[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/NBIbOKU.png[/img][hr][hr][h3][i][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdPhKXfbPSk][color=dcdcdc][u]Sound[/u][/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAQr_G_xOmo&list=PLPJny5xpzQqQYQFkrsntsCt1Kqghs88LB&index=14][color=dcdcdc][u]and[/u][/color][/url] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPjr8DRgYZU&list=PLPJny5xpzQqQYQFkrsntsCt1Kqghs88LB&index=13][color=dcdcdc][u]Fury[/u][/color][/url][/i][/h3][/center][hr][hr]
They were not happy with her, she knew. 

The stars in the night sky looked a little bit different here, but the crickets sounded the same. Tyrel stretched out in the hammock, shifting and swinging gently, her foot hanging out of it. Idly, she flexed her toes, watching the lines of golden body paint gleam faintly under the moonlight. It was only to distract her. 

The Avatar of Vyshta throwing off her ceremonial robes, dirtying her hands, carrying buckets, holding screaming patients down while they were healed: this was not the image that those in charge wanted to project. It was supposed to have been a display of majesty. Yet, what good would that have done? Who would it have concretely helped? The nineteen-year-old shifted again, restlessly. Not three feet away were her crutches, and she even started to reach for them before thinking better of it. She lay back. There would be no late-night pacing. 

She’d healed. She was no specialist, no lifelong Daughter of Oirase, but she was temple-trained. Ever since those two fateful days on Tantas Island that had determined her entire future, she had been trained and instructed in everything a living divinity might need to know. 

Yet, she did not feel like a goddess by simply walking around in the splendid regalia that they’d dressed her in. A goddess should make a difference. A goddess should bring joy and deliverance to her people. [color=98FB98][i]In six years, I will bring these lessons with me when I ascend,[/i][/color] she thought, in a pointed attempt to reassure herself. 

All that it did was make her shift again, uncomfortably. She rested her cheek on her hand. Ever more often she was without Miret. She was without Chad. She saw aluu and aloi, Calidan, Derii, and Sendrii for only a few weeks each year. Her old room, back in Angreth, felt like a mausoleum sometimes. 

In one smooth motion, she slid from the hammock and landed in a crouch. Retrieving her crutches, she left her fancy, bloodied outfit hanging from a nearby hook and shrugged, instead, into the simple blue shirt and loose dark pants that Derii had given her at a mette’stiroi two years ago. She was not to be seen in them, she had been ‘advised’, except at night, except as pajamas. Yet, these were the clothes, sewn by her sister’s hand, that knew her body best. They did not put her flesh on display. They did not pinch or pull or restrict. The sleeves were loose and could be rolled up and held back with a button so they didn’t interfere with the loops of her crutches. The right pant leg was sewn shut with actual attention to the shape of her stump instead of being crudely truncated. She stuffed her foot into her boot, swept some of the remnants of her elaborate hairdo from her eyes, and gave into the impulse to… [i]move[/i]. 

They were on the outskirts of a large town, but it still felt like a military camp. The people in charge had taken every precaution to keep the young avatar of the fallen goddess separate from the rough and crude soldiers who bunked in the trees and large tents but, practically speaking, as she informally outranked almost everyone on the ground, they could do little to stop her night-time wanderings. She was glad of it.

Distance fell away in the comforting language of footsteps: the familiar rhythm of click-swing-thump, click-swing-thump. Instead of letting her mind wander, Tyrel lost herself in the sensory experience of it all: the scents of this alien forest and its strange, broad-leafed trees, the antiseptics and chemicals of the field hospital, the faint burnt smells in the town. She took in the sounds of the strange birds hooting and the small animals scampering. Paired sentries made quiet conversation. A couple of the soldiers’ tents were still lit with the flickering light of candles, lamps, or arcane magic. Their voices, joking, weaving stories, or rising and falling with the fortunes of gambling, reached her ears. Her eyes, meanwhile, were already well-adjusted to the lessened light, and they darted, with a curiosity she had never been able to satisfy, in the direction of a half-dozen side trails, pathways, and streets. They hovered over homes. They warily regarded the sentries and, each time that she was recognized, were paired with a nod as she continued. She would explore Felaxo tonight. This much, she had determined. A stray thought occurred to her: [i]Do yanii also do this?[/i] She was not sure where it had come from. The huusoi, of course, were dull, boring people for the most part, with little in the way of curiosity or wonder. Their overwhelming focus on the practical was… not without its uses, she’d been taught, but very much not the yasoi way, very much a path to unsatisfying achievement. 

Then, the gate to the town loomed ahead, and the four soldiers at its checkpoint. Tyrel hesitated. They could not refuse her, of course, but she was on a thin branch here. Colonel Nephyn’raad had all-but removed her from the field hospital, shaking his head while extolling all of the hard work her stylists had put into her costume. She grimaced. She could try to sneak through the forest, but they were likely watching it. If some of the locals had embraced their cause, much to everyone’s delight, others viewed them with suspicion and were perceived with it in turn. Still others, hiding out in the depths of the jungle, were outright hostile. 

[color=F0FFF0]“My lady Vyshta?”[/color] came a voice, and Tyrel whirled on the spot, nerves sizzling. There was a girl on the path - perhaps just a handful of years her junior. The avatar recognized her. [color=98FB98]“Seviin?”[/color]

She bowed her head. [color=F0FFF0]“The same, my lady.”[/color] Idly, they came a few steps closer to each other. They’d spoken surprisingly little of substance, despite having spent much of the day in each other’s company. Mostly, it had been the work of saving lives that had bonded them. If Tyrel could not remember the girl’s full name or hometown, she knew perfectly well how quickly her pain-dampening magics would set in on a patient with an abdominal wound. She knew exactly how Seviin would fold her bandages. [color=98FB98]“What keeps [i]you[/i] awake at this unholy hour?”[/color] she enquired. [color=98FB98]“Oirase knows you’ll need your sleep if tomorrow is anything like today was.”[/color]

They came together and their voices lowered. [color=F0FFF0]“I might put precisely the same query to your radiance,”[/color] Seviin responded, and Tyrel smiled ruefully. [color=98FB98]“Turns out, even goddesses have trouble sleeping sometimes,”[/color] she admitted with a shrug. They were not so much walking as standing off to the side of the road, restlessly taking a step or two at a time in either direction. Seviin glanced down, and then back up, knowingly. [color=F0FFF0]“They didn’t like it,”[/color] she remarked, [color=F0FFF0]“Did they? When you came to work in the hospital.”[/color]

Tyrel swung idly on her crutches, pawing at the ground with the toe of her boot. She looked up. [color=98FB98]“I expect they did not,”[/color] she confirmed, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from her eyes. She glanced away, down the road, to where the sentries waited in the distance. She turned back to Seviin. [color=98FB98]“I’m sure they were especially fond of all the blood I got on my nice little outfit.”[/color]

Seviin smiled conspiratorially at that, absently following Tyrel’s lead and poking at the ground with the toe of one of her shoes. The smile faded, however, and she became earnest. [color=F0FFF0]“You saved lives, your radiance.”[/color]

For some reason, it felt strange to be addressed so formally by a peer. Seven hours ago, they had both stood at a wash basin, scrubbing blood off of their hands together. Perhaps it should not have. Her family, Miret, and Chad aside, she was spoken to as a goddess by all she met. Perhaps she just missed them. They were, this moment, landing in Solcuura, she knew, taking the capital by night, facing mortal danger, most likely, without her. How Tyrel had [i]begged[/i] - the young goddess before an old man in a uniform - to be allowed to accompany them. She’d been too valuable, of course: always too valuable to risk. [color=98FB98]“I’m… glad,”[/color] she replied belatedly. [color=98FB98]“Glad to be of some genuine use.”[/color] A sigh built but did not escape. Seviin was dangerous, she realized. The words of this girl dripped with subtle rebellion and, what was more, Tyrel did not find herself in complete disagreement with them. 

[color=F0FFF0]“They all admire you very much back at the hospital, Lady Vyshta,”[/color] The young priestess assured her. [color=F0FFF0]“You are the first and - to date - [i]only[/i] one of the higher-ups who’s made more than a perfunctory visit. At least a dozen people who would otherwise not be are alive because of you.”[/color]

[color=98FB98]“I only wish they’d let me do more,”[/color] Tyrel admitted, kicking at a pebble. She twisted to regard Seviin in full. [color=98FB98]“I fear my leash is very short, and even shorter now.”[/color]

[color=F0FFF0]“You cannot simply command them?”[/color]

The avatar shook her head. [color=98FB98]“It turns out there are those above even goddesses.”[/color]

Seviin regarded her steadily in the moonlight, smiling faintly, ruefully. She started to reach out for Tyrel’s hands, but then thought better of it. [color=F0FFF0] “These old men, you know, understand only Exiran and Damy.”[/color] She paused. [color=F0FFF0]“Oh, and perhaps some measure of Ypti.”[/color] She blinked in distaste. [color=F0FFF0]“In their own way.”[/color] Tyrel knew what she meant. There was very much a difference between how the smallfolk addressed her as ‘radiance’ and how the men in charge did. There was very much a difference in how the one admired her as compared to the other. Perhaps that was why her ‘radiant’ clothing was covered in blood and she was wearing a shirt and pair of pants that her sister had sewn. Instead, she reached out for Seviin’s hands, crutches dangling from their cuffs. [color=98FB98]“We will not be mere minor pieces on their board forever, suunei.”[/color] She tried on a reassuring smile. Seviin’s hands were small, cold, and sweaty. It had not even occurred to her to use the familiar term for the girl, and yet she had.

Yet, Seviin did not seem to take heart. She half turned, hands still loosely in Tyrel’s and sighed. [color=F0FFF0]“I shall pray that you are right, my Lady Vyshta.”[/color]

She needed reassurance, the avatar realized. She was flagging. Managing a bit of a puckish smile, she squeezed the girl’s hands. [color=98FB98]“Your prayers have been heard,”[/color] she assured Seviin, [color=98FB98]“And I shall work hard with all my divine power to grant them.”[/color] It was the sort of joke she made all the time with Miret and Chad. She’d tried to make it with her parents before, but they’d been mortified.

Seviin’s hands slid free and she got down on her knees. [color=F0FFF0]“I am greatly honoured, your radiance. I shall strive to be worthy of the favour you’ve shown me.”[/color]

Something inside of Tyrel pinched, at that. She forced a smile instead of a grimace, and bowed her head. [color=98FB98]“You are worthy already. Now go and carry on your good work.”[/color] She released Seviin and the girl rose, bowing again as she backed away. [color=F0FFF0]“I… I shall, my Lady Vyshta! With your blessing, I [i]shall[/i].”[/color]

Then, she was gone, and Tyrel was alone.

[hr][hr]
[color=696969]“You ready, suunei?”[/color] Chad was fastening the last of his straps. He breathed in and out. Miret, crouched in the darkness some three feet away, glanced his way. [color=9e0039]“[i]You[/i] ready, suunei?”[/color]

He snorted. She smirked faintly, but it faded quickly from her face. Both of them knew how serious this was. Both of them were unhappy that Tyrel hadn’t been cleared to join them. Both of them had a job to do. The floorboards creaked below them and moonlight filtered in through the couple of portholes hewn roughly into the Taol Zaganax’s living timber. They were lucky to have even [i]those.[/i] A rigid curfew on light or excessive noise was being enforced across the fleet. Those who broke it were to be flogged or given to the beasts. So far, no punishments had needed to be handed out. 

Quietly, Miret made the sign of the Pentad. [color=9e0039]“Watch over me, please.”[/color] She glanced Chad’s way. He was more than just the lush’elar of her cousin. [color=9e0039]“Watch over him as well.”[/color] She kissed the little medallion that hung from her neck and breathed: in and out. They had kept her well fed, this third landing of the grey fleet, in both senses. The power that coursed through her arteries was palpable in her movements, her drawing, and her senses. Her eyes gleamed, predatory, in the night. Chad rocked back and forth in nervous anticipation. [color=696969]“For the cause, suunei,”[/color] he assured her, [color=696969]“for the cause.”[/color] he knew, of course, how she felt about ‘the cause’. That was the joke. That was [i]Chad[/i]: half sincere and half mocking, always. 

[b]“For the cause,”[/b] murmured another handful of voices. 

[b]“For the liberation.”[/b]

[b]“Jaadas, juuras, tan’daxii.”[/b] It became a sort of refrain, working its way through the hold, through the members of Shadow Dragon Team. Absently, even Miret joined in. In theory, she often reminded herself, the intent to cure people of a crippling plague and rid them of a corrupt government was a good one. She just had to trust that it was pure, and she did not.

Outside, as the great cannons atop the walls all turned to face the army they thought was coming inland, fifty great ships, each laden with a hundred elite warriors, slipped past the outer harbour defenses, accelerating to unnatural speeds in the grip of magic. In that same grip, they proceeded, invisible to the reserve sentries manning the harbour watchtowers. For a moment, the world brightened, and she knew what it was: the Great Light of Sairax’Solcuun. It fixed upon the Taol Zaganax and she knew what would come next. 

[b]“Moila,”[/b] barked Captain Jurax, [b]“Suunei!”[/b] His nostrils flared and his eyes gleamed. [b]“Brace!”[/b] The great bombards, whose immense weight had taken the better part of a day to be shifted and remounted on the landward walls, could not be repositioned on time but, within moments, the first of the bombardment arrived. The high, keening wail of a siren pierced the night. The cacophonous chiming of church bells began. In the buildings and canopies of Solcuura, she knew that those who had not already evacuated - those who had nowhere to go or no way to get there - were bolting awake in bed, rushing into cellars and streets, arming themselves, huddling together and praying. She squeezed her eyes shut. [color=9e0039][i]I am not your enemy,[/i][/color] she assured them from the depths of the vessel on which she traveled. [color=9e0039][i]I am not here to harm you - I swear it - only your bitch queen and those who would defend her and the other parasites that feast on your people.[/i][/color] She opened her eyes again. [color=9e0039]“I swear it,”[/color] she mouthed under her breath, drawing a brief glance from Chad.

Then, the first arcane lance struck and there was no stopping it. Miret flung herself to the deck as it scythed through the ship. Instantly, Suulet, Darchan, Saldon, and Thevand were vaporized, only the last of them even having the chance to scream. Outside light streamed in through the great blackened wound in the Zaganax and, for the first time, Miret laid eyes upon their target: the Tansan capital of Solcuura. She had memorized the map of it by heart. She had seen paintings and heard it described.

She stood there, transfixed, as the embers where the ship had been carved open glowed orange in the humid night air and cold, slimy water began to pour in through the gaping wound. Nothing had prepared her for the sheer… decrepit majesty of the place. Part tree, part stone, steel, and wood, the nine great towers that gave Solcuura its name rose into the moonlit sky. Three of them: Alax’Alan, Toithiira, and Sen’dan’thuul, the tallest of all save for the light, towered some seven hundred feet above her, colossal even from this distance. Awe inspiring as they were, there was no missing the state they were in either. Asticaan and Leiluunsa leaned against each other, a series of enormous cables and buttresses stabilizing them. A portion of Carsoascan’rai was burnt out and overgrown. Yenteiyon was skeletal in its upper reaches, home to the nests of thousands of seabirds.

She scarcely registered the danger of the magic being flung her way. She scarcely flinched as the cold water washed over her feet. Then, the Great Light pulsed again, and three more ships of the Grey Fleet were split clean in two. The Taol Zaganax! Right! She snapped out of it. The vessel was damaged and she was a binder. Lieutenants Luuran and Canthal were already hard at work, and the others were rallying to the cause. The ship was listing, but she could see the keel below intact. It could yet be saved, at least for long enough to get them to their destination. She picked an area where two others were struggling to stem the flow of water long enough for the wood to be reconstituted, and helped them. Gradually, they won the battle. The Taol Zaganax picked up speed again. A colossal ball of burning stone missed it by mere meters and it was all that they could do to stop the force of the waves from crushing the fragile rebound planks. 

Then, came that fell light again, and its horrid death ray swept across the Grey Fleet, punched through two more vessels. Immediately, in flames, they began to go under. For a moment, it struck Miret how fragile she was. How she, this little thing of flesh and bone, was at the mercy of this ancient titan. Countless attacks of magic and cannonfire alike hammered Sairax’Solcuun, but it had stood since the days of the first Tansan Empire and their most fearsome weapon was defended with everything that the people of this broken place had. Strangely, despite everything she had been assured of - that the Tarlonese were liberators, that most would welcome them, that Sairax’Solcuun had not fired its Death Ray in nearly two centuries and was no longer operational - she could not fault them. They were fighting for their home. Against their liberators.

The top of the pinnacle began to glow once more and the bombardment intensified. [b]“Remember!”[/b] Captain Jurax was shouting, [b]“They fight from fear. They fight for the lies they have been told by the cruel and decadent despot who sucks this land dry. Yet, those who fight -”[/b] A near miss rocked the Zaganax again and Miret drew from the surrounding water to make ice around one of the weak spots. [b]“are the enemy of not only ourselves, but of their own people. Make no mistake, liberators of the yasoi, they are to dealt with accordingly!”[/b]

Then, that terrible tower unleashed once more and everything inside of Miret tightened. If she met the gods now, she would do so with grace. She’d only had eighteen years - how much longer it could’ve and [i]should’ve[/i] been - but there was no helping it. That was all in Vyshta’s and Exiran’s hands. It struck somewhere else, and another ship went to the bottom. There were voices shouting, commands being issued. The captain rushed up top and then, less than a minute later, came rushing back down. [b]“Dragon Unit!”[/b] he barked, and Miret realized that was Chad’s. They shot looks at each other, and no words needed to be exchanged for them to know what would have been spoken: [i]Look after Tyrel for me.[/i]

Eleven of the Grey Fleet’s elites stepped forward. [b]“You have been approved for insertion. This is a moderate-severe risk insertion. Your target -”[/b] He paused to gesture out of the yawning hole in the Zaganax, [b]“is the heat conduit of the Sairax’Solcuun. Lieutenant Loiret will warp you there. You are to overcome local security and secure three levels as a buffer. You are to overload the conduit and extract yourselves via kinetic magic. Is that understood?”[/b]

If they bled anxiety, they also bled eagerness. That vile construct had claimed a great many of their own. They were smarting for revenge. [b]“I obey!”[/b] they shouted as one. [b]“I fight!”[/b]

[b]“Jaadas, juuras, tan’daxii!”[/b] shouted the captain.

[b]“Jaadas, juuras, tan’daxii!”[/b] came the reply, as Loiret worked.

Then, the portal was open and they launched themselves through. Chad was second-last. Miret twisted to look out ahead of them as best she could. Loireth was already at work again. The Zaganax was flooding again. It would not matter. They were close. So long as the Death Ray didn’t burn them down, they would be in the halls of the Ienaphex’bii in little over a minute. Anxiously, as the captain warned them that they might be separated, that resistance might be stiff, that the Queensguard was made up of aberration-mad maniacs who were fanatically loyal to her because she kept them supplied with what they craved, Miret watched the tower. She watched and, silently, she prayed. The pinnacle began to glow. She could see, if she enhanced her vision with magic, the tiny figures moving around up top. She could see the ancient mechanisms - one of the few things actually [i]cared[/i] for in the city - begin to heat up and pivot… towards her. [color=9e0039][i]I’m sorry, Zarina. I would’ve loved you.[/i][/color]

Then, the glowing beacon flickered. It flickered, and the tiny figures around it froze in place. That was for the barest of moments. Loiret was preparing her portal; she was charging up. Then, they began to run. Miret watched as, impossibly, they hurled themselves from the tower. Sairax’Solcuun bulged about the middle, and cracks spidered their way up and down the ancient structure. Thick black smoke began pouring out of them and all that she could think about was Chad. He was [i]there[/i]. Likely, he was part of the cause. Great chunks of stone began to peel off of the sides, and more figures dived desperately from the wounded goliath. Then, all at once, it ruptured. The middle section - some fifty feet of it - blew outwards in a fantastic explosion that forced all within a mile of it to cover their ears and look away. Like blood pouring from a lethal wound, the smoke boiled and billowed outwards, thick and black and spreading. The light at the top went dark and began to tip over. Great chunks splashed into the water below and Miret’thilan watched Sairax’Solcuun buckle and fall after a thousand years as sentry of this place, a great black and orange river of smoke and flame following its tortured descent. For a moment, she nearly forgot about Chad. 

Five hundred feet of stone, steel, and crystal crashed into the water and the wave raised was colossal. It rushed toward the Zaganax and the ship would not survive it. Then, the portal was open. [b]“[i]Through,[/i] Ghost Squad! Through!”[/b] roared the captain. The ships of the Third Grey Fleet bucked and bobbed on the water, two or three capsizing. One - already damaged - turned to splinters. The rest rode it out. [b]“Move! Move! Move, or you’re gonna swim with the rest of us!”[/b]

Silently, Miret thanked the Taol Zaganax for bearing her safely. She thanked the captain for leading with courage and discipline. The others rushed through into the imperial palace. The ship, she knew, would not survive. She crouched low and [i]drew[/i] with every fibre of her being. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes glowed. The Zaganax splintered around her, its fibres becoming her energy, her energy becoming a weapon. The ship began to buck and buckle as the great wave lifted its fragile remnants. Miret launched herself forward, accelerating like an ashbul through the glowing gap. Loiret slipped in beside her. On the other side lay the enemy. Woe be the enemy. 

[hr][hr]