Screams erupted around Thepa as smoldering balls of fire pelted the area, tearing through everything in their path. When the fiery projectile struck, they ignited buildings, trees, and tents, sending ash and debris high into the air. The heat was suffocating, and the constant barrage was overwhelming, turning what had been a relaxing day of fellowship into a hellscape of chaos and destruction.

What's happening? Did Esha just erupt?

As Thepa struggled to process the pandemonium, hordes of scaly creatures with narrow heads, accompanied by packs of wolves, surged from the jungle to the south, seizing the opportunity to strike amidst the chaos.

"Sister Ciary!" Thepa barked, her training snapping into place through the haze of heat and fire. "Gather your Matrons and lay down a volley of arrows on the lizardmen and their beasts. Send two of your greener recruits to have Sister Vivian's matrons rush the line, and get Sister Onna's to flank them from the west. They might retreat east towards the abandoned outpost. Make sure we make those dogs bleed for this blatant attack. Sister Sonia you're with me."

Ciary gave her a wicked grin before sprinting toward the Matrons running their way, while Thepa took off in the opposite direction, heading for the city gate.

"Where are we going, Matriarch?" Sonia called out, keeping pace.

"To the southern tower. We need a clear vantage point over the southern forest. Those fireballs are coming from somewhere and my gold's on spellcasters. Given the amount of magic raining down on us, there's at least a few of them and I could use a second pair of eyes."

"Got it," Sonia replied as they dodged between Matrons who had started forming ranks to take on the oncoming horde.

Fireballs continued to rain down, lighting up the already blood-red sky as if the heavens themselves were ablaze. The relentless barrage forced Thepa and Sonia to weave through debris and injured Matrons, but they pressed on toward the thinning crowd near the gates.

Thepa glanced back, grateful to see two Matrons leading a group of younglings toward safety. Fear hung over the younglings' faces, but there was no panic. The Sisterhood had been diligent in preparing all Matrons young and old to stay come in the midst of chaos. The jungle offered many protections, but they were not foolish enough to not take precautions. The Sisterhood had already learned that mistake long before she was born. Instead, the younglings pushed forward, the older ones carried infants and toddlers in their arms.

Further down, Thepa spotted Ciary executing her orders better than she had hoped. Sixty matrons, lined in tight rows, fired volley after volley of arrows at the advancing horde. Some enemy returned arrows, but the lizardmen and wolves seemed to be relying mostly on their sorcerers who continued to rain fire from above.

Satisfied that the situation was under control for the moment, Thepa turned her attention to the southern tower. Her delay had allowed Sonia to overtake her, but as soon as they got to the tower, she was grateful. The dexterous Matron threw herself up the ladder catching it with just a small touch of the hand as the next one vaulted her up three or four rings. By the time Thepa even reached the ladder itself, Sonia was three-fourths the way up.

A great addition indeed, Thepa thought, making short work of the tower.

"Eep!" a familiar cry echoed from above.

"Youngling!" shouted an agitated Sonia. "This is no place to hide. You need to get down from there."

Thepa quickened her pace, finally reaching the top of the tower. She found Sonia scanning the tree line with her bow, while the youngling Keylee struggled to bend a bow far too large for her.

"MATRON KEYLEE!" Thepa roared, snatching the bow from the youngling's hands with more force than she intended. "What are you doing here? Get out of here, now!"

Keylee, startled but defiant, opened her mouth to protest. "I was just trying to-FIRE!"

Thepa smelled it before she saw it-smoke and ash thickening the air. Without hesitation, she grabbed Keylee and leapt from the tower just as a fireball struck its base. The wood exploded with a deafening crack, splinters and flaming debris flying like shrapnel as they plummeted toward the ground, forcing Thepa to abandon her original plan of grabbing one of the lower rings to slow herself down. Knowing there was only one thing left to do, she turned her back towards the ground, wrapped Keylee in her arms, and braced for impact.

Crack!

The impact sent a jolt of excruciating pain down Thepa's spine. Rory's bow slung across her back magnified the agony, its rigid frame digging into her flesh. She gasped, bile rising in her throat, and vomited onto herself and Keylee's hair, who was sobbing in her arms. Thepa wanted to cry as well, but she found she couldn't breathe. She tried to release her grip, but her fingers refused to respond. Her chest heaved, each breath more labored than the last, until her lungs gave out entirely.

Just before darkness claimed her, Thepa turned into a pool of her own vomit and caught a glimpse of Sonia's charred body, crumbled amidst the wreckage.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

****************************************************************************************

Hours later Thepa awoke in a dark room. Her usual keen night vision felt warped, making the shapes around her waver like shadows in a dream. A cluster of half-empty healing potions cluttered the bedside table, their contents gleaming faintly in the gloom. A light pain ran down her back, tugging at her attention as her memory slowly pieced itself together.

She shifted, noticing someone had taken the time to wrap her torso in bandages from the top of her breasts to the bottom of her stomach. The bandages bound and crisscrossed around her in such a tight manner, Thepa was surprised she could even breathe.

Then the voices hit her.

From the next room came heated, angry tones, their words laced with frustration. The high-pitched and punctuated argument sent waves of disorientation pulsing through her, echoing off the walls, further unsettling her already queasy stomach. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat, forcing herself to listen.

"I won't stand for this. We must act now. My Matrons demand retribution for the loss of Sister Sonia!"

"Matron Sonia was no Sister. Do not disrespect the council here. You would do wise to learn from Zelphina's mistakes."

"Sisters, please," came the calm diplomatic voice of her mother. "We all saw the Sister Sonia's christening. The Matriarch herself bestowed the title upon her. Sister Ciary, without the Matriarch, our duty is to protect the Beachwick. Sister Sonia's death is tragic and deserving of vengeance, but until orders are decreed, we must follow the laws predicated by those who came before us."

"Oh yes, our loving mother... the Matriarch of all... We the Sisterhood serve your call," came a mocking voice-Ciary, no doubt.

"You mock the Call of the Beachwick Ciary?" Onna shot back, her anger rising.

"I'll die by the Call of the Beachwick, Onna." Ciary's retort echoed with venom. "But the longer we wait, the more those beasts retreat back to their holes and breed. It's time we took care of them once and for all."

"How is the Matriarch, Sister Lockti?" came a much quieter voice. The ringing in Thepa's ears almost caused her to miss it, but given that the rest of the council was already present, she knew it had to be Vivian.

"The healer says she's stable," Lockti replied, her voice carrying a somber tone. "If Matron Efos hadn't found her when she did, we would've lost her. I suppose we have you to thank for that, Sister Ciary."

There was a pause, and when Ciary finally spoke, her anger was tempered. "It was my intention to make sure the younglings were safe. I'm glad the Matriarch survived because of it."

"Well ..." Her mother mused. "We won't know the true result until she wakes up. As it was, the healer had to use a large stock of the Beachwick's healing potions to fix the broken spine and punctured lung. It's possible Thepa may never walk again."

Panic surged through Thepa. She moved her hooves, and a strange, tender sensation pulsed down her legs. Desperately, she flexed her legs back and forth, the muscles responded, albeit sluggishly. When she was sure she was going to be okay, she sighed in relief. Just to be sure, she kept tapping them against the foot of the bed.

"Forgive me for being crass," said Ciary in a tone Thepa thought was anything but apologetic, "but as the newest council member, I'm a little unfamiliar of the rules for what happens when our Matriarch is out of action. Surely, we can't sit idly by without a ruler?"

"Why?" Onna's voiced with defiance. "Looking to make a play for the throne? Trying to succeed where Zelphina failed?"

Thepa could hear shuffling, the tension thickening in the air. She knew she needed to get out there, to face them, but even sitting up took every ounce of her strength. Her head spun, her body protested, but she couldn't let them tear themselves apart.

"Sit down, sisters!" her mother ordered. "We are no good divided. It is imperative with everything going on that we remain united for the safety of the Beachwick and all of the Sisterhood. The more we fight here, the more the beasts win. Sister Onna, we need to let the past stay there. Sister Ciary, strong headedness and jabs come around to those who give them. I suggest both of you, at least for now, agree to work together until we can move past this incident."

Thepa heard nothing in response, but based on the way her mother picked up the conversation, she assumed at the very least, silent acknowledgments were made.

"Now, in the absence of the Matriarch, the Call of the Beachwick still stands: protect the city at all cost. We can let that stand indefinitely. However, if the council wills action, we have three other options. First, you three agree on which one of you will hold Tempus Princeps. All the titles and responsibilities of the matriarchy will be bestowed upon one of you until a new matriarch is found, or the former one returns. Sister Vivian and Sister Onna are quite familiar with the role having fulfilled it while I was away on diplomatic business."

"Quite," added Vivian dryly.

"Second, the council declares the matriarch Idoneus ad Officum. Sister Thepa's rank and duties will be permanently stripped from her and the matrons will be allowed to submit names for a new Matriarch over a one-month period. At the end, a vote will be held over all qualified candidates."

"And the third?" Ciary asked, though Thepa already knew. It was the same thing that brought her back to the Beachwick in the first place.

"I accept my birthright."

Thepa's heart clenched. She wouldn't let her mother take that weight again. It had changed her-hardened her in ways Thepa still grieved. No, she wouldn't lose her mother to matriarchal duties a second time.

Summoning every bit of strength she had, Thepa swung her legs over the bed. The nausea hit her like a hammer, but she swallowed it down. She stumbled across the room, her movements clumsy and unsteady. The chest at the foot of the bed beckoned her to sit, but she pushed past it, reaching for the doorknob.

The moment she turned it, she collapsed through the doorway, crashing to the floor with a dull thud.

"Bean! What are you doing out of bed?" her mother cried out, and footsteps scrambled around her.

Before Thepa could fully process what was happening, Ciary and Onna were at her side, lifting her up and guiding her to a chair. She blinked, disoriented, as the light overwhelmed her senses, but when her vision cleared, she was met with their concerned faces.

Straightening as much as her weakened body would allow, Thepa raised her hand, addressing them with with the voice of a leader.

"Tomorrow will be a day of Sheol. We will honor Sister Sonia's memory as her body and spirit return to the Beachwick. Then ... " She drew a breath, her voice ragged. Then, we find those cowards who provoked us in a time of peace and murder them where they stand."

Ciary's lips curled into a salacious smile. "All of them?"

Thepa pontificated with labored breath, "Every, last, one."