He remembered so little of what had happened. The pain of the moment was so terrible that it broke his concentration every time he tried to recall the attack. His head throbbed and sharp pains shot through his face every single time his heart beat. His left shoulder also ached while his right side, just below his ribs, felt opened and exposed even though it was no longer.

Duronaht passed in and out of consciousness. His dreams were so twisted and deranged that he could scarcely contemplate them. The most consistent of them was one where his father's mutilated visage crept forth out of the shadows to screech at him, his empty eye sockets glowing silver and his jaw distending to let loose a thunderous otherworldly blast.

"I look forward to seeing you again," his father's gurgling voice whispered around his ears. Duronaht jolted as he felt splatters of a liquid on his neck. He wiped his hand over the droplets. Red and viscous, they carried little chunks of pink matter in their waters. Duronaht felt his throat turn inside out and he nearly vomited.

He awoke and felt the familiar clasp of Empress Torhess's hand. Every line felt familiar and her pulse was as true as ever.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream," Duronaht grumbled.

"Not a dream my love," she answered, her smile visible to him even through his blurred vision. "You're awake, alive, and well."

Duronaht pressed his eyes together as hard as he could to try to clear up his vision. Every pulse still caused his head to throb.

"Not that well. I still feel like shit," he groaned before opening his eyes. He instantly saw a bandage around Torhess's face, surrounding her left eye. His heart sank. "You didn't lose..."

"No," she gently assured him, her dark eyes aiding her attempts to soften the blow. "It will heal. We were all very lucky," her eyes turned down to this ground and her grip on his hand loosened. "Mostly."

A tingling shock rattled through his body. Ardnaht! His mind raced and he struggled to even summon the courage to ask. Several silent seconds passed while he examined the bedchamber as though somehow wasting his time would avoid the question altogether.

"Our son?" he weakly asked at last.

Torhess closed her eyes and squeezed his hand.

"Alive. You need to know that before the rest," she said, her lips turning inward over her teeth as she took a very deep breath. Duronaht's right eye began twitching as she paused to continue. "When the carriage tumbled, there was a large wooden splinter and he... he lost his right arm just below the shoulder."

The Emperor's jaw dropped and all breath fled out his mouth.

"It's gone?!" Duronaht gasped, his voice high and cracking.

Torhess nodded and squeezed his hand.

"I..." his voice squeaked in a vice of grief and rage. "My brother has to pay for what he's done."

"Ivaous is already working that, as I understand it," Torhess said solemnly. "Yes, he survived and recovered quickly. He's a mess of bandages, but he's back working."

"Tough bastard," Duronaht grumbled, lamenting his own infirmities.

"And his men captured the ones who did this. He's waiting for..."

"Oh, I'll gladly give the order to execute them, but nothing simple. They don't deserve it," he fumed. "I think Gorondos is the right choice to bring them those evil shits the justice they've earned."

The Empress squeezed his hand again and smiled.

"Nothing can be too terrible after what they did to our son. And they would've killed him if they had the chance."

Duronaht's face ached as the tension of his wrath swelled.

"I'll make sure their deaths are awful enough that no one will even think of trying that again," he vowed. "I think I'm ready to receive Bolgrelt and some of the others if they want to come up here. Plans have to be made to that effect. A big public execution for the city requires some time to set up."

Torhess made a motion to the Solnahtern standing by the door, who swiftly complied with the instruction and left the room to issue the summons.

"We'll avenge Ardnaht on this," Duronaht promised as he squeezed her hand. "And I'm going to see if one of our angelic friends can even possibly set right what happened to him."

"You mean... bring back his arm?" Torhess queried with a mangled tone of hope and disbelief.

"Exactly. Should be a small enough feat," he scoffed. "I've seen them do far grander things. It's not bringing back a life. It's just making flesh and bone. Surely they can do that."

"I don't know," Torhess said with a squint of her eyes. "I've never seen them do anything like that."

"Before we meet with Bolgrelt and the others, Omonrel needs to come here. He can tell us," Duronaht mumbled, his own doubts starting to build.

Omonrel had been only just outside the keep while Duronaht recovered and responded swiftly to his summons. The Sculptor Angel floated politely at the foot of Duronaht's bed while the Emperor and Torhess made their pleas to him to restore Ardnaht's arm. A broad smile formed across his ivory skin while his bright blue crystalline eyes gazed back at Duronaht intently.

"My first reaction to my Emperor is that I am immensely gratified that the Imperial Family survived this vulgar and dastardly attack," he said in a characteristically smooth tone. "As to your request, it is more complicated than I would care to admit. The mortal peoples, those who look something like you that is to say, were largely made by Vorlan himself and those who were not party to that particular endeavor are not as skilled at manipulating it."

"That can't be all there is to it," Duronaht protested. "After everything I've seen you angels do, I can't believe..."

Omonrel politely raised a hand to interrupt the Emperor.

"Jagreth made many of the world's beasts and that seems to be similar enough to me," the Sculptor offered. "I do not promise perfection, but it should grant the Crown Prince a worthy instrument that will restore much of what he has lost."

Duronaht and Torhess exchanged worried glances.

"We won't know in advance will we?" Torhess inquired.

"No," Omonrel calmly replied. "But I am sure of a good result. There is no reason for you to worry. Whatever Jagreth is able to achieve will be better than no arm at all."

Torhess's eyes shot down to the ground and her thumb rubbed over Duronaht's hand as they sat silently. Omonrel, still with a broad smile, glanced to one and then the other.

"Shall I summon Jagreth? I am certain he would be pleased to offer his assistance," the angel queried.

Duronaht sighed, his mind conjuring abominable malformed appendages where Ardnaht's arm should be. He then resolved his concerns with a thought he never expected to entertain. If it's too monstrous we can just cut it off, too.

"I'll be appreciative on anything he can do," Duronaht finally agreed. "Thank you."

Omonrel nodded.

"And I am certain Gorondos will be thrilled to deliver justice to your assailants. I assure you, their demises will be suitably terrible," he declared, a whimsical tone wreathing his words. "It will improve discipline in this city, which is important as you continue your offensive against your traitorous brother."

"Thank you again, Omonrel, for everything," Torhess said weakly.

With that, the angel departed and left the Emperor and Empress alone in Duronaht's chamber.

"Are you as worried as I am about this?" Torhess asked, breaking a brief silence between them.

"I don't know," Duronaht mumbled. "All I know is that it's all we can do. It'd be wrong to not try, for Ardnaht's sake."

Later that evening, Omonrel informed Duronaht and Torhess that Jagreth was prepared to make his attempt on restoring Crown Prince Ardnaht's arm. The hulking crimson angel chose the castle's rear courtyard for his venue. Amidst the monuments and polished stone paths, a simple heavy table sat with the Crown Prince asleep in a bundle of blankets. Three large torches surrounded the table, providing not only light but much-needed heat on that late autumn night.

Duronaht examined his son, first looking lovingly at Ardnaht's pudgy face with his little mouth hanging open, a trail of drool seeping out. He smiled at that sight before his eyes inevitably stared at the inescapable absence of Ardnaht's right arm. He considered it miraculous that Ardnaht survived the wound at all. A newborn was such a delicate creature. With resilience like that, he'll make a great Emperor one day.

Commander Ivaous, whose already gaunt appearance was even more severe fighting through his injuries, stood off to the side to observe the attempt. His unexpected appearance there drew a curious glance from Duronaht, who still struggled with the pains of his own wounds and the draughts he had consumed to tolerate standing.

"Ivaous, what are you doing here. I don't remember inviting you," the Emperor said in an accusatory tone.

"I am sorry, Your Imperial Majesty," Ivaous replied with his high voice, his yellow eyes flickering in the torchlight. "But I felt obligated as I failed your family by not preventing the attacks. It's my mission and I didn't do what was required. I would give my own life to see your son fully restored."

"Fortunately for you, it does not work that way," Omonrel joked before signaling to Jagreth. "I believe we are all gathered here now. My Emperor, do you wish to continue?"

Duronaht took a few moments to consider the balance of risks again. When he glanced again at Ardnaht's missing arm, though, the decision became clear ot him.

"Proceed, Jagreth," he instructed the Beast Master. "I have every faith in you."

The hulking angel nodded and put his hands over Ardnaht. Each of Jagreth's hands were nearly as big as the newborn and virtually entirely obscured him. Duronaht noticed that Jagreth had arranged a variety of small piles of different materials nearer the angel's body. Once the familiar pulse of the Auras released from Jagreth, the materials flowed in airborne streams toward Ardnaht's body.

Jagreth concentrated most intently, his eyes showing no sign at all of distraction. Duronaht heard a strange sound as the Auras came together, almost like the noise a person would make chewing a juicy slab of meat. It was also accompanied by a whirring and ringing he had never heard before. He couldn't tell what Jagreth was doing each second and instead elected to close his eyes until the deed was done.

It was an uncomfortable several seconds, particularly as Duronaht felt palpable disappointment from Jagreth. He didn't feel the same from Omonrel, however, which provided him with some sense of relief.

"I have completed my work," Jagreth rumbled at last, his intonation not betraying the slightest hint of how he believed his attempt had succeeded or failed. "I trust that you will find this an acceptable outcome."

Duronaht opened his eyes and stepped forward to examine Ardnaht's new arm. It was shocking to see anything there at all, much less something that seemed at first blush to be close to a normal arm. As he looked more closely at it, however, he noticed a strange leathery scaling to it, especially on the arm's underside. Ardnaht's new right hand, too, was notably larger than the his left and had long sharp nails.

"Do you approve?" Omonrel asked, his voice carrying the eagerness of a small child.

Duronaht and Torhess exchanged a tense glance where he determined she felt much as she did. He was stunned that anything had happened at all, but also disappointed that it was not closer to being something truer to Ardnaht's own body. Criticizing Jagreth and Omonrel for what they had done was unthinkable, however. His situation afforded him no such luxury. Maybe it can be refined later, anyway.

"My deepest thanks, Jagreth," Duronaht said with forced cheer. "The Empress and I are in your debt."

"I did what I was asked," he tersely replied.

"Yes, but you did it well!" Omonrel chirped, floating around Jagreth with an ecstatic air. "Now, tomorrow we can celebrate this fine achievement with the execution of those who attempted to murder the Imperial Family. Restoring the Crown Prince's arm and slaying his attackers will show the world just how pointless resisting us is."

Duronaht instantly concurred with Omonrel's assessment. He had not considered the lasting consequences.

"It will be a glorious day!" Duronaht declared.

Later, as he prepared to go to bed with Torhess, both of them in their nightgowns while Ardnaht slept in the adjoining room with several attendants looking after him, she decided be honest in her view of Ardnaht's restoration.

"It will be a mark of shame if it continues to look the way it does now. We can cover it up mostly with a shirt sleeve, but..." she trailed off. "I'm just imagining people calling him 'Ardnaht Beastarm' or something else hurtful."

Duronaht sighed, but then chuckled.

"That's actually not a bad name," he laughed.

Torhess forced a smile and then turned over on her side to blow out the candle next to her.

"Good night, my love," she said with a yawn.

He didn't soon join her, however. A combination of his excitement to exact his revenge the following day on his family's attackers, as well as his fear of seeing the same dreadful nightmares that had plagued him as he was unconscious from the attack, kept him up for much of the night.

That, however, didn't prevent him from eagerly attending the executions of the dozen perpetrators in Methrangia's central plaza. Hasty scaffolding had been drawn up both for the attackers and a separate platform for the Emperor, Empress, and the angels supporting them, including Omonrel, Elaous, and Myrvaness. He wore his full Imperial Regalia, including his heavy scepter.

The crowd, numbering in the tens of thousands, surrounding them was kept from the plaza's center by thousands of soldiers and city guardsmen. Most stared at the angel Gorondos as he floated above the ground before the platform holding the guilty. His fiery orange eyes glanced back toward Duronaht from time to time as he waited instructions.

"Citizens of Methrangia!" Duronaht began, shouting with every ounce of strength he had. He pointed his scepter toward the condemned men. "These men tried to murder your Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince in a cowardly act of high treason. Rest assured, your Imperial Family is well, but these traitors will now die miserable deaths! Gorondos, give them what they deserve!"

The crowd cheered in a deafening roar as the Flame Angel summoned forth an array of a dozen oozing flaming orbs and held them in the air just in front of each of the condemned. Gorondos waited for almost a minute before dealing the fatal blows. Each of the orbs pushed into their bodies and caused them to glow brilliantly on that cloudy gray day. The condemned screamed in agony the likes of which Duronaht had never heard before. Even the wrathful throngs surrounding the plaza quieted in the sight of it.

Just as the crowds quieted, each of the condemned’s bodies burst violently into sizzling chunks of flesh and bone, punctuated by what sounded almost like a flaming log popping in the fireplace. Each collapsed into piles of ash that eerily resembled the color and texture of Gorondos's own skin.

After a brief silent gasp that overcame the city, roars of approval came surging back. Duronaht smiled at first. Then he saw Torhess with her mouth still agape at what she had just seen. As he looked at Gorondos, who then engaged in a beautiful fire dance for the crowd, much to the city's delight, his own glee was slowly sapped away.