The Phoenician's estate remained untouched. The security apparatus had thrown itself into the roaring wind, tearing itself to tatters as every servant and pawn formerly in his pocket rushed out to ensure the survival of their own minor power-bases. In light of the suddenness of the attacks, this response was entirely predictable.
Behind the mirrored glass, now cut just so with the edge of the Blue Diamond, rested the Obsidian Biface Blade. The radiance, ancient and terrible, was even greater than Ujuor had imagined, but the blood in his veins only glowed brighter as he reached out and took it in hand.
"Now I have left behind me my suffering," Ujuor incants, sheathing the blade at his side. The painful charge streams off him, restoring all the disconnected memories.
"I shall strengthen them for the words of war."
The house alarm bleats, a broken crackling, fading into the snaps and howls of the intense flames. Nameless weapons, only now awakened, fire into the fury of it, but find no target, only laughter and taunting: "How can your phoenix be reborn if the shell isn't burnt away, brothers?"
Ujuor makes his dash out the master's window, back to the shadows and the sky.