant death, and continued forward hugging the wall for support. Jalbar nearly tripped over a discarded broken barrel and almost lost his footing. His fall was arrested by a crate that he hit hard. The sudden shock of movement then impact sent a jolt of pain up his side, and he mouthed a stream of curses. To take his mind off the pain, he fell back to his training, instead focusing on his surroundings. There was the stink of shit, piss, and fish that seemed to permeate the alley like a shroud. He could see little in what light was available. On the road ahead the lights of the street were as visible as a beacon on a stormy night. Everburn lanterns of mage fire lined the street way ahead and from what Jalbar could see there were few out at this late hour. Meanwhile, in the alley, he’d been forced to take temporary refuge in the only real light was that which spilled out from the windows above and the twice damned moon which had taken an ominous crescent shape in the sky. Like the smile of some sick god. He could hear sounds of revelry coming from within the building to his right and assumed it was some Taphouse or brothel. The odd off-key singing he could just faintly catch now and again probably meant it was the former. He swallowed as he straightened himself once more and took a step forward and almost fell to his knees. He felt weak, weaker than simple blood loss would entail. He could only assume the blade had held poison, just his luck. He took another uneasy step and suddenly coughed violently forcing him to stop and cover his mouth with a hand. He pulled it away to find fresh blood and knew the knife must have punctured his lung. That explained his shortness of breath and the pain that came with each one. He flexed the fingers of his left hand finding it to be suddenly stiff. He willed himself to take another step; he only needed to get to the street he told himself. If he could just reach out into the open perhaps- At that moment Jalbar froze as he heard a distant sound that quickened his heart. It was too much to hope he’d lost his pursuer. Then again tracking a half dead man bleeding his way from the docks was a simple enough feat a child could do it. The pain Jalbar felt now made it unlikely he’d be able to shadowstep. He’d barely been able to use it in his disastrous escape. How could he, one of the chosen Hands of Kabius, not have heard the approach of his attacker? That riddle would need to wait, however, until he was free of the current danger; edging forward he quickly and slyly etched a simple script of words into one of the stone walls and covered it with a hand before continuing. Jalbar shook his head to fight the sudden drowsiness that was beginning to ebb away his strength. He was only a few more steps from the street, and hope was starting to rear its head once more. The short walk from the alleys dead-end to here had felt like an eternity. As Jalbar was about to take another awkward step, he shuddered violently and fell to one knee as a new spark of searing pain shot through his left shoulder. He hadn't even heard the pull of a crossbow if such was what even hit him. He hissed in pain and fell to his right hitting the wall there roughly as he slid to the floor. He managed barely to pull free the dagger sheathed at his side as he leaned against the wall. He’d be damned if he was going to make it easy for them. “So troublesome,” came the voice of what Jalbar assumed was his unseen assailant. The voice sounded cultured and coldly calm as if the speaker was currently busying himself with a simple chore. The owner of that voice still stood further inside the alley, and his face was cloaked in the shadow of the high walls thanks to the position of the moon. Jalbar summoned all his strength of will to attempt to stand, but it was like trying to drag himself out of slow sinking soil. “But perhaps I should see this as… an opportunity?” Jalbar could scarcely focus on a word that was being said, just staying conscious was becoming a losing battle. He never even felt the hard edge of metal sink into his chest, and he knew no more. [hr][hr][center][color=black][b][h2]Kabius Grim[/h2][/b][/color] [b]Tower of Shade, Thulthar, Heartlands[/b] [sub][b]Early Morning[/b][/sub][/center] [hr][hr] [center][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/d2/cf/8f/d2cf8fdf4b2e956f6a4553316eb44700.jpg[/img][/center] The cold winds breeze felt like the gentle touch of a lover as its icy embrace helped awaken Kabius’ senses. The blowing gale was just short of oppressive this high up among the tall spires of the capital. The cold gust held the last vestiges of winter as the season made way for early spring. At his current vantage point, through was able to appreciate a degree of general perspective most that lived in this city rarely if ever enjoyed. Sitting upon the crown that circled the edge of the high tower that was the home of the Shade Enclave; Kabius observed the slow awakening of the city of Thulthar. Even this early in the morning as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the city in long shadows, the buzz of activity that would mark the day was already coming into full swing. The common folk going about their business, ignorant of his existence as an unseen observer. Like so many ants swarming in and out of their colony. The sight was always refreshing and held it’s own beauty. Even if viewed from a distance the city of Thulthar and her black towers seemed to rise majestically from the sea of trees that grew right up to the coastline. Among the sights was the great harbor wall curving out into the ocean, surf crashing upon it. Kabius could just make out the unique faint scent of salty sea air in the relentless winds that pulled at the edges of his coat even this high up. Still, despite the occasional harassment of the weather, Kabius’ fingers busied themselves with his most recent sketch. A strip of papyrus placed within a tablet of wood was his, albeit crude but effective, canvas, and a piece of charcoal his painters brush. He had become quite practiced in quickly forming any picture before him in stunning detail. [i]Sky[/i], his familiar and these days closest comrade, was taking long laps around the head of the tower. Now and again screeching a cry that echoed through the streets below. [i]Sky[/i] was a rare magic creature scarcely marked by the taint of the disjunction, though touched by magic from long proximity to the Archon of Shadow. Part golden eagle and part monkey, Sky was, in fact, a sylphen as the Northmen called it. In the raising sun Kabius enjoyed a moment of peace. It had been almost twenty years since the start of the Northern Campaign. Even after the fall of Nordheim and the subjugation of the tribes, it had taken years before the region began to regain anything resembling order and stability. When his shades were not hunting down rogue chieftain lords for the Archon of War, there was the troubling reports from the south. Centuries ago Mother Night had wisely taken to a slow and gradual expansion. All an aim to assure the realms of Nachesh did not see the rapid growth of Illyrica and band together in fear. By the time the Northern kingdoms had all fallen (save for Atar.) it was almost too late to stop the growth of the Empire. Almost. The Republic of Lesmiana had been born in response to the conquest of the North. So much time had been spent gathering everything to be learned of this federation of states that Kabius had had little time to keep as close an eye on the other Archons as he might have liked. A certain Archon of Blood especially. Their shadow war had since died down significantly in the past decade as Kabius was forced to look further, and further beyond the borders of Illyrica. Once he had learned every needed detail and the conquest of the south began in earnest, he’d have to start pulling inward again. He only had so many eyes. As he was putting the finishing touches on the landscape, he was forming to paper with careful strokes, when the shadows to his left darkened considerably as the light seemed to bend away from the sudden blotch of inky black. A moment later, seemingly stepping out of the impossible dark, a lithe figure cloaked in dull greys appeared several steps beside the Archon. Kabius knew right away who it was from the lightness of their steps and softness of their breathing. “Electra,” he whispered without looking up from his drawing. The woman in question stopped short and after a slight pause knelt to one knee. Seemingly unbothered by the dangerous edge she found herself so close to. “Master,” she said in a quiet voice. Kabius fought the urge to sigh. No matter how often he told her she need not be so formal on every meeting, Electra seemed married to proper protocol. He assumed it must be from her rather humble origins as a servant before Kabius had discovered her unique gifts decades ago. Perhaps there were some things one could never unlearn or grow out of. “Report,” his tone relaxed, the serenity of his surroundings combined with his favorite activity had put him in a favorable mood. “It’s Jalbar.” She seemed to hesitate for a moment. Kabius frowned slightly. “Well, what is it? He hasn’t done anything stupid I hope.” “He’s- he’s dead, my Archon.”