Lord Vane's estate, home to the Minister of Trade, looked like a mansion but was really a fortress. It stood on sea cliffs, ringed by high stone walls. The Iron Legion patrolled outside, mercenaries who were costly, loyal only to money, and ruthless.
Rain poured down in heavy sheets, turning everything gray and muffling all sound.
Mirabelle waited at the heavy iron gates, sheltered by a black umbrella that Revas held above her. He used one hand for the umbrella and kept the other in his pocket, quietly humming a lullaby.
"Twelve guards on the perimeter," Revas said, glancing at the walls. "Three snipers on the roof. And I smell... wolves? Did he really get guard wolves? That's so cliché."
"Lord Vane is paranoid," Mirabelle said, watching the rain hit the cobblestones. "He keeps the rebel funds in a vault under the wine cellar. It's made of Star-Steel. He says not even a dragon could melt it."
Revas laughed. "Dragons are just angry lizards."
He moved forward, angling the umbrella to keep Mirabelle dry as he stepped into the rain. Water never touched him...it hissed and vanished just before reaching his skin, leaving a faint ring of steam around him.
"Shall I ring the bell?" Revas asked.
"No," Mirabelle said. "Knock."
Revas grinned. He walked up to the massive iron gate, which was reinforced with magical wards glowing faint blue. He placed his palm flat against the metal.
"Open sesame," he whispered.
BOOM.
The gate didn't open...it blew off its hinges! The heavy iron bars shot backward like arrows, flying across the courtyard at incredible speed. Mercenaries patrolling the garden didn't even have time to register what was happening. The twisted metal impaled them against the manor's front door, pinning them like butterflies to a corkboard.
Alarms started blaring right away, and shouts came from inside the house.
Revas walked back to Mirabelle and offered his arm again, the umbrella steady.
"After you, Mistress."
They walked along the garden path. The Iron Legion rushed out of the manor...fifty men in heavy armor, carrying crossbows and broadswords.
"Halt!" the Captain roared. "Fire!"
A volley of crossbow bolts whistled through the air.
Revas sighed but kept walking. He waved his free hand through the air, as if brushing away a fly.
A wave of red butterflies burst from his sleeve. They swarmed ahead, catching the bolts in midair. Wood and steel turned to ash at once. The butterflies continued forward, crashing into the front line of the mercenaries.
This wasn't a battle. It was a harvest.
The butterflies slipped through armor like it was smoke. The men fell, their armor untouched but their bodies inside turned to dust. The silence of their deaths was more frightening than any scream.
"Wolves!" the Captain shouted, retreating. "Release the wolves!"
A side gate opened, and six huge dire wolves charged out, snarling and snapping their jaws.
Revas' eyes lit up. "Puppies!"
He handed the umbrella to Mirabelle. "Hold this for a moment, My Lady. I want to pet them."
Mirabelle took the umbrella and watched as the Monster of the Abyss crouched, opening his arms wide like he was ready for a hug.
The alpha wolf leaped for his throat.
Revas caught it in mid-air. One hand on its upper jaw, one on its lower.
"Bad dog," Revas scolded gently.
He pulled.
A wet, tearing sound filled the air. Revas threw the two halves of the wolf aside and stood, wiping blood from his cheek. The other five wolves stopped, whimpering, then tucked their tails and ran back to their cages.
"Smart dogs," Revas said with a laugh. He took the umbrella from Mirabelle, his suit still perfectly dry. "Shall we go to the cellar? I'm thirsty."
The wine cellar was cool and smelled of oak and vintage grapes. The door to the vault was exactly as Lord Vane had described: a massive circular slab of Star-Steel, glowing with complex locking runes.
Two guards stood in front of the door. They saw Revas, covered in wolf blood but smiling. They dropped their weapons and ran.
"Wise choice," Revas said as he walked up to the vault door.
"It requires a key made of goblin bone and a password spoken in..." Mirabelle began to explain the security.
Revas ignored her. He pressed both hands against the cold metal of the door.
"Heat," he commanded.
His veins glowed orange like magma under his skin. The cellar air turned hot as an oven. Wine bottles started popping, corks flying, and red wine boiling in the glass.
The Star-Steel door groaned, turned cherry red, then white, and finally began to drip.
The door slumped like melting candle wax. It turned to liquid, pooling on the stone floor in a glowing puddle of molten metal.
Revas stepped over the slowly cooling puddle and bowed. "The bank is open."
They walked inside.
The vault was packed with gold: stacks of ingots, chests of coins, and jewels taken from the provinces. It was enough to buy an army or fund a war against the Crown.
Mirabelle stared at the gold. Its cold, yellow shine reflected in her eyes.
"This is what they sold me for," she whispered. "This is the price of a Princess."
"It's tacky," Revas said, picking up a gold bar and crushing it into a ball like playdough. "It reeks of greed. Should we steal it?"
"No," Mirabelle replied. "If we steal it, we're just thieves. If we destroy it, we become a catastrophe."
She looked at Revas.
"Melt it," she ordered. "All of it. Turn it into a worthless lump of slag."
"With pleasure."
He walked to the center of the room and raised his arms. The shadows in the vault's corners came alive.
Black fire erupted from his hands. It swirled around the room like a tornado of dark heat. Gold bars hissed, coins seemed to scream as they melted, and jewels cracked and shattered.
In minutes, Lord Vane's huge fortune was nothing but a swirling lake of molten gold on the floor.
"Wait," Revas said, holding up a hand. The fire died down.
He looked at the lake of liquid gold.
"It needs a centerpiece. Every work of art needs a focal point."
He snapped his fingers.
From the hallway, the body of the mercenary Captain who had crawled down to try to ambush them floated into the room, carried by butterflies. He was dead, but his body was intact.
Revas dropped the body into the center of the molten gold.
The body didn't sink. It sizzled, encased instantly in the cooling metal.
Revas shaped the gold with his fingers as it cooled. He pulled the liquid metal up, covering the corpse and freezing it in a pose of endless screaming agony. It hardened into a grotesque golden statue of a man dying in greed.
"There," Revas said, stepping back to admire his work. "I'll call it 'The Golden Death.'"
Mirabelle looked at the statue. It was horrifying. It was perfect.
"Let Lord Vane come down here and see his fortune," she said. "Let him see that his gold cannot save him."
She turned to leave.
Revas followed, stepping over the cooling floor. When they reached the stairs, he paused and glanced back at the golden statue.
"You know," he said, offering Mirabelle his arm, "I might have a future in interior decorating. It really brings the room together."
A small, dark smile appeared on Mirabelle's lips.