Saemon threw open the old armoire that housed nothing but the armor he had worn during the Horat-Vu war. He stared at the plates, which would stretch across his shoulders and swoop over his chest in a hard, defensive layer. They had saved him many times in the past.

Would they do so again?

A light sheen of dust covered the plates. His shield, featuring a snarling, ferocious winged lion, shone in the light cast by his torch. The metal glimmered a dull, gray sheen. He grasped it in his hand. Holding it felt reassuring, and quelled the uneasy feeling in his chest. It felt right to be with his armor again.

He put it on piece by piece, one part at a time with reverent, hallowed respect.

The final, most important piece, of his armor – his katana sword – rested along the top of a wooden rack. The blood of countless men had once run down it, although no stains were on the metal now.

Well-crafted katanas were unaffected by age, time, and dust. They never tarnished. Saemon respectfully clasped the sword with his free hand and brought it to his side. The weight of his armor, sword, and shield settled deep into his bones, whisking him back to a distant memory. One he hadn't recalled in many, many years.

A woman, barely twenty years of age, stood in the throne room in front of Saemon, who sat in his throne halfway across the tiled floor. Pearlescent hair spilled onto her shoulders, and a white linen tunic was draped around her thin, sprite-like body.

A strange glow surrounded her, as if light was radiating from her skin.

In her hand she held an oak staff. The twisted knot at the top supported a half-black, half-orange sphere – the sun and the moon.

"Blessed Saran of the Triad," Saemon murmured, inclining his head whilst forcing a calm, welcoming expression to his voice. "You are welcome to my palace anytime, of course. I am but a loyal servant to the Sacred Triad, as I always have been."

He didn't stand, and she didn't move any closer, but suddenly Saemon could feel strange energy emanating from her like a low, distant hum.

She blinked her cerulean blue eyes. Saemon shifted in the chair, clearing his throat.

"I am always pleased to see you, Sheng," she whispered, her voice rolling in the strange lilts of the Saran.

"Blessed Saran, please tell me what you saw in your dharma. I assume that is why you have come? You know my life is committed to serving the Empire and its people. Please help me to serve them best. What fate is in store for us?"

She furrowed her brows, and turned the edges of her lips down. Although no breeze moved through the room, strands of her hair suddenly fluttered in the air.

"Sheng Saemon," she murmured, "the Sacred Triad gives me many visions. You know this."

"I do."

"Just as you know that the visions are not complete. They are cryptic, their meanings hidden. I must discern what they are, and what they are not, in order to understand their place in your Empire and the Sacred Triad's power."

"Yes."

She tilted her head back and lowered her eyelids. "I see what could be, and what is. I know who people are, and what they will do. All things are before me, thanks to the Sacred Triad."

Saemon forced himself to nod. The light surrounding her seemed to grow with every measured word that slipped from her lips, as if she gained power from speaking to him.

"Yes, Blessed Saran of the Triad. I understand."

She relaxed, her shoulders rolling back.

"As you wish to know what I see, then please understand that these are my interpretations."

She closed her eyes, pulled in a deep breath, and then opened them again. "A veil of crimson cloaks the moon. The herald of the blackest night returns. Heed his mournful wail."

A strange intensity colored her voice.

Saemon lifted an eyebrow as an extended silence prevailed. Finally, he spoke. "Ominous words, Blessed Saran. But that cannot be all that you see, for your power is great. Please, continue."

"The young lion refuses his kingdom. The fires burn, heralding chaos. The era of disorder begins. Balance is shattered."

"Heralding chaos? Era of disorder?" Saemon repeated with a frown. "Blessed Saran, surely you must have perceived these things in the wrong way. There is no chaos in my Empire. What does the Triad really want me to know? "

The Blessed Saran paused, staring at him. Her wide eyes seemed to suck at him, as if trying to pull him into the depths and places of despair and sorrow of which she had spoken.

"Continue," he murmured, waving a hand. "Please."

"And then, my Sheng….”

She became silent. Saemon wondered whether she was weighing whether he was worthy of hearing the next words. He straightened in his chair, gripping the arms of his throne by his hands as he slid to the very end of the seat.

"What? Then what?" he urged.

Her nostrils flared. She pursed her lips.

"Speak, Saran!" he commanded.

"And then the moon will hide. Eternal night descends until the blood of the ninth beckons the old sun to the new kingdom."

"Blood of the ninth?" he whispered. "What does that mean?"

"My Sheng, the blood of the Sanra – the Savior – will bring a new era with his sacrifice."

Saemon sucked in a sharp breath.

The Blessed Saran intoned, "The ninth – "

Saemon shot to his feet, holding out an arm in protest, as if to block her from speaking.

"Don't you dare say it!" Saemon ordered.

"Isao, the ninth descendent of the Hiwan clan."

"Madness!" he cried. "The Triad overwhelms you with these visions. Saran, you are surely confused. "

"The truth does not change because of your inability to believe in it."

"I will not tolerate blasphemy!"

As soon as Saemon uttered these words, a hot sensation ripped through his body, tearing through him all the way from his heart to his toes. A haze of crimson arose in his mind, blocking his ability to think. To stop this, he pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes.

After, there was only the sound of the Sheng’s deep, panting gasps until the Saran's dulcet tones rang out again.

"Sheng, you know of me and what I do. I am the Saran, servant to Lord Suryan, Lady Canandra, and their Messenger, Braham. I perceive. I translate. I give you the interpretation of the visions they give me. This is what I see."

"Be SILENT!" the Sheng commanded.

Her expression didn't waver as Saemon rebuked her.

To even think about Isao dying . . . it couldn't be so, Saemon thought. Isao had life. Vivacity. He would ascend the throne and continue the proud legacy of their family!

Saemon knew this reality all the way to his bones. He had planned for it always; he deemed it so!

He drew his shoulders back, expanding his chest as he took a deep breath.

"Sheng – "

"Another word from you and I . . ." He paused, swallowed, and forced a wave of agitation to pass out of him. "Saran, I have shed too much blood on behalf of the Triad. Did I not fight for them in the Horat-Vu war? How can they ask this of me? My son. My only son. No. I will not sacrifice him to their whims. My blood was what was needed to usher in a new era." Here he thumped on his chest with a fist. "My blood. The last Saran told me so. She predicted this."

"I cannot speak for the previous Saran. I can only tell you what I see."

"I will not allow Isao’s blood to be spilled," Saemon yelled. "Not now. Not ever!"

The Blessed Saran reached out a hand, but didn't move any closer. In a gentle voice she soothed, "Isao has all of our hearts, Sheng. You are not alone in your love for him. I wish I hadn't seen what I revealed to you, but I cannot deny what they have given me. I – "

"Silence!" he roared. "You test my patience, Saran. All of you…you are fickle beings that don't know anything. Get out of my sight. Now!"

Her lips formed a frown. She paused, then bowed at the waist. "As you wish, my Sheng."

She left the room on bare feet that barely brushed the floor. Then Saemon fell to his knees and gave a deep, guttural growl.

This the Triad could not ask. Their selfish whims had taken enough from him already.

He would not give his son.

Saemon tossed aside the memory and inhaled sharply.

This appearance by the Blessed Saran haunted him even now, years later. No matter how desperately he had tried to forget everything about that day, he never could.

She had revealed what could be. Of all the things she had to predict, why did that have to be one of them?

Why did the Triad have to take everything?

It was not enough that Saemon had to take many lives in their name during the Horat-Vu war. That the Triad had taken his beloved wife, leaving him to raise his son and the Empire all by himself.

No, now the Triad was taking his people too.

The Triad was always thirsty for more.

The verses played through his mind again and again…

A veil of crimson cloaks the moon. The herald of the blackest night returns. Heed his mournful wail.

The young lion refuses his kingdom. The fires burn, heralding chaos. The era of disorder begins. Balance has shattered.

And then the moon will hide. Eternal night descends until the blood of the ninth beckons the old sun to the new kingdom.

He shivered and reflected on Khalem’s absence as he hoisted the katana in his hands.

If the prophecy must come to pass this night, Saemon thought, at least Isao would be safe. Khalem would give his life to ensure that outcome.

"Isao," he murmured aloud, just to have his own voice break the quiet of his bedroom. "Isao is safe. Khalem will protect him. Nothing else matters. And now it is time for me to do my part."

* * *

Four guards were present in the hallway when Sheng Saemon stepped out clad in full armor. Only twenty minutes had passed since he'd spotted the Gube, yet already he could hear clashes so loud that it was apparent a fierce battle had begun.

A tall man with a broad chest stood in the midst of three other guards. It was Captain Jurobei, leader of the Karu unit. His sharp gaze narrowed, taking in Saemon's appearance in with one quick gaze.

"Sheng," he said, bowing. "It is my honor to serve you tonight. You have summoned us?"

Saemon nodded once. "Captain Jurobei. Thank you for coming. Is the back hall being guarded?"

"Yes, Sheng."

"And the front doors?"

"Yes."

"Put three more guards by the doors leading out from the kitchens, and make sure men are some stationed near the cellars too. Our enemies are already upon us, but surely they have not fanned out just yet. We must stop them before they overtake everything."

"The intruders, Sheng?"

"Yes. I don't know who they are for certain, but I do have an idea."

"Yes, Sheng."

A clashing of metal sounded at the end of the corridor. Sheng and his guards all turned at the same time to spy a soldier attempting to make his way down the corridor.

Blood poured down his face from a gash over his eye. There was a trickle of blood on one of his legs from the knee on down, and a large amount of blood spread across his chest. The man fell to his knees with a cry, then tried to use his elbows to slowly pull himself down the hall.

“Help him,” Saemon commanded. “Bring him to me.”

Two of the guards rushed down the hall, then gingerly lifted up the wounded soldier and carried him to Saemon’s side. They placed him down on the floor carefully, propping his back up against the wall.

“Sh-sheng,” the soldier murmured. “They are here.”

Saemon crouched down next to him. “You have done well, soldier, in fighting and coming to me. Where are they?”

“Every . . . everywhere.”

“Outside?”

“No. Inside.”

Saemon swallowed back an uneasy rise of acid in his throat.

“The old . . . the old armory,” the soldier gasped.

Sheng recoiled in horror. The old armory boasted several entrances to the twisting maze of hidden passages that darted through the castle. This news was dreadful!

The soldier coughed and began to gag. Saemon reached out to put a consoling hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Thank you, soldier.”

The young man took a shuddering breath just before his head fell to the side and his body slid down the wall. As it was clear to all present that he had passed, Captain Jurobei reached out to carefully close the man’s eyes. He then looked to the Sheng.

“Your orders, Sheng?”

Sheng’s mind was spinning. These intruders had already broached the interior of the palace! How were they even aware that the armory offered entrances into the palace? Worse, how could he and his men fight enemies who were both without and within?

He felt faint, but he forced himself to be strong.

“We fight,” he whispered fiercely. “Carry out my commands as before, and prepare yourself and your men.”

Captain Jurobei barked a crisp order to one of the guards, who spun on his heels and left to see the Sheng’s commands fulfilled. The other two remained at attention behind Jurobei, remaining to protect Saemon.

Saemon drew in a deep breath, appreciating his opportunity to be in command. Standing idly by, just waiting for destiny to take its course, was an interminable punishment. But being able to act and create some order out of chaos created a modicum of safety. Even if his people were surrounded on all sides by enemies, at least he could fight them.

And fight he would.

"Is the Karu unit ready?"

"Of course, Sheng. They are preparing as we speak, and may even be ready already."

Saemon nodded once, pleased to hear this good news. Now there was a chance. A chance that he could defeat the prophecy, prove the Sacred Triad wrong, and banish these enemies from his life.

For a moment, though, the darkness in the hall seemed to press in on him and affect his thoughts.

Double guards. Karu unit. Khalem with Isao. Had this all happened just tonight? It seemed to have happened too quickly to be real.

Saemon shoved the thoughts aside.

"Sheng," Captain Jurobei said, stepping forward. "I trust you with my life, and the lives of my soldiers. We are ready to give our lives for you and the Empire. But may I just ask . . . "

Saemon met his gaze. "What is it, Captain Jurobei?"

"How…how did this happen?"

Saemon shook his head. "I don't know."

His brow furrowed as he thought about dinner and the strange way the Ameya and Nari clans had behaved at the banquet. The deep heaviness in his chest told him that the Saran’s prophecy was coming to pass – and also had something to do with the clans’ strange behaviors.

One could never trust anyone, apparently.

"I will be in my room," Saemon said. "I have a few strategies to consider for how to best attack now that the invasion has begun. Notify me once when the Karus have arrived, for we will not waste a moment. We will fight and save those who are already endangering their lives as they defend us."

Captain Jurobei nodded.

Saemon spun on his heel, retreating back into the safety of his room. He pulled out a map of the castle, and upon reviewing it, began mumbling under his breath about strategies for breeching the walls and where the weakest spots stood. Fifteen minutes passed before a rapping came on the door, pulling him from the battle plans.

Saemon opened it to find the corridor full of the elite soldiers.

A snarling lion decorated each man’s chest armor, including the intricate curls and delicate swoops of the lion’s mane. This armor was the battle armor of the Karu unit. The helmets had elaborate paintings over their tops, paintings which featured portrayals of previous Karu soldiers who had died with honor.

Saemon glanced at the soldiers’ faces; each featured a determined expression. Pride welled up in his chest as he ran his eyes over the ranks and noted the special boshu swords that hung at the soldiers’ sides.

No other men could handle such these long, curved blades. The Karus had been specially trained to be able to do so. Therefore, they were extremely deadly in battle.

"Karu unit," the Sheng declared loudly, "you are the pride of the Hiwan clan, and most welcome here tonight. I hope you are prepared to fight for your life, for mine, and for our beloved Empire. We will need every ounce of your strength. I too am ready to fight, and possibly die, alongside you."

With that, Saemon turned on his heels, strode down the hall, and headed for the main staircase.

* * *

The invasion had started in the courtyard, and quickly turned into a slaughter.

The moment the Hiwan army began to fight, many dropped to their knees, overtaken by weakness. Some staggered, dizzy on their feet. Invaders jumped from the parapets, landing on the Hiwan soldiers and toppling them to the ground.

They died in droves.

Awakened by all the commotion, the palace guests arose. “Ameya!” several cried. “The Ameya are attacking!”

The guests barricaded themselves inside. Ameya soldiers climbed trellises, broke windows, and moved the battle into the city streets, sparing none. Saemon observed through glances out the windows as he charged through his palace, making his way down to the fighting from his upstairs room. Seeing the emerald armor of the Ameya clan brought him no surprise – only pain. The Karu unit filled the space behind him, the heavy clomp of their boots creating an ominous sound.

Upon reaching the third floor of the palace, Saemon threw open a pair of double doors leading to the ballroom – and stopped in his tracks.

Inside it, members of both the Ameya and Nari clans were ruthlessly attacking his soldiers.

Saemon paused for only a moment, taking in the struggle of war. Nari, he thought with a jolt. Of course.

His suspicions had been correct. Neither Clan had drunk any of the wine. Most of them had left the bridal feast as soon as possible.

They were, together, the betrayers.

Bringers of doom and death.

With a snarl, the Sheng wielded his katana and gave a growl. "For the Empire!" he called.

Together, he and the Karu unit joined the fight.

The Karu unit fell into a basic formation: Saemon at the front, the rest of them forming a protective circle behind him. They pushed into the battlefield, ready to fell those who dared to strike at them.

In a moment, something pulled at Saemon’s heart. A minute later, his muscles flagged. Next to him, a Karu began to pant and wipe at his forehead.

Something felt wrong. Something was wrong.

The Karus were sluggish, stumbling as they moved ever so slowly into battle. Saemon blinked in disbelief as the Karu next to him stumbled to one knee. As he did, an Ameya took advantage and struck him on the back of his neck, killing him.

Dead. The Karu was dead.

Saemon struggled to lift his katana, but it felt like there was a heavy cloak weighting down his shoulders and arms. It was…. as if the air was full of rocks that were pressing down on him. Pressing, pressing.

Saemon tilted his head back.

The air…The air!

His mind flashed back to the celebration earlier.

Kenzo standing with a glass of Dhul powder in hand. The way the jars had filled the air with a sickly perfume and smoke. They had filled the air with a lethal something that was causing all of them who had been there to struggle now.

None of the invaders had been at the feast…and all of them were at full strength.

The Ameya and Nari clans had deliberately sabotaged the Hiwan clan. It was a clever and sneaky ploy to weaken the strong Hiwan clan.

It was a trick worthy of betrayers who lacked honor.

Saemon pressed into the fighting despite experiencing a sudden dizzy spell. There was nothing else to do.

As he fought, familiar memories flashed through his mind. When he met the gaze of a soldier he was about to kill or heard someone's death cry, he remembered the Horat-Vu war, and how naturally destruction came to those who had trained for it.

His muscles remembered the way to swing his sword. How hard to press on another’s skin to draw blood. Where to aim his sword when a man was charging at him.

Saemon fought like a true Hiwan warrior.

"The doors," he called at one point, pointing across the room. "We must get into the throne room."

Saemon adjusted to the left, keeping his gaze trained on the double doors leading into the throne room that some Nari—and a few Ameya—stood guarding. At least ten men were there, ensuring no one would go inside, and leaving little doubt as to what, or whom, they were protecting.

Only a foolish leader hid behind his men.

Saemon and the elite Karu unit waded through a mass of bodies, slashing and destroying those whom they passed.

"Clear the way!" Saemon roared as he neared the doors.

The Karus fell into fight with the ten guards. Saemon sliced into the throat of a Nari soldier, and when another Nari attempted to hack at his shoulder, the Emperor blocked him with his shield. On his right, a Karu soldier fell, eyes glazed in death. Within minutes, Saemon pushed through a pile of dead bodies and threw open the doors to the throne room.

A pair of sapphire eyes immediately met his.

Azuma Nari stood in the middle of the room, flanked by at least fifty guards. He held a Qiang.

Saemon felt a moment of apprehension upon spying the spear-like weapon.

Ameya soldiers slammed the door shut behind them Karu, deepening the shadows in the room where only a few torches flickered along the wall.

There was no escape now.

No escape from the Ameyan and Nari traitors who were doling out death to the Hiwan clan members.

Saemon's chest bucked and heaved as he fought for adequate air. Another shiver of weakness slipped through his body. What was happening to him? He was stronger than this.

Next to him, a Karu soldier wavered on his feet.

"Azuma," the Emperor snapped. "How appropriate that you hold that particular Qiang! I cannot be wrong in surmising that was your uncle Wu's weapon. It has been passed down from traitor…to traitor."

Azuma scoffed, "You are talking about betrayal? A fake Emperor who is unable to manage his kingdom, and who doesn't care for his people? You betrayed my uncle. You betrayed the whole Empire, and now you will pay!"

"You have a lot of courage accusing me of treason within my own walls. How dare you suggest such a thing."

"You are in no position to give orders," Azuma taunted. "Let us be done with this. As you know, I am a man of action, not words. It's time to fight. For me to prove to you, and the whole Empire, that you are not the rightful ruler. This room that houses your throne will house you now, and become your tomb."

Saemon bared his teeth. His left knee spasmed, yet he forced himself to remain standing. "I have already spilled the blood of that Qiang's former owner. The same fate awaits you, your servants, and your allies. My Karu, let us show no mercy to these betrayers. Attack!"

With shouts of bravery, the Karus advanced. The Nari soldiers fanned out behind Azuma, protecting his flank, while the Karu unit did the same for Saemon.

Despite their weakened legs and bodies, the Karu soldiers heavily engaged the Naris. Saemon kept his eye on Azuma as he circled slowly around the bodies of those who had fallen.

Azuma smiled as he hefted the Qiang in one hand.

"You think you can win, old man?" he mocked.

"I will indeed," the Sheng promised.

At that moment, the double doors leading into the ballroom flew open, and at least fifty Nari soldiers spilled into the room.

Saemon drew in a sharp breath. He and his men were surrounded on all sides – and there were only forty of his loyal soldiers to their one hundred. He turned back to Azuma, who grinned at him in a lopsided way.

"We fight," Saemon said. "And you will die first."

Saemon lifted his sword. Azuma advanced with a guttural yell.

The clash of their weapons joined the rest of the war chorus.

Swords still crossed, Azuma used his strength to push Saemon back. Unable to summon up his usual reserves of strength to overcome Azuma, Saemon deliberately bent at the waist and whipped his sword away. Caught by surprise, Azuma proceeded forward, toppling over the Sheng’s back and onto the ground. Just as Saemon swung his katana, the younger man sprang up onto his feet, avoiding the bloody blade by a mere hair.

Saemon struggled to straighten up as Azuma laughed maniacally and mocked, "Your body is not strong, old man. You will not win here today."

Azuma slashed at the Sheng with his sword, but Saemon blocked the blade with his. Azuma whipped it back and darted it forward again, but Saemon spun and parried the blow yet again.

They whirled about, attempting to fell each other their swords until Saemon tripped over the body of a fallen Hiwan. Saemon fell to the ground, barely managing to throw his shield up in time to block the descent of Azuma's Qiang. The Sheng rolled away quickly, but Azuma advanced, plunging his weapon into the ground a hairsbreadth behind Saemon.

Every moment his shield felt heavier and heavier.

Every breath he took cost Saemon energy he didn't have.

Saemon ducked behind a fallen Ameya soldier to evade another attack by Azuma. As he did, his shoulder hit something hard, something that stopped him in his tracks.

The wall to the room.

Azuma strode over and raised his sword. "Here is where you die, Emperor."

Saemon threw up his shield just as Captain Jurobei threw his body into Azuma's, knocking him to the ground. He drew out a short blade and swung at Azuma’s face. An angry cut opened in Azuma’s forehead as Saemon staggered to his feet.

Moisture poured down his face as he stood. Another wave of weakness washed through him.

He wanted to lie down on the floor of the room, close his eyes and go to sleep.

But if he did, it would be the sleep of death.

Azuma parried the Captain’s blade easily, then plunged his Qiang into Jurobei’s chest.

Saemon's nostrils flared when he saw his captain die, but that was all the energy he could spare to mourn the loyal soldier. He'd have to save all his reserves for killing Azuma.

Once Azuma jerked the Qiang out of the Captain’s chest, bloodlust ran through his eyes. Behind the two leaders, the Karus fought, attempting to form a protective circle around their Emperor .

Saemon shook his head, his vision blurred.

"Ah, the old man can't see very well, can he?" Azuma murmured, flicking a body away with his foot as he prepared to pounce. "How sad," he sneered. “The Dhul powder is a powerful thing, isn’t it?

Saemon shuffled back, listening to his instincts that demanded he keep moving away from his enemy. Azuma followed, carefully moving one foot, then the next.

"What you have in youth, you don't have in wisdom, Azuma. Folly will kill a man," Saemon said through gritted teeth. He sucked in long breaths of air, but it wasn't enough.

He couldn't breathe.

Azuma shrugged. "So says you, who is about to die."

A bloodcurdling cry came from Saemon's left as a Nari charged straight through the circle of Karus right towards him.

"No!" Azuma screamed.

Saemon ducked behind his shield at the last moment. The soldier collided into it with a thud, but his weapon speared Saemon in the thigh. Saemon didn't feel the pain at first as he pushed the tip of his shield into the soldier's belly and ripped his leg away from the sharp blade.

"You fool!" Azuma yelled, lifting his sword and driving it into the soldier’s neck. "He is mine to kill. Mine!"

Saemon moved further away, blood pouring from his leg. He took a deep breath. He'd felt pain – and worse – before.

"Stand, Emperor!" Azuma shrieked. "Stand before me and face me in your final fight. Or do you concede?"

Saemon planted his hands on the slippery tile floor and pushed himself up. He fought off dizziness as he straightened in place.

New resolve flowed through him as he focused on engaging each of his muscles. He would fight. And he might die.

But he would fight.

He lifted his katana, pink with his own blood now, from his side when he was fully erect.

"You," he said to Azuma, "are mine to kill."

Clutching his katana in both hands, Saemon lifted it above his head and advanced on Azuma with a warrior’s battle cry. Azuma fended off his first attack, and Saemon summoned up the strength to continue striking without pause.

Azuma parried, ducked, and stumbled away. Then defended himself again. And again.

Saemon fought on, and lived, for only one thing. Azuma. No one existed but Azuma. And taking his life.

Saemon swung the katana up, but Azuma countered and spun, slamming into Saemon's chest with his shoulder. Then there was a sharp pain, a piercing pain that penetrated deep between Saemon's rib, and he gasped. Azuma sneered as he pulled his knife back out of Saemon's chest.

Saemon dropped to his knees as Azuma spread out his arm.

"Look at your throne room, Emperor. Every one of your precious Karu is going to die if they haven't already. All your soldiers. All your people."

Only ten Karus still stood. The rest were lifeless on the ground.

Unexpectedly, two Nari soldiers attacked an Ameya, driving swords into and through his neck from either side.

The rest of the Naris began to strike everyone in sight who wasn’t one of their own as the Ameyas shrieked with rage.

“Betrayed!” one screeched. “You’ve betrayed us!”

In moments only a few Ameyas remained standing in the throne room, their backs to each other as they faced at least twenty advancing Nari soldiers.

The betrayers had become the betrayed.

The thought tumbled through Saemon’s mind like a leaf in a windstorm.

Not even the Ameya clan would be left standing. Only the bloodthirsty Naris – willing to defile and betray anyone they wished – would pull through. Chaos ruled supreme now.

The world spun before his eyes. A river of hot liquid ran down his arm.

Saemon tried to take in another breath, but couldn’t.

Azuma crouched down next to him with a triumphant sneer. "The mighty Emperor has fallen."

Saemon tried to look beyond Azuma, but he was barely able to see his throne through the fog in his eyes. With a bloody hand, he reached forward, then began crawling.

Azuma stood, furrowing his brow in puzzlement, but he did not interfere or strike Saemon again.

On and on Saemon crawled….

Over a fallen Nari.

Past a shield.

Beside and below the few Karus still standing.

Darkness blurred at the edge of his vision when he reached the first step to the throne. Using the last of his strength, Saemon pulled himself to the second. Then the third.

He collapsed at the very top, and rolled onto his back. Blood leaked beneath his weak body as he stared at the ceiling.

"Sacred Triad," he murmured with the last of his breath. "you have taken my blood, my life, and all my days. In this last moment, I give you my soul. But spare Isao . . . save his life . . .."

Darkness overtook him; he could no longer see.

He could still discern the faint sounds of battle in the back of his mind.

"Kill them all," Azuma yelled from far away, as if through water. "The Empire is ours!"

The blackness beckoned yet again, and Saemon entered a place where there was no pain and no fear.