“Your White powers would then have gone into your Red intruder as well,” the Blesser said. “Or am I wrong? Red Chair, this is an obscure situation even I have not examined.”

“You are correct, Blesser,” the Red Chair said. “Though it is rarely done, the secondary draining, as this circumstance is called, gives all other drained powers to the new draining Red. But by this time the accused had already drained several Whites. The issue is irrelevant.”

“No less a crime.”

“What is one grain of sand to the surface of a beach?”

“Enough to raise the beach by one grain of sand,” the Gold Chair said. “Every crime this filth has committed will be cataloged and—”

“We are still ruling on the circumstance, Gold Chair,” the Blesser stated. “Jerard of the Red Prophets, I see that your story is true. Normally I would call a ruling of Propheticide and the Reds standing behind you would end your life and melt your blade down to etch your name into the Pillar of Fools.”

“Too much an honor.”

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t order me to do!” Jerard yelled. “I did my duty to the Prophets! I did my duty to everyone in this room and the heritage of our people!”

“Do you deny the charge of Propheticide?” the Blesser asked.

“I obeyed orders!”

“Do you deny the charge?”

“I did what you couldn’t do!”

“Answer the Blesser’s question!” the Gold Chair barked.

“I… I, if he hadn’t grabbed me we wouldn’t even be in this position,” Jerard said, and pointed at the unflinching Krish. “You’d be pinning a medal on me!”

“So you don’t deny the charge,” the Blesser said.

“No, I mean… it was Krish’s fault.”

“It was Krish’s fault you killed so many Prophets?”

“It’s different.” Jerard stamped his foot and crossed his arms. “It just looks bad because he stopped me. These two were traitors. I obeyed orders and fulfilled the mission of the Prophets on Soul!”

The calls and cheers from the gallery grew loud once more. The calls to set Jerard free and agreements that he was a hero made the Blesser’s hands go white on her mace as she rapped it on the podium.

“That is enough,” the Blesser said. “From all of you. We lost enough Prophets in the civil war. I will not let any further hatred begin here.”

“We are not prepared to use the word civil war to describe the conflict following the nuclear assault, Blesser,” the Gold Chair said in a low voice. “We feel history—”

“When you find a better word for it tell me and I’ll start using it to describe this tragedy. Now, Jerard, no matter what word you use, what you did what horrendous. Yet the reason you stand here is to let us proceed as the final witness against Krish.”

“Final witness?” Jerard asked.

“A hundred others have issued their official accusations,” the Red Chair said. “You’re the last, Jerard.”

“Tell us, Jerard of the Red Prophets,” the Blesser said, “who was it that brought you off Soul that day?”

“Him,” Jerard said, pointing at Krish. “Krish of the Red.”

Krish blinked, but otherwise made no response.

“Krish of the Red Prophets, do you deny the accusations leveled against you?” the Blesser asked.

“No,” Krish said. His voice was neither loud nor soft, and cast no echo throughout the round chamber.

“Good. Execute him,” the Gold Chair said.

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The Reds guarding Krish tightened their grips on their leveled weapons.

“Let’s take a step back. I agree he needs to be executed,” the Red Chair said. “I have no tolerance for thieves. But no one has ever been executed for draining before. We need to find legal grounds.”

“What he did is grounds enough for execution. And his charge is specific enough that Prophet law is designed to be unable to address it, enabling us to decide whatever sentence we want. Isn’t that fitting your interpretation of Prophet law?” the Blesser asked.

“Of course.”

“I do not want to be remembered as the first Blesser to execute a Prophet with no blood on his hands. While there are numerous accusations of misuse of Prophet power, Krish has yet to be accused of Propheticide.”

“If he is, we’ll have our immediate execution.”

“And the others too,” the Gold Chair added.

Harol wept. Jerard gulped. Krish blinked.

“You do realize we can see the truth in everything you say, Krish,” the Blesser said.

“Of course,” Krish replied. “Lying here would be pointless.”

“Are you prepared to tell us exactly what happened, without sparing details?”

“I was aware of everything I did, and have no regret for my decisions. If you want me to educate you on what happened, without any hesitation for it being held under the eye of a Mother-dweller White like those analyzing my thoughts, I am willing to do so.”

“Then in your own words, Krish,” the Blesser said, “tell us what you did.”

“It started here,” Krish said to the Blesser.

“Thank goodness no one was killed, though,” the Blesser replied. “I can’t say the same for the Prophets killing each other on Soul.”

“If I’d known about what was going on—”

“You and the entire force of Prophets would be on Soul in moments. I know. The conflict has escalated beyond what we’d hoped to control.” The Blesser turned to address the room full of Prophets. “That’s why I’m sending all of you.”

Reds, Golds, and Whites of all ages and origins were gathered, all those who’d accepted the rushed call to depart the planets of their missions and come to help end the conflict on Soul. The bombs hadn’t even stopped mushrooming by the time the Blesser gave her sweaty-palmed speech.

“You will act in triplicate to stop the in-fighting,” the Blesser said, spinning the handle of her mace in one hand as she paced before the assembled Prophets who had gathered in the Sept Chambers. “Reds, subdue without killing. Golds, keep those you see alive. Whites, shield from the radiation and return all Prophets safely.”

“What if we’re attacked?” a Red Krish didn’t know asked.

“Subdue the attacker.”

“What if it’s a Prophet?” a Gold asked.

The Blesser visibly suppressed a sigh. “Then do what you can to subdue them and return them alive. As for the population of Soul, your orders to fall back from the planet still stand.”

“What of the population?” Krish asked.

“Some survived. Some Prophets disobeyed the order to pull back and saved them. Some are killing each other over that order. The conflict is growing. You have your teams. And I won’t hold you back. Go. Now.”

“You heard the lady,” Krish whispered to the White he’d been paired with, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her shaking nerves. She smiled as she closed her eyes and shifted them and the Gold they’d been paired with to the surface of Soul.

The moment Krish saw he was on Soul, the thousands of survivors gathered in the park, he tightened his grip on the White’s shoulder and drained her White energy.

“Look there,” the Gold next to Krish said, pointing at some Prophets fighting near an equestrian statue. “We need to… Krish? What—”

Before the Gold could comprehend the sight of his White companion falling to the grass, Krish had his hand on the Prophet’s arm. The gold color of the Prophet’s skin seemed to drain with his Gold power as he dropped his blessed spear.

With his opened White senses, Krish could tell a Red had killed another Red behind him. He saw the blade strike and the man dash to a defenseless White by the statue. With a burst of speed, Krish ran to the statue and swung to deflect the short sword’s blow before draining the murdering Red of his power. Before he was even done draining this one, he drained the fainting White.

As the Prophets fell unconscious around him, Krish felt the surge of multifaceted power coursing through his veins and pulsing in his Red hatchet. “Hmm,” he said, pondering the energy as he turned the weapon over in his hand. It seemed sharper, possibly more opaque than before.

A cough from a man at the other side of the statue caught his ear and made Krish look up. For the first time, he comprehended the amount of people before him. “Hmm,” he said as he used his White power to count them. “This is going to take more power than I’d thought. Hold on a moment.”

Krish opened his senses and found another White. He shifted across the globe just in time to save her from a Golden halberd. Krish took the blow in the chest and grunted as the Gold snarled with the realization that he’d missed the White. Krish grabbed the halberd’s haft and yanked on it. The Gold broke free and prepared to swing but was close enough for Krish to grab the man by the side and quickly drain him of his power. He didn’t need that much new Gold power to heal the wound he’d just received. But it helped all the same.

“Thank you,” the White said as she put a hand to her chest. “That traitor was about to kill me. How did—”

The woman didn’t even consider Krish’s touch would harm her, allowing him to take her by the same hand she clutched to her heart. “That’s better,” Krish said when he felt a planet-wide awareness of Soul’s life take hold. “Gonna need more in a second. One thing at a time.”

Krish grabbed the unconscious Gold and White and shifted them back to the park with the thousands of people. “Everyone stay close!” Krish shouted. “I’ve never done this before but I’m pretty sure it will work.”