a feverish babble. "I took away my children, took them away from here so that they wouldn't be hurt anymore. I couldn't tell Alina, couldn't tell her what had happened… I just wanted us to be together again…"
My chest felt as though it were being squeezed by a vise. "Ramun… they're dead," I whispered. "You killed them."
His head canted to the side, the motion too deep, his neck twisting too far. His voice echoed strangely, high-pitched and distant. "How can they be dead? They're standing right beside me."
I closed my eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. The smell of death and decay filled my nostrils, and I wanted to retch.
"All I want is my revenge," Ramun said. "That's all I want. Then we will go away, and we will be a family again."
The brilliant red eyes of Alina's corpse bore into me, and the prickling pain spread down my neck and the backs of my arms. The gaze of the children was blank, lifeless, but there still seemed to be something, some intelligence left behind Alina's eyes. Ramun continued on, babbling incoherently now, something about family and happiness, but I wasn't listening. All I could see was the eyes that had once been blue, the woman that had such a short time ago pleaded for my help, and the gaping wound in her chest… the wound inflicted by the man who loved her enough to kill for her. To kill her .
"I'm sorry, Ramun," I whispered at last. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you."
"Then you'll help me?" he asked, his voice taking on just the barest hint of desperation.
Legend said that nearly four thousand years past, the Arbiters had left their home in the Old Kingdoms to rot and ruin and had moved east, building their Tower in a place far away from the machinations and politics of the squabbling monarchs. I had read texts which spoke of their reason for such a drastic move: they left because the Old Kingdoms continually called on them to solve the problems of men. The Arbiter's calling was to destroy and disperse corruption where it had collected, but they had no business in the petty evils that lurked in the hearts of men.
In that moment, I understood why they had gone.
Unfortunately, it was too late for me. I had already meddled, and now I needed to set it right, the best way I could.
"No, Ramun," I said. "I can't help you."
"Then you will die like the rest!" he snarled, and suddenly, the Reaper rematerialized before me.
The winds of sorcery buffeted me as he hurled a vicious bolt of energy toward me. My heart ached with sorrow and anguish as I turned it aside with a single word, deflecting it and sending it to explode against the ground a few feet away.
Then, I began my incantation.
The Reaper howled in agony and rage. The children looked on with dead eyes as my intoned words did precisely what I had designed them to do. Wind screamed around us, and Ramun threw everything he had at me, but he was an amateur. I didn't know where he had gained his power, but he was no expert practitioner. He had never spent long nights understanding precisely how much manna could be used, how it could be plied to achieve exactly the right result without damaging oneself or the subject.
He had not spent a lifetime learning, like I had.
My spell stripped away every layer of defense he had. First the terror glamour dispersed to the winds, and then I countered as he tried to bring it back to life. Then I destroyed the illusion of the Reaper itself, and its crimson eyes guttered out like candles in a harsh wind.
Next I dampened all other power save for my own, and though he tried to conjure a wave of fire to burn me alive, all he got was the flickering flame of a torch.
Ramun shrieked and screamed epithets at me, all while I systematically took away every ounce of power he had built up around himself. He was reacting purely on instinct now, throwing random effects and attacks at me, but none of them connected. My wards were too strong, my spell was too tightly woven to allow
My chest felt as though it were being squeezed by a vise. "Ramun… they're dead," I whispered. "You killed them."
His head canted to the side, the motion too deep, his neck twisting too far. His voice echoed strangely, high-pitched and distant. "How can they be dead? They're standing right beside me."
I closed my eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. The smell of death and decay filled my nostrils, and I wanted to retch.
"All I want is my revenge," Ramun said. "That's all I want. Then we will go away, and we will be a family again."
The brilliant red eyes of Alina's corpse bore into me, and the prickling pain spread down my neck and the backs of my arms. The gaze of the children was blank, lifeless, but there still seemed to be something, some intelligence left behind Alina's eyes. Ramun continued on, babbling incoherently now, something about family and happiness, but I wasn't listening. All I could see was the eyes that had once been blue, the woman that had such a short time ago pleaded for my help, and the gaping wound in her chest… the wound inflicted by the man who loved her enough to kill for her. To kill her .
"I'm sorry, Ramun," I whispered at last. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you."
"Then you'll help me?" he asked, his voice taking on just the barest hint of desperation.
Legend said that nearly four thousand years past, the Arbiters had left their home in the Old Kingdoms to rot and ruin and had moved east, building their Tower in a place far away from the machinations and politics of the squabbling monarchs. I had read texts which spoke of their reason for such a drastic move: they left because the Old Kingdoms continually called on them to solve the problems of men. The Arbiter's calling was to destroy and disperse corruption where it had collected, but they had no business in the petty evils that lurked in the hearts of men.
In that moment, I understood why they had gone.
Unfortunately, it was too late for me. I had already meddled, and now I needed to set it right, the best way I could.
"No, Ramun," I said. "I can't help you."
"Then you will die like the rest!" he snarled, and suddenly, the Reaper rematerialized before me.
The winds of sorcery buffeted me as he hurled a vicious bolt of energy toward me. My heart ached with sorrow and anguish as I turned it aside with a single word, deflecting it and sending it to explode against the ground a few feet away.
Then, I began my incantation.
The Reaper howled in agony and rage. The children looked on with dead eyes as my intoned words did precisely what I had designed them to do. Wind screamed around us, and Ramun threw everything he had at me, but he was an amateur. I didn't know where he had gained his power, but he was no expert practitioner. He had never spent long nights understanding precisely how much manna could be used, how it could be plied to achieve exactly the right result without damaging oneself or the subject.
He had not spent a lifetime learning, like I had.
My spell stripped away every layer of defense he had. First the terror glamour dispersed to the winds, and then I countered as he tried to bring it back to life. Then I destroyed the illusion of the Reaper itself, and its crimson eyes guttered out like candles in a harsh wind.
Next I dampened all other power save for my own, and though he tried to conjure a wave of fire to burn me alive, all he got was the flickering flame of a torch.
Ramun shrieked and screamed epithets at me, all while I systematically took away every ounce of power he had built up around himself. He was reacting purely on instinct now, throwing random effects and attacks at me, but none of them connected. My wards were too strong, my spell was too tightly woven to allow
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