I hesitate as to how to react. Yngvar does not.

“Absolutely out of the question! Have you lost your mind? Erikur, you better talk some sense into your daughter!”

He then proceeds to swear in Dvergur. Erikur and he get into a screaming match, with the rest of the council complaining in their language as well.

I inspect the rebuked ex-wife. She will not meet my eyes, and wears powerful mental protections under her fancy coat, whose blurring effect I can feel at the edge of my perception. I can still taste her emotions from her rapid breath, and the sweat pearling on her temples. Frantic heartbeats and nervous movement do not betray fear, but eagerness. She wants it. She wants it very much.

“Well?” she finally asks, shivering with nervous energy.

“You are a schemer and a scoundrel, Leikny. I have no reasons to believe that you would not choose dawn as a duelling time to kill me while I sleep.”

“You call me a schemer, but here you are, a stranger in our clans,” she declaims in a louder voice, one designed for an audience.

“You can stop that nonsense right now, child, we have been buttered by much more eloquent politicians than you throughout the years. Your theatrics bore us,” Minttu spits.

The rest of the council backs her with hostile glares and angry mutters. They have seen it all. The stern rebuke takes the wind out of Leikny’s sails, but Minttu is not done.

“You have no standing. The rite of combat was designed when an objective decision based on evidence could not be achieved. It is a last resort, a way to place the ultimate decision in the hands of fate when we admit our failure to discern what is good and what is right. I watched two parents kill each other for the guardianship of their child. You… defiling this sacred and horrific tradition disgusts me. The council’s decision was based on an oath-verified statement. Even your unlikely victory would not change that.”

“Our position has always been that Loth was not a suitable king for the illustrious Skoragg clan,” Leikny’s father interrupts, “my daughter wishes to prove that his decision to cast her out was ruinous and self-destructive. She is worthy to be a queen, and she will prove it by taking down the creature in our midst, one who does not deserve to be here.”

“A waste of time then, Ariane of the something something has no obligation to answer your puerile challenge,” Rolf notes while pouring schnapps from a pitcher.

I want to kill her.

But she is a sneaky little thing and she clearly expects to trap me.

I turn to the father. The council is over, I have no need to keep the gloves on, nor do I have to show respect to the likes of those sniveling, cowardly rats.

I release my aura, making sure that its cold depth conveys my annoyance and patiently reorient my seat to face them, in complete silence. I owe Loth my friendship and the council, my patience. I owe nothing to those two. They are fair game.

Finally, the time has come to make things clear.

“The play is over. You have lost,” I start, ”completely so. The marriage will take place. You will lose your influence over the Skoragg clan, and the enmities your greed created will hound you for the next century. Now you have come here at the eleventh hour with a flimsy excuse for a duel, one that follows rules that you will undoubtedly twist to their very limit because, in the end, you are just dishonorable pricks looking for a way out. I refuse.”

Silence and surprise fill the room, especially coming from the two Isvalir clan members. Perhaps they expected me to be hotheaded?

In fact, I should be. I am surprised by my own reaction. I expected my instincts to push me to answer with arrogance, but they remain silent. The cause, I think, is the fact that the Isvalir are insignificant gnats in the grand scheme of things. Loth is successful, as was my wish. This challenge is merely the desperate yap of those who do not know when they are defeated. They are too far beneath me to cause anger. Of course, I cannot let this offense remain unpunished, but I have many other tools in my arsenal to retaliate. I am not some mindless, prideful idiot to jump head first into the first ambush.

Or at least I try not to be.

Leikny made the mistake of standing and requesting, while I sit and refuse. I am in a position of power. My aura fills the air. It smothers hers in its frigid embrace.

“You refuse to face me? Are you scared?” she tries again. I chuckle, and she shivers once more.

“Your taunts are worthless. What does a queen care that a beggar curses her name in an alley? If you want to play again, you have to put something on the table. Entertain me, little thing. Make it worth my time.”

Only after I am done do I register that Leikny is centuries older than I am. I have grown used to being the eldest among those who walk under the sun. Only the Dvergur can escape that rule.

Oh, and the most aggravating people on the planet, but they do not count since they are technically from another world.

Leikny turns to her father and they talk for a little while. Minttu and Yngvar also formed a huddle with another few elders, possibly discussing a common resolution. I seem to remember that they can veto the duel if they reach a consensus. I look at Ragnar, sitting with an air of utter arrogance, and know that they will fail. He will make sure of it.

Leikny’s proposal comes a few moments later. Her voice drips with fear behind a haughty facade.

“We will meet in glorious combat within the dome of the Ancestors’ Stellar Dome, at six in the evening, which I believe will be late enough for you to catch your beauty sleep? Any weapons and magical devices are allowed save for heavy explosives.”

Aha! All magical devices…

“Should you win, the Isvalir will transfer ownership of the Ice Palace to the Skoragg clan.’

Collective gasp.

“I believe this is proof enough of our commitment.”

“Indeed. I shall first reconvene with my friends as this concerns them,” I reply without missing a beat.

I stand up and walk to Loth and Kari, who are still recovering from Leikny’s outrageous offer, and drag them to an isolated corner of the large room.

I learnt quite a bit.

“Why are they so desperate?” I ask.

“You can tell?” Loth answers, “the Ice Palace is the seat of their power. Their ancestral home! They must be absolutely confident that they can take you down.”

“No,” I answer, “there is more to it.”

“Indeed,” Kari continues, “they did not hesitate, which means that they consider this a minor issue. Even the most rigged duel has several fail conditions, especially when both sides are intent on winning.”

“But… you are implying that…”

“Yes. The Isvalir already forfeited the palace,” she finishes.

Loth shakes his head in amazement. He steals a glance out, still struck with disbelief.

“I find it hard to believe...”

“Perhaps they made a deal that did not account for your return.”

“Perhaps… listen lass, those are all good ideas but we have no way to confirm them. They could be arrogant and absolutely certain of their victory.”

“Not that old snake Erikur. He has ice in his veins,” Kari interrupts

“Fine! We should still refuse. No matter the cause, ye do not want to fight a rat backed into a corner if ye can avoid it.”

“Oh, but I do want to fight her.”

“What?”

Both of my friends look on, nonplussed.

“I want to find out why they want to kill me. And I know how they intend to do it.”

“How then?” Kari asks.

“I can shield against fire and I am not the only master capable of that. My use of magic is no secret. Therefore, there is only one surefire way to kill me, and that would be…”

“Sunlight. Of course. But to recreate sunlight is an impossible feat...” Kari says

“I saw it done once, through a golem.”

“It can be done,” Loth confirms, “although it is both incredibly difficult and prohibitively expensive. You need an amberstone for that, which will be destroyed in the process. Do you believe that this is the case?”

“Most likely. What matters is that they really want me dead, and I would like to find out why. The main question would be, is there gear that can stop sunlight? I am asking you, Loth, as one of the world’s greatest smiths. If you do not know, then I will decline.”

“Do they have any way to kill you besides sunlight?”

“One on one, on open ground and where I have access to all my equipment? It would take another vampire. Or an incredible archmage, which Leikny is not.”

I would feel it in her aura.

“There is something, aye,” Loth immediately replies, “something I have considered for a long time. A mirror armor.”

“A mirror?” I ask with some doubt.

“Yes. You see, vampires have been defeated before by using mirrors to redirect sunlight deep into their lairs. Ergo, mirrors deflect sunlight. I believe that a shield made out of a mirror will efficiently deflect an attack ray. Just have to make sure it’s not too big.”

“How likely is it to work?”

“It will work. We just have to make sure that the thing is thick enough to count as, well, being hidden. Your sensitivity to the light is a capricious thing. This rule works in a strange fashion.”

“How valuable is the Ice Palace anyway?”

“Very, very, very valuable,” Loth grumbles, eyes filled with visions of gold.

“Extremely valuable,” Kari adds. “It sits at the top of precious deposits of magically charged materials, and the glacier around it has taken on interesting properties over the centuries. Even if we displace the Isvalir clan as part of a war, the council could decide to step in to have its treasures shared communally by our race. Through this challenge, the Skoragg clan would become its sole owner peacefully and irrevocably. It would… by Tyr.”

“It would make us the richest clan in the world.”

“Wait, what?” I interrupt, “that easily?”

“You do not understand the ramifications of adding such a treasure trove to our already existing wealth,” Kari states with excitement.

It comforts me that she considers herself a member of the Skoragg clan.

“We would be able to develop that much faster. Ariane, I know you are taking a risk, and so I will tell you now. Loth has been floating ideas concerning our future plans for the clan and our race in general. If you get us that prize, I will wholeheartedly support his idea.”

I turn to Loth, who blushes. I shall never grow tired of the centuries-old bearded muscle-bound colossus acting all bashful.

“Aye, see, we want to leverage our expertise to build a manufacturing empire. We cannot innovate like the mortals do, but we are good at improving on pre-existing concepts. We want to open a Dvergur-led factory in the new world, to get access to more patents and rare talents.”

“If you give us this boon, we will give you an exclusivity contract. We will settle in your lands and pay tribute, against protection. Your land only. For a hundred years,” Kari babbles. She has entered my personal space, and though I do not mind too much, I have a few reserves.

The first is that we have not won the duel yet. In fact, I have not accepted it.

And second, what am I, a supernatural collector? I got pet mages, pet werewolves, a pet vampire in the sense that Melusine is a sort of cat, and now pet Dvergur? I should have picked a land by the ocean so I could get better access to my pet fishmen. I would have built a small city with a sign that says: Ariane’s collection of wondrous creatures, where the food is you! No, seriously.

“Seven point five percent of our income after tax,” Kari says.

By the Watcher, count me in.

“Eight, I abhor decimals.”

“Fine!”

Kari looks away and smiles, eyes lost in balance sheets and cash flows. I turn and take a peek at the Isvalir.

They smile ever so slightly, studiously ignoring us.

They got us and they know it. To lure me, they dangled a prize that could not be ignored, even by one who knows that there is a trap.

“Very well, I will accept their conditions, but we need to check the duelling grounds beforehand for surprises. We also need to dig into why they are so set on killing me.”

Kari crosses her arm as she considers the situation.

“I would not be too worried about the Stellar Dome. They would not dare tamper with it too outrageously, as it is a sacred site to our people. A long time ago, the clans cooperated to create an observatory to map the stars. It has not been used in a long while since the project completed successfully, at least not in its original design. Nowadays, the central circular space serves as a theater or as an arena, depending on the situation.”

“We will still have a look, in case they try anything sneaky. Don’t ye worry lass, if they booby-trapped the building, Yngvar will have their livers for breakfast.”

“So, I agree?”

“Yes, but ask for three weeks so that I have more than enough time to create an armor.”

“Fair enough.”

I return to the council and calmly address them. The Isvalir smile and leave first, with us departing soon afterward. Their trick certainly ruined our mood. The council, however, does not let that affect them too much as beer is brought in casks. As for us, there is much to plan and scheme.

A week later.

I regret everything.

“It will be fine, lass, I promise.”

“You do not know that. Your confidence is born from nothing but STEP AWAY FROM THAT LEVER!”

Loth lifts his arm in surrender, and returns to the center of his workshop. I clonk away in the heavy plate armor specifically designed for me.

Now, I had considered sunlight to be my bane, one that no amount of finagling could ever hope to contravene. We are creatures of the night. We remain hidden. We cannot enter houses without invitation. In a way, all those limitations prevent us from ever truly taking over the world by strength. No matter how unstoppable the lord, there will be a time, every day, where he is as helpless as a babe. No matter how defenseless a mortal is, huddling in their house and praying will deflect all but the most determined of assaults. I always accepted the status quo as set in stone. My sire’s ancient mind has molded his spawn into respecting the ancient laws, and now, I am toeing the line of the most undeniable one there is.

I am to step into sunlight.

Well, to be honest, I am to pass an armored gauntlet through the hole of an isolation booth and into a very meager ray of twilight sun. It does not matter. It is… THE SUN. I am to stay away away away AWAY…

“Ariane.”

“WHAT!”

“If you want to give up…”

“No! No, it’s... fine. I am doing it.”

I carefully place my left hand into the booth. The armor remains unwieldy despite its marvelous engineering. In normal armors, the articulations are thinner in order to conserve mobility, so that even knights could dance or climb ladder with the strength of their arms if they were fit enough. Here, we cannot afford the risk. Loth is confident that a one-centimeter-thick plate will do, and so the gauntlet is the first we test. If it passes muster, all other components will.

“Ready or not, here we go, lass!”

Clonk.

I breathe hard and fast despite not needing the air. I am just… panicking.

Something happens.

I… cannot feel my hand! By the Watcher, I cannot move it at all. I need to… It will hurt any moment now, an excruciating pain that will rob me of my senses because of THE SUN.

Clonk.

I drag my hand back with mighty strength and find… the gauntlet intact.

Sensations return to my hand.

It worked. I am not feeling much better.

The armor is so polished that its unblemished surface reflects its surroundings in a warped portrait, making me frown, because… the armor does not reflect me when I am wearing it. It shows an inverted image of the room, and only the room.

I feel deep unease, not just because the armor itself looks like someone with a twisted mind messed up an illusion, but because it skirts the rules in a way that bothers me on a fundamental level. And yet, I am committed now. I wish to succeed. I wish to cheat fate as I know the Isvalir will attempt the same. I just… wish I had not taken this decision. It goes against every instinct I have. In fact, I have not fought my instincts this much since I almost turned rogue. I find the entire situation disconcerting.

“I can always shoot the woman from afar, you know?” comes a voice from the side.

Sheridan looks on with worry, one side of his moustache twisted by the repetitive application of nervous fingers.

“No! The fight will happen,” I reply.

Nobody answers. I suppose that they want to leave me an exit door. As if I could cut and run now, after publicly accepting the challenge. I can only twist my own nature so far without it snapping back with indomitable revenge. Teasing the limits of my body is a thing. Running with my tail between my legs after a confrontation is another one entirely.

“Alright lass, I will finish adjusting the armor and we can conduct a few more tests, just in case. They cannot use amberstone rays for more than a few seconds in any case, so your suffering will be short.”

“Yes,” I reply bitterly, “one way or another…”

“Stop whining.”

I am about to reply that he should go and stand under the radiance of the purifying orb, but he does it all the time and only gets a light tan. Unfair! Scandalously unfair.

“Alright, we will test the entire armor at once. Give me an hour or so to check if everything works, then we get it over with. Please do tell me if you experience any burning sensation.”

“I am not one of your lady friends!” I spit with bad humor.

Sheridan coughs in his elbow, but Loth remains unfazed.

“You can be a bitch when you are stressed.”

“Hsss!”

In the end, I experience no discomfort besides the oppressive promise of my fiery doom ravaging my psyche until I am a paralyzed wreck, my mind flooded by a numbing fear of THE SUN, THE SUN!

I consider this a win. Given the circumstances.

I promise to myself here and there that I shall never, ever, ever repeat this process after the duel. I can survive sunlight if protected by armor. Good. I cannot move if the rays touch it. The experiment is conclusive. Now let me ouuuut!

With the armor ready in a week, I now have free time to pursue another project: learning why the Isvalir are so hell-bent on taking me. I turn to Kari for this, as she is the one in the ruling couple in charge of the spy network.

“The rats are abandoning ship,” she finally informs me as we take a late afternoon tea together.

“Meaning?”

“The Isvalir are leaving their Nordic strongholds. Some are taking ships owned by an interest group that we cannot identify. And no, before you ask, those are not Rosenthal ships. They belong to a third party. I hired human investigators to dig deeper. Unfortunately, they were disposed of while checking ship records back in Stockholm.”

“Gone without a trace?”

“Yes, and nobody remembers a thing.”

“That… sounds like vampire work.”

“It certainly does…” Kari grumbles above her cup with a glance that says ‘you would know’. Well, yes, I would. I personally send a ‘cease and desist’ letter to the perpetrator’s personal address as a final message, usually. I know that some of my kin prefer to remain mysterious all the way.

“So, the clan has made agreements with shadowy partners and my life is the price?”

“I suspect that the cost might be higher. The Ice Palace is being emptied as we speak, its ancestral treasures transferred to unknown destinations. They never planned on staying, and rightly so. The Skoragg clan as a whole is coming to terms with how much they abused our trust. Our retaliation would have crushed them. In any case, your demise was very likely commandeered by whoever now helps them in their exile. I have no way of learning the identity of your mysterious enemy in the short time we have available, not without sacrificing a number of irreplaceable assets. If you insist…”

“No need. I know exactly how I will find out.”

My confidence surprises the Dvergur princess.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I will extract it from Leikny’s addled mind as I eat her.”

My ghastly smile forces her to shiver.

“Sometimes, you act so human that I forget what you are… and then your words remind me of the truth.”

Yes, that would be our entire identity.

“I have an inkling as to whom it might be. I suppose that we will find out soon enough. Better to make sure that we have covered all our angles,” I continue.

I return to Loth for some minor adjustments, and we soon realize a major problem as I try combat maneuvers.

I cannot use my focus.

Of course, the black gauntlet would cause my hand to roast at the first sign of sunlight. In the end, Loth manages to engrave a few symbols on the inner side of the gauntlet so that I can at least cast shield. This oversight worries me, and I decide to forgo holsters entirely, which only leaves me with a mirror sword that Loth creates at the last minute, just in case. It should not matter too much as the ray may only last for a few seconds.

Now with all tests completed, I can confidently say that I am ready. The armor is reinforced so that even a few light shocks will not damage it. The sword is sharp and deadly. I can stop fire. I can stop sunlight. I can, in theory, block explosives, although I doubt that a squishy mortal would resort to that. I am well-trained and significantly stronger than Leikny. All the angles are covered. And so, with time running out, we leave the Skoragg compound.

The Stellar Dome of the ancestors lies deeper into the vast mountain range of the Scandes. We depart in a caravan to climb our way to the sacred site.

With summer in full swing, nature is out to play. Fields of lush grass and seeding plants alternate with patches of forest, with the white and blue peaks covered in eternal snow always in the background. They form a wall that stretches to the horizon.

On the second day of travel, we come across a nomad village. I exit my sarcophagus to rows of knit tents, as well as men and women wearing blue cylindric hats and fur coats. They part to let me through without a word as I move to find Loth. His aura guides me to the top of the hill where the village is situated, near a small gathering. I find my friend in deep conversation with a bearded man wearing a vest with strange metallic ornaments around the collar and down his chest. How quaint!

“Evening lass, meet mister Luobbal. He is the head of this Sámi gathering. He knows the best path to the Stellar Dome.”

“Should you not know the best path to the Stellar Dome?” I retort.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of him, aye? I don’t know every square inch of Dvergur land. The Sámi live in the area and they know all the right paths. They will guide us there.”

“Fine. Hold on, I should be polite.”

I turn to the old man, whose expression has remained glacial during our exchanges, as well as the rest of the group. I asked Kari to teach me a little bit of Swedish. It is now time to put it to good use!

“Ahem, god kväll mina damer och herrar. Mitt namn är Ariane Nirari, vad trevligt att träffas.”

There, I am properly introduced. I stated my name and told them that I was delighted to meet them. Ariane, queen of diplomacy!

The answer, unfortunately, is not to my satisfaction. The old man turns to his friends and scratches his head, before turning back to me.

“Jeg er ikke så god i norsk. Kan du si det en gang til, saktere?”

Loth laughs. I cannot recognize a single word of what the old man just said.

“Sorry lass, they only speak Norwegian on top of their own tongue…”

All of this for nothing. Pah!

In the end, I do not mix with them as they do not seem all that interested in foreigners. I instead spend some time walking around the surrounding forests in an attempt to dispel my worries. I fed on a volunteer just before we left, and I will remain sated for a few days. We are ready. My intuition does not scream of doom, and yet, I cannot manage to rid myself of the nagging worry.

I am being greedy and overconfident by walking into a trap.

I always promised myself that I would not succumb to overconfidence. I believe that my preparations show that I am not so arrogant as to think myself invincible, and yet I am once again skirting the limits of what I believe in. This entire endeavor puts me in a state of unease. It was a mistake. I will not agree to such terms again, unless I have no choice.

If I live.

No amount of running allows me to relax, and I retreat before dawn to read.

The trip to the Stellar Dome lasts another day, and I exit my sarcophagus in the early afternoon of the duel to a decrepit room held together by crumbling mortar. Sheridan waits by the door, which looks more recent and was reinforced with basic spells. I am already wearing the gambeson I will use under my armor.

“Ah, you’re up. Loth told me to get you to the council room where the old geezers are doing their pow-wow. There will be a ceremony, then we fight. I mean, you fight. I watch.”

I stand up and take a few moments to comb my hair. My luggage was placed in the room, but the armor was not. I follow Sheridan outside and through a dusty alley of aged bricks with no windows. The Stellar Dome compound has not been used in a long time, it seems.

Sheridan wordlessly opens a final door guarded by a pair of armored sentries, and we enter the Dome proper.

My worries fade for a while as I take in the impressive vista before me. The room centers on a circular arena, around which rows of seats have been placed to create an amphitheater. The ceiling is quite high and it is, I realize, natural. Stalactites hang over us like so many swords of Damocles, while a cupola tops the arena proper. Even from here, I can spot intricate star carvings that the passage of time has not ruined yet.

A small assembly has gathered in the middle of the room, in an open space, between rows of seats. They stand in a circle around two carpets covered in gear. I recognize my armor on the right, even now reflecting the viewers on its immaculate surface. On the left is Leikny’s gear, and I admit to being impressed.

Of course, I expected the daughter of the clan head to come clad in layers of ancestral treasures. My anticipation did not do her regalia justice. I can feel the power radiating from here, over the auras of the assembled Dvergur.

I see a conical helmet with a protective visor that will fit her eyes to perfection, a thick breastplate of shimmering metal engraved with countless runes over glittering mail. Light cuisses, greaves, and sabatons complete the custom set. She bears a round shield with a sun symbol on it, one I highly suspect of harboring the foreseen amberstone, and a thin, rapier-like sword shining a dull red in the semi-darkness. Yngvar inspects every piece of gear one by one to make sure that no forbidden explosives have been hidden in their recess. When he is done to his satisfaction, he turns to us.

“Can’t say I approve of this, but you younglings are free to kill each other if it doesn’t condemn the future of the clans. So get to it, I have better things to do.”

The rest of the council grumbles their assent. Loth pulls my gear in my direction and we put it on piece by piece as, on the other side of the room, Leikny does the same.

“We checked the building and the arena. Had the council run some tests. There’s nothing we can see. No traps or anything.”

“Hmmm.”

“I’ll be staying outside, just in case,” Sheridan adds.

“Why, do you anticipate something?” I ask the experienced lawman.

“Nothing specific. Most charlatans and cheats I have handled had something in common though, an accomplice. Better safe than sorry.”

“Fair enough. Just be careful.”

“I am wearing my armor and I’ll take Skjoll to watch my back, if he’s willing.”

“He will be,” Kari says.

It only takes us a few minutes to get prepared, then Leikny and I both walk down to the arena proper.

This one is different from the one I fought in, back in New Orleans. There is no sand on the ground to absorb the blood, for starters. Instead, the ground is naked stone marked by hundreds of years of usage and combat. It is quite dusty, and smells empty and abandoned. This place has not been used in a long time, years at least.

My intuition flares to indicate imminent danger, enough to put me on guard. I am as ready as I am going to be.

Yngvar steps on a podium overlooking the arena. He intones a few angry words in Dvergur, then says something that even I recognize.

“Fight!”

Leikny is already slamming her shield on the ground and I immediately dodge right and away from the spectators. I run perpendicular to her.

Anytime now.

Leikny’s shield shines in radiant orange. I feel my faceplate growing denser as light intensifies. It will be fully opaque when the light becomes strong enough, temporarily blinding me.

A semi-circular shield dome covers her kneeling form.

I expected… more? My intuition still screams of danger.

Leikny smirks, and I hear a dreadful clank.

From above me.

I dodge back and raise my eyes to see a thin blade of light. Fragments of shattered ice rain from the roof.

Oh.

Oh!

No way.

I back up again as the red gash of late afternoon sun slices the arena in two, mostly in front of me. I am separated from the spectators. It slowly widens into a blinding crescent.

They never planned on bringing amberstone, they planned on subjecting me to the real thing.

The Stellar Dome cupola was originally a functional observatory. It can open.

Fully.

Behind Leikny’s smirking figure, the council is in full blown arguments. Ragnar clearly supports this ‘brilliant interpretation of the rules’, while the rest are screaming their heads out. I see Loth running outside, probably to put an end to those shenanigans while Kari added her voice to the quarrel. They will be too late.

The shield is probably quite strong. I have to try to break it. A part of me pushes me to action while the other is the reason for my indecision.

The sun.

The fucking sun.

THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN

No! No, calm down. Try to attack. I can do it.

I move forward at mortal speed, not quite able to control myself properly. My sword smashes into the shield with little effect. Put strength into it, but I cannot. Because of THE SUN! Leikny is still smiling as the crescent turns into an oval that lights the spectators. Every passing moment makes the room clearer, as more debris fall into the arena. I ignore the argument and the woman in front of me and the sun closing in the sun CLOSING IN.

Hit it, just hit it. Bang bang bang. Break the shield. Break the woman. I can live. I can still live.

Years of practice help me dodge reflexively back as an overheated blade almost shaves off parts of the mirror. Leikny is standing now, she walks back into the light. I cannot go there. She is in the light of THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN.

No! No, I just need to… perhaps Loth will help. I cannot do anything if I die, and I will die if the mirror is damaged. Sword in front. Light hand on the grip. Light on my feet. Calm.

More light as a full half of the arena is now basked directly. Leikny is here. She moves forward with the wave. It hurts my mind to look at it. I can no longer see clearly.

The point of her sword shines red and something is sent. I drop to the ground and roll on my side to avoid a superheated missile. Magic. I stand back up. Roll and dodge in the other direction.

I cannot see.

I cannot see the light.

Everything is dark now with my visor fully blocking the view. There is just me, and my panicked breath because I breathe when I am scared, and one thumb of flimsy material between me and fiery death.

Close eyes. They are useless.

Magic in front, flaring. I roll to the side again. Footsteps getting closer. No real sun on me yet. Indirect ray only. Ignore it. Ignore what is outside. There is only me, and her. Sword up.

I hear a whistling sound and swipe a broad arc. I miss. I swipe again and deflect something that hisses and sputters. My sword made an unpleasant sound. I back up slowly, stumble a bit. The armor is getting warmer. Ignore it. I deflect another attack. I can taste the magic in the woman’s gear right in front of me. I can barely use it to deflect the hits, but now it changes. She attacks my mirror sword. She strikes it again and again, but every time I manage to place it back in guard position so that it does not cut through the armor to expose my flesh to it, the thing coming closer with every moment. It carries death. It is here. It is the sun! THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN.

Sword breaks. I clamber back. I hit the wall. I am trapped. Almost here, the SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN.

THE

SUN

Bang!

I hear… something? A discharged firearm. A noise of snapping metal. The roof above me shakes and groans. The two half-spheres close like eyelids over us. Darker. Darker. Darker.

A deafening sound.

D

A

R

K

YESSSSSSS.

I swat Leikny’s blade aside with a hand. My intuition sends me a quick vision, overloaded by my urgency.

A Dvergur looks aghast at the snapped chain disappearing in the opening mechanism, now broken. Someone shot it. The aperture is slamming close.

A vice-like grip on his shoulder. A voice in his ear speaking through gritted teeth, by a man fueled by incandescent anger.

“You done fucked up now,” it whispers in a Texan drawl.

I drop my molten, shattered blade to lean into Leikny’s next attack, one of Nami’s favorite tricks. I punch her in the chest.

The mirror’s surface of my gauntlet cracks under the power I use. She is sent flying, then crashing down on the ground a bit farther. The council is mute.

Slowly, I remove my helmet as Leikny crawls back to her feet. She is no vampire to recover instantly from the most grievous of wounds. She is a warm, fleshy thing, full of spite and secrets. I am going to crack her open.

“That tickled,” I growl.

I have given a rather poor account of myself. Reeling. Flailing. A mess, really. I need to imprint upon the locals that I am not TO BE TRIFLED WITH.

“Hssss.”

The Rose appears in my hand just as Leikny manages to get upright. She casts the shield again. I let her. It shines a bit less now.

I strike and let the teeth on the back of the blade dig into the transparent wall. I could channel the Herald essence. There is no need to use it on such a weakened construct. I pull, and the teeth shred the spell in a bright flash.

The enchantment on top of the round shield flickers. Lekny casts it aside and bellows. The voice is low and powerful as she seems to inflate and occupy more space. Her aura blasts out in furious anger and she charges in.

Pointless. I dodge and strike, dodge and strike. Her blade and fist come nowhere near hitting me while the articulation of her armors are hit again and again.

The first piece of equipment to give up is her right elbow. A thin trail of blood drips on the ground and I can taste the woman’s essence. Just a sip. An appetizer.

Next to break is her right leg at the back of the knee. She stumbles and falls, her rage spent in pointless movements. I accelerate then. The Rose peels her protections off glyph by glyph.

She stumbles and falls.

I approach, and she launches a last, desperate charge. I grab her raised fist and crush it. I hear a sob. A second later, her helmet is torn off. I bite down.

Today is the most beautiful day of my life! I am to become queen of the Skoragg clan, and through our union, usher both our lines into a new era of prosperity. I will be a great queen, I know it.

Loth does not love me, and he makes no secret of it. Our lovemaking is rare and cold. He refuses to grant me the powers I seek in the name of tradition and autonomy. I want more. I need more. If he will not work with me, then perhaps—

I pull back. I do not care about her story. What I need is too subtle to appear in visions.

“You were compensated for killing me.”

“A promise,” she answers in a broken voice, “your death in exchange for better conditions. We would have kept more in our exile.”

“Where are you going?”

“South Africa.”

They are going nowhere close to my lair, therefore, I stop caring.

“Who asked for my death.”

“We do not know for sure.”

I increase the pressure on her weakened essence.

“But I suspect. From the names of the ship come to evacuate us.”

“Tell me.”

“L’amoureux. The Blue Rose. The Saint Louis.”

Something breaks my trance. Her answer is not what I expected. I expected… who? Ah, yes, a certain Dvor lady. Instead, I get Mask.

Someone in Mask wants to kill me.

Hmm.

Later, this is a thing for the calm and refined me to consider. Now, to finish this on a high note.

I ignore the cries and the requests. I believe someone is begging me to spare his daughter? It does not matter. The game was strange and unpleasant, but the conclusion is all the more worthwhile.

Leikny tastes of mountain, ice, and betrayal. She has the sweet accent of despair as she dies.

Delicious. Loth always did have good taste in women.

I stand up and discard the body, then walk out of the amphitheater with a confident step. Sheridan is here. He is armed to the teeth.

“I know that you saved me. Thank you.”

“Any time, Ari, any time.”

The fear of the sun and my predatory response to Leikny finally fade from my mind, and I have only one thought.

I am going to get a Dvergur weapon factory on my land.

This is going to be great.