Astraea

Threnodias beckons.

Of his six present, he gestures to the only one with visible graying hairs. A black shadow of a dress dances across the hall, golden stars trailing in the wake stirred by proximity to my divine manifestation of winds.

My grip tightens as I redirect the weapon away from the two of them, cracking stone foundation beneath me as I do so.

Showing no concern for the rest of the room, she tugs her prince into a kiss before prying wordless reassurances from Threnodias.

Scooping an arm around him, she dips her prince backwards whilst positioning her head above his. Their eyes lock as she dig nails into the Ninth Prince’s neckline. Blood spirals up her fingers, hardens into a crystalline construct, and is firmly grasped as something begins to take shape. With a hitched breath from Threnodias, his bride extracts enough blood to forge a blade.

A sharp flick of her wrist spatters any excess upon the ground before she seals the wound with another kiss. The two linger in each other’s embrace for far longer than necessary for the bloodforged blade to change hands. Before they part, Threnodias thumbs away blood from his bride’s lips.

Once his bride is safely away, Threnodias turns to level a very solid bloodforged blade at my heart.

Taking it as an invitation, I strike with the kind of force an accomplished evoker could cause with a conjured bolt of lightning or ball of flames. Only with the wind at my back and in my hands, there is time enough to strike Threnodias three times within the same time frame an incantation would demand.

To his credit, he makes no attempt at blocking the full force of my assault. He relies instead on redirection and mitigation, quickly coming to the conclusion that he should give ground freely and often.

I am a whirlwind of strikes conjuring up a thunderous storm of impacts that would break a lesser weapon.

Three tables full of Lunariang guests behind Threnodias evacuate moments before he levels the nearest one to throw with his off hand.

I throw caution to the wind, relaxing my grip on the gales to send him and all three tables flying into the back wall.

Mirrors flicker as they are lit up with the presence of a newfound audience.

Lunaria’s Moon murdering Seers are just in time to watch as Threnodias emerges from a pile of tablecloths with a delighted laugh. “And here I thought my sister died to treachery! Tell me, Lady Wyrmsbane, did she die honorably at the end of your glaive?”

I jab my weapon into the ground, giving everyone around us time to gain more distance now that it is clear our engagement will be a destructive one. Only once everyone is safely clear do I give an answer. “I may have blocked her column’s escape, but she was willing to purchase the lives of her Lunarians with her own. None of your kind die cleanly, however. The moment I had the best of her, I made sure nothing was left of her to recover.”

Threnodias nods. “And what of her dolls? She brought all five of hers, as is customary for any long term engagement.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Entrusted to the safekeeping of someone who could afford to grant them any life or body they desire.”

That gets a snarl out of him. “I don’t believe you. What reason would you have to go that far for strangers?”

With a shrug of my shoulders, I step forward and brace myself to resume our duel. “Make me yield and I’ve already agreed that you can pry her name from my lips.”

The Ninth Prince is not afforded time to think on that. My glaive explodes a section of the floor, propelling me into the air above Threnodias. He himself kicks off the wall to evade me reducing everything around his immediate vicinity to debris.

Taking advantage of his own body’s regenerative capacity, he is happy to eat the full weight of an instant reversal of momentum wreaking havoc on his body’s joints. But that kind of abuse affords him an opportunity to at last go on the offensive.

His blade carves through the stone wall as if it were air, demanding I drop low and leverage my glaive to create some distance between us.

That didn’t slow him down for a moment, did it?

I growl as I intercept his next two swings, feeling the impact in my shoulders and wrists even though my glaive has no singular haft that should concentrate the weight of his attacks.

Instead of the force of his swings being defused against the rending vortex of wind, his blade cracks against my guard.

Sensing an opportunity, I dance with the wind into and out of his range in an attempt to bring our fight to a swift end. Only two strikes later and I can find no trace of the crack I heard.

Nothing about this is adding up.

His sister fought with a small armory of weapons that she would happy to break or discard at a moment’s notice.

This fight is going nothing like my last confrontation with one of the Castellan’s brood.

Whatever he and is, he is interacting with divine magic as if…

In a moment of doubt, my divine glaive snaps in half.

Threnodias smirks.

“Yield.” His voice is calm, delicate even.

But command falls on deaf ears.

I advance before my weapon can dissipate.

And I take a blade through my side for the rouble.

I dig one claw into his shoulder before meeting his gaze.

“You first.”

It is enough to steady my aim enough to jab the tip of a dying hurricane into his chest.

Everyone dies poorly.

He’s not special.

Not in this or any other regard.

Threnodias… Comes unspun.

His dress is the first to be torn away, revealing a body covered in golden scales not unlike Ayre’s.

The cries that erupt from his lungs would be beautiful if I did not suspect them to belong to everyone he has ever fed upon.

It is a sudden eruption of fire from his lungs that saves him.

The moment what remains of hurricane glaive parts from my grip, I allow it to sweep me off my feet in hopes of clearing the sudden blaze.

But the damage is done, leaving me struggling to rise to my feet.

Pushing through blinding pain, my hands find a discarded blade forged from blood.

I stumble towards the source of the now spreading inferno, all thoughts of treating this like a duel forgotten.

I have an opportunity to achieve far more than just freeing Amari’s sisters. I can put an end to one of the Castellan’s eldest. The ones who actually rule over Vylia and oppress its neighbors with their largely unchecked conquests.

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The blaze roars with an intensity I only expect from the most venerable wyrms.

Can’t let Ayre see this.

Can’t let Ayre become this.

Can’t… conjure up anymore divine breath to ward off the worst of it.

I… I can’t let myself die here.

“I YIELD!”

My lungs give out as the source of the flames begins to subside.

But the pain of what I have already pushed through…

It envelops me completely.

And I succumb to it.

***

Selescia

Fia has been twisting my hand under the table since the moment Amari went rigid.

The white furred fox just stands there, her hands fretting at the fabric of her red dress. They have since the moment Astraea conjured a weapon made entirely out of a length of what looks like an intense current of wind.

I don’t have time to questions intricacies of the sudden hostility growing in the audience. Not when Amari’s signs of distress began far earlier than anyone else’s.

Fia can’t tear her gaze from Amari, mouthing words without volume.

She’s hurting. I see it now. I made Aelinore look like that.

The duel escalates.

I squeeze Fia’s hand reassuringly.

Amari doesn’t stay.

Not til the end.

Her departure does not go unnoticed.

Vallishandra, first of Threnodias’s dolls turned brides, meets my gaze with an artfully quirked eyebrow. She’s curious, I realize, openly questioning whether I intend to follow after her.

“Yield.”

“You first.”

Vallishandra holds my stare, seemingly unconcerned with the fate of her Prince. The rest of Threnodias’s brides look poised to leap from the table the moment it is appropriate to do so.

Fia’s grip tightens as a sudden introduction of heat and flame alights part of the chamber.

Most back away. And I can hardly blame them. Smoke is a nasty threat within an enclosed space.

“Go to her.” I whisper, my lips pressed to Fia’s ear.

She nods, rising with the rest of the brides.

Vallishandra matches pace with me, adopting an appropriately concerned expression for a number of tables and carpets catching fire.

But she doesn’t seem all that concerned.

Even as the voice of Threnodias cuts through the cacophony to cry out in agony. “I YIELD!”

Reaching the chamber’s western exit tunnel, I risk a whisper. “Must you follow me?”

“The rest can tend to our injured wife.” Vallishandra supplies, forcing a smile approximating friendly. “I merely thought to offer myself up as an escort.”

I almost buy it. But then I remember that her experience at courtly functions far outweighs my own. It is hard not to be a little intimidated by the much older doll dressed in black and gold. “Is that wise?”

She pretends to give it a moment’s thought, not even slowing her pace. “Threnodias would insist. Besides, it would not do to allow you to wander unfamiliar streets alone.”

I do not miss the subtext that she is volunteering to protect me. Why does it not surprise me that there are likely Lunarians just as likely to harm me as the Twelfth or Nineteenth siblings?

But then again she did just pull a blood sword out of Threnodias’s throat. I could probably do with far worse protection than someone who is capable of that.

I elect to be thankful. “I appreciate you sacrifice, Madam Vallishandra. This is hardly an easy time to be apart from your Prince.”

“He really is mine.” She says wistfully now that we’re both above ground. “It is very rare to find one of the Castellan’s brood who truly cares for those who are intended to be stilted things. If your Aelionre is anything like you claim, I suggest you hold them close.”

I blink at that. “If Threnodias doesn’t survive…”

“He’s been feeding us. Not the other way around.”

I… Don’t know what to say to that.

She seems to take satisfaction in that. “I’m the reason we’re here. We’d heard that the new Fourteenth had a particularly sudden and violent ascension in the ranks.”

I do bristle that that, prompting an amused smile.

“But we were all quite relieved to hear that they killed the previous Fourteenth for harassing you and Fia. Really darling, half of my wives came here to spirit you away from an abusive Prince. To put revenge in your hands, if desired.”

At that I come to a stop. Her friendliness starts to take on a twisted kind of sense. Is this what the older siblings and their dolls can get away with once they start ruling territories?

Both of us can hear the rattling of chains and whispered voices around the corner of the next building.

But I have something to say first. “Do you mean that?”

Her expression turns dangerous. “Is Aelinore hurting you? In private?”

I shake my head. “No. My grievance is with twelve, Madame Vallishandra. Aelinore, I mean, at the time it was Ayre and Lenore. They both… Rose from the depths at the same time. Twelve demanded one kill the other and…”

“Say no more, Selescia. I understand. Your wishes will be made known, but first, allow me to assist you with the matter at hand.” She gestures to the corner, prompting me to be the first to make my presence known.

The sound of sobbing and hushed reassurances follow a sharp rattle of chains.

Turning the corner, I find expanding pools of blood spreading from the corpses of four Lunarians. Watcher uniforms adorn all of them. Torn throats and broken limbs are the most evident wounds.

At the center of the slaughter, Amari sits, trying key after key with shaking hands as blood drips from her maw. She mutters under her breath, the next line from what I judge to be a long and panicked refrain from someone unused to violence. “I just wanted them to stop!”

“We know sis. You’re doing fine.”

Amari shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I heard everything! Even as I tried to run.”

One of the vulpine sisters in cages look up at us.

When neither Vallishandra or I seem to mean any harm or show intent to shout for help, she turns her attention back on Amari who has continued to fumble uselessly with the keys.

“Told myself I could make it stop if I just… Set you all free! Then they… Neither of them would have to fight!” Amari is inconsolable, even as the fourth key fails to open the lock. “So I ran. Useless. Cowardly prey behavior.” She stops trying the keys, her sisters attempt to still her shaking hands.

“When she needed me most, I couldn’t face her. Not after she invoked the help of her abusive goddess!”

“Hey. Amari. Listen. Shhhh shh shh. None of us for a moment believed you would give up on us.”

“You should make sure your friend is alright.”

“We’ll figure something else out, alright?”

“We’ll keep trying the keys from here.”

“You’re right. I should have stayed. Should go back, I mean.” Amari slowly turns to looks up at us, both rings of what must be twenty keys each fall from her grasp.

Behind her, something like fourteen cages remain set along the side of the street. The rest long since relocated after being unloaded from some nearby carts.

Amari hesitates meeting Vallishandra’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

The aging doll strides towards Amari, causing her to flinch away in fear.

Vallishandra produces a key. “I do believe that my most stubborn wife of a prince has guaranteed the lives and freedoms of you, your sisters, and Lady Wyrmsbane.”

Amari chokes on her reply, wide eyed and fearful of this woman who… introduced herself to me as having once been a doll.

An object.

A resource.

But she isn’t anymore, is she?

A doll is nothing like the woman of poise and confidence that I see before me now.

Never mind the changes I cannot see.

Amari takes the key.

With a click, the lock opens on the first try.

Her sisters bury her in a tearful reunion that quickly turns into physically overpowering their big sister.

Not wanting to interrupt, I find myself crouching beside one of the Watcher corpses.

No.

Not quite corpse.

This Watcher is also on the young side, wearing a red and black uniform. Bloodied claw wounds seem to have torn through the design I expect to be floral in nature. Instead I swear I can make out some manner of furred animal with an open mouth towards the sky.

“Lady Watcher, are you alright?” I ask, my voice a gentle whisper.

She spits blood, grimacing not in pain, but anger. “Nine… Was right. You’re all… Monsters.”

I back away as she tightens her grip around a spear.

But it is the last thing she does before slowly expiring, anything else she might have to say becoming incoherent.

“Wretched Howlers.” Amari growls, having extricated herself from her sisters.

“Oh.”

Something in my recognition prompts Vallishandra to raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

“One of them tried to kill Aelinore.” I explain. “I wasn’t there, but allegedly my Princess spared them. Claimed that none of them deserved to die over it.”

Amari growls again. “When I arrived, they were abusing the prisoners.”

One of her sisters tries in vain to wipe the blood from her fur. “We’re okay. Threnodias was clear that we were not to be touched.”

“That still doesn’t give them a right to demean and hurt everyone else here!” Amari snaps back. “I’m sick of this! I want to help the people here. I really do! But sometimes it feels like the only ones here with a functional moral compass are me and Astraea.” She blinks hard after the mention of Astraea’s name, her tail going rigid again.

Vallishandra turns her upturned brow at Amari this time. A moment later, an undignified kick deposits one of the discarded keyrings at Amari’s feet. She winks before turning away. “Come along, Selescia. Amari needs time to clean up before the Binding Ceremony resumes. I’m sure they’ve put out the fire by now, don’t you?”

In spite of myself, I laugh.

Today has been horrid.

I don’t even know if Astraea is still alive.

But nor does Vallishandra for Threnodias.

If I compare this to when it was just Aelionre, Fia, and I against what felt like the entire Vylian court? None of this seems all that hard to bear. I even have Lenore back in some fashion.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” I say, choosing to hope that everything will work out somehow.

“Not a single functioning moral compass between the two of us.” Vallishandra announces with a smile.

Yet here Vallishandra and I are, sharing a terrible joke.

If by some cruel twist of circumstance things with Amari and Astraea don’t work out, then I’ll just have to pin my hopes on the next plan. And then the one after that. Over and over again until we’re somewhere resembling free.

Without another word, the two of us leave Amari behind to descend once more into the depths of a tunnel network beneath Mel’Viora’s grove.