The chosen few gathered in a room in the shadow of Shayol Ghul. If one did not look too closely, the huge room could have been in a palace, with its tall marble fireplaces and its golden lamps hanging from the domed ceiling, its colorful tapestries and intricately patterned mosaic floor. If one did not look too closely.

The fireplaces were cold, for one thing. Flames danced on logs as thick as a man's leg, but gave no heat. The walls behind the tapestries, the ceiling high above the lamps, were undressed stone, almost black. There were no windows, and only two doorways, one at either end of the room. It was as if someone had intended to give the semblance of a palace reception chamber but had not cared enough to bother with more than the outline and a few touches for detail.

The figures wore black, from head to toe. Black masks and heavy black cloaks, hiding their identity. Though not perfectly. If one was observant, one could see the swish of blue and green fabics, could see the tattoo inscribed on one guest's hand, could see the proud posture of the Andoran woman.

Servants circulated through the guests, slender, golden-haired youths proffering wine with a bow and a wordless smile. Young men and young women alike, they wore tight white breeches and flowing white shirts. And male and female alike, they moved with disturbing grace. Each looked more than a mirror image of the others, the boys as handsome as the girls were beautiful. Undistinguishable from one another.

They offered goblets on trays that guests took and didn't drink, their eyes blank and empty of all intelligence or life. Other than these youths, the room was nearly empty. While usually full with dark milling figures at these functions, this dawn the guest list numbered only eight. And they were getting worried. It could be seen in the way they twitched their cloaks and paced the room.

Suddenly, there was a pressure in the air. A dark red glow emanated from the air above them and a hazy figure started to appear, sending chills down their spines and forcing them to the floor in fear. At once, ragged voices started to take up a breathy chant.

"The Great Lord of the Dark is my Master, and most heartily do I serve him to the last shred of my very soul. Lo, my Master is death's Master. Asking nothing do I serve against the Day of his coming, yet do I serve in the sure and certain hope of life everlasting. Surely the faithful shall be exalted in the land, exalted above the unbelievers; exalted above thrones, yet do I serve humbly against the Day of his Return. Swift come the Day of Return. Swift come the Great Lord of the Dark to guide us and rule the world forever and ever."

The figure gazed over them all with contempt. "Enough." He said finally. "Rise. You have been called here for a very specific purpose. Some of you have proven to be most loyal to the DarK Lord and are here to be rewarded. and some of you..." he looked toward one of the doorways, not the one they had themselves entered through, which led to rooms where they had changed into their robes in dicretion, the other one. It opened. All eyes followed his glance as four white-clothed youths, two boys and two girls, carried in a body. They were followed by another group of four with a burden. Quietly they placed the bodies under the feet of the floating figure and quietly they left, unheedful of the stains of blood that now marred their white garb. The figure looked on in silence,letting the silence gather and fill the room before he again spoke.

Ten were called. Ten arrived. Only eight survive. Some of you were called here to be rewarded. And some of you were called for a very different purpose. Treason!" The figure raked his fiery gaze along the group and all flinched back at his anger. "It has come to our attention that some of you are no longer loyal at this perilous juncture. Those who are loyal will be exalted. Those who are not will be punished. And I leave it to you, my loyal ones, to find the traitors within your midst and to ensure their disloyalty never again becomes a...problem."

The figure started to fade out. "Until the traitors are caught, you shall remain here. I suggest you work quickly, before those not of our inclination begin to question your disappearance. Any problem at this point of time will be dealt with swiftly and painfully." He waved a hand and a wave of fire and pain seemed to attack the guests, bringing them down to their knees, curled in agony.

When they recovered, the figure was gone. Apart from them, there was no one in the room except for a line of servants kneeling at the walls to do their bidding. And their cloaks and masks had disappeared.

...