FSE

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*****

"It is too early."

A meteorite crashed into the hard, blackened earth not too far from where Harm stood. A lake of fire and lava bubbled around the small island of cracked ground beneath his feet. The air sizzled with the eruption of another volcano and held the foul aroma of sulphur, death and burnt flesh. The wails of a thousand burning souls screamed for release as they desperately reached out of the burning lake and crawled desperately towards the red throne where a titanic figure sat, bound by spiked chains that buried deep into his flesh.

"Are you saying you don't like my company, Adra?" Harm asked, placing a paw cockily on his hip. "And here I was so looking forward to this meeting."

The occupant of the Burning Throne remained unresponsive.

"How have you been?" Harm prompted.

"Spare the pleasantries, Chronos. Why are you here?"

Keeping his gentle smile, Harm said, "Bloodfyre. Tell me about Bloodfyre, Adramalech."

There was a moment of silence. Despite the pain it caused, Adramalech turned his head so that his three eyes could peer up at the black, roiling storm clouds above them. Red lightning danced between each thunderhead. Out of some dark respect, the choking formation of clouds made room for the tormented to spy the enormous dying planet that eclipsed this world's sun. The planet's surface was black and cracked, its dying embers flickering between each fissure on its surface. From time to time, there would be an explosion on its surface and a chunk of its dying flesh would hurtle towards the Burning Throne, catching fire as it entered the atmosphere and crash into the lake of flames around the Throne.

"You wish to know of Bloodfyre? The blade I forged and was used to carve a bloody path throughout all of Incendius?"

"So Apollia didn't make it then?"

"No." Adramalech turned his eyes towards Harm, the vertical eye sitting on his forehead widening slightly as blood dripped from its tear ducts. "It is a blade forged of hatred. You must not wish for such a thing."

Harm rubbed his chin lightly. "I'm not the one that wants it. A Demon Lord by the name of Agares seems to."

"Agares..." The being let out a dark, choking laugh. "I see... If you seek the blade, why come to me? Should you not be chasing down the demon?"

Harm's eyes narrowed and his smile faded slightly. "Trust me, that's what we're aiming for. The Red Crown was stolen not too long ago and according to research based on an old mantra, Red Adamantine seems to be a component for Bloodfyre. It's a thin lead at best but my colleagues seem to think it is worth pursuing."

"You disagree?"

Crossing his arms, he said, "When I visited Lucidity on Haven, I spoke with Ozymandias. He was in the process of creating a statue. A statue that looked like an Avios with four wings and four arms. The figure was holding Bloodfyre."

"It must have been a frightening figure if you come crying to me after seeing it."

"Oh it was. But it was missing a few details." Harm tapped his forehead. "The third eye, for instance." He frowned, glaring at Adramalech. "I'm not one to trust Ozymandias completely but the fact that he sculpted you holding Bloodfyre worries me." He paused, golden eyes peering deep into the bloodied, blue of the figure. "What have you done, Adramalech?"

A dark chuckle came from Avios on the Burning Throne. "You will have to earn that knowledge, Chronos."

Harm's fists tightened and he resisted the urge to draw Timekeeper. "The last time Bloodfyre was brought to this Station, half the world was incinerated and the other half ravaged by war. What could you possibly gain from reforging the blade?"

Another dark chortle, mocking him and at the same time weeping slightly. "You do not understand my guilt. You do not understand this punishment I endure." A ragged breath followed, filled with blood and a faint cough. "My guilt extends merely beyond the creation of that unholy blade. I deserve more beyond what I endure now."

"So what? You're hoping that the devastation Bloodfyre will bring might make you suffer even more? Is that why you aren't telling me about it?"

Adramalech let out a dark laugh. "I wonder. How far are you willing to go for that information?"

Harm held his ground, eyes narrowing and expression darkening. "What do you want, Adramalech?"

The titanic figure leaned back in his throne, old wounds reopening as the spikes of the fiery throne pushed them open. "Listen to my tale. Perhaps if you sit a while and listen, you will realise why I forged that blade and perhaps it will lead you to the answers you seek."

"Fine," Harm responded hotly. "Share your tale."

"Ah but I wish to savour this. How often is it that you are the helpless one? For centuries I have had to endure your blathering and attempts to relieve me of my guilt. Not all want your help, Chronos. I am content in my eternal suffering. I do not wish for release! I wish for more pain!" Adramalech lifted an arm, pointing at accusing finger at Harm. "Now you are under my power and you will sit and listen."

Unable to see any other choice in the matter, Harm crouched on the black, crusted ground, crossed his legs and sat attentively.

Adramalech laughed heartily. "How novel. Have you fallen so far that you would cast aside your pride just for a fragment of information that may or may not be of use to you?"

Harm's smile returned faintly. "On the contrary. I pride myself in my duty to protect Tower Thirteen. That is why I'm sitting here like an obedient dog awaiting his master's pleasure." He paused for a second. "Woof."

There was a moment of silence.

Then...

"Clever. However, your words will not sway me." For emphasis, Adramalech leaned further into the spikes of his throne. "Now... What do you recall of the creation of the Avios?"

"You created them. They were your children."

"Indeed. I forged them based on birds. Birds embodied freedom. They flew wherever they wanted. Nested as they saw fit. Ate whatever they wished and the bold would defecate wherever they so pleased. I wished to bind that. Thus, I created the Avios. I bound a bird's wings and feet, gave them strength and intelligence so that they may look upon their free brethren and feel envy. They would constantly pray to me for the strength of flight and if I so pleased, I would grant them such a gift."

Harm laughed softly.

"What is so humorous, Chronos?"

Wiping a tear away, the Wulfun said, "You talk big, Adra, but I know that isn't why you created the Avios."

"Then enlighten me_, wolf."_

Straightening and bearing a broad grin, Harm said, "You are the Adramalech the Passionate, Apostle of Eternal Flames. You embodied fire itself. Fire consumed all and burns wherever it wants as long as there is fuel and a starter. In a way, birds and fire are the same and you saw that."

Silence.

"I have had enough. Go, Chronos."

Harm snickered. "And here I was enjoying your lies, Adra." He rosed, dusting the seat of his pants of ash. "But you can't hold a lie. Unfortunately for you, you only see fire as something that burns."

"What else does it do? Fire burns. That is the short of it."

The Wulfun turned his back to the mysterious figure, grinning broadly. "How about this? You gave me the conundrum of the truth behind _Bloodfyre'_s creation, I'll give you one as well." He glanced over his shoulder, eyes locking with Adramalech's. "What else does fire do?"

Adramalech surged forward, trying to rise out of his seat but the heavy chains pinned him hard to the Burning Throne. "Do you mock me, Chronos? I am the God of Fire! I know full well what fire does!"

"Apparently you don't." Harm waved his paw over his shoulder. "Fire does more than burn, Adra. Think about it."

The image of the Burning Throne shattered around him, crumbling like broken glass with all the pieces being blown into the wind. Verdant forests and green grass replaced the barren earth. A blue sky washed away the restless clouds and dark eclipse.

Harm breathed the fresh air of Incendius again and reached for Timekeeper which lay embedded in the soil in front of him. He seized its hilt, removing it from the fresh, moist ground of the perfectly circular clearing.

"Fire does not just burn," he whispered to himself with a smile.

The Chronomancer turned around, white scarf billowing out behind him. At the edge of the clearing waited Aria. She held her glorious, white and gold spear and her Valour, Gungnir. As always, she wore the black coat of a Paladin but with the double pauldrons of a Templar. Her white, feathery cloak that signified her as an Angel brushed against the soft grass as she turned with him towards the forest.

"I never took you for the praying type."

"That wasn't a prayer," Harm answered. "Just a little conversation with a friend."

"Should I be worried of your sanity?"

He flashed her a wicked grin. "Aria, I'd be disappointed if you weren't."

*****

After over two weeks of hard riding, the Pyromancer's Tower became visible on the horizon. Nestled on the hills between the lands of the Custodia Lupus and the Custodia Vampiri, it was a tall, leaning spire amongst the flowery fields. Farmlands surrounded it and a small township that provided the Clericus Solis with their much needed nourishment, ensuring the Tower was self-sufficient.

As Harm strode quietly beside the retinue of Custodia Solis that surrounded Raxallian's carriage, he could not help but take in beauty of the lands around him. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. A cow let out a moo not too far away and a few members of the herd wandered over and regarded them with curiosity. One bull poked his head over the fence and flicked his ears at them. Harm gave the big guy a playful pat on the head. The bull licked his paw in appreciation. Far in the distance, farmers gave their horses free reign and let them run around for their morning exercises. Many of them actually padded over to the edge of the fence just to peer at the passing retinue. Birds flew high above in a perfect 'V' formation.

Children from the nearby farm gave out cries of excitement as they jumped on the fence and waved to garner attention. Aria smiled at them returned the wave. Tiny, crystal stars erupted from her fingertips and leapt towards the wide-eyed children. One child, in her eagerness to catch a star tumbled off the fence and crashed to the ground. She instantly began to cry.

Harm rushed over and helped her sit up. Blood was seeping down her face. He quickly ran a thumb over the wound. Time Magic flowed from him to her, reversing the natural flow and closing the gash before more blood could pour out. He then wiped away any blood and gave her a bright smile. She smiled back, laughing in glee as he lifted her off the ground and set her on the face with the rest of her friends.

Aria waved her hands once more and a tiny, crystal bird sprang from her palms. With a life of its own, the little avian jumped off and landed on the girl's shoulder. A peace offering of sorts. Harm plucked a few gold Cogs from his pocket. The odd currency Incendius used always amused him but without any need for it, he threw it at the kids and they immediately gave out cried of glee.

Aria rolled her eyes and they hurried after the rest of the retinue.

"Did you really have to outdo me?" she asked.

"It's a pity when the miracle of life can be outdone by monetary gain, isn't it?" Harm replied slyly.

"You are a cruel, cynical beast."

"So says the angel that caused a poor farmer girl to reach for the stars and only suffer a head injury for it."

She chuckled softly and gently kicked her snow-white stallion, causing it to gallop forward past the retinue. Harm rolled his eyes and closed them a moment later. As with many times before, he imagined the flow of time like a river, letting himself be carried by its currents. Focusing only on his path through the river, he visualised jumping out of the lapping waves and further downstream. That image firmly planted in his mind, he channelled his power through it and brought it into reality.

The moment he opened his eyes, he was several feet ahead of Aria, sitting on a fence swinging his legs mildly and whistling a nameless tune. He flashed her a grin as she came to a halt in front of him. The bright smile on her face outshone the glory of the Sun Spire.

"Never try to outrun a Chronomancer," she laughed. "You know, I believe if history had been written differently, Chronomancers would have made excellent Inquisitors. No one would be able to escape their arm."

Harm leapt off the fence and waved away the comment. "Nah, I don't think so. Chronomancers are inquisitive by nature but what they think laterally. They will always bend the rules, not completely adhere to them."

"Sounds like a particular Wulfun I know so well."

He flashed her a grin and shoved his paws into the pockets of his pants, eyes turning towards the tower in the distance. "Speaking of history, did you know for the first time ever, the Four Draconis Families of Incendius are meeting in Mirecragg?"

Aria gave him a puzzled look. "Truly? A truly momentous occasion then. I never thought the Draconis would trust the Vampiri to host their annual meeting."

"I'd think it's the least they could do after one of their own practically threatened to freeze all of the Vampiri lands. You know the vampires can't stand the cold. I guess it is a time for change, isn't it? IF we have time, we should visit."

She jerked her chin at the Pyromancer's Tower. "Perhaps but we have more pressing matters to attend to." Aria let her stallion trot ahead as he casually strode down the worn path. Regal as ever, she kept her back straight and maintained her poise even as the ground grew rocky.

Before she could get too far, she said, "Can you at tell me why my tax dollars are going to such shoddy roads?" Harm lifted a foot and grimaced as a particularly sharp rock had embedded itself into his sneaker. The magic that sustained him quickly expelled the shard and closed the breach.

"You do not pay tax," came Aria's reply along with a roll of her amethyst eyes. "As a self-sustaining city and one so closely tied to the Church's secrets, trade is kept to a minimum. Only sanctioned traders are allowed in or out of the city."

"That must be a brilliant and sustainable business model."

"Save your cynicism for those that would suffer from it, Harm." She swept a hand in a wide, sweeping gesture. "The people of this township are a product of a careful selection process and guidance. Those skilled in Pyromancy are relocated here to live amongst their kind so they are not shunned by those talented in other skills. Once they come of age, they enter the Tower where they undertake formal training and afterwards, once they are ready, they depart or stay here to guide the next generation."

Crossing his arms behind his head, Harm said, "So basically you're stimulating inbreeding and selective evolution. Just what we need. A bunch of closely-knit, hicks with a penchant for arson."

Despite his insult, she just smiled at him. "You know as well as I that is not the case."

"I just don't see the need for pooling together all the people who show a talent for Fire Magic." Harm gestured at the tower. They stopped at the crest of a hill, awaiting the rest of the retinue to catch up. "Magic isn't to be bound by 'elements' as those fantasy writers in the upper Stations like to claim. Yes, they are bound to manipulating certain aspects of creation but an element is a base not the entirety of a spell. Focusing Fire Magic and constraining it entirely to fire makes those Pyromancers blind to the other combinations fire could possibly have! Fire does more than just burn."

Aria let out a knowing 'ah' and laughed softly, the sound like a thousand birds chirping musically. "I believe this is much of your upbringing as a Chronomancer coming into play, is it not? Chronomancers were challenged with being able to manipulate Time. While powerful, in war they were cast into the supportive role; believed to be weak, frail underdogs that needed protecting and could only heal wounds or debilitate foes without ever truly attacking. Being the proud race they were, they opposed this and created ways to cast offensive Chronomancy spells."

"Chronomancers were able to emulate aspects of nature like fire, electricity and ice," Harm said, gesturing at the Tower. "Pyromancers and indeed the other Clericus have the same potential." He gave Aria a bright smile. "Did you know in the Sunless Lands a Pyromancer actually successful managed to combine the powers of fire and ice together? She calls it 'Bluefire'. It eats away at flesh like fire but when it fades, it freezes. It's utterly amazing."

The Angel leapt off her stallion and guided it by the reigns towards the town. The rest of the retinue had come within a few moments of them "Then let the Tower not cast this illusion of stagnant growth, Harm. The Tower is as much a centre of learning as it is one of research. Most likely, this 'Bluefire' has already been discovered within its walls."

Regarding the tower, the Chronomancer let out a resigned sigh and waved away his argument. "Perhaps you're right. I just have this haunting image in my head that any sort of cloister for wizards and witches is a breeding ground for elitism, resentment, racism and eventually, rebellion." He shuddered slightly. "I hate to think that the Church is brainwashing little children by telling them they're 'special', training them with powers they can't fully understand and separating them from the others who make up the world."

"If we every have a full Pryomancer rebellion, you can rest assured I will bow to your frightening foresight," Aria said curtly. "Now hush, we are approaching the town and I would rather not begin our visit by being chased through the streets by a lynch mob... again."

Harm's ears perked with excitement as his lips peeled back into a mischievous grin. "Awww, but you liked running through a field of flowers while being chased by an angry mob bearing torches and voodoo dolls of us pierced in horrifying yet creative places."

She made no response as they approached the edge of the township. Only a few Custodia Solis were present to greet them and upon seeing Aria's double pauldrons, they snapped to attention and saluted.

"The Apex Clericus Solis is just a few minutes behind us," she said. "Please inform the Headmaster that we he will require an audience at his earliest convenience."

"Yes, ma'am!" came the spirited reply and one of the Solis rushed towards the Tower. Another called a stable boy over to take the reins of Aria's steed while the last offered to guide the duo through to the Tower. Aria declined, insisting she stay until Raxallian arrived but Harm welcomed the chance to explore.

His footfalls left the rugged, muddy roads leaving the town and landed softly on carefully crafted stone pathways. Low walls decorated with the façade of the Sun Goddess Apollia flanked every road, only breaking for stairs into homes and shops. Statues of the winged, angelic Sun Goddess occupied the space between verdant trees, her broad wings spread wide. He paused momentarily as a leaf dropped from a nearby tree and landed on the bridge of his nose.

With a smile, he plucked the intruder by its stem and held it up against the bright, blue sky.

"Fire Oaks," he whispered to himself, watching the Sun Spire's rays glitter off the sharp, angular edges of the flame-shaped leaf. Propped at the right angle, he could see the emerald veins of the leaf pulsating with a soft, eerie light.

"Do you get them in the upper Stations, milord?"

The Solis that acted as his guide smiled at him, his weathered skin bearing the marks of experience. A scar ran from his left cheek down to his jaw and it seemed someone had taken a chip off his right eyebrow, leaving the flesh pink and hairless. Sharp, blue eyes were still filled with mirth despite the slate-grey hair with a few streaks of black around the temples.

"Everything in Haven is crystal," Harm answered, tossing the leaf carelessly over his shoulder. "Even the plants. They feel organic and like plants should feel but they are transparent and glimmer in the light." He took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air of a town so far away from the hustle and bustle of a major city.

"So what do they call this town?" he asked. "Do they name it after the tower?"

"Most people outside the city do," answered the solider, turning towards the Tower. "However, we locals merely call it 'Pyre'."

"Pyre?" he repeated dubiously. "That's almost inviting some demon to come down and burn the place down, stacking your bodies up in piles and dancing to some merry jig as your eyeballs melt in your skulls."

The silence from the Solis made his eyebrows rise.

"I'm not actually in a ghost town where everyone believes they're alive when in reality, they suffered such horrific, violent deaths that only their collective delusion of continued existence gives the place some semblance of normalcy... Am I?"

It was the soldier's turn to give him a puzzled look.

"It happens more often than you think," he said. "But why the look? What's up with this place?"

Shrugging, the soldier strode down the street, beckoning Harm to follow. "Pyre actually began because of the Tower. In reality, the Tower is a crashed ancient battleship."

The Wulfun froze in his steps and peered up at the Pyromancer's Tower and its tilted spire. "Wait... That's an Incendian warship?"

"So it is believed. It is unknown when the ship crashed but legend goes that it is the chariot of the Sun Goddess as she descended upon the world to purge it of darkness. Needless to say, when it hit the ground, it set fire to everything around it." The soldier waved a mailed hand over the landscape and the brick houses. "Centuries ago, this was all burned ash lands."

"Amazing what mortals can achieve."

"Most of it was nature, actually."

Harm swivelled his ears away from the two blue birds singing nearby and towards the Solis. "Come again?"

"Ash makes surprisingly good fertilizer," came the bright answer. "Acres of land were covered in ash but there was life beneath it all. With the right climate and yearly rainfall, the land recovered."

His golden eyes turning towards the Pyromancer's Tower, Harm suspected that the presence of mutated fire-shaped leaves proved there were other factors in the land's recovery. Faith and belief, however, were the strength of the Church and he had no desire to dispel a simple soldier's foundations.

At least not yet.

"And then mortals came and make something of it," he said, eyes turning over his shoulder at the distant farmlands. "Let's hope we don't burn it all down again."

The Solis chuckled softly. "We've come close. Several times." He pointed at the wooden rooves of the buildings. "One would think that in a town run by Pyromancers, everyone would learn not to use wood to build their buildings but it never occurred to us. That is why this town is known as 'pyre'."

"Because it goes up like one?"

"Exactly."

Harm grinned maniacally. "Would you turn away for a second? I have this unbelievably irresistible itch that can only be quenched by watching something go up in flames."

Turning towards him, the Solis lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "You realise as one of the protectors of this town, I cannot simply let you burn it to the ground."

"And as one of the soldiers sworn to the service of the Church, you are bound to obey my orders." Harm inclined his head to the side, a sinister smile crossing his features. "You do know who I am, right?"

The Solis didn't take pains to lower his voice as he said, "Lord Harm Chronos, brother to the Propheticus Primoris and Hero of the Purge of Time. Chronomancer." He nodded lazily. "His Holiness made sure everyone in the garrison was informed of your arrival."

Announcing a guest's presence over his own... It was either a clever political manoeuvre or a sign of Raxallian's meekness and hero worship. A sense of discomfort crawled beneath Harm's fur. He was much more used to wandering into a town without anyone knowing who he was. Some would have an idea but he preferred to be a shadow spoken only through rumours than with certainty.

"I wonder how the rest of your garrison will react to a Chronomancer in their midst."

"I believe the Pyromancers are more interested in your presence, milord. They hope you can solve the conundrum that has been plaguing them since fire was granted to mortal hands."

So more than just the Custodia Solis knew about him. Their Clericus counterparts did too.

"And what conundrum is that?"

"That all fire must go out."

For some reason, Harm found that extremely hilarious and laughed brightly. "Fire doesn't just burn. All fire must go out." He nodded at the soldier. "A friend of mine could really learn something from you. What is your name?"

The Solis saluted proudly and said, "Sanjev Frostclaw, milord."

Harm immediately frowned. 'Frostclaw' sounded like a Custodia Lupus name. Being genetically created to fight the Darkened, the Custodia Lupus had no means of true reproduction except for accepting volunteers from the Stations. The Werewolves of the Sun took men - and only men - of all ages and transformed them in a gruelling ritual that would infuse their bodies with the qualities of a Wulfun. As a result of the transformation and as part of their induction to being a Lupus, the candidates discarded their former names and took up a new one.

Most Lupus names were similar to Frostclaw like 'Icecoat' or 'Sharpears'.

However, it could be mere coincidence. Anyone could change their name should they please.

"You are wondering of my name, milord?" asked Sanjev, a wry smile on his face.

"I'd be lying if I said no." Harm's brow furrowed. "Where did you get the name 'Frostclaw' from?"

Keeping that smile, the Solis said, "It is a long story for another time, milord. If you are interested in it still, why not meet me at the Flickering Flame tavern tonight? Worry not, it is a tavern frequented by other Custodia. You will be safe."

Laughing softly, Harm turned his gaze towards the Tower and shook his head. A line of hooded Clericus Solis marched down the streets, heads bowed in prayer and their hands concealed in the sleeves of their flowing robes. Harm and Sanjev took a step aside to let them pass. "I'm not concerned about my safety. Far from it."

"Ah, I have heard that tone before," Sanjev said with a faint lifting of his eyebrows. "You believe yourself the martyr. You fight and sacrifice, spurning praise and glory because you believe it to be 'for the betterment of all'. In truth, you know little else but sacrifice and to change otherwise strikes fear in our heart."

Harm lifted his own eyebrows and gave the guard a sly smirk. "A Solis who is also a psychologist. How refreshing." He shook his head, his cast towards the distance. "But you have me wrong, Sanjev Frostclaw. A friend of mine with some amount of influence knows something about a disaster to strike the world and yet he is unwilling to tell me. My fear is that he is involved... and I don't look forward to drawing my blade against him."

The Solis lost the confidence in his stance and smile. "I do not think this is for my ears..."

"Sometimes, we hear things that were never meant for us," Harm answered with a dark chuckle. "You've opened the book. Why not read it all the way through? Trust me, I'll censor the explicit parts." He flicked his ears towards the Custodia Solis. "Still up for that drink later?"

The spark of curiosity in Sanjev's eyes was answer enough. "You have piqued my interest, sir. Tonight it is."

Their conversation was cut short when one of the Clericus Solis approached them, head still bowed. "Pardon me, sir," the woman began in a soft, slightly muffled voice. "Are you Lord Harm Chronos?"

Harm nodded in reply. "Yes." He held out his paw. "Pleased to meet you."

The Clericus reached out to take his hand. The bloodied bandages that covered her fingers instantly sent his danger senses into overdrive. He snatched her wrist, twisting it painfully but she didn't even cry out in pain. Her other hand came sliding out of her sleeve, a miniature crossbow attached to the back of her wrist. The device unfurled with a click.

Harm barely had the time to spin away before the bolt shot towards his face. The fletched feathers grazed his cheek as it flew down the road. From the corner of his eye, he saw five other Clericus Solis throw aside their religious garments to reveal bandaged faces and tight-fitting leather armour bristling with extra crossbow bolts, deadly throwing knives and various assassination tools.

"Blind Sisters!" Sanjev hissed, reaching for his sword. Just as the blade left its sheath, several bolts slammed into it, knocking it well out of his hands. He barely had the time to bring up his tower shield to catch the other bolts.

Tearing his gaze from the soldier, Harm spun back towards the assassin that had attempted to strike him. Her automatically-loading wrist-mounted crossbow let out a faint click followed by a loud thwap. Another bolt came shooting towards him. Growling faintly, he seized control of the flow of time, slowing the bolt's momentum. With two bold steps, he seized the bolt from mid-air, spun it in his paw and drove it straight into the Blind Sister's throat. A jugular burst and blood streamed out to bleed into the bandages.

The other Blind Sisters froze for a moment. Somehow, through their bandaged eyes, they could still see the last few twitches of their sister's body as the life bled from the wound in her throat and stained the bandages an ugly crimson. Bystanders paused, children blinked several times in disbelief and a few others desperately scrambled away in fear.

The Caecus Sorores was a force to be feared.

Harm pulled Timekeeper from his pocket and unfurled his golden blade. The sight of it did not faze the assassins. They ignored Sanjev and spun their crossbows straight towards him. The Wulfun ducked and seized the fallen Sister's body, hoisting it in front of him. The limp body shuddered as the bolts slammed into its flesh. Howls of outrage came from the living assassins.

There was a faint whoosh noise that came from Harm's left and he immediately hurled the body in his paws in the direction. One of the remaining assassins appeared beside him through a cloud of smoke but was immediately thrown to the ground by her dead comrade. Harm spun back towards the remaining and saw the flash of metal from the corner of his eye. He instinctively leapt to the right, barely dodging the shortsword that sliced through the air and just brushed against his tail.

Swift as the desert winds that they sought to emulate, the Blind Sister immediately twisted her wrist and brought her blade swinging up towards Harm without wasting a moment. Their swords clashed in mid-flight, sparks flying from the contact. With the Chronomancer slightly off balance, the assassin knew she had the advantage. She hoped to follow up with a decapitating strike but she failed to notice Harm's free paw lashing out and seizing her wrist, pulling her down with him in a tangle of bodies and dust.

Her crossbow came swinging, its curved launcher threatening to poke out Harm's eye. A loud thwap sent another bolt quivering in the dust beside Harm's head. Agile as she was, the assassin was built for speed and not strength, giving Harm a slight advantage. The Wulfun pulled their roll until he was on top of her and immediately let go of her wrist. His fist slammed into her face with the sound of something breaking. Blood began seeping into her bandages and she went limp.

His ears perked and he quickly rolled off the prone assassin, leaping to his feet a short distance away. A stream of bolts came from the remaining four assassin. Their focus was solely on him and they failed to notice Sanjev peering out from behind his shield and shouting a single word in the language of magic, the Illuminus Weizar. A burst of fire crackling with bolts of electricity shot from his palm and hurtled towards the Blind Sisters. The projectile was slow and the assassins easily dodged, never ceasing their barrage of bolts.

Harm dove behind a nearby wooden crate, ducking his head as splinters showered him from the impact of the bolts. He heard one of the Blind Sisters scream and quickly peered around the corner. Sanjev's bolt may have missed initially but the electrical bolts latched onto an assassin quickly and pulled the ball of flame towards her, striking her hard and sending her sprawling and thrashing while engulfed in burning flames.

The remaining Sisters let out another howl of outrage and all began weaving arcane symbols in the air with their hands. In a second, they were gone in a burst of fiery ash. The next moment, they appeared on the rooftops in another puff of smoke, levelling their crossbows. Harm held his breath and imagined himself once more in the flow of time. However, instead of going along with the current, he imagined a dam where he doggedly held the river back. The majority of the river's water poured out through the filters but most was stopped.

Around him and within a mile radius, the world came to a halt. Harm quickly jumped to his feet, dodging the bolts that hovered in the air. He swept past Sanjev in mid-dive and scrambled up a drainage pipe to where one of the Blind Sisters stood, crossbow levelled. He lifted her arm gently, levelling the crossbow towards another of her comrades across the street on another rooftop. For the third standing only a few short feet away, he strode up to her and kicked her off the roof.

Feeling the strain of freezing time, Harm destroyed his magical dam and let events unfold. The first Sister never stopped as her bolt flew out of the crossbow and struck her comrade across the street right in the left eye socket. The poor assassin was dead before she even fell off the roof and landed in a pile of crates. The third screamed as she hit the ground, her body mangled and in odd angles.

"What!?" the first Sister exclaimed, spinning around in time to see Harm smirking at her. "What sorcery is this!?"

"The best kind," Harm answered, immediately leaping forward in time until he was standing right in front of her, nose to nose. "The forbidden kind."

She staggered back and quickly twisted her fingers in arcane patterns. Her form vanished in another fiery explosion of ash and she reappeared on the ground. Harm followed her through time. While her eyes were still on the roof and she was just reforming, he was already beside her, leaning casually on her shoulder and absently examining his claws.

"I always admired the Blind Sisters' method of attack. I believe you call it the 'Art of the Desert Night Winds', right? Sharp, fluid motions that are designed to deal damage and keep your enemies at a range."

Even through the bandaged face, Harm could sense her eyes on him. "You know nothing of our ways," she replied. Lightning fast, she swivelled in place, leaping off the ground while twisting her body towards Harm, her sword arcing out in a wide blow. Harm twisted away from the attack while keeping himself in place. His eyes watched her left hand, however, as it lifted that wrist-mounted crossbow. He eyed the bolt and waited.

A brief moment of surprise hit him when she abruptly twisted her wrist to point downwards, aiming for his foot instead of his face. When the crossbow let out its signature twang-thwap, the Chronomancer leapt high into the air, somersaulting backwards with his legs carefully tucked against his chest. Through the blur of motion, he saw the assassin land on her feet a short distance away and leap towards him, blade ready for a swing at his legs.

He landed a second later and immediately twisted to his right, away from the reach of her blade. Still, he felt the close brush of the blade as it cut through the air next to his left shoulder. The point of the crossbow bolt pressed against his left temple. At the same time, Timekeeper pressed itself against the assassin's neck.

They stood there, at an impasse. Her with her crossbow primed for launch and at point blank range but him with his sword primed to slice her throat. Through the bandages, they stared at one another.

"I don't suppose I've earned your begrudging respect and we can be friends now, right?" Harm asked with a cheeky grin.

"Do not flatter yourself, wolf. You are nothing but a target to the Caecus Sorores."

"And here I thought we were getting along so well." Harm lost the trademark gentle smile he constantly wore. "Question: do you know who I am?"

"A target."

"Right. So here's another question for you: do you think you can pull the trigger to that thing before I can slice your throat?"

"My life is but part of a single collective. A grain of sand in the great desert. Do not think my death will mean anything." She inclined her head slightly, pressing her throat against his blade for emphasis. "Besides, I will have your brains on the floor before you can cut my throat."

Harm smirked. "Oh, I very much doubt that."

A sudden, loud roar came from beside the Blind Sister. They both turned and saw the wall of red steel and bolts come rushing up towards the assassin. Before she could react, that huge slab of metal powered by powerful muscles slammed straight into her. Harm winced and drew back as he saw her body collapse against Sanjev's shield, some of the broken bolts shattering upon impact and digging into her flesh.

She crumpled to the ground, limp and bloodied but still breathing.

Sanjev panted, sweat rolling off his brow and scrapes and wounds appearing through his heavy, metal armour. A particularly bloody gash dripped blood across his chest. There was a brief moment when his eyes seemed to hold a yellowish tiny but those brown eyes flicked away and it was gone.

"Are you alright, milord?" he asked.

Harm dusted himself off theatrically and folded Timekeeper back into his pocket. "I'd say I've had warmer welcomes before but quite frankly, those involved fire. Lots of fire and no one was smiling." He eyed the last assassin and was relieved to see her breathing.

"You realise, of course, this means you are marked," Sanjev laughed bitterly. "Any who escape the blade of the Caecus Sorores will be hunted until the end of their days. Those who kill one of them will pay the price in blood. From what I see, you killed five of them."

His reply was interrupted, a loud, feminine cry came from down the street. A Blind Sister with her face bandages bloodied from a broken nose made to draw her blade but she quickly spun her hands in arcane symbols and was gone in a buff of fiery ash.

"Four," Harm corrected darkly, "I killed four of them."

*****

Harm was far from interested in meeting the Headmaster of the Tower but in some warped way, he was still nobility and it was his social and political obligation to meet with the esteemed Aldair Bal'Morath. Like the stereotypical headmasters from fantasy novels, he was tall, scrawny and sported a long beard. However, he was far from old. His head was full with curly, fiery locks and his beard was like a furry shield that hung from his chin, tumbling over his chest. Harm raised an eyebrow when he saw what appeared to be a crab made out of solidified fire peer at him from those curls before diving back inside.

"I must apologise again for the assassination attempt, my lord Chronos," Aldair said, bowing for the twentieth time since they had entered his office. Books lay everywhere in tall, teetering piles that Harm had to take a step to the side in fear of being crushed under hundred year old tomes. Beside him, Raxallian looked infuriated while Aria was her normal, stoic self.

"As you should be, Aldair," Raxallian snapped. "What would have happened had the Blind Sisters succeeded in assassinating Lord Chronos? What happened to the security of this place? How could the Blind Sisters have slipped through your defences?"

Aldair had no reply to that, his watery, sky blue eyes cast down in shame.

Aria raised her hand. "Perhaps we should not be asking how the Caecus Sorores slipped through our defences and instead ask why they were here. Perhaps their presence hints at how the Red Crown was stolen."

She had echoed Harm's thoughts exactly. "They were disguised as Clericus Solis. It is entirely possible that they snuck into the city and did exactly that."

"That is still no excuse," Raxallian fumed. "Aldair, you and I shall speak of this transgression." His expression softened as he turned towards Harm. "My lord, I shall ensure you shall have every comfort the Tower offers and whatever you desire shall be at your feet a moment after you ask."

That Raxallian was the one offering instead of Aldair spoke volumes. Harm watched the Headmaster for any response but those blue eyes were cast down, out of his view.

Smiling gently, Harm said, "I'd like to interrogate that Blind Sister we captured."

"Do you require an escort?" Aldair asked, lifting his gaze.

"In fact, the Custodia Solis who aided me, Sanjev Frostclaw, I'd like him to be assigned as my personal guard for the duration of our stay."

He felt Aria's gaze on him, sensed the surprise in those amethyst orbs but like all expressions with Aria, it was a brief, fleeting flicker.

"I shall arrange it promptly, milord," Aldair said, bowing one more time. "And again, I apologise."

"Headmaster," Harm said, turning his back and wending through the forest of books, "this is not the first time the Caecus Sorores have been after my head. I wouldn't be surprised if the reason they attacked me was nothing more than a target of convenience."

He left Aria and Raxallian to deal with the businesses of their visit and exited the headmaster's office. The Custodia Solis on either side of the door saluted but he was far too preoccupied to return the sentiment.

Rubbing his chin as he walked, he pondered the presence of the Caecus Sorores. Primarily a guild of female assassins, they could occasionally coaxed to steal targets of great value but as it was against their normal business dealings, only one with a lot of funds would be able to request such services. His suspicions instantly went to Intero but without any evidence, he could hardly go around making such accusations.

He paused a moment and peered at his surroundings.

The Tower of the Pyromancers was strangely dark with the hallways build from futuristic metal on par with the technologies of Haven. Crystal lined the corners and pillars and the doors slid open automatically, run on electrical power that had yet to be truly harnessed on Incendius. Still, with the technological marvel and the presence of light bulbs, the square hallways were predominantly dark. Fiery orbs passed here and there, carried by trainees and full-fledged Clericus Solis alike as a means of maintaining their skills.

With no one to guide him, Harm found himself quickly in the dark. He raised his left paw and focused on the atoms in the air, accelerating their movements. The rapidly moving molecules rubbed against those that remained moving at a normal rate, creating friction and then heat. Within a second, a golden flame erupted from his palm, illuminating his surroundings and granting him light.

Staring at the magical flame tainted by Chronomancy, he could not help but remember the inventor of the technique. With a soft chuckle at the irony of using Chronomancer's Fire in this place, he strode through the dark halls, trying to find his way to the holding cells. Along the way, he passed an enormous, cylindrical chamber. Various elevators and lifts had been installed in what was the true tower of the facility. Light cascaded down from the very top of the tower but barely reached his current floor. Pathways curled around the cylinder's rim leaving the centre just gaping air.

He stepped into one of the elevators with a few other Pyromancers. Each of the Clericus Solis had their own orb of fire to illuminate their paths. One held a book in their free hand, reading as the elevator descended. Another carried a scroll under one arm. The others chatted about mundane events. Exposed gears ground loudly against each other, wooden struts creaking as the machines brought them down several floors. The elevators were clearly out of place.

Harm felt a tap on his shoulder and turned towards a bright-eyed Pyromancer who pointed at the golden flame in his paws.

"How did you achieve that? Did you mix some chemical with the fire to make it that colour?"

"I heard if you added chlorine to fire it turns it green," added another.

Harm smiled and turned away. "It's a special kind of fire. One you wouldn't be interested in."

On cue, the elevator stopped and the Pyromancers hurried out. Harm was left with a few others but as the elevator continued, more and more left until only he remained. The light from the tower's opening faded until it was only a speck far above him. The elevator shuddered and the metal grated doors swung open.

Harm stepped out and strode along the pathway until he found himself at a flight of stairs leading straight down. Custodia Solis met him and immediately demanded for identification. He just held up Timekeeper and they instantly snapped into a salute, muttering, 'milord' under their breath. Several more guard stations requested for his identity but after the fifth, each of the Solis recognised him. Most likely senior members who remembered skirmishes against demonic hordes, rebels or whatever else had plagued Incendius over the decades.

One soldier actually came rushing up to him asking for an autograph. Harm held time for a moment and reached into the man's armour, looking for some form of identification. He found a medallion marking him as a survivor of the Phoenix Uprising. The Wulfun let himself drift off into memory for a moment at that tragic event. Only when he felt the tug of exhaustion did he return the medallion and allow time to resume its flow. He signed the soldier's paper with name, letting the man live in a moment of bliss that the 'great Harm Chronos' knew him by name.

After the tenth guard station, the stairwell finally flattened out and he was greeted by a narrow hallway flanked on either side by barred cells. Prisoners screamed for release, some utterly mad. He strode past them. It sickened him that all of those incarcerated behind bars bore charred, blackened flesh with seething flames licking out from between the cracks. All were in various stages of the degradation. Some had their faces completely covered and when they howled in agony, he could see the flames rising up from deep in their throats. Others reached out for him through the bars, begging for release with only their hands showing the signs of their conditions. All of them, no matter this stage, were dressed in white robes with golden bracers wrapped around their wrists.

"Please!" a woman begged. Half her face was consumed by the disease but the rest of her body would have aroused any ordinary man. "Please... I just need a bit of your Spirit... One fragment is all I ask..."

Harm offered her a sad smile. "You're barking up the wrong tree, lady. I don't have any Spirit to give." He turned away as she screamed in rage and bashed her head against the bars. The others echoed her cries.

He strode through a door at the end of the hallway, shutting the obsidian-like door behind him to block out all the sound. Another pathway of cells met him only these were empty save for one. A grey-haired Custodia Solis stood in front of the cell, back turned to the prisoner.

Sanjev gave Harm a wry smile. "I was wondering what got the Animortus so riled up." As Harm approached, the Solis gave him a lazy salute and said, "You certainly seem to attract trouble wherever you go, don't you, Lord Chronos? An assassination attempt and now the damned seek your blood."

"They're welcome to take as much as they want. I'll just take it back." His golden eyes turned towards the one occupant of the prison block.

Devoid of her bandages, the Blind Sister was a striking figure with the clearest, black eyes Harm had ever seen. Her head had been shaved completely but that did not detract from her femininity. High cheekbones and an angular chin gave her stern features and a small mouth made her look frail but the sinewy muscles beneath her white robe belied her true strength.

"So," Harm began, "I assume she has not said a word?"

"Not at all," Sanjev answered. "Not that I am one to engage in conversation with murderers and assassins."

"Just as well." Harm tucked his paws into his pockets and regarded the woman through the bars. "Let me assure you, I am not here to threaten or coerce you. I don't want anything from you."

She remained silent though there was a spark of relief in her eyes; very faint but it was there.

"I say this because I have a Templar along with me and she used to be an Inquisitor. Better yet, she is an Angel. I'm sure you can see where this is going."

While she remained silent, he could smell her fear. The slight shake in her right arm and the short gaps between her breaths told of the imagery that was forming in her mind.

"I can tell you now, this particular Angel has been around since the Purge of Time. She is very experienced in breaking the minds and discerning the memories of those who would otherwise be unwilling to speak openly about their past."

Harm leaned forward, peering through the bars with his ears swivelling towards the woman. "Whether or not you had anything to do with the theft of the Red Crown is irrelevant. You are a Blind Sister and as such, you have a Cloister nearby where you are staged. When the Templar gets here, she is going to pick your brain apart and whether you like it or not, you will reveal where your Cloister is. Custodia Solis will march through your sisters' doors, shatter every bone in their bodies and burn them all to ash."

He straightened and took a step back. "Don't interpret this as a threat. This is fact." Harm then ran his paw over the lock of the cell. The large, metal slab instantly began to corrode and vanished into a rush of black dust. He pulled open the door much to the surprise of the Blind Sister. "Go."

Sanjev stared at him in stunned silence for a moment and went for his sword. Even the Blind Sister stared for a long moment before she rose and cautiously made for the door. She cast several glances over her shoulder but after a few moments, her bare feet scrambled across the ground to leave the hallway.

"What are you doing!?" Sanjev asked.

Harm grinned manically. "Messing with her." When he heard her push the door open, he instantly froze time for all save himself and Sanjev. "Help me with her."

They caught up with the assassin and on Harm's instruction, they picked her up and took her to the other end of the cell block, towards the door that would lead them to another identical block of the jail. There, Harm positioned her exactly as if she were leaving the adjacent cell block - Block C - and ushered Sanjev back into their current cell block - Block B.

"Now position yourself just as you were before," he said, straightening himself and staring straight ahead at the empty cell. "Ready?"

"I think so..." Sanjev answered warily.

Harm released time from his grip and made a show of turning towards the door to Block C where the assassin emerged from. She naturally paused in surprise and turned her head. Harm instantly froze time again and he repositioned her back to the entrance to Block A. When they returned to the front of her cell, he released time and she was suddenly staring at them again.

In her stunned silence, she once again turned but again, Harm stopped time and repositioned her in front of Block C. When time was released, she charged forward, sweeping past them both while Sanjev tried hard not to laugh. As she reached the door to Block A, Harm again froze time and continued to perpetuate an infinite loop. All the while, he and Sanjev returned to their original positions, seemingly ignoring her. Even when she stopped rushing from one direction and started charging in the other, they continued to keep her trapped in Block B.

Her face grew redder and redder with every moment. Harm gave her credit when she scraped a mark on one of the doors, trying to mark it. He merely created the same mark on the other door, further adding to her confusion and frustration.

She eventually came to a stop in front of him, placing herself back in her cell as she glared at him, ebony eyes fierce with frustration.

"What trickery is this!?" she demanded, his a rough, husky voice with a feminine hint.

"So nice to hear your voice," he replied mockingly. "And I have no idea what you mean."

"You offer freedom in one paw while use the other to trap me," she snarled. "What trick is this?"

"It's called psychological warfare." His smile grew broader. "So I guess we now have a choice for you. Either you deal with the scary Angelic Templar or me."

She took no pains to show her fear when he referred to himself. "You are a monster."

"I've been called worse." He strode into her cell, parking himself on the small wall-mounted cot there. "Are you ready to talk?"

Her jaw twitched but she said nothing, continuing to stare forward at Sanjev with her eyes occasionally flicking towards the doors in a vain attempt to search for some solution to her escape.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I will never tell."

"That's fine, Pradia."

Her eyes instantly flicked towards him and he merely smiled. That fear was back and she had started shaking. Her name was easy enough to discern. Aria had identified it while she had been unconscious.

"Oh I'm sorry," he said. "It's Pardia Narthus, isn't it?"

Her jaw twitched strangely. Slowly, she positioned herself until she stood in front of him. "Am I to expect more rhetorical questions?"

"Are you going to continue to give some yourself?" he countered with an evil glint in his eyes.

She scowled at him sat in front of him, her knees together and her back straight. "We stole the Red Crown."

To that, Harm was a little surprised but maintained his façade of omniscience and merely said, "I know. It must have been rather tempting to have achieved that mission and come after a target like me too, right? I believe I am... what? Seventh on the Caecus Sorores' 'must kill list'?"

Again, she said nothing for a while. "We were contracted by a merchant that lives here."

Harm quickly froze her in time and leapt to his feet. "Quickly, Sanjev, how many merchants do you know live in this city?"

Sanjev blinked several times and shrugged. "Five that I can think of."

"Which one do you think is the one that might hire the Blind Sisters?"

The Custodia Solis bobbed his head from side to side, making a faint wincing sound. "It is a fairly competitive world here in Pyre... The five of them are sanctioned by the Church and are forbidden from trading to the outside world unless given special permission... Any of them would be willing to gain advantage over the other."

"But which one would be eager for the Red Crown?"

Sanjev shook his head for a moment then his eyes widen in surprise and he clicked his fingers. "Wait! Palamdour! The Red Crown is made of Red Adamantine, right? He was accused of possession of the substance not too long ago!"

"That'll have to do."

Harm seated himself in front of Pradia again and released her from time. "Palamdour, right?"

She sucked in some air through her teeth and grimly nodded. He hid his own sigh of relief. "If you know all this, why do you need me?"

"Fun fact," he answered, "I don't. I just enjoy watching you squirm."

Her lips twisted into another scowl. "What do you hope to do with me?"

"I haven't decided yet." He flicked his ears towards her. "How much would it cost to hire you?"

She spun towards him, eyes wide in shock. Even Sanjev showed his surprise which was good for the effect. "Are you mad?"

"Little bit. I was just assaulted by a notorious guild of assassins, after all." He made a broad, sweeping gesture that ended with his paw making an offering towards the assassin. "What better way to protect myself from future assassination attempts than to enlist the aid of said assassin?"

Pradia spat at his feet. "You must believe my honour to be so cheap if you think I would sell myself to your services!"

"The way I figure it," he answered, lowering his paw, "You're dead anyway. You failed to kill me and were captured. Your sisters are going to come after you to shut you up. Either you live and guard me or you die here in this cell."

"I am not afraid of death and you have nothing I want."

Harm quickly froze time for her again and leapt to his feet. He bolted past Sanjev. "Don't move," he instructed and bolted through the cells, ignoring the Animortus and the other guards as rushed back through the Tower. He hoped to the Goddess that Aria was still in a long-winded conversation with the Headmaster and Raxallian.

Luck was on his side as he burst through the door and saw her. Without saying much, he seized her wrist and dragged her back through the hallways.

"Harm! What is the meaning of this!?" she demanded.

"I'm about to enlist the aid of an assassin. I need your help."

"I..." She shook her head as they went down the elevator. "I will not even ask."

"Smart move."

They hurried back through the jail as the exhaustion started to set in. By the time they made it back to the cell, Harm was starting to feel the strain of keeping time frozen for a person for such a long time. Sanjev saluted at Aria and she gave him a dismissive wave.

"Quick," Harm said, "tell me the one thing she wants out of the entire world."

Aria regarded the woman sitting in front of them, staring blankly at a blank cot. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, they were completely purple, glowing brightly without any sclera or pupils. The Angel stood still for a few moments before she took a deep breath and blinked. Her eyes were once again normal.

"Strength and power," she said. "She desires to be powerful. Her childhood was wrought with reminders that she is a woman and, by default and by the standards of her society, weak. She joined the Blind Sisters to become stronger."

Harm mulled the thought briefly before nodding. "Okay. Thanks. Out! Out!" He pushed her towards the door and quickly jumped back to the cot, positioning himself exactly before he paused time. When he heard the door shut signalling Aria's leave, he freed Pradia from his grip of time.

"What if I told you how to obtain immortality?" he asked.

Pradia threw her head back and let out a bitter laugh. "That is impossible."

Harm held out his paw towards Sanjev. "Your sword, please."

"Milord..." began the soldier but Harm insisted and he handed over his blade.

Harm smiled and lifted the blade towards his neck. In one, smooth motion, he sliced his own throat. With surprising control, he kept his golden eyes fixated on a horrified Pradia and an even more shocked Sanjev. They both took a step back away from him when the blood spilled from the deep wound and down his chest... only to stop midway down his abdomen. Like watching a waterfall flow in reverse, the blood seeped back up into his wound, the flesh knitting back together and leaving his snow-white fur as pure as it had been a moment ago. Even the blood on Sanjev's blade slipped back into his veins without pause.

"Are you sure there's nothing I have that you want?" Harm asked.

The Blind Sister was clearly interested and even in her horrified stance, he could see the temptation in her eyes. Her hard set jaw belied her deep deliberation. Slowly, her legs relaxed and she stood with her head bowed.

"How long must I serve you to get this power?"

"Until we find Bloodfyre."

Again, she laughed bitterly. "So I must chase an impossibility to obtain an impossibility."

"Are you sure immortality is impossible?" he asked, lifting the blade again towards his throat. "Do you need another demonstration?"

Pradia shook her head and knelt in front of him again. "No. I would rather die with purpose than die waiting for death." She squared her shoulders and made a strange gesture in the air, twisting her fingers in an intricate pattern before kissing her index and middle finger and pressing them against her heart. "This I swear to you, Harm Chronos: I shall serve you until we find the legendary blade Bloodfyre whereupon you will grant me the secret of immortality."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

"You might want to stay here for a little bit," he said. "I'll find you something more suiting and make sure the higher ups don't order their men to shoot you on sight."

"As you wish," she responded with a nod.

Harm handed the sword back to Sanjev and the strode out of the cell block. Aria was waiting for them, an eyebrow raised. They did not speak until they were at the central tower and the elevators.

"She does not know you are a Chronomancer, does she?" Aria asked.

"No she does not," Harm answered with a smile. "If the Blind Sisters knew, they wouldn't have attacked me head on."

"And the promise of immortality," Sanjev began. "You mean you will Time Lock her?"

"That's what I said."

Aria frowned at him. "And you failed to notify her that Time Locking is not true immortality. You were the one that created techniques that could destroy those who were Time Locked. That is how we won the Purge of Time."

Harm offered her a smile. "Is there truly a problem? If we get an 'immortal' assassin that doesn't know she can be killed, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that it takes twelve Chronomancers to fully Time Lock a person. You are one. How do you hope to Time Lock her?"

"I never said I would. I just said I'd tell her how."

*****

The Sun Spire had long since dimmed to bring night to Incendius but somehow, the Forbidden Gallery in the Pervenire Ignis still had light cascading through the stained glass windows. Harm's eyes trailed the artful designs of Incendian history and couldn't help but smile when he spied the traces of a clock face without any hands hidden amongst the designs. Sometimes, it was just a very small scratch hidden so deep amongst the colourful glass that it wasn't even noticeable. On one particular window, the symbol was engraved into the frame in a recurring pattern. Lumire had commissioned the designs and it was clear he was insistent on marking his brother's achievements during events.

Harm's eyes fell one of the alcoves where the stained glass window showed the fall of a flaming Avios. Brave Custodia Solis scrambled across the ground fighting black-skinned creatures with fire breaking through their flesh. The skies were red with fire. In front of the window were three pedestals, each protected by spells and traps to prevent their theft. One was a helm designed for an Avios' angled features and beak. Another was a shattered chakram with a flaming design and the last was a stone tablet of pure obsidian with arcane writing all over its face.

"We protect our greatest treasures with our most powerful spells and the most ingenious of traps." Headmaster Aldair hobbled over to Harm, a clear limp on his right foot even as he strode forward with a cane. "It is inconceivable that the Red Crown was stolen when it is the most highly guarded artefact we have."

Harm turned his gaze away from the memorabilia of the Phoenix Uprising and down the winding hallway towards the biggest alcove of them all. There, the biggest window showed the rising of the Brave Farmer and his crusade across Incendius to fight the Darkened. There was only a single pedestal there and it lay empty.

"No one can deactivate the traps or the spells, can they?"

"They are permanent spells, milord. Perhaps the traps can be disarmed but the spells are bound to last forever. Many Pyromancers have lost their sanity in service to casting such long-lasting spells."

Harm's eyes turned towards the Headmaster, his smile gone. "Is that why there are so many Animortus down in your dungeon?"

Aldair lifted his crooked nose very slightly. "I did not mean that they let themselves be consumed by the magic. I merely meant to say that they were driven mad by creating spells that would last for eternity without resorting to Chronomancy." He smiled tauntingly at Harm. "I believe that is why so many of us were excited to have you here, milord. I would be very interested to know your perspective on how to keep fire burning."

"Fuel and air," Harm answered shortly, turning his gaze back towards the Phoenix Uprising memorial. "Fire will burn for eternity if you can keep feeding it." For a brief moment, he recalled those exact words echoed by the last member of the Phoenix race. "Why don't you simply euthanize those poor souls trapped down there?" he asked, tearing himself from the memory.

The Headmaster bowed his head sadly. "Milord, you must understand that we view their state as punishment for attempting to overreach their boundaries and for lack of commitment." He straightened as much as his right leg out allow. "When we mortals cast spells, we expend either our Force or Spirit energy. Force is usually expended first but those who are naïve enough to use their Spirit first and are foolish enough to cast a spell far beyond their capacity and attempt to cancel the spell will suffer from magical backlash. If they become an Animortus, it is punishment for their hubris."

Harm inclined his head towards the Headmaster, his ears flicking at the man. "Spirit energy embodies a mortal's mind, heart and soul. I can imagine how a person can attempt to turn those precious qualities into energy and then regret transforming a memory or emotion for a spell. I agree that they were foolish to want it back mid-spell. Their Spirit has already been converted into magical energy, it cannot be turned back. To take that back into themselves it to implant yourself with pure magic."

"And the result is having that void replaced by magical energy associated with the type of magic they were attempting use," Aldair finished. "This degradation seeps through their bodies, weakening their Force energy and turning them into what we call Animortus."

Nodding, the Wulfun turned towards Aldair and gestured at the man's leg. "So what spell did you attempt, Headmaster?"

The man laughed softly and pulled up his robes. A blackened leg, cracked and writhing with flames was revealed. "I attempted to cast the most powerful fire spell there is."

"Nova Supremis."

Aldair leaned back and gazed wistfully at one of the alcoves. "I was young, eager and wanted this position more than anything else in the world. I had hoped to prove myself better than anyone else vying for the position. The Church puts no restrictions on using Spirit energy to fuel your spells but they always warn about 'taking back' the spell. I thought I could handle the responsibility."

The Headmaster shook his head and let his robes hide his shame once more. "I wanted to create the most powerful instance of Nova Supremis in the world and not only that, but one that lasted for eternity."

"You wanted to create a sun."

A nod of confirmation and regret. "Nova Supremis effectively creates a miniature sun through a combination of scientific understanding and magical energies. It is considered the most powerful fire spell in the world because quite frankly, how could you match the ferocity of the sun?" He laughed bitterly and made a sweeping gesture with his free hand before bringing it in front of him to make a crushing gesture. "It creates a sun... and then releases all that energy in an enormous fiery explosion, a miniature supernova." He opened his palm with a sudden movement. "I wanted to stop that process when the sun was created. I wanted to provide a sun to Incendius without having to rely on the Sun Spire."

"A lofty goal. But clearly one you couldn't achieve." Harm crossed his arms, smiling a little sadly. "I assume that's why you wanted to know the secret to making fire burn indefinitely. Perhaps if you could learn that and finally succeed with your experiment, it will justify your existence as an Animortus and perhaps of those also trapped deep within the Tower."

Aldair laughed softly and hobbled towards where the Red Crown should have sat. "They are like me, milord. I am lucky to have only a small fragment of my Spirit taken from me and I was wise enough to only regret a small fragment of it. Those down there gave too much and wanted too much back. Still, they are human... or non-human depending on their species. They are one of us."

Harm followed and peered at the pedestal where the Red Crown stood. "Chronomancers are, in a way, Animortus. They give themselves to the flow of time when they become Time Locked. They become Time embodied but because Time is universal, they maintain a semblance of themselves with only minor alterations to their body." He pointed at his own eyes. "Golden eyes name one. Pyromancy does not permeate everything in existence like Time. You cannot make it burn forever unless you perpetually feed it with something. And one day, you're going to run out of things to burn and will burn something you will regret.

"You'll have to decide one day whether keeping the fire burning is better than being alive."

Aldair frowned deeply and regarded Harm with a frown. "With that in mind, nothing in this world is forever. Not even Chronomancers. Am I correct?"

"Time waits for no man. If you want to keep yourself in the same state forever, you'll get left behind."

"And what of you, milord?"

"That's why I keep myself active," he answered, grinning brightly.

Aldair chuckled mildly and turned back towards the empty pedestal of the Red Crown. "We appreciate your assistance in this matter. The theft of the Red Crown has not yet been advertised to the rest of the world and I would hope to solve the issue before the public knows of it. I hear you have a lead?"

"The merchant Palamdour," Harm answered. "Apparently, the Blind Sisters hired to steal the Red Crown were meant to deliver it to him. I'm suspicious as to why he'd receive the package using his own name or why they'd have it delivered directly. He's either the worst at corporate warfare or just a patsy for someone else."

"Palamdour..." The Headmaster rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He strikes me as a preening peacock and one of the more slimy businessmen in Pyre but I never took him for one who would dare to oppose the Church. Still... I trust your judgment, milord."

He offered Aldair a wry smile. "You trust me with hiring one of the very same assassins who attempted to kill me and participated in stealing the Red Crown?"

"Let us not forget commandeering one of my guards as your personal bodyguard," Aldair answered with his own smile. "And yes, I trust you, milord. I simply ask that you are subtle in your actions. Already the streets are awash with rumours of the Blind Sisters' actions and threat of further attack."

Harm chuckled and turned away from the Forbidden Gallery, his scarf waving behind him alongside his tail. "I make no promises, Headmaster."

He travelled back through the Tower and out into Pyre. The air was crisp and clean with a slight humidity to it that caused his fur to fluff out a little. Smiling, he explored Pyre alone. The streets were quiet and the noises of the domestic lifestyle filled the night air. A husband and wife argued, a mother yelled at her children, fathers laughed loudly with beer in their hands and taverns were alive with activity.

When he came across the Flickering Flame tavern, he recalled Sanjev's standing invitation and stepped through the doors. Just as the soldier had said, the tavern was packed with Custodia Solis off duty hoisting beers into the air or playfully chatting with the busty barmaid who was more than happy to appease them. Sanjev say at the bar, laughing with several friends of his. Harm was going to turn away when the soldier spotted him and shouted for him to come over.

Harm strode through the crowded floor and sat in the empty stool beside the soldier.

"Glad you made it, milord! Can I get you a drink?"

He shook his head and patted his stomach. "Unfortunately, it tends to go right through me. I'm fine thanks."

Sanjev merely grinned and leaned back so that his friends could see Harm. "This is the insane Wulfun I told you about! The man who took down five Blind Sisters by himself."

"You helped."

"Barely," Sanjev said, waving the comment away. "Where did you learn to fight, milord?"

"From life," he answered. "Sticking to a single style of fighting will get you killed. You've got to learn continuously or end up having your style being outclassed by more modern techniques."

"Truer words were never spoken."

One of the other soldiers seized up Harm with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a little... small to be a Wulfun? You look more like a white Vulpunus to me. Sure your muzzle is squarer and broader and your ears are not as big but most Wulfuns I know are built like mountains."

Harm smiled curtly. "True. Wulfuns do tend to be big, muscly and brawny. They're built for power. But me, I prefer to be built for speed and power."

The man sneered at Sanjev and elbowed him lightly. "He couldn't have taken down five Blind Sisters."

"I'm happy to show you exactly how I did so," Harm answered. "How about tomorrow at the training yard? I could always use a good sparring partner." He tapped his temple for emphasis. "You know, keeping with the whole idea of learning continuously."

A cocky smile crossed the soldiers face and he hoisted his mug in agreement.

Sanjev rolled his eyes as the man and his other friends wandered over to where a barmaid was dancing for another group of soldiers. "You will not have trouble with Mardon. He's a brute who likes to swing his club at anything that moves and hopes he hits. He's strong and puts more value in the size of your muscle than how you use it."

"And where do your values lie?"

The soldier took a swing of his beer and shook his head. "Just doesn't have the kick in it..." He gazed at Harm. "I value a man's strength and that is not physical strength. That is their mind, their spirit and their body."

Harm chuckled softly and pointed at the beer. "Not strong enough for you?"

"I've have better."

"Like Lupus Chilled Fire?"

Sanjev's mirth faded and he stared at Harm with wary eyes. "Are you accusing me of something, milord?"

"Maybe this isn't a conversation where someone can hear us?" Harm answered, smiling curtly as he drew a circle in the bar with a claw. "Would you like to talk about this in a more private space?"

Even with his soft tones, those Custodia around him heard and had placed their mugs on the table, trying to appear like they weren't looking. They had stopped talking and the bar fell silent.

"This place is as good as any," Sanjev answered.

Harm laughed softly to himself and leaned against the bar, bending one ear down as he locked gazes with the Solis. "Alright then. I'll just come right out and say it: you're a Custodia Lupus deserter."

For a moment, Sanjev just stared at him.

Then he burst into riotous laughter. The rest of the bar did not share his mirth. Sanjev shook his head, wagging a finger at Harm. "I like you. Straight to the point. You would've made one hell of a Custodia Lupus."

"Unfortunately, I don't qualify on the account of me being thousands of years old, a walking abomination to the Church and partially insane," he answered with a cheeky grin.

The tension in the air suddenly relaxed and everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. All attention was still on Harm, however.

Sanjev leaned against the bar himself and shook his head. "So here we stand, two men who would be hunted should their secrets be made public. Our closest friends know us for who we are but should word get into the public's ears, we are both doomed."

"We're sitting, actually."

Again, Sanjev let out a barking laugh and took a swing of his beer. He let out a soft gasp and shook his head, shouting for another mugful. "You and I are a lot alike, you know."

"We're both traitors in one way, shape or form," confirmed Harm. "Why did you leave the Lupus?"

"Why did you betray the Chronomancers?"

His answer was instantaneous. "Because they were bent on conquest of Tower Thirteen. They were cruel and murderous, trapping innocent civilians in agony for eternity. One of the cruellest of them was Pyrannos Marchfire. He raided this very city and I remember him dousing a man in eternally regenerating gasoline and setting him alight while Time Locking his flesh. The man would burn forever."

"I remember tales of that bastard," Sanjev snarled. "One of the reasons this place is called Pyre. He burned it and apparently, he laughed like a maniac as he did so."

"He wasn't so cheery when I killed him," Harm chuckled. He then nodded at Sanjev. "And your story of the Lupus?"

Sanjev sighed and ducked his head. "It is a noble cause, do not get me wrong. But most of the time, you do nothing but chase bandits or hunt. The last Darkened skirmish occurred hundreds of years ago and to my generation, they are but a legend. No one is sure if they even exist. Most of the time, we sit on our furry asses staring towards the south wondering if this shadow or that was a Darkened or just our imagination. Worse, it's cold!"

The soldier got his beer but scowled when it was lukewarm. "Can I get some ice here?"

Harm laughed softly and pressed a finger against the mug. He slowed the molecules of the brew and the air around it, rapidly cooling the beer. Sanjev took a drink and nodded in appreciation. "The Custodia Lupus were created eons ago to fight the Darkened. The Darkened were feared eons ago. I hate to say it but both are relics of an age that has long since gone."

He stood up and turned his gaze towards the rest of the tavern. Conversation had returned and while the remaining Solis were still wary, they no longer seemed ready to pounce on him with blades drawn.

"I think it's about time the Custodia Lupus stopped being a border guard and more of a civilisation. Unfortunately, Leandros is stuck in his warrior ways and keeps thinking that he has to build his civilisation around war." Harm shook his head and pulled out some golden cogs, placing them on the table. "Thanks for the story, Sanjev. Incidentally, you've been assigned as my personal bodyguard. I'll see you tomorrow."

The Wulfun strode out of the tavern and back into the crisp night air. He instantly felt the flicker of flames around his feet as the Burning Throne called to him.

"Regret and guilt," Adramalech whispered into his ear. "This world is full of it. The Headmaster regrets his foolishness and those trapped beneath the Tower are left with only regret. You saw it in Sanjev too, did you not? He regrets leaving the Lupus_. He still bears his name with pride and would take it back if he could._

"And all of them bear guilt. The Headmaster is guilty of the suffering of those Animortus trapped beneath the tower. Those fools bear the guilt for their crimes and suffer for it. Sanjev is burdened by the guilt of being a traitor to a noble cause and leaving because he was bored_._

"Tell me, Chronos, in a world full of guilt and regret, can you truly stand as the only one who regrets nothing and bear his guilt with pride?"

Harm let out a soft chuckle and gazed at the imprisoned, fiery entity sitting beside him. "Of course I can. Time waits for no man, Adra. If you spend your entire life trapped by a moment in the past, you will be left behind."

The fiery being recoiled at that and faded back into his fiery prison, leaving Harm back in the cool expanse of Pyre. The tavern door sprang open behind him and Sanjev came bursting out.

"Milord, you promised me a tale."

Harm raised an eyebrow at him. "Huh?"

The soldier grinned broadly. "You said you'd tell me what worried you and why you did not fear for your own safety."

Letting out a soft 'ah', Harm said, "It's not much of a story. It just so happens that there is a friend of mine who is burdened by a great amount of guilt. So much so that he refuses to accept anything else or do anything else except wallow in his own self-pity." His gold eyes turned towards where Adramalech had been. "Still, despite it all, he feels that he is not being punished enough. I fear that somewhere through all his suffering... he wants to suffer more..."

"Why would anyone want to do that to themselves?"

"Guilt is a funny thing," Harm answered. "Regret... Well, that's just hilarious." He flashed Sanjev a grin. "Anyway, don't let it bother you. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow."