Written in the style of Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny:

“Your men are dead, and you’ve been surrounded,” Dearth said.

“We are surrounded. This day will hurry on without our interference.”

“I’m not the one who’s trapped, Roqui.”

“Nor am I. You came too late, Dearth. Tonight’s script has already begun compiling. When this is all over, I will possess the Orb.”

Dearth snickered. “You’re quite the narcissist, even for an insurrectionary type. How do you intend to get your hands on the Orb? Surely not another grand and complicated heist?”

“Why, you’ll do it for me.”

“Such presumption. You think I’d just hand it over?”

“In fact, I do.”