The Mortalitas Assassins exist in the darkest corners of the highest societies. Our numbers are few and our clients many. We provide assassins of both genders. If you can kill skillfully, efficiently, and silently, then you may have what it takes to be one of us.

The structure of our organization is rigid and strict. The Mortalitas family—my family—is in command of our band of clandestine warriors. Our bloodline is special. It gifts us with increased speed, strength, and resilience, and we can regenerate from wounds at an increased rate.

With these boons comes a sudden and growing blood thirst, a family curse that shatters our sanity and turns us into ravenous ghouls. Even I am haunted by fear of the moment when it will claim me.

- Daymion Luna Mortalitas, leader of the Mortalitas Assassins

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Like demented puppets, eerie flickering shadows played games across the walls of the keep with the rising dawn. The curtains shifted with a slight morning breeze. Slowly the hallway, with its tiled stone floor, was getting brighter as Sol and Sul rose higher in the sky.

Many doors made of sturdy wood planks lined the upper hallway of the keep, designed to fit efficiently into a straight-sided space without any artistic presumptions. One door stood out. It was bigger than the rest and fashioned from a richly hued redwood. In the center a gold-plated metal hammer was stamped into the wood.

Another thing that made this door special was that, unlike the others, two guards watched it. They were dressed in whitewashed breastplates with white-stitched, gold-edged tabards underneath. At the center of each breastplate was a golden hammer, the small size of which denoted their low rank. To complete their uniforms, each wore brown leather chaps.

Both of them were bored. The dull, white stone walls seemed to close in on them, and the lack of stimulation threatened to put them to sleep. Their boredom prevented them from catching details important to their survival.

Long, thick, wooden planks lined the ceiling, supporting it. Sunlight from the low windows did not make it all the way up to the rafters, but dust drifted lazily down and twinkled as it reached the light beams. The guards seemed almost mesmerized by the sparkling rays and were so distracted that they missed the most important detail of all: an unwanted guest.

The first guard was thin and had scraggly teeth. "'Ow much time we got lef', bucko?" he whined in an abrasive, high-pitched voice.

The other one was portly and shorter than his pal. He replied only with similar questions, asking, "When are the boys come to 'elp? We goin 'ta have ter' stand 'ere all morning?"

"Aye, at least until that high-and-mighty party inside decides it be time ter go out again," the taller man responded as he picked his teeth with a shard of wood.

"Them lads o'er near the gates was sayin' that he be some special speaker, or something such as that. Sayin' 'e be one of them 'igher ups in the order of Dol'ron, or some such duff," the shorter guard replied.

"Oy! I heard o' them. There be sixteen voices in total, one fer each o' them gods, includin' ol' Dol' 'imself.... I read that in a book once't," the thin man insisted.

"When you ever read a book?" the portly guard demanded.

"I got learnin', unlike yerself!" The slender guard tried to make himself look important by standing up straighter.

"What else yer book be sayin', then? Out with it!" his rounder partner implored.

"Said there be some kind o' special waggin' mouth fer' them gods," the thin one said, reciting what little he knew. "Ma reading be a bit lackin', so I did not make it all out."

The portly guard shrugged. "Whenever the boys decide to come, you think we are goin' ta hafter do this ever' day?"

"Yer joshin'. Who would believe yer crock of bilge?"

The larger one pushed his buddy just a bit and knocked him to the side.

"Oy!" cried the slender guard. "Don' be looking to me fer yer answers, then. 'Sides...don' matter none what them thinks nor what I think. Higher-ups like Chancellor Mariweather and her bodyguard believes 'em. That be why 'e gets 'is own room!"

The thin guard looked over toward his friend, who had been standing beside him, but he was not there any more. "You playin' a game on me, boyo?" he demanded.

The thin guard looked left and right, searching for his friend. At first he was smiling; then he realized that something was wrong. He scanned both sides of the hallway, but there was no sign of life. His eyes opened wide in alarm as he realized that his rotund friend had somehow disappeared into thin air.

A creaking noise sounded from above the guard. He looked upwards and squinted, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

"Izzat you, boyo?" he asked the rafters.

There was a flitting movement as something darted past the corner of his eye, just above him. "Who's there?" he demanded.

He strained his eyes to look to the rafters. There was something there that he could not make out.

"Who is that?"

The figure sprang down from the shadows, and the last thing the guard saw was a sinister smile full of long, ivory-hued fangs. 

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Behind the ornate door was an office with mortared stone walls and four massive beams at the corners that supported the ceiling. It was as if the room had been prepared quickly not long before. Rich furnishings had been brought in. The drapes were ornate, with golden thread woven throughout the fine silk, while rich rugs woven with the same thread covered the floors. Toward the back wall was a large desk with scrolls on it and many books held in place with gold-lined obsidian bookends. Ink quills had been set above a writing mat at the center of the desk.

A man wearing gray robes lined with gold silk, which were dotted with runes and embroidered figures of the god Dol'ron, was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the rising sun intently.

He was taller than most, with squared shoulders, an average build, and a dignified way of holding himself. His black hair was long and held in a neat ponytail with two royal-blue ribbons. A well-trimmed beard swept to a point at his chin. His face masked his inner emotions perfectly, except for an air of perpetual disdain that marred his unnervingly unblinking gaze.

He turned casually, walked around his desk, and looked up toward the rafters. "It is rude to enter another man's room without introducing yourself," he said calmly. His voice was rich and authoritative, with the tone of someone accustomed to giving orders.

A black-furred creature almost twice as tall as the man dropped down from the rafters and landed on all fours. Its body was bulky and powerful, replete with rippling muscles. Despite its size, the creature landed almost silently. It bared its fangs and stared with yellow eyes, but in the sparse light of dawn its features remained obscured.

The man stared back at the creature impassively and brought his hand to his mouth, coughing slightly. "Excuse me. How rude of me. Before we debate the nature of violence, I would like to introduce myself, as is customary before a battle. My name is Diametries Malus Aequitas, the First Speaker of Dol'ron," he said almost too politely. "And yours...?"

The creature did not respond with words. Instead it slashed out with powerful claws.

"How uncivilized. Creature, you will be fortunate to know your killer before you die," Diametries said and sidestepped with grace. His foot traced a pattern on the floor, and he avoided the attack entirely as he turned his back to the desk.

The creature responded with a brutal downward smash of its fist. The attack would have killed Diametries if he had not moved gracefully out of the way. Instead, the blow landed on the desk and collapsed it into a broken V shape.

"You attack me without provocation? How crude. You give me license to act accordingly," Diametries said.

The creature turned on him, ready to continue its assault.

Diametries clasped both hands in prayer, with his eyes still locked squarely on the attacking shadow creature. "By Dol'ron's might, I call on the threads of justice. Bind my foe to reap his just reward!" Diametries entreated.

Long, slender, golden threads of energy appeared out of thin air and shot toward the creature, wrapping around its limbs and binding them. Where the threads touched the being, they paralyzed it.

It struggled for a few moments, but when it realized that its efforts were futile, it turned its gaze back to the Speaker. It bared its fangs in a satisfied grin. "Very well done!" it growled.

"You will be a perfect vessel."

Diametries shook his head in confusion. "Creature, who are you?" he asked, but the beast collapsed to the ground.

A malevolent indigo mist flowed from the hulk's unconscious body and took a therran shape. A single misty-blue wing extended from its back. This new perversion that had manifested in the room stared full into Diametries's eyes with a glowing, deep sapphire gaze.

Diametries stared back unafraid. "I was advised of your coming," the Speaker said. "Do it!"

The creature of mist dove toward the Speaker, and the golden threads binding the hulk disappeared. Diametries slumped to the ground and did not move for a few moments as the creature passed into and inhabited his body.

After a few breaths, Diametries stood up again. A shadowy outline extended from his body, framing a single dark-blue wing. Then the wing dissipated slowly until it was gone altogether.

"You have a penchant for theatrics, I see," Diametries said, by way of congratulations. "My otherworldly contacts say that your people make contracts that cannot be broken, no matter the cost. How did you break with that creature?" he asked as he looked down at the discarded form of the hulk lying on his floor.

A hiss sounded from the dark silhouette around him. "It was…intended to be temporary...a puppet with fewer strings to cut," it whispered so quietly that Diametries could only hear it in his mind.

Diametries wagged his head pensively. "I see...and the side affects?" he asked.

The words echoed inside the Speaker's head. "Severing the spirit bond prematurely shatters the mind of the host."

"I see. And our arrangement?" the Speaker asked.

"At the end of the day your body, soul, and being are mine for the taking," it responded with excitement. "Until then you may use my power and knowledge as you see fit, to act outside the edicts of your golden god." Kestrel laughed maniacally. "Oh, how I wish to be flesh again! Do you agree to the binding of our beings?"

"I do," Diametries answered, accepting his chosen fate.

"Perfect! You are a vessel beyond compare, my lord. Today, I am yours. Do with my power as you will," Kestrel said in mock servility. "Let us have some fun!" he added with raucous exuberance.

"Hold your tongue, creature! I do not want you to distract me today," Diametries warned.

"Yes, Your Grace!" Kestrel replied, mocking him again. "My, how the pious have fallen, to ally with one of my kind. The irony is almost poetic."

"My devotion to my god is unshakable. I would sacrifice my soul for His Will. If I must lie in a bed of snakes and daemons to do that, so be it," Diametries vowed. "Sadly, the All Father Dol'ron gives me the power to act only within the bounds of justice. To fulfill my goals today, I will need to go beyond those bounds."

"You have the power that I offer for one day, my lord. At the end, your body, mind, soul, and essence become mine, and you will cease to exist," Kestrel said in a final warning.

Diametries turned abruptly. "When I communed with a representative of Dol'ron, he told me that you would know the rest of the steps of the ritual. Is this true, creature?" he asked. "The first step was translated already, and there are hints that there are two after that, and they must be performed in order."

"That knowledge to free my people was engraved into my mind," Kestrel responded without a hint of humor in his voice. 

- End of Episode -

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