~ PANDORA

"Hungry?" Pan asked when they met in a random, busy palace hallway.

"Very," Pandora replied. She had skipped breakfast in favor of a nap.

"Let's head to the luxury room then," Pan said jovially, turning and leading the way.

"Have you been helping the Fount refugees?"

"For the most part of the day," Pan said. "I like it. It keeps my mind off things."

"Mine, too," Pandora agreed. "Too much is going on. It's easy just to keep moving. Helping. Not very many Regalians think I'm much help, but the people of the Fount have no opinion of me yet. As far as I know."

"The people who think you are helpful are the people who are important to you," Pan said with a smile. "That's all you need. The others will change their minds once they realize that."

"You're right. I hope they do. I don't want to be run out of town like last time."

Pan held open the curtain for Pandora, and she entered with a polite "thanks," at the gesture. They took a seat together at a nearby couch and a servant informed them their food would be out shortly.

"To be quite honest," Pan said. "I'm glad the cutters are forcing us to get this war over and done with. I hate war. I grew up through the war with the gnawers. It's all so awful. And now my brother is involved. I may not like him, but I still love him. I hope he's out of harm's way."

"I hope he is, too. Out there at the Reaper's Gate with Eurymedon," Pandora said, mentioning the general's name with a touch of disdain.

"I am not a fan of him either," Pan said, understanding Pandora's tone. "If we want to get out of war, we need to think differently. A new perspective. General Eurymedon is a bit too... old-fashioned."

"To say the least," Pandora affirmed.

Soon after the duo started talking about the differences between the flyer's way of running things versus Mareth's, servants brought simple dishes out for Pan and Pandora to enjoy. Pandora could tell the palace kitchens were rationing their food, albeit the adequately-portioned meal was still delicious.

"Pardon me," a servant ran in the door partially through the meal. He continued before Pan or Pandora could even turn their heads to acknowledge him. "I was told to bring Pan to the hospital at once," he addressed quickly. He turned his head towards Pan. "It's your brother. He's hurt. Come quickly."

"My... my," Pan tried to say, leaping from the couch and fluttering as fast as he could towards the doorway. Pandora swiftly followed, moving the curtain out of the way of the poor bat as he skittered past the many people flooding the hall.

"Move aside, please. Make way," the servant who led them said clearly, trying to make the Fount survivors clear a suitable path for the flyer.

"He must be bad," Pandora thought, her stomach dropping fast under the weight of her recent meal. "If this servant is making it so Pan gets to the hospital as fast as possible, Cleon must be in trouble." She said nothing, however, for fear of making the bat who caused panic to start panicking himself.

"Cleon! Where is my brother?" Pan started to yell as soon as they stepped foot on the hospital floor. "Cleon!"

"This way!" The servant cried, turning a corner and entering a thankfully less-crowded hallway.

A small group of hospital officials turned their heads as they heard Pan coming down the hall. They all had somber looks on their faces. Pandora and Pan stopped in front of them.

"Is my brother in there?" Pan asked them breathlessly.

"He is," one nurse said. They all stepped out of his way. "But please, he is not well. Prepare yourself for what you might see."

"What is being done to him?" Pan said.

"We've tried slowing the loss of blood. Other than that, there is nothing we can do," she said gently, placing a comforting hand onto his shoulder.

"No," Pan said quietly. Tears started flowing down the fur on his cheeks. "Oh no. My brother... Pandora, come in with me. Please."

"You should be alone with him," Pandora suggested.

"Come in," he urged.

Pandora took an involuntary step forward. "Alright," she consented. Pandora was confused. She did not want to go in; she wanted Pan to have the last moments with his brother to himself. Yet, she had the sudden urge to do so. A sudden ride of her heartbeat. Pandora was not offended that Pan had made her feel the same panic he was feeling. Perhaps he didn't even do it on purpose. Pan was upset. He just wanted a friend to comfort him in a desperate hour. Wouldn't she have asked him to do the same if she was in his position?

Pandora stepped into the room after Pan, placing a hand on his shoulder similar to how the nurse had before the small group of doctors and nurses disbanded. They walked to the bedside together.

Cleon was covered mostly with a sheet, only his head and the tops of his claws were visible.

"Brother..." Pan called to him. Cleon opened his eyes.

"Pan," he acknowledged. His breathing was labored, and his tightly bandaged head was obviously still bleeding. "I knew you'd come to see me. You don't hate me that much."

"I don't hate you at all," Pan said. He sniffled and gave his brother a small smile.

"The battle... it was a lost cause," Cleon said. "I was foolish to follow. I shouldn't have let something as silly as position make my decisions for me," he said slowly, in between breaths. "Who cares if you're chosen to follow a general, if you don't have the courage to tell him 'no'? All those good soldiers... they're gone now."

"Is there any hope for Regalia now?" Pan said rhetorically, looking towards the ceiling and shaking his head. He blinked hard, and as he did, two large tear drops made their way down his already wet fur.

"My brother, there is still hope. You're still here, aren't you? And your Overland friend," Cleon glanced over at Pandora for the first time. "I hope you all find your peace. I find mine very soon."

"Don't say that, Cleon, you will be fine," Pan shook his head, his voice threatening to break. When his brother started to shake his head, Pan said in a commanding voice, "you will not die."

Cleon smiled and shook his head again. "I'm afraid your gift will not work on me this time."

"No, Cleon. Please," Pan pleaded.

"Fly you high, my brother."

Pan started to cry. "Fly you high." They clasped claws and Cleon shut his eyes, a calm smile upon his face. Pandora quietly rubbed Pan's back as he leaned over the hospital cot.

The two brothers continued to sit there, eyes closed, claws intertwined, until Cleon drew his last breath.

Pandora escorted her friend out of the hospital, asking a nearby servant to find out where Pan lived, so she could walk him home safely away from the palace, its many inhabitants, and its overwhelming sorrow.

~ GREGOR

"The troops are back," a guard quickly poked his head into the war room and said, just as Gregor was about to leave.

"What news do they bring?" Mareth asked, gripping the edge of the table. Gregor hoped to hear some good news. Did they win? Did they force to cutters to retreat? What if they lost? Were the cutters already at their doorstep?

"It's dismal." The guard glanced towards both sections of the hall before quietly entering the war room and speaking softly, so only Gregor and Mareth could hear. "The flyer general is dead. As are most of the soldiers. They would have all perished if someone had not ordered a retreat."

"Who did? Who called to retreat?"

"The only one with any authority who survived," the guard shrugged, looking down at the floor. He must have hated being the one to deliver such awful news. "Lieutenant Perdita."

"What do you mean 'the only one'?" Gregor spoke up.

"There is..." the guard swallowed hard, "there is only a handful of troops who made it back alive. They are in terrible condition. I heard many lost their light before even making it to the hospital. I would say less than two dozen from the battle at Reaper's Gate made it back alive."

Mareth wiped his face with a hand and leaned heavily over the table. Gregor almost lost his footing, completely aghast by the staggering amount of humans and bats that went into that cavern, just to not make it out again.

"Where is Perdita now?" Gregor asked. "Is she alright? Can I see her?"

"I do not think she is up for seeing visitors at the moment," the guard cautioned. "She's in the hospital, but she had some fortune smile upon her. She isn't severely injured. I think it best if she had some time alone. I cannot imagine such a horrible sight to happen in front of my eyes. I haven't the slightest thought as to what she might be going through."

"Today is not the day to take rest," Mareth shook his head. "As cruel as that sounds, the cutters get closer and closer to our gates. Perdita has more information on their numbers than I do. Gregor, go and see her. Report back to me her recounts of the battle. And for heaven's sake, go over this idea you believe you have and create an actual plan, so you can finally share it with me. I am going to need all of the help I can get." Mareth stood up suddenly and started to pace around the room, slamming his crutch into the ground with each step. "That damn, old general. Cutters do not fight the honorable fight that Eurymedon wanted. He died in his hubris and took hundreds of our good troops with him."

"Let's hope his way of doing battle dies with him," Gregor commented before finally leaving the war room. As he marched down the hallway, he heard Mareth ask the guard to go find Luxa and Vikus immediately.

***

"She is very tired and must rest now," a nurse argued with Gregor.

"I have orders from General Mareth to see Lieutenant Perdita. Right now," Gregor maintained. It was his first time addressing his friends with such titles, but if they had no problem calling him "the warrior," he had no problem calling them their proper titles.

The nurse hesitated for another moment, but then relented. "Alright, but please.... Keep in mind all she has been through."

"I understand," Gregor said calmly before opening a nearby curtain and stepping inside.

"Mareth really sent you?"

Gregor nodded. "I have to talk to you."

Perdita put a sarcastic mask on her haggard face. It seemed to Gregor as if she was trying to smile. She had a large, fresh wrapping on her shoulder. A doctor must have just finished dressing her wounds. Gregor couldn't see any other signs of injury; Perdita's body from the chest down was covered by blankets. "And I suppose Mareth wants details on what happened at the Reaper's Gate?"

"Yes. He does."

"Tell him this: there were far greater numbers in their army than we could have ever imagined. Waves of thousands. One would hit from one direction, then one from another." Perdita's eyes got distant as she continued. "They scaled the walls, climbing up to the ceiling and then falling onto the fliers' backs. It was a massacre." As Perdita looked towards Gregor once again, he could tell that she was getting extremely upset. Her eyes got shiny with tears. "To me, it felt as if General Eurymedon killed us all. I begged for him to abandon the battle as soon as I saw the second wave. He refused."

The lieutenant took a moment to wipe her eyes before continuing. Her steely demeanor started to return. "Once he was dead, I looked around and saw that I was the only one left fit for command. I called to retreat... and it hurt me to see so few soldiers left who were coherent enough to follow me back to Regalia."

"I'll tell this to Mareth. You won't have to repeat this story unless you want to. I know what it feels like when people ask what happened, and you just can't bring yourself to relive the memory."

Perdita nodded, wiping her face dry and sniffling. "Thank you, Gregor."

"Mareth told you about the original plan, right? The one that Pandora helped us put together. The fight in the arena, with a role for everyone?"

"Yes, I remember that one. It seemed a bit risky at the time, but a decent plan if we had no other choice."

"Something tells me it's our only choice," Gregor confessed. "But I did have some time to think about it. I think I've streamlined it a bit. Made it safer, hopefully. And..."

"And?" Perdita encouraged.

"And I added in a part two to the plan."

"And what is part two?"

"Well, maybe I should go over part one first," Gregor said, shifting from one foot to another and starting to get nervous on actually getting to sharing his big idea. What if it was a nightmare? A disaster? He'd have wasted everyone's time, and time was something precious. "I really need your help figuring out the details. It's hard for me to explain, and I already have Mareth dying for me to have something set in stone, you know?"

Perdita motioned to the hospital bed and her wounded shoulder. "You have my full attention. Start from the beginning and say anything that crosses your mind even if it's not a complete thought or sounds ridiculous."

"First of all, I've decided that I'm done running away from who I am. I'm a rager. Fighting is what I'm good at. And if we need a leader, I'm happy to be a warrior again. And we're going to really need a leader at the arena if Luxa's not going to be there, cuz she'll have her hands full if my plan actually works."

"What will you have Luxa do?" Perdita asked, eyebrows furrowing as she listened intently.

"She's going to kill the cutter's queen."