Ketheric made no attempt to resist. The old general simply stood there, then closed his eyes, spread his arms, and sank to one knee, signaling that Aylin could strike.
Ketheric had lived for his wife and daughter, and he would die for them. He had worshiped Selûne for them, and betrayed Selûne for them. In his younger years, he had governed diligently for them; now, he intended to sacrifice the people and army of Moonrise Towers for them as well.
Now that he had seen Isobel resurrected with his own eyes, the old general had no regrets left.
If everything could end here, surely it would be a wonderful conclusion. My daughter would inherit my lands and become their ruler. I could bear these unspeakable sins in her place, preserve our family's honor, and allow the Thorm family to continue ruling Moonrise Towers.
The dream was beautiful. Reality was brutal.
Lady Aylin spread her wings in the air. Bearing Selûne's wrath, those angelic wings carried the divine Aasimar down in a glide, ready to give Ketheric a dignified end-when shadows suddenly appeared.
A strange mass of shadows enveloped the old general. A long whip reached out from the empty darkness and tore a rift through space. Divine power from the Shadowfell erupted, scattering trails of ghostly fire through the air. Howling shadows surged into a tidal shock wave that repelled every attack aimed at Ketheric. Amid a flurry of angelic feathers, Lady Aylin slammed into the floor, leaving a deep crater in the carpeted hall.
The surrounding people were struck by the shock wave as well, and many fell to the floor. Yet their physical injuries paled beside the shock to their minds. Amid the wails and shrieks of hundreds upon thousands of shadowy energy beings, Shar, the Lady of