[b]Saynastia, the Dark Dragon![/b]

I unfold from the breath of my daughters. My tails are a shining, luminous fan. I am as vast as a dragon, and my coat is dappled with mocking peacock eyes. I am light in the midst of darkness; I am the story that demands we keep going, keep laughing, keep finding new ways to challenge dragons and maids and heroines and silly boys. My teeth are white and sharp. I am ravenous for this entertainment.

If I am afraid, it is that I will not do right by my Thellamie. If I am afraid, it is a fear of the story ending wrong.

"Fighting me will not bring her back, you know," I purr, with a rustling of tails, with a shuddering wink of eyes. "Defeating me will not make you [i]not a character[/i] any more. Lash out at me all you like - you're still a part of [i]her[/i] story. The tamed nemesis. Do you want more illustrations? More of my [i]attention?[/i]"

And I reach out and pin Hazel Valentine Fletcher under one paw as vast as a chariot, as gentle as the coils of Crevas.

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[b]Yuki![/b]

I can spare a moment for you, my girl. You were such a joy last time. You still are. Some of my eyes are for you, too.

The Rot Star withdraws from this place. Thinking of ways to punish you, to crush around Vespergift all the tighter, to one day make everyone who idolizes you suffer. But all this does is make the dark forest mundane, ordinary, thick and pressing all around. Safer to travel through. You could take Hazel by the hand and walk with him through strange and unfamiliar woods until you come to the place he is seeking, whatever that might be.

At your feet is a heap of broken branches, dried flowers, and a mushroom as vast as a heart. Bits of white bone can be glimpsed under the leaves, the wood, and the petals.

You're at two for two for foiling Fallen Stars, my dear. You might even make it to four by the end of this, if I'm not careful in how I set you against Miaou's champion.

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[b]Eclair Espoir![/b]

You are owed clues. You are owed many clues, but one shall have to suffice here, as shining-eyed Mayzie takes your hand, her fingers interlacing with yours. Because you can never turn that mind of yours off. Ah, if only I had thought to set you against someone who could set those thoughts of yours to fuzzy, confused buzzing, and then to peaceful bliss and purring. You have Mayzie, whose passion shines against yours, but she will never be able to be a thick blanket to drown out your thoughts.

Well. Not unless both of you learn how. It would be something to approach with intentionality, with intensity, with gentleness. But I digress.

The false maids are quite evidently Serigalamu. Moreover, the tattoos worked onto their necks, peering out from over their lace collars, indicate that they are associated with the Khatun and her huntress-regime. The Civil Church is one of the most powerful organizations in Thellamie, but it is a loose and passive power, and the Khaganate would be well-equipped to exploit a Church in disarray.