Kairos 63: Lurking Shadows

As promised in last month's poll, today is a double Kairos chapter day (to make up for the double Perfect Run post earlier). Underland will start publication on Tuesday 7th.

----------------------

A mist had risen over Travian waters, and a small boat soundlessly threaded its way down the current.

Her face hidden beneath a crimson hood and a traveling cloak, Julia sat at the back, a rapier around her belt. Though she had two bodyguards rowing the vessel, and Caenis to warn her of impending attacks, the Queen of Histria felt naked without a weapon on herself. As a [Duelist], wielding a sword came as naturally as a cat sharpening its claws.

Her enhanced hearing picked up movement in the dark water, and her eyes a ghostly shape in the heart of the fog.

“Caenis, if you would kindly light the way,” Julia asked. Her lover raised a lantern, and the shadow of a galley appeared out of the mist. The larger vessel swung to the small boat’s side, pushed by two banks of oars. Its figurehead represented an armored hoplite woman, whom Julia recognized as Cynisca, a famous Orthian chariot rider.

Not very subtle.

Julia rose on her feet, as soldiers on the galley’s deck dropped a rope ladder over the rail. “Only you,” a voice came from the galley. “Nobody else.”

“Milady...” one of her bodyguards said, clearing his throat.

“I will be fine,” the queen replied, before glancing at Caenis. “Won’t I?”

The seer responded with a nod, but to Julia’s surprise, Caenis appeared incredibly nervous. Could it be that she feared for her own life? Caenis might have only foreseen her mistress surviving, and worried about her own safety.

Julia couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Caenis—”

“It’s alright,” Caenis interrupted her. “It’s alright.”

Julia frowned, but when the hoplites started to grow impatient she climbed the ladder. Usually, such effort wouldn’t even have winded her, but she found herself struggling a bit more than usual.

I will miss this kind of exercise in a few months, Julia thought. She had suffered from nausea yesterday, and it would only take a few weeks before her belly started to harden. The queen could feel her body changing to accommodate the child growing inside her, her breasts starting to swell. I hope I won’t gain too much weight.

It might have sounded childish, but Julia was proud of her slim figure, both out of coquetry and martial pride. A duelist lived and died by their dexterity. The werewolf relished the adrenaline rush of intense exercise and intense sword clashes.

She would hate spending months sitting at home, waiting to deliver.

A hoplite soldier helped her climb onto the deck, and soon Julia found herself face to face with another ruler. “Queen Euthenia,” Julia said, while offering a courtly reverence.

“Lady Marius,” Queen Euthenia replied with far less deference. The woman in front of Julia looked little like the foreign diplomat who witnessed her wedding to Kairos. Euthenia had traded her dress and jewels for a hoplite’s outfit covering her porcelain skin, while a golden masked helmet protected her entire face except for the eyes. Julia found it exquisitely crafted, and it only added to the intensity of the blue gaze peering through the eye holes. “You dressed better the last time we met.”

“A maiden is never as beautiful as on the day of her wedding.” Julia couldn’t help but leer at the Orthian queen’s splendid curves, barely hidden beneath her armor. “You will blind half the witnesses during yours.”

“I have no interest in marriage,” Euthenia replied with disgust. Her hand instinctively brushed against a sheathed glaive around her belt. “Males have looked at me like a piece of meat since before I even flowered.”

“They did the same with me.” Many women too, Julia thought with a mischievous smile, and some did more than look. “I took it as a compliment.”

“I did not.”

Julia observed the masked queen for a moment, trying to understand her personality better. She loathes her own face, the werewolf thought, her eyes wandering to the Orthian’s blade. She would rather be recognized as a great warrior and leader, than as Thessala’s most beautiful queen.

“First of all, I would like to apologize for what happened during my wedding,” Julia said, her thoughts souring at the feast’s memory. “If I had known Mithridates’ plan, I would have done everything in my power to save your nephew’s life.”

Euthenia snorted. “Spare me your false sympathy, Lycean. Mithridates might have slain my nephew, but your brother made it possible and your husband slew too many of my kindred. We will never be friends.”

“No, I suppose not, but we have an enemy in common.” Julia walked towards the galley’s bow and put a hand on the rail. “One corrupting your city as we speak.”

“Do you trust your escort?” Queen Euthenia asked, her own hands behind her back.

“As much as I can trust anyone,” Julia replied. Caenis was her bedmate, and she brought bodyguards that had served her family in Lyce for years. She had left her husband’s gladiators at home, to look after Aurelia.

“The wiser answer would have been no. Mithridates has spies everywhere, and his shadow looms larger every day.” Euthenia glanced through the blowing fog, and Julia noticed the shadow of the Travian coast beyond the barrier of mist. “I am taking a great risk in meeting you, especially so close to enemy territory.”

“Who would seek an Orthian queen in Travian waters?” Julia replied. Caenis had identified this location as the safest place possible, largely because only pirates allied with Kairos patrolled these waters. “You brought soldiers with you.”

“People loyal to me, and not to my co-rulers. But their numbers are shrinking by the day. Antipater has used his control over the army to initiate a purge in Orthia, and the city intends to support Mithridates as the League’s new Strategos.”

Just as Julia had worried. “What about Thessala? If they refuse to endorse him, this will delay his ascension to power.”

“Mithridates sounds almost unconcerned about the possibility,” Euthenia replied. “Antipater seems convinced that the [Demigod] Talos will side with them.”

“Why would he?” Julia asked. Talos had sworn an oath of loyalty to the city of Thessala, which he served as a patron and defender. The maker of automatons only took up arms if urged by the citizen assembly and its archons.

“I do not know, but I would be a fool to underestimate Mithridates.” Euthenia locked eyes with Julia. “I heard that the cities of Gortyn, Issa, and Apollonia plan to secede from the Thessalan League.”

“They will, if Mithridates is elected Strategos,” Julia replied. It was already an open secret among Lycean political circles. “These cities have prospered thanks to trade with Lyce, and Mithridates’ ascension would put an end to it. My brother will reinforce them militarily, if needed.”

“It won’t be an invasion if Lyce only defends its allies,” Euthenia said with heavy sarcasm. “You wolves disgust me. You have all the land you would ever need, and yet you still hunger for more.”

“My brother will only intervene if they secede and are attacked afterward,” Julia pointed out. “If I remember, the Thessalan League’s rules allow its cities to leave the alliance.”

“True, but Mithridates will never allow it. He wants to unify the League, not see it splinter. No doubt he intends to use that secret weapon of his to bring rebel cities to heel.”

“What is he building exactly?” Julia asked. The question had frustrated her for weeks. “I have done my best to infiltrate his arsenal to no avail.”

“Arsenals,” Euthenia replied. “Plural. The one in Pergamon only builds part of the structure. Others create new components, and they are all assembled in a secret location I have been unable to track down. It is an impressive display of logistics.”

What could be so complex as to need multiple workshops to develop? “Do you know the locations of the other arsenals?”

“I can tell that the wood used doesn’t come from Pergamon, or any city in the Thessalan League for that matter.”

Julia squinted. “Queen Teuta’s lands are rich in timber.”

“That was my thought as well. You should pay more attention to your countrymen.”

Julia didn’t bother to answer that jab. She might have married a Travian, but she remained a Lycean to the bone and proud of it. Her loyalties were to her family, husband and child included, then her new kingdom, and finally to Lyce, in that order.

Euthenia’s eyes sorrowfully wandered to the dark waters around her ship. One shuddered to think what horrors hid in the depths. “He will be elected after the Olympic Games, pro-Lycean cities will secede, and then war will engulf the Thessalan League. Whoever wins, my city will lose.”

“You could join us,” Julia pointed out. “Choose the winning side.”

“Arrogant, aren’t you?”

“Confident, Your Majesty. If you wish to avenge your nephew’s poisoning, you should help us take down Mithridates. I am thankful for the information you provided, but swords win wars. I am certain Orthia would prosper better under one queen, rather than three bickering rulers.”

“So I would become your puppet, rather than Mithridates’? And let the murder of my brother Lysander and his wife go unavenged?” Euthenia shook her head in disgust. “I want to see Mithridates lose, but I don’t want to see your brute of a husband win either. I only help in the hope of seeing them kill each other.”

She will never love us, Julia thought. But I sense a vulnerability. “You love your city.”

“I do. I must.”

“There may come a time when you will have to put your people’s wellbeing above your own personal feelings,” Julia replied. “When that moment comes, I suggest you take the hand offered to you.”

The Orthian Queen straightened up, her eyes as icy as winter. “Is that a threat, Lycean?”

“No, an offer.” Julia offered the queen a nod. Though they might not like each other, the werewolf couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for Euthenia. The Orthian woman was trapped between a rock and a hard place, with no way out. “Thank you for your honesty, Your Majesty. I shall not forget it.”

“What will you do now?” Euthenia asked, with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“As you said,” Julia replied while glancing at the Travian coast. “It is time I paid attention to my countrymen.”

They peacefully parted ways afterward, though Euthenia didn’t bid her fellow queen good luck.

Caenis had much stronger words to offer, when Julia explained her intentions. “Lady Julia, no!” she pleaded. “This is madness.”

“All of our spies have failed to gather anything worthwhile so far,” Julia replied. Largely because they lacked the necessary Skills and dedication. “I am a [Spymaster], gathering information is what I do. As they say, when you want something done right, do it yourself.”

“But the risks—”

“Caenis, when my husband didn’t return from Achlys, I dragged a fleet to make him come back. I do not believe in sitting at home.” She would spend enough months doing that already.

In truth, Julia wanted to act on the field while she still could. Afterward, she would have to stay in the colony to avoid complications. The werewolf had no problem trading a sword for intrigue, but she refused to return home safely while her husband worked tirelessly to secure her realm’s future.

Much like Kairos, Julie didn’t believe herself above grunt work when needed.

“Besides, you foresaw that I would live through the evening no?” she asked her seer.

“I did, but…” Caenis nervously bit her lower lip.

“Caenis…”

“There’s something around you, milady.” The seer gathered her breath. “A shroud of darkness. I… I can’t explain it. It’s… you are venturing into a red mist, and it follows you. It is with you here, right now.”

Julia frowned. Considering oracles, the prophecy was best left for interpretation. “Would this ‘shroud’ follow me back home too?”

“I… I think so.”

“Then whether I act no or not is inconsequential. What you saw will happen anyway.”

“Yes. No, but…” Caenis gathered her breath, trying to figure out the right way to say what weighed on her heart. “Milady, there is an evil force at work tonight. I can feel it. A foreboding doom.”

Julia listened intently, before taking the seer into her arms. “Caenis, if this cannot be avoided, then it can only be confronted,” the werewolf whispered, while her lover breathed long and deep. “We must all face our fate someday.”

And she would rather confront it today than bring it back home.

----------------------------------

A red wolf ran through the woods, a shadow hiding in the grass.

For once, Julia was thankful for her curse. Though it had ruined her life in Lyce, her nature as a werewolf came with a few perks. An astute canine sense of smell and natural abilities meshing well with her own stealth-related Skills would soon come in handy.

She had to cover her pristine crimson fur with mud to hide better in the wild, and had to regularly stop to catch smells to avoid the presence of men and beasts. This forest belonged to Pirate Queen Teuta, and she clearly didn’t believe in letting monsters wander close to her settlements. Dangers abounded in these woods, from bear pits to human patrols.

A normal wolf would have fallen into a trap or been discovered, but Julia combined bestial senses with a keen human mind. A part of her had been reluctant to transform for fear of harming her offspring, even though she intellectually knew it wouldn’t affect it.

Julia had asked her mother-in-law about the subject, and Aurelia had reassured her the best she could. Werewolf transformation hadn’t prevented the Marius matriarch from giving birth to Kairos and his siblings… nor made them inherit the curse.

But my child will suffer from it, Julia thought grimly. All the scrolls she had read told her that the descendent of a werewolf and a wolfblood always transformed at puberty. Sometimes even earlier.

Maybe she should ask Andromache for help? The werewolf had no love for the Scylla, but she did have great knowledge of curses. Perhaps the witch could use magic to cure the child in the womb? Besides the social problems associated with it, a werewolf had an innate connection to Lycaon, however distant, and Julia didn’t want her child bound to that wicked beast of a god.

Her keen ears picked up the sound of flapping wings, and Julia stopped beneath the shadow of a tree. A form flew above her, a winged shadow beneath the crescent moon; and for a moment, the she-wolf thought her husband had returned to her.

The moonlight and the presence of another winged shape corrected her. Two armored warriors rode griffins slightly smaller than Rook, one carrying a bow, the other a spear. A third shape joined them above the forest, the group making circles in the skies before following the north star.

Julia knew that some Travians had successfully trained and rode griffons, her husband first among them, but she had never seen an entire squad of them.

Were they the reason why the werewolf hadn’t smelt any monsters so far? She knew that dangerous creatures infested the island, but she had yet to notice anything more dangerous than a sleeping squirrel.

She had to be close. She could already smell the presence of men, and heard the sound of running water.

Julia didn’t have to wait long. She followed a river upstream all the way to a sawmill.

The werewolf had to move very, very carefully from that point. She didn’t make a sound, avoided the moonlight, and stuck to the shadows. Even then, she couldn’t approach any closer than the outskirts, lest she found herself exposed by the guards’ torches. Some of the soldiers had dogs, but the mud on Julia’s fur covered her smell.

She couldn’t observe the full facility, but she saw enough.

A wooden water mill powered an extensive system of gears, cranks, and sliding joints connected to frame saws, allowing them to cut timber into rectangular shapes. A host of engineers worked on the woodwork, protected by guards and assisted by hooded women. Julia watched on as the latter inscribed incantation into planks and wooden rods, chanting spells in the familiar tongue of Achlys.

The Daughters of Circe.

Though Achlys had become neutral with Medea’s death, it seemed that the late witch-queen had sent some spellcasters to assist Mithridates from beyond the grave.

A man oversaw the process, though Julia couldn’t see his face clearly due to the lack of sunlight. He looked tall and strong, with a mighty poleaxe and an armor of manticore fur. The werewolf managed to use [Observer] on him from afar, gleaning his name at least.

Castor Epulon, the Queen’s Axe

Legend: Wicked Twinblade (Hero)

Level: ???

Julia immediately recognized the name as a Travian captain that had been in her husband’s employ, before they married. She didn’t know he was a [Hero] though.

Had he always been a [Hero] and hid his abilities from her husband? Or did he earn a [Legend] in the meantime?

There is something larger at work, Julia thought. Queen Teuta had been Travia’s only [Hero] for years, using this to gather power and followers. And yet in the span of a single year, the number of legendary warriors in Travia’s sphere of influence had increased tremendously. Kairos had gained a [Legend], then Cassandra, Thales too, and now this Castor as well? Julia didn’t believe in coincidences.

And if Teuta had a secret [Hero] in her employ, what else did she hide?

The werewolf spent minutes lurking around the sawmill and spying on the workers. It surprised her that they would work at night, which implied suspicious activities. At first glance, the woodcarvers mostly focused on planks and rods, with the witches empowering them with spells.

It took Julia a moment to understand. Though they lacked the emberlike light and warmth of the real deal, the werewolf identified the wands for what they were.

Fire rods, Julia recognized the weapons. Lesser fire rods.

Only Andromache could successfully craft true fire rods, and she was a [Hero]-Ranked Spellcaster. The witches from Achlys shouldn’t have the Skills necessary to produce these devices, but they could make a poor man’s copy...

But how did they get their hands on the design in the first place?

Julia remembered her husband informing her that he had suspected Captain Castor of being an agent provocateur under Queen Teuta’s employ. Though he had left before the colony developed, this pirate had participated in the fateful battle with Beoetia… and witnessed its fiery end. It would have been child’s play to take one of the fire rods in the confusion and return to Teuta with it.

Ah, so that was why you joined my husband, Julia thought while glaring at Castor. Your queen was after this magical technology from the very start. She knew it would usher in a new era of ship warfare.

Mithridates had probably allied with her long before he even approached Kairos.

And the more Julia saw, the less she liked it. Though the sawmill mostly produced planks and rods, she noticed woodcarvers work on different components. And though the werewolf was no engineer, she had spent enough time around Thales to identify them.

Oars thicker and longer than any she had ever seen; a steering gear as large as the water wheel powering the mill; and a wooden tower shielded by manticore hide, meant to support archers and ballistae.

Having seen enough, Julia immediately fled back into the woods while the moon was slowly vanishing behind the horizon. Dawn would spell her doom, and she had to return to her own ship.

Julia fled back into the woods, trying to piece back everything she had learned so far. The werewolf had wondered why Mithridates would go to such lengths to cover up his mystery project’s true nature, and now she understood why. Others would have stopped the project long before it reached completion, if they had known.

Even with all the information she had gathered, Julia struggled to accept the conclusion she had come to. Her disdain for Mithridates was only matched by her admiration for his boldness. Nobody would see his ultimate weapon coming.

But most importantly, the increasing number of [Heroes] running around worried Julia, as did the existence of [Pantheons]. She could see a pattern at work.

Prometheus had forewarned her husband of three calamities. Perhaps the increasing number of [Heroes] was meant to deal with these prophesied disasters, the Fate System balancing itself? Was a new heroic age dawning upon the Sunsea?

Julia was halfway back to her ship, when she noticed something wrong.

She didn’t smell anything.

Julia should have sensed an animal nearby. A squirrel in a tree, a rat hiding in a hole, even insects eating bark. Yet the forest smelled devoid of life. Where had they all gone?

…

What scared them away?

The werewolf froze among the trees, listening to the wind blowing between the leaves. The grass was cold beneath her feet, the shadows dark and foreboding. Julia couldn’t smell or hear anything, but she could sense something watching her.

Julia showed her fangs, and prepared to defend herself. Show yourself, she thought. I won’t die easily.

The werewolf heard movement in the trees above her, and raised her head. There, she noticed a shape hanging down in the branches, hidden by the leaves. She carefully approached the trunk, her eyes widening in horror as she sensed a new, familiar smell.

A droplet of blood fell down on the grass, the moonlight illuminating the grisly spectacle.

A griffin and its rider had been impaled on a tree’s branches, the corpses hidden behind the leaves. A blade had gutted the beast of burden like a fish, while a spear of wood gored the rider’s neck, keeping him in place.

Impossible! Julia should have smelt the blood, sensed it—

“I have been waiting for you, Flavii.”

A black warhorse stepped out of the night’s shadows, the hooves making no sound as they hit the ground. Julia looked at the rider, and her skull burnt.

No, burning wasn’t the right word. Her mind shattered like glass, as his dark will overpowered her own. He was inside her soul, forcing her to kneel with a thought, making her eyes gaze at him.

Simply watching the rider felt like agony to Julia. His shadowy, legionary armor crept with eldritch darkness, while his funeral mask appeared like the visage of death itself. Euthenia’s helmet had been the apex of charm, but the crimson, bloody eyes of this warrior promised only a painful death.

You have been [Dominated] by Romulus’ [King of the Wild Hunt] Legendary Skill.

He had stalked her long before she arrived on the island, waiting for her to leave her bodyguards behind. Caenis—

“The seer saw what I wanted her to see,” the warrior said after reading her mind, his hand moved to his belt. Julia noticed a sheath’s reflection in the moonlight. “The Wolf-God will not be denied his due.”

She had to escape, but her body wouldn’t move. The fear, and the wolf within her, refused to let her. This… this creature was the supreme master of all werewolves, the alpha of alphas. The spawn of Lycaon himself, speaking with his authority.

The apostle of the Beast Cult, and the bane of the Senex families.

Her brother had mocked this group as a mere shadow, cowardly rogues who only threatened the weak and the unwary. But the thing in front of Julia was no embittered exile bent on revenge, or a moonlighting assassin.

This… this human-shaped thing was the voice of a god.

Julia’s canine legs shook, her breath hastened while she unwillingly revealed her exposed throat to this incarnation of death.

“And now,” the figure said, his crimson eyes shining in the dark. “You will die.”

His hand moved to his pommel, and Julia prepared for the end. She wanted to howl, to bare her fangs, to fight, but she couldn’t even blink. He controlled her mentally, like the curse had ruled her life. She could feel his burning hate simmering beneath the steel, his deep desire to skewer her and watch her blood spill on the grass. But though Julia didn’t fear death, her thoughts turned to the other life within her.

Not my baby, please, she thought. Please.

And her silent prayer made him flinch.

Her thoughts traveled through their psychic connection, and she felt his mind recoil as if he had been slapped. The red light in his eyes wavered for an instant, while his vile gaze traveled down to her belly. His fingers trembled on his sword’s pommel, as if fighting the urge to draw the blade.

“A son?” The voice that came out of the armored figure had lost its cruel, unshakeable confidence. “Or a daughter?”

The words echoed in Julia’s mind, and she sensed invisible hands crawling on her neck to choke it out. She struggled to breathe, as the malicious creature forced her to answer.

I don’t know… Julia thought, and the pain ended.

The man, Romulus, didn’t make a move. The twin holes in his funerary mask had become two black abysses, darker than the night around them. They peered at Julia as if they could skin her mentally, and peered at the seed of life she carried.

He wants to kill me, she realized to her horror, but not the child.

But that made no sense! The Beast Cult had hunted her specifically to make sure she wouldn’t give birth to a male heir for the Flavii family, one capable of maintaining Lycaon’s seal. If anything, knowing of her pregnancy should have made that monster want to murder Julia on the spot.

And yet… and yet though the warrior’s mind remained as impenetrable as the darkness around them, the sword never came out of its sheath. The crimson glow behind the eyeholes returned, but dimmer, and more peaceful.

“Pray for a daughter, woman,” the warrior said, his voice deep as his hand moved away from the pommel. “Or you will make a kinslayer out of me.”

The words were harsh and the threat real, but beneath the coldness, Julia sensed something else. An undercurrent of…

Doubt?

Hesitation?

Whatever the cause, the armored figure’s warhorse vanished between the trees, carrying its rider away. The veil over Julia’s mind lifted, allowing her to think for herself. The moment she could act again, the werewolf fled back to her ship as fast as she could without looking back.

She knew better than to chase after death.

-------------------------------------

“A ship?” Thales asked, as he raised his head from his table. He abandoned the half-finished design of a metal cylinder linked to a furnace, a war machine that he claimed would give a tremendous edge to the colony’s military. Julia hoped that it would prove as devastating as Mithridates’ own superweapon.

“A ship,” the queen replied, before offering him handmade sketches of what she had gleaned in Travia. After leaving at dawn to avoid discovery, Julia had returned to the colony as quickly as she could. A winter storm had nearly fallen upon her ship, but they had managed to return home safely.

Julia hadn’t spoken a word to Caenis on the way back, and the seer had looked at her mistress all night with a worried look. She knew that Julia had encountered something vile and dangerous.

The queen would have a serious conversation with her dearest companion, but not right now. The dark figure’s words still echoed in her mind.

Or you will make a kinslayer out of me.

The implications chilled Julia to the bone. She would have to tell Aurelia, and try to find an explanation.

And this… this horror must have stalked her for weeks, waiting for the right opportunity to ambush her. How did he know that Julia would move to Travia? Did the Beast Cult have spies in the queen’s inner circle? Or did their magic allow them to track her down? The fact that this Romulus could interfere with Caenis’ visions, granted by the System itself, spoke volumes about his power.

My brother is wrong, Julia thought, her hands moving to her shoulders. This cult is not a minor band of exiles. This is an evil festering in our midst, building its strength.

And this secret force wanted them dead.

Not if I kill them first, the queen thought with determination. The Beast Cult threatened her family, and she would use all her resources to annihilate them.

Julia needed a [Legend], and a protection against [Domination]. She refused to feel so weak and helpless again, to submit to death rather than fight it.

Enemies everywhere, Julia thought as Thales examined the sketches. And so few trusted friends.

“Milady, these components do look like galley’s parts,” Thales conceded, before pointing at the size indications which Julia had added beneath the drawings. “But if we take the size ratio into account, the hypothetical ship should crumble under its own weight. It wouldn’t be able to navigate.”

“They had [Spellcasters] and specialized [Crafters] to reinforce the components,” Julia explained, banishing the dark swordsman’s memories from her mind. One problem at a time. “They drew spell formulas in the wood.”

“Still, I am skeptical.” Thales’ fingers started fidgeting at high-speeds, an idea crossing his mind. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“According to Lord Kairos’ messages, we know the merfolk needed an entire palace structure to serve as an amplifier for their trident shard. Henceforth, the Poison King could be building something similar.” The crafter nodded to himself, before using a feather and ink to build upon Julia’s own notes. “Not a ship, but a floating fortress.”

One that could channel the trident’s power, Julia thought. One that could serve as a moving stable for Mithridates’ silver dragon. “How big would it get?”

“If I trust your information, I would say at least one hundred and thirty meters in length. Four times the size of a warship.” When Thales had finished, Julia noticed that he had completed her drawing of the wooden tower she had seen at the sawmill. “Definitively a missile weapon platform.”

“A nest of fire rod users,” the queen said grimly. “Do you have any guesses about how far they are from completing this superweapon?”

As she suspected, Thales’ answer was worrying. “If they are currently building tower platforms, then they reached a late stage in the construction process. The fortress should be operational by Spring, I believe.”

Euthenia’s words came back to Julia.

No doubt he intends to use that secret weapon of his to bring rebel cities to heel.

A second sun rising in the skies and burning the world to ashes.

A colossal beast with oaken scales, sailing a sea of poison.

And a great wolf’s jaws closing on the last human’s neck.

Julia lived near the first calamity, had found the second, and barely escaped the third.

---------------------

A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons.