Through muscle and bone, the blade ran through with a sickening slurp. It took all that he had to silence the cries that wanted to come from both himself and his father. Adarro’s body was racked with tears. Finally, once he felt the life leave his father, once the threads which held him turned cold, Adarro released him.

His father crumbled. Adarro caught him. He sank to his knees. As his tears overflowed, he didn’t try to hold them back. “I’m so sorry, Father. I’m so, so sorry. This was the only way.” He wiped his eyes. The hate in his heart he had for himself was terrible, an ache that threatened to overtake him. But he couldn’t let it, or this would have all been for nothing. He had to pull himself together.

Standing, he made sure not to get any blood on himself and took deep, measured breaths until his breathing was normal again. Control yourself, he thought. Composure breeds strength. Just as his father had taught him. There could be no doubt, no suspicion. He turned his back on his father for the last time and left out the window, back the way he came. He eased it closed behind him, then rushed back through the garden to the courtyard and back inside the manor. Two guards stood at either side of the doors. He hoped he appeared composed and normal because everything hinged on that fact.

They didn’t comment, so no issues. He entered through the doors and into the parlor. The vinyl wall paneling radiated honey gold from the glow of the bulbs. Guards ringed the perimeter, one in each corner, still as statues. They nodded at the young thane, and he gave them a respectful nod back. His cousin, Nava, sat in a leather recliner reading. She waved at him, her sandy curls tumbling around her and framing her young heart-shaped face.

Near her was a large palmwood table that dominated the room. One adviser sat at it, his face scrunched in frustration. Next to him stood Zulen Gen, a thane of Memmelan and a close family friend. His cloud-white hair was tied into a long tale that trailed down his back. He frowned in argument with the adviser, though Adarro couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Noticing Adarro, he shook his head and dismissed the adviser. Zulen turned and waved him over. Adarro swallowed. The old thane smiled bright, his brown skin stretching with effort. He’d always liked Zulen. The man was a wise and respected leader and his father had always valued his counsel.

“Good evening, young master,” he said. He bowed and pressed three fingers to the side of his temple, a sign of greeting and admiration. Adarro returned it. “We missed you at dinner.”

The young thane gave him a grin. “Apologies, Zulen. I was meditating in the garden and lost track of time.” He gestured for Zulen to walk with him. They walked step by step.

Zulen shook his head. “You’re always doing that. You need to eat more.” He poked at Adarro’s slender frame. “Your future wife would probably like her husband to look a little more like a man and not a boy.” It sounded like an insult, but he knew it was in jest. So, he laughed it off.

“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine.” All good-natured, all part of the game. Adarro tried to deflect more. “Did you and father discuss anything important? Anything needing my attention?”

“Nothing for you, I’m afraid. More tariff talks mostly. Lord Natra was trying to talk about rising issues with the Drowned tax, but your father didn’t want to have any of it.”

Adarro frowned, brows pinching. “Why not? More and more Drowned seem to be showing up every day. We need to be able to keep them under control.”

Lord Gen gripped Adarro’s shoulder, stopping him. “Believe me, I agree wholeheartedly. They are a threat, and they must, at the least, be monitored.” Adarro nodded. The Drowned needed to be more than monitored, much more. He didn’t voice this opinion. There was a time and place for such discussions.

The thane continued. “But you know your father. He’s always had a soft spot for them.”

“I know,” he said, thinking back to his mother.

“At any rate, we’ll put a pin in this. We all can discuss this at tomorrow’s meeting. I must be away.”

Adarro inclined his head. “As you will. Goodnight, Your Grace.” They shook hands, then took their leave.

The young thane continued to his father’s study, his purpose renewed, and his nerves still thoroughly shot. He turned a corner, walked down another long hallway full of photos and paintings, and rounded the last corner. The door to the study stood tall and strong ahead of him, moonlight shining in through the hallway windows. His father’s personal guards flanked the entrance, slouched and bored.

He strode towards them, his strides long and determined. The guards straightened when they saw it was him. Regarding him with respect, their demeanors brightening. Both inclined their heads.

“Your Grace,” they each said in turn.

Adarro nodded. “Gentlemen. I assume my father is inside?”

“Yes sir.”

“Would you mind?” he asked, gesturing to the large wooden doors. They both grabbed a handle and pulled them open. As the doors cracked open, Adarro got a glimpse at his father, collapsed on the floor, blood pooled beneath him. He gulped. Time for the show.

“Father!” he cried out. Ignoring the guards, he rushed in. The guards followed. The young thane fell to his knees next to the body of the viscount. He cursed and yelled for help. The guards, understanding at last, sprang into action. From there, it was a blur, a flurry of motion and men.

Adarro watched it all, acting stunned, numbed to the events around him. Several soldiers and servants came and asked him questions, tried to comfort him. He went along with it, not fully there. They all nodded their understandings in turn, for why wouldn’t they? Who wouldn’t be devastated by such a turn of events?

Over the course of the night, Adarro watched as the confusion of the viscount’s death slowly bled into anger. It became obvious who had done this, the ice sword evident. A Drowned assassin did this. Exactly as he wanted them to think.

Tensions had been growing for years with regards to the Drowned and their incredible powers, powers that were so essential to the prosperity of Memmelan and to all the pods across the seas. However, they were also more dangerous than any weapon. They could control the seas and the tides, create storms, craft things out of thin air, and even manipulate the blood of others. They were a danger to everyone.

They were abominations. I am an abomination, thought the young thane. He could feel his monstrous energy flowing through him. He could see the threads of everyone around him, ready to be wound and shaped to his liking. He was sick of it, sick of this evil. Body and soul, Adarro was broken that night, by his own hand, but it had to be done.

The Drowned had to be stopped. This was the beginning.