Confessor Imori, 5 Armed Confessors, Confessor Warren arrive, following Tikva.


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Throughout Arvum and the world entire, millions of people look up to the sky that now has black tendrils stretching towards a blood red moon. As they watch, the moon begins to resemble more and more of a skull, the empty eye sockets gazing down at the world with hate.

Above Harrow Hall, what looks like a book begins to rise into the sky, floating above the towers. The book grows and grows until its shadow casts itself over the landscape, with but the flicker of red moonlight giving illumination. In the Great Book of Endings, every individual can read the words of their current and recent actions, telling their story as letters begin to appear telling of a particularly terrible end.
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Ian arrives, following Sen'azala.

Keso, a totally legit assistant, Tiger, the clever mechanical bird, Peanut, an oversized mountain dog arrive, following Aleksei.

There's an energy about Sen as she picks her way through the crowds of soldiers with a deftness that's well practiced, but a little uncanny all the same, and the way she searches through them for the people she's specifically looking for is absolutely so; because looking is a bit misleading. Her nose twitches, she turns her head this way and that as she listens. She's not ignoring the chanting and the moon...quite the opposite, she looks as though she might leap out of her own skin at any moment.

It should be no surprise to anyone who knows Ian that he projects a sense of being a guardian as he follows close behind Sen. His instinct for weaving his way through the chaos of the soldiers starting to lose it under the malevolent red moon almost looks preternatural, the way that he's just not there when someone flails around in a way that would normally crash into him. He's collected to a degree that, under this set of circumstances, borders on absurd. He has his scarf looped and clipped to his belt, because of course he does.

Gianna follows in Sen'azala's wake, a gilded shadow, brow furrowed and appearing... well, not as cool as usual. There's a big weird book and the tendrils moving to the moon. She tips her chin up, looking up at that moon, as she has for a long, long time. Ever since she learned what it was, and had an inkling of a plan.

Nina doesn't blend into crowds well - that's never been her thing. But she's here, following with Gianna and Sen and the rest of the singers. Her skirts are gathered in her hands and her eyes and ears are wary. Her red dress cuts an interesting shadow in the reddened moonlight.

There's a resolute air about Quenia as she follows behind everyone else, mixed with quite a bit of healthy nervousness. She's in it to the end, as she's always said, and she takes in everything around her. All of the monsters, all of the chaos, all of the chanting, and tries to just tuck it away so she can concentrate on getting to where they need to go. She slips through the crowd and keeps close to those she recognizes to be her companions in this task, Ian getting a curious look and then a nod when he joins the group.

There's nothing shadowed about Aleksei; stealth is not his usual domain, and although he can sometimes be quieter than others, he doesn't tend to hide or blend often. He is very clearly //there and present// in his steelsilk-lined leather longcoat, the golden scarf, the dashing hat. But even not being subtle, he certainly looks //unsettled//, gaze lifting now and then to the blood moon. It seems to itch at him to a particular extent, similar to its apparent impact on Sen. "Not happy seeing that one again."

Sen'azala's own steelsilk has been covered over by the gray-brown leathers she's wearing, and her painted face is at least *somewhat* obscured from anything but near view by the hood she's pulled up. She doesn't stop until they're near the edge of things - though not quite outside of them - and then she drops into a crouch, and takes a moment to visibly steady herself. That energy doesn't go away, but she does *tightly* leash it. "We go the instant there's any kind of reasonable opening," she says to the others. "...or unreasonable one, if reasonable doesn't show soon. Move fast and low. No heroics."

Tikva doesn't look very stealthy either, although the darkness of the inquisitorial gear does at least blend with SOME shadows. She is bouncing on her heels. Not uncommon for her, but the tension seems to be drawing her as taut as her bowstring. "Not even a little heroic?"

"Fine by me," Nina says, whispering and hoping she can be heard. "... I'm not much for heroics anyway." She takes in a breath, clearly steeling herself against all this battle. It's not her favorite.

"You mean other than the heroics we're already employing?" Quenia quips lightly from behind, her tone sounding vaguely amused, even if its tinged with nervousness. "How close do you reckon we'll need to get to him?" she wonders as they make their way forward through the crowds and the battle surrounding them.

"I'd say I don't do heroics," Gianna whispers, looking cross, "But I never would have thought I would do any of this. Yet here we are." That line between her brows is not going away.


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The Great Book of Endings looms higher in the sky, and across the world everyone can see a page turn to what speaks of a terrible ending for them- and all too often, one of eternal humbled service to Orichalcum the Horned God. One page of the book speaks of another great fire in Arx, and perhaps in the most petty of actions from an eternal enemy, a great blaze begins to burn in multiple places throughout Arx. There's a scramble to fight it, though the blaze is obviously supernatural and attacks the Iron Guard with wanton cruelty.

The moon already blood and looking like a skull, looks wet, as if flesh is beginning to form over the skull of the moon.
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"This is gonna be real embarrassing if he can just plug his ears up," Aleksei notes wryly, his gaze on the battle and all of the spaces their potential openings could come. He draws off his hat and hooks it to his belt. "Don't worry," he says to Nina and Gianna. "Any heroics will be employed to get you guys closer."

"Not even a little," Sen says, as she tucks the gold and copper wolf talisman out of sight beneath her tunic. It's certainly not going to *stay* out of sight...but she clearly doesn't intend to draw attention to herself on the way in. She looks up as the illusory griffin flies overhead, and then almost absently adjusts the copper cloak pin she's also wearing. A glance toward Quenia. "Close enough that there's no chance he won't hear it. Given *this* fucking din and how much shouting is going on in there..." Close, in other words. "Keep in mind, he doesn't know what you're here for. Use that, if you need to." Her eyes turn to the sky, and the book. "Nothing is written." And then, as if quoting to herself, "To live is to choose. To choose is defiance." The tips of her teeth show as she looks toward Aleksei. "...I'm not opposed to ripping off his hands."

Immediately after Aleksei spoke, there begins to be a slow, terrible song. Another wolf's song, though not by the mouths of any wolves, or even of the Mor'ral. A twisted duplicate, song by creatures fashioned by the Horned God for one purpose only- to bid the moon to wake. The time has come to begin singing in opposition.

Sen'azala shudders at the sound, but there's an unpleasant light in her eyes now. A promise of violence. She jerks her chin toward the others. "Let's go."

"If he tries, I'll make him listen." Ian's voice is quiet, flat and calm. Statements from him are statements of fact. He looks up as the singing begins, tracking the sound to its source. Then he falls into step with them.

Gianna swallows, fear in her eyes. She swiftly closes them, perhaps to try to mask it. Closed eyes seem like a very bad idea from now on, so she opens them. A nod to Aleksei for his words, and a sidelong glance at Ian. "Thank you for coming," she whispers.

Nina grips her hands together tightly - she fears what might be to come, but has to do her best. She looks at Sen again and follows her example as she keeps moving. Nina's eyes are wide in the shining dark. The countersong sends a shiver up her spine.

Quenia glances over at Aleksei when he makes a comment about ears being plugged. She grimaces, "I'd hope it's the Voices that have to hear the song and not so much him, but both is better." She goes still when she hears the other wolf song, her eyes widening ever so slightly. Her face pales and she steels herself even further. She nods to Sen'azala when she says it's time to go and makes whatever haste she can to follow everyone else. "I'm ready," she says, more to herself than to anyone else. Can anyone really be ready for this?

"I'm pretty sure we can be loud," Sorrel murmurs to Sen'azala as she slips closer to the Prima, not far from the others. "But if he's got to lose his hands also? So be it. It's not like he's ever used them for anything good."

A shiver runs down Aleksei's spine at that sound. He's quiet a moment, even in the wake of everyone else's words; he's looking towards the castle with a hardened expression. "Nothing is written," he agrees quietly, belatedly. "And Skald made humanity to survive." And he starts moving in with the others.

Tikva inhales deeply, lashes falling low over her eyes for a beat's pause as she readies her weapon. Her most potent weapon. She is unusually quiet - at least, she is without words as she moves quietly with Sen'azala and the others.

Gianna glances sidelong at Sorrel at the mention of volume, but says nothing. She takes deep, careful breaths, in and out, in and out, steeling herself.

As the Horned God's twisted melody rises, now it is time for their song. And it could be a trick of the time, or an echo of the magic of others, but Sen feels the dead of her people waiting to raise their voices with hers. Now is the time to sing.

((OOC: Okay, this is going to be spellsinging checks, to begin for the first melody it will be at easy, and everyone singing can roll. Fighting escort types, well, get ready for a round or two from now.))

Tikva checks charm and performance at easy. Tikva is successful.

Quenia checks charm and performance at easy. Quenia is successful.

Gianna checks charm and performance at easy. Gianna is spectacularly successful.

Nina checks charm and performance at easy. Nina is successful.


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Above the book in the sky, there's a flash of light- much like lightning in a stormcloud, though as the sun dipped it was a clear night. One by one, the stars flicker out, as if fleeing something, and even the skull-like moon's eyes seem to turn to look at something above the book. Above the book, there's the outline of three great winged figures, a radiant outline in the darkness, from which even the stars flee.
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The breath that Tikva prepared, she channels into the melody with the full force of her passion behind it, reaching to bring the weight of her will with the melody, staunch in her certainty as she remembers the brilliant feeling of running with the wolves, eyes shining. There's no quiet here and now, for her song is unnaturally loud. Sing your weave, the Lianhan sang to her sisters; now Tikva does the same.

Sorrel checks charm and performance at easy. Sorrel is successful.

Gianna cannot raise her voice; only whispers now. But song does not need to be loud, and while she can no longer project her voice, there is an intensity there that draws power nonetheless. She steadies, doing what she does best. Her life, for song. She looks less like she's going to puke now, even as she raises her gaze to the sky and takes in the winged figures.

Nina has had plenty of opportunity to sing in concerts and taverns and ballrooms. But no time has ever been more important, or more frightening, than this. It's enough to give even the most seasoned performer a bit of stage fright. Nonetheless, as the time approaches, the sky growing ever darker and the howls of the countersong rising, Nina also sings. She matches the harmonies that the others are bringing, her voice loud and strong and joining the chorus.

Sen'azala checks willpower and leadership at easy. Sen'azala is successful.

Ian checks stamina and survival at easy. Ian is successful.

Tikva is Sorrel's sister by choice; so too is Gianna. And while she's not as close to Nina, she nonetheless offers a fond smile of solidarity as they all raise their voices together. Even if Gianna's voice is no longer as loudly projected. They will sing their song together and feel the freedom of the music.

Sen knows where she wants to go. She has always known where she wants to go. She pushes forward, going only slow enough to ensure everyone is able to keep pace, with the sort of urgency only found with someone who is, quite literally, going to meet destiny. She almost misses it. It takes a moment to sink in, that feeling, those shapes, and while she hasn't done any damn thing to tire herself, her breathing is suddenly heavy, her eyes wide and more golden than they have any business being while she's still human shaped. ...Because she doesn't stay human shaped for long. Her hair turns white, her ears length and point, and with a snarl and a flash of teeth there's no more human Sen. She's in her true shape, and she pauses only to dig her hind claws into the ground before she rears back, nose to the sky, and howls. Anger, and fury, and grief, and hatred, but the important thing, always the important thing, the thing she heard when the royal guard of the Venandi sang it to her in an ice cave. No, it says. *No*.

As the spellsingers begin their song, Ian looks up at the moon for a moment, and the reflection of ruddy red light against his blue eyes pales to a silvery shimmer, the color of pure light shining off of an alaricite blade. He draws the alaricite sword from within his cane and takes his place between the spellsingers and anything that may try to silence them. He doesn't need his cane, now; his once stilted gait has become even, and graceful. Though he remains silent, in the pale light that shimmers in his electric blue eyes, there is a promise, the promise of a bared blade that won't be sheathed until blood is shed.

Although Quenia is not a spellsinger, she has taken classes in performance over the years. She lends her voice to the opening melody, following along with everyone else, in a sense while also adding her own unique flare to the song, which blends in easily with what everyone else is doing. This is her part of the song. Her choices she's making. She makes sure to sing loud and clear, so that she can be heard. She keeps following along with the others walking toward the Traitor's area, pausing only when they do, sticking close to the group.

e "Doot doot doot, doot doot doot, trying to end Orichalcum, doot doot doot." There's an odd hum as a fox prances up by the side of Sen and tail flicks by Gianna, and then it watches the moon. The flesh of the moon is looking more face like, more covered, more like a hallowed out man's face with eyes filled with rage and hate. It is now glaring down at them instead of the three looming great winged figures. Far from above, one of the Winged Figures is flying down, a single one of the Kindly Voices and floating just above them. It's face is cloaked in shadows by its hooded cowl though it seems to be looking down, just watching them and listening to the song.

The counter song of the Horned God twists, quite evidently trying to drown them out and interfere with their song, trying to throw them off the notes.

((OOC: Again checks this round, but at normal))

Nina checks charm and performance at normal. Nina is successful.

Sen'azala checks willpower and leadership at easy. Sen'azala is successful.

Sen'azala checks willpower and leadership at normal. Sen'azala marginally fails.

Gianna checks charm and performance at normal. Gianna is successful.

Quenia checks charm and performance at normal. Quenia is successful.

Sorrel checks charm and performance at normal. Sorrel is successful.

Tikva checks charm and performance at normal. Tikva is successful.

This moment? The singing? This isn't for Aleksei. But what he does is keep watch, keep moving forward, keep looking //ahead//. He's here to make certain that the people he's with, the people with this //power//, are able to do what they're here for. There is nothing so dramatic about how he is, no overt or obvious sign of power. But there is a confident assurance to him nevertheless. His gaze lifts, and there is something unsettled that runs down his spine as his gaze lands on the Kindly Voice overhead. His focus returns to the path ahead, and he extends some sense of power to try and -- open it. Unfurl things before them. Unlock a path.

Unwilled, Tikva's lips curve. The song of defiance that Sen howls, she throws her head back as her voice rings out in clarion accompaniment. This is the note of connection, the one they shared from the beginning of their odd friendship: defiance. She's known for it, after all. Each step is light along the ground, the fleet foot of one woman among the wolves and chosen wolves, heart and soul borne aloft on the music. The singer and the song; the howling and the wolf; the chorus with the power of combined will, individual and chosen. We choose, we do, we are.

Aleksei checks luck and investigation at normal. Aleksei is successful.

Nina tries not to grin as Fox joins the chorus. The voice here is welcome, but shaping her mouth wrong will shape the note wrong! That can't be done with the stakes higher than ever. She must hit every high note and every low, singing with all of her heart as she continues to push the song to the skies.

It's not Fox, though the nearest of Sen's ears flick toward her, acknowledging. Grateful even, maybe, way down deep under all that anger. It's not the listening shape, even if that has her ears laying flat, and it's not the twisted howls, though her fur bristles on end when those begin. It's Destiny. Those eyes, on her. She skips a breath, she misses a 'note'. She starts to, but doesn't *quite*, take a step back.

Ian looks up at the figure that hovers above the group, but only for a moment. He has become a weapon with a singular purpose, and even this very, very concerning thing is secondary.


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There's an earthly rumble as a great beast bursts from the earth near Harrow Hall's gate, a monstrous cross of a scorpion, centipede and bear several hundred feet tall with a hundred gibbering mouths with mandibles, screeching in hate at a small group near the gate. It starts to lumber forward while the Winged Figures look overhead, and there is the beating of wings of a number of flying things diving towards it.
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Quenia is briefly distracted as Fox trots out and over to Sen'azala, however that distraction is not enough to sway her voice one way or another. She continues to sing in the chorus of singers, making certain each note is soundly heard, squaring her shoulders even more resolutely than she has before with each deliberate step she takes as she follows along. Her voice also rings of defiance, of choice, of hope, of freedom, all of that combined into the song they are framing. Her eyes catch upon the sky when the winged one comes flying over them, causing her steps to falter, but still she sings on.

Fox? Gianna perhaps didn't expect that. A rare thing happens - a flicker of joy in her blue eyes. She inclines her head to the spirit, and keeps singing. So quietly, but somehow with power.

They sing. The moon starts to shift slightly, the flesh beginning to fade, retreating more to a middle portion as a inky blood rather than flesh, as it was moments before. The sound of the countersong rises louder, from many, many more voices attempting very hard to drown them out. Near them, the Wall of Thorns changes. It begins to break apart, and little humanoid figures made of thorns begin to break apart, their arms made of sharpened spears as they approach with hostile intent. Fox ear flicks towards them, "Don't look at me, I'm a lover, not a fighter. Doot doot doot."

((OOC: Thorn things trying to murder them, so Ian and anyone else melee inclined is up. It's going to be a hard melee check to hold them off. The song is getting harder, hard checks now, and Sen can try to finish the song with a daunting roll, if every other singing is successful or has crits to cover fails.))

Aleksei checks luck and medium wpn at hard. Aleksei is successful.

Tikva checks charm and performance at hard. Tikva is successful.

Gianna checks charm and performance at hard. Gianna is successful.

Nina checks charm and performance at hard. Nina marginally fails.

Gianna continues to sing. It's quiet, so quiet, but sometimes power does not need to be loud. Sometimes power is certainty, confidence. Gianna knows who she is; that's not always a helpful trait. She could be described as arrogant, egotistical. Those things are true. But never let it be said that she cannot impose her will and make change. Her hands curl into fists, the manicured nails digging into the leather covering her fingers.

Sorrel checks charm and performance at hard. Sorrel marginally fails.

Ian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Ian is successful.

Sen'azala checks willpower and leadership at daunting. Sen'azala is successful.

Quenia checks charm and performance at hard. Quenia is successful.

Tikva could go for a weapon, to defend herself and her sister singers, but she trusts herself and her body entirely to the care of the adepts at her back. How many times has Aleksei saved her ass now? Well-- never mind. She sings the bolster, the bright fierce call off her song as she tries to will her confidence into it. To share it with the others. Her hands are fists, and she forcibly opens them to raise her palms high as she lets a soaring note free in a rising crescendo.

Nina keeps singing. The spell is WORKING; the moon is starting to bring back some of its true light, and it gives her hope! But the song is trickier here. Her voice falters a bit and she misses a critical note. She joins in again, pushing out to keep strong despite the fright of this dire situation. Sen gives her courage to press on.

"No." This one word of defiance, spoken without emotion, is Ian's battle cry. He jams his cane into the ground for retrieval later, and dashes forward, impacting the line of thorn creatures with all of the force of his momentum. His sword flashes white in the red light of the moon, and he repeats himself, a little bit louder, as it cleaves through one of them. "NO."

Sen'azala grits her teeth. "Please," she whispers to herself. Can wolves whisper? She's doing it. "Please, please." It's not a prayer, and if it's a plea, it's not to anyone else. For a moment she's silent, ears splaying, eyes closed. Then she opens them, she looks up, she stares at Destiny, and...she finds it again. A snarl, and then she's howling, she's singing, louder than before. Defiant. Almost challenging.

It's time for him: Aleksei draws his sword, draws his breath, and there's a sudden, fierce smile, as if the sound of Wolf's song around him bolsters him down to his blood. "Knock knock," he says to the creatures of thorn, and his sword flashes as he slices into them. Slices through. "The Children of Skald are here," he says, eyes blazing with a wildness almost akin to joy. His //sword// is almost singing. As if the metal could somehow echo the Song around him. "//Open. Up//."

Quenia's voice continues to lend to the song. She is steady. She is stalwart. She's even headed. She continues singing, for all of her being, making sure all know of choice, of freedom, of defiance, of free will. Most importantly, that her story is her own, her path her own to follow, as they all must follow their own paths. She blends in with the chorus, following Sen'azala's lead.

The thorned figures rush in, cut apart by Aleksei and Ian who are holding the overwhelming numbers as more and more rise up and rush. Then there's spectral figures among them, ghosts attempting to drag thorned figures back. Angry dead, Venandi among them, that have a bone to pick with Orichalcum- possibly summoned by Deathspeakers, and those close to Death. Volcica's work, most likely. Ian and Aleksei are fighting as only adepts can, holding the thorn creatures despite the help, and there's now a desperation in the Horned God's song, rage and hate, and the book above is turning faster and faster, the ends it suggests more brutal and more humiliating by the page. His song is trying one last great attempt to break theirs.

Fox chirps cheerfully, "Song of the Venandi, reprise."

((OOC: Same rolls, but for singers and Sen this round it is back to normal))

Tikva checks charm and performance at normal. Tikva is successful.

Sen'azala checks willpower and leadership at normal. Sen'azala is successful.

Aleksei checks luck and medium wpn at hard. Aleksei is successful.

Nina checks charm and performance at normal. Critical Success! Nina is spectacularly successful.

Quenia checks charm and performance at normal. Quenia is successful.

Ian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Ian is successful.

Gianna checks charm and performance at normal. Gianna is successful.

Gianna sings for Wolf. She sings for herself, mostly, because she is Gianna and that is what Gianna does: she works for herself and her own vision and her own freedom. She scratched and clawed her way toward her dreams, and then she gave part of that dream to Wolf. The greatest sacrifice she could make. Perhaps the greatest song she can sing. As always, when Gianna sings, that cool mantle of protection is faded and instead there is joy. A profound sense of doing both what she was meant to do and what she chose to do.

"NO." Ian grabs one of the thorn creatures by what passes for its neck with his alaricite-clad left hand and drives his sword into it to the hilt, then swings both sword and thorn creature with devastating force into an entire group, driving all back. There is still no emotion in his voice even as he speaks louder and louder, only a terrible, implacable purpose in his voice. He launches himself into the air and comes down between the beginnings of a push from more thorn creatures towards the Singers, into them as he drops.

She has it, she has it, and Sen's not alone. And then she, and they, are *very* much not alone. Her people are here, and she points her nose to the sky, and she sings. She sings until the end comes, and then she lets the last note end in a reckless snarl and a shout. "Come to me, Orichalcum! Come to me you *fucking coward*! I'm singing your death! I'm singing the death of your dreams! Come and hear my people before you die cringing in a corner!"

Rage and desperation in the countersong bring their bright reflections, and Tikva thinks of each time she has sung hope to despair as she grins a seed of triumph into the music. "Knock knock," she weaves an echo of the defiant shout into the lyrics. Extemporaneous nonsense was always her favorite. "Open wide. Your plans are dying on the viiiiine--"

Nina comes in strong at the end. As she pushes through to the most challenging part of the song, inspired by all the other singers around her, and fearing for her life and that of the world, she gives it her all. Her voice is clear across the night sky, audible even with the battle and the screaming of dark creatures. The song carries magic, and with that magic, hope.

Queniadraws upon the things Jara's told her, the thing Jara's allowed her to see, regarding the Venandi people and the death of the Daughter of Wolf. She draws on their strength, their defiance, their courage, all of it. All the things that made her so profoundly invested in all that's come since that vision so long, long ago. She pours that into her song, all of her feelings on it all, how she was affected, how she feels the world should be affected, and makes that her own, lending strength to the things she's already added to the song, making sure it blends in with the others and their own versions of it; an individual voice among many, telling the tale that not all was lost or forgotten. That choices were made and there is hope in the darkness beyond.

Sorrel checks charm and performance at normal. Sorrel is successful.

Sorrel is all about hope. She's always been about hope. It's tricky, but they're going strong. This is, after all, something they've prepared for a long time. And they sing together often.

The Song finishes, and suddenly the howling from the Horned God stops with very much something like a note of fear. Thorned beasts suddenly start to run, and in a moment it becomes clear why, as one of the great winged figures swoops down and lands among them. Its faceless cowl is staring right at Sen and speaks in what sounds like a hundred voices echoing at once, "We no longer have the payment of the Horned God. Why have you sung, and claim what was given to us?"

Fox sliiiiiinks away, moving to stand behind Gianna and making herself very small.

Aleksei's sword may begin to lower when the thorned creatures start to run, but he doesn't sheathe it entirely. He's too distracted by the swooping arrival of one of the Kindly Voices, which has stolen his breath to stillness. Even when it's not addressing //him//, he feels the echo of those hundred voices chattering his bones. Even if it's not his answer to give, he feels the weight of its demand.

The coda comes and with it, the arrival of the unearthly terror speaking in a hundreds voices at once. Tikva swallows, suddenly very aware of how small they are. She closes her eyes, picturing the shining impossible vastness of the universe, and opens them again, trying to stand strong and not quail before the impossible. Her eyes are very wide, now.

Sen'azala stares into that darkness that isn't a face, and if she's scared - how could she possibly *not* be scared? - it doesn't show. There's rage and violence about her now, even though she stands in place, and her song has ended. "It was not his to pay," she says, fury in her voice, though her volume is normal now. "It was stolen from my people, and the memory he gave you was the murder of Raksha'hasa Wolf Daughter, First of my House. It is *mine*, and I have found it, and I have sung it, because Mia Riven of House Sylvas, daughter of the butcher who calls himself a god, is calling to you for an end to him. I am not his kin, but he has killed *all* of mine, and I would tear him to pieces. I would rip out his throat. I would dance on his grave. I ask for him to die, and his dreams with him."

Sen'azala says, "I ask, so that I can fulfill my promise, one way or another."

Suddenly finding himself with nothing to fight, Ian lowers his sword. The stillness that he projects as he turns to watch what's happening is all the more jarring after how fast he was moving mere moments ago. There's a sense of power restrained in that stillness, of truly inhabiting the space where he stands. Pale silver light continues to flicker and shimmer from time to time across the surface of his eyes.

This is abjectly terrifying. This is like having the universe question you like a child it thinks might be misbehaving. Sorrel slips closer to Tikva and reaches for her hand, just to have some moral support here. Or maybe to give moral support.

Quenia finishes her part in the song and then grows quiet as one of the Kindly Voices comes down and speaks to Sen, making a demand about why they sang the song. She goes still, watching the moment unfold. However, she remains confident in the song they sang, in the work they did, the /rightness/ of it all. Her eyes fall upon Sen, and if her look could lend the last remaining Venandi any additional strength she might need to see this through, it would.

Nina simply watches this. It was not she who was directly asked, but she knows the answer impacts them all... is the most important thing right now to keep the darkness at bay. She grips her hands tightly.

Well it's a good move to trip Gianna so that if she turns to run she'll fall down and then Fox can make her escape. The slink of Fox might register somewhere on Gianna's periphery but frankly most of the Nightingale's attention is devoted to the winged figure confronting Sen'azala. Her willpower is now turned toward staying on her feet and standing her ground. And not, say, peeing. For someone who was once a dirty little gutter rat, this is near overwhelming. It may overwhelm still. One triumph lends her its strength, though: it worked. Her idea, her demented, impossible idea, worked. They have sung Wolf's Song. They have sung the song, and she is not dead. Yet. Gianna feels pride, feels it down to the core of her being. Her chin lifts. She did it. She did it again.

"The Price was Paid and the Price was Taken, so we declare his protection revoked." There's a thunderclap at the final word and the tendrils in the air reaching towards the moon sway in great pain. "He is guarded with old magic, protected from Death, and laced with the Great Slaver and stored in a thousand places among a thousand souls. He could be bound, imprisoned, but not slain in that form. All those he has chained would sustain him, forever housed in a prison using their chained souls." There is silence with a slow beat of the wings of the Kindly Voices, "We could shatter those shackles and make him vulnerable, of course. But not just those. It would shatter the shackles the world entire. All of them."

Ian's lips part at the prospect of all of the shackles of the world breaking. Even through his calm, there is some implication attached to this that makes his eyes widen a little bit with alarm. But he is here as a protector alone, a weapon. And so he says nothing.

Tikva looks sidelong at Aleksei and Chainbreaker as she grips Sorrel's hand, and then she turns, looking to Sen. Her lips part as though to summon words, and then she closes them again with a little click of teeth. "All the shackles," she whispers. "_All_ the bindings?" Each fragment of a chained soul seems to slice into her, deep into her gut, wielding its own guilt like the souls in the gargantuans she's never quite forgotten. It's a heady temptation as well as a terror.

One would expect a longer hesitation. Sen inhales, letting those words sink in, perhaps taking a moment to consider the ramifications - perhaps - but then her ears twist and push forward, and her teeth show. "Could a world still exist, if the chains of this one are broken?"

Nina looks around to the others, to see their reaction. She's never been the biggest on strategy. But to her, it seems like a good thing, the right choice. Her eyes glitter with some hope at the concept of shattering all shackles. What it would truly mean, perhaps she cannot say. "It is freedom that we've all been fighting for. Isn't it?"

Gianna looks up at the Winged Figure, her brow briefly furrowing. Somewhere amid all the mental back-patting she's giving herself, she realizes this is probably cause for alarm. But it's out of her hands. She looks, then, to Sen.

"Every. Last. One." The hundreds of voices echo in unison, and even Fox looks a little terrified by the implications. "The world would live on. Sorrow and joy, despair and hope, war and peace. A time of chaos, to pave the way for a better world some would claim. They could be wrong.

The Kindly Voices gesture up at the moon. "Destiny is dead, and will not be reborn. The future is not written. We can guess, we can wager, bue future will be in your hands. That would be your tragedy and your triumph."

Tikva nods slowly, her bright eyes strangely becoming wet now, as they dart to Nina, and then back to Sen again. Mesmerized by just how hard this choice is, riotously tempted despite all the strictures on which society is built. "He would have trapped the world. To trap him could be justice. But the pieces of soul with him... the ones he took. They'd never be free. We have to break them all if we're going to break those. Sacrifice them again. Twice sacrificed, like the gargantuans."

"Freedom for all is terrifying. Is it the right thing?" Sorrel murmurs, looking to Tikva as if just having someone human to focus upon is comforting. "Maybe it is. Break the bonds of all, regardless of master. Of those who have been bound by writ for good or for ill. Perhaps we risk ruin. Ruin. Perhaps we risk mayhem. But it will be the dawn of a new age."

Ian finally finds his voice: "What of Ruin? Leviathan? Oblivion?"

"The future in our hands? Well, I actually like the sound of that," Nina says. "...The uncertainty is painful. It will be work to build. But we can make our own way in that reborn world." She listens to what Tikva says, and considers, but then nods to Sorrel, agreeing with her comment about the new dawn.

Quenia takes a sharp breath inward as she listens to the Voices speak to Sen'azala about shackles breaking. Her brow knits together. "There's both good and bad in it," she remarks quietly in the background. "Those who've been bound away who would do us harm would be freed again to do so, but at the same time.... all those people freed.... wouldn't it be worth it?" she asks, bringing voice to the things people aren't speaking. The tragedy and the triumph. "With things not written, different choices can be made."


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The Great Book of Endings that has risen above the world suddenly slams shut. It floats in the sky for a long moment then bursts into flame as it shrinks, pages burning away into ash that litters in a falling rain all throughout the Compact.
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"...Fable," Gianna breathes. "But what will that mean?"

There's only a breath this time. "Every. Last. One," Sen echoes. Affirms. Chooses. "Break them, Kindly Three. *Break them*. Every chain. Every slaver. Every slave free. We will sing our own songs, and write our own stories. *Break them*."

Ian looks, for a moment, genuinely shaken by Sen's choice. But it's just a breath of time, before resolution replaces that shudder of fear. If this is what the world will be, he will meet it as it comes.

Fox quietly says one word looking concerned, "Shit." Then after a moment Fox is chipper, "Ah, well Wolf will like it. Nefer'khet is really nice this time of year, so I might leave you to Arvum if that goes down."

Nina claps her hands a few times as Sen says her decisive words. Her eyes glitter in wonderment and fear.

Tikva resonates to this final note like a bell stricken by a hammer, vibrating down to her bones. Every last one. "We're going to find out," she whispers. She's smiling now, and the tears are coming anyways, and this may be what going mad feels like, but--. Every last one. She grips Sorrel's hand. If a handhold can say anything, this one says, omg.

Gianna turns her head and flicks her gaze sidelong to Fox. Her lips part, like she might ask a question, but she falls silent again. Out of her hands.

Quenia takes one step closer to Sen'azala in what seems to be support. She doesn't go further than that. She glances briefly over at Fox's alarm, and while she does support Sen's decision, that doesn't mean she's not registering her own sort of alarm within. She'll just express that later. It's one crisis at at time, per usual, that she's able to handle. This one before them is it.