Nyu was in the process of chasing a surprisingly nimble mouse when an ear-shattering explosion shook the entire tower she was hiding in. She lost her footing while vaulting over a crate and landed ungently in between a pair of vibrating wooden casks. A rolled-up carpet came crashing down on her when a stack of planks became dislodged. Its impact pressed most of the air out of Nyu's lungs, despite being nicely padded.

Hectic clinking and clanking erupted all around her as the many scattered chests, barrels, paintings, and statues started to tremor uncontrollably. Next to her, a large candelabrum began to rock on its delicate iron feet, before toppling over and crashing to the floor with an unpleasant metallic screech. The beams along the ceiling and walls were creaking like trees in the wind, and Nyu couldn't help but think back to when Elara assumed the tower to be structurally unstable. She figured they would find out within the next few seconds whether that theory proved to be true — if the thing had even been close to collapsing, the violent shockwaves that now took hold of it would surely do the rest.

When the shaking finally subsided, Nyu crawled out from underneath the carpet and slowly got up to examine her surroundings. The chaos in the storage room had turned even more chaotic, and erupting layers of decade-old dust were clouding the hazy air when the light of Nyu's half-broken oil lamp hit them.

Bells were ringing in the distance, their shrieking sound distorted by the surrounding buildings. Nyu could only imagine what was causing all this commotion — the Fateless had started their attack on the Great Library, with whatever vile weapon Malvorn had concocted.

They were her people, and yet she felt nothing but revulsion and shame. The Fateweavers sure were no saints, and their entitlement and arrogance had caused all this generational resentment in the first place, but Nyu couldn't find justification in that for all the crimes Malvorn's army had committed — and she had tried. It would've been so easy to just blindly follow his lead, like so many of the other Fateless did. A clear enemy, a clear goal — everything a simple mind yearned for. But against all odds, it had turned out that she, the thief, the renegade, had a conscience. And no matter how much she tried, she couldn't ignore this discovery any longer.

Maybe it had been the Dor siblings' mollycoddling influence. Maybe it had been Elara's empathy, or her own feelings for the Fateweaver woman, ridiculous as that sounded.

Nyu shook her head.

This was not the time for a crisis of the mind. The battle had started, and she could not just sit idly while there was fighting to be had. Conscience or not, she still enjoyed the thought of bashing a few deserving heads in.

Reluctantly, she put on the orange Fateweaver robes she'd been given. This time, more than ever, it felt like the choice of clothing was also a choice of conviction. She had decided to side with the Fateless' sworn enemy, and her appearance reflected that. To her former brothers and sisters, she would appear as nothing but another one of those they vowed to destroy. At the same time, she hoped that the Fateweavers would be too busy to identify her for who she really was and accept her in their ranks — or at least don't stab her in the back when she was trying to help them.

Of course, the tactic had its downsides. If she dressed as a Fateless, she'd have an easier time slipping behind enemy lines, where she could wreak havoc on unsuspecting victims. She considered the thought for a moment. Clearly, working covertly was more her style. On the other hand, the Fateless also wouldn't expect a Fateweaver to be armed with more daggers than limbs, which she could use to her advantage.

After a moment of hesitation, Nyu decided that for the first time in her life, she would show her true colors — even if that color did not look good on her. She would not hide behind a mask like she'd done so many times, nor wear a disguise to deceive her enemies. Instead, she would openly display her allegiance.

A surprisingly wholesome smile tugged at her lips, and a sense of purpose filled her body with energy the lack of sleep failed to grant her.

"Why does it feel good to be a fool?" Nyu ridiculed herself, with only the mice hearing her whispered words.

Once she'd stowed away all her weapons in the depths of her spacious robes, she raced down the tower staircase and unlocked the heavy wooden door that marked her confinement. With caution blown to the wind, she rushed into the night, her steps guided by distant screams and shouts from the other side of the main buildings.

The courtyard was all but deserted, and its peaceful appearance stood in stark contrast to the commotion she heard in the distance. As she wrapped around the walls that followed the cliffs on both sides of the small peninsula, the sounds of battle grew louder. Climbing over a fence between the backside of the dining hall and a decorative archway with windows that opened up over the southern coast, she reached a narrow appendix of the front courtyard. Surrounded by neatly arranged casks and crates stood a round well, and an empty pen nestled against the walls of the large stone building next to her, right underneath the tall windows that would cast colorful light onto the feasting students on sunny mornings.

As the southern guard tower came into view, she could see and hear dark figures in the distance. They were rallying in front of the tall building's entrance, and Nyu assumed them to be Fateweavers — only when she got closer did she realize that they were not. Their black and blue robes identified them as soldiers of Morathen, men and women under Malvorn's cruel command.

Nyu came to a full stop and pressed her back against the outer wall next to her, trying to hide her silhouette in the thick darkness that still lingered in this part of the courtyard.

How were they already past the outside wall? Had the defense fallen so easily? And worse yet, had she picked the wrong side?

Nyu narrowed her eyes to see what the mob of Fateless soldiers was up to. A few of them had torches that cast bright light onto their hate-filled faces, and all of them were equipped with sharp weapons. The ones in the front were putting them to good use by hacking and slashing at the wooden door at the bottom of the guard tower.

Up above, Nyu could still see a number of Fateweavers with bows and arrows, and they were shooting at everyone and no one in particular in the courtyard below — only they couldn't target the group of soldiers that had gathered underneath the ledge that held the battlements, and was about to storm their tower. Realizing their desperate situation, the defenders were shouting panicked commands with increasingly shrill voices.

Next to the tower, one of the large wooden stables that nestled against the outside wall caught fire and, within seconds, flared up like a bonfire, shining bright yellow and orange light onto the surrounding Fateless soldiers. They jeered victoriously and raised their fists to the night sky, while the animals trapped inside made cruel sounds of horror and pain that were hard to stomach.

Moments later, the group of soldiers broke through the door of the guard tower. The shouting and screaming intensified, and Nyu could hear the clashing of weapons from within the walls of the building. Finally, the first Fateless soldiers appeared at the top of the structure, making quick and gruesome work of the few remaining Fateweavers. Their death rattles hung in the air for only a moment before, again, cheering erupted among the Fateless ranks.

Taking a few steps backward to where the darkness was still untouched, Nyu considered her options. She could charge into the crowd of celebrating Fateless and cut the smiles right out of their hateful faces. While that would bring her the most satisfaction, it would also most likely end in her own demise, seeing how they would outnumber her thirty to one, with more of them closing in with every second that passed.

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Or she could retreat — but to what end? Clearly, their attack was going splendidly, and by the looks of it, the remaining Fateweavers had already retreated into the main buildings.

Whatever she did would be but a finger in the dike, and yet she had to do something. If today was the day she died, she at least wanted to make it memorable. If not for herself, then for those that would see her dismantle hoards of enemies with elegant brush strokes of her daggers, like an artist painting their masterpiece right at the end of their life.

And so she chose an approach somewhere in between. Not even trying to tread lightly, she started running back to the well around the bend. As she'd expected, a few of the Fateless had noticed the flash of orange in the dim light of the inferno they had caused, and so they chased after her.

When Nyu reached the well, she stopped and turned around. With her hands deep inside her pockets and the orange hood shrouding her face in darkness, she stood there and waited for her pursuers to catch up. She didn't know how many of them she'd pulled, but she felt reasonably confident she could handle whoever had followed her.

As the approaching footsteps grew closer, she couldn't help but notice the irony of the situation. Here she was, dressed as a Fateweaver, fighting the Fateless that tried to topple the reign of their enemy. If she was completely honest, she disliked both sides. They were both led by arrogant men with big egos and misguided convictions. But despite the Fateweavers' cruel oppression of the Fateless, they seemed to be less likely to cause mass murder — which is exactly what Malvorn had set out to do. That, combined with the fact that only one of them was presently trying to kill Elara, told her she'd made the right choice. She only hoped her family would forgive her once she sought them out back in Morathen — when all of this was over, and if she wasn't a corpse by then.

The first Fateless to rush around the corner was an older man with a black beard and a crooked nose. His robes and sword were covered in blood, his shield tinted by black soot. He carried his weapon with the prowess of a complete brute, lacking any sign of technique or finesse. Close behind him appeared two younger soldiers. In contrast to the older man, Nyu could immediately tell they'd received proper training at some point in their lives, which would make this encounter a lot more interesting. What she could've gone without, though, was the other three soldiers who rounded off the group chasing her.

She'd faced tougher odds than one to six, but it all depended on the skill and timing of her opponents. If they came at her one after the other, they'd be easy pickings. If they coordinate their attacks, however, even the most skilled duelist would struggle. What's worse was that the last Fateless to join the half-circle of soldiers was not even Senya's age — and Nyu had made a rule out of not killing anyone younger than herself. The boy was wearing robes too large for his skinny shoulders and a sword he could barely hold up. His expression spoke of juvenile defiance, like he was out here to prove to everyone that he had what it took — but the only thing he'd prove would be that he was a proper fool.

The man with the long nose let a smile distort his ugly features.

"Look what we got here," he sneered. "A little lost Fateweaver."

The others chuckled, especially the young boy.

"You," Nyu snarled and pointed at his soft face, tilting her head so he could see her eyes. "Leave."

The boy stared at her for a moment, unsure what to say. When he noticed that his comrades were watching him in confusion, he frowned.

"Don't even talk to me, Fateweaver scum," he squeaked.

Nyu sighed. "Why do they never listen?" she whispered more to herself.

The boy seemed even more offended, and before she knew it, he started charging at her, his weapon awkwardly dragging behind him, almost tripping over the seam of his dark blue robe. The cheering of his fellow soldiers came to an abrupt halt when Nyu buried one of her daggers hilt-deep in his left temple. His face was only a few inches away from hers, and she could feel his last breath on her skin. When she retracted the blade, he fell to the ground like a lump of coal, where his twisted head started to sully the muddy soil with crimson blood. Eventually, she came to realize, she had to start killing people younger than her anyway.

"Blasted —" the old man began, but couldn't finish his sentence before Nyu lunged at him and effortlessly cut his throat.

Now in the middle of the pack, she was surrounded by the remaining four Fateless soldiers. The two of them who seemed capable of wielding a weapon were the first to attack, coming at her from both sides. One of them went high, the other one low. Nyu acknowledged their coordination as she side-stepped both, watching their blades as they whirred past her forehead and thigh. Too late did she realize that one of them had been a feint, as the woman behind her hit Nyu's shoulder with the pommel of her sword. Nyu ignored the pain that shot through her upper body and launched her other arm at the attacker. The woman was fast, but not fast enough, and so the dagger cleanly penetrated the side of her neck, right above where her armor plates started. As she collapsed into a pile of blue and red, Nyu whirled around and hurled one of her knives at the soldiers standing furthest away. Utterly surprised by the attack, the man stared at the dagger in his upper chest with the curiosity of a child. Then, he dropped onto both knees and collapsed forward, driving the blade deeper into his exposed flesh.

Nyu nodded approvingly as the arrows slid out of the quiver on his back — as she expected, this one had been wearing light armor.

The last two Fateless soldiers instinctively stepped backwards, both holding up their weapons as if that could save them. Nyu tossed back her hood and gave each of them a fierce glance. Their faces looked like anyone in Morathen — she could've seen them before and wouldn't even know it. Maybe they'd met as children, maybe they were friends with someone she knew. Nyu would find no pleasure in killing them. She'd killed other Fateless before, but never because of what they were — only because of what they did. These two didn't look evil, and whatever malice had taken hold of them had been cleansed by deadly fear. Nyu didn't have anything against them personally — only right now, they were on the wrong side of the battle, and that was their only fault.

Just when she prepared to finish this miserable business, she could hear heavy footsteps and the sound of loud voices drawing closer. Seconds later, another group of at least five soldiers appeared around the corner. They looked more serious than the first batch she'd dispatched, and it sounded like there were even more of them on the way.

Nyu straightened her posture and looked around, while reinforcements bolstered the half-cycle in front of her. They watched her with grim eyes and looming weapons, acknowledging the four dead soldiers around her and determined not to join them by acting too eagerly.

Nyu sighed, then raised one of her daggers above her head. Expecting a throw or charge attack, the Fateless in front of her raised their weapons and shields — needlessly, as Nyu thought. She brought the dagger down with speed and precision, slicing through the lower third of her robe from her thighs downwards.

The soldiers exchanged confused glances while Nyu inspected her work.

"Better," she whispered and slowly pulled the hood over her head.

She gave the knife a probing look, then hurled it at one of the tall glass windows above them with as much strength as she could muster. A second later, a storm of glass shrapnel rained down on them, cutting and slicing through exposed skin like a mountain lion. The Fateless soldiers screamed in pain and surprise, barely noticing how Nyu charged at the empty pen and leaped into the air. Her nimble feet skipped over two wooden poles that framed the low fence before propelling her body all the way up to the lower edge of the broken window.

Shards of glass dug into her hands as she searched for anything to hold on to. When she succeeded, she could feel warm blood run down her forearms. Ignoring the pain, she pulled herself up until she sat on the windowsill like a cat.

With an amused smile, she peered down at the group of Fateless soldiers. Their stunned faces looked almost comical, their open mouths fit for birds to build a nest in.

Without waiting for them to come up with any clever thoughts, Nyu slipped inside the building, dampening her fall only marginally by landing on one of the large tables in the dining hall. It creaked and bent, but didn't break — luckily, the same could be said for her legs.

She remained hunched over for a moment, listening for the soldiers' reaction.

After a moment, one of them growled.

"Leave her, she's not worth it." Then, he added: "Let her hide like the rest of them — we'll come for them either way."

And with that, Nyu could hear heavy footsteps as the soldiers turned to leave, ready to join the rest of Malvorn's army.

The battle had only just started, and it already felt like they were losing.

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