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Reclined in the saddle once again, Antigone had a battered journal resting on her knee while she wrote on the rough pages. Each stroke of her pencil was timed to her mount’s gait with practiced ease as she made note of her encounter with the insectoid Outsider. That complex construct could prove to be an invaluable asset to her father’s cult, and if the bug that accompanied it refused to comply with her instructions, that would be the last act of freedom it would ever have. Her father’s influence spread through every pocket of civilization across the sands. There would be nowhere that the bug could hide from the thousand eyes of the family. Antigone, and all of her siblings, and all of their progeny would hunt it everywhere, until they had taken its mechanical pet, everything it knew, and finally, its very life.  

Useful’s wide, flat feet kicked up just enough desert dust for her to feel the finest grit in her nose and between her teeth, so every few minutes she had to pause and knock sand from between its pages, then tighten the cloth mask around her face. While her fingers worked the fabric of her mask, her amber eyes looked to the dark, violet sky and studied the familiar constellations that had begun to sink below the horizon, telling her there wasn’t long left in her journey. She tied her journal closed with the cord fastened to its leather spine, tucking the pencil against the cover and stuffed the bundle back into her rucksack. As she buckled the pack again, Useful’s ears perked and swiveled forward. 

The Strider groaned long and low, and Antigone knew her mount had heard the cries of predators calling out to each other in the night. Moments later, she could hear them, too, and the uncanny howls sent a churning wave of primordial terror twisting through her. Antigone turned her eyes upward and watched stars blink out of sight behind the shadow of many wings. Many more than she’d ever heard, she grimly realized even as she drew in a deep breath and sought to calm the fearful thunder pounding in her chest.

The shrieking chorus flew onwards to meet her, quieting as they passed overhead. Her gaze still followed the whisper of their rustling wings while the flock banked and wheeled around into a wide circle above her. As her head turned to track them, she glimpsed a lone silhouette suddenly cross the low face of the red moon as it peeled away from the others. Descending rapidly, its shape melded into the dark sky and disappeared from Antigone’s sight. 

A frown formed behind her mask.

She had seen the winged grotesques that Shyss Canak called his ‘Watchers’ many times, and she’d never seen one break formation before.

With a sharp whip of the reins against Useful’s neck, Antigone urged her mount into a barreling run towards the dim lights ahead, where the miserable little village that surrounded the Spire barely made a yellow-orange smear in the night. The clustered buildings would provide protection, she hoped, from the rogue abomination flying unseen somewhere overhead.  She was close enough to see people ambling about the village when the Watcher came into view again, its underside illuminated by lanterns lining the narrow streets below. It passed so close over the villagers heads that she heard them scream as they threw themselves prone on the sand and covered their heads, for all the good that instinct would do them if the creature chose to snatch them in its taloned grasp.  

It was nearly upon Antigone then, and she pulled hard on the reins in a desperate attempt to turn Useful away from the wretched thing. The Watcher shifted its posture to land just ahead of her, and the gust from its folding wings sprayed sand into the air around it. Antigone’s arm came up to shield her eyes, dropping the reins just as Useful gave a fearful bellow. The beast reared, reeling away from Canak’s abomination. Antigone nearly fell from the saddle, her fingers barely grasping its edge. When Useful’s flailing feet slammed down onto the sand again, the breath was knocked from Antigone’s lungs. Before she had even a second to steady herself in the saddle again, her mount lurched into a panicked sprint away from the Watcher. 

The terrified Strider bolted towards the open desert while Antigone strained to pull herself upright. Her small form was continually tossed about with the beast’s wild strides until she managed to reposition her legs beneath herself again. She lunged forward, snatched the reins, and heaved. The beast bellowed again, this time with pain, as the peg in its nose began to tear the tender flesh and gave it no choice but to turn back towards the Spire. 

Facing the Watcher again, Antigone could barely discern that it was hobbling towards her. Though its folded wings made for clumsy forelimbs on the ground and slowed its progress, it had ignored the easier prey and let all of the villagers flee unscathed. It was undoubtedly after her, then.

[i][color=ed145b]…what does this damned thing want with me…[/color][/i]

For every step that the Watcher crawled towards them, Useful grew more obviously apprehensive. [b][color=f6989d]“Steady, steady…”[/color][/b] Antigone muttered to her mount even as she braced for the stamping, grunting Strider to bolt again.

[i][color=ed145b]…it isn’t behaving like a mindless animal, so it must still be under its master’s control… [/color][/i] 

[color=f6989d][b]“What’s your game, Canak?”[/b][/color] Antigone called out, crouching in the saddle and unsheathing her dagger in a single motion. She made no effort to conceal the blade and let its serpentine curves catch what little light there was. [color=f6989d][b]“I know you can see and hear through these… things.” [/b][/color]

The Watcher continued to approach, leant forwards on its clawed knuckles. Leathery wings hung in deep folds at its sides. Antigone had never seen one so close, and already she wished she hadn’t. She couldn’t keep the revulsion from her own face as she looked at its snub-snouted, canine visage. Its primary eyes stared at her while the others turned independently in every direction, reflecting the moons’ light in a dozen iridescent hues. It sat back on scaled haunches that ended in taloned toes.

A grating, wheezing sound came from its mouth and brought her attention back to its face. Its mouth was curled at the corners, forming a horrid smirk. The wheezes settled into a rhythm that was, she realized, somehow familiar.  

[color=ed145b][i]…it’s… laughing… it’s laughing at me, and it sounds like…[/i][/color]

[color=f6989d][b]“Sohteth!?”[/b][/color] Antigone blurted out as the thought formed. Her stance relaxed, however hesitantly, and sheathed her dagger with a huff. Her tone was less bewildered and more exasperated when she spoke again. [color=f6989d][b]“You’ve learned some new and terrible trick, haven’t you?” [/b][/color]