The Blind Valiant

CRUELLY, BLUE, IRONIC HEAVENS.

“Violence and brutal bloodletting response isn’t going to solve anything. What, you’ll round up a dozen, a score of Fells living in Phaedra and the Bazaars, and crucify them like you did on Alrudha? How do you think the Kinship will respond?”

“Louscha there isn’t any other way to answer the attack done to us?” Melek spoke, for the first time since she arrived using her name. And she couldn’t tell of she was even more incensed by the way he said it.

“Thirty-five of our guests were killed; nobles and influential Noirish gentry. The Echelon demands we arrest the perpetrators and see justice done.” Severa coined in addition.

When the Madrigal had ordered a closed door meeting of the family in his private riadh, Louscha had thought it was only going to last for at the very least an hour.

 And for the purpose of finding Kyrillos, not planning a g******e act. Much of the household had recovered from the events of the Alrudha gala but still the disaster of that night was like a reoccurring nightmare.

 For her, because it had been the last time she had seen Kyrillos. Albeit dying from a dagger wound which the Madrigal had assured he would recover from.

Yet when the sundial had crossed over twenty hours after the gala, all she had heard about the man she truly loved was how he had killed a dozen guards and attacked Lady Severa.

 Two days had gone by and all the news she managed to get were even more troubling. Kyrillos was traveling with the Fell suspected for all the licht attacks across the states.

The Madrigal always dismissed her attendance to meetings, for her to get more detailed information.

 If not for Sharur who seemed equally worried about Kyrillos, she would be in the dark of everything that was happening and certainly not be in the riadh now.

 The lush gardens abound the room did nothing to quell the arguments.

Sharur looked at them sternly, from across the table they sat around. “So what, a hundred times that number, executed should be sufficient punishment? Except you have no idea who they are; you’d be killing innocent people.”

“They are Kinship for crying out loud. They will only concede with force!” Melek cowled at him, like he had grown two detestable heads.

“Undoubtedly. They are the only opposition to the Echelon but we do not have any idea who their members are or where they hide. Arresting all and every Fell in the city on baseless suspicion will only spread panic and dissention against us, more than already is.”

“So then what do you suggest, my lady?” Lord Manfri questioned with a level look at his betrothed from where he sat in the high backed armchair at the head of the table.

“For one, recall your patrolling Potentates from their interrogations in the downtown Fell residences. They are doing nothing but harassing and aggravating that community. And the rioters that were arrested should be let go.”

“Let them go? Louscha, you cannot be serious...” Severa started to protest.

“If strangers came into our home and started to break things, beat up our children, and threaten to kill my husband for no just cause, how would you expect me to react?” Louscha retorted, cutting her sister-in-law off which she saw wasn’t something the lady appreciated.

“If your advice is to pacify them for assaulting the Reliquary, I see no need to accept it.”

Sharur glowered at his mother, “Unless you want us to end up as the encore to Marcian and Athalia Demezieres’ demise, then you have no other choice.”

“I disagree with the princess.” Melek stated.

“Of course you do.” Louscha antagonized the youngest of her fiancé’s siblings.

In return he glared at her. “Is she even supposed to be in this meeting?”

“Melek, she’s a Mortimer; marrying our brother would do that. This is a family affair.” Lady Severa cajoled her brother but silenced him from further words.

 “Yes but they are not married yet.”

“While Louscha and Sharur’s approach is not without rationale, they are wrong in saying you have no other option.” Genoa commented with a glance around the room.

The Madrigal turned his head to her and arched a brow. “Enlighten me.”

She straightened in her chair and replied. “We have the Archons at our disposal. They have the ear of their community and possibly have news to any plots going about.”

“So you want to use their religious leaders to spy on them? In case you forget, their knowledge is sacrosanct and they wouldn't break oaths for just any Echelon?”

“We aren’t any Echelon. We are Mortimers, they know the ramifications of denying us as well as helping our enemies.”

That seemed to please the Madrigal’s ears better and Louscha knew that stoking the fires of their family pride was a sure way of getting Lord Manfri’s consent.

“Louscha agrees with Sharur, Melek gives an alternative.” Lord Manfri cut an emerald look to the rest. “What are your thoughts, Elyse? Sister, have you no counsel?”

Lady Severa shrugged and folded her arms as she remarked. “You know where I stand, brother. They came into our home and caused mayhem. They shouldn’t shake the foundation if they cannot handle an earthquake.”

“So you’d rather a revolution ignited in the streets as they bay for our heads?”

Severa gritted her teeth as she replied her niece. “Like Melek said; We are Mortimers, they know how we respond to revolts.”

“Ah yes the good old Cleansing.” Genoa quipped, with cold disgust.

Sharur was glad that he wasn’t the only one affronted with horror at his mother’s implying words. Louscha, Elyse- young but not too young to not understand- and even Melek gaped at her.

“My lord, you cannot!”

“There hasn’t been a Cleansing in over a hundred years! And you would need an unanimous consent from the Echelon.”

“To even think it, is a sin to the Lemegeton.” Louscha didn’t know which statement belonged to whom, but she was eager to argue alongside them.

Lord Manfri raised a hand to silence them, which they did.

 “It was only a suggestion, like the rest of yours, I will consider with equally. Now Elyse, what counsel can you give me from what you’ve known?”

 The youngest of them in the riadh shared a look with the foreign princess who had all but whirled into their lives and stealing the adoration from everyone especially Melek.

 Elyse was much too young to be asked for opinions. She had learned of Yeliza Mortimer who had been fourteen years when she led the family.

 Perhaps I can be Yeliza. And Melek would see how intelligent I am.

“I think the best option is Melek's counsel. Accommodating the Fells in their acts of terror will only make them bolder. At least this way we find out who in particular is behind the attacks.”

Louscha caught Sharur’s shake of his head, his disappointment. Perhaps he had expected his sister would agree with him.

The Mortimer children then looked to their Madrigal to receive his choice of whose counsel he would listen and enact.

“You have given me reasonable ways to resolve this dilemma so in keeping with the arrangement of my succession. You three will have a chance to enact your own advice.”

Sharur, repulsed to his gut, stated. “And what about Kyrillos? Up until now, he was part of the succession? Or are we to cast him aside because of what’s happened?”

It was his mother who replied curtly. “And like you must be reminded, he is a fugitive of the Echelon; he just might’ve aided the attack on the Reliquary.”

 “What? That’s absurd! He’s our family, and he is the most loyal person I know.”

“Kyrillos would never do anything like that.”

“And pray tell, my lady, how well do you know him to be so sure of his nature? A journey from Halgiers to Marrąk and you think you know a lot about him?”

 Louscha scowled at Lady Severa’s tone. “You tell me? You have lived and known him all his life, why would he suddenly become a dangerous sympathizer as you seem to be making him out to be?”

 And it seemed she had hit the nail on the head, the others looked to their elders for an explanation to the oddity.

 “We will deal with Kyrillos after we have dealt with the Fell whom he’s traveling with. I already have their locations and will move on them once we have settled the closest source of danger.”

Lord Manfri surmised, deflecting the inquiry expertly. “In the meantime, Severa you will take on Sharur’s advice with Elyse, Sharur and Genoa will have Melek’s.” Lord Manfri imperiously declared. “Louscha, you and Melek will undertake Severa’s counsel; the raids, investigations and arrests of suspects.”

“What, no. I...” The princess was flummoxed and started to protest.

“You will do as I command. Or you might as well take your touching considerations about my politics and concern of my son to Arsinor or better yet back to Halgiers.” The Madrigal, the man her aunt had commanded she wed, thundered before he rose from the table.

 “And what about you? What are you going to do?” Louscha braced to ask even as she was shaken by his outburst.

 “Taking a small squadron down the Spiral Route to intercept them. I’ll transmigrate you if there’s need for reinforcement.” And the Madrigal Lord departed.

“You heard him. You know where to get what you need for your assignments.” Lady Severa said and followed her brother out.

“This is madness!” Sharur exclaimed as he abruptly got up, throwing the chair aside. He rubbed the palm of his hand over his face exasperatedly.

“Sharur, for once maybe you should do what is expected of you.” His older sister intoned reproachfully.

“And you shouldn’t be so eager to murder and torture innocents.” He snapped back and stormed out of the room.

Louscha sighed, gathering her dress and rose to her feet her feet to leave the riadh to prepare for the assignment. Melek Mortimer met her at the door, looking as pale as bone. A most conniving color for a man such as him.

 “Forgive my brother’s outburst, I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so harsh with you.”

 Louscha eyed the young man who had all but pit up a protest to every of her suggestion against oppressing the Fell community.

“If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought you would like that he did.”

 Melek smirked, “On the contrary, just because I disagree with your opinion doesn’t mean I would support your oppression.”

 They went out into the hall, taking the staircase towards the higher floors.

“As you heard, your brother has seen fit to provide an ultimatum; terrorize a defenseless and innocent community or leave. Perhaps I should take the second and save my conscience.”

“The Fells are hardly innocents, my lady.” Melek reasoned coolly.

She frowned at him, “Neither are we. Sorry to make you realize that your family didn’t marry a ruthless mortal princess.”

 Melek laughed and took her arm, pulling her to a stop close enough to him that Louscha could see the pale pinkness to his lips and cheeks.

 “I have a feeling even the Narnetian queen has none of your ruthlessness.” And he tipped her hand up to his lips, his pale eyes fixed on her face. “I’ll go ready our company of guards for the assignment.”

                                              ~♤~

After almost half a day of going west, Anduin sighted Montparnasse. The rain had left an overcast of fog over the Spiral Route leading up to the city.

 He had taken a few moments to throw a guise spell over his captive and cover his red hair with the hood of his cloak.

 The city was contained behind a white wall—a hundred feet tall and ten feet thick—with rows of rectangular arrow slits lining it and a walkway on top for soldiers and watchmen.

The wall’s smooth surface was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the eastern sea, the other opening north to the road. Above the wall, rose a huge citadel built of giant stones and turrets. In the highest tower, a lighthouse lantern gleamed brilliantly.

The castle was the only thing visible over the fortifications. Soldiers guarded the northern gate but held their pikes carelessly.

 “This is our first test,” said Anduin, low enough for Kyrillos to hear. “Let’s hope they haven’t received reports from Marrąk and won’t detain us. Whatever happens, don’t do anything suspicious or you’ll be spitting out your own tongue.”

 Fancy threats, you know how to give. Kyrillos thought but said nothing.

 Anduin rode toward the gate, trying to appear casual. A green pennant bearing the outline of an eagle holding a lily blossom waved over the entrance.

 Kyrillos remembered that Montparnasse was under the control of the Amshardt crown and though they were on unstable grounds with the Echelon, they wouldn’t want to harbor fugitives or rebels against the Noirish.

At the entrance to the city, the guards stood straighter and blocked the gate with their pikes.

 “What’s yer name?” asked one of them in a bored tone.

“I’m Verse,” said Anduin in a wheezy voice that was so untoward of his person, slouching to one side.

“And who’s th’ other one?” asked the guard, glancing behind him at Kyrillos.

 “My scum cousin. We were coming to see if we can hire a healer, the boy got himself into an accident this morn.”

 The guard peered closer at Kyrillos’ face, his expression grimacing tightly with revulsion. “What’s wrong with his face?”

“Sepilla berries, the fool thought it’d be good to touch ‘em.” Anduin replied. “I hear it gives a nasty rash down to the groin, very contagious too.”

 The guard gulped loudly, before he tipped himself back and away from them. Then he waved them inside.

 “What in the name of the Divines is sepilla berries?” Kyrillos had to ask as they rode past the gates, hearing the guard telling his comrade about his affliction.

“You would know it as cambion seeds.” Anduin answered.

 Confused, Kyrillos stated, “But it doesn’t give any rash...”

A mischievous smirk wore itself on the rebel's face as he responded. “They don’t know that. Mortals are even more stupid than you Noirs. But it helps that you look quite the unfortunate patient of a nasty rash.”

 Kyrillos looked down at his hands and saw that he indeed looked like he was suffering from a skin condition of reddened sores.

 “Maybe I should leave the spell on you till I get to bargain you for passage. Save me a lot of trouble.”

 “Don’t you dare.” Kyrillos snapped at him. “You’re taking it off as soon as we are out of here.”

And he laughed, a deep rumbling sound that reverberated through Kyrillos’ body. “I almost forgot how vain you people are.”

 But before Kyrillos could counter his snarkiness, a rippling force lashed out from nowhere and knocked Anduin off the horse.

The horse neighed noisily, raising up on its kind legs that Kyrillos had to grab reflexively for the horse's brown mane to keep himself on its back.

 The sudden outburst of manæ was already sending the entire quad of the city into wild hysterics; gate soldiers running forward, yelling orders.

 But Kyrillos was looking around for the source of it and stopped as he saw the paltry of soldiers bearing the green and silver insignia of the Echelon with the familiar face of Lord Manfri at the helm.

 “Look!” Kyrillos yelled, trotting the horse over to his captor who was staggering up to his feet, brushing off hay and stone debris.

 Anduin jerked his face up and widened at the sight of the Echelon. How did they get here so fast? Unless…

 “Mortimer.” he cursed back at Kyrillos as he drew the shortsword he had to his waist, and pulled Kyrillos off the steed to keep him at his side.

 Anduin held his arm tight at he turned to place the soldiers in clear view. “What are you doing? They’ll kill us... we need to run.”

He shook him violently to be quiet as he snarled close to his face, the sharp blade of the sword pressing hard against his skin. “Hostage, remember? Let’s see how much your father cares for you.”

 Kyrillos felt the fear which sent his heart into a panicked race, his hands tried loosening the grip on him. “No... you don’t understand...”

 The Echelon soldiers had already surrounded them, iron spears and arrows drawn to their targets as the Madrigal climbed off his horse and gauged their position with eyes as hard as emeralds.

 “Hold!” the Madrigal commanded them to stillness as he approached carefully.

“Father,” he croaked out. Should I  even be calling you that? “W-Why are you here?”

“What do you mean why am I here? I came to get my son back.” Lord Manfri replied with a somber look.

 “Back? Back to be tortured and killed?”

“Why would you think I would want to harm you? Whatever happened at the Reliquary wasn’t your fault. You’re suffering from an adverse effect from the rejuvenation spell I used to bring you back.”

 “What are you saying? Bring me back...?”

Lord Manfri nodded solemnly, “You died a few days ago at the gala... that rebel stabbed you right in the heart.” He pointed at Anduin. “I couldn’t lose my only son, so I had to bring you back. I knew you would have some imbalance in your memories which is why I had you secluded for your own good.”

 “That’s a lie!” Anduin growled back, pulling the two of them backwards. “Noirish have never possessed the sorcery of resurrection, that power belongs to us.”

 But the Madrigal retorted calmly, “And yet he stands here; alive and your captive. You have no idea what powers I possess and unless you wish to find out, you will let my son go.”

 Anduin narrowed a vicious look at the man who was famous for being a brutal warrior as well as a merciless sorcerer.

 He mentally counted the soldiers around them; the Madrigal’s and the city guards who no doubt saw him as the enemy.

 “That... this doesn’t make any sense. Why Severa attacked me... why I suddenly have power over manæ? She said I’ve been under a spell for generations...”

 “Your aunt would never do anything to harm you, you know this. What happened... what you think happened days ago was just part of the trauma of coming back to life. Your mind hasn’t adjusted to it; you attacked her and she tried to calm you down.”

 Kyrillos swallowed hard, his head working through the sudden headaches racking up his skull.

 Lord Manfri stepped closer, his green eyes pleaded, “I know this, your distressed and frayed mental state, is my fault but I will take you home, back to your family, and help you recover before your condition escalates into permanent lunacy. That’s what family does for each other.”

“We are Mortimers... heirs of the Lemegeton.”

“It will only prove how much you and I are the same, son.”

“They’ve always seen you as the second coming of Lavinia.”

The memories of the Mortimers coalesced to the front of Kyrillos’ mind, echoing through the years he had known them.

 The strong hands that held his baby arms to guide him on his first steps. The trainings he’d had with Sharur, Ruscha and Genoa; their laughs... their tears...

Anduin realizing his hostage was slipping in his resolve, pulled Kyrillos back and unsheathed his sword to hold him against his body as a shield and said to the Madrigal.

“This isn’t some reunion. You want your son, let me pass and after a mile away from the city and I don’t see any of your men, then I’ll release him.”

 Manfri screwed his gaze to the Fell, drawing his sword and facing him.

“Ah Anduin Verse, such trouble you have become to my family as well as many in Arsinor. Yes I know who you are, stand aside from my son.”

 ‘I’ll always find you... when have I ever broken a promise? They cannot have the two of us...’

‘Fiorenze.’

Kyrillos blinked hard as his Mortimer memories were superimposed, fractured by those of his dreams- stranger, unfamiliar and yet more vivid... more possessive.

 “Kyrillos...” He squinted and saw that three individuals had stepped out from the cavalry of Echelon soldiers. He recognized them immediately.

 Severa and Sharur. “Sharur,” Kyrillos’ voice came out in a wistful sigh of seeing someone familiar and friendly.

“Cousin,” Sharur smiled warily. “Always one for getting into terrible messes, huh?” A wan smile cracked itself on Kyrillos’ face as Sharur stated. “I heard what happened. We came to get you, Kyrillos.”

 “Don’t make this any more complicated than it is, Mortimer. Do we have a deal or not?” Anduin scowled at the convergence of more powerful Noirish, his grip tightened around the hilt of the sword at Kyrillos’ throat.

 Now he had three sorcerers to combat with. Any hope of getting an advantage over them was thinning by the second.

 Sharur, frowned at the Fell and with a flick of his hand caused Anduin’s sword to zoom out of his grasp and into his. “That’s enough from you.” He remarked holding the sword.

 s**t! He started to summon manæ, a pulsating heat surged from his chest and coursing through to his hands.

 “You are taking him back over my dead corpse.” Anduin growled.

“That can be very well arranged, Fell.” Sharur retorted dangerously, his eyes shining with the manæ he had undoubtedly called up.

 “Wait, wait... Sharur, stop.” Kyrillos interceded, raising his hands towards the both of them.

“You said they tried to kill you.” Anduin turned his words to Kyrillos. He didn’t know why he was reminding Kyrillos of it. “That you were running away from them. Do you think they wouldn’t resort to this strategy... this lie to get you to come willingly?”

 “Don’t listen to him. He’s the enemy here, Kyrillos. He’s trying to manipulate your vulnerability so he can escape. He’s been holding you hostage for only that reason and after that he'd kill you.”

 Kyrillos wasn’t aware of what happened next but it was like his sight and all his other senses were suddenly taken by a spurious sensation which he somehow understood.

 One moment he was seeing half of his family trying to reason him back from the edge of what they called lunacy and the next his entire body was riddled with one single feeling about said family.

 Liars.

 And almost as if Manfri sensed his sudden resignation against him, the Madrigal’s hands sparked as tendrils of blue lightning arced through his fingers before he fired it at the two of them even as Sharur shouted in protest.

 Kyrillos’ reaction was instinctive, though the watching townspeople would say it was reckless and suicidal to jump in front of a bolt of lightning.

 But his hand shot out and grabbed the bolt straight out of the air, to the amazement of everyone watching, it fizzled into his palms; absorbed into the recesses of welling emotions without much damage.

 Kyrillos let out a sigh of relief, looking down at his unmarked hands and back up to see that only Sharur was shocked by the outcome.

 But he turned away, grabbing Anduin by the shoulder just as Lord Manfri ordered his troops to attack.

It was as it had happened with Severa back at the Reliquary, he seemed able to anticipate their attacks and both his and Anduin’s bodies vanished away from the quad in a shimmering burst of dark violet light.

 They appeared at a few paces behind the Echelon troops- out of sight and untouched by their enemies attacks.

 Anduin gasped out in surprise and looked at Kyrillos, mouthing “How did you...” but then the Madrigal found them and shot another bolt of lightning.

 Kyrillos ducked and parried the attack with his own summoned lightning bolt which overwhelmed the Madrigal's, throwing the man back. But then Severa rushed forward to shoulder him from falling.

 “Come on, we have to go!” they dashed past the houses and were almost to the edge of Montparnasse when Kyrillos’ forehead tingled and he looked up to see Sharur hovering above them.

 They still ran though Kyrillos kept Sharur in sight, dodging the shooting arrows and targeted spells from the soldiers running after them.

 Anduin saw a flicker of movement to his right, then a pulling sensation yanked him back. But because he was holding Kyrillos, they were both pulled.

They flew back over the fence of tied mules and crashed into a wall. Gasping and stunned, Anduin staggered upright, hugging his side as he shook dust from his head and looked around for Kyrillos.

 But he saw a soldier standing over him, face set in a gross leer. The man was tall, thick, and broader than a doorway. Muscles bulged on his arms and chest, which was covered by a breastplate.

His powerful hand held a short, wicked double edged axe.

 Behind him, Anduin finally saw Kyrillos trying to evade the younger looking Mortimer’s manæ, vanishing and appearing from one spot to another in incredible speed and precision.

 Without much thought, Anduin sent his manæ into the earth around them. Tunneling deep and wide around the city, as he called for their dead.

 The ground rumbled and shook, skeletal and rotted hands tore through the earth as his revenants answered his call.

In the mania of his licht spell, Anduin gave them a quick command to hold off the Echelon troops while he got to Kyrillos.

 He should’ve used the chance to escape, leave the Mortimers to kill themselves and handle his undead.

 But seeing how manipulative the Madrigal had been a few moments ago, using mind tricks to convince Kyrillos of a madness he didn’t have.

It made Anduin feel sympathy for the boy he had killed and taken hostage for some days now.

 Whatever the Madrigal wanted him for, seemed to be of utmost significance if he would resort to that kind of deception.

 With that, Anduin was resolved to escape Montparnasse but also with Kyrillos. Kyrillos tackled a soldier, disarming him easily and taking his spear to fend off another as skillfully as he had him at the gala.

Anduin started back, only to be stopped by the appearance of a second soldier, this one with an ax.

“Run, you fool!” Kyrillos shouted from somewhere to his right, piercing the spear through his enemy’s mouth.

 The soldier in front of Anduin lunged forward and swung his sword mightily.

 Anduin jerked back with a startled yelp as the weapon whistled past his cheek. He raised a shield of manæ up, spinning low to kick the soldier in the gut.

 Bringing his adversary down, Anduin struck his hand into his chest and ripped out the pounding heart.

His stomach rumbled from hunger as he realized he hadn’t eaten in days. But this wasn’t the right moment for that.

He tossed the organ aside and ran into the battalion of soldiers, his manæ leashing outward in a flare of crimson red almost upon him.

 Anduin whispered the spell under his breath, spinning to a stop, took aim, and released. Stalks of red spikes shot out from the ground, snaked forward and around dozen of the soldiers and ripped them apart.

 He picked up an abandoned sword just in time to defend himself from the few who had protected themselves from his sorcery.

 Anduin sprang to his feet and rushed back towards where he saw Kyrillos, who was trading fierce blows with the stern faced Lady Severa from horseback.

Where is the Madrigal? And the other one? wondered Anduin frantically. There was a loud smack, and the horse reared, whinnying. Kyrillos doubled over the saddle, blood streaming down his arm.

 The Noirish lady beside him smirked in triumph and she raised the sword in her hand to deliver the death blow.

 They really want to kill him. But why? They’re his family... are they really this cruel to want to kill their own? Unless he is...

A deafening scream tore out from above them and Anduin saw the younger Mortimer barrel into the woman, knocking the sword out of her hand.

 “Mother, what are you doing? That’s Kyrillos, you cannot kill him.” The one Kyrillos had called Sharur railed at the woman, utterly horrified.

 “No he isn’t. He’s a dangerous fiend, far more dangerous than you imagine. Now get out of the way!”

 Sharur turned a confused look down at Kyrillos who was slowly rising to his feet. “Kyrillos...” his words trailed as Lord Manfri came into view; hovering in mid air as he made a short, stabbing motion with his right hand, a blinding bolt of light flashing out and blasting the hordes of undead to cinders.

 When Kyrillos looked up to the sky at his airborne father, all he saw was rage plastered over the Madrigal’s face. His stomach sank with dread as Lord Manfri raised his hand to sky.

 A groaning rumble echoed as storm clouds gathered, Lord Manfri jerked his hand downward at Kyrillos.

 Searing bolts slammed into the earth all around him, shaking the ground, blasting superheated air and smoldering earth, sound.

The bystanders, cowering away from the battle knocked over by the force of such blatant sorcery.

 The lightning branched, three times, four times for each bolt, and then branching again, pounding the fabric of existence around where Kyrillos had stood.

  Anduin gasped in horror as everyone was crouched in place, instinctively presenting low profiles to the storm’s electric fury, except Manfri Mortimer, who floated, still pointing down at his obliterated son.

 Bits of metal and earth and charred corpses spattered about Anduin.

   Nine bolts in all, as best Anduin could count, each bolt branching multiple times, rolling concussions running into each other. 

Then it faded, the brutal, eye-searing blasts and thunder fading into the still-sheeting rain, the ground split and the smell of burning air clogged their noses.

 But when the dust settled, amidst the smears of blackened ground, they didn’t find a decimated corpse of the boy as they had figured from someone targeted by such a destructive attack.

 Kyrillos staggered to his feet, unharmed except for a trail of blood down his forehead. He looked up at the Madrigal- his father who had aimed to kill him- brows furrowed down into a vexed scowl.

 Anduin sensed the turbulent manæ cascading from Kyrillos in waves, and again there was an ominous rumble in the skies, unconsciously he stepped back just in time for it to explode out of Kyrillos.

 The entire city shook on its foundations as if an earthquake was underway as the surge of dark purple light blazed and bounded across the city, as if the lightning storm that had raged out at Kyrillos had returned with twofold vengeance.

 The Madrigal and his company were thrown back by the force, Anduin’s lichts were burned to ashes and it took him only a moment to raise a shield spell to protect himself.

 But even that was ineffective, as his spell broke apart under the force of the rebound and he too was flung to the walls of an alley.

Anduin groaned at the splitting ache up and down his spine but struggled up to his feet.

 But then he fell back with a painful yelp caught in his throat. He looked down at his left leg and saw that thee limb had been burned deep by the blast.

 Anduin cursed hard as he drew up power to heal himself. But whether it was the pain distracting him or the degree of injury he had, his manæ did nothing to assuage the damage.

 He slumped back to the wall, blinking back dizzying lights.

 “You alright?” that familiar voice came and Anduin raised his gaze down to see Kyrillos at his side.

 “Does it look like I’m alright? Next time you want to blow up an entire city, give me a some warning.”

 Kyrillos rolled his eyes, “I don’t know how I did all that. It just happened.”

 It just happened? This is the second time you’re supposed to be dead and are not! Anduin peered at his face, trying to see if he was lying for some reason. But all he saw was genuine confusion and dread.

 “Then we need to leave before your family recovers. There’s no way Lord Manfri Mortimer was killed in that blast.”

 Kyrillos nodded, quickly understanding and throwing his arm over his shoulder to help him up. “Yes.”

 They used the other end of the alley and reached a backstreet that was fortunately filled with running citizens and frenzied horses.