Astar [https://shadowsprey.com/wp-content/uploads/story-images/01_30_asheader.png]

The morning of the Gala dawned hot and vicious. Astar felt the sweat hit her back before the sun even broke, red then white and sharp. Despite the heat, people had been packing into the Theatre since dawn, wanting to get the best view of the promised action.

Attending the Theatre’s plays had always been something that was expected of her as the Governor’s daughter. She sat with Hautman, their personal Keepers looming behind them.

The whirring fans inside the Pulvinus created an artificial breeze, shimmying the burgundy silks that shaded the private box.

It was still suffocating to be inside of it.

She was surrounded by the more prominent Belisarians, the ones that had offered fighters for the day’s events. Their clothes glinted with inlaid jewels and threads, catching the bright glare of the sun. Despite her angle, the flashes of light gleamed directly into Astar’s eyes, causing her to squint.

Hautman had also offered an invitation to the more wealthy Adurians. Their clothing wasn’t nearly as decorative as the Gegenii’s. Adurians weren't a showy people, but the rich earth tones of the fabrics were finely cut and creaseless. He was hoping this show would lure them into supporting him against his political rivals, both with money and force.

She surveyed the crowd below. It was heavily Gegenii, though she could still spot Adurians and Atarrabians in the crowd. Some could have been from Kirin, she guessed, but it was a region with mostly immigrants and they typically didn’t have a distinct look or style about them.

She watched as a lone man, his hood pulled over his head, jostled his way through the gathering. He found an opening between two groups of Gegenii that were passing drinks and snacks between them as they waited and attempted to blend in.

At least Yassen had shown up. If he was close enough, perhaps he’d be able to do something to help.

Astar bit her lip, the tang of the pain reminding her where she was.

This was the Theatre.

On the surface, it was built as a place for entertainment. But it had other uses.

The only way up to the stands was through the narrow stairs, and the only way to the stage below was through a series of twisting catacombs. The walls were made of solid stone, risen from the bedrock and formed by loas in their prime.

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It was a fortress, and all entrances and exits were currently guarded by groups of trained Keepers.

Among the antsy crowds, one person caught Astar’s eye. She seemed to have found a place between two groups much the same way as Yassen had, but there was still space around her. The clothing she wore was Adurian, but it was ill-fitting, and Adurians were all about fit when it came to style. Ill-fitting clothes would signify a lower class individual, who wouldn't have the privilege to leave their work for entertainment in another region. The woman’s features were soft, amber eyes set into a rounded face. Her skin was neutral but seemed a bit off to Astar, and when she reached up to adjust the hood of her cloak, it didn’t quite match the shade of her hands.

Hautman turned and gave a nod through the curtains around the Pulvinus, and a deafening horn blast rippled over the audience and quieted the rowdy conversations.

In front of her, Hautman rose to stand at the front of the Pulvinus.

“Welcome, my fellow Gegenii, and our esteemed guests,” he said.

Hautman paused, waiting until the scattering of conversations and the muffled shifting of bodies went still. Yassen had turned but kept his head angled low, attempting to blend his bulk with the rest of the crowd.

“You have gathered from all over the free territories to be with us here today, and I am glad to welcome you,” he began. “This will be a glorious day for us, as I have promised, but first, I must make a confession.”

Hautman clenched his hands together, wringing them in apology, ever the showman.

“I may have misled you,” Hautman continued, “but I meant no ill will.”

The crowd shifted, a chorus of murmurs rising.

“Peace,” Hautman said, his palms down to signal for quiet. “My people, I had to keep quiet about the true nature of this great day, for you see, I have uncovered a traitor among us.”

The gates opened. Two keepers flanked Kanna, half dragging her by the elbows and dropping her onto the sands.

“Some of you may know this creature.”

From where Astar sat Kanna seemed so small, hunched over on her hands and knees in the dirt. They’d dressed her in white, the contrast against the orange sands drawing all eyes to her.

“We welcomed her, and we named her Harbinger. But I have come to learn that she is not one of us. She is a Solarian soldier, sent there to whittle us down and sway your loyalties.”

The crowd’s voice turned sour, boos and hisses taking over the people in a wave. The strange woman from earlier stiffened, rousing Astar’s suspicions further.

Kanna shifted her weight, sitting back on her heels. Her eyes were closed, but she turned her face up to the sun.

Her stillness was unsettling.

“It has been declared that the Harbinger, this traitor, is to be sentenced to death on the stage.”