Out of the Cave

Surely the strangest thing about this situation, Jiriinii thought, was how completely and utterly indifferent the Flen was about everything. Her father sat almost completely immovable in his chair, eyes wide and jaw completely loose. Kiinrin kept looking back and forth between the perfect Iniriija and the rotten Nirastig. His lips seemed to mutter a whole smattering of exclamations, but he never let the words grow loud enough to be heard. Vilkanai looked as though he might go into a religious trance. He looked at the beings as if they were god himself.

The Flen, Efstany, however, simply stood and smiled like a foolish child. He stared at the mirror, smiling at the three strange beings in the reflection. Two perfect, one marred, they looked back at him with a sort of grim determination that Jiriinii could not place.

“How do you know so much, servant of the Void?” Jiriinii’s reflection, Iniriija, said. “I was under the impression that none of Aia’s children knew of our existence.”

“Times are different, my lady.” Efstany said with a bow. “Aia and Oio both saw fit to grant me information about the events that are about to come to pass.”

“Interesting.”  Nirnik mused, rubbing his chin. Jiriinii desperately tried to calm the dizziness that had taken hold of her from seeing Kiinrin’s reflection move independently. It was almost too much to bear.

“What is, my lord?” Efstany replied with a raised eyebrow. “Surely all of Aia’s doings are strange in our imperfect minds.”

“It’s not that.” Nirnik shook his head. “I forgot that my master went to such lengths to mask the truth about his nature.” He waved his hand. “But it does not matter.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, oh ye servants of Aia.” Nirastig said acidly. “But I believe that your perfect understandings are far beyond what our vessels are able to comprehend.” He pointed at Gestarin, Kiinrin, and Jiriinii in turn. “I think some explanation is in order.”

“Of course.” Iniriija said with a shake of her head. “How silly of us. First, we must destroy some certain pieces of false knowledge your father holds onto.” Gestarin looked up at this statement, some amount of feeling returning to his face.

“What do you mean?” He said slowly, blinking away the storm of thoughts that surged in his fatigued mind. “False pieces of knowledge?”

“Ideas, really.” Nirastig replied offhandedly. He leaned back in the reflection of the chair, once again making Jiriinii’s head spin. “There are just a few that you possess that do not measure up with how the world really works. It shouldn’t be too hard for a man of your… erm… sound character to divulge yourself of them.”

“Enough riddles, Nirastig.” Gestarin said angrily. “Speak clearly, for once in your life.”

“Your heresy, your majesty.” Nirastig grinned. “Such silly beliefs are unbecoming of one of Aia’s chosen. Personally, I think not believing in the hand that cares for you is a little childish. A bit like not believing in your child as you hold them tight in your arms.” Nirastig shrugged. “Idiotic, really.” He wagged a sarcastic finger at the King. “You really should work on these things.”

“My ‘heresy’,” Gestarin growled, “is completely irrelevant at this point. The existence of Aia has nothing to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with it!” Nirastig shouted, slamming his hand against the table in the mirror. Eerily, the table in the physical world shook with the force of his blow. “You, Gestarin Galarin, have been chosen by the hand of God itself, and yet you continually profess its nonexistence.” He narrowed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “You will come to know the Lord God of Oaiao, little one, or everything you have will be stripped away at the time of reckoning.”

“I will not believe in a god whom I have never seen.” Gestarin crossed his arms stubbornly. Jiriinii almost laughed at the childish gesture. “Unless Aia himself commands it, I will not follow ‘his will’.” He shook his head. “Too much heartache has come about because of it.”

Nirastig narrowed his eyes and sat back forcefully. “Very well then.” He looked past Gestarin at the Jods that stood behind him. “I apologize for the request, Lord Jods, but we cannot continue until this is resolved. Do you mind…?”

“Not at all, Lord Nirastig.” Vilkanai said, and he gestured at Kiinrin and Jiriinii to draw their Aetherblades. Jiriinii did so reluctantly, unsure of what was about to happen. Kiinrin, however, drew his Blade with a strange sort of enthusiasm that Jiriinii had rarely seen in him. The only other time she had seen it was when they had learned to fly.

Vilkanai drew his white Sickle slowly, either aniticipating or fearing the next moment. He looked at it, contemplated it, before raising his left hand to the Blade and pulled the edge along his palm. White blood flowed.

“Unbond your Blades, children.” He commanded, closing his eyes and plucking the Outlet from his own. The Blade instantly liquified and splattered onto the floor. “Quickly now.”

What is going on? Jiriinii thought as she did the same motion, jumping out of the way slightly to avoid getting Aether on her armor. What is the purpose of this?

Hush, child. Iniriija said in her head. You shall see shortly.  Jiriinii was skeptical, but she watched Vilkanai to avoid thinking about it too much.

With a single, strange word, Vilkanai called to the Aether. It responded instantly, pooling into one large puddle on the ground that roiled and rippled to some unseen breeze. Vilkanai began muttering something in the Jod language as he lifted his palm over the pool and dripped blood into the center of it. The Aether reacted instantly, sucking the blood into the center of it even as it began to rise off the ground. Jiriinii gasped, taking an involuntary step away from it. The Aether continued to grow and rise, beginning to form the rough shape of a man. Somewhere amid the fear that gripped her heart, Jiriinii realized she had seen this before. But where?

After a moment, the image of a perfect man in white stood amidst the group. Iniriija, Nirastig, and Nirnik all bowed in the mirror.

“Lord Aia.” They said in unison. “We are deeply ashamed for summoning you at such a moment, but we saw no other way to solve our dilemma.”

The man smiled. “Peace, children. I understand, and I have come to drive away the doubt of the King.” He turned his eyes to Kiinrin and Jiriinii. “Well met, little ones. You have done well.”

“Thank you, Lord Aia.” Kiinrin bowed. “Forgive my sister, she is unaccustomed to visits from deity.”

Aia laughed. “I would be surprised if she was, Lord Kiinrin. Such things are not common in the world of men.” He looked Jiriinii in the eyes and smiled warmly. “Fear not, little one. Your troubles are nearly over.”

Jiriinii nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Aia turned slowly around to look at Gestarin, a grim look on his face. Gestarin looked shocked and terrified. His fingers trembled as he took in deep breaths of air.

“This is unbecoming of you, King Gestarin.” Aia said reproachfully. Gestarin cringed at the words, as if each stung like the prick of a knife. “Why do you doubt so much after all you have seen, all you have experienced? One would think the only man to survive the Void would trust more in the powers that rule this world.”

“I…” Gestarin stuttered. “I thought… that…”

“I have no need for your excuses.” Aia interrupted. “Only your allegiance and support.” He raised an eyebrow. “Will you become a man, and put away your childish things?”

Gestarin took a deep ragged breath. “I will, my lord.”

Aia nodded. “Good. You are far too important to hold on to your childish views.” Gestarin didn’t reply, but hung his head dejected. Jiriinii almost laughed again. Her father looked like herself after a scolding.

Aia turned toward Efstany, who looked at God with a calm face. “Well met, Efstany.” He said with a nod. “Are you prepared?”

“I am, my lord.” Efstany said, then grinned sheepishly. “Though I did have to put away some of my own childish views.” He cocked his head. “Am I still under an oath of secrecy? Must I keep my knowledge away from others?”

“Unfortunately, my child, it must ever be so.” Aia shook his head. “To know of the ends will destroy the means. Their efforts must be purely their own.”

“I thought as much.” Efstany bowed deeply. “Thank you, my lord.”

“You are most welcome.” Aia returned the bow and turned toward Vilkanai. “Gather your people, lord Jod. A battle is coming, though not one you would expect. Send for my hand. He must be here ere it commences.”

Vilkanai nodded. “I will, my lord.”

Aia nodded and looked at everyone in turn. “You are all blessed to be a part of these events. I pray for your success.” With that, his features melted until the puddle of Aether lay at their feet once more.

Vilkanai replaced his Outlet into his hilt. “You may rebond your Blades now, children.” They all placed their hilts into the pool and muttered the Bloodoaths. Their Blades reformed quickly and they sheathed them once again in their wrists.

“Well,” Nirastig sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m glad we could get that out of the way.”

“How did you…” Gestarin said softly. “How… When…”

“There are advantages in possessing the Aether.” Vilkanai said, and he slumped down into a chair. Jiriinii was alarmed by how exhausted the Jod looked. “Though there are costs.”

Gestarin forced a laugh. “I suppose I must sever my blade now, what with my newfound belief in Aia.”

“I think the world would much prefer it if you didn’t, Lord Gestarin.” Iniriija said quickly. “Your skill with your Blade is most certainly still needed.”

“I don’t understand.” Kiinrin said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

Gestarin smiled at his son. “It’s just an old joke between your mother and I. When I would complain about the Harvesters-”

“Yes, well.” Nirastig interrupted. “We can now move forward.” He looked at Jiriinii, Gestarin, and Kiinrin pointedly. “There are things you three need to know.”

“What my blunt brother is trying to communicate,” Nirnik said, shooting a look at Nirastig. Aia’s blood, they almost seemed like real siblings! “You three have a special role in upcoming events, and you have to know what that role is before you can continue.”

“You three have been specially chosen to hold the aspects of the Gods.” Iniriija said grandly, silencing the bickering brothers. “You shall be his heralds when a new beginning arises.”

“Are we allowed to know what that beginning is?” Kiinrin asked with a raised eyebrow. “You three have been talking in circles this entire time, and we have gained nothing by it.”

“We cannot tell you that, Lord Kiinrin.” Nirnik sighed. “We cannot even tell you what you are required to do until the moment it is required. And much more must happen before that time comes.”

“What more?” Jiriinii spluttered, all her confusion coming to a head. “What more could we possibly do to prepare for something we aren’t even allowed to know?” She was shouting by the end of the speech, and the three personages in the mirror looked shocked.

Before they could answer, however, a rumbling began to shake the very room the group sat in. It started as no more than a faint buzz, but soon it had grown to a shaking tremor that rocked Jiriinii back and forth in her chair. Still it grew more intense, so much that Jiriinii was sure the stone palace would collapse on top of them. Just as she thought the roof would fall in on their heads, the rumbling stopped, replaced by the loudest crash Jiriinii had ever heard. It was like no sound she had ever experienced, screeching and booming beyond any compare. She clapped her hands over her ears in agony and screamed, hoping irrationally that her screams would drown out the noise. She was scarcely able to look around and see her family and friends all doing the same- except for Efstany. He stood completely still, even as the rest were falling to the ground.

“The Void.” He said grimly. “It has grown. Far more than any of us had ever feared.”

* * *

Yrit didn’t really appreciate being disturbed while he was relieving himself. He especially did not like it when there was no apparent perpetrator. And, after adding a noise that would make even the most wise man lose his mind, it was no surprise why Harvester King Yrit broke his chamber pot.

Really, Finaril. Liranif said mockingly as Yrit anxiously scooted away from the evil liquid that was spreading on the ground. Surely a man of your stature wouldn’t shy away from an insignificant ooze. Be a man, Highking! Vanquish it!

Shut up! Yrit screamed in his head. He slammed his palms against his ears, hoping to lessen the pain somewhat. Just shut up!

Oh, but this is glorious. Liranif scoffed. The invincible Yrit Yvilirin, cowering on the ground.

What’s happening? Yrit shot back, allowing some if his fear to seep into the exclamation. What’s causing this?

The Void, oh my king. Liranif’s voice was smug. The Void is beginning to signal the end of days. As he said this, the noise suddenly stopped completely, leaving Yrit to praise the blessed silence. After a noise of such magnitude, it was hard to hear anything. Well, that was fine with him. Silence was a beautiful thing that he appreciated for the first time. Now, why in Aia’s name could he still hear Liranif?

Yrit struggled to his feet, still making an effort to keep away from the yellow-brown ooze that was moving sluggishly across the floor. He needed to find out what had happened, if anyone was hurt, If this thing involved the Void, as Liranif said, then people would almost certainly blame the church. They would blame him.

Calm yourself, Lyxiv. Liranif growled, using Yrit’s old House name. He never did that except in matters of the utmost importance. The time to fret is over. The time of actions has come.

Tell me what happened, then. Yrit pleaded. Dear god, what kind of child had this catastrophe turned him into? Couldn’t he keep a tight grip on his emotions? I need to know what is going on.

I already told you, your majesty. Liranif sneered. The Void is happening.

What does that even mean? Yrit nearly screamed out loud, grabbing the mirror from off the bedside table and shaking it soundly. Riddles and quips were no help to him. He needed facts.

Aia above, Liranif swore, rubbing his temples in the reflection. He gestured forcefully at the window. Will you quit your blabbering and just go look? I’m tired of dealing with your infinite density.

Yrit paused, raising an eyebrow. The window? Why the window? Reluctantly, he walked over to the glass pane and peered out at the horizon. Or rather, what would have been the horizon, if there hadn’t been a great big black wall marring nearly all of it.

“Blood and Aether…” Yrit swore out loud. “What in Aia’s name happened?”

That is what we call growth, your majesty. Liranif chuckled. The Void has grown.

But how? Yrit countered. How could that happen?

The power of Aia is a strange thing. Liranif said simply, and then he was gone.

Yrit continued to stare at the blackness, terrified by the implications. There was no horizon at all, now. Even the sky, normally filled with stars, was completely black as the Void extended into the heavens. The entity was so large that Yrit couldn’t even begin to guess where it ended and where it began. How far away was it? A mile? A foot? Yrit didn’t know, and he had no way to find out.

“So,” A familiar voice said behind him. “It has begun. Just as he said it would.” Yrit turned, flicking his left arm out to draw his Blade. A stranger, dressed in a black vest and trousers, smiled. “There is no need for that.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I mean no harm.”

“Who are you?” Yrit growled, refusing to lower his arm. He wasn’t an idiot. “What do you want?”

“I wish to talk with you.” The man said. “As for who I am, well…” He held out his arms. “You tell me.” Four bone spikes protruded from his wrist and shoulders. “How many of these does it take to damn a man?”

Yrit gasped, his knees trembling and the blood fleeing from his face. He lowered his arms as he desperately tried to stay erect. He began to stutter, but he was only able to get out one word. “Flen.”

The man nodded. “I thought you might recognize those, even if you didn’t recognize my face.” He took a step closer. “Do you recognize my face, Xanilar? Do you remember at all?”

Yrit’s stomach clenched as the old, painful name he had stolen tumbled off of the man’s lips. “How do you know that name?” He snapped, backing away from the Flen. “Why are you here?”

“I told you, Yrin.” The man shook his head and held up his hands once more. “I am only here to talk.” He smiled ruefully. “And if you don’t remember enough to know why I know your name, then there is no way I alone can force you into recollection.”

It appeared that Liranif wasn’t the only one who could speak in riddles.

“Well, then, speak.” Yrit commanded. He had had enough of beating around bushes.

“Do you understand anything about Aia, Lord Xanilar?” The Flen said, gesturing to the Void. “Do you know anything about actual scripture?”

“Of course.” Yrit nodded. He had nearly memorized the entire Book of Aia. “I’m a Harvester.”

“And what does it say about the end of days?” The Flen raised an eyebrow. “What apocalypse does it predict?”

Yrit thought back to the Eliran’s Scrolls, the books of prophecy kept safely in the palace at Xexera. “It says that in the last days, the powers of Oio shall spread to all the world, swallowing everything in its wake.” He held his head up high. “And when the world shall nearly be covered, Aia’s chosen shall rise up and smite it back to its beginning.” He looked up at the ceiling, recalling the exact scripture. “‘And in those days, Aia shall walk among men, calling men to his cause and bringing evil to justice. The world shall be filled with his light, and the heavens will...’” He stopped. “I think it says balance after that, but I’m not sure.”

“Close enough.” The man nodded. “In recitation if not doctrine.” He pointed out the window at the Void. “Would you say that the powers of Oio are spreading?”

Yrit looked at him dumbly. “What are you saying?”

“I am trying to tell you, Lord Xanilar,” the Flen sighed, rubbing his eyes, “that you are living in the end of days. Not only that,” He pointed at the mirror. “You are one of Aia’s chosen. I suggest that you act accordingly.”

I knew it. Yrit thought to himself, involuntarily puffing his chest up. I knew there was a reason I was chosen for greatness.

“Thank you for telling me this, Lord Flen.” Yrit said with a nod. “I shall do my duty to the highest degree.”

“I believe you will.” The Flen smiled. “Lives will be saved by your actions.”

With those words, the Flen turned into black smoke and flew out the window.

I like him. Liranif chuckled. He’s very much like me.

Yrit wondered what that meant.

* * *

Even as he flew away from Matrikai, Radiran thought he might lose his concentration and revert back to human form. Sorrow coursed through him, burned inside him like an inferno. He hadn’t lied to his traitor of a father. Yrit would certainly save lives with his actions.

To do it, however, he would have to die.

* * *

“You have much explaining to do, Flen.” Vilkanai growled as they all stumbled to their feet, with the exception of Jiriinii. She lay cowering on the ground, her hands clamped firmly over her ears.

“My words need no explanation.” Efstany responded quietly. “They speak for themselves.”

“Your words hold no meaning!” Vilkanai shouted, throwing Efstany against a wall. “You speak in riddles, but your very presence causes bloodshed and sorrow.” Vilkanai put his hand on his Aetherblade. “I have half a mind to kill you now and end these troubles.”

“Lord Vilkanai!” Gestarin bellowed forcefully. “You will not harm a guest of the King!”

“He holds no purpose, your majesty.” Vilkanai called, keeping his eyes locked on Efstany. “He brings death and destruction anywhere he goes!”

“Wrong!” A chorus of voices roared out. In the shards of the mirror, a dozen different reflections of Nirastig could be seen, each with a voice. “Death and destruction follow the Void! You all know this!” Nirastig was seething in the mirror. Gestarin had never seen him like this. “Will you all put aside your stinking emotions and just look for yourselves?”

There was silence for a moment. Vilkanai grudgingly let go of Efstany, who brushed himself off quickly.

“Look at what?” Kiinrin said, helping Jiriinii stand. “What are we supposed to see?”

“The window, Lord Kiinrin.” Nirastig sighed. “Look out the bloody window.” There was a clamor as all five of the skeptics clamored to see what he was talking about.

“Aia’s blood…” Gestarin swore, looking back at the mirror with wide eyes. “Is that the Void?”

“Indeed it is, Lord Gestarin.” Iniriija said solemnly. “The Emperor of Junar did not lie to you with his last words. The Void is indeed expanding. What he didn’t know, however, was how quickly it would do so.”

“How far?” Gestarin croaked. “How far off is it?”

“A mile.” Nirnik said bluntly. “It is a mile outside the gates of Matrikai.”

“And it’s the same distance all around?” Kiinrin blurted. “The same width?” Nirnik nodded. Kiinrin walked shakily over to the table, sat down, and put his head into his hands.

Gestarin simply leaned against the windowsill, though he felt as though he were about to faint. If that were true, so many lives had been lost. Reledan, Quasexa, and Junar all may have very well been destroyed. What was left? He guessed that Valanal, the Pwolarog Islands, a small fraction of Matrikai, and the Untamed Forests survived.

Could this be stopped?

“Of course it can be, Gestarin.” Nirastig said softly. Gestarin was surprised by the amount of compassion that was in his voice. That rarely happened.

“Nirastig is right.” Nirnik said. “But there is someone else you need to accomplish it.”

“Someone else?” Jiriinii said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“That,” Iniriija interrupted, “is one of our problems. I believe his presence sparked the discussion that led our introduction.”

Gestarin thought he could hear a pin drop. It couldn’t be. There was no possible way. Why would a conniving, evil man such as Yrit Yvilirin be chosen as one of Aia’s servants?

“He is an evil man.” Iniriija nodded gravely. “But his presence is necessary to our plans. Like it or not, he is one of Aia’s chosen. And he has a part to play in all of this.”

“That rat should be dead in a ditch, not sitting on a throne being blessed by god.” Vixin growled, speaking up for the first time in a long while. “Why would Aia choose such a wicked individual?”

Such vehemence from Vixin surprised Gestarin, and he said as much. “What is your quarrel with Highking Yrit, Viceroy? Surely he is evil, but your apparent hatred of him verges on fanaticism.” He raised an eyebrow. “What happened, Vixin?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Vixin looked away and began pacing around the room. “The story has been covered up too well.”

“Speak, Vixin.” Gestarin said softly, walking over and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “After what I have seen today, I doubt that there is any unbelief left in me.”

Vixin took a deep breath and brought his gaze up to meet Gestarin’s. “Highking Yrit grew up as an urchin on the streets of Xexera, begging and stealing to feed himself every day.” Gestarin waited for Vixin to say more, but he only looked away again.

“You are right.” Gestarin sighed. “That is very difficult to believe.” He held up a hand to forestall any protest from Vixin. “But I will hear your tale. Continue.” Vixin nodded and began pacing once more.

“House Xiviir is a house of my own making, your majesty, as I was not born into it.” He began, gesturing mildly. “The name that I was born with was Yrin Xanilar, son of the Harvester King and heir to the throne of Xexera. I was a happy boy, loved by all who met me.

“Then, one day, I awoke to find my father lifting me bodily out of my bed. I kicked and screamed, worried about what I had done, but it was to no avail. He took me and threw me down the steps of the palace, roaring about how wicked an urchin I was to try and impersonate his son. He then took everything I had ever owned, gifts and prized possessions, and broke them before throwing them down the steps after me. All the while, another boy looked out from my own bedroom window and smiled as he watched the scene.” Vixin looked up at Gestarin with madness in his eyes. “That boy’s name was Cobra, but you know him as Yrit Yvilirin.”

Gestarin’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. Vixin continued.

“I took his place on the streets, and I learned to fend for myself. A Bedseller became my surrogate mother, and she took me in. I began to learn the ways of the world at an age where most other children are learning a trade.

“But I built myself up. All throughout the years, I became the best thief the city of Xexera had ever seen. I managed brothels, fenced stolen goods, and stole everything valuable I could get my hands on. Through skill, daring, and a hearty amount of luck, I found myself an opportunity to become a Quasexan Lord. Shedding the name of Cobra, I became Vixin, lord of the House Xiviir and the most enigmatic bachelor Quasexa has ever seen.”

“And that is where you find yourself today.” Gestarin finished for him.

Vixin hesitated, but he nodded. “Yes. I was eventually asked to become a Viceroy, and that is when I travelled to your court.” He held out his hands “That is my tale. And none of it would have ever happened if Yrit Yvilirin hadn’t poisoned my father’s mind.”

“You say you are the son of Xaxin Xanilar.” Gestarin pointed out. “Why, then, are you accused of murdering him? Why would you murder your own father?”

Vixin stood completely still for a moment, then began to tremble. He began to take in quick, deep breaths that morphed into sobs. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I brought him proof that I was his blood.” Vixin managed to choke out through his sobs. “Indisputable evidence that Yrin was really Cobra. And he wouldn’t bloody listen!” He sniffed and wiped his nose in an aristocratic manner. “I tried to make him understand. I begged him to see the truth, to take me back and add everything I had to his own wealth and prosperity. ‘Think of the prestige, father.’ I said. ‘You would be the most powerful man in the world.’

“‘Don’t you dare call me father, vermin.’ He snapped, throwing a dagger at me and barely missing. ‘Leave, before I kill you.’ And so I did.

“But not before I stabbed him in the heart with my new Bloodblade.”

With that, he collapsed into a chair, put his head into his hands, and wept.

Gestarin had no idea what to do or say. He had been presented with an impossible story, something that directly contradicted everything that made sense in the world. On top of that, the story Vixin had told was an admission of guilt to the most atrocious murder Oaiao had ever seen. All duties and responsibilities pointed to his arresting of Vixin and his immediate execution.

And yet, he stayed his hand.

Perhaps it was foolishness. Perhaps it was his own emotions, a consequence of his extremely gut-wrenching conversion to the Diradis. Whatever the case, Gestarin felt nothing but compassion for this broken man, and he could do nothing but think of ways to comfort Vixin.

Maybe that was why Vixin had saved Efstany, despite every shred of evidence that told him to do otherwise.

Before he could think of what to do, a dull whooshing sound came from the window as something flew through it. Gestarin turned around, not knowing what to expect.

Three more Jods stood in the Council chamber, each one holding a man dressed all in black. The men had their throats slit from ear to ear, a gruesome contrast to the pure white armor of the Jods.

“This man spoke the truth, Lord Gestarin.” The one in the middle said gravely. “His story is true, and you would do well to heed it.”

Jiriinii’s eyes sparkled. “Valanal?”

“And I, little one!” A joyful foreign voice boomed. All three of the Jods took off their white helmets. “You would not forget a poor islander when such events are happening so fast?”

“Nyrin, you rascal!” Kiinrin laughed, running forward and catching the other young man in a tight embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“We didn’t have enough time, Kiinrin.” One of the Jods, a woman, said shortly. “We only left when the Void began to grow.”

“Ilyira?” Kiinrin said, somewhat awkwardly. “Is it really you?”

The woman, Ilyira, rolled her eyes. “Of course it is, you idiot. Who else would it be?” And, despite some objection from both Gestarin and Kiinrin, she pulled Kiinrin down and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

“Now now, Kiinrin.” Jiriinii mocked as they broke apart. “You shouldn’t let mother see you doing that.” Kiinrin made no response except to smile dumbly at his sister as he wrapped his arms around Ilyira once more.

“Ah, let him have his fun, little one.” Nyrin laughed, running forward and picking Jiriinii up in his arms. “There is so little time for such things anymore!” He swung her around as she laughed and giggled. The sight was quite surreal with three dead bodies sitting only a few feet away.

The third Jod, more regal and mature than the other two, walked up to Gestarin and laid the corpse down at his feet.

“Forgive me, your majesty, for my interruption.” He apologized with a bow. “But my entourage and I made our way with all haste.”

“You are forgiven, Lord Valanal.” Gestarin laughed, clapping the Seat of Jod on the back. Aia’s Blood, he looked so uncomfortable! “My children are happy because of your entrance, so I have no ill toward you.”

“Good.” Valanal nodded. “Because I bear you ill news.” He nudged the corpse with his foot. “Highking Yrit sent these men to kill you.” He smiled ruefully. “You, your majesty, were almost assassinated. Again.”