The battle between Absolvers atop the tower of Adal raged within the Hanging Gardens. It resided in an area that was delicately balanced between the beautiful architecture of Raslan's brightest engineers and the intricate weaves of nature that crawled over the rooftop in the new, relative absence of mankind's interference. It was a mixture of man's brilliance and nature's intuition, lit by a timid sun hiding behind sparse clouds. The birds could be heard singing, the breeze created a warm symphony between the leaves of the overgrowth, and blows were audibly exchanged with an occasional kiai or grunt of pain.

Risryn weaved between attacks like silk in the hands of a masterful seamstress, and struck with the sharpness of the needle. Her black tunic and cape flowed in the singing breeze, intermittently making a cutting flap noise that contrasted with the peaceful sounds of the Gardens. Under her mask, inspired by Silan, a face twisted, stuck changing between two emotions. One was a wicked smile in the giddy thrill of battle, fighting the one friend from her childhood that was able to consistently put up a fight. The other was a crushed, almost weeping grimace as she realized that perhaps she had indeed done something wrong, and that this fight may be the last she would ever wage with her old friend. In deserting the Guides, Risryn had donned a target for other Absolvers. One couldn't simply leave the upper echelon of Raslan's remaining society.

Vegas, on the other hand, intercepted incoming blows with a rehearsed parry, striking hard against the incoming limb to stun it. His attacks remained direct and practical, practiced thousands of times to maximize efficiency and power. His blue cloak cut through the air like an aquatic ray; it flowed freely in tight arcs with all of the to-the-point attitude of the Absolvers upon which it was bestowed. Under his mask, an alabaster one with a cracked eye of Simeon, was a static emotion of tragedy and perhaps some fear. He was struck by grief already, fearful that he would either accidentally kill Risryn or she would get carried away and kill him. Why'd she have to do this? Why desert the Guides and the future that the two had worked so hard to establish for themselves? Why did the guides select him to face Risryn, even knowing that of all the people who had been granted the title of Absolver, he was the one most closely attached to her? These questions ripped across Vegas' mind with a similar tempo to his strikes.

"You know that the Guides are manipulating us, don't you?" calmly asked Risryn. It took her a lot of effort to hide the exhaustion in her voice.

"They're the reason we're as strong as we are, Risryn…" responded Vegas. His voice was entreating, and unlike his opponent, he didn't attempt to hide that he was winded.

"Because they want to use us," she retorted sharply, "They know that the prospects who fail will go mad in the mines."

Vegas stopped to listen. Risryn continued, "They lose their minds and madly attack anyone who enters. And if they don't, the Guides call them, us, Absolvers. Then they just use us to defend the same mines…"

"Nonsense."

"Truth. Whether we succeed in our goals or not doesn't matter. In the end, we become pawns under their system. Security for their Essence-run economy."

Vegas seemed stunned for a moment, considering the idea that her words may hold truth. But, in classic Risryn fashion, she threw out a surprise strike after distracting him with words. This attack didn't bludgeon, however. It cut. She had summoned her sword. "You aren't going to believe me, anyway, are you…" she muttered. Vegas became confused at the revelation that she had just dropped on him, but the fight went on.

Risryn's blade was a well forged double-edged sword crafted in Uring by some of the best blacksmiths the country had to offer, and with it, she let loose a lighting-fast combo of traditional Windfall maneuvers. Vegas managed to deflect some of these swipes with his gloves, steel plates covered by dark leathers, but the majority came through. He no longer had time to think about whether or not he was really being manipulated by the Guides. He had to fight for his life, now. His friend was convinced that he wasn't convinced.

Risryn had always held an edge in hand-to-hand battles against Vegas, but he was better in any situation with a sword. It nonetheless came as a surprise to her when he caught the blade in one hand and sharply struck at the wrist, disarming her. Vegas spun into a back stance and instinctively thrust the sword behind him and under his arm. The tip of the blade sunk squarely into the heart. Vegas was so rehearsed in this maneuver that he performed it without remembering that this time, it was a real sword. Any hopes he had of taking her back alive spilled out of his mind like a glass of wine bumped by an elbow.

Risryn gasped, losing all of the air in her lungs. She fell backwards, off of the sword and onto the ground, reaching up with one hand towards the noon sun, still hiding behind the clouds. Vegas immediately turned around, realizing what he had done. He threw the sword off to the side and dropped swiftly to his knees beside his friend. Her panicked attempts at breathing sounded like sobs, and blood pooled on her chest. The thrust didn't go far enough to make an exit wound, but definitely connected with some organs. Vegas also panicked. Every few heartbeats, blood literally spurt forth from the wound, sticking to his mask. He rushed to remove her coat and attempted to use it as a bandage, but his attempts to treat her were going to be futile and he could tell.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Risryn, please! Risryn, I'm sorry!" he cried over her dying body. From both of their masks, a tear occasionally dropped. But alas, their weeping could do nothing to remedy the wound. After not even a minute of bleeding out on the floor, Risryn began to go limp, her hand losing its tight grasp on Vegas' and her breathing calming down to a complete standstill. She expired there, in the center of the Hanging Gardens, in a pool of her own blood and tears. Vegas remained over her body, nearly screaming in his sobs.

The sun finally retreated from its nest in the clouds.