“Could it be poison?”

Chione’s suggestion drew gasps, as the smallfolk conspirators huddled together outside the temple.

“That can’t be right,” Diantha said, her milky white eyes wide.

The service had ended, but Lady Tiye had remained behind. An acolyte they’d asked claimed that she had joined the many other nobles who routinely convened in the Priestess’ personal chambers for private prayer after the open mass.

Thalia spoke quietly. “Aggy’s not the only one who saw it. Priestess Thessaly looked ill. Drained somehow. But it seems monstrous to think that they could actually be… trying to assassinate her….”

“Monstrous but smart,” Chione hissed back. “Think ‘bout it. Thessaly’s the Queen’s cousin, direct member of the royal line. Ventora could never take the throne while she’s around. Only way a noble could even attempt it would be if the royal family was all gone. An’ right now that means Thessaly.”

“But Ventora would never turn on the Priestess,” Agytha objected, “even traitorous as she may be, she’s devoted to the faith. She’s praying at this very moment.”

“We thought she would never turn on the Stormqueen either,” Karlya reminded her.

Thalia sighed, her wings rustling unhappily at the nebulous nature of their opposition.

Valkyries were used to fighting out in the open, not in the shadows, with subterfuge and secrets.

“Well if that’s true, all the more reason we need to get into that private gathering. It’s all Ventora’s lot in there, to hear the acolytes tell it – this could even be the meeting we’ve been waiting for.”

“Would they really try to conspire with the Priestess right there in the room?” Diantha asked, her brows furrowed at the implausible idea.

“Could be they’re swappin’ notes or something,” suggested Chione.

Agytha sighed.

She didn’t want to believe it… but Thessaly’s condition had been disturbing to see.

“If they’re actually willing to poison the voice of the Goddess, then we can’t rule anything out.”

However it was one thing to agree on the need to listen in on that meeting, and another to achieve it.

Slipping into the temple was easy enough – even smallfolk were welcome at any and all hours – but while from there it was simple enough to venture lower in search of the supposed meeting, they ran up against an unexpected roadblock.

“Don’t understand,” Shukra murmured, as she stared at the swirling wall of wind.

The spell would go unseen by anyone not willing to pick or force the vast door or smaller subdoor sealing off access to the Priestess’ quarters, but for those who had, it provided a far sterner obstacle.

It was powerful magic of the sort only the line of the Stormqueens could call upon – Agytha didn’t need Shukra to tell her that – and it was cutting off all access to Priestess Thessaly’s chambers.

“Perhaps the others already left, and the Priestess wanted to be alone?” Diantha proposed.

Agytha perked up at that thought.

“Or… it could be for more private prayer with the nobles,” she suggested.

Shukra pressed her fingertips to the smoky currents, and gave a contemplative hum, tilting her head.

Her tail snaked up too, the sting pressing to the surface, probing as did her hands.

Agytha stared.

How like Shukra, not to think of the consequences in the least when it came to some new or unusual magic.

But this was the magic of their Priestess.

“W-wait, what are you doing? If Priestess Thessaly created this barrier then… then we can’t….”

She fell silent as she met Chione’s eye.

The two looked similarly rattled, yet as ever they had, each gave the other strength.

They had to do this, just as they had to defy the teaching of Nemoi herself.

“Even if you can get us through, there could be other defenses past it, even traps,” Diantha observed.

Shukra shot an unusual look back at her.

“Don’t need to go through,” was all she actually said, but Agytha could have sworn she saw a trace of amusement, even satisfaction.

Was Shukra holding a grudge against Diantha, for so literally seeing through her secret communication spell?

If she was, she seemed to think that this was a redemption of her skills.

Agytha was inclined to agree, as Shukra so artfully guided the flowing winds with gentle touch and whispered chant, to part around her hands, opening up a small hole without ever breaking the flow.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Through that, she wove and projected another magic, far simpler to her, to call upon the air beyond.

After a few moments voices drew near.

Chione and Thalia started, looking around for the source, but the only explanation from Shukra, as she stood there, holding open the breach in the barrier, was a self-satisfied ‘hm’.

“Incredible,” Diantha muttered, “it’s as though we were in the room!”

Shukra’s smug cheeks turned a little pink at the words of her self-appointed rival.

No-one else noticed, however – the speech reaching their ears from beneath had everyone’s full attention.

“I assure you, my cousin acted with the utmost discretion,” spoke the distinctively unpleasant voice of lady Tanit of Ramhorn.

Lady Tiye gave an unimpressed ‘hmph’.

“So you say, my lady, yet she was seen to depart in the dark of night, before the first alarm was raised for the attack.”

“You would have had those of my blood linger in a soon-to-be battleground?!”

“Many have risked much more for the sake of the plan,” was all Tiye had to say in answer.

“Enough.”

Lady Ventora’s voice cut across Tanit’s, as the latter attempted to argue back.

“The sacrifice of Ramhorn to the Pharyes was a great sacrifice. This… indiscretion will be dealt with, to complete the illusion. We shall put about a story that the highborn present were forced to flee due to an attack on their roost by lowborn harpies and ogres – and that this treasonous act was what allowed the territory to fall so precipitously.”

“Very wise, my lady,” murmured another voice.

Others rose in similar assent.

“Goddess,” Karlya whispered, “how many of them are there?”

“Still, I fear we risk too much,” spoke another noblewoman. “This plan, the coming attack, too much can go awry….”

Agytha felt a chill in the warm temple depths, as they recognized Lady Merytre, leading voice in the moderate faction. Setting aside those in the loyalist faction under Lady Shedet, all the most influential noblewomen of the court were there.

She exchanged panicked looks with Chione.

The conspiracy had spread far further than they’d imagined.

Ventora’s voice asserted itself once more.

“The plan must be brought swiftly to fruition – already we have reports of more rebellions fomenting, all over the Empire. The loss of the Rootflood was the first, but more will follow if we allow it. We must act before then. The court and highborn are prepared and the Stormqueen remains missing or slain – there can be no more delay. We must secure the throne now. The attack on the Eyrie and the defeat of the Pharyes here will be pivotal in that – only through such a triumph can the new Empress truly unite our people and make whole the Empire.”

“But if we should fail,” Merytre replied, “we would lose the court and palace, the Eyrie, even the throne itself! The Empire would be shattered! This whole war was folly I fear now - we have gambled too much on this conspiracy with the enemy!”

“We risk only what the Goddess gives us, and we must be ready to offer all in service to her divine will.”

That elegant, powerful voice cut through the murmurs of assent like a knife, and drove straight into Agytha’s chest.

“We come now to a time of great trials, in which all of us shall be tested, my ladies. I no more wish to take the throne than I did to see the sorrowful fall of my dear cousin, but it is not for us to question the Goddess, or her plans for each of us. It falls to each of you find your faith and muster all resolve, to follow the path laid out for us by the Divine Sky.”

Priestess Thessaly spoke as if in sermon, and the mere nobles could only fall silent before her holy words.

Separated by many feet of stone and turns of corridors, the small grey harpy fell back, against the wall at the side of the vast corridor, feeling the cavern spin around her.

“It can’t be,” Agytha whispered.

But it was.

Softer now, Thessaly spoke again, tone refined yet urgent.

“Another vision came to me, as I stood at the center of the temple tonight. Another prophecy from the Goddess, gifted to me at a moment of shameful weakness to warn against any wavering of heart.”

“Please, Priestess, tell us what you saw.”

Thessaly was silent for a moment longer, all those listening, above and below, hanging on her next words.

“I saw the fate which shall befall we Daughters of Nemoi, should we waver in our course. I saw flames, bursting up through the mountainside, consuming homes and smallfolk alike… and rearing up into great claws of fire that tore down even the palace and temple, and dragged we highborn from the skies… down into the depths, where the crawling insects engulfed us all….”

None spoke.

“I can see nothing more… not in prophecy… and not in the weft of fate. Our… futures have grown dark to my limited vision.”

“Goddess, no,” Tiye whispered.

Ventora cleared her throat, cutting through the horrified silence.

“My ladies, this is clear proof of the necessity of action. Even the most extreme measures cannot be too great in the cause of averting the total destruction of the Empire and the people. Even if it means risking the capital and palace.”

“Well spoken, Lady Ventora,” the Priestess replied. “No cost can be too great now, in this time of existential crisis. It was for this reason that the Goddess must have guided us to the discovery of the Pharyes below us, and it is for this purpose which we must act again. This struggle, this war, for the sake of all Harpies, is I am certain, the very meaning of our lives. Thus, even if it leads to our own endings, I shall, if you will forgive me, consider salvation easily won, and face my demise joyfully, that I may at last be of true use to the Goddess. We are but passing motes on the winds of history, amid the long and illustrious destiny of the great Harpy Empire, and prosperity and peace for our people must come before all else.”

“I trust there shall be no more dissent.”

Ventora spoke gravely, as if even she were rattled.

“Naturally,” Lady Tanit spoke, hesitatingly, “as is so for the smallfolk, even our lives were granted us for the service of the Divine Sky, and we must be prepared to offer them to her once more.”

The woman sounded less convinced, stiffer, her voice lacking the religious zeal and altruistic fervor of the Priestess.

Agytha could easily imagine how, in the minds of women like Tanit, it was one thing to sacrifice the smallfolk for their goals, but quite another entirely to sacrifice themselves.

Yet none of the gathered nobles gave any argument.

Ventora went on.

“That is well then, as we come now to the most dangerous, precarious part of the plan. One in which a great many sacrifices shall be required – but take heart my ladies, for if you each play your parts well then we, the highborn, shall go on, as we must, to rebuild, led by our new Stormqueen as we reunite the Empire and blow away all traces of these stormy days.”

“What is this plan, Lady Ventora? Is this the purpose of the tunnels, and the meaning behind the abductions?” Merytre asked.

“Precisely so. Our victory lies in the very jaws of defeat – the enemy, the Pharyes, seek to break our Empire through the capture of our capital, and the destruction of the royal line and court. Towards that end, they will act rashly and overextend themselves, committing all of their forces, their precious mechanical knights and their paltry golems all to taking Mount Skycrown. They believe we mean to let them – that we have undermined the great Basin precisely to enable their assault – instead they shall find the tunnels defended, filled with all manner of our subjects, armed and prepared for battle.”

“Can we truly defeat them?” Merytre asked quietly, “their forces grow ever larger it seems.”

“We have no need to,” Thessaly replied. “This attack will see all their strength gathered in one place, concentrated into the battle, even their reserves drawn into the desperate struggle. That shall be the time for our greatest sacrifice.”

“You can’t mean-”

Thessaly went on.

“The ogres, base and ungrateful as they may be, have their place in our Empire. They alone have the magic necessary to enact our victory. To turn the Great Basin into a trap.”

“You can’t mean to… to collapse the whole plateau?!” Merytre whispered, aghast.

“Nothing less will suffice. We shall bury the Pharyes forever, under the weight of all which they sought to tear down, and in so doing unleash the fires of the depths upon them in turn.”

“That isn’t a trap, it’s a tomb!”

“Yes, indeed, for the enemy.”

“And for all those fighting for us in the tunnels, those on the surface too! Thousands will die!”

“My lady,” Thessaly said, her voice hard and cold and wholly without its usual affectations of retiring politeness, “this is the sacrifice the Goddess calls upon us to make. We shall crush our enemies forever and win this war, and, though I should have sought any other to bear this burden were it possible, this triumph shall be the moment of my ascension. As the perfidious enemy attempt to destroy the very mountain itself, I shall call upon the Goddess and her blessings to protect us, to grant victory. Then I shall arise as both Priestess and our new Stormqueen, the savior of the Empire, ready to lead our people into peace and prosperity. We will have defeated our dark fate.”

“And what of the Thirteen Spires? The palace and the temple?”

“They shall of course survive – the court must be re-established quickly, after the terrible disaster which will claim so many lives. The nobles shall have no choice then, but to unite under their Empress, and in turn the smallfolk shall forget their foolish notions of revolt, and remember instead their duty to the Stormqueens and the highborn. Their service to the Goddess.”

“There is no alternative,” Lady Tanit said, even her voice heavy, pained, “the Empire is worth any sacrifice. Even this. The Eyrie can be rebuilt, and the smallfolk will multiply once more, as ever they have.”

Ventora gave a murmur of approval.

“Indeed so, my lady. This plan, this sacrifice, offers us the first true light in these dark times. The only route through which we can escape the doom which Nemoi had shown us.”

“As you say,” Merytre answered, finally.

The other voices gave similar assent.

“Good. Now, my ladies, we must work quickly. I have tasks for each of you, and they must be completed before the attack commences – and before any more of the ogres realize what we have been doing goes beyond trapping individual tunnels.”

“Whatever we can do,” Tanit said at once.

“Lady Tiye has overseen the ogre mages we are using, but they require more time to complete the work. A few days, it would seem. Until then you shall-”

A creak in the corridor behind her made Agytha squeak with fright.

She had totally forgotten herself, their situation, even the grave personal danger, as they heard the horrors of the plan being enacted beneath their feet.

One of the smaller doors was opening, out from some servant’s room, and Karlya pulled her quickly away, Thalia dragging the similarly slow Diantha and Shukra.

With no-where else to go, they could only escape through the window.

Huddling together outside, on a narrow ledge, waiting for the sounds in the corridor to move on, Agytha should have felt her heart racing, breath tight in her chest from the fear.

Instead, in the calm night air, she felt a deep chill.

Cold was creeping over her, penetrating to her bones, as she lay against the stone, and felt her whole world spinning around her.