The room was alive with the sounds of people enjoying their meals, but most of the discussions centered on the current state of the war. Not everything was about the conflict. Politics and war had become a bit stale among the wealthy patrons. The billing at the theater was drawing a lot of interest. The new line of Celenian fashions had come in the previous week. They were the talk of the party set. Mostly it was about the war.
The man entered the room. Beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead. The smell of fear was rank, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind.
Do you see them? They will be as I described.
Please don't make me do this.
We are beyond that now.
The man began to make his way across the room. Praying that someone would see him. Someone would stop him. He attempted to cry out, but a pounding force inside his head prevented any sound from coming out. No one did. The crowds parted a path, and he made his way through. The people did seem to sense something wrong, but it was only at a subconscious level. They moved slightly away from him, but they did not know why.
Ask of me anything. I will do it. Do not ask me to do this.
There are no other things I require of you.
They are good people. They do not deserve this.
You know what will happen if you fail.
The man gripped the golden chain tightly in his hand. The seven globes connected to the chain pulsed with a life of their own. The other hand was open. In the palm lay a small sphere about the size of a pea. It looked like it would burn anyone that touched it, but there was no heat. The man with no formal training in magic could still tell that the energy contained in the ball was immense. The power to destroy everything in its path.
You will keep your promise? She will be safe?
You are not in a position to question things. Do your duty, and she will be spared.
The man saw the group towards the back of the dining hall. They were near the stage, where the musicians entertained the crowd. Seven people arranged around the table. Two of them did not match the description he was given, but he was told this may be the case. The grizzled dwarf looked directly at the man. A small dragon perched on the shoulder of the nobleman craned his head over the crowd to watch the man approach. The rest of them continued on with their conversations.
They can see me. They will know what is happening.
It does not matter. The time is now.
The pounding in his brain was reaching a breaking point. As if spikes were being driven into his head. The man summoned all his will power. All his strength. It would not be enough. This was the end. The world would soon be inferno. With his final surge of power, he spoke the words . . .
"May the Saint forgive me."
