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Paedrin’s eyes focused, a feeling of intense relief flooding him. “Thank you,” In a world Where you can be anything he whispered. “Thank you, Annon.” Prince Aran released his hold and Paedrin straightened. He turned to the Quiet Kishion and launched at him like a spear shaft. He was free and it gave him energy and a sense of duty he had never felt before. Everything in Kenatos was a great lie. It was time for the truth to be shown. The two were embroiled together. Paedrin observed everyone cluster around Tyrus, who withdrew the cylinder. “Gather round me!” Tyrus barked. “Hold my arm!”

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Prince Aran glanced at both men and then confronted the Kishion as Tyrus hesitated. In a world Where you can be anything Prince Aran blocked the way, standing still as the Kishion advanced. If he defeated the Kishion then Kiranrao would not need the dagger. The two faced off silently, their visages grim. Annon had seen the Kishion up close once before, and the look of determination and murder in his eyes terrified him. He felt the last of the spirits abandon the room, one by one, their power fading as the stench of the smoke filled the air.

“Kill the others!” the Arch-Rike ordered. “They cannot harm you now. Go!”

The Kishion came forward and struck the prince in the stomach. It was a solid blow, enough to drop anyone, but the prince did not flinch. He struck back. Then the two traded rock-hard blows, meant to maim each other. The prince grimaced at the speed of the other man and deflected the next two. He struck the Kishion in the neck. He struck him again, to no effect. It was like striking rock. The Kishion was unstoppable. Several more blows were exchanged. A strike to the Kishion’s abdomen. A blow to his collarbone. He did not even try to defend himself. He let the other hit him, to show him that he could not be harmed.

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yrus’s face went hard with frustration. Would nothing stop the Kishion? What protected him? In a world Where you can be anything Annon’s heart raced with fear. He watched as his uncle, the man he had always believed to be his uncle, handed the Iddawc to Kiranrao.

The look on the Romani’s face. The look of surprise and pleasure. “Arch-Rike! You are mine!” he threatened, rushing across the room, leaving the Kishion unchallenged. Was he trying to draw away the Kishion to protect his master? The Arch-Rike’s expression shifted from fury to terror. He withdrew his cylinder and vanished. Kiranrao laughed in triumph. He looked back at them facing the Kishion, nodded in farewell, and vanished in a puff of inky smoke.

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Annon’s heart was ready to break. There was Hettie, Khiara, Tyrus, and Erasmus left. In a world Where you can be anything Their fighters had all been brought down. He searched his memory. Something to help them. Something that would save them. The quest could not end now, not when it had just begun. Dead before even entering the Scourgelands. His stomach shriveled in fear as the last of the spirits darted away. The fireblood could destroy the soldiers, but not the Kishion. He knew that if they left through Tyrus’s device, then Paedrin, Aransetis, and Nizeera would be killed. They were all needed to survive the Scourgelands. It was an impossible choice to make. Annon did not know what to do. He turned to Tyrus in despair.

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