"Here we go again," Rinatha said as they descended the long stair to Ald’nari, the ancient cavern that housed the Hall of Ascension.

Her uncle snickered, but her father stared blankly ahead. She took his hand and gripped it tightly. Something about his reaction seemed distant, even beyond the vacant look in his eyes. He held her hand as if he were guiding her, or helping her to steady herself on the steps.

"I know my way, papa," she said.

And even if she did not, white crystals glowed within the skin of the damp stony steps, providing ample light for her young drow eyes. And while narrow and steep, Nadis made no turns. Arrow straight, it plunged downward from the imperial city through the endless black space that cradled Ald’nari like a womb.

He did not reply. But she chose not to let his silence worry her. She'd seen so little of him over the last three years that she was just happy to have him there, whatever mood he was in. The moment they arrived in Primus of Drow, her matron mother began grooming her for her role as Daughter Imminent. Night and day she drilled with scimitar, glaive, and katar, and studied the revered arts of poisoning and subterfuge. When she wasn’t learning to fight, she studied the histories of Primus's countless noble houses, learned stealth from the Dark Sisters, and lost herself in waking dreams amidst the Stones of Hidden Light. Such was the life of a young noble at court in Primus. Each daughter was taught to lie, sneak, and betray, while their heads were filled with dreams of lying, sneaking, and betraying their way onto the throne.

It wasn't all a loss, though. She enjoyed the weapon drills, and learning to move quietly through shadow, but all the other things she'd been forced to learn seemed pointless and dull. She dearly missed her home in Protus of Drow, where life had been simple and serene. There they had little but loved much. She had been free to spend her nights cave fishing with her father, learning to tie knots and throw nets, and hunting lizards and frogs in the moonlit swamps above ground. Every day she would sit on his lap while he read to her from the Book of Tides, and she would watch her mother teach her uncle swordplay late into the morning while her father's gentle voice soothed her to sleep. She would give anything to go back to that life. But there was no going back, no matter how badly she wished to.

Her mother had also been happy in Protus, but one night her smile died, and she led their entire noble house through the motherdark to Primus. Before the other houses knew what to make of Rinatha's family, her mother sent her uncle to put the swordplay she'd taught him to work. In less than a fortnight, he and House Af'zisi's fighting men had slain the matrons and heiresses of three smaller houses. When the lesser daughters and fighting men of those houses joined theirs, House Af'zisi quickly grew to a formidable size. Rinatha was now the heiress of a dangerous house that was on the path to great power, and her time was spent learning about death rather than life. Through all this, her father, once a constant part of her life, had been demoted to little more than a servant, and she saw him only briefly and at designated times. But he was there now, holding her hand.

Nadis ended under a circular archway of pale gold with a keystone of polished beryllium. Beyond that archway was the outer hall; a tall, narrow passageway that coiled around the chamber where the new empress would be crowned. Rinatha had not yet seen the latest contender to the throne. What little she knew of the woman she’d heard from her mother, who’d befriended the young noble only shortly before she launched her coup. The empress in power when they first arrived was a venerable woman with ancient amber eyes. Rinatha was shocked when she was murdered, and even more shocked when her killer was made empress after her, rather than being punished. Rinatha quickly began to view the rulership of Primus as a strange and twisted game. It only made her miss her former home all the more. There was no empress in Protus, nor was there treachery. Their law was passed down by a counsel of nine matrons who surrendered their seats every six years, each in turn so that there were always three of the old counsel seated among the new. Their rule was as peaceful as their land, and those who shared in it were as close as sisters.

Her old home was indeed a far cry from here, and the storm hadn't ended with the second empress, for no more than a month after she was crowned, a horde of smaller houses rose as one and marched on Antam’asana, the imperial city. They were led by a man named Destin Jin'par, who was both a Son of Conquest and a Husband Virile. His wife had done the unthinkable after the battle. All had assumed his conquest was done by her orders, but when she was called upon to claim the throne, she stood aside to let him rise. Several of the older matrons refused to bow to him, and were slain on the spot by the Knights of the Worm; the guardians of ascendant law and crusaders of the War Within.

Destin had seemed a good enough emperor. He was a skilled fighter and gave wonderful speeches, and his wife was as strong and cunning as a matron should be. Their rule brought changes that reminded Rinatha somewhat of Protus, but only two and a half years later, he too was overthrown. It had been a tempestuous thing, being torn from her tranquil home to come to this savage place.

A small child coughed behind her, disturbing her thoughts. The outer hall was damp and cold, and she fought the urge to sniffle. Tall rush torches lined the walls, each fountaining green copper-salted flame that hinted at the towering height of the cavern. Shadows danced like wild things in that unearthly light, and hushed whispers echoed as the crowd sullenly trudged along. Her father was clearly not the only one who seemed stricken by Destin's death. Rinatha wondered why. It seemed to her that one would expect a new ruler to have a short reign in Primus. Yet the people around her were all devastated. They plodded along aimlessly, dark heads drooped, argent hair draped limply over slumped shoulders. Only she and her uncle had any life in them. She could hear the vigor in his footfalls, and she sprang forward with every step, her long white braid bouncing happily from side to side.

They made their traditional three marches along the circular hall before stopping outside the gate. It was a round door of timeless black stone that shone like stained glass. It opened with a soft growl and as always Rinatha tried to see inside before going in. The green fires of the torches stopped dead at the gate's horizon, and none of her inner eyelids could help her pierce the thick shadow beyond, but still she tried, if nothing else, to alleviate boredom. A bell rang from inside the deep black hole, and one by one the star-haired and night-skinned drow stepped through.

The Hall of Ascension was a spherical hollow inside a tremendous black geode. More salted flames flickered in the mouths of black-iron grotesques that ringed its inner wall. Their viridian light glinted off the crystals of the geode and cast a sickly pallor over the room. Rinatha felt as if she’d stepped into a dead sun that had become a grave of stars. The floor was flattened and in the very center of the chamber was a dais of purple jade. A white stone table was set in the center of the dais, offset by a weapons rack containing a spear, a sword and a dagger. Beside the table stood the Matron Ascendant; a withered crone with blood red eyes, dressed in a bone white gown that looked as ancient as her. In her hands was a gemless crown of black iron, the prize so many died to win. On the stone table, clothed in plain linens of ochre and saffron, lay Destin Jin'par.

Each noble house was represented by its three paramount members, five of its attendant sisters, and fifteen of their fighting men. Rinatha's mother was strangely absent, leaving her and her father to stand alone in front of the rest of their house. As their Son of Conquest, her uncle stood directly behind them. The dais was not far from where they stood, and she could see clearly through the crowd to Destin. His corpse was desiccated and rank, and looked about to crumble into dust. A putrid smell found its way to her nose, which promptly wrinkled. What bothered her most, though, were the drab clothes he was dressed in. The empresses she had seen on the table were shrouded in rich lilac and cloth-of-gold. Destin's shabby rags belied the wanton contempt shown to men here in Primus.

It made her sad to see. Men of her kin were smaller than women, and not as strong, but they could fight well when properly trained, and had many other gifts besides. Her father was no fighter, that was certain, but he was a masterful builder, fisher, gatherer, trapper, sower, cook; in fact, there was little he could not do. He could make a filling meal out of the sparsest ingredients, and stitch even the worst tears in their clothing. But all his wonderful gifts were wasted in Primus. Straight away he was sent to the barracks to scour armor, muck lizard pens, and slice mushrooms in the kitchens. All the while Rinatha and her mother enjoyed decadent feasts and were waited on hand and foot.

She realized she'd been squeezing his hand tighter and tighter as she thought of how much she missed him. He looked down at her and she beamed. His eyes shimmered dully as he returned her smile, albeit faintly. "Time to let go now, little flame," he whispered. She loved it when he called her that. She gave his hand one more squeeze before dutifully releasing it, then did her best to appear as crestfallen as the rest of the crowd.

The Matron Ascendant's voice crackled through the air. "Matrons Supere and Daughters Imminent, Sons of Conquest and Husbands Virile, tonight we look into the void and gaze both up and down the River. On this bed of cold stone lies the master who was, and in this hall of burning crystal stands the master who will be. Of Destin Jin'par, much can be said. He was one man in a myriad; an anomaly, a smouldering ember that refused to fade no matter how much ash was heaped upon him. Some branded him a heretic. They claim he was an agent of chaos, bent on destroying our natural order. Others styled him a martyr and say that he rose in order to fall, so that the spilling of his blood would rekindle the hearts of our fighting men. Say what you wish of the man, only be careful to whom, for the natural order has been restored."

The Matron's voice trailed off threateningly as she turned to a group of robed men standing near the dais. Over their black robes were vests of black scales that glistened like glass in the wild green flames. Each held a spear that bore a black standard with a ring of white flame; the blazon of the Black Sun.

The Knights of the Worm, Rinatha thought. Uncle Essenti will be one of them one day. I hope it takes him a long time. I'll be lonely without him AND Papa.

The Knights of the Worm stepped aside to allow a young woman through. She approached the dais with a measured stride and bowed her head. Rinatha's eyes opened wide. She's BEAUTIFUL. Her eyes are so big and blue, and her ears are so long and pointy! And I want to wear armor like that. All shiny black scales! It looks like snake skin.

"Alidya of House Sek'remen," croaked the Matron Ascendant, "is this man dead by your hand?"

"He is, Matron." If there could be a sound for a color, Alidya's voice was the sound of silver; strong and pure, ringing like a reveille in the cold dark hall. Rinatha rubbed her eyes as the new empress mounted the steps to the dais. There seemed to be a fog growing in the room, a thick fog that whispered and tried to blind her, but when she blinked it was gone.

"Show us," the Matron Ascendant commanded. Alidya then stepped to the weapons rack. Rinatha watched her intently. Spear for martial conquest, sword for single combat, dagger for subterfuge. Much to her disappointment, Alidya took the dagger. So far only Destin had taken the spear, and none had taken the sword. She thought Alidya would reach for the sword, and wondered why she was wearing armor and not a gown if she’d won the throne through subterfuge.

Alidya stood by the table and raised the knife over Destin's chest. The Matron Ascendant raised her hand and barked for her to halt. "You killed this man, child, of that there is no doubt. Of your cunning, there is no doubt. Of your passion, there is no doubt. Of your wisdom... Well, you are such a young thing. It would be a tragic waste for one with your potential to take the throne, only to be quickly deposed. Unless you name a Matron Redundant, you will be plotting your own death by plunging that dagger into Destin."

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"I shall name a Matron Redundant."

"That was quickly decided. You have someone in mind then? A co-conspirator perhaps?"

The Knights of the Worm stepped aside again, and Rinatha stifled a gasp as her mother sauntered into view. She wore a sparse gown of orange and crimson silk over her strong, lithe body. On her brow was a gold circlet set with garnets, and over her heart was a brooch of lapis lazuli. Her torso was adorned with a breastplate of shimmering bronze. Whispered protests slipped from hidden lips throughout the crowd, to which Odessi responded with a faint snarl.

"Matron Odessi," the Matron Ascendant clapped her bony hands together, "you are a mother after all our hearts. Truly, I could think of no better choice. I hope you understand the consequences of this office. If Alidya fails, you fail. If Alidya prospers, you prosper. If Alidya dies, you die."

"I understand."

Rinatha's stomach clenched. Her own mother's life was tied to the new empress, and she had seen so many killed in so short a time. She couldn't lose her father, uncle, and her mother. She wanted to scream, to protest, she wanted to go back home to Protus.

"Then rise with her, Matron Odessi." The Matron Ascendant stepped back from the table as Alidya and Odessi both held the dagger aloft. Odessi's hands clutched around Alidya's before they thrust the blade into Destin's dried out breast. Her eyes gleamed sanguine as the dead man's chest cracked inward, his ribcage rotted by the venom with which he had been murdered. Instead of blood, an ooze of viscous puss seeped through the cracks in his brittle skin. Rinatha’s stomach churned.

"Bow to your Empress!" The Matron Ascendant's voice boomed like a thunderclap, and all in the room prostrated themselves. Rinatha chanced a look towards her father, but instead of his face she saw his feet, and her heart turned to ice in her chest.

He didn't bow? He has to bow! The Knights of the Worm will kill him if he doesn't bow!

Rinatha craned her neck to see the dais. All three of the women on it were looking directly at her father.

The Matron Ascendant squinted hatefully. "Who is this dunderwhelp? Someone tell me his hearing is faulty."

"He hears well enough," her mother growled. "It's his mind that needs mending."

"This creature belongs to you, Odessi?"

"He once gave me his seed, but he’s a small minded fool and a disgrace to all our kin. He would have our great house go back to the squalor of Protus, were his will of any concern. Please, Matron, let me dispose of him myself, to atone for not keeping my servants leashed."

"No.". Everyone in the room looked to the Matron Ascendant, even the Knights of the Worm. "I'm glad he's standing defiant, as you should be. This is what Destin lived and died for. For many a year I've watched our men grow flaccid and mute. It gladdens me to see the embers in their hearts flickering again. I see your stallion bears no weapon. Is he not a fighting man?"

Her mother bared her teeth. "He's nothing more than a fungus picker. Good only for stitching breeches and heating broth."

"Intriguing. Speak, boy. Tell me your name, and what lunacy impelled you to defy the rite of ascension."

Rinatha couldn't stand it any longer. Her hand darted out and she clutched at his trousers, trying desperately to get him to bow, but he held his head high and answered the Matron with a quaking voice. "I am Laedorai of House Af'zisi, Husband Virile to Matron Odessi. I stand because there is no ascension to defy. Primus of Drow is not an empire, it's a disease, and you have gathered to honor a criminal, not an empress."

Papa, no! She tugged at him madly.

"In Protus,” he continued, “life is simple, but it is life. We do, we get, we make. What few things a person has are things they have gained for themself. Here, you all live like queens, but everything is stolen, or bought with blood. This place is a tomb, and you are a disgrace to our kin. You, that murderous child, and that scheming harpy I once loved and called wife. I would rather die than kneel to another of you treacherous cravens. I would rather die, than live to watch my precious daughter be twisted into one of you."

A river of tears filled the cracks in the floor beneath Rinatha's eyes. She didn't care if they killed her too. She pounded her fist into the ground and began to stand, only to be stopped by her uncle's hand.

"Odessi," the Matron Ascendant's voice had taken a perverse, almost lustful tone, "I see why you bred with this man. He has fire within him indeed. I name him champion to Destin Jin'par. If you will claim Destin's throne, Alidya, then you must choose a champion to defeat this man. Clear a space and give him a weapon."

"Matrons," her uncle's voice was loud, yet courteous. He'd let go of her and was standing by her father, his broadsword drawn. "I am Essenti no-Af'zisi, brother to Matron Odessi, Son of Conquest. Three Matrons have I slain, their guards cut down by my sword alone. Let me be Destin's champion. My wedbrother is no fighter. I will make for a much more pleasing spectacle."

The Matron Ascendant cackled uproariously. "Odessi, I like your house. You have such passionate men. I can only imagine how your daughter will be when grown. What say you, Laedorai, Picker of Mushrooms and Stitcher of Breeches? Will this fearsome wedbrother of yours fight for you?"

Please say yes! Please say yes! Rinatha closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could will her father to let her uncle take his place.

"No,” he said, “I will fight for myself."

Her uncle pointed down at her. "You have a daughter!"

"Yes, I do. But she no longer has a father. I'll never be more than a servant to her if I live. If I die, she’ll know what I've been kept from telling her with words. Please, Essenti, take care of her for me. You at least are allowed to see her whenever you wish". He finally looked down at her. "I'm sorry, little flame. I don't expect you to understand, but I must do this. Please, my precious child, don't become one of them. Don’t let my little flame go dark. Will you promise me that?"

She nodded, her face a tumult of shock and grief.

Essenti grudgingly handed Laedorai his sword. He held it clumsily, his big laborer's hand barely fitting within its basket hilt. The crowd parted and formed a clearing in front of the dais. Laedorai closed his eyes and drank deeply of the cold air, then strode slowly to the clearing and raised his wedbrother’s sword.

Odessi looked past Rinatha and her uncle to House Af’zisi’s fighting men. She was about to call one of them up when Alidya put a hand on her shoulder.

"Karnot!" Silver turned to black when the empress shouted the strange word.

"No," said Rinatha's mother, shocked and afraid. "It's too soon."

"No," Alidya said back, "the time is now."

The fog returned. It thickened into a faint cloud above the dais and hung there a moment, a pale vortex that spun against itself, then wisped suddenly to the edge of the hall as if blown by a hard wind. One by one the green flames in the grotesques guttered and snuffed out. Rinatha lowered her innermost eyelids, but before her heat sight could adjust a brilliant glow appeared before her father. She quickly raised her inner lids and gasped.

A wraith of blue mist was swirling through the air in front of him, wheeling faster and faster until small crystals formed and came together. They whirled into a spiraling helix, then blossomed outward into an aster of nebulous blue shards. Translucent ribs grew out of the crystalline bloom, then the bones of a neck and a skull. Luminous strands of hair sprouted from the skull and waved through the air like the hair of a drowning man. Blue fires ignited in its eye sockets, and a film of pale light washed over the glowing bones in a garish imitation of flesh. Rivers of light flowed through its ribs and ran like tears out of its eyes.

Her uncle's broadsword clattered to the floor as her father dropped to his knees. He whimpered and groped for the weapon, found it, then lurched forward and stabbed. The creature rose deftly above him, then slowly lowered, blue mist pluming from where legs should have been. A raised hand then came into being, crystalizing in the air and sending spirals of light that met with the body to form an arm and shoulder. It opened slowly, clutchingly, and with a sharp keening a sword began to take shape. Laedorai struck it before it could fully materialize, shattering the blade into a thousand blue shards that hovered in the air. The wraith hissed and hot steam vented from its mouth. It brandished another arm with fingertips as sharp as arrows. Laedorai dropped Essenti's sword and looked his wife in the eye. His mouth opened to speak, but before any words could escape his lips the monster drove its clawed hand into his chest.

Rinatha screamed as her father fell. The wraith drew a new sword from the darkness, then flew through the room, stabbing and hacking the matrons of each house one by one. Rinatha's screams were lost among the shrieks of the other drow as their leaders were slaughtered.

The Matron Ascendant turned to Alydia in shock. She dropped into a crouch and slid a hidden knife from inside her sleeve, then pounced with surprising speed. Odessi lunged forward, pulled a dagger from a sheath strapped to her thigh, plunged it into the old crone's chest and threw her to the floor. She then sheathed her blade and prostrated herself before Alidya.

"My sisters," silver blasted through the air as sharp as the tip of a spear, "do not hide your terror. Let it bleed into the air and mingle with mine. Yes, I am afraid as well. I have lived my entire life in fear; fear of death, fear of betrayal, fear of a sister's blade in the dark. I am a drow of Primus, after all, and so I thought I knew terror. I knew nothing. Then I looked into the heart of the storm, and now I am truly afraid. Afraid of the warping of our souls, afraid of drowning in the drying river of time, afraid of fading into oblivion along with the stars. But I have found the path to eternity, and all who wish may follow. A fire burns in the sky, and the Great Year returns! No more will we claw at each other's throats for short lived and petty glory. Now we are united. Now, we shall truly ascend!"

Essenti lifted Rinatha and held her close as he made his way quickly through the crowd. He pushed through with complete abandon, all the while watching for the monster that killed Laedorai. How many matrons had it butchered? He hoped there were enough left to buy them time. He reached the gate and hurried down the outer hall. Fast and faster he ran, desperate to save his niece from the mad empress and the waking nightmare she’d summoned.

He tore across the stone floor like silent lightning, hurling dirt and rocks into the air with his heels. A short way now and he would reach the stairs. There were secret tunnels in the city he’d learned of during Destin's conquest, and they stood a chance of escaping if they reached them quickly. He was near the pale gold archway when the wraith cried. It was a terrible sound that crumbled his heart. High pitched with a deep and pulsing echo, it pounded the air like a hammer, shaking blood and bone so strongly Essenti feared the walls of the cave would shatter.

He kept running in spite of his fear, not daring to stop until he reached the foot of Nadis. Sweat beaded on his brow as he looked upward. It was a long climb. He whispered his niece’s name. She whimpered and pressed her head into his chest. “Rinatha,” he whispered again, louder. She pressed into him harder. “Little flame...”. She looked at him through tear stung eyes. “Can you run?” he asked. She nodded pitifully. He set her down and they bolted up the stairway. Screams echoed behind them, then drowned to whispers as Ald’nari was shaken by the shivering wail of the wraith.