Dere hadn’t thrown a knife in almost five-hundred years. The last time he’d thrown one, he’d nailed Horon in the eye with a butter knife over a drunken dispute, a memory he liked to think about whenever he fell into a particularly bad mood. Were he in less of a hurry, he might have thought about the rust that might have built up over the years. He might have hesitated, but he was in a hurry. So, instead, he just threw it. Good thing too because he still had it. The knife flew true and hit the distortion on its outer edge.

For a second, an odd silence ensnared the room. A few stunned onlookers turned to gape at Dere, confused. Then, a terrifying shriek filled the air. All eyes turned to look behind Maurius where an inhuman, high, whining sound assaulted any nearby ears. A knife protruded out of a creature made from nightmare. It was houndlike, in the most basic of ways. It stood on six crooked legs. Its head, which sported hundreds of needle like teeth in a gaping mouth, hung low to the ground. The thing’s body was translucent, revealing an unnatural set of organs that throbbed to a rhythm not of this world.

Screams of sheer terror filled the main tent. Guests sprung from their chairs, heading as far away from the creature as they could manage. Some of the guards and Blessed reached for their weapons, hoping to save their Highlord. They wouldn’t be in time. The creature snarled at the knife sticking out of its shoulder and jumped at Maurius. Needle teeth prepared to rip into tender skin. They never reached their target. Before they could, Maurius thrust his hand forward and a jet of scorching flame flew out and seared the beast on its side. It knocked the monster off its trajectory and elicited another maddening screech. Smoke filled the air as the tent caught fire. Guests scrambled for the exit. Men pushed women and children aside to get out faster. The beast, reeking of charred flesh, turned pale eyes upon Maurius. It tensed to leap but never got the chance. Florian, who had been one of the first to rise from his chair, held out his hand and muttered a silent prayer. From the table, a hundred knives rose into the air and propelled towards the beast. With one sickening squelch after another, they impaled into its soft flesh. The monster managed one last murderous look before it collapsed to the ground, dead.

While the monster had breathed its last, the panic didn’t halt. Fire consumed the cloth tent and threatened to trap everyone inside. Maurius, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, stared at the beast in front of him like he was in some kind of trance. Eventually, something seemed to snap him out of it, and he looked around. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he held two arms to his chest and prayed. The fire halted and then travelled from the cloth walls of the tent into Maurius’ embrace. It flowed into him, disappearing when it touched him. A minute later there was only smoke. Not even a single ember remained.

Dere, who hadn’t bothered to move since he’d thrown the knife, watched Maurius from his spot on the table. The man seemed lost in deep thought, scanning the crowd, like he expected another monster to leap at him from the gaping mouths of one of his guests. After some time, he summoned his booming voice. “I’m calling a war council. I expect every capable Blessed here to come.” Deep brown eyes surveyed the room once more, lingering on Dere longer than anyone else. Then, Maurius turned and left, through the smoking hole he had created.

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“How did you know?” Maurius almost hissed the words out. They were sitting in a tent adjacent to Maurius’ personal one. A large table, covered with maps, provided the spacious war tent’s only decoration. Dere leaned back in one of the provided chairs around the table. Other Blessed, several of them from Maurius’ personal staff, sat stiff-backed in the other chairs. All eyes were on Dere.

“How did I know to save your life, you mean?” Dere appeared unfazed by Maurius’ intensity.

“How did you know?” Maurius repeated, a near madness edging into the corner of his dark eyes.

Dere sighed. “I saw it. Well, that’s not quite fair. Arlette saw it.” Dere nodded his head towards Arlette, who stood, arms crossed, in the opposite corner of the tent. “I just knew what it was. So, I acted and, by doing so, saved your life.”

“What was it, then?” Asked a stout middle-aged woman with grey speckled brown hair. Everyone looked at Dere expectantly.

He sighed. “A Kibra. It’s a… well… let’s just say it’s a monster. Much like the faceless men.” The assembled Blessed began whispering to one another. Maurius abstained from the conversations, choosing instead to level a suspicious gaze in Dere’s direction. Dere met the man’s intense stare with a slight smile.

Maurius shook his head and broke the contact. He surveyed the room for a second before turning back to Dere. “Was it Duval’s?”

“Probably.” Said Dere, shrugging.

“Will he have more?”

“Almost assuredly.” The quiet whispers continued. Dere caught scraps of the conversation. They were worried. Maurius’ most powerful Blessed were afraid. They didn’t know how to stop a beast they couldn’t see. The ease with which most of them lived their life, the security that the blood of a god provided, seemed somewhat shallow now.

“Silence!” Maurius bellowed. The room obeyed his command. He closed his eyes. “All this does is force an early hand. We can’t be out in the open anymore. The time for dawdling and argument is over. We need a stronghold, and we need it now. We’re moving to take Karn tomorrow.”

“But, sir,” One of the Blessed on the edge of the room, a thin sickly looking man well past the prime of his life, whispered. “The men are not ready. Karn’s a fortress. If we try and take it…”

“Make them ready.” The callousness of the words rang throughout the room. Dere raised an eyebrow, almost a little impressed.

Markus, who had been frowning since Maurius made his declaration, stepped forward. “If we attack the city, it could put Marcella in danger. I won’t allow that.” Maurius turned angry eyes upon Markus, but Markus wouldn’t back down. The tension between them escalated as neither looked away. Dots of sweat started appearing on Dere’s brow, and he realized that the temperature was actually rising.

“We’ll need to secure her, then.” Arlette spoke up, breaking the tension that gripped the room. Markus and Maurius turned away from each other and towards her.

“What do you mean?” Markus asked.

“Using the opening the siege provides, a few people should enter the city and secure Marcella before the battle begins. That way, we can avoid putting her in unnecessary danger and remove any leverage they might try to use her for. I will, of course, be one of the people charged with rescuing her. I’ll need some help, though.” She looked at Dere, expectantly. The others followed her gaze.

Dere rubbed his face and groaned. “Because of course it’s me.”