Shrike was hot.

It was an unfamiliar sensation. She was accustomed to feeling the Fringe’s icy breath lance across her exposed face. Even now, howling winds nipped at the young woman's pale cheeks, but they were no match for the pillar of roaring flame she and her clansmen huddled around. It had taken them many hours to gather enough wood to summon the dancing conflagration, but they had performed the task without a single complaint.

The Guang clan failed to maintain their stoicism when they fed their dead to the gluttonous pyre. The scent of burning flesh wrapped in old parkas drifted into Shrike’s nostrils. She scrunched her nose but maintained her composure. Young as she may have been, she was no stranger to death.

Still, no amount of hardship could have prepared her for the carnage she had witnessed this morning. It was difficult to fathom that the pulverized meat cooking within the fire used to be her clansmen.

Their fallen had only burned for ten minutes when a flock of sheathbills intruded upon the scenes. The mourners glared at the carrion birds. The lowly scavengers would be hard-pressed to salvage any meat from the blazing pyre, but their arrival would herald the approach of more formidable and hostile creatures.

Cursing the Fringe’s relentless cruelty, the Guangs marched off.

******

Every zeraph hoped to be properly cremated, but incinerating the remains had always just been a prelude to the actual funeral. Last rites always took place near an altar or a sacred site. The stone slab that Shrike’s clan congregated around was about as majestic as any other rock. A highly stylized serpent etched on the flat boulder’s side was the only thing that distinguished it from its neighbors.

Shrike tapped her foot impatiently as they awaited the night’s arrival. Raya’s second eye drifted at an agonizingly slow pace. Since the conclusion of the great war, the deity of light, life, and infections allocated more light to Manu’s western "thumb" in an effort to undo the damage done to it. So far, the only thing her doting accomplished was plague the wastes with undead husks.

She was not the only one sick of Raya’s stalling. His patience spent, Seiradan, the god of stability, air, and water, made his discontent known. Up in the stratosphere, the layer of gas shielding Manu from the Primordial’s eldritch touch, Baetyle’s mischief, and Raya’s smothering, thickened. Unwilling to escalate tensions with her peer, Raya finally allowed the blue sun to dip out of the sky.

As if the land itself celebrated her departure, four contrails of light snaked across the heavens. Mesmerizing as the phenomenon was, it was difficult to appreciate its beauty given its steep price. Every soul-bearing creature beneath the night sky let out a collective wheeze as slivers of bright energy flowed out of their bodies and merged with the swirling auroras. The gluttonous Old Ones wasted no time in absorbing their share of the extracted qi.

Drained zeraphs struggled to catch their breaths. Shrike, able to recover faster than most, gazed upon the heavens.

Magnificent constellations decorated the night sky. The celestial patterns had not simply formed by chance; each was a physical manifestation of a greater deity’s power and influence. Enkengelion’s crown—the rings of rock orbiting the planet—conveniently divided most of the outer gods into two groups.

Compared to the cluttered east, the Koshukan Pantheon was an archipelago of starlight surrounded by a black ocean. Centuries ago, most of the tianlongs that once filled the western skies were laid low during Aladenka’s spiteful rampage. The four that still retained their divinity grappled with vicious upstarts aiming to abscond or slay their worshippers.

Kanghui, the most prominent knowledge god and founder of the zonoid empire, calmly oversaw the conflict. Although he was focused on regaining control over his home continent, the end of the great serpent’s tail crossed Enkengelion’s rings, a reminder that he still had sights on Vaaloca.

Shrike looked at her creator with adoration. She did not doubt that one day, the entire world would be under his guidance.

Kanghui was not the only deity that breached the border between the east and the west. It was said that Shiagaur, the goddess of savagery, was the first to establish sects on both continents. Though her terrestrial followers were gradually losing ground to the civilized races, she had great pull with the sea folk, most of whom had a limited capacity to fashion tools.

Shrike tore her gaze away from Shiagaur’s bestial form. Just looking at the regressive goddess infuriated her. Her eyes then fell upon an even more insidious cluster of orange stars. Viros, the god of curses and vengeance, was another deity whose clout was not confined to a single continent. If Kanghui was an inferno, then Viros was a flickering ember. How such a repugnant and comparatively minor deity cultivated significant bases on both continents was beyond Shrike.

Afraid that she would somehow catch the capricious god’s eye, she turned her attention toward the moons. Nearly a hundred of the lunar satellites orbited Manu, and every night, their beauty enraptured her. Her favorite was Typhon, a large one covered in green landmasses shaped like snarling reptiles.

Shrike knew the stories. The moons portended disaster that made Baetyle’s asteroid collisions seem mild by comparison. Yet, a childish part of her wished another one would crash into the planet just so she could encounter the alien life forms that emerged from the crater.

“Oh, benevolent creator, our gratitude towards you knows no bounds!” A graying priest named Brantus kneeled before the altar with his tail held high and his hands clasped together. The rest of the clan mimicked the gesture. All save one. From the periphery of her vision, Shrike saw her father snort derisively. Brantus chose to ignore his blatant impiety.

“You have given us so much, but we beseech your forgiveness, for we desperately need your kindness again! We ask that you guide our fallen brothers and sisters to your realm and grant them the peace they could not find in life!”

Several zeraphs stood up and gently placed their loved one’s cracked soul gems on the altar.

“We would not be so shameless as to request your help without providing a gift in return! Please, accept our offerings!”

A hunter named Strix deposited a handful of yak and leopard gems across from their deceased clan member’s remains.

Kanghui’s portrait glowed. The beast stones combusted. Soul gems belonging to the fallen Guangs shined brighter than newly polished rubies before fading out of existence.

Shrike had not been close to any of the men or women that died, but she felt an ache in her heart as she watched their spiritual remains leave the material world. She wondered whether they would choose to rest in the jade citadel or try to be reincarnated. When she was certain no one was paying attention to her. She glanced in her father’s direction. Her sire acknowledged her with a faint nod. He waved at her, silently encouraging her to abandon communion.

Shrike remained with the others and prayed to Kanghui until she collapsed.

******

“How will we kill it?”

Lammergeier let out an incredulous chuff. He was built like the plateau they stood upon— ancient, yet still strong and without cracks.

“We don’t. He is far beyond us. Not even an imperial dragon would stand a chance.” Shrike flinched at her father’s blasphemous verbiage.

The thing they observed was more mountain than animal. Towering over the tallest tree, Kaaslithe—a name that roughly translated as ‘the silent death’ in the luddite language—was the lord of these frigid coasts. Equally, at home on land and in water, nothing was safe from the titan’s insatiable appetite. Although its stubby legs almost seemed to move in slow motion, the sheer length of its stride enabled it to bridge the distance between it and its prey.

It's outlandishly long neck struck like pale lightning.

Hate adorned Shrike’s face as she watched the eel-faced reptile gulp down a yak.

“But it killed our clan mates,” Shrike protested.

“They shouldn’t have encroached on its hunting grounds.”

“It killed mother,” she reminded him.

Lammergeier’s eyes hardened. “Don’t be an idiot! Are you going to throw your life away, trying to avenge a woman you’ve never met?”

“Don’t act like she was just some stranger to me! She was my flesh and blood!”

“Flesh and blood that has long since disappeared in the belly of that beast. Why do you care now? You haven’t asked about her in years.”

Shrike stared at her boots. She chided herself for being unable to withstand her father’s angry gaze. “I saw what happened to our clan mates that day. It didn’t eat any of them. They just got in its way.” When she finally mustered the nerve to look her father in the eye, all she saw was the back of his head. “That’s how mother died, isn’t it? She didn’t lure it away from our camp like you said. There was no sacrifice, she was just—”

“Collateral damage.” Lammergeier bitterly admitted. “Does that revelation change anything? Do you think less of her now that you know she died an ignominious death instead of a heroic one?”

“She must be avenged!”

“Do you think you’re the only one that wished death upon it? How could we possibly kill it when its flesh is impenetrable and it can stomach the most virulent of poisons?” His scornful gaze grew colder. “But this sudden desire for revenge isn’t about your mother, is it? It’s about wounded pride.”

Shrike clenched her fist. She wanted to deny that aspersion, to tell her father that he knew nothing about her, but there was truth to his words. “How can you stand it, knowing that my mother—that your other half was crushed like an insect?”

Lammergeier had always been a harsh guardian, but he had never hit her. When tomorrow came, his record would remain unblemished, but it had been a near thing.

“A mouse can only survive a fox if it remains unseen. Don’t waste any more energy on that monster. You’ll only die stupidly.”

Shrike shook her head. “No, I won't stand for it. We are not mice or insects doomed to cower beneath the tread of giants. We are zeraphs, the greatest of the humans and Kanghui’s favorite children! You might have given up on our people, but we will restore the empire that was lost in your day. And one day I will offer Kaaslithe’s heart to Kanghui.”

Her father sneered. “If the thought of keeping your head low to the ground is so loathsome, maybe you should stop kowtowing to that lying wyrm.” He trudged off before she could retort and left her alone with vengeful fantasies.

******

Volatile blizzards, hordes of worm-ridden husks, barbaric luddites, and a gluttonous titan may have been the type of perils that kept Shrike awake at night, but the greatest threat to the Guang clan’s existence was of a more mundane sort.

Starvation.

Perpetual snow was anathema to most forms of life, and the frost that had overtaken this region two centuries ago had come without warning. To this day, the ecosystem had not recovered. Each day was a struggle to find enough food. Their situation worsened whenever Kaaslithe emerged from the oceans and depleted the best hunting grounds.

Shrike was coping better than most. Within a few hours of foraging, a grouse and a brace of rabbits hung from her belt. She had just chased a lynx off its kill when her father tapped her on the shoulder.

“Take those kills back to camp and then follow me.”

Shrike inspected the duiker carcass she had stolen. Its chest was badly gnawed, but there was still enough meat on it to feed a family.

“Where are we going?”

“Hunting.”

“That’s what I am doing now.”

“The others found something that will feed us for weeks.”

“They are inviting me on a hunt?”

“They’ll need all the help they can get to haul back this one.” Shrike’s grin fell, but she did as her father asked.

The air seemed to grow even chillier when father and daughter convened with the rest of the hunting party.

“It’s bad enough that I have to hunt with that heathen mongrel—I have to endure his hellspawn’s presence too?” A grizzled hunter snarled.

“She is an accomplished hunter. Sixteen years and already far superior to you, Bateleur.”

“Enough!” another hunter interceded before Bateleur threw himself at Shrike’s father. “We have enough to worry about as is. Lammergeier, are you sure your daughter won’t get in the way?”

“She’ll pull her weight.”

Lammergeier was many things, but no one would ever accuse him of nepotism or incompetence.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

The grumbling hunters marched with the grace of pouting toddlers. Their lack of focus surprised Shrike. No wonder their people were always hungry.

“Why are we forming a hunting party? Wouldn’t we find more food if we split up?” Shrike whispered.

“Finding our quarry will be easy,” her father responded. “Bringing it back will be the real challenge.”

“What exactly are we hunting?”

To her frustration, her father refused to elaborate. Three miles into their journey, they passed a tree covered in tusk marks and gouges.

“This is dobuwana territory.”

Her father shot her a stern look. “Don’t think about it too much.”

“I am not scared.” Shrike declared testily.

Lammergeiers’ forehead creased as he studied her face.

“You should be. A pinch of caution will help keep you alive. Just remember, it’s them or us.”

They spotted their quarry twenty minutes later. It was the first time Shrike had gotten a good look at a dobuwana while it still drew breath. The creature was as strange as it was huge. An elongated nose slithered between the pair of long tusks jutting out of both sides of its face.

Her stomach gurgled at the thought of how much fresh meat its carcass would yield. She lost her appetite when she crept within two hundred paces of the animal and got a whiff of its scent.

“We’re going to eat that?”

“They coat themselves in dung whenever Kaaslithe migrates here,” her father explained. “It is the only way they can avoid being eaten.” Shrike blanched, wondering if starvation might be preferable.

“Don’t be fussy. We’ll wash it once we bring it down. Now stop talking. A dobuwana can hear a clumsy footstep from five hundred paces away.”

The animal’s great size and stench had made it complacent. It wasn’t until a dozen arrows pierced its furred backside did it realize the peril it was in. The pachyderm’s shriek of pain was curiously high-pitched for a creature of its size.

Enraged, the creature uttered a deep growl more in line with its appearance. It lowered its head and charged. Terrible as the dobuwana’s fury was to behold, its blitz accomplished nothing.

Its predators, outfitted in white furs, blended in with the landscape. Anytime the dobuwana approached an archer’s position, the bowman would simply lay himself flat whilst another drew its attention.

“The arrows are piercing it,” a hunter lying near Shrike said in relief.

“This will be an easy kill if it’s not a barkhide.”

Shrike’s eyes widened. “If it’s not a barkhide?” she repeated, a disquieting realization now dawning on her.

Lammergeier’s atlatl practically disappeared within the dobuwana’s side. His target stumbled and then crashed to the ground. The gurgling dobuwana tried to rise, refusing to accept its doom.

“Finish it off. Don’t let it draw any unwanted attention,” Lammergeier ordered. He shook his head when several young hunters let out a battle cry before they hurled their spears. When Shrike tossed her weapon, her hood flopped off, exposing her bright red hair. The dobuwana’s tiny eyes homed in on this sudden splash of color. Mustering the last of its strength, the dobuwana let out a bellow and charged.

Shrike tried to calm her beating heart and drew another dart from her quiver. Even at its best, the dobuwana wouldn’t have been able to catch her.

“Damn dragon worshipers!” the bleeding elephant screamed in zostian.

Shrike froze. She always wondered why her clan avoided talking about dobuwanas even as they dined upon their flesh. She understood the implication of her father’s earlier comment, but only now did that realization truly sink in. The shock and self-loathing that rooted her in place quickly morphed into tranquil fury when she remembered which god the dobuwana had pledged allegiance to.

“Die, you filthy luddite!” Shrike hissed. The dobuwana was only two body lengths away when Shrike’s dart buried itself into his knee. He cried out in pain as he skidded across the ground. Shrike just barely leapt out of the way.

Shrike didn’t get away completely unscathed. She winced and bit back a yell when a bony set of knuckles came down on the top of her head.

“A few moments slower and you would have been crushed.” Her father’s voice didn’t change in either pitch or volume, but his eyes shone with a cold fury. For once, his anger brought a smile to her face. She couldn’t recall the last time he showed concern for her being. Her happiness abated when her eyes flicked back towards the dobuwana.

“Are we really going to eat him?”

“Of course we will!” Bateleur scoffed. “Why else would we have gone through all this trouble?”

“But it talked.”

“It’s just an animal!” the scarred man insisted. “Now stop jabbering and help us skin it, you wench!” Bateleur buried a knife into the dobuwana’s shoulder. He drew back in surprise when the pachyderm shrieked in protest.

“It’s still alive!”

Lammergeier was unsurprised by the dobuwana stubbornness. “Not for long.” He snatched a heavy thrusting spear from another hunter’s grasp and approached the fading creature.

“Please,” the dobuwana rasped. “No.”

Lammergeier plunged the spear into the dobuwana’s eye. It let out one last gasp and expired. Once Lammergeier was certain that it was dead, he ran his hands against the dobuwana’s temple. His fingers came back wet and sticky. “This one was in musth,” he declared. “We can take our time butchering his corpse. Shrike, help me skin the trunk.”

When she knelt beside him, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me they could talk?”

He waved a fistful of dirty green fur in her face. She gagged at the smell. “Your eyes should have told you.”

“I’ve also seen green fishes and birds. I suppose they were luddites too?”

“Killing a sapient can weigh on a person’s mind. There would have been no burden if you remained ignorant.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t lose any sleep over this. If anything, I’ll rest easier knowing there is one less luddite in the world. Eating them is a different story.” She dropped her skinning knife. “This feels wrong.”

“That’s because it is, but the world we live in is a callous one. Do not offer mercy when none can be expected back.”

******

Hunting dobuwanas proved to be an untenable prospect. Once they realized that isolated bulls were being picked off, the local herds kept vigil over even the most rage-addled tuskers and armed themselves with throwing clubs.

The Guangs decided to forage on higher grounds after one of those bludgeons brained a young woman.

At first glance, The Fringe’s mountains looked to be a perfect hunting ground. It provided a suitable habitat for herds of caprids while also protecting them from the Silent Death. However, the problem with prime hunting grounds was that they were rarely unclaimed.

Shrike had just slung a lamb on her shoulder when a mob of wild red-haired men rushed their position. Lammergeier was the dam that kept the green tide from sweeping the hunting party off the mountain. A neanderthal went down to a perfect headshot. The first arrow had scarcely found its mark when another buried itself in a man’s chest. Moments later, a third neanderthal clutched a shaft protruding from her neck. Her strangled cries for help broke the luddite charge.

“Murderers! Filthy dragon worshipping murderers!” a one-eyed neanderthal screamed in their tongue.

Shrike put an arrow through the cyclops’ remaining eye.

The other neanderthals swore vengeance, but their backward scuttling retreat undid the menace of their threats.

Zeraphs scurried over to the corpses, knives in hand. Lammergeier sneered.

“We must leave now. They may come back in greater numbers.”

“We need these soul gems,” Shrike argued, though she couldn’t bring herself to touch the neanderthals. “We haven’t offered Kanghui a proper sacrifice in months and we’re in desperate need of another miracle.”

Shrike heard the rant going on in her father’s head before he voiced them. ‘If your god loved us, why must we bribe him to get his attention?’ Thankfully, Lammergeier realized this was no time to pick a fight. He passed her an axe and shouldered her lamb.

“Destroy their limbs. Green skins may be barbarians, but even they don’t deserve to be reanimated.”

Shrike looked down at the nearest corpse and blanched. Bateleur, who had already opened two neanderthals, shot her a scornful look.

******

Shrike awoke to the sounds of screaming.

A scarred neanderthal was the first thing that entered her field of vision. He was crouched directly over her, a cudgel raised high above his head. Shrike rolled out of the way just in time. She grabbed the spear she kept at her side and jabbed its point into the man’s belly. The luddite stumbled back; hands pressed against the wound. He stared at his palms as if he had never seen blood before. A thrust to his eye ensured that his bloodied hands were the last thing he saw.

Shrike’s concerns immediately shifted to her father. She burst out of her tent to come to his aid.

He didn’t need it.

The ancient warrior was a blur of motion. A field of qi wreathed his body, turning his crude spear into a weapon worthy of legend. He cut down a neanderthal with every stab and swipe. His opponents’ weapons thudded into the ground where he had been standing moments before.

The rest of the clan wasn’t faring as well. An appalling number had been slain during the initial surprise attack. Guangs that regained their bearings found themselves encircled or swarmed.

In the end, Shrike’s appearance proved to be the deciding factor. Shouting a wordless battle cry, she skewered a frost-bitten brute from behind. His companions stared at her aghast. Small as she was, her resemblance to Lammergeier was obvious. Unnerved at the prospect of fighting not just one, but two warriors, the neanderthals scattered.

“Gather your things!” Brantus shouted. “We’re moving the instant we’ve tended to the wounded.”

Shrike was quick to lend aid to anybody in need of it. She applied pressure to bleeding wounds, made makeshift bandages, and pinned down squirming patients in need of stitches. All save the most critically wounded shooed her away. More than once, she was tempted to abandon her self-imposed duties, but she continued to offer her help. If the ingrates preferred to risk infection than accept her help, so be it. At least nobody could accuse her of not trying.

Wiping saliva off her face, she approached a bleeding woman leaning against a log.

“Do you need any help?” she asked, ready to dodge another glob of spit. The older woman, who she now recognized as Gymnoris, struggled to lift her head.

“Don’t waste your energy,” a familiar voice proclaimed. “Her stomach has been pierced. The only way she will recover is if she forms a pact with Raya.”

“No,” the injured woman rasped, though Shrike couldn’t tell whether she was denying Lammergeier’s assessment or the idea that she would surrender her soul to Raya’s vile clutches.

Shrike gazed down at Gymnoris. She had not been any kinder to her than the others, but she acted as if her pain were her own.

“Is there nothing we can do for her?”

“I offered to put an end to her suffering. The coward refused.”

“I will not go yet!” Gymnoris hissed. “Not until I’ve passed down my legacy!”

“Legacy?” Lammergeier repeated scornfully. “What stories do you have worth sharing? You spent your whole life looking for food and shivering in the cold. You have no grand accomplishments to your name. Accept your fate or be briefly remembered as someone who was afraid to.”

“No!”

Lammergeier shook his head. “Leave her be. She is a lost cause.”

Shrike knelt in front of Gymnoris and offered her hand. “Share your memories with me.”

“What?” Gymnoris and Lammergeier said at the same time.

“You-you’d really be willing to do that?” Gymnoris whispered hopefully.

Her father’s disbelief was of a much harsher kind. “Why would you risk losing some of your memories to preserve her vacuous recollections?”

“My mind is strong. I will absorb our clan mate’s memories without corrupting my own.”

She could hear her father’s teeth grinding. “You owe nothing to that craven cur! She had nothing but contempt for you!” Gymnoris looked down guiltily.

Shrike sighed, but continued to hold out her hand.

Lammergeier threw up his hands in exasperation. “Do as you wish!”

“Are you ready?” Shrike asked.

Gymnoris reached for her hand but drew back at the last second. “No, your father’s right. It would be shameless of me to foist my bitter recollections on a young soul whose company I spurned.”

Shrike sat down beside her. “I can preserve your memories another way. Please, keep me company during dinner! I am tired of hearing nothing but lectures.”

******

Gymnoris’ story was an unremarkable one. She told Shrike of her childhood dream of escaping the fringe and finding warm fertile lands. It was a fantasy everyone in the Fringe imagined and eventually outgrew. Gymnoris’ escapism, however, died a particularly painful death along with her family, when they starved during a famine induced by the Silent Death. Wracked with guilt, she vowed to grow stronger, so she’d never experience that helplessness again. She flashed Shrike a sad, self-deprecating grin when she recalled all the grueling exercise regimens and humiliating rituals she subjected herself to. None of her efforts bore fruit.

“No matter how hard things got, I kept trudging. I thought if I just kept walking, I would eventually end up in a better place. Decades of disappointment roll by and it all leads up to me being skewered by a savage armed with a sharpened stick.” Tears rolled down her eyes. “What a miserable existence.”

Shrike could not think of any words to comfort her guest, so she just listened.

“Maybe your father is right,” she murmured hours later. “About Kanghui. About the tianlongs.”

“Don’t say that!” Shrike hissed. “Our ability to link with another is proof that we still have Kanghui’s favor!”

Gymnoris was too tired to argue. “I’m cold.”

When Shrike draped another blanket over her, she told Gymnoris, “Kanghui still loves us. I know life is hard, but just remember that our devotion will pay off in the end.”

Lammergeier was waiting outside. “I take it the coward is not ready yet?”

“Why are you being so cruel to her? She deserves some compassion!”

“She would have carved out your heart without a moment’s hesitation if your situations were reversed. More importantly, she’ll slow you down.”

Shrike flexed her arms. “I could still keep pace with the others if I carried her on my back. With the sled, she’s no burden at all.”

“Your strength would be better served carrying supplies.”

“I am not going to abandon a clansman in need.”

******

“Who do you think is the best-looking man in our clan?”

“Probably your dad.”

Shrike would have playfully punched Gymnoris’ shoulder if she wasn’t so injured.

“Come on, be serious.”

“I am. It’s amazing what that blue blood does for him. He still has a physique worthy of a king. Shame that he is an insufferable ass.”

“Hey, I know he can be…. difficult to deal with, but he’s still my father.”

“Apologies, I meant no disrespect. Well, which boy catches your fancy?”

“Uh, I’ve always thought Ninox had a striking set of eyes.”

“Didn’t he used to throw rocks at you?”

“No, that was his brother.” In truth, Ninox wasn’t much kinder to her than his younger sibling was, but she couldn’t deny that he was a handsome young man.

Their banter went on for several more hours. When night approached, Shrike reluctantly put their conversation on hold.

“Twilight already?”

“Hours do tend to fly by when you’re in good company.”

Shrike beamed. Brimming with goodwill, she scooped up a bundle of bandages. “Let’s redress your wounds before the old ones make their collection.”

Gymnoris leaned away. “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s cold.”

“You didn’t let me change them this morning either. Your recovery these past two days has been amazing, but we can’t get careless. You don’t want to get sick again, do you?”

“It’s fine!” she insisted, arms tightly wrapped around her parka and blankets. “I changed them myself when you were out foraging.” She held up her hands when Shrike gave her a stern almost motherly look. “I swear I did! Please stop treating me like a child.”

Unwilling to risk her only friendship, Shrike let her be. “Alright, but there’s no shame in accepting help.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Shrike. I wouldn’t have made it this long if it weren’t for your kindness, but I am a grown woman and I have my pride.”

Shrike gave her an understanding nod. “Do you think you’ll be able to attend the congregation?”

“I think it’d be wise if I spent another day or two resting.”

“In that case, I’ll pray to the tianlongs on your behalf.” A look of chagrin flitted across Gymnoris’ face when she uttered that statement. Shrike noticed the grimace, but assumed she was just reacting to pain that had flared up at a bad time.

Shrike never expected a reward or any commendation for nursing Gymnoris, but she had hoped the rest of the clan would have warmed up to her at least. To her dismay, the others still treated her like a pariah. If anything, their suspicion of her had only heightened. When she took her place at the prayer session, Brantus stared at her as if she stood accused of some grave crime.

“Where is Gymnoris?”

“She is resting, your eminence.”

“Curious. I’ve been told that Gymnoris has been rather animated as of late. Seems odd that she is not willing to share some of that newfound energy with the tianlongs.”

“With respect, she’s still badly wounded. It’s a miracle that she’s been recovering at all.”

“A miracle provided by who?” Lammergeier demanded.

“Pardon?”

Brantus showed obvious offense at Lammergeier’s unsolicited input but allowed the misotheist to take over the interrogation.

“When’s the last time you looked at her injuries?”

“Last twilight.”

“You didn’t redress her wounds today?”

“She told me she already did.”

“Did she now?”

Lammergeier strode towards Shrike’s tent, spear in hand. Shrike grabbed his wrist. He flinched at her touch.

“What’s going on?”

“Burn your clothes and wash yourself thoroughly. You will not want to see this.”

“No! She wouldn’t!” Lammergeier pulled his hand out her slack grip.

Armed men formed a ring around Shrike’s tent.

“Gymnoris, come out!” Brantus had to repeat the order three times before Gymnoris poked her head outside.

“What do you need?”

“Get out here and show us your wound.”

“Why? It’s cold and I am still unwell.”

“You’ll be dead if you continue to defy me!”

Several archers readied their bows.

Gymnoris retreated back inside. Heavy footfalls followed the sound of ripping canvas.

“After her!” Brantus shrieked.

The chase went on longer than it should have. Gymnoris may have been wounded, but her pursuers were hampered by their unwillingness to touch her or employ lethal force without Brantus’ permission.

In the end, those advantages were not enough. Gymnoris eyes darted wildly as her pursuers boxed her in.

“This is your last chance,” Brantus yelled. “Disrobe. Now!”

Lammergeier rolled his eyes. “Just shoot her already. It’s obvious why she ran.”

“I must be certain! Disrobe!”

Seeing no avenue for escape, Gymnoris slowly peeled off the layers of fur and cloth wrapped around her torso. Shrike’s last meal boiled back up when she saw what she had been hiding. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the oozing pustules that pockmarked her chest or the clump of worms wriggling within her gaping belly wound.

“How?” Shrike cried. “Her body wasn’t like that yesterday!”

“Raya can get a lot done in fifty hours.” Her father answered. “Stubborn girl. I told you that you didn’t want to see this.”

Varicose veins bulged from Brantus’ neck. “Damn you, Gymnoris! Why have you done this?”

The plague-ridden woman returned the priest’s glare measure for measure. “You would ask me that? You who had given me up for dead? I was a loyal devotee! I offered Kanghui and the tianlongs the fruits of my labor! I sang their praises for decades! Yet, where were they when my wounds wept? With but a single plea, I have received more attention from Raya than I ever got from those deceitful dragons!”

That last word incensed Brantus beyond measure. “Kill the heretic! Carve her heart out so we can feed her treacherous soul to Kanghui!”

Mindful of crossfire, the Guangs eschewed their bows in favor of spears. They methodically closed in on Gymnoris, eager to kill her but unwilling to risk getting any of her pestilent blood on themselves.

Suddenly, Gymnoris’ panic evaporated from her face. “Lay down your arms, brothers! You do not want to do this!”

“No one will shed any tears over you, traitor!” Brantus snarled.

Gymnoris’ self-assured grin was slimier than the worms in her belly. “I’m glad to say that is not true. My new friends would dearly miss my company.” The parasites affirmed this statement with a loud vibrating rumble that made the Guangs flinch. “And their friends would be very cross if you harmed us.”

Answering roars rang out from all sides. Shrike ventured a glance over her shoulder. It struck fear into her heart. A group of disturbing creatures shambled towards them. At first she mistook the first figure for a flayed man, but upon closer inspection, what appeared to be the thing’s muscles turned out to be a network of corpse worms puppeteering a neanderthal’s skeleton. Some of the other reanimated corpses retained more of their original body mass. One yak might have passed off as a living animal if it weren’t for the clump of worms squirming within its eye sockets.

Lammergeier’s authoritative voice anchored the terrified zeraphs. “Don’t let them unnerve you! It is but one gestalt divided amongst several bodies! Destroy one vessel and the rest will be crippled!”

Gymnoris glowered at him. “That may be the case, but they pilot enough bodies to bring at least one of you down. See reason friends, what does striking me down accomplish? You cannot afford to make any more enemies.”

“She’s right.” Heads snapped towards Shrike. She refused to meet their gaze. “This all happened because we provoked the neanderthals. They might still be trying to track us down and the dobuwanas will be looking for payback too. I don’t want to start a war with Raya or the Worm King on top of all that.”

“Listen to her! She speaks sense!” Gymnoris said.

“Shut your mouth, Gymnoris!” Shrike seethed. “Just shut up and slink to whatever dark hole those monsters crawled out of!”

Brantus’ contemptuous gaze flicked between Shrike and Gymnoris as if he could not decide who he despised more. “Do you swear that you and your foul allies will leave us be if we spare your miserable life?”

“I swear to mother Raya that my allies and I will leave you in peace if you do not attack us.”

“Fine! But if you ever have the temerity to show your face to us again, we will peel it off! Come brothers, let us return to camp before the Old Ones tolls are upon us.”

Shrike trailed after the others but halted when Gymnoris called out to her. “I am sorry I deceived you, Shrike, but I had no choice.”

“Yes, you did! You had a chance to leave this world with your honor and dignity intact. Instead, you chose to do this!”

“I was not ready to die. Surely you understand that?” When she did not answer, she took a step forward. She quickly reversed that movement when Lammergeier aimed a spear at her chest.

“Stay away from her.”

“Lammergeier you were right about the tianlongs. Mother Raya is not like them. She listens to those who accept her.”

“I’d rather be cleansed in fire than accept her embrace.”

“Just leave us alone!” Shrike shouted. “I’ve already saved your miserable life! What more do you want?”

“I owe you my life. No matter how much you hate me, I’ll never forget that debt.”

“And this is how you pay me back? By trying to infect us!”

“No! I would never force Mother Raya’s gift upon anybody!”

“Don’t lie to me! If you just wanted to live, you could have just left quietly! Tell me, why were those monsters lurking so close to our camp?”

“I-I,” Gymnoris paused and chewed at her lip. Mother Raya saved me. I could not in good conscience just sneak off and the rest of you continue to slowly starve to death. I know that this body looks disgusting to your unenlightened eyes, but it truly is a blessing. I am always warm. I can feed off sunlight!”

“That is poor compensation for the agony that comes with it.” Lammergeier scoffed. “Even Shiagaur’s stipulations are more tolerable than Raya’s.”

“That kind of ignorance is why I was compelled to stay. I needed to show our clan the light.” She looked at Shrike. “But I swear, I would have never forced the choice upon you or anyone else.”

Shrike shook her head. “I don’t believe you. My father was right; you’re a coward. I should have let you rot.”

Gymnoris called out to Shrike as she turned her back to her. “I might have burned your bridge, but you are free to cross mine whenever you see the light.”

When they returned to camp, the others had already burnt all her belongings. Her father prepared a hot bath for her while she prayed to the tianlongs in isolation.

******

‘Look at your wounds, but do not pick at them.’

Out of all the sayings and metaphors that her father dispensed over the years, that had been her favorite. Yet, no matter how strongly those words resonated with her, they never truly took root. How could she stop dwelling on her mistakes, knowing that nobody would be there to catch her when she fell? The incident with Gymnoris was no mere slip. She had fallen off a mountain.

Shrike kept herself busy to take her mind off Gymnoris. When she wasn’t maintaining her tools or foraging for food, she would try to wheedle conversations out of her father.

To her dismay, a ghost from Gymnoris’ past came up to her while she was polishing her bow.

“What are you doing so close to our camp, heretic?” an older man named Cardinal demanded.

“I am not a heretic!” Shrike snarled. “My father may have stopped praying to the tianlongs, but I am a devout follower!”

“You rotten liar!” Cardinal seethed. “The Gymnoris I knew would have never forsaken the tianlongs! You corrupted her!”

“I had nothi—”

“She was like a sister to me once!” Cardinal angrily cut her off. “And you tricked her into selling her soul to Raya!” At this point, their argument had drawn a crowd. The new arrivals radiated hostility.

Shrike didn’t care. “Sister, huh?” Gymnoris once viewed Cardinal as more than just a friend. Her companion, however, did not reciprocate those feelings, and the awkwardness that lingered between them caused them to drift apart. “Yet, despite that closeness, where were you in her time of need?”

“I—”

This time it was Shrike’s turn to interrupt. “I found her sitting in her own blood with no one to comfort her.”

“I was—”

“Did you abandon her when she asked if she could pass down her memories to you?”

“No! I—”

“Or were you too much of a coward to even give her the chance to ask?”

“Shut up!”

“You have the gall to accuse me of blasphemy, of disloyalty. Yet, you are the one that refuses to make use of the gifts Kanghui gave you and abandoned your friend!”

“Shut up!” Shrike easily ducked beneath the man’s wild haymaker and planted her fist into the older zeraph’s chin. He toppled to the ground. Still not satisfied, Shrike jumped on top of Cardinal and continued to pummel him. She got three blows in before a heavy kick to her side sent her tumbling. Grimacing, Shrike rose to her feet and glared at the group of men that came to Cardinal’s aid. The smallest among them was a head taller than she was.

Undeterred, Shrike came at them in a whirl of fists and feet. The ferocity of her attack took her foes aback. Two heavy hooks to a jaw sent one man sprawling and a kick to the knee left another one limping. Her momentum did not last long. With her attention split between multiple opponents, Shrike could not prevent her adversaries from flanking her. A boot slammed into her back, knocking her onto her stomach.

Shrike’s attackers did not hold their blows back. They stamped all over her body, intent on beating her within an inch of her life. Shrike curled up into a ball to protect her head from the vicious blows. If the assault went on any longer, she would have suffered crippling injuries.

Lammergeier arrived just in the nick of time. With a single shove and a glare, the warrior convinced her assailants to back down.

“Get up.”

Dazed, Shrike absently pressed her palms against her throbbing forehead. She winced when her father grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked until she stood.

“What were you thinking, provoking them like that?” he hissed as he dragged her to an isolated spot. “The others despise you as is.”

“And whose fault is that?” Shrike shoved her father. “You’ve flaunted your apostasy for decades and everyone hates me because of it!”

“Would you prefer I pretend to be faithful?”

“You could have been less blatant about it!” Shrike seethed. Years of built-up resentment boiled to the surface. “Why did you turn your back on Kanghui? He created us!”

“He did,” Lammergeier allowed. “And when he no longer needed us, he discarded us.”

“That’s a lie!”

“What do you know?” Lammergeier exploded. “I was born in the greatest city the world has seen! I fought for the dragons centuries before you came out of your mother’s womb! I watched those avaricious reptiles throw away everything we accomplished for their own gain, and I was there when they left us to rot on this hunk of ice! Kanghui and his wretched spawn have taken everything away from us and you fools continue to offer him more! Feel free to bow and scrape to those capricious serpents if you will, but I refuse to be strung along like a pawn!"

Obsessed with having the last word as always, Lammergeier marched off before she could respond. Shrike glared at his receding back. A tingle in her nape hairs compelled her to look over her shoulder. She saw dozens of hostile glares lingering over her back.

That night, Shrike prayed to the tianlongs far out of sight.

******

Three veteran hunters approached Shrike two days after her altercation with Cardinal. Bateleur stood at the head of the group.

“Good day.”

“Good day,” Shrike replied, ready to grab the spear beside her.

“That was quite an impressive showing you had a few days ago. A little girl holding her own against an entire group of men.”

Shrike responded to his praise with a shrug. The bruises she had received in that fight were still sore and her pride hadn’t recovered either.

Bateleur’s grin faltered. “I always thought you were just a braggart, but I will admit I was wrong about you. We’ve traded unkind words to one another in the past, but I reckon we can put that behind us. What do you say?”

‘Fall on your spear,’ was what Shrike wanted to say to him. “Sure,” was what she grunted instead. Bateleur may have been that last person she wanted to reconcile with, but she couldn’t afford to spurn him, on the off chance he was being genuine.

Bateleur gave her an unwelcome pat on the shoulder. “Good, good! We were thinking of going on a hunt. Would you like to accompany us?”

Shrike deliberately bent down to fiddle with her boot laces. She made sure that they couldn’t see her narrowed eyes.

“There’s not much game around. Nothing but birds and rodents here. We’d be better off foraging alone and in different directions.”

“Ninox spotted some boar tracks yesterday.”

“It was getting dark when I found them, so I didn’t have time to hunt down myself,” he explained. He flashed her his most dashing smile. “It’s been a while since the clan had a decent meal. We could use your help to haul it back to camp.”

Shrike bit her lip. It took her nearly a minute to make her decision. “Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Looking pleased with himself, Bateleur led the way. Shrike made sure he and his companions were in front of her at all times. She sensed a trap but felt compelled to spring it. If they were planning to do her harm, it would be better to confront their treachery while it was obvious instead of giving them a chance to catch her off guard in the future.

The schemers brought her two miles away from camp when they made their move.

“Did you hear that?” Bateleur asked out of the blue. He and his companions all spun around; their eyes almost comically wide.

“No,” Shrike said, staring straight ahead.

“I did!” Ninox whispered. “It was faint, but I definitely heard something. I think we’re being stalked!”

“By what?” Shrike asked skeptically.

“Not sure. Maybe a leopard?”

“Well, do you see one?”

“No, I think it ran off,” Ninox said.

Shrike shrugged indifferently. “Doesn’t really matter. A leopard is not a threat to an entire party of hunters. So long as we do not threaten it, it should leave us alone.”

Bateleur stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Normally that is the case, but as you said earlier, there isn’t much prey around. It might be starving and desperate for food. Maybe you should stand at the front in case it tries something.”

“I can defend myself.”

“You certainly can! We’re all impressed by your ability to fight, but the leopard doesn’t know that. Your smaller size makes you a tempting target.”

“If the leopard is dumb enough to attack us, we’ll have a free meal and a soul to sacrifice.”

“You’re being reckless, Shrike,” Ninox told her. “Leopards are not something to take lightly. I once saw one claw off somebody’s scalp. You should walk ahead of us.”

Bateleur nodded in agreement. “My uncle told me the surest way to get attacked by a leopard is to present your back to it. They’re cowards that cannot resist the urge to pounce on unsuspecting prey. ”

Shrike took several steps back. “Is that why you’re all trying to get at my back?”

“What?” Bateleur asked, blinking owlishly.

“There is no boar!” Shrike declared hotly, pointing her spear at his chest. “There is nothing, except a pack of craven cats!”

“Shrike, what are you about?”

“Enough, Bateleur. She’s not falling for it,” the hunter, whose name was unknown to Shrike, said. “I told you this was a stupid plan.”

“It was good enough to lure her out here,” Bateleur countered.

“Enough talk!” Ninox shouted, excitement causing his pupils to thin into reptilian slits. “Let’s skewer this bitch!”

“You’re welcome to try, but you’ll regret it!”

Bateleur was not impressed by her threat. “Not likely. You might be a vicious fighter, but we’ve got you outnumbered.”

“Maybe I can’t defeat all three of you at once,” Shrike conceded. “But I can at least bring one or two of you with me!” A mad glint entered her eye. “Which one of you is willing to bleed out on the snow with me?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Ninox growled. “We can take her easily!”

“If you really believe that, why did you go to such lengths to stab me in the back?”

Unable to think of a retort to that, Ninox glowered at her in silence.

“Even if you did kill me unscathed, how do you think you’ll fare when my father finds out what you did to me? Say what you will about him, but he’s not an idiot. He’ll never believe that I died in a hunting accident.”

“The heathen doesn’t give a lick about you!” Ninox spat.

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

Evidently, none of them were. One by one, they lowered their spears.

“Fine,” Bateleur groused. “We won’t kill you this day if you swear you won’t seek retribution against us later.”

“As if a heathen’s promise means anything!” Ninox hissed.

“I am not a heathen! I will swear on Kanghui’s name that I won’t kill you if you agree to leave me alone from now on!”

“Agreed,” Bateleur sighed.

Once the vows were made, Bateleur and his cronies began heading back to camp. Shrike made sure her back wasn’t exposed to them as they walked around her. She watched them leave with clenched teeth.

When they had gotten thirty body lengths away, she screamed, “Why? I’ve done nothing to you! Why did you try to kill me?”

“You have the gall to ask that after you nearly beat Cardinal to death?”

“He attacked me first!”

“He had the right after what you did to Gymnoris!”

“I had nothing to do with Gymnoris’ defection! Every night, I pray to Kanghui and the tianlongs. I have nothing but love and respect for them!”

“She forfeited her soul to Raya within a week of lingering in your corrupting presence! You’re not fooling anyone."

“I don’t know why she did! I ju-I just want to be accepted into the clan!”

“And you never will be! If you truly wish to serve the tianlongs, go carve out your own heart so we can make a talisman out of it.”

Shrike watched them go sullenly. When they were out of sight, she knelt and buried her face in her hands. She furiously rubbed at her reddening eyes, mentally berating herself for her foolishness. She knew that nothing good would have come of this, yet she desperately clung to the hope that some of her clan members had finally accepted her.

She spent the next few hours in that position, wondering whether she should bother returning to camp.

Halfway through her trek back, the scent of blood, smoke, and burning flesh filled her nostrils. Fearing the worst, she quickened her pace.

Carnage greeted her.

Scores of her people lay dead. Most had been skewered by spears and tusks. The least fortunate had been mangled by trunks. All died with expressions of agony and fear written on their faces.

Shrike blankly stared at the gruesome scene, too overwhelmed to feel anything save for numb disbelief. She forced herself to put their deaths out of her mind so that she could focus on helping those that still lived.

Though many of her clan mates had perished, the corpses in the area did not account for even a quarter of their number. Based on the number of green bodies littering the ground, their enemies’ ambush had not gone as well as they had hoped.

During her examinations, a glint of blue caught Shrike’s eye. She bent down to get a better look. Anxiety twisted her stomach. It was a splotch of her father’s blood. She discovered more azure stains a hundred paces west. Lammergeier’s tracks were faint, his footprints almost completely erased by neanderthal and dobuwana activity.

Shrike chased after her father’s trail. She jogged for nearly half an hour when she came across another cluster of corpses. There were no zeraphs among the bodies this time. No doubt Lammergeier’s pursuers regretted their choice in quarry.

It was difficult to determine how many neanderthals he had slain. Chunks of flesh were scattered all over the place. Shrike’s jaw dropped as she surveyed her father’s handiwork. If she hadn’t known better, she would have assumed that a dobuwana had been the ones responsible for their mangled state. In a sense, one was. A gore-stained tusk lay at the center of the scene. Even after it had been snapped in half, the makeshift bludgeon was nearly as long as she was tall.

Her awe evaporated when she noticed that another dobuwana’s tusk was coated in blue fluid. Fists clenched, she skirted around the huge carcass, expecting to see her father’s corpse. What she saw was only slightly less ghastly. Lammergeier was slumped against the pachyderm’s back, clutching an arm that was barely attached to his shoulder. He raised his head when he heard his daughter gasp.

“Shrike,” he said casually, as if she had roused him from a nap. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I’ll be with you for many more years. Get up, we have to move.”

“Don’t be a fool. I am already dead.”

“Others have survived worse.”

“Others have died from less.”

Shrike bent down to lower her shoulder below his good arm. He shooed her away. “I didn’t kill all the ones that chased me. The ones that ran off will regroup and come back to finish me. They’ll kill you too if you don’t get out of here soon.”

“I can’t just leave you here!”

Her father chuckled weakly. “I'd prefer if you didn’t.” Grunting, he reached for a knife tucked into his belt and pressed the blade into Shrike’s hand. “They’ll take their time if they get a hold of me. Make it quick.”

Shrike stared at him uncomprehendingly. Lammergeier gripped her trembling hands.

“Please.”

Shrike bit her lips until they bled. She glared at him, her eyes pink and moist.

“Why do you always hurt me?” she demanded, yanking her hands out of his grip.

“Shrike—”

“All I wanted was for you to treat me like your daughter, and to the end, you push me away! Why? Give me a reason why I shouldn’t leave you here to rot after you’ve neglected me my entire life!”

“I am sorry.”

Shrike’s fury cooled. She had never heard her father sound so vulnerable.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have been so cold to you for all these years, but I was scared. Scared of growing too attached. I watched everyone I cared for wither and die. The only thing I had left were my ideals. Then, the dragons abandoned us, and I lost that too. I vowed I would never let anything grow dear to me again. Your mother convinced me to break that vow, and Kaaslithe took her away from us a year after our marriage. I was so sick of it. Sick of loss. Sick of regret. I kept you at arm’s length so I wouldn’t be hurt again when you died.” He grinned mirthlessly. “I never considered the idea that you might end up outliving me. If I had known, maybe I would have been a better father to you.”

“I am sorry,” he repeated after a moment of silence. “I should have spent more time with you. Gotten to know you better.”

Shrike wiped her eyes and forced herself to smile. “You still can,” she told him while extending her hand.

Lammergeier stared at her glowing palms with uncertainty.

“I’ve been alive for three centuries. If you try melding with me, you’ll be overwhelmed by my memories.”

“I won’t.”

Her father didn’t look convinced but, seeing how resolute she was, sighed and offered his hand. Smiling, Shrike reached out to him.

When their hands touched, an electric sensation shot up their arms, welding their consciences together. In an instant, their minds exchange a life’s worth of experiences.

Shrike sees her father and Koshuka in their prime. Lammergeier weaves his way through a crowded plaza. All around him, the other zonoid races mingle with one another, exchanging goods and japes that bring both parties much heartfelt laughter. He makes his way to the city’s palace. An immense crimson shenlong lies atop a golden dais. Lammergeier can barely keep himself from dancing when the governor awards him a thousand pounds of silver for his recent valor. He releases his pent-up jubilation when he arrives home. His first wife squeals as he twirls her around.

The happy times do not last forever. One by one, Lammergeier’s loved ones succumb to the ravages of time. He scarcely has time to mourn his youngest grandson’s passing when Ao Yi and the other longwangs announce it is time for the zonoid empire to spread eastwards. With nothing left to lose, Lammergeier enlists. They march through the southern isthmus, mercilessly slaughtering anyone that stands in their path. Their victims’ screams keep Lammergeier up at night. He tells himself that they are bringing civilization and prosperity to the east.

The Vaalocans do not see it that way. They forget their petty squabbles and unite against them. The conflict over the two isthmuses becomes a brutal contest of attrition. Countless soldiers throw their lives away to gain a few miles of ground, only for them to be lost weeks later.

Ancient dalilongs and equally immense serpentine burakis break the stalemate. After a year of fighting, Ao Yi’s draconic forces burn a path through the southern isthmus and set its sights on the great plains.

An army of fanged creatures stand in their path. The gorgolisks are just as diverse as the twelve zonoid races, yet they are one. Their unity is something to be admired and their resolve is frightening. They fight to the death, never asking for or giving quarter.

Gorgolisk

Gorgolisks have always been the empire’s worthiest foes and their goddess proves to be just as tenacious. Dailongs and burakis experience the same helplessness and terror their victims felt when Aladenka unleashes her divine servants upon the world.

Fire engulfs the lands as shenlongs trade blows with equally colossal apostles. Mortals flee the apocalyptic battlefields en masse, but the zeraphs hold their ground in support of their reptilian overlord.

Aladenka’s apostles are beaten, but there is no victory to be had. Countless lives are snuffed out when the goddess makes landfall in central Koshuka. Her retribution inspires forgotten gods to rise up and lash out against the serpent that erased their legacies.

When fire consumes half of Koshuka, three of the four Old Ones intervene.

Enkengelion’s stone avatars subdue the renegade gods.

Seiradan brings forth the rain.

Raya seeds new life into the ruined lands.

When the Old Ones demand reparations be made, Aladenka is forced to surrender every wisp of her qi to right her wrongs. Twelves tianlongs are also banished from the heavens and their departure sends the zonoid empire into disarray.

The great invasion finally ends, but Baetyle’s thirst for conflict is not sated.

Meteors bombard the planet, pockmarking the great plains in glowing craters. An endless tide of soul eating savages pour out of the unnatural pits and push Ao Yi’s battered forces back to the Fringe.

Just when Lammergeier thinks the situation is stabilizing, a moon collides with the lands just west of their position. The impact reduces the region into a glass desert, cutting the longwang’s army off from the rest of the empire. The seas, now swarming with ship-wrecking leviathans, provides no avenue of escape.

Hordes of enemies press in from the east and west. Five legions of zeraphs are all that remain of Ao Yi’s forces. Lammergeier and his kin are willing to die for their king, but Ao Yi only sees them as fuel for his ascension. While they fight and bleed for him, the longwang prepares a ritual that will bring about his apotheosis.

Ao Yi’s plot fails, but the consequences of his actions are still felt. He has stranded his zeraphs subjects on a frozen wasteland. They pray to Kanghui for salvation, but no help comes. Three decades go by when Lammergeier strikes out on his own. His kinsfolk’s obsequiousness sickens him, but he ensures they don’t starve. Most take his food and shoo him away.

Nearly a century passes before Lammergeier remembers what it’s like to be appreciated.

Rissa’s attempts at seducing him are bumbling, but endearing. He knows pursuing a relationship with her is the height of foolishness, but it is difficult to push away a woman’s warmth when the lands are so cold.

Lammergeier tries to let his tears fall when his wife passes, but his eyes have nothing left to give. He stares at his infant daughter’s face and apologizes profusely to her. He steps back from the ledge at the very last minute.

Lammergeier keeps Shrike at an arm’s distance. He curses himself for his halfhearted approach. He knows he should either close the distance or pull away entirely, but can’t bear the thought of stepping on another trap or tearing himself away from his daughter’s warmth.

Shrike’s eyes were wet by the time the meld ended. She tried to blink back her tears, but gave up when her father whispered the words she had wanted to hear for so long. Sobbing, she raised her knife.

******

When night came, Shrike’s mind was at war with itself. Compassion urged her to bury her father’s spiritual remains as he would have wanted. Piety demanded she offer the remnants of essence to Kanghui. Her indecision stretched on for hours. Exhausted and no closer to an answer than she was earlier, Shrike decided she would let fate settle the matter. She tossed a dagger into the air and waited to see how it would land. The weapon spun three times before it sank in the snow point first. Sighing, Shrike scooped up her father’s soul and placed it upon an altar that had been disguised as an ordinary rock.

“Great and benevolent Kanghui, please forgive my father for his transgressions against you and accept him into your midst.”

When she opened her eyes again, the only thing that remained of her sire’s soul was a cloud of azure sparks that quickly scattered into the wind. Shrike looked towards the stars, wondering whether she had made the right decision.

Kanghui did not answer.

******

Shrike hadn’t realized how apt the Silent Death’s name was.

The moniker the luddites assigned to the titan had never made sense to her. Her best guess was that his ominous title was a homage to its gluttony. A warning that anything it set its eyes on would be silenced forever. From what she had seen, it was never that thorough. A few screaming survivors always managed to escape its wake.

Only now that it was lumbering towards her with no other creature within sight did she realize how literal its name was. Despite its incredible weight, Kaaslithe did not produce a single sound when its huge columnar feet met the earth.

This revelation didn’t stop her from feeling like an idiot for allowing the immense beast to sneak up on her. Cold dread washed over her. She could not possibly outrun it, not when she had given most of her qi to the gods. There was nowhere to hide. Even if there had been a rock or a tree she could have ducked behind, it had already seen her.

All she could do was wait for its arrival. She tried to stand tall in her final moments, but she could not force herself to watch her imminent death.

When her heart continued to hammer in her chest, she looked up just in time to see Kaaslithe’s tail pass over her head. It plodded for another five body lengths before curling up on a high mound of snow. When it laid its head down, Shrike got a good look at its blood-stained chin.

She should have been relieved. Instead, she was enraged by the animal’s utter indifference. Was she truly so insignificant that the creature couldn’t be bothered to bend down and consume her? Before she realized what she was doing, she shot the beast.

Her arrow shattered against Kaaslithe’s scaled hide. The titan didn’t even stir from its sleep. Screaming, Shrike strung another arrow to her bowstring and let it fly. Her rage was so apocalyptic that the heavens themselves seemed to take note. She would never know whether Baetyle had been drawn to Shrike’s foolhardiness or if one of his avatars had simply been passing by. Whatever the case, the intense crimson light cast by the asteroid flying overhead invigorated her.

“I’ll make you notice me!”

Shrike continued to empty her quiver into the sleeping titan. She was down to two arrows when Kaaslithe deigned to look at her. Its pupils dilated when an arrowhead smashed into it.

Kaaslithe bolted upright. The slight gouge Shrike’s arrow inflicted had already healed over, but the hate in its eyes was unmistakable.

Shrike smirked viciously. No doubt her father was rolling in his grave, but she was too far gone to realize how idiotic she was being.

“That’s right. Look at me. Come closer and look. Look at me, you damn monster!”

She pulled her bowstring back, waiting for Kaaslithe to open its mouth so she could launch her last arrow down its throat.

Hot, rancid breath washed over Shrike’s face. Kaaslithe’s gaping jaws were less than a foot away from her, but they refused to clamp down even when she shot its tongue. Its yellow eyes swiveled upwards and were agog with terror. Shrike jumped back when the titan performed a tight 180-degree turn. Shrike cackled at the sight of the dreaded Silent Death beating a hasty retreat.

Even in her unhinged state, Shrike possessed enough self-awareness to realize that she was not the cause of Kaaslithe’s flight. When she turned around, she immediately noticed that Typhon had swelled three times its original size and continued to grow.

‘No. It’s just getting closer,’ she corrected herself after a beat.

Shrieks rang throughout the night as others took notice of this disturbing phenomenon. When the Fringe’s collective gaze laid upon its luminous form, a jagged crack split across Typhon’s diameter. Thousands of prayers were uttered at once, but no amount of pleading could prevent the coming calamity from unfolding. As the crescendo of fear reached its peak, the moon exploded. Most of the Typhon's shattered remains drifted off into the Primordial’s endless embrace, but four of its largest fragments, along with dozens of other chunks, hurtled towards Manu.

The cacophony grew louder when it became apparent that the third largest piece was heading straight in their direction. Shrike did not add her voice to the deafening chorus.

There was the distant realization that the impact would annihilate everything within the Fringe, but she was too shocked to register any fear. Shrike remained rooted to the ground. There was nowhere to run.

Tears threatened to drip down her eyes, but she quickly dried them. Sorrow would do her no good, and what was there to mourn anyway? Her father was dead, her clan had probably been annihilated, and she had stood little chance of surviving on her own anyhow. The only thing she had left was her dignity, and she’d be damned if she’d allow this callous world to take that away from her.

Shrike laughed when she realized that her most foolish wish had come true and been spitefully distorted.

The collision rocked the lands. Shrike had just enough time to pray for a painless death when the explosion reached her. Instead of searing the flesh from her bones as she expected, she was simply flung several yards back. Sputtering, she unsteadily rose to her feet bruised, baffled, but still intact.

Astonishing as her survival was, Shrike didn’t dwell on the topic. Something far more amazing occupied her attention.

A grand star-shaped city stood where the asteroid had struck. An immense ziggurat stood within the citadel’s center, towering over the formidable walls surrounding it. The building was made of an alloy, unlike anything she had seen. Its unearthly appearance was further empathized by the pillar of light that shot out of an obelisk that jutted from its highest platform.

Just when she thought that her awe reached its peak, the light expanded and contorted until it formed an image of magnificent azure shenlong baring its fangs at a blazing eye. The spectral reptile unleashed a deafening bellow as it lunged at the malevolent orb floating above it. Just as the shenlong’s jaws were about to clamp down on its hated foe, they both vanished.

Without even realizing it, Shrike began her long march towards the city.