Cyrus’s first glimpse of the Heretic in battle was most impressive. He charged the lone defending paragon, a man in golden platemail and a massive ax strapped to his back. Arn’s gauntlets were a flash in the night, faster than daggers despite their weight and size. Two soldiers tried to block his path. One collapsed with a giant cavity punched into his chest. The other died with a twisted, broken neck from a single blow to his face. Arn’s paragon foe proved a much more dangerous opponent. They danced, feet shifting, two masters of battle testing the other, watching their movements, until one made a mistake.

That mistake was for the ax-wielder to remain so patient. Rayan joined Arn, his shield up and blocking a defensive swing of the ax. Rainbow light flared across the shield upon impact, and with its blessing, the paladin held strong. Arn closed the distance in an instant, gauntlets pounding huge indents into the paragon’s armor. The metal shrieked as it broke, and beneath it broke bones and flesh as well. As if that weren’t enough, Mari descended from her diving leap from high atop the cliff. Her long feline body slammed down upon the paragon’s shoulders, collapsing his body to the sand and skidding it several feet. The dangerous foe dead, the three split, each assaulting soldiers still scrambling to ready their weapons and set up position.

Cyrus forced his attention back to his own foe, a soldier armed with a spear. The man thrust it the moment Cyrus was in range, an obvious center-of-weight attack that would do fine if in formation with hundreds of others. Here on the sands, one on one? Too easy. Cyrus swept his left arm sideways, blade and spear shaft connecting. His shove moved both out of the way, easily exposing his foe. Cyrus chopped, the curved hook of his other sword easily sliding into the man’s neck, breaking his collarbone, and cutting open the vital arteries within. He collapsed, and in his absence, Cyrus had a clear path to the ring of chanting Seeds.

Sinshei stood on the opposite end of that ring, and her voice cried out to the heavens, perceivable even above the din.

“The time is nigh!” she screamed. “Give of your faith, children of the incarnate!”

All ten acted as one, their movements, their voices, their lives given in perfect reflections of their fellows. Their knives sliced across their throats. Their blood pooled at their feet, sinking into the sand, to form a circle about the regent. They should have recoiled at the pain, but the Seeds only dropped their knives and lifted their arms in worship. They smiled up at the stars as their lifeblood poured from their self-inflicted wounds. They closed their eyes and wept tears of joy as their knees gave out. In return for their collapse, Gordian was uplifted.