Thy boasts are fearsome, youngling lord,
But I fear not thy lofty word.
Threats are easy to afford.

But I, too, weary of this game,
So I accept thy test of flame.
Beware! ’Tis I who rise to fame!

And when this little farce is done,
Then death shall come to Brion’s son,
And I shall be the ruling one!

With her final word, the two halves of the circle suddenly misted over with blue and red auras and became a parti-colored hemisphere over the two. Where the two colors met, a sparkling violet interface crackled brightly in the darkness—the only light in the cathedral save for the candles and vigil lights.

As each combatant stood his ground, the interface began to pulse, then to surge back and forth between the two, giving and gaining as each sought out the other’s weaknesses. It seemed a fairly even match for a time. But then the wall of violet fire began moving inexorably toward Charissa.

As the hemisphere slowly turned to crimson, crowding out the blue, Charissa’s face took on a look of fear bordering on pure terror. The crackling veil of the deadly interface between her power and Kelson’s advanced slowly but unwaveringly, and her eyes grew wide and frightened as she retreated to the limits of her side of the circle. When her shoulders finally encountered the sleek, unyielding surface of the barrier ring, she stopped, unable to go any farther. And as the crimson at last engulfed her, now pressing her downward, she let out a long, agonized scream, edged with fury, which slowly faded as she grew smaller.

Then she was gone, and circle, crimson aura, and hemisphere were gone. And all that remained was a young boy in shining white raiment, standing on the seal of a long-forgotten renegade saint, too dazed from his victory to hear the shouts which rose from the people who had watched and hoped and prayed with him.

Outside, the darkness lifted, and the clouds began to roll away.

With the shouts, Morgan opened his eyes and smiled, moved his hand to his wounded shoulder and found it healed. As he looked up in wonder from this thing he had done, Duncan, too, opened his eyes, glanced at Kelson, then helped Morgan to his feet. Smiling faintly, Morgan walked to the side of the still-dazed Kelson to touch his shoulder gently.

The touch brought Kelson back with a start, and he turned to look at Morgan in astonishment.

“Morgan! How did you—?”

“Not now, my prince,” Morgan murmured, gesturing toward the still-cheering congregation and smiling. “You have a coronation to complete.”