DIES IRAE
"They are beautiful," Umbra said.
She stood beside him on the walls of Confutatis, staring down into the field. The wind swayed her black hair. Her eyes were narrowed. A small smile twisted the corners of her mouth. She placed one hand on her hip, the other on his shoulder, and licked her lips.
"They are beautiful," Dies Irae agreed, "they are strong, and they will kill the weredragons."
The army roared below in the field, the greatest army he had ever mustered.
"Come," he said to Umbra, "let us walk between the troops. Let us inspect them."
They descended the city wall and walked into the field. Umbra slung her arm through his, a wolf's grin across her face. They approached the army's vanguard—thousands of howling mimics—and walked between their formations.
"Fifty thousand mimics scream here," Dies Irae said. "The world's greatest soldiers."
The mimics bared teeth, screeched, and banged their blades against their shields. Stench rose from them, and their eyes blazed. Some had the heads, legs, or claws of animals. Others sprouted many arms. A few towered twenty feet tall, giants stitched from gobbets of leftover flesh.
Dies Irae stopped by a burly mimic with a bull's head and four arms. Its hands held an axe, a spear, a sword, and a warhammer.
"Look at this one, Umbra. Look at the hand holding the axe. Do you recognize this hand?"
Umbra gasped. Her grin widened. "It's her hand. The hand we cut."
Dies Irae nodded, smiling silently.
Umbra laughed. "Brilliant, my lord! I hope that hand cuts the rest of Agnus Dei."
"Come, I will show you more."
For long moments, they walked by the lines of howling mimics, until they emerged from the vanguard and approached the left flank. Thousands of snowbeasts drooled here, towering creatures of white, loose skin hanging over knobby bones. Seven feet tall, they looked to Dies Irae like great white spiders, or perhaps furless cats with six legs.
"Their legs are fast, and their jaws will tear into weredragon flesh," he said.
Umbra caressed one. "They are beautiful."
They continued walking. Past the snowbeasts, they reached a battalion of skeletons. Wispy beards, flakes of old skin, and rusty armor clung to them. They held spears and their eye sockets glowed.
"The skeletons of Fidelium," Dies Irae said. "I have freed them from two thousand years of underground shame. They will fight for me now."
Umbra's own eyes seemed to glow. Her breath grew heavy. "I love them, my lord. Show me more."
They walked between the skeletons, passing row after row of them. Finally they reached an army of great reptiles, the size of dragons, who growled and snapped their teeth. A thousand of them roared as Dies Irae and Umbra walked between them.
Umbra's cheeks flushed, and her lips parted. "What are they?" she breathed.
"Swamp reptiles," Dies Irae answered. "Terrors from Gilnor. They are as large as dragons, and with larger teeth."
"Show me more," Umbra begged. "I want more, my lord."
He nodded. They kept walking. They reached a field where twisted, scaly creatures stood. They looked like men, but fish scales covered them. Their eyes bulged. Some had eyeballs that hung on stalks. Their fingers were webbed, their arms long and twisted. Blood dripped from sores on their faces.
Umbra bit her lip in delight. "What are these things, my lord?"
"They are the Poisoned," he answered. "Years ago, with green smoke from my dungeons, I turned many weredragons into these things. Today I found peasants, prisoners, soldiers who were once men; they are the new Poisoned, and they will fight for us with tooth and claw."
Umbra trembled in delight. "Show me more."
He took her past the Poisoned, and to a field where thousands of nightshades coiled. They shrieked, took flight, and roiled above them. They looked like storm clouds, creatures of black smoke, thunder, and lightning. Their eyes blazed like stars. Their mouths snapped, showing and hiding smoky white teeth.
"They hunger for weredragon souls," Dies Irae said. "The weredragons will not have a chance to use their Beams this time. The nightshades will swoop from the clouds and break them."
Umbra panted. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes closed. "More, my lord."
He led her past the nightshades into a field drenched with blood.
"Here, Umbra. My proudest creations."
She screamed in delight. "Sun God!"
Five thousand mimic dragons roared before them. They took flight and circled above, showering droplets of blood. Their wings were made of human skin. Their bones and flesh were sewn together from thousands of bodies. Fifty Animating Stones pulsed inside each one's breast. When they screamed, the sound shook the earth.
He looked at Umbra. She held her hands to her chest, gasping.
"This army will descend upon Requiem," he told her. "The weredragons have defeated scattered enemies before. Now they will face an army such as the world has never seen. Soon we will have their heads."
She stared at him, eyes blazing, lips parted. She panted. Such cruelty in this one, he thought. Such strength, such hatred, such fire.
When Gloriae had served him, she had never shown fire, only ice. Gloriae had always been so cold, so calculating. But Umbra... this one was a demon's daughter, a creature of shadow and malice. Dies Irae pulled her toward him, clutched her throat, and squeezed her body. She gasped and her eyes shone.
"You will bear me sons," he said.
She bared her teeth. "Sons who will lead. Sons who will bring fear to the world." She clenched her fists. "Sons who will rule a land with no weredragons."
He pushed her to the ground. She lay in the dust and mimic blood, looking up at him. He tore her bodice open, exposing her goose-bumped flesh, and she growled. He took her violently, until she screamed, and the mimic dragons screamed above. When he was done, he dragged her through the mud, and returned with her to the city walls. They climbed atop the tallest guard tower. They stood above this grand army, this sea of dark wonders, this glory and power and lust and blood. He raised his arms, and they howled. The mimics brandished blades, the snowbeasts snapped their teeth, the skeletons clanked, the swamp lizards growled, the Poisoned screamed, the nightshades screeched, the dragons roared.
Dies Irae smiled.
He put his arm around Umbra's waist.
"We march now," he said. "We march to victory and glory. You will march by my side."
She drew her daggers and snarled. "I will kill by your side."
"We march to Requiem!" he called to his army. Their howls shook the city. The sun itself seemed to tremble. With dust and noise and fury, they marched.
LACRIMOSA
She wiped Agnus Dei's forehead, kissed it, and lifted the bowl of soup.
"You must eat, Agnus Dei. Kyrie made soup."
She held the bowl up to her daughter's lips. Lying on a pile of furs, Agnus Dei sipped, winced, and spat it out. She coughed.
"The pup... he's flying too slow. We must reach Salvandos. We have to keep flying."
She coughed again and trembled. Her face was pale, and her eyelids fluttered. More sweat beaded on her brow. Lacrimosa had lit a fire at the cave's entrance, but it was still cold here, so cold that she was always shivering. She rearranged the furs covering Agnus Dei.
"Salvandos is far away, sweetheart. You flew there already with Kyrie, do you remember? It was in the summer. Drink the soup, Agnus Dei. It'll help you."
She held the bowl up again, but Agnus Dei only coughed when she sipped and shivered. Her forehead was so hot. Lacrimosa kept the bowl up, and sip by sip, Agnus Dei managed to drink half the bowl.
The campfire cast flickering light against the cave walls. This place lay far north in the ruins of Requiem, in the mountains where few dragons had ever flown. It was a hidden place, but Lacrimosa did not feel safe here. We hide, but he'll find us, she thought. Dies Irae's armies will scour this land, and they will find us anywhere we hide.
She touched her daughter's cheek. "It's time," she whispered.
Agnus Dei shut her eyes, mumbled, and nodded.
Lacrimosa pulled back the furs, revealing Agnus Dei's left arm. It ended with a wet bandage, one of only two bandages they owned. Blood and pus painted the bandage red and yellow. It smelled of infection.
Wincing, Lacrimosa unpeeled the bandage. Agnus Dei grimaced and clenched her fist. Sweat poured down her face.
"This will hurt," Lacrimosa whispered.
But Agnus Dei did not hear. She had lost consciousness again. Her eyes moved under her lids, and her lips mumbled.
Lacrimosa had only one bottle of spirits left; Gloriae had found it in an abandoned inn ten leagues east. Lacrimosa took a deep breath and splashed the wound. In her sleep, Agnus Dei winced, trembled, and mumbled.
"Dada," she said. "Dada, please, they'll hurt you. You have to fly. You have to fly, Dada."
Struggling to keep her fingers steady, Lacrimosa replaced the old bandage with the new one, then wiped the sweat off Agnus Dei's brow. They had done all they could. They had filed down the bone's sharp edges, removed the burned flesh, and sewn it over with skin. And yet the stump still festered. For the past two days, Agnus Dei only woke briefly from unconsciousness. Lacrimosa worried that soon she would not wake at all.
She shut her eyes. Please, stars. Please. I lost my husband; don't let me lose my daughter too.
Wings flapped, and Lacrimosa looked outside the cave. She saw two dragons block the stars. Soon Kyrie and Gloriae landed at the cave, shifted into humans, and walked in.
"More spirits," Gloriae said. She held out a bottle. "We flew for hours, and finally found the bottle in a town two leagues east of the border."
"And another blanket," Kyrie said, holding it out. "Warm fur. We also found flour, a jar of honey, and three jars of apple preserves; they're in my pack."
They walked to Agnus Dei and knelt by her. Kyrie kissed her lips, and Gloriae wiped her forehead.
"Watch over her," Lacrimosa said. "Call me if she wakes up."
Before they could answer, she stood up and stepped outside the cave. Her eyes stung and she shivered. The night was cold, and her breath frosted before her. She stood on the mountain and looked at the stars. The Draco constellation shone there.
"Winter has come," she whispered. "It has covered Requiem in snow, and it has covered my heart in ice. I'm scared, Ben."
She looked at the Draco stars. They seemed so cold, so far from her.
"He's coming here to kill our family," she whispered. "He'll have armies, greater than any we've seen. And... I don't know how to face them, Ben. I don't know how I can protect our children." Her eyes dampened. "Agnus Dei is hurt, and her fever won't break. I'm scared." She tightened her cloak around her. "Are you up there, Ben? Are you watching over me? If so, give me strength. Guide me, Ben, for I'm afraid and lost."
The stars glistened, casting rays of light, blurring behind her tears. Lacrimosa rubbed her eyes, but the stars still seemed misty. Strands of starlight spread out from them like cobwebs. Lacrimosa gasped. The strands moved through the night and connected the stars in her constellation, forming the shape of a dragon. In the star maps she'd read in childhood, scribes would connect the stars with lines, accentuating the shape of each constellation. Does some scribe now paint these lines in the sky? Ben, are you up there, pulling a great brush between our starlit halls? As she watched the starry dragon, Lacrimosa felt peace spread through her like those strands of starlight.
She stepped back into the cave.
"Children!" she called. "Come outside. Come see."
Gloriae and Kyrie leaped to their feet and drew their swords.
"What is it?" Kyrie said.
Gloriae snarled. "Mimics."
Lacrimosa shook her head. "No mimics. Come look. Let's carry Agnus Dei outside. I want her to see this."
Gloriae and Kyrie exchanged uneasy glances, and cautioned that Agnus Dei could not be moved, but Lacrimosa insisted. Alcohol and bandages had not staved off infection; if anything could save Agnus Dei, maybe it was this miracle.
Agnus Dei moaned when they carried her outside, and her skin burned, but once the starlight hit her, her face seemed calmer to Lacrimosa, her skin cooler. They lay her on a fur blanket in the night air.
"Look, Agnus Dei," Lacrimosa whispered, holding her daughter's hand. "Your father is up there. He's watching us."
Agnus Dei's eyes fluttered open. She looked at the dragon in the stars. A smile touched her lips.
"Hi, Father," she whispered. "I'd wave, but... Mother's holding one of my hands, and I think Dies Irae is holding the other."
Gloriae gaped at the sky. The starlight glinted in her eyes, painted her hair silver, and kissed her cheeks. "What does it mean?" she said, voice awed.
Lacrimosa pulled her close and kissed her cheek. "Hope," she whispered.
DIES IRAE
They marched through the empire, feet shaking the earth, howls splitting the sky.
Dies Irae rode before his army upon a black mimic horse, its fur matted and its mouth foaming. When he looked over his shoulder, he snarled and grinned. A hundred thousand warriors marched behind him, covering the countryside like spilling oil, swallowing the empire beneath them. Thousands of nightshades and mimic dragons circled above, shrieking.
"We draw near Requiem, my lord," Umbra said, riding her mimic horse up beside him. She wore no armor and bore no sword. She was a Blood Wolf, and she rode to war as one, garbed in black. Her leather boots rose to her knees over her leggings, and six daggers hung from her belt.
Dies Irae nodded. "The ruins of Requiem lie beyond the mountains ahead." He scanned the horizon and saw a town below those mountains. Chimney smoke rose in fifty columns; there would be survivors there. His grin widened. "We will stop before crossing the mountains, and we will dine."
Umbra licked her lips.
They rode toward the town, the army roaring and drooling behind. When they got closer, Dies Irae saw a hundred cottages, a temple, and several fields. Soon he rode through the streets, Umbra at his side. His army surrounded the town like ants around a fallen piece of fruit. The streets were empty.
"The peasants are hiding," Dies Irae said.
Umbra looked around, eyes narrowed. "Like rats."
"Burn them out, Umbra. Burn these rats' nests."
Soon she held two torches, and ran from house to house, setting their thatch roofs afire. The rats began to flee. They ran out of their houses, haggard peasants, their clothes tattered, their faces gaunt. Some began to run to the mountain, wailing.
"Dine, my lovelies!" Dies Irae called. "Dine upon them."
The mimic dragons swooped. The nightshades flowed between them. The mimics and monsters stormed from house to house, grabbing whoever they could. It only took moments, and the lucky ones feasted. The unlucky creatures, those who could not catch a peasant, growled and screamed. Some began to eat one another. Blood splattered the town.
Umbra emerged from the smoke, manhandling a peasant girl. She held a dagger to the girl's neck.
"I found one for us to dine on," she said.
Dies Irae smiled. The girl was thin but comely, about the same age as his daughters. She had red hair, white skin, and teary eyes.
"We too will dine," he agreed.
He dragged the wench to the town square, backhanded her, and shoved her against the well. Umbra sat on the well's edge, smirking, and held the girl down as Dies Irae lifted her skirts. The girl struggled as he took her, and Umbra laughed. When he was done, he tossed the weeping girl toward a group of mimics.
"Enjoy," he told them.
They leaped upon her, drooling and howling, and she screamed.
Soon his army moved again, marching, shuffling, crawling, flying. They howled, they drooled, they screeched and moaned and growled and hissed. They oozed into the mountains, leaving the light of Osanna behind, spilling into the mountains of Requiem's ruin.
"Soon I will have you, Lacrimosa," Dies Irae whispered as he rode at the van. "Soon I will hurt you, Agnus Dei and Gloriae. Soon I will break you, Kyrie Eleison. You will be my basest mimics, pathetic slaves to my warriors' lusts."
Umbra fingered her daggers. "Your glory will soon cover the world."
The ruined town faded in the distance. Requiem rolled ahead.
AGNUS DEI
Strange dreams filled her world.
She saw strands of starlight form a dragon in the stars. She saw mimics bearing her face, fifty thousand strong, marching through snow and ash. She saw her father, clad in dark green and silver, ruling in a marble palace, his eye sockets empty and bleeding. They smiled at her, this dragon, these mimics, her father, smiles that flowed around her head. When she reached for them, they vanished and laughed, flowing into the sound of sad pipes and wind through tunnels.
"Mother," she whispered. "Mother, the Poisoned... I have to burn them. I have to. I have to save the scrolls."
Mother held her hand. "They're gone, sweetness. The Poisoned are gone."
Agnus Dei blinked. "But we need to find the Beams, Mother. They're in a swamp, I think. The pup said something about a swamp."
He touched her cheek, that pup, his face blurry. Was he truly there? She heard him.
"Rest, kitten. Don't worry about the Beams."
She tried to see him, to blink, to clear her eyes. But she saw only tunnels stretching before her, diving under mountain and ruins. Skeletons surrounded her. Was Father one of these skeletons? She tried to find him.
"Father! Father, don't worry. You can be a skeleton. I'll be one soon too. I don't care, but Mother will say I'm too thin."
Her left hand hurt. She could feel the fingers twisting. Someone was burning it.
"No, Umbra, please," she begged and wept. "Let me go."
But the woman only chained her down, and stars, no, please, no....
She heard the hiss. A sword being drawn. His sword.
"Please, Irae... Mother, help me!"
Stars, it's gone. My hand is gone. How could it be gone? Where is it?
She had to find it. She had to. The pup will hate me without a hand. He'll leave me. He'll go be with Gloriae. She had beautiful hands.
Tears streamed down Agnus Dei's face, so hot. I'm like him now. I'm like Dies Irae.
"He'll take my other hand," she whispered, trembling. "Please, Mother, he'll take my leg. Please don't let him."
Arms embraced her. "I won't let him, sweetheart. I promise."
Where was she? Who was holding her?
"Mother!"
She fell into tunnels. She wanted to stay with her mother, with her sister, with her pup. But the tunnels pulled her down. Pain! Fire on her hand. The fingers moved.
I am mimic. My hand is cruel. My hand will hurt me. Stars, it's gone. How could it be gone? Please, Irae, please.
She saw her hand before her. It rose from the shadows, speckled in blood. It wielded an axe toward her. Please, don't cut my other hand....
The hand grew from a mimic with four arms and a bull's head. Its hair was long, black, curly, rustling with bugs. Its eyes mocked her. It smiled, showing pointed teeth and a slobbering tongue.
"Agnus Dei," it hissed. "He will cut your head. He will make you a mimic like me." It tightened her hand around the axe. Worms crawled over the knuckles.
She trembled. She tried to kick, to fight it, but was too weak. The darkness pulled her. The heat! Fire burned her hand, her forehead, her lungs. Sweat drenched her.
"The nightshades broke me," she whispered. "They're pulling me into their worlds, into the shadows."
The darkness shattered her, tugged her into pieces, drowned her. Fire everywhere. Pain and fire. Her eyes rolled back. I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry, Gloriae. I'm sorry, Kyrie. I don't want to leave you. I love you all so much.
Golden light rolled across her, like the hint of dawn over a swaying field.
"Mother?"
The heat left her.
The pain vanished.
When she opened her eyes, she saw light like feathers. It tickled her face. Blue wisps floated above them; bits of sky. She heard rustling leaves, and saw rolling hills, rays of light between birches, and columns of white marble. Figures robed in white floated before her, harps in hand.
"Requiem?" she whispered.
Snowy mountains and valleys of pines spread before her. A great mountain soared ahead, all in gold, dragons flying around it, bugling, sunlight on their scales. They were true dragons, wingless, limbless, flying serpents of brilliant colors, of fluttering white beards, of crystal eyes.
"Salvanae!" she said. She smiled softly under their light. "I am here again, in Salvandos. I remember flying here with Kyrie."
Tears flowed down her cheeks. Was this the afterlife—to spend eternity with the salvanae? Hope welled within her and she wept. This was a good place to die.
I'll wait here for you, she swore to her family. One day we'll fly here together.
A golden salvana flew toward her, coiling and uncoiling. His white moustache and beard fluttered in the wind. His eyes were the size of melons, spinning and glowing.
"Nehushtan!" Agnus Dei cried. "It's me. Agnus Dei. Do you remember?"
She found herself lying in grass in human form. Nehushtan floated above her. He lowered his head, so that his beard brushed against her. His head was larger than her human body. His eyes blinked, his long white lashes fanning her.
"Wake, daughter of stars," he said, his voice like harps. "The song of Requiem calls you."
Stars floated around her, spun, streamed. But I am awake, she thought. I live among the stars.
Somebody squeezed her hand, and she heard Mother's voice.
"Wake up, Agnus Dei. Open your eyes. It's not yet your time to leave me."
But my eyes are open, she thought. I can see beauty and light.
Yet she managed to open them again. New light shone. She gasped, and cold air filled her lungs, scented of mountains. Nehushtan seemed to smile at her, teeth glinting, moustache fluttering. His golden scales chinked and glimmered as he floated. Behind him, thousands of other salvanae hovered in the sky, their long bodies undulating like snakes in water.
"Mother?" she whispered. She looked to her right and saw Mother sitting there, the salvanae's light against her face. Kyrie and Gloriae sat there too, their eyes soft.
"Agnus Dei." Mother kissed her forehead and caressed her cheek. "How do you feel?"
She blinked. "I feel better. I... am I dreaming? I see the true dragons, Mother. Thousands of them. Are we in Salvandos?"
"You are in Requiem still," said Nehushtan, his voice like crinkling old paper and the wind in pines. "We saw the strands in our stars, and sang to them, and heard your prayers sing with ours. So we flew here, daughter of Draco, and we will help you again. We sang too for your healing."
Agnus Dei gasped and raised her left arm. For an instant, she hoped to see her hand regrown. That hope crashed. Her arm still ended with a stump, though the wound was healed. Instead of infected stitches, she saw pale, smooth skin.
"Thank you," she said softly, though she could not feel joy. She felt, instead, only shame. Her wound was healed, but her arm looked strange to her, deformed. Tears stung her eyes. She was still crippled. Impure. Ugly.
Agnus Dei looked at Kyrie, her pup. Does he think I'm a freak now? A gruesome cripple? Will he still love me? Or will he leave me for Gloriae, who is whole and still beautiful? Suddenly she wished he'd look away. She wanted to hide her arm, to never show it to anyone again. She lowered her eyes.
"Oh, pup," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
He shifted closer. "Sorry for what?"
That I'm like this, she wanted to say. That I'll be forever different. But she could not bring those words to her lips. Instead, she looked up at him, her pup, her love, her best friend, and she said, "I love you."
His eyes softened, and he scooped her into his arms, and kissed her. His hands held her head, and she placed her good hand on his back. They kissed in the light of the true dragons, and tears flowed down her face.
"I love you too," he said, holding her. "I'll always love you, Agnus Dei."
Laughter burst from her lips, surprising her. She pinched his cheek. "You really are a pup, do you know that?"
She looked over his shoulder at the mountains and valleys of Requiem. The snow was melting. Winter would soon end. Beams of dawn fell between the thousands of salvanae. War would come here, Agnus Dei knew. Dies Irae would march into these lands with all his might and malice. But that is tomorrow, she thought. Today... today life is beautiful.
Gloriae leaned down, kissed her cheek, and smiled. Mother held her good hand. They sat on the mountainside, embracing one another, watching the sunrise.
TERRA
When he saw the army in the distance, he felt the blood leave his face.
"Stars," he whispered. "Down, Memoria!"
They dived, landed on a snowy mountainside, and shifted into humans. Wind moaned, flurrying snow around them, sneaking under his armor like the fingers of ghosts.
"There are thousands," Memoria said, gasping. "A hundred thousand."
Terra narrowed his eyes. It was hard to see from here. The army moved leagues away, a black stain upon the ruins of Requiem, oozing forward. He could hear faded roars and battle cries, a sound like an angry sea. Creatures flew over the army, thousands of them, like murders of crows. They were too distant to see clearly, but they had to be massive, the size of dragons.
He scowled. "This army was mustered to kill the last Vir Requis."
Memoria clutched the hilt of her sword, as if that sword could defeat such an army. "To kill Agnus Dei, and to kill Kyrie," she said.
Terra stared at this spreading black puddle, his stomach twisting. He was no stranger to war. He was a bellator, a knight of Requiem. He had fought griffins at Draco Murus, the Poisoned in Requiem's tunnels, the giants of the north. But this.... Terra had never seen forces that chilled him so. Strange things moved there. He saw the shapes of great beasts towering over smaller troops, and he saw stars and lightning crackle between the creatures that flew. This army marched with dark magic.
"They move slowly," he said. "We fly fast. Let's find Kyrie."
Memoria nodded. "The ruins of Requiem's palace. King's Column. So long as Vir Requis live, that column will stand." Her eyes dampened. "I know Kyrie. He's there."
If he's alive, Terra thought, but said nothing. Memoria believed. Let her cling to hope while she can. Hope might be all we've got.
"Let's fly," Memoria said. "I remember the way. Follow m—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a distant shriek rose. Terra cursed. A dozen flying beasts, the size of specks from here, disengaged from the army and came flying toward them.
"They saw us," he said. "Damn it. Let's fly!"
He shifted into a dragon, roared fire, and soared. Memoria flew beside him, snow flurrying around her green scales. They flew west, the clouds streaming around them, the snow slapping their faces. The mountaintops rose around them. When Terra looked over his shoulder, he saw his pursuers gaining on them.
"Those things are fast," he said.
"So are we. Fly, Terra!"
He narrowed his body, flapped his wings mightily, and shot forward through the wind and snow. He growled and fire filled his mouth. He looked behind him again and cursed.
"Damn it! They're gaining on us. What are they?"
Jaw clenched, Memoria looked over her shoulder, and her eyes narrowed.
"They look... they look like dragons," she said.
Terra shook his head. "No. Not dragons. But whatever they are, there are six of them, and two of us. Fly higher. We'll lose them in the clouds."
They soared and crashed into the snow clouds. Wind, ice, and snow stung Terra's eyes. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes to slits, pushing himself forward. He couldn't see ten feet around him.
"Memoria, are you with me?" he shouted.
Her voice came from the clouds to his left. "Right beside you. Fly against the wind; it'll take us to the ruins of the palace."
And maybe slow down those creatures following us, he thought. He kept flying, driving through the clouds, and heard the screeches behind him. They were closer.
"They're fast bastards," he said.
Green scales flashed beside him between strands of clouds. "What the stars are those things? They were leagues away only moments ago."
Terra grunted. "Friends of Dies Irae."
The siblings kept flying, driving through the storm until the clouds parted. They found themselves over valleys of toppled ruins and fallen trees. Marble columns, each a hundred feet long, lay fallen like so many sticks below them. Snow dappled the ruins like patches of leprosy. The cries sounded again behind them, like the sound of butchered elephant seals. When Terra turned his head, he saw the creatures emerge from the clouds, only five hundred yards away.
"Bloody stars," he muttered. Beside him, Memoria gasped.
They were dragons, or at least, shaped as such. They were sewn together from the dead. Men's bodies, trussed up like hams, formed their necks. Their wings seemed made of human bones and skin. Their tails, their bodies, their limbs, their heads; all were patched from body parts, sewn together, rotting and wormy. They opened their maws and squealed.
Mimic dragons. Lovely.
He felt the Animating Stones; their curse slammed against him, tugging at his magic. Memoria grimaced; she felt it too.
Around their necks, Adoria's Hands opened.
The mimic dragons shrieked and flew at them, claws extended.
Terra and Memoria blew their fire.
The streams of flame roared, crackled, and hit two mimic dragons. They screamed and burned, their skin peeling, their flesh blistering. The four others flew around them, lightning fast, and blazed toward Terra and Memoria.
Terra had no time to muster more fire. The things moved so fast, he could barely see them. Two crashed into him, their claws—they seemed made of sharpened femurs—lashing at him.
Those claws scratched his side. He growled and bit. His teeth sank into soft, rotten flesh. It tore free easily, filling his mouth with juices and dead flies. The taste made him gag. He spat and clawed, hitting the beast's head.
It growled and bit, and its teeth broke several of Terra's scales. Roaring, Terra flapped his wings, kicked, and pushed himself back. He swiped his tail, hit the creature's head, and blew fire.
The mimic dragon burned. Its skin peeled back as it screamed. Its stitches melted. The bodies composing it came loose and began falling from the sky—men, women, children, pale and rubbery.
"Terra!" his sister cried.
He growled and flew toward her. Three mimic dragons surrounded her, scratching. Terra roasted one and swung his tail at another. Before it could recover, he swiped his claws, bit, and tore its head off. Memoria burned the last mimic dragon, and it fell to the ruins below, coming apart into two dozen bodies.
"That was easy," Terra muttered, rubbing a wound at his side.
Memoria growled. "I hear more."
Terra heard them too. It sounded like hundreds were flying in the clouds, moving closer. Once they emerge from the clouds, they'll see us.
"To the ground," Terra said and began to dive. "We continue on foot, as humans."
They dived, the air whistling around them, the snow stinging them. The clouds growled and the mimics screamed in the distance. They landed by a fallen tower, shifted into humans, and crawled under the ruins.
"Damn," Memoria whispered, peeking through the ruins to the sky. Snow filled her hair and kissed her cheeks pink.
Terra grumbled. A hundred mimic dragons emerged from the clouds above, squealing. Their wings creaked and roiled the snow. How are we to defeat so many, even with Adoria's Hands?
Memoria clasped his hand. "Do you think... do you think these things found Kyrie?"
Terra shook his head. "If Kyrie survived this long, he's good at hiding, at fighting, at living. If he's alive, we'll find him." Terra... I found him. He grabbed his sword. "We'll look in the west. We'll look at King's Column."
The mimics above shrieked and flew over them, soon disappearing into the distance. Terra and Memoria hid for long moments, shivering in the cold. Finally they crawled out of hiding and began to walk. Their feet ached, their teeth chattered, and their limbs were weak with hunger and wounds.
When Terra looked behind him, he saw that black puddle oozing over the horizon. He cursed and quickened his step.