The megalopolis city of Faifeleth readied for something historic. It came from the culmination of a nefarious incident that took place a mere handful of days prior in the ethereal darkness of Jonjae-Bū. Due to its severity, an immediate military disposition came into effect: Soldiers were no longer allowed to roam without their weapons even when they were not on duty nor were they allowed to revel under the close gazes of their superiors.

Igni's tongue slipped out as he rested within a tree lining the roadside not too far from an execution site. Hands in his sleeves, he distantly watched and listened to the many busybodies who seemed far too gleeful for the occasion in his eyes. His tongue undulated back to hide behind his lips which turned downward in a frown. Despite himself, he wished to be among those people.

Hiding in the shade, however, made for a boring activity. He liked people-watching.

His upper lip twitched, and his forked tongue slithered out once more as he took his hands out of his sleeves. More than ten thousand people must have arrived to watch. He imagined some came from far away, as far as Makïna, a large city located on the other side of the plane near the end of the plane itself. Hushed but active conversation vibrated in the air, on his tongue.

With his eyesight and from his place in a tree canopy, he could see the large, raised stage-like podium where the prisoner had yet to arrive. Behind it, given a perfect view of the stage, dark, intimidating soldiers in red, white, and gold stood at attention surrounding members of the royal families. The Mahilasi themselves stood or sat as they watched and waited.

He softly hummed with idle amusement. There were members from each dynasty present, even the absolute monarchy, the Rākhirahs. One may have been surprised, but he expected the sight of considerably young children in the seats as well. They were mannerly, sitting without squirming or impatience.

Someone offended them, dared to attack them. Successfully. Perhaps as part of their duty, they had to witness the execution.

After a considerable amount of calm, the crowd nearly hushed before the angry murmuring began in growing dissension as the prisoner arrived. The grim procession consisted of the young man, Lanad, who was surrounded by his hooded escorts.

The corners of Igni's mouth twitched up. Lanad walked with his head somewhat leveled and his expression quietly resigned. The crowd exploded with sounds the moment he became visible, hissing and snarling as he made his way toward the stage. Igni could have chuckled at their foolish enthusiasm.

Could have.

But he didn't.

At the stage's center stood a large woman, her musculature of stark muscle and towering height easily giving away her lineage as a Wasihl. She faced the people, her hands crossed at the abdomen, and wore the colors of an executioner: red, dull gold, and black. Unlike the other soldiers, her face and arms were visible, allowing her glowing green eyes to pierce unblinkingly into the crowd and for her birthmark to glare at all who would question her bloodline.

When the procession arrived at the stage's left staircase, the prisoner's escorts at the front moved aside. The young man's shoulders rose and fell. Before he had a chance to move, he was grabbed by his neck and all but dragged onto the stage. He was forced to his knees beside the executioner. It wasn't the Wasihl but another soldier who turned him to face where the rest of the Mahilasi resided before they moved away.

The crowd fell silent.

At the front, having appeared out of thin air, glowering down at the prisoner with terrible vermilion eyes, the Faifethi Empress stood with her hands behind her back. At her sides behind her stood a man and woman dressed in red, black, silver, a touch of tanzanite, and draped in gold uniforms, the High Generals.

All at once, the entire group of over a thousand people lowered to their knees and bowed toward her. Softly, Igni whistled to himself at the sight. From above and afar, their synchronization seemed almost eerie.

"Rise," the Empress intoned, her voice powerful and absolute, carrying across the entire crowd with uncanny ease.

This time, Igni tutted when the people all rose at the same time. They remained still and pin-drop silent, awaiting the judgment.

The Empress slightly lowered her head, her vermilion eyes glowing in the darkness of the plane even in the daylight hours. "For the unspeakable crime of attacking Mahilasi, Lanad Kabuyun-Wasihl, you are sentenced to death by extraction of the spirit." She shook her head. "May Sahī[1] deal you your judgment promptly in Narakel[2]."

The responding snarls and roars of agreement from the crowd were deafening. Igni raised a brow in both amazement and irritation.

Something about hearing the power behind the woman's rich voice nearly made a shiver roll down his spine.

Having one's spirit removed was a wretched fate. Though he had never seen it happen, he knew by heart, as should every denizen of the realm, that a faifethi spirit existed as the essence of their being. Their consciousness.

Execution by its extraction almost made Igni's eating of his prey alive seem merciful.

The same unknown soldier turned Lanad to face the crowd. His short, matted locks, once long and trim, parted from the force, revealing his bruised face and eyes that, while resigned, nonetheless shed tears. He almost immediately looked away, lowering his head.

When the executioner closed her eyes, murmuring a prayer, Lanad slowly turned his eyes to look at the dark heavens past the flying airships overhead.

He seemed to accept his fate.

The tears, regardless, continued to pour.

He leveled his head just as Igni noticed someone.

The figure moved at a speed faster than the average jūryovā, standing before Lanad in the next half-second with both hands firmly gripping a bō staff in the motion to swing. Rapidly extending curved blades seemingly grew from its ends as the green-eyed woman whispered three words:

"I love you."

A thankful expression, tearful but relieved, spread on Lanad's face while Igni's eyes went wide.

Lanad's body shortly fell over, lifeless.

Simultaneously, his head dropped to the ground, eyes closed with a sad smile still on his face.

All went still.

All hushed.

And Igni's lips turned up in a pleased smile.

It seemed no one wished to breathe. Out of reactionary habit, several soldiers had placed their hands on their weapons, but not one of them dared to move any more than that. The hushed crowd simply stared in confused awe at the captain of the 22nd Bracket, Yuayai Wasihl.

The captain moved to face the Empress standing calmly and unmoved before her seat. The sharp vermilion eyes remained impassive, and only the slightest of huffs appeared to emit from her.

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The captain's weapons devolved into a short bō staff. "Justice is served," she announced, her voice carrying just as the empress's had over the quiet crowd.

No one responded at first. The captain did not move until the Empress gave a single nod. Following the nod, she disappeared along with the High Generals. Shortly after her, one by one, members of the Mahilasi left with their guards. Their expressions were less reserved than their empress', appearing judgmental and irate.

The captain turned to look at the executioner. The other woman stood several measures away, as she had moved in time to miss the swing of the captain's glaive. From her, the captain turned to address two soldiers who came up to retrieve the beheaded body.

"Treat his body with care," she ordered them. She spoke at normal volume, but the power in her voice reached Igni's ears. "He is a member of my dynasty."

Both soldiers lowered to one knee and bowed their heads at her. "Understood, Kifu-nu[3]!"

She didn't wait for them to stand, turning and stepping down from the podium. Paces behind her, the soldiers carried the body and cloth-covered head atop a stretcher. She didn't look back, didn't waver in her steps, her coat audibly fluttering behind her in the silence.

Only then did the crowd come to life. While their individual murmuring sounded no more than a whisper, collectively, it created a wave of indistinguishable, hushed sound while eyes watched her and the soldiers walk in the direction of the Sūn Palace. Several judicial soldiers shortly appeared to usher the people away.

The execution was over.

Igni watched after the 22nd Bracket captain, his tongue flickering out. A thick haze of disappointment hung about the mass of people. With a hum of disinterest, he lowered from the tree and disappeared from immediate view to reappear on the ground in the woods.

While traveling through the vegetation parallel to the streets, he sensed someone following him. He soon came to a dead halt within the small wooded area not far from the main road.

He came to such an abrupt stop that the person smacked into him and fell to the ground.

He eyed the sprawled, groaning form of a young man with long brown hair likewise splayed on the grass beneath him. "What's goin' on, Taquir?"

"How the fuck're you so thin yet so friggin'..." The man rubbed his face, then looked up at him while leaning on his hands. "Um...."

Igni slipped his arms into his sleeves and cocked up a silver-white brow.

"R-right." Taquir scurried to his feet and looked up at him, pulling a scroll halfway out of his coat. "I got a message from the Bat. Latest plans and all that."

Igni nodded while watching Taquir hide the scroll, then turned around. "An' where's the Tarantula?"

"Uh, he went home, I hope." Taquir looked in the direction of the execution grounds. "So, ah...No one was growling and carrying on like I thought they would. Granted, I didn't see it, but did something else happen?"

"Hm, it didn't happen."

"Huh?"

"Nothin'. Tell ya later." Igni walked further into the woods. "Time t'go home."

His companion went silent after a soft sound of understanding.

As he walked, he pushed the air, creating what almost appeared to be a portal in front of them before it disappeared to show their new surroundings. A massive grey, lightly ruined brick castle that stood in a dead, reddish-pink landscape loomed ahead.

Taquir sighed, taking the scroll out of his shirt. "Ah, I'm hungry. Lunch should be soon, I think..."

He passed the scroll to Igni who took it and slipped it into his sleeves along with his hands. He entered the castle's open oval threshold into a large, pristine foyer decorated with a mix of cultures. The golden and green architecture made the entire space seem lavish, built for welcoming dignitaries. He hummed to himself as he watched Taquir walk ahead, then glimpsed at a small group of individuals just as they took notice of him.

Gasps of surprise and delight came from the seven children, and they immediately began a chant as they ran up to him.

"Iggy, Iggy, Iggy!" they said, bringing a wider, amused smile to his lips.

He crouched low as they surrounded him. "How're y'all doin'? I ain't been gone that long," he chuckled softly.

A young girl with green blotches on her fair skin pouted at him, as did several of the other children. "Aw, but you've been gone for days!" she said, tugging on one of his long sleeves.

"Did you bring any treats?" asked another girl, her bright orange-red eyes sparkling. He hummed playfully, making her jump up and down. "You did!?"

From out of his sleeve, he revealed a small paper bag tied with blue bows. "Aye, I got some."

Immediately, cupped hands reached out to him, their owners looking into his unseen gaze with large eyes and bouncing on their toes in barely repressed anticipation.

His grin widened, and he reached into his sleeve again to bring out exactly six more bags. "Sona Noyv-Rok[4], yeah?"

Their collective gasps and cries of happiness as he handed them their bags brought him a sense of satisfaction. He then stood and turned away from them to follow after Taquir. Their calls of thanks to him prompted him to give a lazy wave back.

From the main hall, he entered the old throne room of the castle, now dubbed the Centerspace. It was a relatively open area with an obscenely high ceiling covered in rugs and plush where people could relax, and they even had small gatherings in it now and then to eat and socialize. The walls were slightly less decorated than the foyer, giving it a more welcoming atmosphere.

People lightly occupied the Centerspace, some of which were snacking on finger foods as they chatted with one another. At the back of the Centerspace, a man sat on an elevated seat while reading a thick book. Once close enough, Igni took in his leader's form, draped in shades of grey attire and his long reddish-brown hair loose over his shoulders. Tongue flicking out, Igni sensed great interest. Whatever his boss was reading, it had all of his attention.

Upon approaching, he took a look at the book's cover. Most Gardosi books bore elaborate covers, unlike the ones written by Faifethi and Indrahti. This book was embellished with a decorative wolf on its cover, bringing a silver-white brow up.

That ain't Boss' spirit...

"Boss, it's done," he called, waving the scroll.

Grey eyes slightly hardened, then lowered from the book before it followed onto the floor. Setting it aside, his leader nodded.

Humming, Igni observed the contemplative look on the older man's face with a tilt of his head. "Don't worry, Boss. He ain't suffered none. Made sure o' that an' then some."

"What happened?" The grey eyes looked up at him.

Igni passed the scroll to him, but the man placed it aside with the book. "The Hammerhead killed 'im instead."

"Ah...a mercy kill. A mother's final act of love..."

Humming without interest, Igni opted to shrug. "Guess so." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his leader stare off as if in thought. "Regret anythin'?"

"Perhaps," came the honest reply. "He was...very young."

Once more, Igni shrugged. "Yeah." He turned to leave. "It happens."

"Wait, Igni." He glanced back to see a sly look on his leader's face. "I recall it's your birthday. How old are you, now? 208?"

Brow rising, Igni hummed, "Somethin' thereabouts." When the smile widened, he internally sighed. "What'd ya want me t'do?" he asked, resignation ripe in his tone.

"Rest." His leader motioned to his face. "I can see your scales."

His upper lip twitched. "S'gonna take three days t'molt."

"Precisely. Take a three-day's rest."

He sighed dramatically. "Aye...M'kinda tired."

"Good. I will see you in three days."

He turned and shortly left the Centerspace. The smells of cooked food for lunch became more apparent the closer he came to the kitchens. His nostrils twitched, and once the scents registered to his senses, his upper lip curled as he felt sick. He swiftly moved through to the nearest staircase leading to the second floor.

He soon inhaled the clearer air with relief, letting his tongue flick out. It was even more silent on the second floor than the lower one. He looked down off the rail to see the antechamber for a moment, then focused forward, scanning the floor with his senses. There were only a few people there, none worthy of his attention. He walked down a wide hall until he came to an open, circular doorway of an area bare of anything except a few red cushions and colorful rugs on the floor.

Once he entered, it was almost perfectly silent. All he heard with his senses was the distant sound of falling water.

A small, contented smile formed on his face. He neared a simple, plain gold and brown door lacking a doorknob at his upper right. As he approached, it opened.

Darkness greeted him from within a room. He entered, and a strong, familiar scent permeated his nostrils. The door closed behind him after he stepped inside, locking him in blackness.

Once more, he scanned his surroundings. After a moment, he let out a long, drawn-out exhale while removing his blindfold. He could see clearly in the darkness, and he spotted his constant companions in seconds.

Several snakes of varying sizes and types slithered or laid still around the room. He was a painfully modest minimalist, and his room reflected this by sheltering nothing more than a single pallet on the floor and a low, wide dresser with three drawers. Only his floor-leveled bed was bare of anything foreign. Everything was mostly ridden with a peculiar moss, from the walls to the dresser itself.

He slowly approached and moved to lie on his bed. The cushioning was soft and smelt like fresh linen mixed with the comforting scents of his snakes. He deeply inhaled, then looked at his arm. It was normally hidden by his wide sleeves, but he knew it was happening. His skin was slightly crinkly and paler than normal, and he peeled it off.

His lips tightened. "Happy birthday, eh," he murmured.

He made himself comfortable and put the old skin beside his bed for the moment. He could gather and discard it later.

He laid down with a soft exhale and closed his eyes.

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[1] The High Generals, the second-highest in the military before the Tenk'ha, the sovereign.

[2] The Rejisea afterlife. Works similarly to Hades in Greek mythology.

[3] Address for royal members of the dynasties, femme-aligned.

[4] Gardosi for "Happy New Year".