Interlude III

Sevastian Lecrae was running out of time.

The seers all told of the same thing, and if he wasn’t powerful enough to stop it before it came, then no one would be. He needed Unawakened. He needed their Names. He needed power, and time was running out to get it. And yet, time after time, it seemed fate itself was acting against him. In three attempts, somehow, every single Sa’Qari to-be was either not present, not actually an Unawakened, or was so thoroughly sheltered that they were unattainable. Somehow, he always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Something more had to be going on. Someone or something wanted to ensure he failed. Someone or something wanted to see the Hieracracy destroyed.

Perhaps it should, he thought. It would serve them right for what they did to us Yyshani. But no. Justice and retribution were for times when much greater things weren’t at stake. Save the world first. Sort out the discipline later.

Tonight would probably be his last chance. If he didn’t get at least a few before the attack was repulsed, then it was certain that all would be lost. It would no longer be a matter of if, but when. It may take weeks, or years, but the Hieracracy would undoubtedly fall. From what, he wasn’t certain. No one was. Even the best prescients in the country could see little more than glimpses at shadows. But fall it would, and the results would be catastrophic.

Sevastian surveyed the lines of blightwraiths in front of him, their lamp-like eyes and twisted black forms standing in perfect lockstep, awaiting instructions. In all previous attempts, he’d tried to be sparing in their use. Deploy only a handful at a time, take what was needed, and leave. He regretted the death and destruction their use caused. The sights and sounds of violence kept him up far more nights than he cared to admit. But the seers were clear- if he acted by any other means, then the fall would come sooner. How, again, was beyond their ability to perceive. But there was no doubt.

Tonight, he would not be trying to show such restraint. Now that that incompetent fool Harkam was no longer giving him bad information, he was certain there would be seven or eight Unawakened at the temple ceremony in Ashmark. That would be enough to give him the means he needed to change the course from the end that was coming. If these fools didn’t give him what he wanted, then he was not going to give them a chance to resist him this time. Their temple and their armed priests could stop twenty wraiths. There was not a chance they could stop three hundred.

A faint sound in the distance drew his attention, and he turned in the direction of the town in the distance. A scout on horseback stopped a few hundred paces distance, surveying his lines, before wheeling his horse around and galloping back. Sevastian smiled. The scout could warn them all he wanted. There would be no stopping him.

It was now approaching twilight. He raised his hand above his head, and every blightwraith tensed in unison. It was time to commit a small evil in the name of a greater good.

He dropped his hand, and a tide of blightwraiths surged past him in a roar of limbs and shrieks and claws, and he followed after.

May the gods have mercy on him for his sins.