To win wars, one must bring absolute defeat to one's enemies. Wars are not won by leaving the breath of dissension within the lungs of adversaries who will rise up once more and cause a greater burden in the future.

Carmon Dagarth, Blood Lord

Heat consumed the air, billowing skyward from flames rising from one horizon to the other as Koroth Ulin burned down to blackened cinders.

Soon, like Koroth Abal and Savo, it would be nothing more than a pile of ash.

Cassandra stood, partaking in the sight, trying to calm the anxiety and anger overwhelming her. With every breath of the soot and ember filled air, she fought to keep from succumbing to its sulfuric and choking stench.

"I do so love to see your handiwork. It is very efficient and brutal."

Cassandra shifted toward the voice. Blood red hood drawn up, Lady Noranda examined Governor Farust's body, impaled through the back and out the neck on a pike and dangling atop the small rise just beyond the town's limits. Had the woman been alive, she would have seen what had become of her once precious fiefdom and the lands she once laid claim to controlling.

The Red Witch touched the blood, still wet, on the shaft. "Some might say it's a little much. But I think it sends quite and effective message."

"The price of failure must be high." Cassandra explained her cruelty. "In order to deter such from becoming commonplace."

"Governor Farust was certainly a convenient scapegoat for your sister slipping through our fingers."

Cassandra snorted at the insinuation. "Calling her a scapegoat implies she wasn't key to the debacle. I see her as instrumental. She had one job, and she failed."

"Indeed."

Silently seething over the loss of her necklace, the general felt at the spot where it once hung about her neck. The blond-haired woman accompanying her sister had done something to her that made Cassandra feel pathetic and weak. First holding her immobile and then rendering her unconscious without so much as a physical blow being struck.

The general chewed on her lower lip, breaking skin and drawing blood. But the pain was ultimately no distraction for her racing thoughts of how her sister had turned on her. It wasn't how it was supposed to have been. Upon coming to, Sheala and the other rebels had all been long gone. Only after the fact did she realize that she'd been out for two days. Two long and lost days.

The scenario of the encounter with her sister played out like an insistently annoying bard singing the same dire and droning tune night after night seeking attention and praise. Never once had Cassandra thought Sheala would resist coming with her. The others, those rebels, along with their uncle, had poisoned her sister against her own blood. It was the only explanation. And they would pay dearly for interfering in their reunion.

"The Pelsan I recognized as the man from the ship in Catersburg. When I was pursing that rebel assassin, who I also believe I saw here," Cassandra said. However, there was a particularly sore point for the general to ponder. "But the blond-haired woman—who was she?"

Lady Noranda paced around the corpse of the city's ex-regent, examining it further, looking for something only she could fathom. "From what you describe? The Child of Prophecy. It is the only explanation. A descendant of the Seers of Denang, if I am not mistaken. Short of mages, they are they only ones with the sort of power you described. And she did not sound like a magic-user based on your report."

With a nod, Cassandra asked another question. "And then there was the elven woman. The Child of Faries? The one who knows the way that you've spoken of?"

"Yes. All who must have made their appearance."

"They took my necklace." Just saying those words drove the anger inside Cassandra to a boil. "My sister took my necklace. I have no way to track them without it."

"You do." Lady Noranda smiled. "I have brought the demon back. Your friend Civn was unwilling, but in the end a suitable host."

"That traitor was not my friend."

"Forgive me." the woman in red continued smiling. "It was intended as a joke. A poor one at that, I admit. Just know that the Ancient One will hunt them down for you."

"They'll just defeat him as they did before. Civin is not as powerful as General Kayzar was."

"I believe he has learned his lesson. He will not engage," Lady Noranda informed the young woman. "Only observe and report. The Child of Faries will guide your sister to the Shrine, and the Ancient One will be our tether to them."

"I've already put word out to our forces here in the east. They are preparing to move on the mountains as soon as we have a path to follow."

With a nod, Lady Noranda expressed her pleasure at the new. "Excellent. I have also informed Lord Hedric that we will soon know the location of the Mount of Carnak. He plans to be present when we open the shrine and reclaim The Tear."

Cassandra turned back at the fire, staring at the dancing flames and climbing columns of smoke. "I only want our bargain to be fulfilled. My mother and father—returned to me. That was the promise."

"And so it was, child. And so they will be."

The foothills beyond the edge of the forest loomed as the next step before the mountains. The peaks, faintly visible, soared skyward, biting at the horizon like teeth.

Reane stood there, leaning on the trunk of a tree and watching the sun set on another day. "What do you think?" she asked, seemingly to no one. "About four or five days?" The peaks of jagged gray in the distance may not have seemed that far away,

Anthony didn't realize she'd have noticed him approach and linger, holding back and not wanting to disturb whatever thoughts were on her mind. "Probably. Maybe six. Horses have held up pretty well. But we are one short and asking a horse to carry two? Well, that's dragging our pace down a little."

The seer didn't look at him. Only listening to the sound of his feet crunching fallen leaves and sticks. "We can't afford to waste time. I want you to be on the move before sunup."

"Don't you mean 'we'? 'We' need to be on the move before sunup?" He came up behind her and put his hand in hers while she still looked out across the terrain.

"You know I always mean exactly what I say. I can't keep going on like this." She finally turned to Anthony. "I'm becoming less and less useful by the day."

"You pretty much single-handedly got us out of Koroth Ulin." Leaning in to kiss her, Anthony was taken aback when she shifted and presented a cheek rather than her lips. "Seriously?" he questioned her coldness.

Reane faced him once more, her hand reaching up to play with the hair on the unmasked side of his face. "Anthony, I do love you. But we need help. Do you think for one second Sheala's sister isn't chomping at the bit to hunt us down? If the entire Imperial Army and every dragon they have isn't out looking for us right now, I'd be very surprised."

"Me too." The rebel whom she loved smiled at her. "And I have faith that you gave us enough of a head start to keep them off our backs for a while. And we took her necklace, so I think we can make it."

"Don't be so naïve. There's still a long way to go before this ends. And we're going to need help."

"And you're leaving to go get help? Is that your plan? If so, I'll come with you. I can't believe everyone is giving up on the Rebellion like Governor Farust did. We still have allies."

"Honestly," Reane looked away, then back to Anthony, "that might not be all that bad of an idea."

"Then it's settled." Anthony's smile broadened. "We'll head to—"

"No. You'll head out to see who we can get to help us from the Rebellion. Although, I fear there are far fewer willing to help than we might expect."

"And where will you go?"

Stripping a piece of bark from the tree, Reane picked it appart with nervous energy. "Where I'm going? You can't follow."

Anthony brought his lips in close and then on to hers. There was no resistance this time. "Try me," he said, pulling away after a moment.

Reane sighed, blinking past the distraction of the kiss. "You have to trust me on this. I have to do this alone."

"You will not be alone." Now it was Sayra's turn to let her presence be known. "Am I interrupting something important?"

This time, both Reane and Anthony sighed simultaneously. "Unfortunately," Reane said, "yes."

"I'm sorry to have done so. But time is of the essence." Sheetah calmly sat perched on the elf's shoulder, munching on a black berry dripping with red juice.

"I know."

Anthony glowered at the silver-haired elf. She knew what Reane was up to, and he knew it. They'd plotted whatever it was without him. "So, do I get to be let in at all on what's going on around here?"

Sayra chuckled. "No. You don't."

"And why not?"

"Because," Reane picked up the explanation. "If you were told? You'd try to stop me."

"You know by just saying that, I'm going to want to stop you? Right?"

Reane took Anthony's head in her hands and looked deep into his one still good eye. "Knowing that you love me, I wouldn't expect anything less. But please don't. Not if you love me."

Looking down and away, Anthony muttered a curse under his breath. His concession followed. "Fine."

"Thank you."

"But just so you know, I don't like it. What if I never see you again?"

"You'll see me again." Just hearing the concern in his tone was for her warmed Reane's heart. "I promise."

The kiss the two of them shared was mutually wanted and lingered long enough that it made Sayra uncomfortable. She wished to break them apart with a clearing of her throat, something, but chose to endure the delay until both the rebel and the sea captain decided they had had enough. Only once they broke their embrace, Reane's eyes still closed and seeming to envision it continuing, did Sayra dare to speak.

"We do have some last pieces of business to discuss before you leave." Realizing that Anthony was not letting Reane go, Sayra emphasized, "In private?"

Reane opened her eyes, seeing Anthony still staring at her. "Of course," she replied with a drop of her head. "In private."

"Fine," Anthony said. Releasing her reluctantly, he drifted back and away without turning. At ten steps from her, his eyes still lingering upon Reane, he spoke again. "Have I made it clear that I don't like this?"

"You have!" Reane called out to him. "And your dissent is duly logged, for the record."

"Good!" He continued his backward walk, bumping into a tree. Startled, he began moving again and around it. "I just want to make sure that it's understood." After that, he said not one more word, turned with a reluctant falter to his steps and vanished among the trees.

Reane pondered dropping her guards to check and see if he was out of earshot, her hand finding the single strand of fairy silk still tucked in her pocket. But, after what she had experienced, the pain and the visions, while lowering them in Koroth Ulin, she dared not. Just the thought of doing so caused her headache to return. She massaged her forehead. "I would have liked to have had a little more time." She griped at the elf, venting some of her frustrations.

"You were the one who said you wanted to do this," Sayra reminded. "It was your idea. And I'm afraid there is no more time. I've been in contact with the fairies. They tell me the Dark Elves are moving east through Undulhava. With the link between their realm and ours, we have very little time."

"That much we agree on."

"I do have a request, though."

"And that is?"

"Sheetah will go with you." Even the blue dragon seemed to take umbrage at the suggestion. "She will be valuable to you on this quest."

"I don't see how she can be—"

Sayra held up a silencing hand. "Trust me when I say she will be. Sheetah?" Her pet didn't react in a manner that displayed an over eagerness to comply, nuzzling up to its master and demanding a comforting scratch to the back of its head. "It's all right, girl. Reane is kind and intelligent enough for you to not be bored. She will make a great companion for you."

Sheetah craned her neck and head to eyeball the seer.

"Yeah," Reane groaned. "This is going to be real fun. A regular old adventure."

"Sheetah loves adventures. Don't you, girl?"

Chittering at the remark, Sheetah scampered down Sayra's arm and in a twin puff of blue fog disappeared and then reappeared on Reane's shoulder.

The critter's claws were sharp enough that the seer could feel them digging in. "Well, looks like I've got a traveling buddy." She went to give the dragon a scratch, much like Sayra did, but Sheetah winced. A second later, though, she allowed it.

"One more thing," Sayra said. She produced a swatch of blue fairy silk with torn and frayed edges from her pocket. "I salvaged some of this from my cloak. There wasn't much that didn't get stained thoroughly by demon blood. Thought you might be able to use it." The elf held it out to the seer. "To go along with that strand you've kept since we fled the elven lands."

Reane excepted the bit of fabric. "You knew about that?"

"The fairies told me, yes. They wanted me to retrieve it from you. But I told them that you would use it wisely."

Well, thank you for that." Tucking the silk away, Reane had to convince herself one more time that this is what needed done.

"Sheetah will guide you through Undulhava." With a wink, Sayra added, "Wouldn't want you getting lost."

"Certainly wouldn't be a good thing."

"There is a young Vessary Blossom just north of here. That will be the best place to begin your journey, as it will provide a direct link to your destination."

Reane nodded. "Guess this is goodbye for now."

"For now." Sayra smiled. "I will give Anthony another bit of the fabric that I retrieved. He can use it to speed up his task of finding those who will help us."

"And what about you? What will you do, First Mother?"

"I will guide the Child of the Storm to the Mount of Carnak. And we will meet you there."

A deep inhale punctuated Reane's feeling that she needed to stop dragging out this departure any longer. So she chose not to say anything else.

She sensed the connection maintained by the piece of fabric Sayra had given her to the fairy realm. And as she had been taught to do once before, she embraced it and vanished.

From out of the blue haze of the fairy realm, Reane stepped onto the hard gray stone of the mostly barren landscape. The only living thing to be seen across its devoid surface of crags and valleys was the shimmering purple flowers of a Vessary Blossom so old and ancient that it dwarfed the tree of the same type Reane had seen in the elven lands.

Which made her wonder, was this the first one and not the one in the heart of the elven homelands?

In the distance, a roar, one so primary and mind-jarring, forced Reane to look to the horizon. There was a mighty force pushing on the walls she had erected to protect her thoughts. While she had improved her safeguards since the last time she felt such a mighty and angry will.

Sheetah cowered on the back of the seer's neck, her scales rising like hairs on one's arm might at a presumptive horror sensed but yet to be experienced.

"Easy, girl." Reane tried to calm her. But she felt as though she wasn't doing a very good job. "I'll protect you."

Reane hoped she could back up those words as she witness the distant, soaring forms of serpents on the horizon. But those monsters spiraling upwards on thermals near the seaside cliffs were not the ones causing her the most pause as to whether this course of action had actually been prudent.

A gust of hard, hot wind at her back begged Reane to turn around and face the creature descending from the sky on gray silver wings, its claws clacking on stone as they gouged into the rock. But Reane held her gaze on the horizon just a little longer, checking her mental barriers and reinforcing them. What she was being bombarded with now was far more aggressive than the creature she had come face to face with on her last trip to the Telowian Islands.

Sensing Sheetah had already turned to the monster and was consumed by fear, Reane slowly twisted around to do the same.

In her face was a maw of pointed, jagged, and crooked teeth, ones big enough to swallow her whole without even so much as having to chew her once. The breath of the archeon washed over her like a tsunami, reeking of the putrid flesh, stuck between the hide and gums, rotting under the force of the giant's saliva. A guttural snarl came next, the neck of the beast quaking as air raced up its throat from its gut.

Reane couldn't help but think how magnificent these creatures actually were. At least when one wasn't running for their lives from them. There was no indication other than its curious hesitation that it wouldn't have preferred to turn her into a snack. Still, the fact that it showed reluctance in doing so spoke about how the archeon was just as inquisitive about her as she was it.

Her hand trembled as she reached out, her and the creature face to snout and not more than a foot of separation between them, if even that much. The skin was a course hide, covered in ridges and valleys under her fingertips. Upon making the connection, Reane felt so much more than the creature's anger.

She had lost a whelp the year before, it having been stillborn despite squirming and wriggling inside her belly a few hours before the birth. There was a great emotional trauma within the archeon because of that, and one that would not heal for some time.

There were thoughts of a wound the primordial dragonkin had suffered in a challenge to her authority the year before that. Reane chanced a look under her right wing, noticing immediately the wide, bulging and discolored scar of pink that was a lasting reminder of that encounter. Even though the beast had won, her injury stirred a sense of weakness in her.

Reane patted the great beast's snout. "You have nothing to fear. For you are strong." As she said those words, Reane could feel the archeon's thoughts quake with a pride that someone else would understand her feelings and be sympathetic to them.

And as the two stood there, the seer and the great beast, a connection was made. It was so deep that it was as though their minds became one, with the archeon's primal emotions helping to fend back the visions that sought to overcome and consume Reane.