“They won’t recognize me until I let them, but then they won’t ever not recognize me,” I said in amusement, as we walked up to the double doors in front.

Azaia settled herself grimly, and knocked once.

The door swung open almost instantly, and an older halvyr, meaning he looked to be in his later thirties, promptly opened the door. He was dressed in a butler’s outfit, looking very professional. His gaze alighted on Azaia, and immediately warmed up. “Lady Azaia! What a pleasant surprise. We were not expecting you.” His eyes moved over her shoulder to Legion’s face, which had shifted once again to hide their eyes and put the professional bored bodyguard look on again, and then they moved over and down to me.

His eyes got wide, too.

My hand sank into his face, fingertips glowing, and he jerked, a garbled scream coming out of his throat as I grabbed and pulled.

The scream had two voices to it.

The thing that came out of him was flowing black, with a head that opened up into shadowy jaws and skin like ink.

I’d seen its twin down in Mexico. As the butler’s eyes rolled up and he convulsed in shock at the shadowy shabnodaemon being torn from him, Legion-Mei calmly reached right over Azaia’s shoulder with Grit extended, and put a silent, blazing bullet in the butler’s face, their dark eyes instantly reverting to ink and silver.

The daemon was squealing as it materialized, starting to clutch at my fist. Swirls of Shards ran down my arm, condensed, and blew right through it with Heavenly life, Light, and power. The inky flesh my fingers were sunken into burned away, and kept burning in a devouring stream of Wrath and Vivus and Sacred energies.

Its mental scream of horror as it was fed to the Land lasted a couple seconds longer than it did.

Azaia was the first to step inside, tears at the corner of her eyes, her lips quavering but resolute nonetheless. Legion was right after her, and I slid up behind, Clavus spinning in my hand as two bodyguards raced out of an adjoining room.

Despite themselves, they hesitated when they saw the beautiful young halvyri with the cerulean hair standing there. “Lady Azaia?!” they blurted out in alarm, their guns still in hand but not pointing at her.

A Grit round loaded with silent, Pure Wrath slammed into the face of the one, and a flight of Shards into the chest of the other. Both dropped instantly.

Azaia watched the purple fade from the Detect Evil VII radii of Legion and I, still painting the presences glistening darkly in its view to the south, closer to the river. Some of them were starting to move.

Legion led the way, surging through the adjoining sitting room, the dining room towards the back, and did not even bother to open the glass doors there. They slammed right through the glass, shooting at the two guards with two Grits flaring brilliant Wrath as glass and splinters flew.

I was drawing up my targets and let fly with a Seeking Shardray.

Everything on the scan was in range. A coruscating Ray of many colors blew past Legion and arced away, going for the first target before I skated out of the room.

A second later, eight different purple spots were fading away, and I was out there and coasting up to the lip of the balcony, looking over the landing below us.

The halvyri there was slowly getting to her feet, her golden eyes starting to glow and blazing red hair starting to actually stream fire.

It certainly would have been impressive to most people. Her eyes settled on me, and she froze in shock.

“Hello, Father.” I flicked up twenty-three Shards, all jet and silver crystal teardrops, with glows around them of many, many colors. “I would like to introduce you to the power of the conjoined Bright and Dark Moon Bloodlines. Please, resist. I’m sure you have a perfect defense against my attack. I will find it most amusing.”

The flames licking up around the woman below flickered and went out as she licked her lips. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Lady Traveler. Why have you come here to kill me?”

“Nice Astral Ward,” I noted conversationally, and a flash of silver washed over her and promptly broke every extant spell upon her as if they were gossamer. “Clerical magic, and Pact Magic. I’m afraid the young lady behind me can verify that her mother had neither.”

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I’d fed all the sensations right up to her. Azaia stepped up, her eyes glowing golden Light as she glared at the woman who was not her mother.

“And you can feel it too, can’t you? Your mutual Hungry Kiss Pacts can feel one another at this range.”

Legion stepped up and stared down at the halvyri impassively with ink and silver eyes. The internationally famous fire-haired beauty blanched despite herself.

I started down the steps, eyes not leaving her, my Shards revolving in dazzling, attention-fixing splendor. They were as long as my hand, individually far more dangerous than any minor spell, and there were arcs of many, many kinds of energies burning and shining around them. She was having a hard time looking at the Sacred energies attached to them, and backed away despite herself.

“I know you can sense I reinforced the Stillflight and the Interdiction, so you know you aren’t going anywhere,” I went on conversationally. I flicked a finger, and a spot of ruby light flickered over my finger, began to spin around me, and two blood-red arrows formed on it, before one faded away.

“Hey, Dad, how ya doin’? Been waitin’ t’ hear from ya for, like, ages now.” The red arrow of the Bloodline Bond pointed accusingly. “You’n’ma getting along pretty good, I see. Betcha she doesn’t argue back at all now.”

She blanched as I reached the landing, backing up against the far end of it. “So, it is you,” she sniffed defiantly. “How did you hide your Bloodline all those years?”

“I didn’t. You were too inept to sense it. I had both Bloodlines, and if you didn’t know what you were looking at, Bright and Dark seemed to cancel one another out. Idiot.” I tilted my head as she grit her teeth in frustrated consternation. “Oh, come on, not even going to show me what the Dark Moon and Phoenix Bloodline do together? I’m disappointed, Dad. Thought you’d show some of that famous Morning temper. You sure you don’t want to spell-tussle with a Deep Fourteen?”

Her golden face went almost sickly white, and black tinges appeared on her as, now getting very frightened, she started to reach for her true Bloodline. “Fourteen!” she gasped.

“Oh, Casting Shards at Fifty-plus, but that’s a minor thing. Just had to die and come back as a Shroudborn for that.”

Fifty!, she mouthed in horror.

Legion rose out of invisibility behind her, the illusion up top popping away. They grabbed her arms easily, forced her down and forward effortlessly, golden fires snapping up and Dispelling any magicks she might be trying.

My Shards didn’t fade away as Azaia walked up beside me. I held up a diamond as big as my fist, glittering with an inner fire of magic.

“Hammer this into his forehead, and get back your mother’s soul,” I told her.

She looked at me, at the gem, wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes, and snatched the crystal from my fist. She started forwards, eyes starting to stream with holy fire as her Empyreal Bloodline ignited.

She had the Charisma of a Morningsun, it was true, but she had the Wisdom of an Empyreal, and it was plain to see which one was stronger at the moment.

“My-my darling, wait, you can’t do this, I’m your mother!” the Warlock with the face of Jaelez Morningfire began to babble in fear, but she couldn’t move at all, her upper arms held in a steely grip of magic-eating Wrath, and Azaia’s face showed nothing but divine retribution.

“And I’m taking you back!” Azaia swore at her, and arcane energy crackled around her hand as she slammed the point of that diamond into the Warlock’s forehead with all her strength.

Bone crunched with the Arcane Strike, and a good three inches of diamond punched deep into the brain of that Warlock.

“Noooahhhauuhhhhgggggnnnn,” the Warlock tried to say, face starting to twist, and pull... and was sucked away into the glittering diamond embedded in their forehead, revealing the truth beneath.

“Huh.” He looked a whole lot like that manager of Morninglight’s; a dark-haired, violet-eyed halvyr in his seeming thirties, now exposed as the image and form of Morningfire was pulled away from him into the bloodied diamond.

Yes, he looked quite ridiculous in her green dress and earrings and whatnot, too. Or quite good, if you’re into drag queens with crossed eyes, holes in their heads, and drooling mouths.

The diamond flared with a warm, fiery light, and Azaia yanked it out, stepping back quickly and hugging it to her chest.

Mr. Drag Queen’s violet eyes tried to focus as he stared at me.

“You know, I could ask your name, but I don’t really want to know it. I could ask for your plans, but I find I don’t care enough to keep you around to do it. I do know that I’m going to look for any more of your descendants, and probably put them in the ground.

“So, Mr. Patrilineal Progenitor the Pervert, goodbye. It was very nice not knowing you.”

Idiot came down and split his skull, neck, and chest in two. Wrath exploded through them, and beat the Pact raging up to grab his soul, fed by a continuous roaring surge of Wrath that needed only twelve seconds or so to reduce the stricken halvyr life-thief to smatterings of white dust.

I gathered up the fallen jewelry and belongings in my hand, and presented them to Azaia. She took them with lowered eyes, not letting go of the diamond in her hand clutched to her breast.

“Is there a way to bring her back?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” I said calmly, and her eyes lit up. “It can be done easily if you’ve a lock of hair from before that arsehat murdered her. Otherwise, it will take a Wish.”

“Oh, oh! And Light?” she asked quickly.

I frowned, and her face fell. “The Ritual consumes the soul of the victim to do what it does. Morninglight is gone.”

“What about...”

“One moment.” There was a roar as the side of the villa blew open, causing a bit of a show visible for some distance. Azaia turned to see Legion step out into the opening of the security room there, Grit in one hand, Idiot in the other, and nod.

“Let’s go save Morningflame first.”

Azaia clutched the burning diamond in her hand tighter, and nodded. Her family’s enemies had gone after Light, they had replaced Fire; there was no doubt whatsoever they would have gone after Flame, too.

The Morningsun family had been under assault, and only Azaia’s studies at the temples of Sylune had saved her from a similar fate.

It was time to stop it all, and very harshly, indeed.