SEBASTIAN

Sebastian wanted to kill everyone and everything in sight.

More so than usual; it wasn't just the animalistic need to be stronger and swifter and deadlier than his prey and opponents. There was always that whispering malice in his blood, taking note of bared throats and turned backs, or who was lagging behind the safety of a group. He grappled with those urges daily. They were manageable. Minimizable.

This rage was different. It howled through his blood like the gale force winds ripping wings off lesser wyverns above. It was the way his younger brother clenched his thighs around the neck of his mate. The way Hunter chuckled in response to something only he and Oriana could hear. They were sharing thoughts, something Sebastian could never hope for in his wildest dreams, and they fit together like a key in a lock as she took to the air, beating her majestic wings and leaving him stranded on the ground like the bug he was.

Not a bug, he snarled, throwing himself into the fight. A wolf.

Cutting down one Kirin was wildly different from killing the next. Some of their bodies were willowy and bent with maddening flexibility, defying the cleaving force of his claws. Others were hewn from the very mountainside, cracking his teeth and crumbling under the pressure of his jaw. The War Queen took notice and started edging towards him, ripping air from the fellwyrm's lungs as she went, leaving them gasping and flopping like stunned fish in her wake.

A keening cry stole his attention momentarily and he looked up, hackles rising at the new threat swooping down. It was a topaz wyvern with the eyes of a dead fish, like the mind beneath it was trapped in stasis.

Bradon, he swore in his head, noting the yellow-eyed man perched on a saddle of gleaming black leather. A necklace of fangs gleamed at his throat, testifying to all of the kills he'd made over the years. Sebastian was no longer confident this was a rescue so much as an extraction.

A star-speckled wyvern shot up past the dais of stone, wings tucked tight against its body, like it was diving in reverse. He watched with baited breath as Rana attacked the golden intruder, only to be dispatched with ruthless efficiency. The next second she was sagging in the air, then tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. The Wraith's ears flattened against the back of his head as he skittered out of the way, cursing himself for not being able to intervene. If he had access to Nya's Grace, he could have brought the whole hoard to its knees —

Green light enveloped the falling wyvern's body, slowing its descent. Rana trailed through the sky like a comet and hit the rocky ground with only a little less force, an impact that surely would have liquified her bones if left unchecked. Sebastian's head whipped around to see Gretchen hovering mid-air, her lovely face contorted in a horrific scream as she fought against gravity.

And something else, Sebastian realised, instinctively edging away from her. Gretchen's eyes were wholly green; the irises had swallowed pupil and white and were glowing just like the magic wreathing her blackened hands. That darkness crept along her veins, up her neck and into her face, feathers and scales sprouting in their wake.

It was the Earth Mother. Sebastian felt his blood run cold when he realised what he was looking at and all the signs he'd missed along the way. The Earth Mother had been chipping away at the walls around Gretchen's mind; easing into Her vessel one imagined slight at a time, making the witch feel insecure, powerless, so that she would reach out for reassurance and open a bridge wide enough for the Earth Mother to step through.

"Kill them all," the Earth Mother said, pointing a haughty finger at the wyverns in the sky. Gretchen's veins bulged as she lowered a shaking hand to Rana's limp body, already shrinking into its most vulnerable form. In a much smaller voice, the witch said: "... except this one."

She was fighting back.

There was hope yet.

ORIANA

We swooped in after Rana was knocked back, harrying the topaz wyvern like a noisy minor defending its territory against an imposing crow. When I saw who it's rider was I stalled momentarily, earning a sharp slash across the ribs that Hunter was able to deflect at the last second with his sword, slashing clean through the other wyvern's toes. It didn't even let out a sound as it banked away, all reactions tortured out of it in the pits of the Hidden Vale, if Hunter's thoughts held true. As far as he was aware, his was the only surviving wyvern in the pit; to learn that Rogan had secretly sanctioned the training of another rubbed him the wrong way.

They're people too, I reminded him sternly, perturbed by the way he thought of wyverns as mounts.

"Pay attention," he snapped, readying his sword as the topaz wyvern swung back around. It glided towards them at a leisurely, almost lazy pace, the swarm of fellwyrm's parting almost reverently around it.

Bradon's laughter was enough to made my scales ripple with unease. "What's this?" he hollered over the noisy battle, yellow eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. "Don't tell me you're consorting with the enemy, Hunter?"

Hunter's legs tightened on the back of my neck. "We have a common enemy," he said, nodding at the Kirin, who were only gathering in strength as reinforcements arrived.

"Yes," he said, lips peeling back from his teeth. Too white. Too sharp. "You do."

The wyvern beneath him rolled without warning, entering my airspace before I could gather my bearings. What remained of its talons clamped down on my shoulder, pinching a nerve in my wing and causing us to drop like a sack of potatoes as it failed. Bradon cackled as we fell, only snapping the silver reins in his left hand when he'd had his fun.

The wyvern complied with a mighty beat of its enormous wings, the muscles in its chest bulging as it climbed into the sky, lifting us along with them. Pain sluiced through my shoulder and I flapped erratically, trying to get away. The world shrank with every second, and every second felt like an hour as we were dragged further and further away from my friends.

It wasn't until the air was thin in my lungs that they stopped. The Grey Fist Mountains were laid out beneath us like a map, the dark inkblots of clouds clinging to the slopes. Hunter was sweating with fear, rooted in place by the clammy state of his hands, which kept slipping on the spine in front of him. He had no saddle to strap his legs into; no reins to grab should he fall. It was a long way down, and he was a sure-footed creature of a verdant land, ill suited to the realm of air and ice.

I was pleasantly surprised to realise I harboured no such fears. While I was concerned for Hunter's safety, there was something oddly fitting about falling to my death — after proving my honour in battle, of course. I decided to go limp, conserving my strength as Bradon took his time to gloat. Every moment that passed drained a little bit more of the bigger wyvern's strength, as he laboured to hold the both of us up, but I quickly realised that Hunter's strength was flagging too. He was too anxious; convinced that he was cold even though he wasn't, hair slick with sweat as his eyes fixed on the drop below.

What a horrible way to learn you have a fear of heights, I thought wryly, trying to lighten the mood.

Hunter grunted noncommittally.

Ask him why he's doing this, I prodded Hunter, encouraging him to peel away from the arresting view below. Aren't you working towards the same goal?

Hunter did as I asked. Bradon bared his teeth in response.

"You still think this is a rescue mission," Bradon said, shaking his head in mock pity. "When has your father ever trusted you with the whole truth, Hunter? Why did you think he would start now?"

Hunter froze. "What are you talking about?"

"You're tainted blood," he spat, with the venom of words long held back. "Your bitch of a mother was too selfish to see the big picture and defied Nya's plan. She nearly killed our fucking messiah," he said, pointing down to where I could only hope Sebastian was still fighting. "You didn't think you could actually compare to a demi-god, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hunter snarled, the moonfyre running along his blade climbing higher.

"Rogan banged a Goddess," Bradon said, spelling it out with ruthless glee. "Your mother couldn't possibly compare. Nya made them mates to tide him over when She didn't have time to pay him a visit, but your daddy's heart always belonged to another."

Hunter's grip tightened on the sword. "You're lying!" he lied through his teeth, unsure of why he was clinging to the delusion of a loving family.

"Why would I lie when the truth hurts so much more?" Bradon asked, throwing his arms wide. "He never wanted her. And he definitely never wanted you."

Driven to rage, the boy on my back did something incredibly stupid. He stood up. He let go. He balanced precariously on my back thousands of feet above the ground with no wings to save him should he fall, and after contemplating the distance but not the consequences he leapt from one wyvern to another, swinging his sword in an eerily beautiful, silent arc, like moonlight filtering down down into a pond.

The sword connected. Blood spurted as he sawed halfway through the topaz wyvern's wing, laughing like a madman as he hung above the void by the grip of his sword alone, legs scrabbling for purchase on the wyvern's side. Bradon swore and turned awkwardly in his saddle, prevented from moving any further by the straps on his legs.

I saw my opportunity and seized it (his flailing arm, specifically), ignoring the pang in my long, sinuous neck as it contorted. Bradon's elbow yielded to my grinding jaw like popped corn, bits of brittle bone sticking between my teeth. He screamed, but there was something perverse in his expression, almost like he savoured the pain even as he cursed me for inflicting it. I felt a rush of revulsion as I tore his arm clean off at the joint, unable to shake the feeling that I'd somehow done him a favour as blood spurted from the wound, staining my silver scales red.

What is your real mission? I asked, forgetting for a moment that I was incapable of human speech.

To my horrified surprise, Bradon heard me and replied. The Moon Cub must embrace his divine heritage. And there's only one thing is this life he values more than his freedom.

Even as he spoke, my mind was whirring, whirling through the implications of our telepathic conversation. It seemed I could use the silver cloak not only to transform, but to communicate as well. It only stood to reason that I could use it to put a soul to sleep, as Gordon had done to Eddy only a few weeks ago.

That was exactly what I did, channeling the energy into my claws. It was only a sliver of energy, the slight surplus left in the wake of my transformation from woman to monster, but it was enough to make the other wyvern's eyelids drags.

"No," Bradon ground out, slapping his hand onto the wyvern's flank. I could feel him battling for control of its mind and soul, yanking on the rusty chains he'd hooked into every memory and muscle. There were so many...

... too many, I realised, as the serrated ends took with them huge chunks of memory. I couldn't cry in this form, but an overwhelming sadness rose up in my chest, expanding until everything felt tight. Your name was Valor and you lived up to it, I sent to the weary wyvern, pulling out one hook of suffering at a time. He sagged with relief, slipping slowly into sleep. You loved and were loved. You brought honour to your family.

Good, Valor thought, pleased by the thought.
Relieved, for Bradon had worked hard to exploit his insecurities and turn his pride against him. You must look out for her. She is stubborn, but she means well.

I realised with a start that he was talking about Rana. Ancient memories bubbled up, each one more surprising than the last; Valour had loved her from afar, even after she'd found her old flame, never once daring to approach her as more than a friend out of respect for her brother, whom he counted as one of his own. I wondered if Rana had ever realised the extent of his affections; if she had ever secretly and unwittingly reciprocated them in turn.

I will look out for her as if she were my own, I promised, that ache sharpening in my chest. I couldn't save him, but I could honour his final wish. Sleep, now. You've earned it.

It was a man who smiled in the meeting of our minds, with wine-red hair and noble, warm brown eyes that softened with sleep. I reached out to close them and he lay back, dropping from the darkest chapter of his life and into the light of an everlasting dream.

Bradon let out a strangled noise as we all dropped out of the sky. Hunter screamed like a little girl at the sight of a spider, clinging to the tumbling corpse for dear life. I manoeuvred out of Valour's slack grip and grabbed the back of Hunter's shirt, silently apologising as I let go momentarily to get a better grip, which he was rather vocal about not appreciating. Once he was secure I kicked off, leaving Bradon tethered to the anchor he had spent so many cruel months affixing himself to.

We were losing air too quickly. I lost sight of Valor and Bradon as my strength flagged, leeching out of my torn wing and dripping into the void. My magic was fraying apart, just like it had in Rya's atrium; the strain of holding this form was too much.

It was difficult to keep from spinning out of control, the muscles in my shoulders burning as we banked, toppled and fell in nauseating turns. I thought I heard a faint thud and saw that Valour had collided with the mountainside below, finally at peace after all he had suffered. A single raven flew out of the settling dust, startled by the sudden impact, and then we were whirling and fighting for balance again, two insects flickering in the peripheral vision of three uncaring Gods.