Dor (never, ever call her "Dory" or "Dotty") wandered through the wrecked village. The sun was setting soon, and the young woman was feeling less than safe. Thankfully, the contraptioneers who once lived here had managed to leave in time. The behemoth had flattened their homes, fields, and clever devices, but nobody had been hurt. All the same, this had to stop, and soon. Even though the great monsters could be avoided most of the time, starvation from another ruined crop would still doom them all.
"We haven't much time, child," said a woman's voice from a nearby tree. "You can bring no light, unless you want unwelcome attention, and we still have miles for you to trudge before you can ask to Hear what you Need."
"Okay, Rhea."
A form launched itself from the tree. The young woman still started a bit whenever that happened. The harpy eagle was nearly as big as her, and had a face that was uncannily human-like. She was far smarter than those from Earth, too, and even spoke English in a cultured accent like Dor's barely-remembered great grandmother Susan. As proud as she was, Rhea found none of this particularly odd. She was one of the windfolk, after all.
"When we arrive, you'll need to stay quiet, and unless she specifically asks you to, do not touch Leastrix. She's far more ferocious than she looks. Even the behemoths know to leave her alone."
Dor shuddered a bit at the thought. The things were enormous. The "smallest" of them, if that word could be used, were still bigger than buses.
---
Rhea continued to speak to her as the young woman walked, moving her beak as she did in a way that looked like it should be funny, except it definitely wasn't. The eagle was many things, but funny was far from any of them. At last, sun just below the horizon, they arrived at a cave. Inside, the flickering orange glow of firelight shone. Dor felt some relief. Behemoths were cave-dwellers, but hated any sort of light. If one was inside, the fire would have been snuffed out.
The eagle shook its head at Dor as she questioningly glanced at the cave, then went inside alone. Soft voices issued from within, then finally the eagle spoke aloud, "Enter, human child, and be respectful. The oracle will see you.
Walking in, Dor saw cushions, low tables, lit braziers and candles. The air smelled faintly of incense, or maybe perfume. Reclining on one of the cushions was a winged cloud leopard.
It was the most beautiful creature Dor had ever seen. She had a nearly overpowering urge to rub its ears or run her hands over its glossy fur. Rhea had done well to warn her about touching the oracle. Those who did often lived, but were never left whole.
"Three things for the girl to know. I make this offering," the bird intoned.
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The oracle stretched, then blinked lazily at Rhea. "Why not help her learn these things yourself?" the cat asked in a tone at once petulant and dangerous.
"We've no time. She must know them now, or else everyone nearby will soon be dying. You'll have no one to bring you gifts or prey."
The sphynx looked annoyed, but accepted the explanation.
"We are kin, are we not, Rhea?"
"We are," the eagle agreed.
"Have the girl make her own offering, then. I dislike taking from kin."
"I must do it," Rhea replied, clearly not happy with the arrangement. "The child has her own offerings to make, elsewhere and later."
Leastrix glared with hostility at Dor. The young woman remained silent, showing deference to the oracle.
"She Needs to Hear three Songs, Leastrix. The Song of Wind's Gate, the Song of Twilight, and the Song of Homecoming."
"Child, look away. Seeing this will gain you nothing. Leastrix, I make this offering," the eagle again intoned.
Dor turned away, covering and closing her eyes. She didn't see what happened next - but the sound made her feel sick.
Moments later, the oracle began to sing. Her voice shook, breathing a dissonant power into the air.
"Sing with me and learn this, you useless girl. If you don't, I'll swipe off your ridiculous dull hands."
Struggling with the horror she felt, Dor sang and learned, her eyes still squeezed shut. The heroine memorized her Songs quickly. She didn't want to the sphynx to lose patience.
When at last she was done, Leatrix spoke one last time. "Go. I have done what was required. Leave and never come back."
The last light of the sun had long since vanished, leaving the sky much like pretty much everything her sometimes-friend Aimee wore: pitch black. Stumbling around would eventually get her killed, as would spending the night outside with the giant creatures roaming about.
Her only remaining option was about as bad. Taking a deep breath, Dor called a Wind's Gate and was blasted into the air. Her voice was already strained, but she kept singing, occasionally skipping and plunging groundward, only to resume her rapid flight. The winds would take her where she needed to go - to a treetop eyrie, home to Rhea herself.
Dor slammed into the branches, screaming roughly as she grabbed at anything to keep from falling what she knew to be hundreds of feet. In the daylight, it was scary enough, even though she knew the place to be large and well-constructed. In the absolute darkness of that night, it was terrifying. She cried out and wimpered uncontrollably for what seemed like hours. Finally, her hands shaking, she drew out a small flask, and drank down all of the stale, metallic water inside.
Panting and shaking, she fumbled a lighter from her pocket. Flicking it a couple of times, she finally gained enough visibility to make her way further up the tree. Miraculously, the cold air had little wind. Climbing still wasn't easy. Rough bark scraped the skin on her palm, and a slight slip caused her to drop the lighter in a panic. Once again, in absolute dark, she ascended until her branch began to sway.
Giddy with fear and exhaustion, Dor breathed deeply, then hesitated with unexpected embarassment. Fairy tale worlds were really amazingly humiliating sometimes. The feeling didn't last long, though. The people of this land were better than most of her classmates, and they needed this.
Finally, regaining control of her voice, she shouted out,
"I AM MAGIC, AND IT IS MY JOB TO WAKE UP THE STARS!"
---
Somewhere, in another world under the same sky, Surret bolted upright in his sleep as a distant echo reached him. Gobsmacked, he stared up as strange stars slowly glimmered into existence, along with an eery melody that set his teeth on edge.