James Davis - Circle of Skulls

Sathariel shook with rage, his wings eclipsing the last of the room's light. The wizard's audacity was almost fragrant, like so many challenges Sathariel had accepted in the throne rooms of dark gods without question, but despite all, he remained patient. He felt threads upon threads tightening into a weave he had worked to orchestrate over centuries, and he would not let the arrogance of one human deny him the fires he so desired to set in Waterdeep.

"Let us not assume too much," he answered at length, drawing close to the averted gaze of the wizard. "The prophecy of the First Flensing was written centuries ago, divinely inspired by our master. You should have more faith."

"Faith in what, pray tell?" Tallus asked.

"That you are superfluous to our requirements, less than a footnote in Asmodeus's great plans," Sathariel replied, enjoying the twitch in the archmage's eye. "You were merely convenient and far less than ideal. We applaud your duplicity and eagerness to be of service, but do not estimate your worth as too much higher than the drying remains of young Gorrick. Be grateful you have lived this long."

Tallus turned and limped back up the stairs. Sathariel found the scent of the human's fury delightful and ascended in his wake, amused also at the scent of blood on Tallus's hands. There was blood and something else, something sweet-perfume. The angel chuckled, the susurrus of his laughter hissing through the remains of the archmage's tower.

"Find something amusing?" the wizard asked from the doorway.

"Indeed. It is a riddle, one that I look forward to being answered," he replied, rising into the tower, the whoosh of his wings stirring up the dust into tiny whirlwinds.

"Where are you going?"

"Worry not, human," Sathariel said, his voice booming through the tower as he rose toward the shattered roof. "We have not placed all of our faith upon you, and I have others to visit this night."

He broke through the remains of rotted rafters, winging into the night and leaving the aging wizard to stare after him, confused and mystified.

Good, he thought.

He banked south over Sea Ward, gazing upon the whole of Waterdeep, his appointed place to watch over and cultivate for his master. As the mortals below shivered in their beds and awoke to the horrendous murders of morning, they would scramble for meaning and search for the guilty. Sathariel almost pitied their ignorance, their fascination with the insignificant details of a crime that served only to trap their attention.

"All is well," he whispered, and he began a slow descent, to one last meeting before dawn.

NIGHTAL 22, THE YEAR OF DEEP WATER DRIFTING (1480 DR)

Jinn sat quietly in the pale light filtering through the cracks of the hidden sewer entrance. The stone floor was cold but thankfully dry, one of the few spots free of the city's sludge, if not its stench. He stared at his hands as if he'd never seen them before, their pale, ivory skin and the deep black whorls that reached across his wrist from beneath the sleeves of his coat. His palms bore few of the creases he had witnessed in others, only a few prominent lines crossing from finger to thumb, the marks of a short life in a body forged by mystic forces he might never understand. The prints of his fingertips were like none he'd seen-save one-and seemed too false, a manufactured show-a god's estimate of flesh that had no understanding of mortality or suffering or the scars of a long life.

Night black hair, the match of his skin's designs, fell into his golden eyes as he pondered the hands that had worked so hard for so long to do what was right.

He blinked, not turning as a pained gasp echoed through the tunnel behind him. Tight, leather straps creaked in the shadows as muscles flexed, knotting as an old man applied the gentle pressure of the torturous art to the flesh of Lucian Dregg. Something wet slapped to the floor, near the edge of the thick sewage, cast aside as Briarbones worked. Dregg whimpered.

Jinn stared into the dark at the indiscernible lump of meat, the shape of it providing no clues as to its origins or purpose, though its future was certain. The deva could hear rats gathering to the south, drawn to the scent of blood. Tiny wisps of steam rose from the flesh, cooling as the work behind Jinn continued.

"Who am I?" he said under his breath, studying his hands and trying to see the immortal spirit beneath them, the celestial soul he had stained while working for the greater good.

"You are yourself, I assume," Briarbones replied absently, muttering as he worked. Dregg was eerily quiet. "I have heard of devas driven mad, unable to recollect the details of a current incarnation and lost in a veritable eternity of identities, all only half remembered. But such cases, I do believe, are rare. You appear to be quite lucid, so I doubt you are so afflicted."

"And are you aware of devas who have lost their way? Turned to evil?" Jinn asked, knowing the answer in his blood but needing to hear it said out loud, confirmed by someone other than the doubting voice in the back of his mind.

"Demons. Rakshasas. Foul spirits, trapped in infinite existences and cut off from whatever wellspring of power kept them in the world. Damned," Briar replied, and Jinn nodded, exhaling as the words were spoken and letting them echo in his thoughts, something to remember as he walked the fine line between light and dark, something to remind him of his lost Variel. "I believe he is ready to speak now. I must admit, he resisted far more than I had predicted."

"Hate and ignorance can make a man strong," Jinn said as he stood. "But only for a short time."

He approached the human, strapped to a wooden table, bleeding slowly, a testament to the precise skill of Briarbones. Each breath came as a desperate gulp. Dregg was a murderer and a conspirator to murders, the very antithesis of everything Allek Marson stood for, yet Jinn found he could not help but pity the man-and in that moment, he valued his pity. Leaning close, he kept the wide eyes of Dregg focused on him.

"Tell me about the archmage," he said, an edge in his voice suggesting he would not hesitate to punish the human for lying.

"Tallus… g-gives them power. The circle of skulls," Dregg stammered, his pained gaze fierce and unwavering. "He helps them to kill… only certain families. Like the Marsons."

"Why did you help him?" Jinn asked.

"He promised me power… and wealth," the human spat. "I was to assist Rorden Marson, keep the killings quiet, until Allek grew nervous, started looking for answers in the wrong places."

"So they removed him, making way for you," Jinn supplied, careful to keep his hands at his sides, lest he choke the human. "What else? Tell me what I want to hear, and your pain will end."

"My pain will end?" Dregg asked, incredulous, chuckling and coughing on his own blood, flecks of it spattering on his chin. "Say what you mean, deva. You will kill me."

Jinn stood back, narrowing his eyes. "All right," he said at length. "I will kill you, but before you die, tell me who you would like to join you? Who failed you such that you have fallen to this place?"

Dregg's breathing slowed as he was taken aback by the question.

"Tallus," he said quickly. "He used me, lied to me. And he uses her…"

"Who?" Jinn asked, leaning close again, though he suspected the answer.

"Rilyana-Rilyana Saerfynn," the human answered, sighing in between heaving breaths. "He lusts after her, though he knows she is mine, and he forces her to choose. She chooses those to be taken by the skulls, marks them for possession. If she had refused, Tallus would have slain her brother. All I could do was make sure she was never investigated, but then Rorden Marson started to get too close…"

Jinn removed the bound letters from his coat, the discourse between Rilyana and Allek that stood in stark contrast to all he had witnessed. He wondered how close Dregg and Rilyana had been, wondered if the man's desire had crafted a relationship that didn't truly exist except within his own arrogance-but then, Jinn had seen them together. It seemed that if Rilyana had been too frightened to resist, she might have sought help from Allek, and if they had somehow fallen in love