The choir transitioned from a deep rumbling harmony into an almost roar. Everyone stood from their seats and joined in. the glass panels in above them brightened as if absorbing the light of the gems stones. The light consumed the area so much so the panels were no longer visible.

Tiny lights akin to fireflies came up from the circle and swirled about the eight thrones. Massing around the dwarf upon the throne of Koratal. They enveloped the dwarf, violet light pushed through the gaps between. Pain and agony shook the air as the fireflies devoured the flesh of the dwarf. 

The bloodied skeleton fell forwards from the throne and the light within the pearlescent stone dimmed to nothingness.

Karolus held his stomach and put a hand over his mouth, doing everything he could to stop himself vomiting.

Cheers of a sort went up and around the dome. The choir increased its tempo. The site of the blessing being rejected stirred the bloodlust of the spectators. 

Tarik ignored the site but his body reaction was one of a person who had seen it many times. He stood and put a hand on Karolus' shoulder. Sensing the highlander was now expecting the same to happen to his brother. 

“Calm is needed now.” Tarik said.

“What if …” Karolus started.

“Calm Karolus, take deep breaths. Connor will be safe.” Tarik squeezed.

Karolus turned to look down at Connor who had not batted so much as an eyelid at the sight of the corpse. In fact he looked proud, as if the corpse was greeted with great joy regardless of the outcome. 

“Take the way we came back down. You will be able to make your way onto the Thronus.”

Karolus nodded.

“Then what?”

“Get close to Connor, you won’t be stopped.”

The highlander nodded and stood. 

Connor sat upon the throne of Agamas with his shoulders back and posture perfect. The now blue fireflies amassed around the youth, splitting themselves equally to each of his flanks; two war horn shapes were made by the fireflies. 

The Tharros ritualists moved through various incantations, using the massive choir to determine the speed and ending of their castings. Connor stood from the throne and put his arms out to either side. Each of the small lights dimmed and fell to the grounds leaving no trace of anything physical. 

To his left and right all the pearlescent thrones lost their light and the choir sang slowly. Adding a building drama. 

Agamas throne remained, solitary. Connor looked toward it, feeling a pull to sit upon it again. But something pulled in his mind. To turn to a brother, to look back and witness rolling hills and dark green forests. 

He shook his head and sat. Immediately the throne pulled to the centre, the ritualists moving like a carousel around him. Sea green energy now poured from the dragon folk performing the ritual. Several flows of arcane light tethered from them to Connor. 

The young highlander arched his back as the magic rushed through him, setting his very blood on fire. Pain overwhelmed his mind and nerve endings. He cried in agony, gripping the throne. 

The singing continued as did the incantations. Spectators roared in unison.

Connor started to spasm, muscles becoming incredibly tight, bones on the verge of snapping. He repeated over and over again, fight, fight, fight.

Karolus ran down the stairs, panic trying to beat his heart clear out of his chest. He had no other choice than to trust Tarik. 

He had spoken the truth, none of the guards made movement to stop Karolus getting to the Thronus. They also didn’t move out of his way, so he stepped awkwardly past the archways and to a corridor leading to his destination. 

It was a heat that rushed over him, a stifling feeling similar to that of high summer. But it was very different, ancient and twisted. 

Karolus moved cautiously up a tunnel, it dulled the cheers and the choir. He felt underwater for a moment. He felt his anxiety clawing its way to the surface. He was thankful that feeling it coming made him angry and he stayed on track. 

At the other end of the tunnelled corridor he saw the Thronus up close. It was the most confusing thing he had ever seen. Now a few steps from it he saw or didn’t see any ritualists, just spaces taken up by masses of arcane light.

On the remaining throne he saw Connor writhing in pain and he sprinted to his side. Karolus did everything he could to try and hold on to his brother. It was as if the palms of his hand were stuck to the throne but the rest of him was doing everything it could to get off the throne. 

“Connor, I’m here Connor.” 

“Fight, fight, fight…” the faint whispers repeated.

“Yes Connor fight, with everything you have!” Karolus encouraged. 

Blue scales the colour of Kyanite broke across Connors skin like an angered rash. Then they faded into nothingness. This happened again and again. Tears streamed from both brothers.

“Fire! Ma!” Connor stood and with increased strength half threw Karolus several feet through the air. 

Karolus hit the ground and quickly got up as the glyphs on the ground burnt his flesh to the touch. Looking at Connor standing above him his mouth hung open, fear and awe reflected in his eyes. 

A six foot Kyanite Vendari brimming with towering power. Deep blue scales, bone ridges protruding from the forehead and across the scalp. Reaching out in front of them with thickly muscled arms. The voice was as if forged by mountains but Karolus heard through it to the scared tone of his younger brother. 

The previously tether of arcane energy from the ritualists dissipated and heavy iron booted feet marched in and surrounded the Thronus. Swords drawn and shields all locked in place creating a barrier of Samos and iron. 

Connor started to dart backwards and forwards across the glyph covered floor. Fearful of the soldiers he didn’t know what to do, where to turn. His sobbing was a strange broken stone sound. 

“Karolus?” his eyes made contact with his older brother and dropped next to him. 

The brothers embraced and despite the massive form of Connor he was very much the one looking for comfort. 

The choir was at its peak, those watching on were roarings, howling and generally screaming with whatever emotion they were going through now. 

“I’m here Connor I’m here.” Karolus shushed and stroked the scaled forehead.

“The house is on fire, Ma is in there…..where are we? I wanna go home, please can we go home?” Connors massive head pushed into his brother's chest.

It took everything Karolus had not to break, his heart ached so much for his sibling in this moment. The power radiating from Connor was wild, untamed, now he knew why there were so many soldiers. They were here for Connor, a precaution against the possibility he turned on them.

“Yes, we can go home.” It's all Karolus had. Anything else would only further the lie, as right now he saw no way home.

Tarik approached the House of the Bastion seating area. His eyes locked on to Sofi. She sat in full Ebony Vendari form. Emerald eyes stared back showing immediate distrust. Beside Sofi was the head of the house. Silvered scales with oil black markings across the brow and cheek bones. Prince Anna’Talia smiled a toothy grin at Tarik as he approached. 

“Greetings Ruby child. It seems we have an Agamas among us now. “ The voice was old and filled with the possibilities of wisdom and every sound. 

“Unfortunately yes.” he stood around five feet from them and never took his eyes off them.

“Don’t be so negative. Listen to the song of the Vendari. They welcome the Booming Voice.” the Prince spoke with an edge of euphoria. 

“And the Declaration of War?” he reminded.

“Well that is a tale that only time will allow.” answered Anna’Talia. 

Tarik nodded and chanced a look beneath. The soldiers were all around the Thronus now and since Connor had not died it meant the blessing was successful. He saw the highlander brothers embracing one another. 

“I have some unfortunate news for Prince Anna. Connor will be leaving the island soon.” Tarik adjusted his back foot an inch.

Sofi shifted in her seat, leaning forward with betrayal in her eyes, sensing Tarik was about to do something stupid.

The Prince seemed unphased.

“Oh really. Pray tell how you think this will happen?” Anna was happy to play on Tariks insanity.

“It starts with the death of a Prince.” he stated and lunged forwards a thin blade of bone in his palm.

In this split second much happened. Sofi rushed from her chair to intercept the attack as Prince Anna’Talia cast a spell so powerful that it would take the life and consume the soul of its target. 

Tarik ducked and leaned low, pushing forwards in a leap. Sofi was unable to stop him, her gauntleted hand grabbed at air. 

The magical blessed bone blade crackled with white lightning in his hand. It pierced the throat of his target. Warm plum coloured liquid poured across his fist and forearm. 

Tarik and Anna shared a look. His cold calculation followed by a precision strike. Theirs of disbelief that their death magic had washed over him had been as effective as a thin mist. Even having the constitution to resist it, the damage to his flesh and spirit should have been devastating.

Withdrawing the blade sideways across the Prince's throat to open the wound even further, Tarik held a small vial filled with swirling smoke. 

Sofi drew her wide longsword and roared at him. Celestial power poured from her. Her intent was clear. 

Tarik threw the glass vial at the floor and smoke spread out in the immediate area. 

Chaos ensued as those close by rushed to the Prince side and applied healing magics. Panic spread as the wound was not reacting to the magic. Lifeblood continued to pour and the light of life left Prince Anna’Talia of the House of the Bastion.

Sofi bull rushed through the smoke launching any furniture in her way. She chased, catching glimpses of Tarik as he ducked, leapt, flipped his way easily past those that had been commanded to detain him. 

He was fast, too fast it seemed. The soldiers there were all in heavy armour and built for toe to toe combat. Tarik was their polar opposite and used such a thing to bounce his way to the window ledges of the Mausoleum. 

He looked back towards Sofi who halted and stared, knowing he was about to leap and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Tarik was truly sorry for what had just transpired, he knew the love Sofi had for her Prince. The faith of the dragons she carried in her heart. It didn’t matter though. Their friendship, if ever it had been, had failed long ago and this was the final nail in the coffin.

Taking a breath, he looked down at Karolus and Connor. Watched as the soldiers were now being split. Those left to guard the brothers and those that would now chase him to the ends of Colossus.

He climbed out and began to scale the dome roof. He saw then the glass panels holding their light preparing to release it into Connor. A small request of luck for Karolus settled in his mind.

All the commotion gave the brothers a second to speak properly. The soldiers' numbers thinned as more took to the rest of the mausoleum searching for the source of the commotion. 

The Calvarian’s were in uproar, anger, fear and distress rushed through those present like a tidal wave. Karolus stood and held the hand of the Kyanite Vendari with him. 

They took one step and the shattering of glass from above shook the air. The choir had never stopped, even with the distraction of Tarik, but now they went silent.

As glass shards fell in slow motion towards them they were easily avoided. But what wasn’t was the raw light of sorcery, the power that was contained in that ceiling was no longer bound. It fell into Connor, reaching through the gaps of his scales. Turning his eyes the colour of white smoke.

As this happened it was the first time Karolus had seen the soldiers lack discipline. They shuffled uneasily as the light poured into the young Kyanite, they started to move away from one another. 

When the light was no more, all of it consumed by Connor it would seem. The soldiers edged closer, blades drawn. 

Karolus stood in front of his brother protectively. His hand came up and he felt the presence of the Toan Druids, with him. He instinctively crouched and placed his open hand on the ground. Closed his eyes and requested aid from the earth spirits. 

The ground cracked and broke the circle markings of the ritual. The light of the glyphs immediately extinguished.

Seemingly pulling itself up from the ground an earth spirit manifested, two strong legs and four arms of stone and mass. A head with a single eye of rock looked down at Karolus, the highlander nodded and it rushed the soldiers. 

He didn’t have time to work out how instead he backed away from Connor who had absorbed the light from the shattered glass. 

Connor was primal and feral. He rushed at the soldiers and slashed with his powerful claws cutting through armour and leaving deep cuts in shields. 

The battle the soldiers put on against the earth spirit and Kyanite Dragonborn was admirable but they were not effective enough to prevent the pair from making it to the entrance hall. 

Those not involved had no desire to face the newly born Kyanite. They were in awe at the power they were seeing. Karolus could only imagine what plans were bringing excitement to the minds of the island's citizens.

Karolus held his broadsword and fought when he had to but spent his concentration on watching Connors back. 

The huge doors were closed, folks were deliberately giving them space and the soldiers were doing what they could to counter it. More waited outside in case they failed. Karolus had seen what looked like a small army in and about the Mauleseum.

“Hold!” the voice commanded across the battle, enhanced arcanely.

Prince Octavus strode into the entrance hall, a rose gold tunic and robe about them, matching perfectly with their eyes. 

Even Connor slowed but remained hungry for the fighting and blood, breathing with a growl. Something was holding him, his sharp teeth snapped at the air.

“A true specimen. Agamas themselves. First one in a long time and who knew it would be your scared little brother.” Octavus bore down on Karolus.

The highlander was in the zone, his adrenalin flowing. His fear was far away right now. At some point in the short battle he had accepted that he and Connor were going to die which gave him focus. 

“If you touch him you will lose the hand.” Karolus threatened.

“As I have said time and time again. Good luck highlander." The smile came naturally.

Octavus spread their arms and addressed the soldiers, who were hiding their fears deep.

“Now, let us see what our Booming Voice can do. Open the doors!” Prince Octavus commanded with manic glee. 

Their orders were obeyed and the massive doors were open and held so. The soldiers outside were fresh and ready.

“The one who brings me the head of the Kyanite will become the new Prince. As we seem to have had a mishap." The last words Octavus smiled at Karolus.

The Prince waved their hand and Connor shifted as if breaking free from unseen chains, turning his gaze on the soldiers and the fresh air of freedom from this mausoleum. 

Connor roared and rushed smashing past the earth spirit as it crumbled in its last throes. It had served its purpose and Karolus whispered a thank you, resting his palm on the ground for a heartbeat.

Karolus ran after his Vendari brother scowling at Octavus as he did. The change was immense. Magic was pouring from Connor as he fought. Arcane force enhanced his strikes, the deep blue scales bounced the steel slashed and stabbed against them. 

It was terrifying to behold. Karolus couldn’t get close as Connor didn’t know friend from foe. 

He was being partly ignored until the ever inspiring Prince Octavus arrived outside. 

“I am bored of your face now, highlander. A blade from my personal collection for the heart of this insect!” and they gestured at Karolus. 

Those weighing up their odds of taking on the Kyanite Vendari or the sword welding highlander turned their blades towards Karolus.

He stood ready as he was circled.

He concentrated on the blade, letting its druidic magic connect. He was ready. 

Blades clashed and stoneskin incantations protected him from fatal strikes. But it was no use, he wasn’t a magically enhanced draconic warrior, or a master of deception. Nor was he a massive wolf.

He held his hand up as if he needed a rest and to his surprise the soldiers stopped. Just as well, as they pushed their way into the circle he saw familiar faces. 

“Get up lad, we got some slappin of heads to do before yer sleep.” Stella the halfling Cleric stood with hammer and shield at the ready, her smile giving him vitality.

Karolus smiled and stood up straight wiping sweat and blood from his face.

“Oh I brought the pups, they're gonna help.” he had never seen the halfling looking so alive.

A huge mastiff and black furred wolf had followed Stella into the circle of death. Stella laughed out loudly at Karolus' confusion. 

“Reet yer gecko lookin bastards, we doin this?” Stella charged in, a divine light surrounding her and a wolf and mastiff biting those in range. 

Karolus felt the druidic glyphs activate and the green light of life veined through the broadsword. 

“A little longer brother.” then charged.