Nineve

"Gods, I have stood here on this pedestal and watched as we have torn at one another's throats! Senseless bloodletting, infighting and childish bickering! Would you rather kneel and take your sword into your own chest, or stand and force it through the darkened heart that poisons our veins? This filth is running through our souls and killing us from within- a cancer! A malignancy! And we could very well remove it on our own, of our own damned accord! Oh, but if only we possessed the sense to do just that rather than bow our heads in everlasting stupidity!"

The corridors were quiet at first. Not a sound reached through the expansive halls of the Mayyssus' loft. The world holding its breath in a momentary repose. This silent eternity was just that: a scant second or two of time building up to a release. It unleashed ferociously, screaming with a suddenness- fire tongues rippling up from air, torrents of water, forked spears of lightning, and a confusing array of non-elemental magical eruptions all swirling together as the battle began. The fighting was to be a distraction, to keep She'oth's enemies from looking where they should not. Had the Balt attacked, then Alusan's cell would have been bolstered with excess guards and reinforcements to ensure none of the invaders reached their captive king. A war from within, however? An internal matter, She'oth hoped, would not merit such a reaction.

"I have seen an image before me! In my dreams, in my waking hours- it never ceases to be as clear as the sun hanging over our city on a cloudless day. Three towers. Three glorious constructs of mortal make, fashioned together through blood and sweat and time. The products of untold stretches of history compiling together, building firmer foundations and thicker walls the higher and higher they reach. Propelled up into the very heavens to challenge the bastard gods who forsook us all! Standing fast against assaults of rain, wind and, yes, even against Time: the greatest killer of them all! And! They! Stand!"

A heavy steel portcullis barred the entryway to the prison loft. It had been inscribed with protective charms and wards; even the steel of the grating had been forged with defensive magics in the metal to protect from mystical and physical blows. She'oth reached a hand around and brought out Mölaba from its sheathing, the crystal of the bow whispering with energy- waking at his touch. Static charges filled the air, sending tingling ripples of power up his fingertips and through his arms- his souls were charged by the well within. Haunting blue eyes observed the runic markings, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of these wards. They were extensive, the sorcerers had been thorough when they built this barrier. His lips began to move, muttering softly while raising up his weapon, fingers clasping around an arrow that was not there. Faintly, a form of golden light began to take shape, growing brighter and fuller as he drew back his arm. The air was abuzz with magic, resonating through from the bolt and seeping into the bodies of his followers- even into the walls around them. His voice grew louder and louder, his incantations evolving into bellowed proclamations; echoing from the stone, the bolt of white fire burning hotter and brighter, humming violently. Some of the She'oth-ana were forced to shield their eyes and clench their teeth. The final word crossed his tongue, and he let the bolt fly.

"Before my eyes, I see a dying planet. Captured souls, enslaved under blackened skies and breathing smoke-choked air. And these three towers, which had once been the bastions of civilization, and the hopes of all who had dwelt within and raised them up, have fallen. But not from forces without, but from within! I see them collapsing against one another in a hideous display, their ire alive as they smash together. Three forms, now one, but cascading down into rubble! Dashed apart by hubris, as they fall so does the future they had once held aloft. Now they die! Now we will die! A second road, here, is ahead! Take this path and we will come out stronger, these towers raised higher! If we stand apart then all of us- every last member of the races of Men will perish in flames!"

It exploded against the heavy grating, punching a ragged hole into the bars and scattering shrapnel back along the corridor. Bits of metal buried themselves into cracked and depressed formations forced into the stone. The She'oth-ana rushed ahead, their leader keeping to the center of the group as they made their way within the prison. The guards were not enough to slow them down. What few stood against She'oth and his men were quickly smote, offering no challenge or trial. Coming upon Alusan's cell, She'oth moved to the head of the pack. His image switched in an instant- blinking from one soul to another. His now golden eyes washed over the dead slave, and the impact crater in the wall. Smiling to himself, he blasted open the door and calmly approached the hole leading outside. He peered out at the sea below, chuckling softly, "I'm not sure if he's complicated matters, or made them easier. I'll be damned if this doesn't make our ordeal more interesting, nonetheless." He waved back to his men, "Send out an alert: Alusan's escaped. If he's seen, make no attempt to approach or aid him directly. Help him from afar, but do not let him be recaptured!" His order snapped into a bark as his darker aspect took hold again, blue eyes burning in their sockets- wisps of light trailing as he turned his head.

"I will not stand to see these towers come crashing down. By whatever means necessary, I will ensure their continued existence. The survival of the Mayyssus, the Balt and the Dravasha hinges on this! Stand with me or against me, I do not care either way. At my side, you will rise with the rest of us. Before me.. make no mistake, I will bury you- because I refuse to be buried, myself! And I have a feeling that there are still those elsewhere in this world who share my sentiment."

"We need Alusan Ilossa alive if there is to be any hope of defeating our adversary." His men saluted quickly and took their leave. She'oth Möl turned for one last look out into the water below, "By the wretched gods I hope you survived that jump, you son of a bitch," he murmured.