His breath was visible in the shadowed half-light of a candle. On the floor lay the emaciated figure of a young woman. Moving closer to the body he dropped to one knee. His joints had surrendered their youth many years ago. He made an involuntary groan as he settled in close to the body.

With the candle held high, he brushed the hair from her face. Someone had to fall to set things in motion. He consoled himself, but he never relished the idea of taking life. ‘Pass swiftly, you have earned your rest.’ The words were recited out of habit and seemed inappropriate on one so young.

Olio stood and walked toward his desk. He considered the repercussions for his actions. The Regent would not be pleased if he learned of the deception he had perpetrated. The items in this ancient room represented the highest achievements of mankind; no usurper of authority would be allowed to destroy treasures of this magnitude to satisfy his mistrust of magic. ‘Not on my watch.’ Olio’s words poured out like dragon’s breath in the cold recesses of the mountain cave.

The man-made cave was in perfect condition, save the dust. The mountain vault had been protected with an incantation that preyed on the minds of those who entered without authorization. The young woman on the floor had believed the illusion, and for her trust in her senses she was robbed of her life.

She at least deserved a proper burial for her sacrifice. He would see to that soon enough. Settling into the well-worn chair, he relaxed and dropped deeper into thought.

Things were starting to come unraveled in the court of the Regent. His delicate grip on power was slipping in the face of his many opponents. By now the Regent would be planning some means of ensuring his power. This was the side of the Regent that scared Olio.

SanTera, like so many that come to a position of power, become dangerous when the threat of losing power seems eminent. SanTera had lost favor with too many of the nobles to expect anything but subterfuge and deception in his court. Without a significant shift in his power base the Regent would not live to see winter’s thaw.

SanTera was not adept at leading, nor was he qualified to wage war. The only thing he ever showed any aptitude for was obtaining power and dodging blame. It seemed that soon those qualities too would abandon him. ‘He must have a plan.’ Olio mused aloud. SanTera wouldn’t look far; no doubt he would look to the past for inspiration.

Then it came to him - the King. The King had lowered the lance of aggression against the elves to unite his people. The elves too had needed an arrangement and it hadn’t required much diplomacy to agree to war. The Elven liaison to the King had called it Silou Neeth, which loosely translated to house cleaning.

SanTera was not privy to the workings behind the scenes that moved the war machine on both sides. He might be foolish enough to think he could achieve a similar outcome without benefit of political intrigue.

This could be ruinous. The Kingdom would be cast into war, but this time it would not be fought on the borderlands and in the jungles. This war would come home to the doorstep of every man, woman, and child in the realm.

The King must be put in play now before it is too late. Even in his condition he might still be of some use. Yes, the King. Olio thought as he used his thumbnail to dislodge a clump of wax that had dripped onto the desktop.

Olio pushed back his chair and walked toward the body on the floor. Lifting her body required more strength than he was accustomed to exerting. His muscles strained even under the weight of her petite frame.

With measured steps he moved to the emblem on the floor. With a word, the dark room melted away.

Rivers of light circled the horizon. Buzzing sounds poured in from every angle. At first sounding like insects, then more like distant voices. Traveling in the runic circles was always disorienting. It was as if all the distance between the two points of travels was streaking by like a river around a boulder, except in this case the boulder is moving not the river. Slowly the sound faded and the swirling lights took form. The charred ruins of a tribal settlement lay all around.

Here the rogue would be laid to rest among those she had inadvertently slain with her reckless intrusion into the cave and subsequent release of Karuk’s Rage. Olio strode toward a charred pile of human remains, carrying the body of an unknown rogue.