He never saw me change. My smaller Thifilatha would do just fine for this. Faster than Zellar could see, my arm snaked out and grasped him by the throat. I held back the ability to burn him—I wanted to watch his eyes as he died. Zellar gurgled and struggled in my grip, even as the last Ra'Ak died behind me, some of his chunks pounding me in the back. I barely felt it. Here was the one I wanted. The one Teeg had been sure he'd gotten before. I knew it was Zellar, and he knew that I knew.
"Shall I do this, daughter?" Kifirin had come from somewhere, and he glared at my prisoner, who was still struggling in my hand. I held him tight enough that he couldn't escape, but not so tight that he'd die. At least not yet. The others, their work finished, gathered around us.
"No, Father, I will do this," I said. Zellar whined, poised to beg for mercy when I drew my knife across his throat, relieving him of his head.
"I was asked to deliver this to you, my King." Corolan settled the box on Wylend's desk.
"Do you know what it is?"
"I do."
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"It's better if you discover it for yourself."
Wylend used power to open the box, folding the top and sides down, much as a flower might open to the sun. Inside was the perfectly preserved head of a young man. Stuffed in the mouth was a note. Cautiously Wylend removed the note and opened it to read.
Wylend Giraldus Arden, King of Karathia, I give you the final head of Zellar the warlock, to keep with his first inside your treasury. I hope you find it a comfort as you rule Karathia. I would also like to take this opportunity to renounce the citizenship you gave back to me. I have no further need of it—Reah Desh Nilvas Silver Montegue.
Kifirin sat on the edge of Baetrah, satisfied that few bothered to come to the volcano nowadays unless it was a High Demon, prepared to end his life. Only a few female High Demons remained, and those few were watched carefully, not just by their mates, but by the race as a whole. If those females were lost, there truly would be no future for the race.
He worried, too, about a long-dead race that had somehow resurfaced. The race looked to be subtly influencing events, much as it had in the past before it was destroyed. As it was a dark race, his promise not to interfere hampered him. Rumblings of anomalies in the GodRealm had also come to him, but nothing overt had come to light.
Rumors of an old, outlawed practice had also come to his ears, but he couldn't imagine why any of the powerful might employ a mindcloud. There were other ways to influence things, and if the one or ones placing the mindcloud were too obvious in their efforts, retribution would surely come swiftly. He held not the power to do anything about it, anyway. Kifirin had to shove those thoughts aside and focus on a more pressing issue instead.
A curl of smoke was coaxed away from his nostrils by a gentle surge of heat from the volcano below. He'd made a promise to Jaydevik, to save the High Demon race. At the time, he was depending upon a promise made to him by the one who'd created him in the beginning. Reah represented that promise, and he'd made plans around her after she appeared—plans that included her High Demon mate, Torevik Rath.
Reah's and Tory's relationship had fractured, due to unforeseen influences and events. Kifirin had pushed his rule of noninterference to the limit in the past, and now faced that dilemma again. It would involve isolating Reah, and that would bring her more pain. Kifirin closed his eyes, regretful of the path her life would take.
"I must," he spoke absently to himself. Rising, his shook his Thifilathi and unfurled black wings that might encompass the Dark Realm.
Epilogue
"What might I do about any of this? I have never had direct dealings with any of the created races," Hanlekidus Frebell, a member of the Koh'Ahmari and only lesser in power than the One and the Three, stared at the Shining Messenger before him.
"Then it is time you made your acquaintance. Your help will be required in the future; therefore, I suggest you travel back in time to become familiar with them—dark and light. We have an assignment for you, and we know you may be trusted."
"This is not my desire," Hanlekidus pointed out.
"Yet you will have great reward, should you do as we bid."
"I will do this because you ask, and not for any reward."
"We know this about you. That is why the reward will be great indeed, should you accomplish these things for us."
"Of course, Messenger." Hanlekidus bowed respectfully and disappeared.
The End