The morning of the ritual came two days after my discomfited visit to the Loredans. By then, the harshest bouts of summer downpours were behind us and the return of fair weather was imminent. Still the cloudy sky threatened its last tempestuous turn ere leaving for good, admitting not even the slightest glimpse of daylight. ‘Twas in this complete darkness of early morning that the city marched. All over the city, spilling and packed with people, the overflowing winding streets undulated upwards, till converging at last at the peak of Mount Tithonus. It was a day to celebrate with feasts and songs, that not for weddings or funerals do the Tithoness make so much merry throughout the day, so great was the event in the locals’ year. The greatest, in fact, for to celebrate our captain - Lady Aurora of the Dawn - is to celebrate their origin and greatest patron. And too, for many among them were either former, current, or would-be members of the Daybright’s crew. It was a moment to live once more the glory of one’s past, or to catch a glimpse of their future employers and shipmates. And on so holy a day, all but the slaves and azures onboard were allowed ashore to share in this ancient heritage.

Floating in these streams of people were islands of animals of burden, their bobbing backs laden with casks of wine and parcels of food. For the duration of the ritual, Tithonese would lightly dine, mingle, and wait for the light of day, all in complete darkness. They bore torches and lamps now, but when the event begins proper all fires would be extinguished. And for this tradition, one could guess what goaded the young couples to race ahead, giggling as they sought to reserve some private nook at the mountaintop.

All in all, silliness and abandon was the prevailing mood. Amid laughter and light jest, I marked an imposing young woman carrying on her shoulder another lass of slighter weight, guffawing as they went; and many other amusing, if peculiar sights.

And even the pilgrims and travelers, whose fortunate arrival had coincided with the Daybright’s docking, were eager for this rare opportunity. For in no other places one may behold so ancient a rite to be carried out in all its unaltered customs since the first age recorded. And too, the only one whose chief deity could still be observed by the naked eye.

But there was no festive mood for Ala Estival. Of seven, five were to participate in this very ritual to come. Naught had the heart for laughter.

Litzia and her sullen temper never abated. ‘Twas warranted, for I never answered her demand for a final decision regarding our pledge. I simply could not. I had not it in me to quit now. Not for her, not even for myself. But for the main actress of the tragedy to come: Acis, Galanthus, Valerian, and Wisteria.

Litzia had said she could not compensate for all the things she had made me go through. But this, she might. So what if I must use my pledge like a crude device to prevent this unwanted play? My pledge-sister had of a surety done me worse by it. It was reason enough, and so the aggrieved wyverness acceded to my selfish request for this last flight.

As we marched with heavy hearts, I stole a look at the source of troubles, the pair of white among my companions.

Galanthus and Acis had answered my report of the delivered message with no significant sentiments. I never told them of Wisteria’s hideous accusation, nor had I reported it to the mates. That wyverness had the right to do it herself, if she had so much faith in her judgment. For my part, I never believed Galanthus and Acis to be such vile murderers or conspirators. But my conviction of their innocence owned in great part to their being my ala-sisters and friends, and not for aught logical rationale or solid proofs.

All the same, I had no right to favor one side over the other.

So I had thought. Yet now with the ritual so close at hand, I saw that Galanthus’ mood stayed foul. Her hand gripped Acis’ hard as they walked, her face set in such a grimace so as to herald violence. For all my trust and friendship, I fear the worst should Wisteria Loredan’s words ring true.

But if I had still the faintest glimmer of hope that my worries were excessive, and that being a silly azure, I was only being overexcited by the notion of something most ordinary people would find a paltry quarrel, Gladiola soon banished the thought.

Our ever calm and collected Prima pulled me aside on our way to the Sanctuary, and for the third time in as many weeks, told to my private ear her grave caution.

“I think you have learned the whole or most of their story by now,” she said, her eyes of steel narrowed, “You know what is at risk, but even so I must needs send my words where my blade could not! Now, Valerian has my unfailing trust, she is my lieutenant and good friend. And she has her virtues, and her mad devotion to circumvent the fate she had twice suffered. You know her well, if only for so brief a time, and she’s no easy opponent for any, not when her heart is in the combat. And too I trust Galanthus and Acis, for some years we have flown together. But Fate has her twisted turns, and much interest in our affairs she has betrayed of late, that I fear the worst is yet to come. But should that happen, and perils hang in balance, as it may very well do, only you and Litzia will be there to tip the scales, understand?

“Now I know not what your pledge-sister is up to, nor shall I overturn my promise and pry upon it. But I would that the true meaning of the pledge is known to you ere it is rent. Work together, Aster, and keep your sisters-Alae safe, and I mean Wisteria also, for already I consider her one of us. But commands I give you not, nor do I beseech as your Prima Alae, but a friend -- that one word never I utter but to one who deserves it - the Under knows how many I have lost, and I do not wish to add to that tally aught.” A rough hand clasped my shoulder. “Best of luck, Aster, I pray you will emerge as once more my friend and sister.”

Neither Litzia nor Thea needed to ask what Gladiola had told me. I had kept no secret from them that they could not already guess.

The Sanctuary was in full bloom under the night sky, lamplights suffused every ground around the central pit, and for every few distances large vases were placed and adorned with orchids, peonies, irises, carnations, and roses. The population of the city and the Astraea sat or stood at almost every tier of the descending hollow. At every entrance into the mountain armed women prevented passage. Upon a dais to the east, the mates stood flanked by a host of monks in golden saffron, but the captain was nowhere to be found.

On our way to the dais, I passed half-hearted looks at the terracotta pots. Upon which legends of the Dawn were depicted. Most prominent was the terrible winged goddess’ preying upon hapless young men or women as they fled in terror from immortal love. Others denoted a tale older still, of when the Dawn not yet held faith in the world, and so some days would not stir from her berth under the skybed.

Our Ala separated as Gladiola and Hortensia departed for their honored seats. At the dais’ foot, Wisteria joined with Valerian. She took no notice by deliberation of the White pair beside us. All the same, as we were of one Ala we stood together apart from the rest. Seventeen pairs all told. Among them, I spotted the other scions of the magnates and the odd Anemone Alare who came to accompany their new pledges, even as Valerian. But not all of them would succeed in the ritual.

The Book of Names were read. And Justitia pronounced the ritual’s beginning. At once all lights were extinguished, and darkness dominated. All over the mountain at this hour likewise, all candles and lamps had been snuffed. We could see no further than the person directly next to us. The chief mate’s echoing voice assaulted with even greater shuddering effect in this dark, added by the hollow into the mountain’s heart.

Hymns were sung, and would have lulled me to sleep as it did some of the audience if not for the tension in my veins. By the count of songs, I knew that it had passed the time of sunrise, and yet the horned moon held reign and the horizon stirred not.

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So it was that we entered the endless night.

We were guided by the monks, pair by pair, to our designated entrance. The last I saw of Acis and Galanthus, their hands held each other’s fast. Into a tunnel each pair was ushered. And then it was only me and Litzia as the stone door was pushed flushed into the wall behind us. All were pitch-black.

I reached out to my sides, and touched with both hands the walls. The corridor was too narrow for flight. The stuffy air squeezed my chest tight.

“What now?” I turned to where Litzia was supposed to be.

“Stay close, Aster,” she said and held my hand. Hers was cold to the touch.

And so we started down the cramped pathway. It was a labyrinth like no other, and of a surety strange to air-farers such as I and Litzia. Its smooth passage followed no sensible patterns, but would turn up and down upon a whim, or to this side and that, and yet seemingly led nowhere. There were countless markings on the walls that I could perceive by the touch, whether they were some ancient scripts or images I could not know.

I initially thought these corridors would eventually lead to another pair partaking in the ritual, and yet we heard naught, while our eyes could not see much further from our lids. I knew Litzia only by her breaths, quiet and measured. And in such a way we walk with our hands persisted on the engraved surfaces, fearing to miss a turn. Yet when coming upon a crossroad, there was no way to tell which of the identical darkness we should follow.

After a time, having been much wrought by the anxiety of sightlessness and confined space, I could not bear but ask foolishly, “Do you know where we are?”

From the space before me, Litzia’s voice echoed, “Some way deeper than where we started, but not much further from the entrance.” She paused for a while. For someone who had spent her entire life upon an airship like me, navigation in such a place was impossible. I trusted in Litzia's judgment and keen senses, but I knew even she was not that certain of her verdict. She added, “I have been trying to pick our way outward, but these tunnels run in circles. I wonder if it’s not some manner of trickery.”

“‘Tis a maze, I think. Is there no trick to navigate such structures?”

“Some, Aster. But none that should work against sorcery. Can you reach your runestaff?”

Obediently, I flung it off my shoulder and touched the depressed lines on its material.

“What should I do?”

“Try shooting.”

With a sweep of hand to make sure that the wyverness was not in range, I leveled the staff, and in a second, the runes glowed, illuminated too briefly to discern the markings on the walls. A blast of light exited the other end of the runestaff, and launched straight ahead, on and on, until still in one straight line its scope and radiance were reduced to nothing by the growing distance. And yet never did we see the impact we expected. It was as though the tunnel went on to infinity.

We were back to where we had begun, none the wiser to where our course should lay. Or so I thought. Suddenly Litzia’s cold hand reached and seized my shoulder. She had seen something. I could not know what or where, for I couldn’t see where she faced, and all about was a perfect darkness as before.

“Do it again,” she said, “this time skyward.”

Obeying her direction, I leaned back and pointed the staff directly over our heads, then hesitated. “It is the ceiling there,” I said, “what if…”

“Don’t worry, it won’t collapse.” She squeezed my shoulder, lending the confidence I needed for an apparently foolish act.

The runes glowed, and once more the blast shot from my weapon. Once more it flew to a great distance. But this time, to my bewilderment, the walls on either side after a time ceased to be illuminated, long before the glow had disappeared from sight.

“There’s an opening up there,” Litzia said.

“But the air is dusty.”

“There’s nothing to it, we must form the pledge. May I?”

There was a reluctance to her request, and haltingly her hands touched my arms and then slid down to my fingers. I faced her dumbly. More than mere darkness separated our vision then.

“Do you hate it?” she said softly.

“I chose this.” ‘Twas true. And yet I did it for the sake of friends, not my pledge-sister. An anathema it seemed. And Galanthus’ voice since long ago echoed here in my ears: it is not natural. Or so at least according to her, what is natural is the apprehension at a pledge ungenuinely made.

Again, Litzia said gently, as though reading my mind, “You need not do this if you don’t want to. We can sit here and wait until the ritual ends and they will come for us.”

“But…”

“Do not concern yourself with the safety of others beyond your abilities, Aster. They could take care of themselves, and Valerian may do much more than we ever could. We all have our limits, don’t we? I mislike seeing you push yours too far. And the other things… they do not matter.”

By the intertwining of our fingers, I gripped Litzia’s hands, my face cast to the darkness at my feet.

“My limits as an azure you mean.”

“You know I did not mean that, not even human…”

“‘Tis the same! Why must I deny my nature? I need not these gentle words of yours to know my weaknesses! Think you I have ever tried to challenge them? Nay, not once, not till you came and forced me to. And now, you’re saying it’s alright if I don’t? Are you making fun of me?”

“What do you want me to say then?” pain laced her words, “It is my fault and selfishness that drove me to involve you in my schemes. I could not have you suffer this anymore, I could scarce stand seeing it. Spare yourself and spare us this. Do not endure any longer.”

“Then don’t do it in the first place!” I cried, “Don’t give me hope that I could change where I could not! An azure indeed I am and ever I shall be. The only hopes our kind has are those in vain, and yet you gave me it, and took from me the comfort of hopelessness! The damage is done yet now you think to simply bow your head and utter some empty regrets? All so we could part ways in amity?”

“In hate then,” with a sharp tone she cried out and pulled away, “Hate me and leave if you will not leave in grace!”

“Leave?” I spat out the bitterness upon my tongue, and held fast her hands to prevent escape. “You are as eager to abandon a cause as you do a person! Of this I will tell you, Litzia, I have come this far, and had borne more perils than aught others of the glorious Estival Alares has of late. I made my choice to move onward and to become aught else than what I am. Now I stand by my decision!”

“And what of your precious shipmates, eh?” she snapped back, “will you be able to stand against them when I do? Or do you intend to check me the moment freedom is within my reach? Think you I may countenance such a traitorous pair? Trust me when I say I am no stranger to betrayals, by my own hand or another’s, and I know well how to best deal with one: ere my back is turned!”

“Utter fool that you are! To think you deserve aught more than a sneaky traitor for a pledge, when you yourself are one! Sure, I may betray you one day when my hands are forced. But think you aught else might assent to your quest of madness to oppose the captain? Naught! There’s never under these skies a greater fool than I to dare it, for no greater cause than a false promise! Yet when it comes to it, I shall not have you harm the innocent. But don’t lie, Litzia, who calls me her pledge-sister, if only for a time, I know you would never willingly cause suffering in others. I know what you are, if not what’s inside your heart, for it is hidden from me. But you are not a cold-blood murderer! So take my hands, and make me do it again! Neither you nor I shall go into the dark alone.”

In answer there was but one shudder that ran from hers to mine. “I did not do that again, did I?” she asked darkly and full of meaning.

“Mayhaps you did. Mayhaps you did not,” I said gently, for I knew pain wrung her heart to think she manipulated me into what I said, “But the truth and courage you inspire, in me at least, do not lie. It is my wish to form this pledge, for our friends, for myself, and not least for you. So shall we?”

With a sigh of mixed relief, the wyverness nodded and once more our digits locked. The pledge then formed, though not with the bright radiance of our first, was natheless genuine.

We soared against the cramped confines of the walls, struggling skyward as Litzia’s wings beat against the stone, and at times she must crawl upon the rough surface to recover from a drop.

And yet no matter the challenges, we must overcome our situation, so that we may eventually emerge into a space where our wings could spread.