Page 5

From the harsh world,

That has rained elements of stone,

Upon your tender face.

Hafiz

Two Years Later

Randa, of the Stone House was beautiful and cultured and composed. When she sat on one of the wooden crates that the Light Phases were using as chairs, her ankles were neatly crossed. When she spoke, her accent whispered of the best finishing schools in the realm. When she adjusted the hem of her long human-style skirt against the filthy floor, not a speck of dirt attached itself to the drab fabric.

And when she hired assassins, her voice was cool as a spring breeze.

“I need you to kill someone.” She said calmly.

Kahn’s jaw tightened. He’d suspected that was why she’d come. There was nothing else a woman like this would want from the Light Phases.

Rysimer, King of the Light House, had clearly not been expecting her words.

But a lot about Randa was catching the Light Phases off guard. She’d just shown up at their fortress and politely asked for an audience. It had been --frankly-- bizarre. Very few people ever came to see the Light Phases. “Feral” was the word that got tossed around about them, most often. Sometimes “savages.” Sometimes “feral savages.”

The Light Kingdom was an endless forest, with ancient trees hundreds of feet high. Ironically, it was so sunny and the jungle grew so thick, that the residents of the kingdom lived in perpetual gloom. The dense canopy of vegetation blocked the daylight and made infrastructure a challenge.

Buildings were functional for defense, but not pretty to look at. Electricity was sketchy, and the water (when it ran) was usually cold. No stores. No movie theaters. No art museums, or coffee shops, or whatever the hell the other Phases did to pass the time.

Aside from getting into fights with each other, there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment for the Light Phases. There were only five of them left.

They’d already told each other every halfway-entertaining war story they knew, and they only knew war stories, so conversation was on repeats. They were all men and they all liked women, so there was no one to fuck. Their enemies were dead or hiding, so battles were few and far between.

In short, the Light Phases were bored. They were always interested in a diversion. Especially when the diversion looked like Randa, of the Stone House.

All five men had assembled to hear her out. How could they not? Not only was she something new in the endless expanse of identical days, but Parald’s former mistress was also quite possibly the most gorgeous Elemental alive.

Her chocolate-colored hair was smooth and glossy, with an olive streak at the temple marking her as part of the Stone House. There was a rich, golden hue to her flawless skin. Her eyes were a deep brown and framed with long lashes. She was too slim for typical Elemental tastes, but her willowy frame made her every move look like a goddamn ballet. Or at least how Kahn imagined a ballet looked. He’d sure as hell never been to one.

From the outside, the woman was perfect. …Too bad her insides were such a heartless mess.

Kahn now spent his entire existence angry, but few beings alive pissed him off more than Randa. It didn’t make much sense, since he barely knew the woman. Still, every time he laid eyes on her, he started seething. How could someone so beautiful be so empty?

He watched her from the shadows of the Light Castle’s throne room. “Throne room” was too fancy a name for it, really. It was a large, plain space in a large plain fortress. The Light Kings hadn’t built their home for entertaining. It was built for warriors to discuss war.

Rysimer would most likely be the last of the Light Kings. Like all the remaining Light Phases, he was large and blond. His face often wore a serious expression, because he was worrying about the future. Making his dead parents proud was vitally important to Rye. Finding a strong queen. Protecting the ruthless legacy of the Light Kingdom. Ensuring the universe didn’t fall, because the Light House died out. He spent his time agonizing over unsolvable problems. He hadn’t yet accepted the fact they were all screwed.

“Who do you want dead?” Rye asked Randa suspiciously.

“Does it matter?”

Kahn snorted in disgust. “Not to someone like you.” He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re a little more picky.”

Randa warily glanced his way. She always looked at him like he was a rabid dog on a weakening chain. That pissed him off too.

She cleared her throat and turned back to Rye. “I don’t see why we need to have a conversation about my reasons for hiring you. I simply want you to do a job for me. This is what you do professionally, yes? Kill people for other people?”

“We kill certain people, for certain other people. Not all people for all people.” Daven interjected from his position in the doorway.

Randa flinched at the sound of his voice and whirled around to glare at him like she hadn’t seen him before. “Must you stand there?”

“Stand where?”