Keeper Spire stared down at the sprawling city below him from his place atop the highest tower of the Eternal Castle. Genua's streets stretched far and wide over the land, ringed in the remote distance by the wild growth of Perdition Forest. The sun had long since set, but the wide streets and narrow alleys between the countless stone buildings were lit here and there in the many hues of eternal flame.

Keeper Spire looked down at his right palm. A purple flame sparked to life, spreading down to the tips of his fingers. The eternal flame danced and grew, shifting from purple to a deep, bloody red.

It was in his power, Keeper Spire realized, to reach his hand out the tower window and rain eternal flame down upon the city. He had brought Genua into existence, and he could easily remove it with a swipe of his hand.

Would it be for the better? he wondered. If the city ceased to exist…

"Keeper Spire."

The red flame extinguished as he closed his palm and turned to address the law marshal who had just stepped into the room. The man bowed low.

"There has been talk on Market Street," the marshal said as he raised his head, "Lark Dunn and his men are looking to start something again with the Hillshires tomorrow."

Keeper Spire raised a black eyebrow. Like the changing color of the eternal flame, his ancient eyes shifted from purple to red. His ageless face turned back toward the window.

"Will this meaningless hatred never end…?" he murmured.

"Sir?" the marshal questioned.

Keeper Spire waved a hand in the air. "Send out whoever you can spare to patrol the streets around Market Street until further notice," he instructed. "We must prevent any fighting before it begins. I fear this ancestral feud has developed a taste for blood, as of late. We cannot allow it to satiate its thirst." He turned to the marshal, his eyes glowing yellow-orange. "Understood?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The man bowed again and went off to carry out his orders. Keeper Spire sighed and looked out the window, toward Market Street.

It had been so many years since the Hillshire and Dunn clans began their feud, there were none now alive besides Spire himself who could remember what caused it in the first place. Even Keeper Spire, who had been there when the original Lords Dunn and Hillshire pledged their hatred toward each other, could not remember its origin. So many generations had passed. The feud was as old as the city of Genua itself. And the animosity between the families had only grown with the city. Long had it plagued Keeper Spire's days and nights.

I created this city as a sanctuary for my people, he thought with weariness. So why does it feel as though all these years it has merely served as a battleground for the foolhardy and the contemptuous?

"I must put an end to it," he spoke aloud.

His words seemed to float out the window and disperse above the city. There was a sense of finality to them. He had finally reached a decision, he realized. He knew what he must do.

Keeper Spire turned from the window and stepped toward a large trunk, against the opposite wall. Carefully, he opened it and pulled out a box made of polished copper and padlocked shut. He ran a glowing thumb over the padlock and it clicked open.

Stepping to a table at the center of the room, he set the copper box down upon its surface. Slowly, gently, he opened its lid. His face relaxed, almost into a smile. Within the box sat a round, dense stone, blacker than tar, with a pitted surface. A strange, humming energy filled the air.

"I'm ready," he spoke into the box, as if the stone were a living, hearing being. "I'm ready to face what it is I must do."

He reached in and clasped the stone.