Nathan hurriedly darted from his chambers, singular in his vision - he had to find his sister Rachel and make sure the assassin that until recently had been mimicking her had not gotten to Genosha's Royal Princess first. So consumed by these thoughts, Nathan never saw Samuel Guthrie cross his path. They collided violently outside of Nathan's room, both men spilling to the floor.

            "Terribly sorry, Milord," Samuel stammered as the two men pulled each other back to their feet. "I was just coming to wake you. Something horrible has happened." Nathan's heart dropped. The assassin must have struck.

            "What happened Sam? Where's Rachel?" The prince grabbed the younger man by the shoulders.

            "The princess? She's fine. In fact, she's with your parents, which is where you need to be. Milord, there's been an attempt on the King and Queen's lives."

            "Attempt? So they failed? Damn it, man what happened?"

            "The assassin is dead, slain by King Summers' hand. But the king was wounded, sir, and the blade may have been poisoned. Lord Xavier is on his way." Sam continued talking, but Nathan was miles away, already turning and running down the halls of the palace, contingency plans and strategies racing through his head. He would later vaguely recall knocking over a dozen or more palace servants on the way to his parents' chambers; he was a man possessed and no force on earth could keep him from his destination.

            The doors to the royal chambers were closed as he arrived, and a larger than life man guarded the entrance.

            "Step aside Bishop; I need to see my parents." Lukhas Bishop made no motion to indicate and intention to budge. Bishop was Captain of the King's Guard, and a longtime servant of the royal family. The man was an intimidating sight. He stood nearly seven feet tall, and wore a permanent scowl that was nearly as menacing as the double-edged battle axe he wielded. A descendent of the Genoshan tribesmen who once inhabited the island, Lukhas Bishop's skin was dark as night, and unlike many military men who wore their hair cropped short, Bishop's flowed down past his shoulders in thick braids now speckled with hints of gray after many years of service.

            "Milord," Bishop's voice was deep and booming, yet melodic at the same time. "The assassin was a skrull."

            "I know." Bishop concealed his shock, albeit barely.

            "But how…" Nathan cut the guardsman off.

            "One attacked me as well. It, it was disguised as Rachel."

            "Aye. Then you understand I cannot allow you to enter the royal chambers without confirming your identity." Bishop's own hand was freshly bandaged; he must have cut it to confirm his blood ran red and not green. Nathan drew Graymalkin.

            "The skrull'd have to kill me to get this. A royal blade of Genosha is not easy to come by." He tested the edge on his thumb, drawing a drop of dark, red blood. "Happy?"

            "For light's sake, Lukhas, must you automatically revert to bloodshed every time a problems needs solved?" It was Xavier, the court doctor and the royal family's most trusted advisor. "The sun's come up lords, we shall go in, and if we do not turn to stone in the morning light, we are not villains." The elderly wizard looked at the prince. "Nathaniel, you I at least hoped would be using his head in this crisis."

            "A lot is happening quickly," Nathan replied defensively.

            "Yes. I hear you were also attacked," Xavier noted, "I assume the skrull is dead?" Nathan nodded. "Well now is not a time for excuses, Prince Summers. While decisiveness is a virtue, action without logic is not a trapping of a great monarch. You'd be best to remember that next time you think about stabbing yourself when you don't have to," scolded Xavier. His face quickly softened though. "Come, lad, let's go see your parents. Sir Bishop?" The hulking man turned and pushed open the two thick wooden doors that led to the bedchambers of the King and Queen of Genosha. Nathan rushed inside, while Xavier, relying on his staff, hobbled in behind.

            The scene was all too familiar. Another palace bedroom, another dead skrull. This one had been dressed as a palace servant. It too had a jagged knife shoved deep into its chest. Apparently the legend was true; the assassin seemed to have turned completely to stone.

            "Nathan!" his sister leapt from the bedside she had been sitting at with their mother. She jumped into Nathan's arms.

            "It's alright, Red, I'm here now. Everything will be alright."

            "Well let's hope so, son," rasped his father weakly. King Summers of Genosha was prone in bad, his face white as the sheets he rested upon. Queen Madelyne wiped her husband's brow with a damp rag, and Xavier had already begun to investigate the wound. It was a deep uneven slash on the king's side. There wasn't a lot of blood, and the cut had probably missed any important internal organs, but the whole area had turned a dark shade of purple. Xavier pulled a small leather pouch from his coat. Pouring out a handful of a gravelly substance, the wizened doctor began to fill the wound with it. The king writhed in pain.

            "Light, Xavier, what are you doing to him?"

            "Closing the wound, Nathaniel. Additionally, these herbs will help the king sleep and draw out any physical poison." He looked at the ailing king. "Rest well, old friend. When you awake, all will be well." The herbal medicine seemed to work almost immediately; King Summers breathing became regular and soon he drifted off into fairly peaceful rest. "He'll sleep for the next day or so. That will give us time to make some plans."

            "What did you mean by 'physical poison'?" asked Rachel.

            Xavier looked grimly at the young princess, "It means that I fear the king has been infected with a mystical agent. Where's the blade that caused the wound?"

            "Buried deep into the body of the assassin, who now happens to be made of stone," she replied.

            "Small matter child," Xavier stood from the bedside, using the bedpost for support when his knees began to buckle. Nathan knew Xavier was old, but not how old. He looked to be in his seventies, but had so as long as Nathan had known him and the prince had known the wizard for his whole life. He had been his father's mentor, as well as his grandfather's. The old man walked over to the fallen skrull and murmured, "Relesser Armorum." Nathan felt the hairs on his arms rise, as they often did when Xavier cast spells. Xavier was the only true wizard Nathan had ever met and was supposedly one of the last in the world. "I've become a relic of a time almost forgotten," he had once told the prince.

            Xavier reached for the blade and pulled it free like it was lodged in butter instead of solid stone. He examined the blade and Nathan noticed it was identical to the one his own skrull had tried to use on him.

            "Just as I feared," the wizard said with sadness in is voice. "This is an Akkabian blade, forged from the Death God's own armory. It is beyond my power to heal."

            "What does that mean, Xavier? Are we just going to give up on my father?" demanded Rachel.

            "Of course not child. Fetch me ink and paper. There are only a few sorcerers still alive that can cleanse the taint of an Akkabian blade, and one happens to be the head of my order. If anyone can heal the king, Stephen Strange can."

            "Xavier," said Nathan. "There's something else. The skrull that attacked me said something."

            Nathan's mother gasped. "Attacked? By the twelve, are you alright?" Nathan nodded.

            "I'm fine. It killed itself when it realized the attempt had failed. But it said something, called me something. Kaluachi. Do you know what it means?" Xavier's eyes widened.

            "But it's too soon…"