The Sanctuary had never been Ferda’s place, would never be their place, but it was Raphi’s place. How dare these bitches defile it.

A choked-off scream from behind let Ferda know that Veradis had delt with the arsonist, so they peered around for any more enemies. By the grunts of effort coming from the alter hall, Ferda guessed that Raphi was fending off his own batch of attackers. He could handle himself for a few more moments.

Ferda ran to a window, moving fast enough to start feeling the heat of the speed modification in their thighs. Outside, masked figures dressed in the yellow and red of the Shenaise standard cheered and hollered. Sickness rose in Ferda’s stomach. Usually, the Defenders of Truth only gathered in small enough groups to get pissed in the same pub before committing whatever hateful act struck their fancy that evening. They weren’t typically even prepared enough to wear matching masks, much less a uniform. Tonight’s attack had been planned, and probably not by the usual band of knuckle-dragging bigots.

Snarling, Ferda sprinted back to their victim and ripped off the corpse’s mask. Her face was unfamiliar, but the wooden pendant around her neck, carved with the Kasani scorpiocat, was. Ferda yanked it free and held it up for Veradis to see. Why a powerful noble clan would deign to work with street mobs, the thief didn’t particularly care, but Ferda would make sure the Kasanis would regret their decision. They stuffed the blood-flecked mask into a pocket Serai. Maybe this would finally get the message that breadlines weren’t enough through to her.

A tempest raged in Veradis’ eyes as she took in the Kasani’s symbol. “I will burn that family from the surface of this world. If you do anything to stand in my way—”

“Hell no,” Ferda scoffed. “Fuck the Kasanis. In fact,” they bared their teeth as they thought of Malek, “I might just get a chance to help you out with that real soon.” Veradis didn’t smile, but Ferda detected a hint of cold satisfaction in the tilt of xyr lips.

The door to the alter chamber burst open and Raphi trudged through, bloody whip coiled in his hand. “I stopped the bastards from harming the alters and barred the door to keep any more from getting in. But, this building is going up so damn quick.” He wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving a smear of gore in its wake. “There are too many enemies blocking the entrance for me to both carry the alters out and defend myself.”

“You won’t have to.” Ferda rolled their shoulders. “I’ll watch your back on the way out.” If Ferda had their way, they and Raphi would forget the damn alters and already be out of there. Objects could be remade. People could not. But, with all the Sanctuary had done for Raphi, he probably wouldn’t leave without the main articles of its worship. Less time arguing meant more time escaping. “And, Veradis can—"

“Both of you make sure to cover your faces.” Veradis interrupted as she took her earrings out. “The group’s new backers might have positioned some Guards outside to arrest any escapees. If you try to defend yourselves, they’ll definitely take you in.” Underneath the robes and masks of the hoard outside were Shenaise citizens, which the Shenaise authorities would care about far more than the fact that said citizens were trying to burn people alive. After all, the victims were Woromirans. If anyone fought back and killed one of the mob, then that death would be considered a tragedy. In the best light, the nation of Shenait would see the burning of the sanctuary as a faraway tragedy accompanied by a faceless statistic of regrettable deaths. With the way the war was going, most Shenaise would rather look at this situation through the worst lens possible.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Ferda squinted at the Cleric. “I’m good, but I can’t fight an entire mob. Not while protecting Raphi, at least.” As quick as Ferda was, their augmentations were meant for climbing, stealth, and infiltration—not combat. Veradis’ blades, on the other hand, were made for conducting massacres.

“There are some documents in my quarters that absolutely cannot be lost to this fire,” Veradis said as xe tore a long strip from xyr robe and handed it to Raphi to hide his face with.  “Once I’ve gathered all I needed, I will come to assist you against our attackers. Until then, you’ll have to do your best.” Ferda had always known that Veradis was better at fulfilling the warlike expectations foisted upon the sacred Xalthian gender shifters than xe was at the expectations of care and empathy, but shattered fucking hell, sacrificing people for documents was a new level of bullshit.

Veradis went to rip another strip of cloth, but Ferda waved xem off. Like hell were they going to let the cleric hold something so simple over their head. Instead, they pulled a black balaclava from the depths of their many hidden pocket and pulled it over their head. The mask’s fabric rippled. An upside-down, fang-filled maw now stretched across Ferda’s cheeks while a large pair of false eyes embroidered themselves across the thief’s chin. Yorannian face masks, used by elite assassins, were enchanted to confuse the neurological pathways of human facial recognition. Ferda had lifted one of the masks up during an unplanned side trip to the country, and it was now their favorite piece of kit. It was now damn near impossible for Ferda to be recognized with it on, which was how they’d known that someone had ratted them out. “Gather your shit quickly, then.” Ferda growled.

Veradis blinked, then drew xemself up, the firelight highlighting the hard planes of xyr face. “I’ll return as soon as I can. You both have my thanks for taking care of our sacred artifacts in my stead.” Veradis reached out to squeeze both their shoulders. “Be safe.” As xyr grip closed around Ferda’s shoulder, they twitched, but didn’t shake xem off. They’d figure out how to get on top of Veradis’ fuckery once everyone got out alive.