The assassins moved in the dark, gliding on the air as one unit. They entered through the tall doorways, keeping to the ceiling’s shadows. The guards took no notice, too focused on watching for movement in front of them.

The six assassins stalked through the doors to the prince’s bedroom. The door was shut, but that was no issue for the Hands. Fire and Earth worked together, one warping the air with heat while the other silently bent the door. It was a tricky combination to pull off, requiring months of work fine tuning the heat haze and Earth’s strength. Light helped as well, smoothing out the world so there would be no changes.

The group slid inside silently, Fire and Earth staying at the door to return it to its initial position. The rest moved forward toward the lumpy bed. The Hands sneered. Another ploy to confuse them, but there was no mistaking the tuft of hair poking out from under the sheets at the head of the bed. In addition, two guardsmen stood at the head next to the sleeping boy. The fools would have had better luck if they positioned at the doorway. At least then the assassins would have had to take them out before reaching the prine.

The Hand of Light grinned as they walked. Truly, none could match his god’s powers. With the power of Light, one could move anywhere they pleased without issue. His companion god’s powers of darkness were formidable as well, for they masked the sounds as they walked through the room. Wind ensured none could smell the six assassins, and Water was ready with a transparent blade to sever the child’s life.

Water moved in, masked by their god’s powers. For a moment, the Hand of Light thought he saw a guardsman’s eyes flick toward him but waved the suspicion away when he looked further to the door. The assassins watched as the Hand’s conjured blade stabbed downward onto the lump that was the prince.

“Intruders!” Shouted a guard.

Light almost burst out laughing. The guard had noticed too late. Now, he would have to bear the shame of failure.

The six Hands turned to leave, regrouping at the door. They stacked up on the ceiling, ready to make their escape once the guards burst through.

The Hand of Light had never expected anything to be on the ceiling opposite once the doors opened. His last thought was as how bright they were before claws found his neck.

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Walter pulled out his knife as Garegom dove onto the assassins, Walter having called his helpers from his domain after the killers attempted their deed. The former emperor slashed one—a man with silver hair—through the throat before the rest could react. Blood spewed from the man’s neck splattering the ground like raindrops.

A woman with hair black as shadow let out a silent scream. She conjured needles of darkness and stabbed at Garegom.

The other four assassins leaped from their perch on the ceiling and attempted to dash away. Flipper’s shield stopped them, the turtle placing it right in their path. Walter moved, his knife at the ready.

The human side didn’t know how to fight, but he knew that one cut with the knife would sever the assassin’s connections with their bodies. From there, all Walter needed was two more to collect the soul. Death energy spilled forth, casting a pallid shadow around Walter.

Gom yelled a battlecry and rushed at one of the assassins, his sword drawn. The killers, seeing they had nowhere to run, turned and pulled out weapons of their own.

Two of the assassins broke from the group, a man with flowing hair and a woman with hair as wild as a tornado, and moved to intercept Gom. The first brandished the watery knife he had used to ‘eliminate’ the prince, while the other spun up chakras of wind that they sent at the guardsman.

That was all Walter saw before his own assailants were on him. A man with hair as red as Garegom’s feathers conjured a spear of flame while the woman with hair as coarse and dark as dirt crafted two large maces.

The god of Death grit his teeth. What he was about to do would hurt.

The assassin of earth jumped at Walter, both maces raised high and ready to slam downward. The man of fire moved as well, stabbing forward to keep Walter preoccupied.

Neither were prepared for the god to throw his only weapon at the woman. She scoffed, confident that her stone skin would protect her.

The knife slid through easily, striking the woman in the heart.

“First, the body,” Walter murmured.

The woman’s arms fell to her side, the weight of the maces pulling them down now that she was no longer in control. Walter moved to avoid her falling body, but was unable to move away from the assassin of Fire. The spear pierced his side, burning through Walter’s guardsman outfit and cauterizing his organs.

Walter hissed from the pain, attempting to hold himself together. He dashed toward the collapsed woman as the assassin pulled his spear free. The assassin roared and moved to stab again, but Flipper’s shield appeared between them, blocking the strike.

The god of Death reached the woman, pulled out his knife, and made two more quick swipes. The assassin’s soul split from her body, falling into Walter’s hands.