Things had been going entirely too smoothly.

It was many days since they departed the Bloodsucking forest, and in that time the Naga had moved deep into the Cyclopean Bones, plunging through wooded mountain valleys and narrow passes without resistance, like a knife penetrating defenseless, soft flesh.

As they wound between more densely inhabited areas they still met with no resistance, and despite their thousands of mouths to feed the land was yielding ample sustenance.

Even their captives were eating better than Qamar ever had as a hatching.

It was as though the mountains were empty of people, a wilderness yearning for hands to come and receive its bounty.

Qamar’s scales tingled at the realization of how easy it had been.

Too easy.

Well now they knew why.

“This is truly Nefer?”

Qamar had never been so far into Harpy lands themself, but Nefer had seen fighting in past generations, and in the unstable, bloody peace which followed their people had traded with the town too.

Now the once thriving town was an awful sight. A burned out ruin, scorched terrain pock-marked by deep gouges and pits like sinkholes.

Of bodies there were none, itself strange given the devastation, yet nor was there any sign of people returning, starting to rebuild or salvage. Nor had the scouts picked up any traces of people on the hillsides and in the valleys around.

It was as though the ground has split itself open to swallow and consume them.

“A most curious incident,” Pyreza observed, from among the small cluster of courtiers gathered. “One which serves aptly to explain our otherwise mystifying lack of detection. Yet surely the destruction of the town raises more questions than it settles.”

“Was this recent?” asked another.

“Yes, my lord,” spoke the captain, returned with her report. “Ash from the fires still clings to the timbers.”

“Yet no Valkyries fly the skies,” Qamar said. “This… was not a freak accident or surprise attack from a weaker foe. Something – someone – struck here with overwhelming force, yet the Harpies dare not attempt to retake the region.”

General Isma nodded. “This also explains the lack of patrols these past days. But what possible foe could do this?”

“His Excellency may yet furnish us some understanding of the matter,” Pyreza mused, head bobbing thoughtfully. “He has taken himself into seclusion to seek answers from the gods.”

“His god, you mean,” Isma answered, under her breath.

“But there is no difference, good general. The divine patron of the Sultan of Scales is the rightful god of all Naga.”

Qamar wondered if the old snake really believed that. Pyreza had never once struck them as a pious man. Most naga weren’t, after the destruction of the sacred groves, so long ago. When their gods had watched in silence as the blood of the priests watered the ancient lihyallow trees.

Those who still kept faith did so without guidance from others. Some prayed to Soleil, for warm sun that would grow fine crops. Others to Nemoi for rain and calm skies, or to the great Urither for fertile soils. Some even followed the pantheon of the beastfolk, or other, strange and lesser-known divinities.

None were devotees of the Cult, however.

Not until Adivan – until the Sultan – had the divine revelation which had so deeply affected him.

Perhaps another vision would come now, to guide them in these strange and dangerous times, but Qamar had never well trusted the mysterious yet powerful forces which were the gods.

They would not wish to follow any god who called for bloodshed in lieu of peace.

Such a divinity would be little different from the loathsome ‘nobility’ of the humans or harpies.

~~~

Coiled atop a temporary throne, hewn from the rock of the hillside, the Sultan loomed over his closest servants in the dark of his tent.

“My Sultan,” Pyreza murmured.

The old vizier bowed his faded hood of scales, the dusty pink turned an indulgent magenta in the candle-light.

Around him the other naga matched the gesture.

The figure rumbled as he cleared his throat, then spoke.

“Divine revelation has visited me.”

Silence met the proclamation, all present waiting to hear what came next.

The Sultan’s hesitation was entirely unlike the assured, dangerously confident man Qamar knew, but no-one would dare hurry him.

Few could appreciate the great toll which prophecy took on the servants of the Gods.

The Sultan had spoken of it to them only once, and Qamar could still see his face amid the smoke, as he told of the terrible strain… the pain of so much knowledge and emotion, all forced at once into his thoughts, his consciousness fighting just to hold together, let alone to make sense of the flood of arcane and vast thoughts beyond his knowing, or the deep and complex emotions and wants of a being so far outside of all that he could ever know.

Touching the mind of the divine had killed lesser beings.

Even the mightiest of mortals could not speak to their God. They could only accept what visions came to them, and devote themselves to the deciphering of those metaphorical, enigmatic fragments of memory and knowledge.

“I saw peaks rising high over waters of green, waves amid endless ocean.”

The Sultan’s face was grave, eyes unfocused, staring off into the depths of the purple smoke that hung in thick layers on the air.

“High over those mountainous seas shone the burning sun and the gleaming moons, amid an endless field of stars. As I watched, the peaks below rose up, crumbling and breaking, rushing apart as water, as the very body of the world was torn and split. From that terrible wound came something colossal, a living form breaking through golden chains, crushing whole forests like brittle, dead leaves with its very breath.”

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Qamar could barely imagine it. The scale was too absurd.

“From the depths it arose, jaws longer than even the Spine of the mountains, and with its foul, calamitous fangs it tore into the very heavens. It devoured sun and stars, and shattered moons with the mere pressure of its hateful gaze.”

In the silence that followed, only Qamar saw how the tip of the Sultan’s tail was curling as he spoke. Only Qamar knew that secret sign of his childhood friend’s deep anxiety.

“A hundred pardons, my Sultan,” Pyreza muttered, bowing lower, “but could your majesty enlighten we mere blind serpents, as to the meaning of this divine revelation?”

“There can only be one understanding. A great and terrible leviathan devouring the sky above… after wreaking such havoc upon the forests and mountains below…. The fell thing which attacked the Stormqueen could not be contained. It may only have been the first, of some terrible enemy from the depth of Old Dweomer. Soon they will bring ruin to all harpies, and destroy their rule forever.”

“Your wisdom is remarkable, my Sultan.”

General Isma gave a low hiss.

“If the harpies are truly attacked by some great and terrible foe, able to strike at the heart of their empire… that would explain what we’ve observed.”

Qamar coughed softly.

“There is… no other meaning you could perceive… my Sultan?”

“What other meaning could there be?”

They wished that the Sultan had looked as certain as he made his voice sound.

~~~

Out in the open, on the hill above the ruined town, they held their war meeting.

Hundreds of naga courtiers and warriors bowed low as the Sultan took his place overlooking his people.

A moment behind, the small circle of humans did the same.

Lady Ondora and her captains were armed and armored, without any guard placed to restrain them, but none present feared any attempt on the life of the Sultan.

Solemn oaths have been taken, to many gods and in the names of ancestors and noble houses, but Qamar set no store in such things.

What mattered was that her defiance had died with her lieutenant, on the night of the battle.

In contrast to the other surviving ‘leader’ of the invaders, who still marched each day in cuffs, ever on the verge of collapse and breakdown, she had accepted enslavement over death, for herself and her band. Rather than rail against them, or wallow in self-pity, she was fighting in her own way, to keep herself and as many of her own alive as possible, and see them released to return home.

Repulsive as the human noble’s personality might otherwise appear, Qamar admired her for that.

As a result, while she was watched, she had few restrictions placed upon her.

Deep in the Cyclopean Bones, there was no-where she could go, and nothing she could do that wouldn’t bring down swift and brutal vengeance from her captors.

Of course, she wasn’t so free as to dare speak in the Sultan’s presence, even as he outlined the plans for how she and her human knights would lead the assault on the very slopes of the Eyrie.

Qamar wondered if she understood how few could hope to return from such a battle, against the core of the Valkyries, the most fearsome military power in all the Empire.

She must have some understanding – even the mightiest human nations did no attempt to invade the Cyclopean Bones – yet that made them respect her all the more.

Her ‘Lastborn’ would fulfill their oath, and redeem themselves in their war service.

In return, those who lived were to go free, escorted back to Bellwood.

They would bring a message to the rest of their kind.

The news of the ascension of a new power to reign over all the mountains and forests.

A warning of the fate which would befall any who dared trespass on the lands of the Sultan.

~~~

“This is a problem.”

Thalia’s tail was curling with irritation; the frustrated tension of a warrior primed for battle, but with no enemy to strike. She was prowling in the ruddy gold of the evening sun, as it washed across one of the many small balconies which studded the palace, sized for the passage of smallfolk servants.

“We know she met no-one before court convened. You’re sure she didn’t linger afterwards?”

Though her tail was controlled, Karlya’s feathers were bristling as the one-eyed Valkyrie scrutinized the dim orbs of Diantha.

The smaller woman frowned.

“It can’t have been for long, but at this distance I can only be certain of her trail – we’d have to enter the chambers to know more.”

“No hope of that,” Chione said glumly.

It was one thing for a handmaiden or vassal of a noble courtier to enter with her mistress… but to go alone, or with a gaggle of other miscellaneous smallfolk, would never be permitted. The Valkyries at the entrances would turn them back at once. Then question exactly why Witch Laureate Shukra, vassal Diantha, handmaidens Agytha and Chione, and Valkyries Thalia and Karlya were even together in the first place.

“Are we certain Eph conveyed the message?” Diantha asked.

Chione gave an emphatic nod. “Totally, Hibis heard it, said she did great, totally natural.”

Agytha stared at the shrinking figures of Lady Tiye and her entourage, crossing the Great Basin, towards the temple perched atop and dug into the tip of one of the great towers of natural rock which crowned the mountain and gave it a name.

They didn’t fly after her directly – instead Diantha kept track of the noblewoman, while their group blended into the general aerial movement. The sky over the streets and dwellings of the Basin were busy, full of people returning from work or heading to the temple, so they went largely ignored.

Agytha felt terrible exposed all the same.

They were just a few dots among many, but if anyone actually waylaid them then it would draw far too much attention to see so unlikely a group going to the temple together.

Yet they were forced to take the risk. If they couldn’t find some further trace of the conspirators or their schemes then they would lose their chance to stop them – and this plan of Chione’s was the only one they had.

Alighting on one of the many natural ledges blow the temple itself, they regrouped to plan their next move.

Agytha wished she knew what that should actually be.

“Could it be that Tiye isn’t actually in on the conspiracy?” Thalia asked.

“They’d never trust her vassals with protecting their secret in that case,” Diantha reminded her. “There have been more disappearances too, and they’re starting to clear workers away from more areas. Whatever they’re doing down in the tunnels with the Ogres’ magic… it’s almost ready.”

Karlya gave an unhappy grunt. “Have we any id-”

“Don’t know,” Shukra said, sounding even more displeased.

Agytha could understand the witch’s discomfort – she wasn’t accustomed to magical questions she couldn’t answer, even after spending so many hours with her books.

Apparently, few harpies had ever troubled themselves to study or record the inner workings of the ritual magic of ogres.

“Well then,” Thalia said, “could the handmaiden have just not told Tiye? Or could Tiye have sent a messenger instead of going to a meeting in person?”

She was greeted by dubious looks, but the lack of results from their afternoon of tailing the highborn harpy had shaken their previous assumptions.

Agytha cleared her throat, setting aside her own doubts.

“For now we just need to continue the plan. Shukra and Karlya will draw attention in the temple, especially given your impiety-”

The Witch Laureate took the reproach more like a compliment, while the Valkyrie just nodded.

“The rest of us will go in, but split up. No-one associated even remotely with Ventora’s faction can be allowed to suspect we’re acting as a group.”

~~~

Naturally the interior of the temple was a holy place.

The wondrous sculptures were like clouds and smoke, stone blown into fine and delicate shapes that evoked each of the great gods, and at the center was the figure of the Divine Sky herself, in mating dance with her consort, the great Roc.

The sight of her creator, towering over her, weighed heavy on Agytha that night, as the priestess, Nemoi’s chief servant on Arcadia, led the mass in prayer to her.

It was hard to imagine that she would understand what Agytha was doing.

“We give thanks this night, as every night, to the Divine Sky,” Thessaly intoned.

It had begun with the goal of thwarting the treasonous schemes of Lady Ventora and her conspirators, yet the movement grew. From a few scared and confused handmaidens in the bowels of the palace, it had expanded across the Eyrie and on, throughout the Cyclopean Bones.

“She who, in her boundless wisdom and kindness, brought we, her progeny, into being.”

Agytha had been praised, congratulated and admired for her efforts there, in bringing so many together in secrecy and common cause, yet she had never meant to create something so vast or potent. All Agytha had truly done was set flame to dry needlegrass.

“She who foretells all, and guides us inexorably yet kindly towards the monumental fate laid out for we Daughters of Nemoi!”

It frightened her how easily the blaze had spread. What had once seemed a monolithic, implacable civilization, millennia old and impossible for a few mere smallfolk to change, now felt dangerously chaotic and unstable.

“Mighty and noble as we people of winds and sky may be, we exist only as her humble servants, united in the embrace of her grace and protection.”

She had thought that the dire times their people faced would dull such zeal, yet the fervor of the people was only stoked by the terrible war which fell upon them.

“Thus this night, as every night before, we give our humble thanks for her great blessings.”

As it had grown, their group’s goals had grown too, as new ideas and woes were shared and discussed. So much of what Agytha had always taken as the nature of their world was, suddenly, in question.

“For the teachings she grants we faithful.”

Few now would be content with deposing one corrupt noble. Each day more voices came to her on Shukra’s winds. They told of the yearning for an end to everything Agytha was raised to believe was the natural way of the world.

“For the nobility, who tirelessly watch over us.”

What they were planning was a true rebellion… against the whole order of high and low birth.

“For her sacred blood, and the line of Stormqueens who bear her divine power.”

Ending the domination and control of the weak and multitudinous by the few and strong. Rebellion against even the concept of a Queen.

“The Goddess grants us these three, the great pillars of our Empire, and they uphold all, even now!”

She hoped dearly that the Goddess would understand… yet she could no longer confine herself to the teachings of her creator.

“Though in grief and anguish our Empress may have strayed, the royal line lives on – I, daughter of the great line of Zephyrus, tell you now that the Stormqueen shall rise again, by the grace of the Divine Sky! It is through the beneficence of the Goddess and the obedience of the people that we rule over these great mountains, and all the forests beyond.”

They were rejecting the life that Nemoi had granted them.

“Over all the peoples under her Sky.”

Theirs had become a rebellion against the will of the Goddess.

“From the lowliest beastfolk to the mightiest Valkyrie!”

Agytha had never even imagined that there could be so many so brutally oppressed and silenced.

Finishing her prayer, the priestess sank back, her tail pressing against the plinth of the great statue behind her.

Agytha realized suddenly how tired the holy woman appeared, how thin her cheeks and how gaunt her eyes were, her once pristine white feathers frayed.

Her voice too had been strained, yet Agytha had taken it only as a reflection of her own inner struggle.

Now as the spiritual leader of all Harpies spoke, the handmaiden heard the weight upon her voice.

“But the Great Nemoi sends rain and sun alike. In these mercurial, stormy days, unity is more vital than ever,” the woman was saying. “We must rise to this trial! We shall not be… overcome….”

Agytha could only curl her tail in her guilt.

“When… danger draws so close, and… destiny becomes… obscured….”

She looked up at the vast figure.

Even at the distance from which smallfolk were required to observe, the distress was written clearly on Thessaly’s face.

“Why do I see such death….”

The Priestess of Nemoi stared out, into the darkness beyond the walls of the temple, and the lights of the statues dimmed, guttering against the black closing in.

Not one breath was drawn in the silence.

“Are we to… stop….”

The holy woman swayed on her feet.

“No!”

Thessaly’s wings swept out, her delicate voice booming now.

The light returned, and with it, air filled lungs once again.

“No matter what it may cost us, we shall never give up!”

Essence flooded from the radiant being before them, white as the dawn, and the transient fear of moments ago was forgotten.

“The Divine Sky asks much of us, but we, her daughters, are equal to her wants!”

To the others it must have seemed mere dramatic effect. The passion and fervor of faith.

Agytha saw something else.

For a moment the face of their Priestess had been twisted with pain.