“It’s all part of the same plan. With 80,000 deaths, every Sanctuary around the world will be shown just how vulnerable they are. The Sanctuaries should’ve been disbanded after the war with Mevolent ended. We didn’t need you Elders setting up your fancy Councils, electing yourselves to positions of authority over the rest of us. I don’t like people telling me what to do. I got a problem with it, point of fact. A system like that, well, it’s open to all kinds of abuse. Miscarriages of justice as it were. Your system failed me and I got put in prison for killing someone I never killed, and because of that, you’re going to go to prison for the murder of 80,000 helpless mortals. Let’s see how you like spending the rest of your life alone in a cell. Grand Mage, you have about two minutes to walk to the middle of the field there. I think it’s about time you started walking.”

Guild had no breath to form words and Scarab was already looking back at the game. Guild stood, the Desolation Engine heavy in his hand. He thought he could feel it pulsing with a low and terrible life, but he dismissed the idea. The bomb wasn’t alive. It had no consciousness, no sentience. It was not an object of evil – it was simply an object. The man who set it off, however, now he would be evil.

There was a gap between where he stood and the tunnel where the officials entered and exited. He could slip through and walk on to the pitch before anyone could even try to stop him. He looked back at Scarab. The old man wasn’t even smiling any more. He was calm in the face of impending death. Of course he was. This was what he’d been waiting 200 years for.

Guild stepped down from the seats, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. He didn’t want to look up and see the tens of thousands of faces around him. He wished he could block out the noise – the cheering, the chanting, the thunder of living people – and yet if he’d had the option, he didn’t know if he would. He was a man who was about to commit one of the single most monstrous acts the world had ever seen. Shouldn’t he suffer for it? Shouldn’t he invite that pain in at the earliest opportunity?

He realised his feet were still moving, that he was getting closer to the officials’ tunnel, closer to the cameras and the football field, and still no ideas were coming to him. If he didn’t think of something now, immediately, in a few seconds he would find himself either committing mass murder or sentencing his own family to death.

“Grand Mage,” said a smooth voice in his ear, “could I have a word with you?”