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12th Sun's Dawn
I guessed their purpose when a half-dozen guards led me down here at the points of their swords; these were members of my personal guard, who have protected me all my life, and they would see that I live the rest of my days under the dirt.
Volraine, perhaps the kindest of my caretakers in my youth, put a hand to my shoulder as we walked that long flight of stairs down to the Banished Cells. I was beside myself, quivering, and he believed I was afraid.
He was mistaken. It was rage that overtook me, not fear, and as I stepped off the last stair, their swords still to my back, I spun around and released that rage.
Volraine died almost instantly, engulfed in a cloud of flame, his scream muted by the roar of my destruction spell. As the next guard leapt over Volraine's burning remains, I turned his sword away with a bolt of lightning to the throat, and the weapon slid neatly into the chest of a third guard. It stunned me how warm the blood was. Suddenly my hands were covered in it, and I marveled at the balmy fluid. It was like wearing the finest velvet gloves in the land, and it amused me to no end. For the first time since my capture, I laughed. I roared.
Eventually, they sent another contingent of guards to search for the first. By then, I had decided I would stay—for a little while, at least. I wanted to see the looks on their faces when they found the bodies of their comrades.