Arden bounded up to the guards at the entrance to the royal box and flashed a piece of paper in front of them. They hesitated.

“Get out of my way, right now.”

“But, but,” they mumbled. They stared at him for a few moments before they parted their halberds and the swordsman vanished into the corridor.

Hot and humid, the wooden entrance to the royal box was dusty and dimly lit. It turned into a flight of stairs and he made short work of climbing them, hand running along the veneer rail to guide him in the twilight. He burst out onto the balcony, heart racing and eyes narrowed to make sense of the bedlam before him.

“Lords preserve me…”

Half the seats were empty, skeletal wingback chairs ornate and gluttonous. Half the congregation were still in their seats, heads knocked back and limbs hung loosely at their sides. As he approached, he started to see gaping wounds and lacerations on each one, some inches wide and still oozing blood. Delicate silks and well spun wool turned deep crimson and horrified, tortured looks frozen onto their faces told him they had met a painful, sudden end. He grits his teeth.

“Your majesty?” He approached the throne.

Both grander chairs were empty, unmarked and untouched by the feral spirits that ravaged the crowds. He shuddered as their cries grew in intensity in pursuit of the last remaining members of the audience as they tried desperately to push into the rear of each column streaming away from the square. Arden began to feel very uneasy. Not one person in the royal box had made it more than a few feet from their chair. Yet, some were not to be seen, as though they had been spared, or forewarned of what was to come.

“Your majesty!”

He stared at the far end of the box, veiled in roaring flames that barred the far entrance and left the only means of escape a narrow, cluttered and dangerous stairwell. The smell of smoke and fear filled his lungs.

“Sunder the spirits of the dead and give them life,” he clenched his fists. “What dies, shall never die and be remembered. Come to the veil between one world and another.” He punched the air towards the nearest dead noble and the body jolted to life, clicking and shuddering as the tortured spirit that once inhabited it returned with a crack of thunder.