Jaron’s eyes were drawn immediately to the throne room, like how a single spot of light in a dark room attracts the eyes first time. He blinked. The throne was a monstrosity of silver, gold and myriad gems of varying brightness and sizes. The back rest seemed to have been carved of a single piece of ruby, spreading behind the entire throne like a scarlet halo. The cushions were as pink as nearly everything else in the Palace, but a majority was hidden by the creature who occupied the throne.It was that creature – the Demon Lord Lilith – that drew Jaron’s eyes first. She was dressed this time in a single red gown embroidered with golden threads, accentuating her statuesque figure. She wore no crown, but her raven black mane was styled above her head to look like a crown. Her feet were bare, and the hem of the gown ended just above her shin, exposing the porcelain skin. Lilith seemed to lounge on the throne, both arms spread to grip the armrests in a loose and relaxed grip. A smil

“How can you call that trying, boy? At this rate you’ll never achieve anything!”Gilgal grimaced fiercely. But he still threw down that weight, walking towards the other. He couldn’t tell what angered him more, the man’s obnoxious words or the fact that it spoke directly into his mind, whatever he did to block it. He got into the proper stance to pick up the other weight, conscious of the stares that followed him. The other Purgers going through the special training with him, were all watching. And no wonder. The weight he’d been forced to drop was a barbell magically enhanced to weigh a shocking 600kg. It had been a shock when he started lifting that, and now he was aiming for one of the others. The weights had been brought out by the Masters to replace the 300kg weight that the Purgers had been using. The weight ranges of the new barbells were 600kg, 900kg, 1200kg and 1500kg. Nobody in the entire Order had managed to lift that last one, and now Gilgal was going to lift the seco

Nur frowned at him, still waking up. Gilgal returned the frown. He had no exact idea of the time, but he’d wager it was just a few hours left until dawn. She must have come to see him, then dozed off on his bed as usual. She was still watching him with that bleary-eyed look, but he knew that wouldn’t last. True to the thought, a flash of indignation lit up in those brown eyes, followed quickly by a hot flash of anger.Wary, he backed up, considered putting on his shirt again, but relented. Now that the fabric was off his body, he had no desire to struggle into it again. Nur’s anger wasn’t worth getting his skin wet again. But then, he couldn’t just stand before her naked. The room was enclosed for that. “What are you doing here?” he asked to forestall whatever angry remark was on the tip of her tongue. Then moved quickly past her to snatch a dirty, but dry coat off the back of his chair. He shrugged into it, asking, “are you alright?”Nur shrugged, the frown turning mild. She

Gilgal stood on a mountain peak. The entire world spread out before him. He could see the mountains in the distance, rolling up into the clouds and down into the plains. The forests stretched for miles and miles away from him, vanishing into the distant horizon. But at the foot of the mountain where he stood, was a town. He knew it was a town through the input of a foreign memory. That foreign memory also identified the town as Nenwick, a town in the kingdom of Riderna, sitting at the foot of Mount Grey. He could feel the ambient aura here very clearly; a battle had been fought here, and it was a very brutal one. The foreign memory agreed. The beings that they called Transcendents had fought here too. Nearly a millennia ago, as time was marked here. He could still see their signature, and if he tried, he’d see the entire battle played out again. But he hadn’t come here for the battle. Time was short for him to stay here, so he had to be fast.Spinning around, he stared at the b

“I swear by the gods that I’m innocent, Mr. Mayor! I’m no Slodoroon merchant!” the bound and accused merchant wailed for the umpteenth time, to be met with the jeers of the crowd. Yvaine stood with the crowd. She couldn’t claim the same amusement as the rest of the townsfolk, but it was amusing still to see what they considered justice. The merchant they’d gathered to see was a lean fellow by the name of Cade Calde. Up until that day, he’d been their neighbor, but the whisper of an accusation was all they needed to shun him. She knew very well how this wasn’t justice, but it served her purpose. She wouldn’t have interfered though, even if it didn’t serve her, so she certainly wouldn’t now. She simply watched. They were all standing in the town hall, with the accused standing on the box of the accused; chained to the pole. A wooden barrier separated the accused from the people, and the raised dais of the judge’s box. On that raised dais sat the Mayor, wearing a frown that co