The days pass slowly after that, as if the world has a harder time getting up with its ever slower sun each morning. The days are short, with the eye of the sun only poking over the horizon to survey us all with deep contempt, after which it resigns itself to the deep darknesses of the night. Scarcely are there ever clear skies, and the temperatures leave them so bleak that they're almost inhospitable regardless of the beautiful brushing of stars across the darkness.

In spite of this and the way that the wind howls through the branches of the outpost, the precariousness of the wooden go-betweens that lead from room to room, we find moments of comfort. In a room far too small for all of us, the females spend all morning sharing stories and calling louder than storm winds outside, heads joined in ancient unity. Even the non-canines (save for Nina) join in a round of a song I can barely remember the lyrics to, lead by Glaze.

Oh, the time has come for passing, we're passing on to time... paw in paw and foot on road in rough and icy clime...

While the starving moons rip the tree bare of its leaves, it is Fyera and Ignis who teach me how to strip flesh with my newfound power. It is Arazel and Avery whose stories regale us on long nights with the kitchen hearth on for warmth, as they argue over details about historical events. (Avery usually wins out, declaring with a flashing smile that she used to write stories about this or that place, or that a friend did, or that she did some research, and Arazel just nods along, mechanical heart clicking.) It is Rain who drags books back from the library at the building in repairs, Thistle who runs aerial patrols every day without complaint, Gale who has suddenly become so much of a presence again, Gale at my back, Gale at my side, Gale running the fields with the force of the bitterest north winds...

And there is Indy, always, to stare after me when I look up at the innards of buildings or a strange cluster of plants for too long and offer, helpfully, "What are you staring at, Rena?" until I realize that I'm not looking at anything I recognize at all.

He guides me back with a quick jerk of his head today and my heart wells up with gratitude. "I guess it's nothing at all."

"Then stop staring," he says, butting his head against mine. "They'll need us back home. I've talked to the construction crew, gotten our progress, swung around to the butcher's..."

"You really had to." I say, with a playful roll of my eyes.

"We're only here so long. I want to try everything." Indy says, eyes flicking up to mine.

"That's... not unreasonable." I say. I fold my wings in. "I only wish I could've come in with you."
Indy looks back to the crowds, which part like flesh when we pass through them. I am greeted by wide eyes and open mouths, as well as a quiet hiss of marvel that rises like wind. Quietly, he responds, "You know why that's not possible, Rena."

I nod, even though I really don't. We pad out of Lira City together, leaving behind the warm scent of food and hundreds of Sentients behind, and turn towards the fields. The kaanin grow fat in their pens, only their long ears sticking out of their blubbery bodies.

"They look kind of like Gale, don't they?" Indy asks as we pass a pen, where the air is even more fragrant.

I hurl myself against his side, almost throwing him against the mesh of the pens. "He would kill you if he heard you say that."

Indy's face widens into his signature goofy grin. I smile, too, and my tail sweeps the grass. I herd off visions of a past that isn't mine, of a relationship that isn't mine, a siblinghood, a kinship... oh, we've been through these motions. Give me a second to enjoy them, please?

The building is empty today, with the others out on patrol. The wind blows through the room, making the corners shriek as the air passes over them. "It's so... hollow in here." I mutter to myself.

"Not much to be hollow. It's small," Indy notes. "You can't let it get you down, Rena, we'll be home soon enough."

"That's not what has me down," I say beneath my breath, because if anyone was going to understand, he would be right in front of me right now.

Indy's pale eyes catch the only light in the room, a magically enhanced candle that sits in a shell overhead. Its wavering light occasionally brings the whole room back into shadow, so that it's hard for our eyes to ever truly adjust. "That wasn't your fault."

"I could have stopped it, though. Anyone could have stopped it. All they had to do was notice that something was wrong, and we still..." My breath catches. "Aren't you upset?"

"Everyone's upset, Rena. He was a longstanding member of the group. No matter how he felt right then, there were good moments, too, and this... paints them in a different light. He took a lot of our group's history with him. Forced us to re-evaluate ourselves." He shakes his head. "It's really nothing you need to worry about."

"I wish I were there. I ruined everything when I joined."

"That's not true. You're one of my best friends."

"Everyone's your best friend."

"Then you're one of my best best friends."

I press my paw into his. "Thanks, Indy."

"No problem. Now, I hope you're about to get some of the best best sleep you've ever received, because it's late."
I tilt my head. "No one's back."

"Staying out late. We're hoping to break tomorrow." Indy yawns. "Not that that'll ever pan out. Go to bed, Rena."

Hesitantly, I turn through the door and out into the wind, where the narrow corridor hangs between me and rest. I look headlong into the sun, its red rays penetrating the horizon, and stare until it sets, letting myself drift beneath with it. The Auspicia has seen so many sunsets, including sunsets on empires, rulers, peasants, friends, allies, enemies... she is no stranger to the red glare that marks the end of things.

I miss the sun soon as she's gone. Even the frailest warmth is a blessing in times like these.

---

Thistle talks to the strategists early that morning in their square, where I so happen to be to deliver a message. We're practically standing on top of each other's tails, which does nothing to contribute to any feeling of general goodwill, but in spite of this Rain, Axel, and Surra seem to be in impeccably good moods.

"Found an errant Plague victim fairly far off. We should converge to take it." Thistle tells the group. "Other side of the town. We're going to want the fastest Defenders we have on it."

"Yes, obviously, please don't do our job for us. How about Arazel...?" asks Surra.

"Out to other cities, running diplomatic missions for Avery." Thistle responds. "I wouldn't have to if you were doing your job properly."

"Thank you, Thistle, that's very kind of you." says Axel, dully.

"I'm fast," I call from the corner.

"We're going to leave you out of this one, Rena." Rain says, kindly as she can manage. "I suppose we could move Auma, Fyera, and..."

"Auma?" asks Thistle.

Surra nods. "No one's handling a mission on their own. Ladies, should we put Gale on there too?"

"It's only a stray Plague victim. There's no need for that." Thistle insists.

"And Gale," Axel says, "You never know. Far side of town, one patrol... I don't like the sound of it. Rain, would you mind informing them?" Rain nods and squeezes past Thistle towards the door. "Now, Rena, did you need something?"

"Oh! We're going to be home soon!" I say. "Indy says... it's only a few more days."

They look at me as if I'm a particularly amusing pup. Surra purrs. "Your enthusiasm is contagious, Rena, really it is. I can't wait to go home myself. Haven't had fish since we got here."

"Gale offered to catch you one."
Surra's eyes flit over to Axel, who cringes. "My tastes might be a little more refined than that."

"Agreed," Axel says, "But I'll be glad to get out of here."

"We all know you'd prefer something more technologically advanced than a tree, yes," Surra says, "But at the very least, it is cozy here." Her eyes flit towards several papers scattered across the floor. "Perhaps too cozy for our official documents."

"'Cozy' is one word for it," Axel says. "I think of it as severely lacking in privacy. Thistle? Rena? You're excused. Rain's got the other instructions. You should go meet her."

We do, of course, but she has nothing to say to me. "Could you... clean the pantries?" she asks, after I've stared at her for a solid few minutes.

"You're kidding me."

"No, Rena, I'm not, those pantries really need cleaning. There are spiderwebs everywhere. Glaze is irate." She nudges me into the room. "Plus, Avery may... still be holding you back."

I look up at her with the deadest, most irate expression I could possibly muster. At this point, Ignis sweeps her away into conversation, and my tail lashes as I go to start poking out spiderwebs with a convenient cabinet sized stick. Everything in the treehouse is made of wood, somewhat ironically, and all of it is covered in debris more concerning than the spiderwebs. I jolt the stick up as I watch the groups leave, talking in bright, lively tones, and see Nina holding Gale's side. He has new scars down his side, the likes of which certainly weren't left by Plague victims... or at least, that's all I can hope. Nina runs her tail down them, and he seems to shudder.

My heart twists, but I don't walk after them.

Coward.

The Auspicia, grand heiress of all Dreamland, someday to be the ruler of this world, spends the day cleaning cabinets. The air is rife with dust particles and the cabinets themselves are occasionally stocked with old, old food, including jerky and the rare packaged bit of berry treat. I eat these whenever I find them, because no one else will, and each bite brings me closer to neglected memory. Someone lived here before me. Someone stashed these things with the expectation that they would be found.

Why not come back for them?
I know the answer. The dust hangs in the air after I brush it out of the cabinets, well as I can with a stick for my implement, and it brings with it unfamiliar smells under the wood. Beneath them all is a deep dread, collecting in my heart as a face seems to form in the dust, as if I am being watched by a hazy figure across time.

Turn around, Auspicia, if you value your life.

Hot breath on my shoulders.

Thistle's eyes narrow. "You're here," he says.

"I am," I say.

We watch each other, and he takes a step to the right as I take one to the left. We do not pass each other, instead, we turn in an arc, preparing to circle. Old anger teems under his first, nigh-transparent, hidden by ancient dragon powers of stoicism. When he slides a second eyelid over, drawing it back to reveal polished amber stones, I am drawn back into memory. I have seen so much of dragons.
"Your ancestors were fierce warriors, weren't they? Interdimensional conquerors." I tell him.

"My ancestors came here a long time ago. We have been anchored to this place and its inhabitants for aeons."

"And a companion is your physical link, in this life and the next. It's everything." I finish.

Thistle spreads a wing wide. "I know it's not you in there who suspects me of treason."

"Who's really on that mission?" My voice is dust.

Rain bursts down the door, panic in her voice. "There's over a dozen of them here. More on the horizons."

"I must have undercalculated." he says, with a dismissive flick of his tail. "Thought I only saw one."

"Deliberately?" I whisper.

Thistle's eyes narrow.

"Thistle. What do you want out of all this?"

He looks to the open fields through the window, which seems like a portal to another world, now. "Fyera is in that group."

"You can't possibly be.... finishing things for him?" Rain asks.

"No. Things are being brought to an end. I have no say in the matter."

Rain's eyes widen with horror and she races towards the exit, crying, "I need to go warn them," only for Thistle to stop her. I bite his leg and he turns my way, nose teeming with smoke, and Rain slams the door open. Thistle snarls angrily, shaking me off, and a holy beam of red light, like a thousand sunsets collected into pure rage, burns in my maw. I pounce atop him with the same ferocity, wrestling him to the ground with my limbs coated in light. He jabs a horn towards me and slices me down the side of my neck, a shallow wound that immediately begins oozing copious amounts of blood. I cry out in fury and bite the side of his neck, energy rolling through me and widening the blast. He lets out a faint growl.

My head perks. "Rain. Go."

Rain races past me and out of the room. Thistle and I lock eyes. I feel my whole body shake with an emotion I can not identify-- it is not betrayal, nor grief, nor even a reaction from her. The closest thing to it is visceral panic.

"Don't tell me I don't have to do this, Rena."

"You already did."

"You could at least do me the honor of killing me." Thistle hisses.

"What would that solve?"

"You'd look good in front of them when they return and save them the bother."

"Why would you throw your own life away like this?"

"Petty vengeance. The world is ending, Rena. Has been for a long time. Eventually, you have to ask yourself... is it all worth it? For these Sentients? For this world? The answer is no. No matter what the scenario is, Sentients are weak, petty, biased, cruel..."

"You don't get to exact judgement on them."
"That will be your job, soon." He coughs blood.

"I..." I close my eyes, steadying myself on the eternally turning world. "I'm leaving."

"Are you?" Thistle asks, his eyes like glass.

"Yes." I say.

"And me?" he asks.

Surra, Axel, and Rain enter the room.

I turn, but Blossom leaps in just as fast, clutching her chest fur to herself. "If you're going, take me with you." she insists. "I know, I know, I'm not exactly a fighter, but I can't let you go alone."

I spread my wings. "There's a chance we can still save most of the group if we hurry."

"That's what we're counting on." Rain says.

Axel stands over Thistle, and Surra, at her side, reluctantly shoots her a quick look. The two of them balance on the precipice of a decision, and I see the sun setting in Thistle's eyes, all that amber obscured by the red welling up around him.

"What are you going to do?" asks Thistle, his breath stilling.

Axel's jowls draw back. "My job."

Blossom hops on my back and we bound down the stairs. I hear a click and bones cracking-- don't look back. Nothing there. When I exit, my heart is pounding up into delirium, but this is just more fuel for the fire. When I take flight, it is with balance and control the likes of which I've never known, as if I'd spent all my life learning the best way to ride the currents. I dive around buildings, staying low to the ground, and Blossom clings tight to me, occasionally offering helpful comments such as "We're awful close to that building". I can smell her fear, like lilacs and cut grass. A few smudged blurs beneath us, accompanied by a mess of fire and elemental ruin, clearly mark our companions. "Rena, are you afraid to die?" she asks.

"For everyone else's sake, I guess, but I've always been more afraid of living." I tell her as we swoop down, and I hear a resolute hmm from my back.

All you could do. Couldn't have known. All that matters is the moment. Give yourself over. Give yourself up.

I dive for Gale as Blossom leaps off and am immediately thrown out of the way by a claw, tossed across the battlefield beneath the feet of another foe. Another beam of light rips through one's stomach before I can identify it as much more than a shadow, and it goes straight through, leading Fyera to swing out of the way. Through the chaos, I hear Auma cry out something that I hope is positive, and look up to see a paw coming down. I roll out of the way and try to blast another beast, only to be held down by something with three front arms and several mouths, all of which roar in unison, blasting spit into my face. I lower myself close to the ground, trying to roll out of its grip, but its claws are sinking into my back. Its teeth dive for me and I take the spare second when its hold loosens to go under it and manifest two wings, the pure energy cutting right through its physical form and unleashing a torrent of ichor.

It almost collapses on top of me, and I manage to get my front paws through before it lands on my back half. I feel my lower body go numb, and a much smaller Plague victim, a mangy beast with canine traits, draws nearer. My mouth flickers with light, but its dark eyes only shine with it as it continues to move forwards, its dusky pelt full of maggots. It looks as if it is already being decomposed, and when it opens its mouth, I smell the stench of death thick upon it. I desperately swing a paw, but my melee skills are pathetic, and it cuts a large gash down my side. I feel fury lace up my arm with the pain, bracing myself, and it lunges, mouth open, and a guttural cry leaves my mouth as the world seems to collapse in on me with its teeth. White, glowing blood gushes from the wound, filling it as quickly as it was created, and as it tilts its head in surprise, Auma sends a blade flying into its maw. The beast can hardly even cry around the axe embedded in its face, and as it bleeds out, Auma stands over me like the strategists over Thistle. "Rena." she asks, dropping to her paws. "Are you hurt?"

I feel something dark drip into my body from where one of the beasts has fallen upon me... the same dread fills me entirely now, knowing that it's not only the back half of my body going numb. Don't tell her. Don't tell her. You can't say anything or everything will be over forever. Down my neck is a healed scar. She can't see... I must have somehow... "I'm alive," I lie. "Nothing got me."

Maybe... I haven't caught... no. I can sense the poison inside of me like a storm.

I always wanted to die a hero, didn't I? I was always denied that chance but now here it is, dropped at my paws like a piece of prey. If only they didn't need me alive... I tilt my head to the side, just slightly, and Auma cringes. "Well, then, it'd just be you."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Take good care of them." she says.

"Auma?" I ask, my voice little more than a strained whisper.

The battlefield is very still. Indy calls over the host of the dead, "That's the last of them," but his bark is unsure.

Auma summons a massive portal and goes at a few twitching bodies with several scythes, which rake open bodies with deadly accuracy. When it is very, very clear that nothing on the battlefield will ever move again, she telekinetically moves the Plague victim off of me.

"You know what you have to do, Fyera." Auma says. Ichor drips out of her mouth.

Fyera chokes, and Blossom snivels. The rest of the group is silent, like dozens of ghosts, and Gale looks on with that harsh half-moon expression I will never understand. "You can't be serious," I say.

Auma smiles, flashing a bite wound across the neck in a position parallel to mine. Fyera shakes her head. Auma's face softens, and she insists, "Please... don't let me become one of them." As she does so, a dark claw erupts from the ground and she bleeds out of her stomach. Gale steps forwards, watching her bleed out across the battlefield, and she stares into his eyes as she fades out.

Fyera yells something and suddenly she's atop Gale, barking something into his ear about her being desperate and not thinking straight, and Gale starts talking about mercy, and I just let them go at it, and go at it, and keep going, and my head spins, and I think I'm going to be sick. "Is everyone else okay?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

The battlefield is silent save for Gale's continued pleas of innocence, but they're not pleas. They're assertions. "I couldn't let her go the same way Twitch did, losing her mind, feeling like an animal trapped inside her body. No one deserves that. No one will ever deserve that."

Things ended today. Thistle was right about that much.