Dahlia was eight years old when she first saw a starbeast. She knew about them before, her sister had told her. She expected a monster, something that would tap into some hidden part of her soul that would make her scream and run for her mother. What she felt instead was equally terrifying. It was kinship.

It was small, not like the hulking behemoth Helen was fighting in front of her. It was just one Death, one small enough not to matter in the cosmic scale of things.

Her mother couldn’t take Dahlia’s constant crying over Mr. Marble, her pet owl. She made Dahlia promise not to do it, ever. She said she was already too far gone and she couldn’t take it if Dahlia lost herself like she did. Dahlia didn’t understand but she promised. They were sitting on the bench in their front yard. Cartha was training below, as she did every day.

Mother bled on Mr. Marble’s wounds; they were so small. Incredibly small to kill an owl almost as big as Dahlia herself. Cartha said the snake was venomous and that was what killed him. Just two small spots where his neck was punctured, snow white feathers stained crimson around them. Mother’s blood dripped on the small holes, a shade darker than what was on the feathers.

It was then that Dahlia heard the words which brought doom to her bloodline. Black smoke rose from the corpse as Death was pulled from it. Sunlight faded, not like night but a particularly gloomy dusk. Smoke swirled around until it solidified into that monstrous little body.

It had three antlers and a vulpine face, two stars stared at Dahlia unblinkingly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the thing, even when Mr. Marble fluttered off. The owl was alive as the day Dahlia met him. Every little ounce of Death was drained out its body and given form of its own. A body made of black and white smoke that looked like it was in a constant state of motion.

The creature cocked its head at Dahlia. A creature of darkness made from her pet’s Death and a piece of her mother’s sanity. It smelled familiar, like the scent of home on a lazy afternoon. She didn’t fear the beast, felt no killing intent from it. For a minute she found herself wondering how all the things she read about the starbeasts could get such a peaceful creature so wrong.

Then her father appeared at the hovel’s doorstep and the entire atmosphere changed. The creature screeched and lunged like a comet. Its antlers were sharpened, almost knife-like, and two elongated claws extended from its front. She understood that moment, the monster was going to kill her father. It presented no threat to her, neither her mother who sat next to her with an empty expression.

With a loud crack, something crashed into the starbeast’s side. The airborne body missed her father by mere inches, a stone-hilted dagger dangling from its side. Cartha rushed to finish it off. It was the first time Dahlia saw her sister angry, not disappointed or sad or frustrated, but properly enraged.

The days that followed were the first of many painful periods in Dahlia’s life. Her mother struggled to even dress herself. She looked at her own daughters as if they were strangers, snapped at them as though they were her enemies. There were some good days mixed in there where she would wake up fully recovered. Those days she danced among the flowers in their yard. She reminded Dahlia of fairies she saw in storybooks.

Dahlia didn’t understand much back then. She blamed herself for her mother’s condition. It was her fault Mr. Marble got injured in the first place after all. Her mother also seemed angry at her on the bad days. She would call her the flower that poisoned her life. Cartha was the only thing that brough her life stability.

Her sister never really forgave their mother. Every time their mother failed to resist using her blood magic, the rift between them grew ever wider.

A sharp pain brought Dahlia’ back to the present as Helen slapped her across the face. She was kneeling in front of her, her legs shaking with pain and exertion. She was pointing Dahlia’s own sword right at her chest, pure killing intent glowed in her eyes.

“Save them.” She snapped, her voice was coarse from breathing in blood and smoke.

“I-I can’t.” Dahlia whispered. The promise she made her mother ten years ago loomed over her head, strengthened by the smell of wolfsbane and nightshade.

Helen grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet.

“Look at them!” she shouted, her voice rising over the roaring flames and screams of battle that rose from the city beneath. “Those are children! They are dying. You can save them, you save them!”

Oh how simple she worded it. ‘Here, Dahlia, why don’t you just pull Death from the fatal wounds of these hundred something children. Surely the cost and consequence of such large magic would not be catastrophic.’

She pushed her cousin away, causing her to rip a handful of black and white tangle from her head. “It is not that simple!” she screamed, trying her best not to look at the mounds of flesh around them. The children bled and moaned.

Helen punched Dahlia in the gut with a fist full of hair. “You have a chance to make your worthless life mean something.” She grabbed Dahlia’s collar and pressed the blade so hard to her neck, it drew a drop of blood. “Every one of these kids are worth a thousand of your cursed self.”

Dahlia was prepared to fight her and die right there, she gritted her teeth and her nails cut into her palms. Helen pushed her face down, forcing her to see the faces of near-corpses that littered the granite floor.

Dahlia’s heart sunk at the sight. All of them were so young, so full of pain. Among the bloodied faces, one stood out to Dahlia. Round eyes, warm greenish blue like the summer, stared right into Dahlia’s suddenly grief-struck soul. Pretty locks of cherry-blonde hair framed a puffy face.

“The words.” Helen pressed her head into the blade a little harder. “Be useful for once in your life. I don’t care if it kills you. If it doesn’t, I will anyway. Say. The. Words.”

Dahlia felt something between anger and guilt rise in her stomach. Before she could think, her forehead crashed into Helen’s nose. She lost another fistful of hair and a good deal of skin off her neck in the process.

“You don’t know!” Dahlia shouted. She punched her cousin with all the strength that remained in her body. She didn’t know, how could she? She wasn’t there to see Dahlia’s mother slip through the cracks inch by inch, fading a little each time she used the ‘gift’ their ancestors had deemed to bestow upon her.

Pop; a jolt of pain traveled up her left arm as her knuckles connected with Helen’s jaw. Pain was good. Pain pushed away the image of her mother dying on her bed, begging Dahlia not to interfere with the natural order of things. Pain was simple, unlike measuring one’s own life against those of a hundred others.

Helen didn’t strike back. The sword clattered as she let it fall on the floor beside her. “You are right.” She whispered, catching a third punch midway before it could connect with her temple. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. There is one thing I know and it’s this: Your godsdamned mother deemed your life important enough to sacrifice my whole family for. You are alive today because your mother sacrificed mine to save your pitiful life, and you will make sure I don’t make that sacrifice meaningless this very moment.”

It wasn’t the anger dripping from her voice that gave Dahlia a pause, neither was it the naked boiling hatred. It was the underlying sadness that accompanied those. For one twisted moment standing among the blood and gore in that hall, Dahlia felt a strange kinship to her cousin, a soft feeling that cracked the hard exterior she was barely holding on to.

She sank to her knees, tears forming rivers on her cheeks. Her shoulders were limp as she pulled a broken piece of stone from the floor.

“All the starbeasts on the spire will be pulled here as if a beacon were lit. Be prepared to protect them.” she said. Dahlia pulled the jagged edge of the stone across one arm, then the other, opening two long cuts that immediately started to gush out blood.

“Ancestors bless this blood that runs in my veins.” She whispered the chant she heard her mother repeat countless times before. “Let my heart a wellspring that shuns the end away.”

She felt her blood drain out from the cuts on her arms. It swirled around her body waiting for her to command it. The smell of fresh flowers blanketed the blood and gore. Dahlia could feel all of it. A pretty tangle of pain that rose from everyone who lay wounded around her. The disturbing sight was replaced with a beautiful colorscape, vibrant blues and greens and yellows, likes of which Dahlia had never seen.

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It was pure, unbridled ecstasy. The way power flowed through her veins, Dahlia felt like she was part of a perfect whole. The world made sense to her. She felt tears form at the corners of her eyes.

Although it was the first time Dahlia used her blood gift, her heart knew what to do. This was the reason for her existance, she understood that now. She couldn’t see bodies anymore, but she could hear Death dance around their wounds like a stray melody. It just needed her guidance to create harmony.

She slowly started tugging at one of them. Death dutifully obeyed her command. A small black liquid gem appeared in her world of bright colors. She felt like she could paint a world with it. She had no hands, nor a body. She was everything and nothing. When she pulled at the threads of Death, she pulled with her entire being. When she shaped it, she merely imagined the shape and her soul sang it into reality.

Dahlia called to another string, and a second black swirl joined the first. It was a little bigger than the first, its melody a little bit deeper. Dahlia had them dance together for a bit and then join, as one harmonious sound.

The more she stayed in that state, the more confident she became. She pulled at the threads of Death faster and faster. She weaved them into the most beautiful piece of art her limited mortal mind could conceive, and it was divine.

When there were no more threads to tug at, she fell back into her body satisfied. Two pairs of blue eyes stared at her, unblinking.

One pair belonged to the newly formed starbeast, Death pulled from dozens of mortal wounds, swirled around its gargantuan body. It wasn’t hostile, although it certainly emitted an aura of danger. It was easily five times bigger than the creature Helen fought. A single horn protruded from its forehead, jagged and wicked looking. Two rows of sharp teeth resembling large iron nails decorated its large mouth. Its arms were long, almost twice as long as its legs, giving it a gorilla-like stance.

The second pair of eyes staring at Dahlia with dread, belonged to her cousin. She was white as chalk, like she just saw a ghost. Dahlia wondered what it might be that could shake the great Helen LaRue like that. She was gripping Dahlia’s sword so hard her hands were shaking.

Dahlia’s spine shivered as she felt like the temperature dropped drastically in seconds. One by one, the rest of the starbeasts that plagued the spire arrived at the summit. All had drastically different bodies. Some had wings, most had some sort of horns or antlers, all of them had black and white smoke-like skin and lightning blue, unblinking eyes.

Those eyes now screamed a soundless oath of service to Dahlia. For the first time in her life Dahlia felt powerful. The colorscape was gone but the world was still brighter than it had ever been before. She felt a knot in her chest, similar to the threads of death she had pulled before, but stronger.

With a thud, three dragons landed on the walls of the cathedral. Skybreaker jumped down from the saddle of his growling gold dragon. His bloodshot eyes were full of questions as he regarded the bizarre scenery in front of him.

Dahlia was surprised she even noticed. She wasn’t even looking at Skybreaker’s direction. It was as if her awareness was heightened. She was blissfully aware of every single heartbeat in the hall. The small portion of candidates that had somewhat recovered were in a state of unbelievable panic. Their heartbeats were like drums in Dahlia’s ears.

The starbeasts that had gathered around the cathedral stood motionless, seemingly oblivious to the dragons that kept snarling at them.

Dahlia reached and tugged at the knot inside her chest. It unraveled like a waterfall, waves of power washed over her limbs.

When she tried to speak, the first thing that came out was a scream. The stained-glass windows that decorated the walls of the cathedral shattered outward. She had to reel in the power. She tried again with a whisper, which came out as a rumbling echo. The cathedral shook on its stone foundations.

“Go away.” she ordered. The power that left her body, quaked through the air and reached the gathered starbeasts. It was almost instantaneous how they reacted. They scattered like specks of dust, disappearing into smoke as a portion of sunlight returned to the sky.

Only one remained. The largest one, twisted horn and teeth like nails, the starbeast created from Dahlia’s own blood shook as it resisted the command.

“Go… away!” Dahlia shouted with as much force as she dared. The sudden pressure pushed the bodies littered around the floor against the walls. The starbeast yet remained, its huge figure knelt to the ground with its monstrous arms bent. Against all her better judgement, Dahlia took a step forward towards the monster, her monster. She half screamed half pleaded with all the force that remained in her veins. “GO AWAY!”

The pressure laid the monster flat on the floor, its skin sizzled as it screamed in pain. Smoke rose from the floor and its eyes disappeared. The creature melted into the granite floor and in less than a second it was as if it was never there. Power left Dahlia’s body. As it did, an excruciating headache cracked in her skull. She would have collapsed if Skybreaker wasn’t there to catch her.

“How...?” he asked slowly as he lowered her to the ground gently.

Cheerful laughter came from above. “Lovemaker’s tight ass, that was good.” The red dragon’s rider said, jumping down from where her dragon stood perched. Her accent was heavy, words flowed into each other a little too fast for Dahlia to completely understand her. A lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her crooked smile. “How in the hells did you manage that now, eh little girlie?”

“Not now, Faelix.” Skybreaker snapped, clearly annoyed at the other rider.

The one called Faelix gave an ironic salute as she twirled around. She seemed like she already lost interest. “Aye aye cap’n.” she said over her shoulder.

“How?” Skybreaker asked again, this time more authoritative.

“I-I don’t know.” Dahlia stuttered. It felt like her bones were stretching inside her, as if something was grinding them against each other.

Slithering like an oversized snake, the green dragon lowered its huge head near them, and its rider jumped off the saddle without any flourish. His face was a mask of indifference. He simply walked up to Skybreaker, ignoring an inaudible comment from the red’s rider. He didn’t acknowledge Dahlia or Helen’s existence as he bent to whisper something into Skybreaker’s ear, who was still kneeling in front of Dahlia.

“Right.” Skybreaker said, the green’s rider turned and disappeared down a staircase hidden in one of the crevices behind the altar. He shot glances at Dahlia, as if calculating something. His voice was low and mechanical as he got back up. “Seventh Spire was attacked by a pack of starbeasts. Attack has been thwarted. We need to take care of the injured and make sure no starbeasts remain on the spire. Lieutenant Faelix will head the rescue efforts in the citadel, there are still people trapped under rubble down there. Recruit Helen will shadow her and help organize the local militia. The ceremony was prematurely concluded. Let it be recorded.”

“So recorded.” Faelix purred from behind. Dahlia realized she was taking notes on a small leather notebook. She ripped a page out. She whispered in a language Dahlia did not recognize and the page went up in flames. “I will holler when I get a response cap’n. Come on rook, chop chop.” She clapped her hands and started towards the bronze gates. Her dragon launched herself from where it was perched above and followed its rider.

“Can I go home?” Dahlia asked. Every motion made her feel like her teeth were made of sand. Her tongue hurt with every sound she made, as if cut into pieces.

“For now.” Skybreaker said. She realized he had not taken his eyes off her for a second since he arrived in the hall. “After I am done dealing with the aftermath, I’ll visit you for a talk. Try not to disappear.”

Gone was the bright heroic figure from the ceremony. The person who stood above her now was a military commander, cold and calculated. She turned and left before she could lose her composure under his accusative gaze.

She had to stop who knows how many times on her way down. She rushed out of the ruined streets of the citadel first. The death toll was impossible to grasp. Entire blocks were reduced to rubble. Dahlia didn’t force herself to feel bad. She was too tired, too much in pain. When she arrived at the crack where the hovel stood, it was getting dark. It was the comforting darkness of a starry night. Not the unnatural darkness that the starbeasts brought with them.

She heard the violin playing even before she saw her. It brought back memories. Cartha’s army coat and uniform were resting carefully folded next to her on their bench. She was wearing her own clothes now, a black turtleneck crop top and practical dark brown pants. Her weapons rested on the floor and in her hands she held their mother’s violin. It was the only thing she brought with her from her childhood home. A reminder of their noble lineage.

Cartha played a lullaby, a traditional Seventh Spire melody. It was an ode to the founders of its citadel. When they were children, their mother would play it for them, and Cartha would make up a scathing alternative to its lyrics.

Dahlia sighed. She just wanted to be done with this gods forsaken day already. “Go away, Cartha.” she said.

Her sister stopped playing and turned to her with a large smile on her face. “There you are sister, have you decided if you would like to join me?” Her voice danced to the melody she had just stopped playing.

Dahlia tried to resist the urge to sink deeper into this mess, trying to focus on the creaking of her bones or the buzzing in her skull. “What did you do?” she asked. Her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Whatever do you mean, little flower?” Cartha said. She slowly and carefully put the violin down in its case.

“Starbeasts.” Dahlia snapped. Her head began to clear as anger and hurt started to overcome the effects of her blood magic. “They can’t attack spires, unless something big happens. The last time something like this happened it was mother, so I will ask you one more time.” She drew her sword. “What did you do?”

Cartha slowly closed the violin case and pressed its locks in place. Then she rolled her shoulders and leaned against the stone tree, her arms crossed. “Why do you even care?” she shrugged. “People up there, they never cared about us. They would shame us into living as outcast because they do not understand our power.” She took a step forward, her eyes glinting like she was telling her of a new tea recipe she discovered. “I found our people little flower, oh you are going to love-”

“Don’t call me that.” She lunged blade first. “You don’t get to call me that.” Tears blurred her vision as Cartha lazily slapped the blade aside.

“I am not going to fight you, sister dear.” She twirled around Dahlia as momentum carried the younger sister to the floor. She looked down with disappointment on her face. “But I can wait until you are ready.”

She picked up her weapons and uniform from the bench and walked away. Dahlia stared as her sore muscles resisted her command to get up. Cartha kept whispering the melody of the same lullaby as she disappeared the path that led to the docks.