–Sintra Town Hall–

Watch Captain Jenkins, the perpetually irreverent potty mouth, was sweating bullets. He looked from Phaedra to the orb in her hands, and then back again.

“Do I have a dick in my ear?”

Phaedra gave him a closed mouth smile, careful to keep her fangs sheathed, “My sisters have annexed the Kheressh wastess.” She repeated.

“I heard that part, but there were two pieces of bread on that shit sandwich!” Exclaimed Jenkins, leaning against his desk for support.

“Oh, right, there iss a third Lightning Lord, Medusa called him Hecate incarnate, Sson of Hadess and ally of Taloc.”

Ass found chair as Jenkins collapsed into his seat, going limp at the thought of a third Lightning Lord. They were supposed to be beings of fairy tales, or epic legends, appearing only to serve Taloc’s will, and only popping up every few centuries! Three in as many years heralded humanity’s doom. Which, really shouldn’t have been surprising considering Pandora, Goddess of humanity’s evil, had appeared only a few years ago. Still, a third Lightning Lord…

Lord Liam Green had died to slay Pandora’s physical manifestation, what could possibly require two Lightning Lords to kill?

“Phaedra, increase the active reserves, double the patrols if possible. A Lightning Lord, even an allied one, means all hell is about to break loose. Every panty in the city is about to leap off the washline. We’ll need to stiffen up the palisades. Again! Then recount all the grain storage, check the lighthouses daily–”

A clawed hand stroked his cheek, silencing the start of his ramblings.

“Jenkinss.” Began Phaedra, her hands slipping to his shoulders, “The wallss have been fortified, food sstoress are checked daily, and recounted monthly. All lighthoussess are sserviced thrisse daily. Once to water, once to weed, and once by ssoldierss.” She whispered, massaging his shoulders.

“Ah, right you are… Guess we’ve already plowed that field. I- ahem, thank you Phaedra. Still… I’ll never forget Liam’s battle against Pandora, I thought the world was ending! And we were almost a day’s march away from the fight. Arlet won’t even speak of the demonic dragon. But I’ll never forget the glimpse of her wings. By Taloc, she was enormous, how he even killed her was beyond my understanding…” He said, shuddering involuntarily and pressing himself into Phaedra’s coils.

She held him tightly, reassuring him with the strength of an elder gorgon.

“Medusa iss far more ancient than I. If sshe ssayss the Lightning Lord is our ally, then Pandora will find one of Taloc’s chossen championss laying in wait, ready to sstrike, jusst as Liam did. May he resst in peace.” Said Phaedra.

They remained entangled for several long moments, simply basking in the comfort of each other’s touch. A peaceful moment of shared silence, one they reveled in.

Without a word the door was flung open, kicked inward by a teen eclipsiarch in a fitted tan dress. Colored to match her lighter fur color.

“Uncle Jenkins! We have roast wyvern!” Exclaimed Nora, her eyes beaming as she carried a tray of meat into the room.

To all observers, the meat was pale in color, with two comically oversized thighs, looking to their eyes like the most oversized chickenzilla of recorded history.

“Golden hell-poodles and well seasoned wyverns. Next I'll be playing chess with the griffon, asking him about his chicks.” Muttered Jenkins.

Phaedra and Nora both raised an eyebrow at that, Jenkins wouldn’t be caught dead playing chess, checkers was far more his style, but only if the pieces had been lewded in some manner. The closest to chess he’d get was stealing the queens out of a dozen sets to play ‘checkers with the ladies’.

“Uncle Jenkins, it would be checkers, and only if you could get the birdbrain to stop eating our horses! It got another two today.”

“I’m surprised we’ve got any left, come spring we’ll have to plow the fields with our cocks instead of steeds.”

—

—The Obsidian fortress of Mont St Michel—

A yellow dawn illuminated the world, causing the grand walls of Mont St Michel to gleam like flames. Wind Catpian Niana stood atop the brass gate of fire, watching the coming and goings of the monsters below. Most seemed to ignore the gates, opting to lick the obsidian walls of her city. Why they performed such a strange action was unknowable, and ultimately futile. Saliva would do nothing to a fortress made of Pandora’s bones, but a convoy of kindred felinids were scheduled to arrive in the next few days. So it was time to trim the grass. Or rather, to make it grow tall with the blood of her enemies.

She turned towards Pascal, an aged member of the Greenhaven militia who’d lost everything, home, family, friends, and nearly his own life, since the portals had begun.

“Open the gate.” She ordered, stepping atop the battlements in her dress of white and blue.

“Yes maam.” Answered Pascal, shouting orders to the gatekeepers.

Colors blurred around Niana as wind magic engulfed her body, vanishing her from sight. A blue dart launched from her hand to the waiting hulks below, giving her ‘friends’ their breakfast orders.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The brass doors opened inward without a sound, a common occurrence for the arcane gates. In fact, it was so common that Niana had come to count on the gate’s fidelity. For they would never divulge any warning of attack, a trait she found highly purr-ferable. ‘Dot’ the matriarch of Mont St Michel’s insectoid hulks led the feeding frenzy, jogging out of the brass gates and shearing a hellhound in half with a single CHOMP. Blood fountained around her and she tossed the halves aside, feeding the hulks behind her.

Niana leapt from the obsidian wall, using wind pressure to float gently through the air. Her dress flowed in the wind, complimenting her dark hair as she alighted upon Dot’s shoulders. A dozen hellhounds didn’t even bother to stop licking the walls, continuing their tongueing despite their dying kin.

It stung to be ignored,

to be treated as if you were nothing,

no threat,

no danger.

So Niana slew them with joy in her eyes. It was easy, empowered by the blade of her dead father, Niana swung Fang, sending a wind blade slashing through six necks, turning hellhounds into a warm breakfast for Dot’s mates and children. Who exited the gate of fire by the dozen.

Dot advanced, for she knew her role and played it well. She was Niana’s steed and protector, and Niana her purrma donna. The provider of her sustenance and watcher of her brood. A partnership that Dot prayed would outlive herself. So she advanced, nibbling on the choicest bits of hellhound as they circled the city. Wind blades flew with unerring accuracy, striking with all the speed of lightning, not that they needed to, for the creatures offered no resistance, but because Niana was training for the day when an enemy stood against her, be it man or monster. Ahead of her a creature loomed, a spear-stick-scythe bug, with spears for limbs and scythes for hands. Dot crushed it to goo with a single blow. While her mate tore into one of the ‘deinonychus’ lizards, biting through its neck and chowing down.

Niana leapt into the air, hacking through wasps larger than herself as she ran along the wall, using wind mana to lighten her steps and combat the effects of gravity. None of the insects moved, not even when their kin fell dead at their feet, or when their neighbor’s blood splattered across their hides. A mindless devotion that irritated Niana. But she never took it for granted, always assuming the enemy would dodge or duck. For Liam had taught her to be thorough, sneaky, and to never underestimate a defeated enemy.

Dot found a plump Auroux and pounded the ground twice. Her own way of asking permission. Niana sent a wind blade into the nearest creature, a half buried scorpion that had burrowed to the wall and was licking it above ground, despite being largely buried. The wind blade slashed off it’s face and severed the cranium, causing the monster to spasm and retreat underground to die.

“Go ahead Dot.” Called Niana, propelling herself atop the walls and pausing there. Blue light engulfed her hand darting from each finger to issue orders to the swarm of advancing hulks.

While Niana could slay all the monsters herself, she guided the most intelligent hulks forward, granting them the killing blow. Mont St Michel wasn’t just her home, it was all of their homes, and making sure each of them felt the responsibility of protecting it was a lesson she had taken from Liam’s final letters. He’d wielded the power to slay Pandora, yet had made sure every man of Greenwood played a part in her battle, from the mercenaries of Sintra, to the slaves of Blackwood, and even the proud knights of Greenhaven; they’d all fought, bled, and killed for their homes and families.

–And now the hulks would too.

It took the voracious half-beetle hulks three hours to kill and devour every creature outside the walls, but they swept the walls a second time, keeping one compound eye aimed at the forests beyond. Where creatures slunk from shadow to shade, hiding behind the shrubberies to avoid the slaughter, yet too tantalized by the acrid scent of blood to flee.

Niana prodded them with her magic, just as she’d once prodded Dot. The hope was that creatures intelligent enough to avoid a fight could be reasoned with, like the gorgons, or the hulks. For a life spared, was often an ally saved.

Another one of Liam’s lessons.

But today, none answered her call. All the creeping creatures fled, for there were no gorgons, nor any of the curiously intelligent three eyed cats. Niana had yet to tame one of them, and hoped to tame all of them. Their paralyzing eye would be tremendously valuable against lone monsters, and they looked so cute! Like a little umbraquin you could curl up next to.

Near the gate of earth one presence hesitated. Not fleeing after the first pulse of wind, yet it felt like bitter oil mixed with the scent of rotting flesh on the breath of a sibling. Like when Matimeo had tried to feed her dried anchovies. She’d eaten them, and found their bones delightfully crunchy, but the stench of them had clung to her hair for weeks! Oily, and effervescent in the disgusting way. Niana summoned a blue orb of wind to her hand, there she whispered an open invitation, ‘come say hello’ before tossing it into the woods. Alongside the orb she sent thoughts of a warm home and friends who would watch over your sleeping form. Those who tucked you in during a cold winter’s night.

The orb floated over the shrubs and through the trees, coming to whisper its message into the ears of a lurker. Yet before it’s meowssage of friendship could be uttered five claws caught the orb, crushing it with inhuman strength.

Mana exploded in a microtempest.

Leaves blasted away from the epicenter, and Niana saw the beast’s true form in silhouette. It was tall, with a staff of gnarled wood in one hand, and great antlers upon its head. The torso was gaunt, yet covered in a robe or cloak, concealing the face. Or it would have, if the figure had been human. But the face was that of a cervid’s skull, exposed bone protruding from the cloak, an upper and lower jaw with ivory fangs stained with red.

It stepped forward, towards her. The scent of blood hit Niana’s nose, and she knew instantly it was the scent of human blood that emanated from the creature. Her tail stood on end, ears flicked backwards, and her fangs revealed themselves. An intelligent creature that preyed on humans could not be an ally. Her hand grasped the hilt of Quetzalcoatl’s Fang, the blade of power left behind by her father’s sacrifice. The creature’s eyes blazed into life, twin pinpricks of mournful fire. Then it turned, sprinting into the woods behind it on three overlong limbs, holding the staff like a spear, tucked and aimed forward as it navigated away from the catpian. Even after it fled, Niana cut her patrol short, returning to the safety of her walls, for in their brief exchange she had felt the creature’s mana. It had been like pressing the tip of her claw into a lake beyond her comprehension, as if the being had survived on nothing but malice and mana for ten thousand years, slaking it’s thirst on the blood of mortals. She wanted to vomit at the thought, but endured.

Not now, don’t puke now. Thought Niana, confused as to why the being had fled.

Against such a monster she had no chance, if they’d fought a hundred battles, –with the hulks to aid her– she would have lost a hundred times. This being was beyond her, she would need to call for aid, to warn the city, redouble their guards. Its name came to her through the reports of haunted caravans and squads of soldiers who’d encountered its charnel fields, where dozens of humans had been torn apart.

Wendigo

The cursed devourer of men had come to Mont St Michel.