Few saw the real struggle that went on here, though there are some faint, tell-tale signs. Of the ten cepn assassins dispatched to murder the king's family, three rebelled in the final hour when presented with the task of murdering helpless children. A battle broke out among the assassins themselves as the temple burned around them, and though the traitors failed to stop the killing, one of them lived long enough after the others had fled to carve a tiny message into the soft gold backing of her guild medallion. It reads:
If this medallion were ever to find its way back to the cepn colony of Noctae, it would raise questions serious enough to shake their very society to its core. The writing is sealed with a secret sigil; absolute proof of its author and its authenticity. For six hundred years, this medallion lay among the bones of its owner, until recently, when it was discovered by a young lutrai wanderer named Flight (see Starfall). It's now his official, one-of-a-kind lucky medallion, which, according to the village prophet, will one day save his life. For this reason, he will not part with it, believing that the day could come at any time, and that he will surely die if caught without it.
One other presence lies among the overgrown ruins - the holy sword known as Starsong. It was the blade intended for the king's son, a weapon forged in the light and fire of the positive energy planes. The cepn tried to destroy it but were unsuccessful, the sword now lying under a blanket of dust somewhere in the main chapel. The blade itself has a dim, animal-like intelligence, and will call out to any who might have the strength of will and the conviction necessary to avenge the boy for whom it was made. Starsong is as fit to be wielded now as it ever was, though its true potential can only be unlocked by the heart of a Solinar. Like all true Solinar blades, its gleaming surface always catches the light of the sun, even at night, and thus protects its wielder from the dark magic of the Eater. It is the bane of all beings that fear the light of the sun, and will strike down most undead beings in a single searing blow.
Starfire is one of the five true Solinar blades that still exist on Rym, and certainly the most obscure. This is largely due to the fact that is has never actually seen battle. The sword also has a major weakness, or safeguard, in any case. Should it ever draw the blood of an innocent, it will shatter into a thousand ringing pieces, beyond all hope of repair.
As the young knight stepped through the doorway, a soft creaking sound drew his attention upwards, and before he could raise his blade, the cepn assassin hanging upsidedown from the rafters dropped down upon him, hissing. Twisting around in midair, she slammed down onto his shoulders, closed her knees around his head, and jerked savagely to one side, flinging him off balance. Nimril shrieked and leapt backwards as the lutrai landed on his rear and the cepn tumbled away, flipping to her feet with an almost liquid agility. She seemed surprised, taking a step back from the knight as he struggled to get up.
"That would have broken a man's neck," she whispered, her expression mute.
Lairu rose cautiously, wincing and rolling his head to one side. It hurt to move his head, but just as she suspected, he was also fairly certain it wasn't broken, "I'm not a man."
"Your king is dead," she hissed, baring her teeth in a jagged grin. "You should be at his side."
Before he could think of anything good to come back with, the assassin lunged, gleaming blades springing from the edges of her wings. Lairu flinched back and got his shield in the way of one silver scythe, heard a frustrated snarl, and when he swung his shield aside to bring his sword to bear, she had already dropped into the lowest quadrant of his vision and kicked his legs out from under him. He landed on his back again, his head cracking against the stone floor and eliciting an involuntary yelp of pain from the young knight. As his vision cleared of starbusts, he heard the scrape of metal against leather, and he twisted away, the cepn's elegant gothic dagger shattering upon the stone floor still warm from the heat of his neck.
"You little shit," she murmured, drawing another dagger. The assassin was forced back, however, as Nimril came out of the door and swung at her with the lantern, screaming, "Get away from him!"
Wincing at the bright light, shielding her eyes with the back of one wing, the cepn hid her dagger hand and her equally venomous scowl, "I really am trying to make this painless. Would you rather the Spiral get you?"
Rising once again, Lairu put himself between the Nimril and the assassin, "Painless?! You keeping hitting me in the head!" He rushed, shield-first, and she sidestepped easily, striking him across the temple with the pommel of her knife and sending him reeling to the floor again. He whimpered, clearly still alive.
"That would have crushed a man's temple," she muttered, twirling her dagger into a downward stabbing grip. The lutrai's whimper became a growl, and before she could abort her coup de gras, he swung his arm back and smashed the metal edge of his shield against the cepn's shins. An almost soundless scream fled her muzzle and she staggered back, falling to one knee and bringing her wingblades up in a defensive posture. Her expression was mute but pain was brimming behind her eyes, and even as the young knight crawled back to his feet and felt the blood running from his temple, she did not rise. She simply watched him, her teeth bared, "You deserve whatever they do to you."
Lairu swallowed, and closed his bloody fingers around his shield strap again, "Haven't got any fight left?"
The cepn hissed, and tried to rise to a full standing posture, but her legs quickly wobbled out from under and she fell to her knees again. Another curse escaped through her clenched teeth.
"You have hollow bones," the lutrai breathed, his eyes widening slightly. "Just like a bird..."
With a furious scream, the cepn's mask of calm composure was finally shattered, and she made a crippled lunge at the young knight, stabbing up at his belly with a poison-slick blade. Lairu jerked backwards and tripped over his own heavy tail, and she was on top of him in an instant, one taloned hand snagging into his tunic and the other rising over his breastbone with the dagger, "You will too."
The lutrai dropped his sword and snatched at the assassin's wrist as the dagger came down, driving the point of the blade back up several trembling inches. The cepn bunched her shoulder into the attack and began to wear him down, the jagged grin resurfacing from beneath her dark lips. A single drop of milky venom beaded at the tip of the deadlocked blade and dripped onto the knight's tunic, smelling faintly of lemon. Her grin broadened as the needle-like tip of the dagger began to sink again, and she cooed softly to him, "It's okay...it doesn't even hurt going in. Stop fighting me."
Lairu closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain as his shoulder began to cramp. She was amazingly strong for her size, and he felt himself weakening, the shuddering dagger point scraping over his tunic now, another bead of venom sweating out of the black steel. He couldn't believe he was going to die, here, in utter failure. He looked up into her dark eyes again, into that nebulous black disconnection, and a whispered prayer came to his lips. It was all he had left, and the cepn's grin faded slightly as a pale blue triangle of light flared beneath his tunic, shining clearly through the coarse weave. The light reflected in her black eyes as they grew wider and a wash of numbing heat spread through the wrist the paladin had gripped, and suddenly the fierce downward pressure was reversed, the assassin trying to wrench her arm away as the lutrai invoked his magic, "No!"
A terrible howl echoed through the stone halls, colage of sound that bore no semblance to the baying of any mortal thing, and the two combatants froze momentarily, locked in a state of mutual fear. A silken chuckle trickled down from the rafters, in the wake of silence left by the unearthly howl, and Lairu's gaze shifted upwards.
"You've brought the husks," Devynn tittered, sprawled out lazily over the rafter directly over his head. Sparkling grey eyes shone down from the gloom, the sorceror otherwise dressed in black and brown leathers that blended too perfectly with his shadowy perch. The lutrai let go of the cepn's wrist, and she tumbled backwards, almost impaling herself on her own knife. Dropping down off the wooden beam, Devynn landed softly in a crouch by the knight's side, "They're going to come and make you one of theirs. I hear they take off all your skin and sew your eyes shut."
Lairu tried to rise, and the elf shoved him back down, moving his face very close and whispering, "You healed her, didn't you? Well, it's your lucky day, for a passing god has seen your act of...sportingness...and has decided that you may be useful to him." Behind him, the cepn slowly got back to her feet and sheathed her dagger, looking puzzled and somewhat disturbed, testing her legs. The lutrai opened his mouth to protest, to tell the sorceror he had no intention of making deals, but Devynn's bony hand came down on his muzzle and kept him quiet, "I will ensure your safety and the safety of your charge, and all you have to do is give me your word of honor you'll repay the favor at a later date."
Another hideous howl, followed by others, more distant, filtered through the dark stone halls, and Lairu jerked his muzzle away from Devynn's hand, looking around frantically for Nimril. Devynn only smiled, and seized the lutrai's throat in his long, cold fingers, "You will suffer, but you cannot possibly imagine what they'll do to the daughter of the Solinar King. I am reasonable, and will consider your arguments later, but for now there is no time. Give me your word, Lairu, and you will save the princess and live to fight another day."
"Where is she?" he snarled, worried sick and furious at the same time, "What have you done with her?"
The sorceror applied a little more pressure to the lutrai's throat, until he was choking mildly, "This offer is good for a limited time only," he hissed. "She's safe, and will remain so for perhaps a few more moments. You've always liked her, haven't you...just imagine that soft young body of hers being melted down into deadbile, that lovely supple skin withering into paper -"
"Alright!" the lutrai screamed, panting through his snarl, "I swear I will repay this favor, as long as there's no terrible irony at the end."
The wizard raised an eyebrow, and laughed, "A scholar, are you?"
"I know what happens to people who make deals with evil wizards."
In spite of all that happened here, the cathedral is still a place of great holy power. The crumbling stone and shattered panes still sing with the faint energy of Kij's light, and some even believe that she visits this place from time to time. Her tears give rise to a rare type of flower that only grows within the ruin, a white, a small star-shapped blossom renouned for its healing qualities. They surround the small graves of the two children who died here six hundred years ago, buried by the lutrai elders before leaving the island forever.