Shadow Bands

I. Path of Totality

Ash choked the air, flying high with the specific, malignant purpose of the wind. A chaotic symphony of death—the deafening crackling of wood—roared through the once-stately manor. Hiding deep within a cramped service passage, a man watched the execution of his family. The leader of House Aurur was already dead, his severed head paraded through the crumbling inferno. Their killer watched, his cruel grin a grotesque shadow against the consuming flames, completely impervious to the desperate, dying pleas of the House.

Seizing the desperate opportunity to live, the man smashed the nearest window, glass shards slicing his burning skin. He hit the ground running. Despite the smoke and ash scarring his lungs, he ran until the black cloud of the fire was behind him and the sky above was the Underworld's eternal, indifferent red. It was a crime done in broad daylight for all the great Houses to see, and yet no one came to help.

He stopped short, sliding on the dusty trail, his breath ragged. The wave of grief washing over him was swiftly overtaken by a tidal surge of pure, desperate anger. His feet were raw, his legs screaming, but the thought of revenge and justice fueled every stride toward Nasherux, the capital that laid deep in the realm's heart.

On the city outskirts, he was a ghost. He snatched a dark cloak from a merchant's cart, throwing it over his mud-caked armor, needing anonymity more than air. Shoving disgusted citizens out of his path, he hurried through the maze of convoys and panicked crowds. He ran until the array of large buildings finally coalesced into one distinct structure: the Council's half-pyramid, a colossal testament to power with its central portion cut out and supported by thick pillars. He focused on it, the ache in his heart easing the physical pain of his legs. Tripping on a loose paver as he ran, he slammed into the wet mud. He rose instantly, ignoring the embarrassment and the stares, focused only on the final destination.

He took the massive stone stairs two at a time, skipping steps. As he crested the flight, two Guards—their armor covered by dark blue cloaks, their faces concealed by white, blank helmets—lowered their massive halberds. They wouldn't yield. He charged anyway, swiftly disarming the first guard with a violent shoulder check, and drove the blunt end of the weapon into the second guard's chest plate, knocking him aside. It bought him ten seconds. He burst through the ornate double doors and skidded to a stop in the main hall.

The chamber was an illusion of peace. High above, the massive stained-glass windows absorbed the violent red sky and transformed it into a soft, ethereal white light. Pillars of red-veined marble rose like massive, frozen columns to the high ceiling, supporting heavy garlands of black and red flowers—a beautiful, disturbing symbol of the death that defined their world.

He ignored the momentary disgust or disinterest of the uniformed people in the hall, rushing toward the receptionist's long, polished desk.

"Where is the Council room?" he demanded, his voice thick with haste and smoke.

The receptionist, clearly shocked by his dirty, armored appearance, stammered, "I don't understand, sir. Do you have—?"

"Just tell me!" he roared, seeing the guards mobilizing in the hall behind him.

She jumped, pointing down the right corridor. "Down that way. The enormous doors to your right. A verdict is in progress—please, I wouldn't disturb them."

He stormed down the hall, his eyes catching the chilling silhouette of the blue-cloaked guards closing in from both directions. Seconds were all he had for his plea. He slammed through the final set of doors and heard the Council's booming voices making a final, grave verdict. Their voices stopped dead as he presented himself.

"Please!" he begged, stumbling toward the center of the vast, sand-ringed room. "Hear my plea. A great crime and evil have been conducted! My House has fallen, and I seek justice against those who hunt me down."

The Council mumbled among themselves, their forms hidden deep in the shadows of the high pillars.

"House Aurur has fallen due to their weakness and incompetence!" a voice thundered from the darkness, echoing and distorting across the cavernous space.

"To serve," the sibilants of another voice rang out, cold and alien, "the Grand Prexxy and all of her interests do not concern themselves with the weak!"

"This was no battle!" the man screamed, his voice cracking. "This was just an act of power!"

"Enough!" a voice bellowed, the sound so dominant the floor seemed to vibrate.

The silence that fell was thick, heavy, and absolute. The Council member walked out of the shadows. He was a bull-like humanoid with great, curving horns, piercing yellow eyes, and ears adorned with golden rings.

"The Council has spoken, and the Senate is soon to follow," he announced, walking toward the man. "You will die alongside those weaklings."

Guards poured in from the door he'd entered, weapons pointed.

"No!" the man screamed, frantic. "This isn't fair!"

The bull-like figure stopped directly in front of him, the radiant light of the high ceiling catching the piercing yellow of his eyes.

"Fair is a law the strong get to uphold."