The walls of the Great Library were tall, but not necessarily defendable. They did not have a walkway like the defensive walls of Cylion, and only three towers in total watched over the land that lay in front of them. Still, they would pose a significant challenge to any military advances.

There was only one entrance to the compound, guarded and sheltered by a large gatehouse. Scouts had reported that Fateweavers were stationed both in front of the gate and in the windows and battlements above, equipped with cocked bows and spitting torches. From there, they could see their comrades in the other two towers that marked the ends of the large wall, right atop the cliffside on both sides of the grassy landing.

While not built to withstand a full-on attack, Malvorn's officers agreed that it would be difficult to breach the walls, especially with their lack of sieging equipment. While they could order their soldiers to climb them, that would make them easy targets for any defender fit enough to draw a bow. And unlike with Cylion, they would not be invited inside again — that much was clear.

#

After leaving Tavira behind, the Fateless army had taken a full day to march to the Great Library, where they set up camp in a forest just below the massive building. With the Fateweavers' only sources of support gone, they could take their time with their final assault, and so they spent another night huddled up next to roots and thorny bushes to replenish their strength, feeding on the supplies they had gathered in Tavira. It was no feast, and nowhere near the opulence of the banquets in Malvorn's palace, but the corned beef and vegetables made for a hearty meal that filled their stomachs with warmth and comfort. The sheep skins and woven blankets they had confiscated did the rest to keep the Fateless troops content, as they waited for the inevitable confrontation with their age-old enemies.

In the afternoon of the following day, it had started to rain.

It was the first rain Senya ever got to experience. It tickled, and was cold against her skin, but she enjoyed the sensation nonetheless. The wind had swept the heavy droplets right into their marvelling faces, like the stings of delicate needles, while the black sky above was roaring. And then there were giant cracks in the fabric of the world itself, like jagged beams of solidified light that tethered the dark clouds to land and sea below. It was frightening — but also magnificent. Malvorn had explained to them what the surface dwellers called these breathtaking spectacles, and their words sounded too mundane for what looked like the battleground of the gods themselves.

After an hour or so, the storm had stopped, leaving behind a landscape that looked even more vibrant than before.

#

The gray light of day was already fading when Malvorn's grim face finally awoke from its pensive stare into the flames. He had gathered all officers under a canopy of tanned animal hides stretched between the branches of haggard trees, with a fire crackling next to a rutted trunk. Naturally, Senya had been invited to join as well.

"The hour of reckoning is upon us," Malvorn breathed, and a chill breeze whipped the dancing flames.

"Tonight, we will show those wretched Fateweavers why they feared us all along. Tonight, they will wish they'd destroyed us when they had the chance. But that time is long gone. Now, we outnumber them two to one. And what's more, most of them are mere children."

A fiendish grin split his lips. "Sure, they had some training in armed combat, playing around with their sticks. But that matters not. When they see the violence of battle, hear the noise of squelched bones and the gurgling of gushing blood, they will hide under their blankets and sully their panties."

A few of the officers chuckled menacingly, with bloodlust in their eyes. Among them was Alva's murderer, and Senya couldn't help staring at him. Unfortunately, looks couldn't kill.

"First, we have to get inside their walls, though," a tall woman with a stern face interjected.

Malvorn looked slightly annoyed, but kept his temper.

"Have I ever given you reason to doubt my plans?" he asked into the round, then glared at the woman.

No one dared to respond.

"Let them hide behind their walls," Malvorn said and grinned. "We will walk right in and slaughter the lot of them."

"You really think they will be as stupid as that clown who served up Cylion on a silver platter?" the female officer asked with furrowed brows. "You really think they will invite us in through the front door?"

Malvorn's grin intensified. "Who said anything about the front door?"

He let his words be felt, then added: "No, my comrades — we will create our own entrance."

A shallow silence followed as the wind rustled in the leafless branches above them. The orange flames danced in Malvorn's eyes and made his teeth shine like gold coins. They all waited for their fearless leader to elaborate, and when he didn't, it was Senya who spoke into the quiet.

"How are we going to do that?" she asked with a calm implicitness, like she'd always been part of Malvorn's council.

A few of the men and women around her exchanged irritated glances or glared at her with blatant contempt, but Malvorn's beaming eyes made them fall silent.

"When they came into our home," Malvorn growled quietly, "they brought death and destruction in a way we hadn't expected."

It was the first time he openly admitted that the Fateweaver's attempt at murder hadn't quite gone the way he wanted it to. But in light of where they were and what they were about to do, no one even batted an eye.

"It is only polite if we bring them a surprise of our own, now that we are visiting them in their home."

A strand of his silver hair caught the flash of a crackling flame and glowed bright like molten iron. The wrinkles on his face seemed smoother than usual, almost like his quest for power was already erasing any traces of his life of hardship.

"I had our alchemists work on a little pet project of mine over the last few years," he continued in a gravely voice, "Suffice to say, they had a most impactful breakthrough right when we needed it."

Next to Senya, two of the officers started whispering, but their words got caught in their throats when Malvorn looked over.

"Don't worry — you will find out soon enough. It is a gift that is all too fitting for this particular occasion, and all too fitting to have emerged from the depths of our age-old prison. From darkness, it makes light — and with it, it brings destruction. Just like us."

He let his gaze make the round, then rested it on a small wooden box next to the fire.

"The contents of this chest are enough to level an entire tower," he rasped and put one of his armored paws on its lit.

A few of the officers started shuffling uneasily.

"All it takes," Malvorn continued, unfazed, "is but a spark."

He snapped at the flames, and the man closest to him flinched.

"We will take this present of ours to the cliff right below the north tower of their neat little wall, and we will bury the whole building at the bottom of the ocean. Every brick, every shingle, and every wretched Fateweaver will be crushed in a glorious roar of fire and flame."

Malvorn closed his golden fist with a crunching noise.

No one said anything for a long moment.

Senya could imagine what magical weapon he was talking about. She'd heard and seen similar methods during her time in the mines, but none with a force as vile as the one he described.

"What if it doesn't work?" the tall woman asked, and an awkward silence followed her words.

Malvorn sighed, then closed his eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Finally, with the force of an erupting volcano, he reached out with his hand and swiped through the base of the fire, shooting a jet of hot ash into the woman's frowning face, like a volley of flaming arrows. Within a split second, scalding debris plastered her skin, and she screamed in pain and broke free of the circle they had formed. As she wailed in pain, Malvorn casually blew some black dust off his armored gloves.

"Any other insightful questions?" he asked into the round of petrified faces.

"You will need someone to place the charges," Senya said quietly.

Malvorn raised an eyebrow. "Was that a question?"

Senya shook her head. "No, a statement. I will do it."

Next to Malvorn, two older men exchanged glances of disbelief. They startled when Malvorn clapped his hands with a loud clink.

"That," he exclaimed and pointed at Senya, "is the kind of initiative I expect. Take notes, or you will end up like that hag over there." He nodded at the woman who was kneeling on the ground a few steps away from them, with her face covered in her shaking hands.

Senya could hear the officer next to her gulp anxiously, and a satisfied smile tugged at her lips. She was already surpassing them, and it was so easy. All it took was confidence and a certain level of disregard for one's own safety, both of which she had.

"How are you going to do that? Climbing all the way over there?" the man who stabbed her mother snarled at Senya. "Are you going to use that big mouth of yours as a hook?"

The other officers chuckled briefly. Senya met the man's gaze and directed all her energy into keeping a face as solid as the rock she was about to scale.

"I'm sure your thigh bones would make for good picks," she breathed, and the fire crackled as if to prove her point.

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All eyes were on her now, and she could feel their revulsion prickle on her skin. The only one who seemed to be amused was Malvorn.

"There's an idea," he snorted, and the man Senya'd been talking to scowled. "But in earnest," their leader added. "Are you sure you are capable of doing what is needed of you?"

His dark eyes fixated on her with a probing stare.

Senya shrugged. "Believe it or not, but I'm as good a climber as you'll find. I used to get sent on death missions all the time back when I worked in the mines. This sounds like a walk in the park compared to that."

She could almost feel the mood shift — suddenly, they respected her and the skills she brought to the table. But Senya didn't care one way or the other, and so she only gazed back at Malvorn until he eventually nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Excellent," he declared. "Two of our soldiers will accompany you. See to it that they are of use. And whatever you do: don't lose our present."

He nodded in the direction of the ominous chest, and his expression hardened.

"If you do, make sure to follow it to the bottom of the ocean."

#

"This is for you," a young male soldier with curly hair said, and tried to hand Senya a sturdy rope with a metal hook at its end.

She shook her head. "I'm good."

The man looked at her in surprise, then respectfully stepped back and inclined his head. He was younger than her and definitely less tarnished by life. Next to him stood a slightly older woman, who looked equally thrilled at her assignment.

"Shall we?" Senya asked facetiously.

The two Fateless soldiers nodded stiffly, then grabbed their gear.

They marched through the encroaching darkness until they reached the edge of the forest, from where they could see the guard towers of the Great Library. Glowing light emanated from flickering torches in between the battlements, and Senya knew they all would have archers posted right next to them, with sharp arrows ready to pierce whatever fleshy target presented itself to them on the wide scrubby clearing that nestled against the tall walls.

Only, the last light of day was fading fast, and soon they wouldn't be able to see farther than they could throw a rock. Which, in Senya's case, wouldn't be far.

Still, they had to tread carefully and stay as far away from the towers as possible, even if that meant descending the cliff face far out from their destination. Of course, that increased their risk of meeting a painful death among a sharp-edged thicket of wave-whipped rocks, but to Senya that was only an afterthought. There were times when her own life had meant a lot more to her — now, she rather cared about the havoc she could wreak on those lives she deemed guilty, like her sister's.

All this time, she had tried to suppress the bitter thoughts that evolved around Nyu. In Cylion, she'd come close to letting her presence intrude into her mind, right when they struck down Vaelorian Dor. She'd managed to resist then, but now that they were about to charge into their enemies' home, she couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

Would Nyu be here, in the Great Library? Did she join their enemies? Did she finally, and for the first time openly, turn her back on Senya and her kind? And what would happen if they actually ran into each other in the hours to come?

Senya shuddered, but not from the cold night air.

They had left the treeline behind and were now crouching through a dense carpet of thorny bushes, slowly nearing the edge of the cliff. The sound of thundering waves started to fill the air, deep and ominous, but also melodic and peaceful. But there was no peace to be found tonight — they would make sure of that. And they had to. Malvorn's entire army was preparing to charge the grounds of the Great Library the moment they blew the northern guard tower off the face of the earth, and they would rain terror onto everything in their path. There was no room for failure, just like Malvorn had said — if they couldn't fulfill their mission, they were as good as dead.

She glanced over her shoulder and briefly watched the bobbing chest her two companions were carrying between them. It wasn't heavy, but they still chose to share the burden — even if it was only a mental one. Senya had been told that both of the Fateless soldiers accompanying her were capable climbers, and she believed it. No one in their right mind would've volunteered to go on a mission akin to suicide, so they had to have been chosen by qualification. Still, Senya was skeptical they would pull their weight, and she sure wasn't going to pull theirs — in the most literal sense.

Both of them carried two ropes each, with sharp hooks on them. Senya had to laugh at the sight. Back in the mines, they'd never given her any equipment. To the foreman, a good rope buried under six feet of rubble was a far more severe loss than the life of a squirmy girl. And it was not like she had to make it back to report her findings — if the shaft turned out to be unstable, they could all hear it from up top.

Senya frowned when she thought back to those times, and she wondered if those same people who had treated her life like bait on a fishing rod were among Malvorn's army. If so, she'd make sure to pay them a visit once all this was over — provided they all survived the next few hours, which was rather unlikely.

When they reached the edge of the cliff, a stiff breeze rustled their robes, and Senya could taste watery salt on her lips.

"Take out the casks," Senya instructed her companions, "We will leave the chest here."

The two soldiers exchanged weary glances, then quietly followed her orders. Within the wooden box were two small casks, each filled with Malvorn's magical weapon and outfitted with a thin piece of string about a foot long. Once they were in place underneath the base of the tower, Senya would light one of the matches she carried in her robes and ignite the fuses. In theory, there was enough time to get to a safe distance, but Senya doubted anyone had ever put that theory to the test.

She strapped one of the two casks to her back and prompted the young man to do the same with the other container. When she checked that her cargo was secured in place, she could feel a grainy dust on her fingers that shed from the wooden surface of the cask, most likely due to tiny cracks in between the bent planks. She made a mental note not to touch her mouth — whatever could destroy solid stone sure was not meant to be consumed by a human body.

Leading their small group, Senya was the first to climb down the edge of the cliff. The rock was cold and damp from the rain, and wet moss made it difficult to place her feet. Sharp edges and pointy pebbles dug into her fingers and palms, and tore at the threads of her blue robes. All the while, gushing waves roared about fifty feet below her, and icy spray would sometimes hit her feet depending on the mood of the wind.

Unfazed by the unfavorable conditions, she made her way about ten feet down the cliff, where she came to a hold atop a narrow ledge barely wide enough for her feet to stand. She looked back up at her companions, who'd been watching her descent from above.

They returned her wordless gaze with fierce skepticism, but then followed one after the other. Their movement was decent, if a bit timid. Clearly, they had more regard for their own safety than Senya, which she considered a good thing, since it would keep them from being foolish.

When they caught up to her, she gave them an approving nod.

"We will stay at this height until we reach the tower."

She gestured in the direction of the tower with her head, since her hands were busy holding on for dear life. They were about 100 feet away from their target, and they could barely see its outer wall looming above the protruding edge of the cliff. Still, Senya could envision it now — a well-placed charge would destabilize the rock under the tower's foundation and make it crash into the raging sea below. And with any luck, it would create an opening in the adjacent wall that would allow the waiting Fateless to charge inside. Or, failing that, would at least create enough chaos for them to overwhelm the main gate. Either way, it was a solid plan — provided they could fulfill their assignment.

Senya led the charge, moving along the wall with speed and precision. Despite her lack of arm strength, she made quick progress due to her light and nimble body and her conditioning in the mines of Morathen. More than once did she have to wait for her companions, who struggled to keep up with her. While she was just using her hands and feet to scale the wall, the other two Fateless were using their hooks and ropes for difficult sections, further slowing them down. She could've told them to move faster, but she didn't want their panting to alert any guards.

As they got closer to the tower, Senya could feel her muscles tense, even the ones she wasn't using for climbing. Although the tower wall was slowly hiding behind the looming cliff drop, she could sense that they were now in hearing distance — and soon after, she could even hear the guards shout at each other. Apparently, the preparations for the attack were still ongoing, which told her they'd been wise to not wait another day to make a move — even if that meant dealing with the remnants of the heavy rain that had washed over the land earlier, and made the face of the cliff a slippery and dangerous affair.

Just as she finished that thought, Senya heard the female Fateless let out a muffled curse behind her. When she yanked her head around, she could see that the woman's foot had slipped off a moss-covered rock in the wall and was dangling precariously in the salty night air. Her hands were clinging to a sharp ledge with a death grip, and her face was contorted with pain and terror.

"Shhh!" Senya hissed through the noise of the clashing waves.

The woman bit her lip as the young man quietly moved over to help her. He was just about to extend his hand to their struggling companion when Senya signaled him to remain where he was.

"Don't move a muscle!" her glaring eyes said. The man looked from her to the woman below him, then gulped and remained in place.

While the female Fateweaver's face turned from white to red, Senya listened for any signs of alarm above. Luckily, the guards did not seem to have noticed, and after about twenty seconds, she relaxed.

Then, facing the young man, she whispered: "Leave her."

He stared at her in utter disbelief.

"What?" he mouthed.

Senya's expression hardened. "You heard me. You carry the cask. We can't risk you falling as well."

He shook his head and looked down at the helpless woman.

"I can get her," he urged in a pleading voice.

Senya sighed, cursing the man for his softness. Then, she signaled him to proceed with a bob of her head.

The young man pulled the woman up until she regained her footing, then watched her as she gasped for air.

Senya waited a moment for the two of them to catch up. Right when she wanted to keep going, the woman snarled in a low voice: "You almost had me killed."

Senya stopped and slowly turned her head to face the woman.

"No," she whispered casually. "You almost had us killed. Next time you slip, you might as well fall all the way — but if you do, do so quietly."

She could see the woman's eyes fill with cold anger, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Senya had known perfectly well what she was doing. The woman could've fallen, and Senya would have been okay with it — after all, she was not carrying the other cask.

"Who even gave you command over this mission?" the woman hissed, her voice picking up in volume.

Senya snorted. "Funny you should ask — it was Malvorn himself."

The woman looked unfazed, but the young man next to her seemed increasingly uncomfortable.

Shaking her head, Senya added: "We don't have time for this nonsense."

"You are just a spoiled child," the older woman snarled in a belligerent tone.

Senya couldn't help but smile a cynical smile — no one had ever called her spoiled. There had never been a reason for other people to envy what she had. She knew the woman meant it as an insult, but to her, it felt like a bittersweet compliment.

Still, her attitude was starting to create problems.

Senya looked down at the waves, as they clashed against the cliff in a steady rhythm. Some of them were tall as buildings, and the sheer force with which they battered the stone wall sent shockwaves all the way up the cliff and into her fingertips. She watched as a particularly large wave rolled in, and just when it slammed into the rock face with an ear-shattering rumble, her hand lashed out and hit the woman's elbows. The contact itself probably hurt Senya herself more than the other woman, but it did enough to put her off balance. And as the roaring of the massive waves slowly died down, so did the muffled screams on their way to the stony bottom of the cliff.

It had taken but a second, and then everything was quiet again. To her surprise, Senya had timed her move immaculately — no one above seemed to have heard the commotion, and now only the shallow breathing of the other Fateless soldier filled the air.

Senya gave him a satisfied look.

"You have something you want to say, soldier?" she asked facetiously.

The young man hastily shook his head, and Senya nodded approvingly.

"Good. Let's finish this."

#

They soon reached the steep cliff section right below the tower. The rock was smooth and slippery here, and protruded over the heaving shoreline below. There were no good spots to place their charges, no ledges or outcroppings they could use. She could see the cornerstones of the tower base above her, but there was no way of reaching them without certain death.

As she watched the gushing waves below, Senya could hear the impatient shuffling of her remaining companion.

"Hey, curly hair," she whispered over her shoulder. "How would you feel about becoming a hero of the Fateless?"

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