Several breaths passed, yet the flying netherborne still hovered over the forest, still as calm water. Octavia wasn't sure what was more unnerving, that it wouldn't act or what would happen once it did.

If an opponent acted, at least could react and determine the best way to defeat it. But this one just hovered there. It made no sense to her. The netherborne did not default to hesitation when there was prey in plain sight. Their methods were calculated in theory and manic in execution.

She took a step forward and hesitated. What if it was waiting for her to act? To determine her weakness and take her out?

Pounding footfalls pulled her from her thoughts, but didn't take her eyes off the netherborne. Claud appeared in her peripheral, his hair wild and sword held in a white-knuckled grip. He wasn't dressed like the other Priests, looking more casual in his slacks and sweater, but at least he had on shoes. "Good to see you." He gazed up at the winged netherborne. "What is that?"

"I'm about to find out." An involuntary quiver laced her words.

"Take this." Claud held out a dagger hilt first. It was an unremarkable thing—double edged, leather wrapped handle and round pommel.

Octavia tucked it into her boot. "If I don't come back, be prepared to fight or flee."

The clothier blanched. "There's no boat with which to flee. Fighting is our only option, but let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"I'll do my best." With a mighty flap of her wings, she was airborne, but this time, the sinking feeling in her stomach was nigh unbearable. It made her gut clench and bile pool into her mouth. She could be flying to her death.

Up close the bits of gold in the netherborne's black feathers were more prominent so were its beak-like nose and lips stained the colour of red wine. It regarded Octavia with eyes as rich and green as new leaves in spring.

Just hovering in front of it made her body heavy, and her heart race. She'd ever seen another netherborne like it. It was almost human, and she felt tiny, and insignificant in its overwhelming presence, like a buzzing pestilence to be swatted.

The netherborne's lips tipped into a smile. It clasped its top two hands together and inclined its body in a bow.

Octavia swallowed, her hands shaking around the bell whip. She didn't know why, but the small gesture unnerved her. Why was this creature bowing to her? Perhaps she was too used to netherborne talking her ears off, going on and on about how awful the humans were. Yet this one hovered here, so calm, so serene. Not attacking her, not sneering at her, not lashing out at her for "consorting with the humans."

The bell whip writhed in her hands and she realised she was squeezing it too tight. Even the weapon was more jittery than usual. It wrapped and unwrapped her waist and curled in the air over her head. Yet it didn't seem hostile towards this netherborne. Under normal circumstances it would hiss with the need for action.

The netherborne knew she was frazzled. Its smiled widened, exposing its fangs and a glint of amusement flashed in its eyes. The beast turned with the fluid grace of a dancer and floated to the east, away from the village.

Octavia glanced back at those beneath her. The priests headed off the smaller netherborne, luring them to the western side of the Cathedral grounds. Sicero hadn't moved from where she left him, and his eyes were trained on her, face infuriatingly impassive. Claud stood beside him and gave her a nod of encouragement.

After one last look at the village, Octavia pursued the netherborne. But she kept a reasonable distance, unsure of what to make of its strange behavior. The villagers and priests were like fish in a barrel, yet instead it had turned away from the veritable feast to do... whatever this was.

The beast stopped halfway between the village and the docks, but didn't turn around. It beat its wings, slow and graceful, slow at first, then faster and faster until they were naught but a black blur. They filled the air with a droning whir and vortex of wind that kicked up a cloud of snow beneath them.

Octavia beat her wings faster to stop herself from being sucked in. A show of power or a legitimate attack? she wondered.

It shot into the air with blinding speed, leaving a back draft in its wake that blew back trees and heaps of snow. The gust stole the wind from beneath her wings and sent her careening towards the ground. Arms and legs flailing, she beat her wings, narrowly avoided slamming into a tree, and hit an updraft that kept her airborne.

The netherborne was over the docks, arching through the air so fast, Octavia's eyes couldn't keep up. It moved along the northern shore before banking and shooting right for her. She held her position, taking deep breaths to steel her nerves. She used the droning sound of its wings to gauged its distance and speed.

When the netherborne closed in, she shot up and lashed out with the bell whip. The weapon caught the netherborne's wing and released a chime that doubled the burning in Octavia's chest. The wing broke away in a burst of black petals, halting the beast in its tracks. It spun to face Octavia, yet its eyes held no malice or hurt. If anything, it appeared curious.

The black petals and what remained of the wing stilled in the air before drifted towards the netherborne. The coalesced, melding together like droplets of water and reformed the wing.

What in damnation is this thing? Her frustration was overshadowed by the sharp pain radiating through her chest. She wheezed in a breath and hacked out a cough. The bell whip was pulling too much of her power at once. If she kept using it, she wouldn't last much longer. The weapon returned to its chain form at her command. While she objected to using her voice, it was her only option.

Octavia blinked, and the beast was over her, and its taloned feet closed around her legs. It shot into the sky once more, this time dragging her along for the ride. Wind screamed in her ears and made her eyes water. The air grew ripe with salt as they passed over the sea and the netherborne banked east skirting the southern edge of the island.

"Damn it." Octavia reached for Claud's dagger, straining and stretching. The tips of her fingers grazed the pommel, and it slipped down just enough for her to pull it free. She stabbed at the beast's feet, but the dagger couldn't break its tough scales.

She sucked in a breath and released a musical sound that ran the gambit of several pitches, using all the power she could muster. It ended with her breaking into a fit of coughs and wincing against the unbearable ache in her chest. The netherborne slowed and flipped upside down in the air, bringing Octavia close to its face and giving her a smile of amusement.

Enough games. She thrust the dagger, aiming for the creature's eye, but it yanked her just out of reach. Its smile melted into a frown. Not one of sadness but of disappointment. It plucked her from its talon, holding her by the collar like one would a kitten.

Octavia opened her mouth to sing again but the netherborne put the tip of a sharp fingernail to her throat and shook its head. Then it closed its hand around her and squeezed, hard enough to pin her arms and wings to her side, and impede her breathing.

This was a show of power, she was sure. It could kill her if it wanted to. She couldn't draw enough air to sing and she hadn't the strength to break from its grasp. Fear rooted itself in her stomach and bloomed, lacing her body with its heady poison.

The beast loosened its grip enough for her to breathe easily, but not enough for her to escape. It spun and glided north, to the village.

Octavia swallowed. What now? Was it going to destroy the village and make her watch? Or force her to join the other villagers and kill them together. The closer they got to the cluster of houses got, the deeper her stomach sank.

Soon people came into view. She spotted Beatrix and Winslet sitting near the fire pit outside the Cathedral. All eyes turned skyward as the netherborne descended. Mouths gaped, people tripped and fell over their own feet. The beast hovered just outside the Cathedral's barrier.

A group of priests placed themselves between the beast and the villagers hands outstretched and mouths forming cryptic chants. Under normal circumstances, Octavia would've found the effort noble, but in the face of this winged netherborne it looked pathetic.

The beast didn't seem bothered by them. It leaned over and set Octavia in the snow. She didn't turn around to face it. If she was about to die, she didn't want her last sight to be a netherborne. Her gaze remained ahead on those in front of her.

Only when the priest lowered their arms and ceased their chanting did she hazard a look over her shoulder. The netherborne glided over the forest, away from the village. She watched it until it was a mere speck above the trees; then it shot into the sky and disappeared as dramatically as it had appeared.

Octavia kneeled in the snow, her strength leaving her along with her wings. The staggering reality of what just happened descended upon her like freezing rain, making her body heavy and cold. That netherborne could've easily ended her—ripped her wings from her back, squeezed her until she popped like a grape, slashed her throat.

And then everything she accomplished, everything she wanted to accomplish would all be nothing. Over and over she'd told humans how fickle life was under the heel of the netherbone, and now she sat under that heel with them.

Why? The question echoed over and over in her head. Why didn't it kill her, the humans? She suspected she'd never get an answer, and that was more infuriating than the fact that she'd finally encountered a netherborne she couldn't defeat.

A hand looped under her arm and pulled her to her feet and out of her thoughts.

Octavia staggered as she spun around and met the eyes of Diann. The Councilwoman flipped her sword around and drove the pommel into Octavia's gut.

"Diann what are you doing?!" someone yelled.

The words were slurring mess in Octavia's ears, muffled by the haze of pain. She crumpled to her knees and lost the drink Winslet had given her in the snow, the greenish colour swirled with bits of red. A throbbing settled in her stomach, radiating into her chest. If she had the strength she would've throttled the Councilwoman, but her body refused to do anything but curl in on itself like a withering flower.

"Who let this monster out of its cage?" Diann asked, her voice more like a bark.

"She just saved us," Winslet shouted. She knelt next to Beatrix, who was nursing a gash on her arm.

"If it weren't for her, we wouldn't need saving. And this..." She gestured at the destruction with her sword before placing the blade at Octavia's neck. "...never would've happened."

Octavia was about to speak but crunching footfalls sounded behind her.

"Stay your blade councilwoman," Pilar said, putting herself between Octavia ad Diann. She held her sword in a loose grip at her side, her other hand stuffed in her pocket. "Or lose your arm."

"Are you threatening me? I'll report you to the Divine City and have you arrested and hung for collusion."

Octavia wanted to tell them both to shut up, but the pain had robbed her of both breath and speech. She wrapped her arms around her aching body and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting waves of dizziness.

"Help! Help! Miss Pilar!" A little voice and little crunching feet reached her ears.

"Tallis, I told you to stay inside!" Pilar scolded.

"But it's Miss Zhen. She's growing trees."

"Damn it, the blight." A hand landed on Octavia's shoulder and she opened her eyes to meet Pilar's pleading gaze.

I could say no. The blight only took ten or fifteen minutes to kill. Octavia was tired in both mind and body. The fighting, the dissonance, the discord and the ignorance had all taken their toll on her. But seeing Tallis' face, his wide fearful eyes, melted the ice around her heart. "Take me to her. Quickly."

Pilar tucked her sword away and helped Octavia to her feet. Together they followed Tallis into the Cathedral—through the foyer and down a hall to a room with plush furniture, a hearth and shelves of books.

Sicero burst into the room behind them, but stopped short at the sight of his subordinate. "The blight? How did this happen?"

"A netherborne bit her. We rushed her in as fast as we could," a medic explained.

Zhen laid on a couch, twitching and writhing as tiny branches bloomed with fresh leaves and flowers on her arms and roots branched beneath her skin like veins. The area surrounding the bite on her wrist was inflamed and spotted with purple specks.

"Step back. No one touch her," Octavia said. She stumbled past the medics and collapsed beside the couch, her body feeling more like soft putty than flesh and bone.

Zhen's face glistened with sweat and her jaw was clenched tight. The blight hadn't spread too far, only to her elbows.

"Try to relax and focus on my voice." Octavia laid her hands on Zhen's chest, sucked in a deep breath and sang. The words were in and old, cryptic language that most had forgotten, but necromancers held dear.

The melody twisted and twirled through the air in a symphonic ballet, silencing all murmurs of conversation. She let her power flow freely, and the roots shriveled into dust, the flowers wilted and crumbled, and the leaves turned brown and fell.

When the last note of the song melted into silence, Octavia removed her hands, trying to stay upright despite the spinning in her head. She looked up and caught Sicero staring at her, lips parted and eyes wide as though he'd seen a ghost, though she didn't know when he'd come to her side.

Octavia brought her hand to her mouth just as a cough bubbled up her throat. She blinked at the blood on her hand before spots of black clouded her vision. The world tilted and eyes were suddenly level with everyone else shoes.

Sicero was in her line of sight a moment later, barely visible through the patches of black clouding her vision. "Octavia, stay with me."

She was far past her limit. The burning in her chest combined with the pain in her gut and the heavy weight of fatigue on her shoulders—a cocktail that left her with no choice but to close her eyes and let the darkness take her.

"No, no, no," he pleaded. "Octavia!"