Val drew back the branches, and gave a sudden snort of disgust at the white face she found.

  The man was preserved by the cold, and other than his grotesque pallor - splotched white and black, she might not have guessed he had lay there dead for months. His chest was collapsed, pierced through with shards of his own ribs and his black clothing shredded into a pink mash of his organs and spongy lungs, the pooling blood frozen around him dark and dull. Val crouched and grimly surveyed what would have been her own state days earlier. She reached one hand and began to cut the coiling red snake sigil from his shoulder with her hip knife.

  A silver wolf came to her side, nostrils flaring on his wet, dark nose as he snuffled at the body inspecting the smells. When his head drew a little too close to the man's hand Val growled to warn him not to try tasting it. The wolf flicked an ear in her direction and bounded onwards into the undergrowth.

  As she sawed the last thread securing the sigil free, she tucked it into a pouch on her belt and stood. “We’ve found them,” she called over her shoulder.

  Dorius was not far behind, perched on Driftbane’s back with his knees hooked over the shoulders of her wings. The horse flicked him with her tail to correct his posture as he hung somewhat precariously over her side, pulling on her mane. It had been odd looking up to him so regularly for once in her life.

  Abrigardius walked past him, her face set sternly. Walking with this new god had taken some getting used to, she was nothing like Fenris.

  Fenris seemed a piece of the mountain ecosystem, in his wolf form he stalked no differently than any other animal and left no footprints behind his huge paws. There was a constant undercurrent of feral danger to his manner - even when he was chuckling at his crude humor and it slipped, the threat remained of its return. Whether it was in the steady gaze of yellow eyes, or the odd resonance in his voice. It was not aggressive, but it had a familiar edge to Val of the harsh lessons learned to survive, and a condescension for anything that did not know these lessons too.

  Abrigardius stood apart.

  The air constantly shimmered around her, trees bent their limbs from her path and the underbrush coiled away to open before her step. Boulders shuddered themselves free of the earth and rolled clear, pebbles tumbled to even the ground beneath her feet. The constant thrum of harmonics around them elated into jubilant and playful glissandos at her slightest movement. Most of the magic seemed unconscious, she reworked the world beneath her very feet with constant unrestrained ease. Dorius seemed in awe of it.

  It made Val uncomfortable. And the noise was giving her a headache.

  Val continued forward, and paused with her hand against a tree as thick as her torso, snapped in half midway up its trunk. The long fibers of the tree arched over with its fallen top in elegant curls, tipped with twisted black where the fire just caught them. She wore a full cape of black wolf fur across her shoulders now, belted around her waist and torso with her harness to form her warm outer layers. Most of her clothing had been ruined, torn or soaked through with her own blood, and she had only spare under layers with their supplies. The mantle of the cloak was made of the fur flicked with silver, while the body of the cape hung near solid black.

  Fenris had torn the skin from his own body for her in a rather gruesome display, and with an odd twist of the healing magic the skin, once separated, cured as soft as calfskin. He had remarked as he passed it to her that it was a replacement for the one he had taken with a crude “This one don’t have ball sweat on it yet.”

  There was no snow. The ground was black with char and the forest fire that had raged had spread further up the slope before them. Twisted bodies and weapons were dotted between felled trees and huge furrows in the ground. Val stepped out between them and sniffed as black snoot puffed around her footstep. Lowering herself out of cautious instinct, she began to walk between the bodies - searching for a flash of red.

  “They attacked you?” asked Dorius, Driftbane shuffled nervously at the edge of the clearing.

  Abrigardius frowned, “I do not remember.”

  “Looks to me like you attacked them,” added Fenris, crouching to inspect a hand that strained skyward and snapping one finger off, “Royally fucked ‘em up.”

  To Val’s read, the battlefield was a slaughter. The fire had started not far from where they emerged, in a tumble of broken trees and turned earth that appeared to be where the dragon had landed. Several men were bent in two, bodies collapsed into wounds in the earth that were likely footprints, and with minimal burns. The rest were spread in a cone before the landing zone, skulls and torsos turned away as they fled in terror. Those closest were scorched to nothing more than white bone, dusted with ash. Those further back twisted with blackened flesh still peeling - preserved in the chill. The fire had carried up beyond them then, spreading to leave a more natural path. She realized ruefully how deep their folly had been to try and challenge a dragon.

  She found what she was looking for in one of the skeletons. A red, crystal snake broach had been unharmed by the heat that had scorched flesh from bone, and fallen between the ribs of the chest to lodge into the hips. With the tip of her knife she carefully tapped it free and picked it up from the ground, rubbing the soot from its polished angles. Picking her way through the ruins she returned to Dorius.

  He was covering his mouth and nose with both hands looking rather pale, but lowered one for Val to obediently drop the broach. He turned it one handed, light glinting off it sharply.

  “Do you remember how you woke up?” asked Dorius. Val stalked out again to continue her inspection of the battlefield

  Abrigardius did not seem bothered by the sight of her carnage, and instead scratched her chin. She had tied back her greying hair into a bun on her head. “I remember very little of the past few months. Only the painful realization over and over again that I kept on waking.”

  “You do not remember why the Carmine Snake Prince came to you?” he held the broach out for her, hoping it might spark some memory. A breeze brushed it, lifting it into the air to hover it into her hand.

  She squinted at it foggily, and furrowed her brows. Then she tossed it callously, the wind caught it and left it hovering behind her. When she marched out on the battlefield she stood on the twisted torsos and bones without regard.

  “Did your herd see?” asked Dorius, still covering his nose. He leaned into the air to try and catch the broach back.

  Driftbane flicked an ear back, dancing under him slightly to let his hand close on the crystal snake. We were eager not to be seen, so were careful not to fly. But we saw them come, and followed them on their journey here. We do not know how they woke you. We never entered your cave.

  “Did you see the battle?” pressed Dorius.

  Only the fire.

  Dorius crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose beneath his fingers, “While technically not what the Vigilants asked of us, I would be disappointed if we could not work out the Carmine’s purpose for coming here? The Vigil seemed to know, but were not forthcoming. Do you think the Laons would know?”

  Val hummed a non-answer, and crouched to inspect another body. Blackened flesh still clung to the pits of the skull and the internal viscera where the fire had burned hot but not consistently enough to consume all the flesh. In its hand was a thin sword, twisted and warped from the heat.

  “I remember some yelling about being the last? If there was anything I could do to save them. It is hard to tell which set of memories they belong to.” Abrigardius stood on the chest of one skeleton, it gave way beneath her foot and the ash motes thrown up remained hovering in the air around her step. Val sniffed in disapproval, and turned her attention from the god to keep sawing at another relatively intact sigil she had found, freeing it to add to the first in her pouch.

  “Save them?” repeated Dorius

  “Something about their line ending,” confirmed Abrigardius. She turned her shoulder, and Val felt an odd sensation in her gut driven more by the lack of feeling than a conscious sense that magic was being worked. Without looking the earth gave a heaving crack and opened a deep pit. The churning earth began to roll into it, carrying the bodies and broken weapons with it. Val backed up, nervously watching as it streamed around her legs to avoid taking her with it. Unceremoniously, bodies and skeletons were broken apart by the churning earth, jaws separated from skulls, legs from torsos, and swallowed by the pit.

  She wondered, as she watched another sigil disappear into the pit, if the Dragon God’s ease with such a diverse range of magics, both grand and subtle, was because she was a god or were these skills she had as a mortal? It was obvious she had a full range of abilities across the spectrums, contrary to the information the bell players had shared with her. Yet, Fenris had claimed to only have the magics he had as a mortal. Would it be possible for Val to refine her control to the degree that she could manipulate singular flames with the same subtlety? Or were some things exclusive to gods?

  “They thought they were ending…” Dorius chewed the thought, “They must have truly believed it to come so far. I…” Dorius paused, the thought trailing to silence.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Val straightened cautiously, stretching her neck to the side that now got sore from the uneven weight of her horns. Gingerly, she returned to him, stepping over the fresh earth beneath her with a weary eye in case it decided to move again.

  “We need to get back,” said Dorius darkly, “Val?”

  Val hesitated, “It may be too late today to set out,” she warned.

  Driftbane turned beneath Dorius, beginning to make her way back in the direction they had come. Val hovered, watching back towards Abrigale who seemed to be regarding the clearing in thought still.

  “Are you meant to do something? As a god?” she asked Fenris, who was sitting bored nearby picking at his ear with one finger as they inspected the corpses.

  “You can do whatever you want,” he said with a dismissive snort. One of his wolves, Val was not sure which twin, emerged from the scrub behind him to begin following Dorius, tongue lolling lazily.

  “But are you meant to do anything?”

  “There’s no ‘meant’,” explained Fenris shortly, “You existing is all that is necessary for your divinity and serves the Watcher’s purpose. Your payment is the fact you can do whatever you want. Piss on the corpses for all I care.”

  Abrigardius’ face grew icy at the mention of the Watcher. “You seem to take pleasure in taking care of your own people, of sorts?” replied Abrigardius, twisting the word ‘pleasure’ with an odd growl that made Val uneasy.

  “Aye,” said Fenris and did not explain further.

  “Did Sachmis or Aethon instruct you?”

  “As a mortal I was forged into my nature. How I keep myself busy since is its result,” he replied cryptically.

  Abrigardius gave a snarl of sudden fury, and turned from the wolf to march after Dorius. Behind her the earth surged skywards into a thin pillar and, with a sickening shift of the wind, lightning cracked from a clear sky into it. Val shielded her face from the light, her heart thumping at the noise, and when she looked up the pillar had been crystallized, a tumbling scene of skulls and grasping skeletal hands captured eternal within it.

  She glanced at Fenris, who shrugged, yawned, and got to his feet to trail after. She did not know if the creation was a gravestone or warning. Nervous to leave Dorius alone with the company of this creature, Val hurried to catch up.

  Dorius was looking over his shoulder waiting for her, “What was the noise?” he asked as she drew near.

  Val cast a glance to see how close Abrigardius remained and replied, “Nothing important,” then eager to change the topic, “Why the need to return?”

  Dorius watched up the path behind him for a moment, then shifted his focus, “Apart from needing to return to Kal’fall. I am nervous about what news the Second believed itself ending forebodes…”

  “You suspect something?” she prompted, matching pace with Driftbane.

  “Remember the military movement on the eastern border? My suspicion Sylus and Synthias had formed some kind of alliance? What purpose would that serve them, competing for the same throne? But what if they knew an opportunity for expansion was on the horizon - an opportunity maybe for two thrones when there was once one?”

  Val felt her skin prickle cold as she considered the thought, “You think they know what this has been about? And the Fourth Pentarch.”

  “I think they know more than we do. I remain unsure how my Uncle fits into this, I am still hesitant to call this treason and suspect he knows… something… but maybe not as much as he should. I’d like to learn what Elias has discovered in the libraries… and Bastian, if… well, if there has been much learnt of how Sylus knows what he knows.”

  Val didn’t have much reassurance for the question he left hanging so gently added, “He’ll still be there.”

  Dorius sniffed, “We shall see.”

  Val took a nervous breath, “You could travel faster if you flew?”

  Dorius started, and turned his eyes to look at her, “And leave you?”

  Val felt suddenly very anxious, she lowered her eyes and did not reply.

  The silence between them stretched and Dorius drew a shaking breath, “When would you come back?”

  Val shifted, “I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

  Dorius was silent, wringing one hand in the other.

  “Are you scared?” asked Val. Her heart clenched, she knew if he said yes she would not have the strength to follow through.

  There was a long pause. “I don’t know.” Dorius took a breath and steadied himself, “I thought you were dead.”

  Val hummed, “I did too.”

  “You told me to take care of myself, I know I-”

  Val cut him off, “I’m glad you came.”

  Dorius remained looking at his hands, tracing the line of his right knuckle where he would spin his mother’s signet ring.

  “I will come back,” she reassured, although her voice did not sound as confident as she had hoped it would.

  “I trust you,” replied Dorius without looking at her.

  —

  Bastian perched uneasy on the belltower of the Chapel. From high above he could watch everything in the town with ease.

  He watched the pilgrims beyond the wall go about their day. He watched the guard change at the Snake’s camp and the soldiers feed their beasts. He watched the inhabitants of High Haven clean their homes and labor on a storage barn they were building.

  He blinked when he spied the Prime emerging from the Chapel, Bryer behind her. She seemed to turn towards him, raising a hand in a greeting that could have just as easily been a glance towards the chapel and palm raised to shield eyes from the sun against his back. He hunched and released a hiss of anger, clenching and unclenching his talons.

  Lee’to had bought him a goat heart, cut into pieces, for him to eat that morning. At first his human mind had felt disgusted at the idea of eating raw meat, but his bird stomach had grumbled and won through. Learning to feed himself had been an awkward effort. His small beak was only suited to tiny mouthfuls, and the cut pieces of the heart took practice for him to hold beneath his clumsy talons. With a torrent of oaths he had fed himself, tearing mouthfuls one by one and refused any help to cut the heart smaller. His feet and beak had been stained with blood when he was done.

  He hated being inside as a goshawk. He’d tried to sleep near his bed and discarded it as sentimental folly immediately. Too easily his feathers brushed against objects and overstimulated him, or his claws tripped on the flat surfaces. It felt like wearing poorly made shoes that caused him pain with every step, he’d rather go barefoot.

  Being outside though, felt like an admission of failure. He had no idea how to become a man again, or if it was even possible. He comforted himself with self-indulgent fantasies of the rage-filled tirades he might scream at the Vigilants when he was human again. Or if he was stuck as a bird, detailed plans to haunt them for the rest of his life. No Vigilant would ever leave the Chapel again, for fear he would dive them and claw their scalps and eyes.

  As time passed, his memory of his human body and its sensations was already growing fuzzier. Even the sound of his own voice felt odd in his memories. He fueled his seething anger with his growing discomfort, it seemed a better state than losing himself to contemplating his loss, or how to handle a reunion with Val and Dorius as he was. Anything to hold back having to face the dark cloud of panic and grief that had been bubbling in his gut.

  Fucking Dorius… He was certain the Prince was to blame for this.

  The Prime and Bryer made their way to the gate, a pair of Laon soldiers in tow. He did not need to move closer, his vision was so sharp. The townsfolk paused their work to watch, a boy was sent running to alert others. Just as curious, Bastian watched as the Laons approached the gate to unbar it.

  It was entirely unceremonious. He was too far to hear the groan of the gate, but the turned heads of pilgrims beyond the wall and the guards at the encampment told him they heard and saw it too. Without words, the Vigilants left the gate open behind them and began to walk back to their chapel. An explosion of activity erupted behind them as both sides of the community scrambled to understand the change. He spied Gail, who had arrived thanks to one of the runners, jogging after the Prime gesturing his questions.

  Bastian turned an eye towards the mountains, then with another dissatisfied hiss settled into position to watch the fallout. Below him, the bells were silent.

  —

  Val passed Dorius the small satchel he had bought with him, she had packed him the last of the nuts but kept the rest of their supplies in her larger pack. Dorius huddled in his layers, shivering on the back of Driftbane in the dawn chill. The horse had reassured them she could make the return journey to High Haven in a day, but was still learning to estimate her flight with extra weight. He’d need something for a meal if they took a rest.

  Dorius looked apprehensive back into the arch of the cavern, but neither god emerged to see him off. The dawn had emerged grey, with thin clouds and a pale sky.

  Val was surprised at how hard it was to find her voice, “Tell Bastian to take my place for a while, as a favor to me. Tell him I’m sorry.”

  Dorius nodded and sat tall with the strength he always found somewhere in his skinny frame, “I order you to seek what you search for. And do not return till you find it.”

  Val sniffed, and felt her breath catch. His crystal blue eyes caught hers. He stretched a hand down to her and offered two tokens, tucking them within her fingers out of sight. Val stepped back to give Driftbane the space for her take off.

  “You are free of my service.” He said the words in an unsteady rush, as if he was scared they would not come out if he took his time.

  She watched the shrinking shadow they cast on the tree tops of the lower slopes as Driftbane winged them away. She watched till they were a tiny blue-grey dot, disappearing within the thin clouds of a glum sunrise. She opened her hand and inspected what Dorius had left her. His own leather shoulder sigil of the Phoenix, and his signet ring, four-horned dragon head curled within the face.

  She drew a shaking breath, and felt uncertain freedom.