Senya's ears harvested the distant screams that echoed through the night as the rich fruits their plan had borne.

Malvorn's attack was well on its way, and her contribution had made it possible. She felt powerful, accomplished, even — and the rage inside her mixed with biting ambition. The more she fed it, the more it demanded, like the two soldiers she had sacrificed in fulfillment of their quest.

The explosion had been stronger than expected. The searing shockwave it hurled at her almost ripped her off the face of the cliff, even at the safe distance she managed to get to. Through the smoke of fire and rubble, she watched as the top of the cliff, the base of the tower, and all its upper levels slid past her, shaking the earth with their massive weight that now crushed every rock in its path. When the mountain of stone, earth, and wood crashed into the raging sea below, the waves ravenously buried the lot of it under pillars of gushing water, the tips of which almost reached Senya's feet. It was a spectacle to behold, like a cruel display of nature's force — only they had forced nature's hand.

There had been no screams from the Fateweavers trapped inside, but then again, they would've been drowned out by the deafening roaring of falling debris. The young man who'd set off the charge had been blown to a million pieces, scattered to the wind like salt in the sea. Despite what he might have thought in the last moments before his mind was vaporized, no one would ever learn of his heroic sacrifice. But Senya was grateful for his naivety all the same. All too willingly did he let himself be talked into taking the fall, making her life a lot easier — coercing him would've been much harder.

She never even considered setting off the charge herself, for she didn't have the slightest desire to become a martyr. That said, the Fateless' apparent desire for leadership might make them see a hero in her now, especially when she returned victoriously from her mission and the battle was won. Of course, she only cared for their admiration as long as she could use it to her advantage.

#

On the way back, Senya didn't bother reaching a safe distance from the wall before climbing over the ledge of the cliff. After all, the tower and all its archers were gone — she had made sure of that. When her feet touched the scrubby grass of the landing in front of the Great Library, there were still masses of Fateless streaming through a large breach in the defensive wall, right next to where the tower had stood. Archers were standing in the back row, letting loose volley after volley of swift arrows that whirred through the air and landed somewhere past the front of the battle.

Screams of pain and joy filled the night sky as Senya merged with the stream of Fateless on their way to the breach. Unlike them, she didn't wear any armor to speak of — it would've been way too cumbersome during her climb. And while they were carrying long swords and heavy shields, she was only equipped with the dagger Malvorn had given her, safely secured on a thin leather belt. She looked nothing like a soldier, like she didn't belong in the middle of a battlefield, and yet her most recent success had instilled her with the strongest armor of them all — confidence. When she strode through the rows of soldiers, they soon cleared a path for her. Either they recognized her by now, or they just felt her radiating aura. Senya couldn't tell which version she liked better.

When she climbed up the pile of rubble and debris she'd created, she was met with the pungent smell of death. Multiple layers of corpses plastered the back side of the breach, where their forces and the defending Fateweavers had fought over every inch of ground. Orange and blue figures lined the floor of the courtyard, half submerged in a maroon mixture of mud and blood. Orphaned weapons lay scattered about, forming new bonds with the occasional severed hand. Wounded Fateless soldiers were being carried off to the side of the breach, where they had formed a makeshift medical station, their means of treatment primarily consisting of alcohol and amputation.

Further up ahead stood Malvorn amidst a crowd of soldiers, pointing at the large gate of what appeared to be the entry hall. Senya's gaze followed the structure of the building all the way up to its impressive heights, with its towers and alcoves that loomed dark against the night sky. The Great Library sure had weathered a thousand thunderstorms, but it was about to succumb to this one — a man-made storm, with lightning in the form of discharged rage.

After descending the pile of dead bodies, she carved through the commotion in the courtyard until she reached Malvorn. When he saw her approach, he dismissed the two soldiers he was talking to with a wide grin on his face. As they left, they stared at Senya with an expression of awe and admiration — they knew.

"I wasn't sure you'd return," was the first thing Malvorn said, crossing his golden fists in front of his massive chest.

Senya shrugged and gestured at the chaos surrounding them. "I couldn't possibly miss out on this."

Malvorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled wholeheartedly.

"Do you smell that?" he breathed, and his expression got more serious.

Senya let the foul odor fill her nostrils.

"Smells like burning flesh and men wetting their pants."

A sly smile tugged at their leader's lips, and he opened his eyes.

"That's the smell of victory."

Senya curled her lips. "I could make do without."

Malvorn examined her for a moment, then asked: "Your companions?"

"Dead to the depths," she said casually.

Malvorn nodded. "Then your success is all the more commendable."

They fell silent for a moment and watched as their soldiers prepared for the final stages of their attack. Soon, they would breach the large gate the remaining Fateweavers were hiding behind, and there would be carnage inside these ancient walls. They would kill every orange figure they saw, and maybe more.

"When you came to me," Malvorn said quietly, "you were but a sewer rat without purpose and vision. You were weak, vulnerable — you are not that woman anymore."

His words reached right for the innermost core of Senya's soul, and they resonated with her. The very fact that they didn't upset her was proof enough that she'd evolved into a stronger version of herself. She still felt the rage stirring within her, but she found ways to channel it into something useful — power.

"I promised you revenge," he continued, "and you are about to find it."

He looked at her with malice in his eyes. "Your sister is here — within these wretched walls."

Senya could feel a blistering heat rush through her body, all the way into the far reaches of her fingertips.

"How do you know that?" she asked callously.

Malvorn smirked. "A few of our soldiers encountered a rather capable fighter, a woman with hair just like yours. She cut down four of our men and could've killed more. But she fled inside, like the rest of these rats."

So she had truly joined the enemy, Senya thought, and clenched her fists. She could feel Malvorn's probing eyes on her as he watched for any signs of empathy or regret. But there were none — at least none that he could see.

When she didn't respond, Malvorn added: "When your revenge is complete, you are free to leave — you have done what I asked of you and more. And I have held up my end of the bargain." His jaw started grinding. "Stay, and you will truly learn what the word power means. There will be a need for people like you in the empire I'm about to create."

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Their gazes met. There was nothing more to say, so they didn't. Instead, Malvorn called one of the officers with the flick of his wrist. Senya recognized the man from earlier — only now he was too shy to even look her in the eyes.

"Have you done what I demanded of you?" Malvorn asked coldly.

The man nodded stiffly.

"Good," their leader rasped. "Begin."

Senya could see that the remaining Fateless had not been idle in her absence. By the looks of it, they had cut done one of the large trees in the woods below the landing and turned it into an oversized spear, with many smaller crossbars strapped to it with thick ropes they had salvaged in Tavira's harbor. About thirty feet long, the construct was now being positioned right in front of the main gate, one strong man on each side of every bar. About thirty of them, divided into two columns, had the ram hover about a foot above the muddy ground, with its pointy end almost touching the massive portal doors. Illuminated by torchbearers and soldiers with drawn weapons, they were patiently awaiting Malvorn's signal.

Their leader stood at the very end of the massive spear, his golden fists joined together as if in prayer. The silver strands in his hair were glistening in the light of the many fires that were still smoldering in the courtyard, and his pale face radiated like the distant moon above, emerging from behind a cover of clouds and smoke.

"When this gate falls," Malvorn roared into the night, "there will be no mercy!"

He drew a deep breath.

"There will be no hesitation, no faltering! There will be no more oppression by a false god and the acolytes that act as his slaves!"

Shouts of agreement filled the courtyard.

"There will be no more hiding in darkness, no more living on scraps!"

As the crowd grew louder, so did Malvorn.

"There will be no more fate, no more Fateweaving! And most important of all: there will be no Fateweavers!"

The entire army erupted into an ear-shattering battle cry that would've spread fear in every corner of the Great Library. Their ecstatic screams bounced off the surrounding walls and made the ground tremor, their expressions filled with bloodlust.

"Breach!" Malvorn roared over the frenzy, and the soldiers manning the ram did so without hesitation.

Kept in sync by one of the officers in the front, they all took a step forward and slammed the massive lance against the door. It creaked menacingly but didn't give in.

"Again!" shouted the man leading the charge, and so they repeated the process while the surrounding soldiers cheered them on.

The rattling of the portal wings grew louder with every devastating blow, and soon the wooden planks started to splinter right where the tip of their ram kept boring in. The men's faces were soon covered in sweat, and their features distorted by exhaustion. But still, they kept going, as if threatened with invisible whips. Senya knew by now that Malvorn's presence always had that effect on people.

Soon, they could see light coming from within the building, accompanied by hectic shouts and the sound of furniture being pushed around. They knew they had only moments before the black and blue tide would rush inside, crushing everything in its path.

"Breach!" the man in the front shouted, and the men behind him pushed forward with all the strength they had left.

The ram drilled into the crack in the door with brutal force, pushing planks and iron bolts aside like they weren't even there. The massive portal creaked, its wings fighting the urge to swing open with every wooden fiber, yearning to release the tension they were resisting so valiantly.

Then, finally, with a deafening crunching noise, they gave in.

Both sides of the door swung open like a ruptured dam, crashing into their anchoring and breaking free of their hinges. When they hit the floor to either side of the entryway, a layer of dirt and dust shot into the air and covered the gaping hole in the front of the building behind a dark mist. The men on the ram toppled over when the resisting force finally subsided, and were now hastily retreating behind the lines of armed soldiers that stood ready to charge into the heart of the Great Library.

For a long moment, they just stared at the breached portal, waiting for Malvorn's golden fist to drop. Their leader stood off to the side of the frontline, staring at the mist with an expression of eagerness but also military caution. There was no telling yet what would await them inside, especially since the defenders seemed to have put out all torches right before the door had given in. Now, there was only a black hole in front of them.

"Prepare!" Malvorn shouted, and the soldiers readied their weapons.

Senya could see that not all of them had retained the hunger for blood that Malvorn tried to instill them with. Here and there, furrowed brows and pursed lips spoke of fear and nervousness. Not all of them would make it, especially not the ones in the front row — and some of them seemed to come to that conclusion right this moment. Only it was too late.

"Charge!" Malvorn roared into the blackness of the opening, and the courtyard drowned in an ocean of belligerent screams.

Skipping over the ram that lay in the mud like their fallen comrades, the blue-robed mass of Fateless soldiers charged through the entry gate, pushing back the darkness with their raised torches. Senya took a step forward — not to join them, obviously, but to see what resistance they were facing.

Right in front of the masses that pressed through the archway lay a balcony framed by two bending staircases, similar to the dining hall in Malvorn's palace. On every other step stood Fateweavers with their weapons drawn, ready to use the height advantage to stop them from advancing. Above them, right behind the marble balustrade, stood two rows of archers — only they had their bows on their backs and were holding long ropes in their hands. Ropes that were taut and disappeared somewhere in the dark heights of the entry hall. A purple-robed figure stood off to the side of the first row of archers, one hand held up high. Before Senya could make sense of what she saw, the Master atop the balcony shouted something inaudible and brought their arm down like they were chopping a log in two. One after the other, the archers leaned backwards, pulling hard at the ropes in their hands. A split-second later, large objects started falling from the sky, crushing the first rows of Fateless soldiers under their immense weight. Panic erupted among the troops, as some of them pushed forward and others tried to flee backward. The two streams collided right behind the threshold of the entryway, where more and more objects kept crashing down on them, breaking shields and bones alike.

"Forward!" Malvorn shouted from outside, his voice now soaked in rage. "Forward!"

Senya narrowed her eyes to see what was turning their troops into pulp, but she wasn't sure she could believe what she saw — they were … paintings. Paintings with massive wooden frames, intricately crafted, and now used as a weapon against them. The archers had not shot their arrows at them, but at the paintings up above, connected to ropes they were now using to collapse the entire decoration of the front wall onto their enemies.

A smile tugged at her lips as she admired their creativity.

"Forward!" Malvorn roared next to her, taking a step in the direction of the stream of soldiers.

Hearing the lashing of their Master, the soldiers saw no choice but to do as he demanded of them. Climbing over the shattered paintings and their fallen comrades, they pushed further into the entry hall, trying to reach the bottom of the staircases where they could finally put their swords to got use. The bulk of them was halfway there, with paintings and tapestry still crashing down on them, when the purple-robed Master signaled the back row of archers. They, too, were holding on to ropes, but they all seemed to converge on the same spot high above.

"Now!" she could hear the purple figure shout.

With a horrid scream of shattering glass and metal, a massive chandelier buried at least thirty soldiers underneath its immense weight, leveling another twenty bystanders with a volley of glass shrapnel that shot in all directions. Screams of pain filled the entry hall, and the progression of their soldiers came to a halt once more. The archers on the balcony now cocked regular arrows from their quivers and started shooting at the disorganized attackers, ripping through fabric and flesh with well-placed projectiles.

Their losses were already tremendous, but Senya could tell the defenders had exhausted all their tricks and were now reverting to traditional warfare. And Malvorn realized it, too.

Letting out a frustrated scream, he angrily pushed aside the soldiers in front of him and charged into the breach, his unprotected head clearly visible for everyone around him.

"Forward!" he shouted, raising his golden fists up high.

The men around him saw their leader recklessly coming to their aid, and it sparked newfound confidence in them. Joining Malvorn's battle cry, they started charging forward, ignoring the thicket of arrows and falling debris that was trying to hinder their attack. And indeed, Malvorn was the first to reach the bottom of the left staircase, where he crushed the ribcages of two Fateweavers at the same time with one hand each. As they collapsed onto the steps in front of him, he leaped over their twisted bodies and was already facing the next pair of defenders. Inspired by his bravery, the other Fateless soldiers rushed up the stairs behind him, slaughtering everyone Malvorn left standing. The progress at the other staircase was slower, but soon they also broke through the first rows of defending Fateweavers with the sheer force of their numbers.

When Malvorn reached the balcony, he carved through the shuffling archers like he was clearing weeds. The purple-robed figure, a woman, as Senya could now see, hastily grabbed an arrow from her quiver, ready to shoot Malvorn point-blank. Right when she pulled back the string of her bow, the rampaging leader of the Fateless came within arm's reach. The woman managed to release her arrow, but it just bounced off his chest plate like a toy. Then he grabbed her roughly by the neck and lifted her high into the air, for all his followers to see. Seconds later, she came crashing down onto the cobblestone that lined the bottom of the entry hall, where she lay broken like the many raptured paintings.

Poetic, Senya thought.

Then, adjusting the knife on her belt, she followed the remaining Fateless soldiers inside.

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