The sight of their marksmen falling from above, and their emperor on his knees, sent a rise of panic through the last legion. The third regiment turned and tried to flee, only to be cut to ribbons as the fourth regiment made a desperate escape.

“Get up,” Nege heard himself say, as if from a distance, as he watched the Teljuk ranks quickly approach the emperor, his bodyguards closing in and fighting in desperation to save their ruler. They willingly gave their lives as he lay soaking the dust with his blood.

A Yanisry charged forward ahead of the others, breaking rank and cutting through the neck one of the last imperial guards. In slow motion, Nege watched the soldier raise his weapon to the side to make a swinging stroke at the emperor’s crouched head.

A quick duck and roll put the emperor behind the man, and Eternine plunged his long sword into the side of the Yanisry’s ribcage. With a twist that showered blood on the already soaking crimson dust, the emperor withdrew his sword and ran back along with the fleeing men of the fourth regiment, his imperial guards fallen behind him.

Back to the first gate, just below where Nege stood and watched, the troops ran into the lock and pounded, begging to be let inside. They yanked and chopped at the lock, terror-struck and unable to fight, thinking only to survive, only to escape.

The third regiment’s miniscule efforts to hold, causing the Yanisries to break rank, meant the Teljuks paused to reform as they prepared to charge the fleeing rabbits in front of them. But this gave Eternine time to run to his troops.

“Truscans! Truscans!” Eternine shouted, standing in front of the line of men trying to break through the gate.

Hearing the voice of their emperor, the fourth regiment turned and nearly froze in shock to see him standing. Bleeding, but in front of them. The emperor immediately silenced their weak cheers.

Nege locked eyes with the emperor one last time. But it wasn’t at the Prophet the man was looking. It was over the horizon, at the waning darkness. The sun crept over the eastern horizon, visible only to Nege as he watched from the walls. Eternine could see, shining above the Prophet’s head, a bright single light in the remaining spot of black in the wakening day’s sky.

“Morning star,” Eternine said, and spat out the blood in his mouth, wiping his lips.

“Truscans!” the emperor shouted to his troops. “You are the last regiment. The last regiment of the last legion!” Eternine pointed the tip of his sword, his arm stiff despite his wound, at the reforming Teljuks. “There lies the Teljuks. And here stands your emperor!”

With a whirl of his blood-soaked hand, the emperor tore the purple cloak off his back and threw it to the ground. “I am a soldier of the last regiment of the last legion, the last Truscan. Who will charge with me?” Eternine said.

A weakened cry came from the last regiment.

“Who will charge with me?”

A spirited cry came from the last legion.

“Who will charge!”

A cry of triumphal fury roared from the sorrowful last Truscans.

“Infinity! And Eternon!”

Emperor Eternine the Third charged ahead of the only remaining soldiers of his empire. With a swing of his onyx-pommeled sword, he cut through a shocked Yanisry as the Teljuks were still trying to reform.

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Through one Teljuk to the next the emperor charged. Nege kept his eye on the man, trying to see through the weak colors of red and black and white and that filthy color of blood-soaked flesh. The coming light distinguished neither Teljuk nor Truscan as the ranks disappeared and a melee enveloped both sides.

Panicking, Nege went up and down the walls, searching for the emperor, till a faint glimmer from the light now shining down on the walls reflected off Eternine’s onyx pommeled sword. Thrown into the air, the sword fell as its owner collapsed to the ground, a Teljuk sword cut through his waist.

“No!” Nege shouted, and leapt from the walls. In a swing of crimson, his blessed Prophet weapon lit up with a blinding red light that ripped away the wooden block covering its tip. Shooting a blast of red at the ground softened his fall as he swung his staff in a sweep that instantly killed the fighting Teljuks and Truscans near him.

Stepping back at the sight of this strange new foe, the Teljuks recognized the red glow of a Prophet weapon, and the wicked blade it came from. Nege’s staff was no staff. Its wooden tip, now lying on the ground, had covered a foot-long blade. A yari, not a staff. And the Prophet roared as he swung it again.

Nege wielded his yari with impossible speed. The blessed weapon cut through armor, flesh, and bone easily as slicing through air and killed any man whose blood it touched. Their emperor fallen, the Truscans fled. The Prophet unleashed, the Teljuks fell back and reformed.

Nege did not pursue the Teljuks. In fact, he dropped his yari as he fell to his knees at the emperor’s bleeding side. “Eternine,” Nege said as he pulled the man’s head slightly up, resting it on his waist. “Emperor.”

The emperor opened and closed his mouth and eyes, trying to respond, his eyes wide as he stared at the bloodied, crimson blade at the end of Nege’s staff. Nege felt a sense of glee in the emperor, followed immediately by pain and anger.

“Eternine!” Nege shouted.

The Teljuks, realizing the Prophet was not attacking them, and too eager to lay claim to the city, rushed around Nege and slaughtered the remaining Truscans fleeing to the gate, unable to escape death.

From the emperor, the Prophet felt nothing but fear.

“Eternine. Please. Infinity, please,” Nege pleaded. “Eternine, say something. Say something, anything.”

From the emperor, he felt nothing but despair.

“Infinity! Eternine!” the Prophet shouted.

From the emperor, Nege felt peace.

The cries of death echoed around Emperor Eternine the Third as he died.

“Absolutely irresponsible. Horrible and unprovoked!” Sono shouted to Nege as they walked out of the Sept chambers and onto the wide courtyard of the Pinnacle. They had just finished their report to the Sept, back on Sevens, and Sono did not like their findings. “You kill a hundred soldiers, not including those before the final battle, and they don’t even reprimand you!”

Nege remained quiet, not wanting to say anything to defend himself to the woman as she stormed off.

Stepping in front of the Red to lay one last bit of wisdom on him, the White pointed a finger at him and said in biting words, “If you’ve changed for the worse one fragment of the development of that region, I’ll make sure the Sept sends you back to Mother with your yari broken in half and used as a splint!”

With that, Sono ran off to the White chambers.

The other White, the one who’d been with Hemend, walked past Nege and Murel. As she followed Sono to the White chambers, she cast the Red a sympathetic glance, then hurried on.

Having exited the Sept chambers much more slowly than his two compatriots, Murel approached Nege. “You are lucky,” the Gold noted, holding his gauntlet behind his back. He noticed the Red had his head straight up, staring into the sky. “What are you looking at?”

“The orb,” Nege said.

Murel glanced upward as well, spying the red, white, and gold-blending ball of light suspended at the very top of the impossibly tall pinnacle. It glistened in the glow of the afternoon sun.

“You are lucky that the Prophets assigned to Hemend relayed his statement. The Teljuk leader held no qualms toward you. He in fact thanked you for returning the emperor’s sword. Though he regretted you and no one else was able to find Eternine’s corpse.”

“Like I said. He died as one of his soldiers.”

Murel nodded, satisfied with this answer. “So why did you kill those men to reach him?”

“I wanted to hear his last words,” Nege said, unable to take his eyes off the orb.

“And they were?”

Nege of the Red Prophets shook his head. “He didn’t say anything.”

The orb glistened in the sun, a glowing beacon for the mission of the Sevens Prophets.