“I remember you, Storm,” William said, grinning at the display. Was the flight meant to impress the Jhagati, he wondered, or did Storm intend to use his show of power as a warning against William himself? The mage’s obvious wariness suggested both reasons as equally valid, with perhaps a slightly heavier weight in William’s direction. The revenant felt honored. He continued with a chuckle, “and if I remember correctly, your lightning was the catalyst Moonwing needed to reduce Jormungstadt to rubble.”

William lowered his hand and moved to his right, positioning the floating mage between himself and the glaring sun instead. Satisfied with the result he nodded up at the crowd overhead, gesturing for Storm to follow his gaze. The Jhagati circled the arena, watching the two men intently. They didn’t roar and jeer in the fashion typical of gladiatorial spectators the world around. Instead, they swayed rhythmically and moaned a low chant that William could only barely catch at the edges of his hearing. Definitely some sort of ritualistic thing, he decided.

Still, under the calmness of the Jhagati’s demeanor William could feel a sense of urgency. The blood ritual, they claimed, was a small evil that was necessary to sate a greater evil and keep it dormant. Even so, the fact that their entire tribe had come out to witness their so-called atrocity told William more than their words could about just how necessary this evil was. Besides, in William’s experience the greater evils would only remain dormant for exactly as long as they wanted to, sacrifice or no.

William returned his gaze back to Storm and met the man’s grey eyes. “I find it hard to believe that the Storm Veritas I’ve heard tables of in the tavern of Althanas would lower himself to participating willingly in such a primitive blood sport. But I also find it hard to believe that a man with your reputation could be easily taken by the Jhagati. It puts me in an odd position.”

William tapped the blade of his warscythe in his hand as he spoke and when he finished he drew the razor edge casually across his palm. He held up his hand to Storm, allowing a line of blood to trickle a spiral path down his forearm. The wound that he’d given himself healed quickly leaving nothing but smooth, unblemished skin behind but William’s attention was drawn to the crimson line gleaming wetly in the harsh sunlight.

“I volunteered to be a sacrifice, you see, though truth be told I couldn’t care less about the Jhagati or their superstitious beliefs. I’m here hunting bigger game.” At this the revenant pointed his bloodied hand at the gate of the Horseman of Death. The crowd overhead had grown silent and still, observing that their sacrifices weren’t acting as they were supposed to. Something else moved in the space where the Jhagati had fallen still however, a rippling motion of energy that felt as vast and as ancient as the sea.

Now that he had everyone’s attention it was as good a time as any for his own display of power, William thought with feral amusement. He released the power within himself, swelling in size as the molten energies of his transformation consumed and bloated him. Flesh charred black and cracked, revealing lines of glowing fire swimming just under the revenant’s surface. Blackened spurs of bone twisted through the skin of his arms and legs, twisting together to fuse a hardened carapace. Finally, as if the power had nothing left to consume within William, it blazed out from him in an aura of furious heat, as if someone had dumped a primed forge into the center of the arena.

“War, conquest, whatever you want to call it,” William said with a shrug, “it’s what made me into this. But even though I have power, I am unbalanced. When I realized that I made it my mission in life to hunt down the other aspects in the form of the other Horsemen of the Apocalypse and to take their power so I can balance myself out.”

“I’ve found two of them so far,” William said. He slashed himself again, though this time he simply clawed a line open on his chest with the bone talons at the end of his fingertips. This time the blood ran thickly from the wounded flesh. It sizzled and popped in the open air like bacon in pan, and where it fell into the dust the earth melted into blackened clumps.

“Pestilence,” William said idly. “Corruption. Blight.”

Then William felt out with the cursed void in his soul, touching the edges of the magic that Storm used to keep himself aloft. It wasn’t enough to shake the enchantment, but Storm would likely be able to feel the yawning hunger inside William that threatened to negate and consume it.

“Famine,” William continued. “Hunger.”

William stepped back, clearly putting several steps between himself and Storm. The sound from the Jhagati overhead came back to him as he did so, only this time it was as an uneasy murmuring rather than a ritualistic chant.

“Today I have come to kill Death itself so that I can be whole,” William said. “Are you going to stand in my way?”