Penndarius's mind was working at full speed as he and Soren were escorted by the White Guard, who carved a path through the growing crowds in the streets of Deiyil. His thoughts raced from one end of his memory to the other as he searched for clues. Why would a Speaker of Dol'ron wish to see them? What had they done to garner such attention, he wondered, and what was that strange image in his mind? It was so visceral and felt so real that he could still smell the rain in the air and the humid heat that touched his skin.

A slap across the back of his head woke him from his reverie.

"Oy! Eyes front!" a guardsman yelled from behind him.

Aedan placed his hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "That is enough, James. He is complying," he said calmly, turning a genuine smile on Penndarius. "I am sorry," he apologized.

"Sometimes they can be a bit overzealous." He walked away to speak softly with Jadice.

Penndarius noticed that Aedan carried himself with a quiet air of authority that was not shared by his twin in the plate armor. They were a strange contrast to each other, and Penndarius tucked the information away into his mind.

Soren was being pushed forward by guards until he was next to Penndarius. "I thought you were leaving," Penndarius said with a smile.

"Damn, boy...keep your mouth shut!" Soren replied, scowling.

Penndarius smiled to himself but did not press the crimson warrior further.

A guardsman tapped Penndarius on the back with the haft of his spear as they walked.

Penndarius winced, which caused Soren to grin.

"Keep it down, you two!" warned the guard.

Aedan approached again and placed his hand on Penndarius's shoulder strongly as further warning.

Suddenly Penndarius felt a strange crawling sensation at the back of neck that caused him to look up. He strained his eyes, and for the briefest moment he thought he saw something very big, like a large animal, crawling along the rooftops. Then it was gone.

The guardsmen led Penndarius and Soren to an open plaza at a major intersection that was ornamented with a small fountain. The most prominent structure there was a massive and solidly built square building made of white stone bricks with wooden supports. The edifice was three stories tall, with windows in each story.

Aedan patted Penndarius on the back. "Welcome to what might be your new home," he said congenially.

The guards led Soren and Penndarius to a set of large, solid, wooden double doors, and they stepped from the smooth, white stone of the road to a cobbled version of the same. On the other side, the area was sparsely decorated; the minimalist appearance was marred only by a heavy wooden desk at the center, surrounded by bars that seemed to be there to protect the occupant from the outside, rather than to keep someone in. The air had a heavy scent of oil used to treat armor, and the rank smell of stagnant water wafted up from the dungeons below.

The area was crowded with at at least thirty White Guardsmen, dragging or accompanying prisoners as they came and went through the keep. A faint din of conversation pervaded.

An elderly woman sat at the desk inside the bars. She was sifting through papers when Aedan and Jadice entered with their soldiers and the detainees. She adjusted her large glasses and squinted at them.

"Names?" she asked in a dispassionate tone.

Aedan approached and perched on the outer counter with a flourish. "What is a beautiful woman like you doing here, Dorice?" he asked in a mock flirtatious manner. "Oh, stop, Your Lordship!" She laughed, her stern demeanor broken.

Jadice walked up behind Aedan and rolled his brother off the counter with a disapproving look. "Penndarius Greyson and…" He turned back and looked at Soren, who raised an eyebrow.

"...Soren Luna Mortalitas," he said.

Aedan rolled his eyes and went back to the troop, which headed deeper into the citadel and up a wide flight of solidly built wooden stairs. Jadice followed just behind them.

The hallway was bustling with guards, each with a black club strapped at his waist. Some were moving prisoners to and from offices or holding cells on various floors.

The group walked up to the top floor and then turned to the right and continued along a stone hallway. They passed many offices on their way, and the decor seemed to become grander looking. Simple engraved wood signs identifying the undecorated doors gave way to goldtrimmed curtains, etchings with precious metals, and rich rugs that lined the formerly sparse stone floors.

Penndarius remembered that Jadice had said something about taking them to meet Diametries. If he recalled correctly from his knowledge of various religious orders, Diametries was the First Speaker of Dol'ron, the god that presided over the realm of justice and retribution. Why did he have an interest in Penndarius's writings? Was it a coincidence or a clue to something more, he wondered?

"Do you mind if I ask you a question, sir?" the scholar asked Aedan politely.

"Why not?" Aedan responded with an amicable smile.

Penndarius took a few moments to collect his thoughts, then asked, "Have you thought about why we have been running? Do you think it strange that assassins tried to kill us, and now the first Speaker of Dol’ron himself wants to speak with us?"

Aedan did not answer, but the look he gave Penndarius left no doubt that the seed had been planted in the White Guard captain’s sharp mind and that he was contemplating what Penndarius had said.

They rounded the corner and found themselves in front of a door that was stamped with a golden hammer. Aedan opened the door.

"Inside!" Jadice commanded, pressing Penndarius and Soren into the room.

The office was square, with pillars at all four sides that left room to move behind them.

There were bookshelves on the walls, and the area between the door and the desk was open space. A window situated behind the desk let in the light of the midday suns. Heavy red-and-gold rugs covered the floor, and the perfume of rose-scented candles covered up the perpetual damp smell from the dungeons.

When they went in, they were greeted by Diametries, who was sitting at a handsome desk. Behind the Speaker was his usually clandestine counterpart, Daymion. The assassin was wearing his silver moon insignia openly, and Diametries seemed not to care about his lack of secrecy.

Aedan narrowed his eyes when he saw Daymion, and the insignia on the assassin's chest did not escape him...nor did it escape Penndarius.

As the group entered, Soren caught Daymion’s eye, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. Soren bared his teeth and glared at his brother with anger. His eyes blazed with a furious fire, and it seemed as if he could see no one but Daymion in the room.

Daymion returned the look casually but almost smiled, as if he had something insidious planned. "Hello, Deartháir," he mouthed with a devious grin.

The use of the term sent Soren into a seething rage, and it took every ounce of strength the two guards next to Soren had to hold him back. The other two guardsmen saluted, and Aneurus turned to Jadice, who nodded for him to go. Aneurus exited with that pair of guards, leaving behind the two who were restraining Soren.

"Do you know who she is yet, Deartháir? The little girl in your dreams?" Daymion asked with a manipulative smirk.

The air crackled with almost palpable tension. Soren roared, “How dare you use that name?"

Jadice turned suddenly and clipped Soren across the jaw with his fist to stun him temporarily.

"You said you could control this!" Diametries snapped at Daymion in annoyance.

“I am doing exactly what needs to be done,” he replied.

Aedan cast Soren a wary glance, wrapped his hand around Penndarius' arm, and led him firmly ahead. "Is this the man you were looking for?" he asked the Speaker with suspicion.

"Is this the one called Penndarius?" Diametries asked as he stood and walked around the desk. Daymion followed behind him.

Diametries and Penndarius observed each other for the first time, and each examined the other from head to toe. Penndarius was seeking clues as to why he was there, while Diametries was trying to guage just who the scholar was and also looking for potential weaknesses.

Kestrel spoke up inside Diametries's head. "I smell an old scent...a familiar one, a foul one.

Rhea...," he breathed the realization, "...one of the betrayers!"

"My dear," a familiar voice said from within Penndarius's mind, "there is one like me inside the man before you."

Rhea! Penndarius breathed to himself, and he remembered the vivid dream from Ed's tower. If the deaths of his friends were reality, what had happened afterward? Was it real?

Diametries walked forward until the two of them were facing each other with only an arm's length between them. "You’ve been a difficult fellow to catch," he said.

Aedan watched the proceedings with rapt attention. Who was the forbidding, blackclothed man behind him? Had he been trying to find Penndarius before notifying the White Guard? Questions ran through his mind as he thought of the possible implications, and his doubts were growing by the second.

"Pity," Diametries said with a sneer of derision. "You had potential." He reached out to touch Penndarius.

Kestrel's malice was nearly palpable within the Speaker's mind. "Set me loose. I ache to wipe their souls from existence!" it snarled. "I want the hearts of the betrayer and her puppet!" Diametries touched the scholar's lapel and drew him close.

"Ready yourself, my dear," Rhea said inside Penndarius's mind.

For what? the scholar thought.

The events that followed were alien to all in the room who were corporeal. As Diametries touched him, Penndarius's eyes began to glow with a soft green light, and he started to shake as he strained against an unknown force that threatened to break loose as it gained intensity. His vision narrowed until all could see the emerald-colored beams of light. “What is happening?” he said through gritted teeth.

"What is this sorcery, Speaker?" Aedan asked warily.

Diametries's eyes then began to radiate a brilliant sapphire hue in response, matching the scholar’s intensity exactly. “And it begins,” he said.

The scholar’s head slowly tilted backwards, and he felt as though a spear had been rammed down his spine. His mouth opened as he tried to cry out from the rising fire that had been ignited deep within his soul. He struggled to speak, but his voice was gone.

The exchange of power between the scholar and the Speaker suddenly exploded, and a mix of deep blue and dark green energy charged the air around the two of them. Penndarius felt the now-familiar sensation of being driven unconscious.