Anger is possibly the most deadly of all emotions. Those who wield it with abandon are not likely to ever be kind, even for a moment. And those who fail to see this shall be the first to be consumed by those who lead with its unbridled power.

Lord Duusk of High Caann

The crowd rose into an explosive and unified chant of approval. Seven Imperial soldiers, linked wrist to wrist on a long heavy chain, were escorted out on to the bare earthen floor of the arena. The prisoners were far less enthused at the situation than the throngs awaiting the display they would soon be forced to put on.

Governor Farust's box of honor was front row and center to the soon to commence festivities. Appearing to have been hastily constructed, it consumed the wooden benches used for seating all throughout the arena some ten spaces across and six rows back. The only portion of the seating for the battleground to be covered, a cloth stretched overhead had seen better days. Now it sported holes in haphazard locations and its dye was faded from remaining out in the beating sun.

Despite seating for over fifty, however, only Ola and the six out of towners who had recently come seeking her help were occupying the space. The region's governor struck an almost regal pose, standing and waving to the crowd while at the same time egging on their enthusiasm for carnage.

"Come on!" she cried out to the packed house surrounding them. The assembled throng was already booing quite boisterously at the men being marched around on display in the pit below them. "Show these Imperial scum what we really think of them!"

With that, the cat calls grew and continued while anyone in possession of rotten fruit and vegetables began hurling said garbage at the reluctant performers. Some actually struck the chained soldiers with varying degrees of reaction. But most fell well short or were wildly off target.

Sheala noted how none of the soon to be combatants really looked all that different from anyone else who may have been present. There was nothing about them that outwardly spoke to them being "Imperial scum." Aside, that was, from looking like they had been manhandled fairly roughly and regularly for however long they had been in captivity. Just unlucky soldiers who apparently drew the shortest straw in life and were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"So, what's this, 'big surprise' you have for us tonight?" Sheala asked, not really sure what to think of the experience she was preparing to endure.

Ola reclaimed her seat between Sheala and Reane. "Oh, it's actually a double surprise. But I don't want to spoil it."

Sheala detested the cat-and-mouse response. "Guess it wouldn't be a surprise then if you did."

"Most certainly it wouldn't be!"

Their forced march at an end, the prisoners were now lined up in front of Ola Farust's box for her cursory examination. Something she did with an unneeded air of intense seriousness.

About half the men looked down at the dirt, averting their eyes during the process. All but one of the rest glanced with nervous attention to the crowd. That one remaining Imperial soldier stared back. The only one with any amount of courage to do so.

"Ah, Corporal Dynar," Ola locked eyes with him. "So good to see you could join us for another round."

The man continued staring back, and Sheala could have sworn she heard him growl at the taunt. Even over the roar of the crowd.

Ola stood once more. Raising her hands, she fluttered them out at her sides like wings and downward to silence the spectators ready and eager for the festivities to begin. Once they had subdued themselves suitably, she rolled right into a speech, perhaps prepared, but probably not.

"Citizens of Koroth Ulin, Stronghold of Resistance, the mighty and unyielding Gem of Koroth, I welcome you!" She bowed, and again the packed house erupted. However, it did not last long as Ola hushed them in much the same fashion as before. "Tonight, we have an unusual treat for you. Not only is Corporal Dynar making his record setting ninth appearance before us, but we also have a special mystery combatant." The crowd oohed in unison at the insinuation. "And this guest, is unlike any that I think you've ever seen before. Now, rather than these Imperial scum fighting amongst themselves, as they usually do, they will be instead pitted, all seven of them, against this one adversary. So who is this mystery man, you ask? Who could take on seven at once and hope to survive?" Ola wagged her finger at the crowd. "Not a man. But a beast!"

Her announcement sent the mob into a frenzy that rippled through those assembled.

The governor waited for the crowd's excitement to die down, striking a cocked and impatient pose until they did so. "A beast so mighty, so hideous to set eyes upon," she announced. "That it could only come from legend and nightmares combined. Behold!" On that command, a pair of doors slowly opened at the end of the arena. It took six large and struggling men, three on each gate, pushing with all their might, to open them. From the shadows of the tunnel beyond, a massive cage was rolled towards the battlefield by still more men. It shook as the imposing shadow within slammed against the bars over and over again, rattling it nearly off its wheels. "I present to you the Bull Man!"

Sheala bolted up out of her seat, watching as Korg came into view and struggled against the cage. His arms were held in check by four attendants on each side grasping long poles tipped with nooses around his wrists. Even being so confined, the otaur was still able to drag the men more than they walked.

"Let him go." Sheala whirled on Ola, who was smiling at how whipped up the crowd now was.

"What? Let him go?" their host asked with a genuine curiosity. "And why should I want to do that? Do you know how many men it took to subdue that beast? Letting him go is not an option." Ola folded her arms with a final that's that posture.

"I said, let him go. He is a friend of ours."

"A friend? Of yours? Oh dear." Ola tsked. "That won't do at all. I cannot believe you are 'friends' with such an animal."

"He's very intelligent, thank you. And, I'm sorry to tell you, but these men don't stand a chance against him. Especially if you plan on allowing for a fair contest."

"You wound me with such accusations." Ola placed a hand over her heart and made a mocking pouty face which was completely unbecoming her. "Of course it will be a fair fight. What do you take me for? Now, if you don't mind? Would you kindly have a seat? I have a show to put on."

Reane leaned forward, but did not stand as she joined in the plea, trying a new, simpler angle to the negotiation. "Governor Farust, how much would it take for you to release our friend? Whatever you ask, we'll pay it."

"How much?" Ola laughed. "More than you have! Do you know what the gate was alone for tonight? And I fully expect the beast to win and thus draw a similar crowd for some time to come."

Restraints released and the attendants bolting for cover, the otaur shattered open the gate of the cage and jumped free as the attendants exited through the quickly closing arena doors. The roar sent forth drew fearful gasps through the throng. Meanwhile, the imperial prisoners led by Corporal Dynar scrambled for an assortment of nearby weapons and squared off while Korg showed less interest in them and surveyed the surroundings.

Sheala rushed to the railing, lingering there while her and Korg's eyes locked and the other prisoners closed in on the unarmed otaur. She turned and barked once more at the governor. "Let him go."

"No." Governor Farust folded her arms again and leaned back.

While everyone else who had come with her seeking the governor's help seemed paralyzed by indecision, Sheala did what she did best and simply reacted. Hurling herself over the rail, she landed on the dirt floor a little harder than she anticipated. Mostly due to the weight of her armor compared to the lightweight attire she once wore as a thief.

Gaining her footing, she dashed forward towards the line of Imperial soldiers with their backs to her and facing Korg. The otaur was now bracing for an attack, having figured out what was going on. He followed it up by issuing a challenging roar at those advancing upon and slowed their advance.

'Sheala shouldered one of the prisoners out of the way as she broke their line and didn't stop until she was at Korg's side. "Geez. Leave you alone for a couple days and look at the trouble you get yourself into."

Korg snorted a couple times.

"Oh yeah, sure. I almost believe that you have everything under control."

Then came a growl.

Sheala drew forth her sword, turning to face the Imperial prisoners and the silversteel gleaming. "Yeah? And was getting captured part of that plan? Where's Sheetah?"

As though waiting for that exact question, out of a puff of bluish fog, the diminutive blue dragon appeared and latched on to the face of one of the imperial prisoners, taking him down in a spray of blood from claws tearing at tender and exposed flesh.

Sheala took the initiative from that and rushed at the line of conscripted gladiators still advancing. Korg quickly overtook her with much longer strides which thudded in the dirt. The otaur bashed the heads of two of the men together to even the odds a little bit.

Reane and the others began finding their way over the railing and into the pit to further assist.

Korg hurled another one of the prisoners ten feet through the air. The bone cracking thud of him hitting the ground could be heard above the mixture of reactions from the crowd. It left no doubt about how that particular prisoner would not be soon to rejoin the fray.

Sheala engaged with Corporal Dynar, each blocking steel with their own weapons. "What are you doing?" The way his complaint was yelled spoke to his confusion. "We'll all be killed!"

"Maybe you will be, but I'll take my chances." With the fist of her free hand, Sheala staggered the Corporal with a head rocking punch to the nose . On the ground and disarmed, she leveled the point of her brilliant blade at him. "Yield," she said with a smug smile, "And I'll make sure my friend here doesn't pull your arms out of their sockets."

With a quick look around, the corporal saw that all the other prisoners were either dead, incapacitated, or held at the point of a sword by one of Sheala's companions. Much as he was. Thus, he made no further moves of aggression.

Sheala glanced up to the box where Ola Farust stood watching the unexpected entertainment. The look on her face, however, was one that Sheala couldn't quite place. It was a bizarre cross of disappointment, pleasure, and even expectation. Sheala hated it and the way it made her blood chill.

"I think we'll be taking our leave now," Sheala said while continuing to stare down the governor and trying to look just as menacing as the woman glaring back. "With our supplies, and our friend here."

Sheetah scampered on to Sayra's shoulder. "Good girl," the elf rewarded the dragon with the kind words, and a pat on the head.

The fact that their host seemed impassive at the statement caused Sheala an occasion to pause. It was in that moment she realized that there was an entire cadre of archers rung around the uppermost row of the arena. Each had an arrow nocked and pointed down on them. A definite reason for the governor to be as smug as she seemed to be.

But then something else caught Sheala's attention. Something that had been completely missed by her while in the heat of acting and rushing to assist Korg. It was a familiar and soothing warmth, one emanating from the medallion around her neck and hang upon her chest.

Sheala grappled for the enchanted jewelry, drawing it out. The warmth was not her imagination—not in the least. It was real.

Overhead, a shadow soared and consumed the sky. Long, leathery wings glided by, preceded by a scaly black head and trailed by a long, whipping draconian tail. It didn't stop, but passed over the arena, gathering awe inspired gasps from the crowd moments before the audience began tripping over themselves to flee.

But the ominous dragon showed no interest in attacking.

Circling back after passing over the tournament space, both it and rider descended outside beyond the doors where the cage containing Korg had been wheeled in from and that had since been closed.

"Oh, shit," Sheala cursed.

"A trap," Reane continued when further words failed Sheala. "And we fell right into it."

"Wait," Sheala spun on the government, "you mean to tell me that in order to protect yourself from the Empire, you struck a deal with them?"

With her ruse uncovered, Ola stood straight and proud, sporting a wide smile. "That's right, child. General Nightwing has guaranteed Koroth Ulin will be spared. And all I had to do was turn you over to her."

Sheala stormed towards the governor's box, halting as three arrows from archers piercing into the ground at her feet. "You don't understand what you're doing."

"I don't?" The insinuation drew out one of Ola's hearty laughs. "Child, you're the one that doesn't understand. The Rebellion is over. Lord Hedric has already won. Why delay the inevitable? And your capture, Child of the Storm, ensures that. As well as Koroth Ulin's continued independence from Imperial control."

Anthony stood in the arena to Sheala's left, adding to her voice. "You're a fool, Governor. General Nightwing doesn't strike deals with rebels. You know that."

"And who says we're rebels any more? You? Based on what?"

"You turned your back on the Rebellion?"

"No, no, no, no." The governor shook her head. "It was the Rebellion who turned their back on us. After all of these years, what has the Rebellion brought? Death? Destruction? Constant fear of the looming inevitability of the Empire?"

"You're wrong." Anthony pointed to the medallion Sheala was still clutching. "You know what this necklace the Child of the Storm wears and what it means. And what will happen if it falls into the wrong hands. Hands which you have now brought upon us?"

"If you think to sway me in some last-minute hope for conversion, then you think wrong, Anthony Rodan. Or should I say Nador?"

The sound of the large doors across the arena being opened once more forced all remaining heads to turn. Although there were not many left other than those within the arena's pit, the governor, and her archers.

General Nightwing strode in, pushing the doors open herself without assistance. A feat that appeared unlikely, but happened none-the-less. Her red hair was tied back to keep it from whipping in the wind as she rode on dragonback to her destination and a confrontation that fate always deemed inevitable.

There was a long silence until Cassandra was certain she was within a distance to where her voice could be heard without raising it too far. "Well, well, well." She held her arms out towards Sheala as though perhaps seeking a hug. "If it isn't my long-lost sister. Oh, how I have waited for this day."

Sheala stepped towards her, stopping briefly to calm Korg who seemed ready to pounce. "It's ok," she told the otaur. "I'll be fine." Then she turned back to her twin and leveled harsh criticism towards her minutes younger sister while sheathing her sword. "Cassandra, what are you doing?"

The two young women halted and squared up not more than five feet from each other, looking so much alike and so unlike at the same time. "Are you done playing games with these traitors?" Cassandra asked pointedly.

"Cassandra, listen to me—"

"No!" The voice Cassandra replied with was like thunder sent from the gods. "You don't know what's going on and how you've been lied to. Come with me." The general held out a hand. "The truth will be told. And I'll consider sparing your friends for another day. But, sadly, not indefinitely."

"Cass, stop." Sheala turned and cast Brentai a forlorn glance, one that came with a tear. "You can't do this. It's not you. I know you."

"You know nothing of me, sister. While you've been off doing gods know what, and now throwing in with traitors, I've been working to avenge mother and father."

"Avenge them?"

"Yes. By bringing those who were responsible for their death, for our loss, to justice."

"Cass? No, no."

A throaty growl preceded Cassandra's coming words. "Every last rebel will die for what they did to us."

"It's not true. Cass, it's not true. Uncle showed me the truth. It wasn't the rebels. It was—" Sheala tried to reach out and take hold of her sister.

The hand was slapped away. "I know the truth. I don't know what Uncle told you, sister. But I am sure it was a lie. Like everything else he ever said and did."

"Cass, stop."

Again the general held out her hand. "Come with me, and your friends live today."

"Cass, I—" Sheala turned her eyes down, tears growing heavier, torn by a reality she thought would be and what actually was. This wasn't how she envisioned being rejoined with her sister. She looked back as Cassandra who was a rock of dispassion and a stark contrast to the emotions welling inside her. "I can't."

"You can." Cassandra reached out a placed a firm hand on her sister's arm. "And you will."

The grip was painful, like a vice. Something inhuman. Sheala wanted to scream under the force of it. "Cass, stop, you're hurting me." Sheala tried to drop to a knee, but Cassandra held her up, intensifying the pain.

Korg came at the two women, reaching for Cassandra to try to free her from her sister. But something stopped him. It wasn't Cassandra's icy stare that froze the otaur, though.

He ceased his attempt a hair's breath away from them, eyes revealing a deep pondering of what was happening.

"Interesting." Cassandra didn't so much as even flinch under the theat. "Your pet seems uncertain."

"He senses who you are, Cass. Your medallion." Sheala spoke to sooth Korg. "It's ok, I told you, I'm fine." Those words were, however, spoken through continuing pain from Cassandra's grip on her. Then Sheala spoke to her sister once more. "He's a guardian. One who will protect us."

"I don't need protection."

"Cass, please—"

A crack across the elder sister's face was how Cassandra responded to the continuing delay. "Enough! You're coming with me."

Brentai stepped towards at that moment, drawing two of his knives. "I don't think so. Let her be."

"Please, Pelsan, don't try to be a hero." Cassandra's tone was condescending at the purposefully intended interference. "I promised her you could live, for now. Don't make me kill you here."

"Brentai—"

Another belt across Sheala's face from her sister. It was purely instinctual, a habit from years of not tolerating disobedience.

"Hit her again," Brentai swore with another step forward. "And it will be the last thing you ever do."

Cassandra tossed her sister roughly to the arena floor. "Please, you wouldn't stand a chance against me. I—"

Without another word, Cassandra's face twitched. Her mouth wavered in an attempt to say more. But no sound was forthcoming.

"Cass?" Sheala scrambled to her sister, standing there like a statue. "Cass?"

"I suggest," Reane groaned. "We all," she paused again, "make haste and get out of here."

Everyone turned to the seer. She was straining, one hand to her temple and her other arm outstretched with fingers splayed. As though she had Cassandra on strings like a puppet. Knees partially buckled, the veins in her face were blue and pulsing as they pumped the extra blood her body was feeding her mind away and back to her heart.

Anthony went to her, steadying her. He looked at Governor Farust, who seemed equally frozen, as did the archers. "Reane?"

"I don't know how long I can hold this," she replied. "Hold all of them. It... it's painful."

"Reane?"

The seer stumbled and fell partly into his arms, but still managed to maintain control even as Cassandra's body shook with an attempt to be free. Then Reane gave some prudent advice no one else had considered. "Might I suggest someone grab her medallion? One, we're going to need it to get into the shrine. And two, if we leave it with her, she can use it to track us."

"We're not leaving my sister!" Sheala cried out, half reaching for her twin but holding back. "Not now. Not after finding her!"

"We must," Sayra pleaded with the elder of the twins. "She's not going to allow us to leave peacefully. And you will not convince her to do so at this time."

Sheala, stunned, gathered her wits and nodded, understanding the sound reasoning as though a spark of calming and rationality fell over her. Approaching her frozen sister, the anger evident in her twin's eyes was unmistakable. Sheala knew then and there she did not want to be on the receiving end of that outrage and that what Sayra said was true.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Cass." With that apology given, Sheala found the necklace around the general's neck, pulled the medallion, identical to hers, from under her armor, snapped the chain and took it.

At that, it was almost as if Cassandra winced without wincing, and Sheala could sense a darkness swell up around her sister's very soul. She stood there, not wanting to leave her sister after finding her again after all these years. But it was Reane's next prudent words that told her she must.

"We have to go. Now!"