On Astral Tides: From Humble Freelancer To Astral Emperor

Side One Hundred And Ninety-Five – Storms And Arrows

Haanōbō of the Winter North, Haru’s Territory, Boundary Kyoto

“In Great Tarōbō’s name!” The cry rang out, and the Tengu who were flying overhead Kyoto unleashed a volley of arrows down on the invaders below. Several of the humans fell, pierced by the ritual shafts, and Haanōbō smiled with satisfaction under her traditional crimson, long-nosed mask.

“Do not let up the assault!” she cried, flapping her white feathered wings to keep aloft, her long violet hair streaming out behind her. “We are the Tengu of Mount Atago! We command the skies!”

A cheer erupted from the throats of her forces, their own faces hidden behind their own masks, hoods and helms, though none were as detailed or as ornate as hers. In fact, Haanōbō’s mask was also chased with gold, though the metal appeared almost orange under the skies of the Boundary, matching the water element she commanded, in the name of Genbu. Her words inspired the troops, and they redoubled their assault, though at that moment attacks were returned on them, the vile mortal weapons the intruders carried barking out tongues of flame, as the metal projectiles soared into the skies like a host of droning, stinging insects.

“Futile!” she scoffed, as she dipped to avoid the bullets. With a wave of her hand, a dozen large javelins of water formed, before freezing into icy lances. She tossed her head, and they plummeted, piercing the attackers that had dared to fire back. In addition to that, her three strongest Tengu warriors weren’t using the traditional long bows, which were similar in status to Kyūdō Yumi, though smaller and less ornate, but they too were armed with mortal weapons, of a fashion, she supposed.

“To trespass on our lands is an affront!” one of the Tengu cursed, before squeezing the trigger of the… assault rifle… he held. Projectiles rained down rapidly, far in excess of the speed an archer could loose arrows, and three of the mad-eyed interlopers were cut down, the bullets bursting in bright sparks of elemental light.

“To challenge we Tengu, who rule the skies from our perch on Mount Atago, is simply folly.” another crowed, also firing with satisfaction. As her forces cheered, Haanōbō shook her head, no longer the arrogant woman she once was. Defeat and humiliation will beat the arrogance out of anyone. Although… brother Arangbō has not changed. If anything, he is more boisterous than ever.

With the death of her two brothers… My other brother is dead, even if he perhaps lives under Great Tarōbō’s punishment… Mount Atago’s defence was being left to the Spring East, and he was gleefully battling the invaders. But merely remaining passive was no option, for they had commitments, and alliances. That did not change the fact that Haanōbō would treat these invaders with respect and use all her strength to vanquish them. I shall not be trampled underfoot, taste dirt again.

“Remain cautious. There is much strange here.” she warned. “This invasion seems foolhardy, yet… perhaps it is just we do not see the true intent. Their ingress was also far swifter than anticipated. The great barrier that surrounds our lands was vanquished in but a moment. And their weapons… they are not trivial.”

“True.” Another Tengu agreed, even as his arrow left the bow, and whistled downwards, the fletching crafted to make a pleasing and yet menacing sound in flight. It buried itself in the throat of an assailant below, and wings dipped in satisfaction as the intruder collapsed, silver and red scattering. “Some have been injured by their strange tools, though luckily none have perished.”

“Careless.” another sneered, one of the few that held the new weapons provided by Akio, he who Great Tarōbō had ceded control of Mount Atago to. “We are the Tengu! We have the absolute advantage of the skies. To be caught by projectiles is shameful!”

“But you hold one of the new tools, brother!” a smaller, female Tengu argued back. “You understand them better…”

Haanōbō shut out the argument, unleashing more blasts of icy projectiles down on the enemies below, though she was retaining most of her strength, in case of… accidents. In the distance, in a Territory controlled by another, though it was an ally, a great cry rang out, and a fiery bird soared up, brilliant flames surging, bathing more attackers in gleaming rays which burned them to carbonised statues.

We rule the skies, do we? Haanōbō frowned behind her mask once more. The Phoenix was but a chick, certainly, but even a young bird was kin to mighty Suzaku, the great Vermillion Bird of the South. Thinking of such brought sad thoughts to the forefront of her mind, remembering Shungbō, of the Summer South, her brother who was slain by the treachery of her other brother, Fungbō. And also…

“Thinking of your new brother, are you?” one Tengu cawed laughingly. Haanōbō dipped her head and her wings, frustrated, long violet hair also hiding her crimson mask, as if she wished to further veil her face.

“Nonsense. And I am not his sister! Those are merely words…” Even to herself, her denials sounded weak, but she was frustrated. Fortunately, there were many interlopers below to take her ire out on, and ice rained down, slaying many, satisfying her. Though… those walking bones. Ordinary attacks, arrows and even bullets have little effect on them…

“Words Great Tarōbō has accepted. What is said cannot be taken back.” the Tengu countered. “Besides, he has seen your face, Winter North! Only the closest to us can see our shame. And… the Directions are unbalanced. Great Tarōbō is the Centre, but North and East cannot hold without South and West!”

“I know that!” Haanōbō was frustrated, and indeed, she did know. And I am grateful. Even though Akio was the one who humiliated me first, trampling me to the ground, robbing me from the skies, he then did not disdain me, and fought my brothers for my pride. But… to take a new brother, not even a Tengu… besides, I have heard much talk about his blood sister…

Haanōbō had walked the Material world on a few occasions now, called forth by the mortal woman who possessed the power of Dreams. And it was the work of a moment to venture through the Ring Gates to Tokyo, so she did have some closeness with a number of Akio’s retinue and allies. The Treetop café, as they call it… the view is rather pretty. It is as if one is flying, without needing to beat our wings… She flushed, thinking of the delightful alcohol and wonderous foods she could sample there, and the barrels of it the Fae princess Shaeula had given her to bring home.

“Only Great Tarōbō’s kin can be chosen for the honour.” the Tengu continued, and by the set of his head, he was amused. “Perhaps some distant cousins could be found with the skill to accept South and West, but… your new brother has flames worthy of Suzaku indeed, and Great Tarōbō himself has declared him worthy. And conveniently… it seems that his other sister possesses a golden metal. Gold is the most perfect of all metals, and thus she perhaps is worthy so carry the will of Byakko and the West.”

“I know all that!” Haanōbō shouted, frustrated, only to wish she hadn’t as the other Tengu chortled at her discomfort. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. “Words said by Great Tarōbō cannot be disregarded. I know that! And he accepted. But I have not! Until I do…”

“Hoping for more?” one of the female Tengu under her command snickered. “I have heard the rumours, as have we all. Being a sister is no bar to his tastes, it seems…”

“Enough!” Haanōbō wished her voice sounded more authoritative, but it was time to focus. “We are the retinue of the Winter North! And we will not allow our focus to falter! Whatever my thoughts on Akio, or his ascension, if… if he succeeds in attracting Suzaku’s attention, if his sister is indeed one Byakko favours… we will know soon. During their pilgrimage to the Kami…” The Tengu were unhappy, long having quarrelled with the Kami of Japan, but they understood that now was no longer the time for petty discord. “…when they scale Mount Atago and pay homage to the Sacred Flame that burns there… the ceremonial trial shall take place. Then… we will know the answer. If… if Akio succeeds in becoming Summer South, then… it seems I shall have no choice but to submit. But for now…” Her eyes narrowed. “…we are here to defend what is ours!”

Swooping high into the sky, the Tengu continued to attack. On the ground bolts of energy from the Territory Defences were constantly sparking, but again, the dead creatures of bone, animated by restless spirits, were hard to bring down, many attacks passing through their hollow ribcages, or only glancing off. Haanōbō noticed a force of defenders holding off the attackers, and she could see the Kami Prince Shōtoku there as well, though he was staying at the rear, directing the battle, and she tossed her head in disdain. He is no fighter. I should deserve more respect from Akio, for I battle fiercely! I am Winter itself!

“There is one thing I am confused by…” the Tengu who had teased her earlier, one of her most veteran warriors, was puzzled. “…these mortals, how are they all here?”

“Is it unusual?” another asked, before clenching a fist in satisfaction as his arrow found its mark. “There are many mortals that walk Kyoto, and some have even visited Mount Atago.”

“Yes, but… they were welcomed, and guests. These… these are invaders! The oppression of this Territory should affect them far more severely!”

“Yes.” Haanōbō agreed. It had been bothering her as well, but considering their aim was to repel the invaders, slaying them, she had chosen to focus on that. “Only those with great spiritual power should be able to endure, and these…” She watched as more arrows and bullets were exchanged, the Tengu coming off the victors. “…seem far from Onmyōji or other practitioners of the Arts, or even the favoured of the Kami. No, they seem a mere fanatical rabble.”

“Rabble or not, they are a nuisance.” another Tengu complained. “But we shall surely triumph here. The stronger forces seem to be in the north.” He nodded over to where the Phoenix was battling. In addition, there were holes forming in the sky, and great power was leaking out, bathing the attackers with destructive forces. Haanōbō shivered as she contemplated that.

“Yes, but again they may be hiding some nefarious intentions. Best we wipe them out.” Haanōbō flew up higher, casting her gaze around, until she spotted a small group of humans in white and gold robes, carrying a number of horns and other musical instruments such as harps. Listening, she could hear faint music, and it wore at her nerves, niggling at her. “Over there!”

As Haanōbō flew over, followed by some of her Tengu, while the rest continued their aerial bombardment, she suddenly wheeled in the sky. A large number of walking skeletons had emerged from cover, and they were armed with bows. Arrows flashed towards her, but initially she felt they would be no danger, as she had the heights. She was soon panicking and flapping backwards though, as the arrows shimmered with strange energies, and flew as if they were the bullets these mortal guns used. Several Tengu failed to avoid them and were injured, but fortunately the arrows, despite their ferocious, unexpected power, had still slowed over the distance.

“Vile dead!” Haanōbō cursed, icy javelins falling, shattering upon them, but while the skeletons slowed, they suffered little damage. It was then that the white-clad mortals below raised their horns and harps, and they began to play. What is going on?

“There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun…

…who rideth upon the heavens in thy help…

…and in his excellency on the sky….

…The Eternal Throne is thy refuge…”

Their voices were raised in song, accompanied by haunting sounds of the harp and powerful, booming blasts on their great curled horns. It was actually beautiful, the sounds enchanting, but Haanōbō felt danger, and so decided it was no longer time to hold back. As arrows of bone came whizzing at her, she started her own chant.

“Genbu, Lord of Winter, Master of Water, He Who Heralds Winter… I call upon the deep black ocean. Purge the unholy spirts and bring peace once more to the sacred mountain, let the cold stillness of winter and black waters reign once again…”

“And underneath are the everlasting arms…

…and he shall thrust out the enemy from before thee…

…and shall say, Destroy them!”

Their chants overlapped, and Haanōbō was a step late, the powerful ritual of water and ice not an easy one to conjure. Sonorous sounds rang out, and a massive surge of adherence rained down on her like a cudgel. She was stunned momentarily, beginning to fall, and flapped her wings, only to note in horror that she could no longer stay aloft, the sky denied to her. Panic shone in her yellow eyes, violet hair streaming out behind her.

The other Tengu were dropping too, and as arrows rose towards them, they fought to move out of the way. No, it cannot end like this. I shall not taste the ground again, nor defeat. Or even if I shall… I shall fall with my dignity untarnished.

“Black Water Purification: Sanzu-no-Kawa!” Haanōbō howled out the finishing words of the ritual, and the great water and ice elements she had gathered surged, forming first a blanketing wall, blocking most of the incoming arrows. It then pressed down, freezing the nearby bone soldiers solid, those most affected breaking apart. Smiling with satisfaction, she continued to command the Winter of Genbu, and more and more of her enemies were wreathed in white, blue and pink ice, immobile. Even so, Haanōbō couldn’t arrest her fall, and she closed her wings and tucked in her limbs, ready to minimise the impact, when a great black slash in space opened, and she fell inside. Even as she did so, she could see her fellow Tengu suddenly wrapped in shining orbs of energy.

“This is quite the annoyance.” A cold voice sounded, as Haanōbō hit the ground, only to feel no pain, as it was a springy, soft surface. She was within a sealed space, lit only by violet flames burning in ornate braziers dotted around the corners of the silent room. Blinking, she stood, realising she was free of whatever effect the musical performance of the intruders had upon her.

“I thank you.” Haanōbō inclined her head politely, and the cold yet beautiful woman returned her nod, her head of raven-black hair contrasting with the blood red gown she wore, accentuating her stunning, curvaceous figure. “But… the battle, my Tengu…”

“I should hope you are not accusing me of inadequacy.” the woman, Arisu, declared coldly, though there was a slight smile on her face, even if it was tinged with annoyance. “I have been busy. Not only did I relinquish my Territory, but it was also impossible to get hold of White and Red. Therefore, I had to use my secondary authority to disassemble it. And it is as well that I did. I have been busy.” she repeated. “As for your Tengu, I brought Chen Na. Her defensive shields should suffice for now. She is not the only new arrival to this mess. For now…”

The space Haanōbō was in opened, revealing the outside again. “…we should take… action!” Arisu slashed her hand downwards, making a chopping gesture, and a violet beam shot out, space parting, and two of the musicians simply split apart, in a welter of silver and red gore, steam rising. Arisu remained cold and detached, and Haanōbō admired her, especially as indeed, her Tengu were safe. Battered and unable to fly, yes, but the shield bubbles had prevented serious harm. They were engaging the frozen skeletons, breaking them apart, so Haanōbō knew she had little time to waste, drawing on the Sanzu-no-Kawa.

“Shatter!” Haanōbō turned the ice into a sea, or rather a river, of projectiles. Several of the musicians tumbled, pierced, and the remainder were either feathered with Tengu arrows, or Arisu dispatched them gruesomely, by manipulating the space around them. Moments later, the fight was over, and Haanōbō felt the oppressive adherence dissipate. I can fly again!

“It seems…” Arisu nudged a broken horn with her foot, which was clad in a rather inappropriate high-heeled shoe in black. “…that whatever these musicians were doing is similar to the Fae ones. There is certainly a spatial component, though it seems to mostly be adherence related. Troubling. I do not care for things I do not understand, but then, learning is its own reward.”

“Should we be so carefree?” the nervous Chen Na asked, having joined them. “The enemy is everywhere.”

“Yes, though they die everywhere too.” Arisu observed coolly. “Damage to Kyoto has been minor, but this is clearly widely orchestrated. If anything, I expect this is to prevent Kyoto sending reinforcements to Tokyo. A futile effort, but…” She shrugged, gorgeous even doing that. “…if one is prepared to spend lives, or… deaths, I suppose…” she sneered at the broken skeletons. “…recklessly, then it might achieve some aims. White cannot be reached, so I suspect they are striking there as well. It is well-coordinated, if naught else. Of course, provoking Red is only feeding a hungry bear, though she would not appreciate the simile.”

“Such waste.” Haanōbō frowned, hardly able to imagine it.

“Well, one thing humanity has in plentiful supply is people. Worse, idiotic fools who will throw their lives away for ideology. Although, if I am being… charitable…” Arisu sniffed, tilting her head regally. “…it is not hard to understand now that Heaven is not merely a wish, but a certainty. Even if I doubt very much it is a paradise as many religions claim. Else why this?” She trod on a frozen bone, shattering it. “Worse… these undead… there could be thousands, tens of thousands, more. Whether they are stolen from graveyards or some other means… numbers are their own power. Except… not today.”

“Not today?” Haanōbō repeated, eager to rejoin the fight.

“No.” Arisu nodded. “Numbers are useless against her. Why… in Europe in the fourteenth century, they say that half of the population died to the Black Death. Fifty million people. Now…”

In the distance, a dark, ominous energy was building. It was the rich brown of nature element, similar to the wood element her brother Arangbō wielded, but it gave off an entirely different feeling. Wrapping her white wings around herself, Haanōbō felt a chill.

“…not even the dead can survive her vengeance. Honestly… the world is doomed.” Arisu let out a cold laugh, amused. “How can it ever survive when such powers exist?”

In the distance, they could hear Hyacinth’s laughter, even if they couldn’t see anything but a cloud of orange and purple spores spreading. The human foes panicked, only to be surprised as they were merely coated in the powder. Haanōbō was equally surprised, but Arisu explained.

“If she runs rampant, then the allied casualties will be ruinous, and Kyoto will be uninhabitable until cleansed. No… she may well be insane, but she still has reason, contradictory as that is.” The skeleton host suddenly stopped, vivid mushrooms and toadstools sprouting, devouring bone, turning it into flaking black and brown detritus as the raised warriors collapsed. “We shall finish the living intruders. I suppose we should be thankful for small mercies.”

“What do you mean?” Haanōbō asked, as she took to the skies, though she was only a few metres above Arisu, politely listening.

“If the world does end, in plague, nuclear war, global winter or worse… at least we will have front-row seats to the show.” Her laughter was again cold, yet somehow charming. “I suppose the only way we can survive is if we are the only ones that control everything. So, we should have no mercy. For only through our victory can the safety of the innocent be assured.” Saying that, space cracked, and several fanatics were ripped apart in a mist of red and silver blood. In the distance great vines were rising up out of the fog of spores now, crushing and twisting the fools who tried to use mere guns against the thick, trunk-like tentacles.

Haanōbō nodded. She gestured, and her Tengu continued to fire, arrows seeking the hearts and throats of their foes. Unwilling to hold back, her own water bullets and ice javelins joined the onslaught, and in the distance, the Phoenix roared, flames boiling and falling like rain. The world shall end, shall it? Is that why Great Tarōbō, my father, he conceded so easily? Our lore teaches us that the world is cyclic, it has neither a beginning nor an end. Just like Yin and Yang, from the beginning comes the end, and from the end… a new beginning.

Watching the collapse of the host of moving bones, seeing forests of fungi and other plants sprout from their remains, she swallowed behind her mask, equal parts frightened and intrigued. If the Tengu’s stewardship of Mount Atago is coming to an end… what new beginning will we Tengu embrace? An image, a face, popped into her mind, and she nodded to herself, flapping her white wings. Whatever that future is… we are on the right side of it…

***

A nameless Goblin, Akio’s Territory, Boundary Tokyo

“Remain calm! All non-combatants are to evacuate to the emergency shelters!” As the mortal man shouted into some sort of cone that amplified his voice, the Goblin looked around, troubled. The packed mass of Fae were watching the distant horizon with a mixture of anticipation, worry and horror. Lightning flashed in the distance and explosions boomed, clouds of smoke and flame rising.

Explosives, yes? I have an understanding of these now. Indeed, the Goblin had volunteered to assist in the forges and smithies of the Mortal Engineers, and had proved adept with his hands, and a quick study, and to his surprise, he had been given more responsibility, and was even allowed to make suggestions on possible future projects.

To think they would allow a Goblin such leeway. The rumours were indeed true. All here are judged on their merits and behaviours. And we Goblins… The prejudice ran deep. Most of the Goblins seceded with the Unseelie Court or joined the Wild Hunt, and the olden ways, that of clever craftsmen, wise tricksters and benevolent spirits, was now replaced with tales of cruelty and malice, caps dyed with blood giving many their name and affiliation, the Red Caps.

“By the First Goblin, it is known to be a mess.” The Goblin complained to himself, even as the evacuation continued. The shelters were sturdy, apparently a mirror to those in the mortal world, and many Goblins had been employed in the delving of them, as well as a great many Kobolds. Employed. A fascinating yet troubling concept.

His earlier doubts, that employment and currency was just a way to enslave through fair words, had dissipated, as even the freeloading layabouts who plagued him, such as his Chieftain, were accorded their needs, no, more than that. But through work, greater luxuries could be gained, which made life far more pleasant. Though again, that troublesome Chieftain helps himself, some of his family as well. If it was not for the Blood of the First….

Setting that aside, he was troubled. While the defences of this place were solid, they of course paled in comparison to the Seelie Court, and while reinforcements had arrived, the brash prince Shaeraggo here with a strong cohort of Way-Wardens and weaselkin, there were still no guarantees of victory.

Slipping through the crowd, he hurried back to his own home. It was cosy, and rather over-stuffed, as despite many of the Goblins finally acceding to his wishes and finding gainful employment and their own abodes, the Chieftain and his immediate family remained stubbornly in his care. Once inside, he reached down, opening the hidden cavity than now led to a large underground basement. Inside, the eyes of a dozen Goblins met his, clearly troubled.

“The situation… what do we do? Should we remain here?” the Chieftain asked. Around him, the other Goblins murmured their own thoughts, while glancing at the square block of cloudy crystal that sat on a velvet cloth in the centre of the room, just over a metre long. “If the cycle continues, all will be well, but… this is the Last. Without the Last, there can be no First again!”

“It is known!” the Goblins chorused, as if in prayer, and the Goblin echoed his fellows.

“It is known, yes. But… are we simply content to hide, waiting for a miracle? I have learned much here. And you have all seen it. We are tolerated. No, accepted!”

“There are still some who disdain us…” one other Goblin spoke up. “…but I do admit, it never goes further, and most seem to care little so long as we do not cause trouble.”

As others agreed, the Chieftain frowned. “What do you suggest?”

“It is hardly my place to advise you. But… the old ways of Clan and lineage have failed us. So few of us are left. Instead of hiding… we could take a chance…”

“But, if the Blood of the First is taken from us or lost… we are finished, our link to the First Goblin sundered forever…” The Chieftain’s words were right, and the Goblin knew it. Despite that, he was resolute.

“There is a way. Several ways, in fact.” He walked over and caressed the crystal, peering at the shadow within, faint tears in his large golden eyes. “Some more palatable than others. But… if we succeed… no more hiding, no more suffering! We shall reclaim the truth of our existence!”

“What… what do you suggest?” The Chieftain was uncertain but was listening. Outside, there were audible sounds of distant explosions, which gave these proceedings an air of urgency. I should hope he gives my words credence. After all, I have arranged much for him and the others. There are more Goblins here now than remain in the Seelie Court, I imagine. Though that still leaves us pitifully few.

“The Blood of the First must be protected. I believe that danger will not reach here, but I could be mistaken.” His words were firm, unyielding. “Take this to the shelter.” He tapped the crystal gently. “If… if we are asked what it is… simply say it is the Goblin’s treasure. They are hardly so crass as to steal from others. But if that does spark trouble…” The remaining words were hard to say, but he said them, and the Chieftain’s eyes went wide in shock, the other Goblins equally stunned.

“Throw ourselves on the mercy of Shaeula Tu Shae Dannan? And offer… that is insane! The Blood of the First…”

“Must continue. It is known!” the Goblin insisted. “I do not suggest it lightly, but… I also know she will never decline such a treasure. And our place would be secure. Moreso, she loathes the Unseelie and the Wild Hunt. Those who betrayed their link to the First Goblin and chose chaos shall all be held to account. Then… then we can rebuild, finally free to be ourselves.”

The debate continued, and time was wasting, but to his shock, the Chieftain quickly made up his mind. Grasping the crystal, he lifted it effortlessly, despite the weight. The others reverently wrapped it in velvet, a replacement for the old, tired cloaks they used before, and far more befitting such a treasure. “Come. Lead us then…”

The Goblin nodded. “I shall. But then… I wish to join the defences. After all, this is our home now. And showing good faith shall surely be recognised and rewarded. We have a duty to be a part of the world we wish to see.”

“Fight? We are weak…” one complained, and the Goblin shook his head.

“No, we are clever. And good with our hands. We do not need to beat metal with strength, like Dwarves. We can twist, shape and carve. And mortal weapons suit us well. Besides… if I die, my blood shall be reborn when the Last becomes First once more. It is known!”

“It is known!” The chorus came back once more.

With the decision made, they quickly left the small house, and joined the throng heading for the shelters. Several Fae did eye the wrapped burden curiously, but as the Goblin suggested, none interfered with them. Soon, they descended a set of metal steps into an underground area, which was lit with ’electric lights’ as they were called, the white glow steady, and rather soothing, a little reminiscent of the Moon in the Fae lands.

The shelter was mostly filled with the weak and downtrodden, ratkin, Kobolds, other Goblins and similar Fae. The Goblin led his group carrying the wrapped crystal to one corner, where they set down their precious burden and formed up around it, blocking it from view.

“Remain here. I shall go and gather weapons and assist in the defence of our home.” he declared, and the Chieftain, though troubled, didn’t stop him.

“May the First Goblin watch over you. If you fall, may you rise again.”

“I have no wish to fall, but… we do as we must.” The Goblin nodded his thanks for the kind wishes and scurried off. As he did so, heading towards the entrance, passing a large group of Kobolds, a sudden hand gripped his arm. The Goblin tensed, panicking, turning to see a hooded figure, of similar stature to himself.

“Who… who are you?” the Goblin asked, uncertain.

“Me? Don’t worry, I am simply a… visitor.” The Fae reached up with his free hand, pushing down his hood, and the Goblin was surprised. Is that a… Kobold? A High Kobold lost to time?

“What do you want with me?” The Goblin shook his arm, and with an apology the Kobold released him.

“I simply wished to talk. You seem an… interesting… fellow. I have listened to your sermons, I found them rather fascinating.”

Sermons? Does he mean my speeches on integration? I gave them to my fellow Goblins, but… often I was in public, at the café on the Rhyming Tree or elsewhere… Unsure of what interest that would be to such a rare visitor, the Goblin opened his mouth to ask, but with a sly grin, the High Kobold, who looked like a frail, childlike Dwarf in dusty overalls, pulled out a lantern from his belt and with a gesture lit it, a faint violet flame blazing to life.

“Some privacy, I think it best.” Around them, only a few Kobolds were now paying attention. “I think your words were wise. We Kobolds, we share a great deal with you Goblins. We are the lost, the forgotten, the changed.

The Goblin nodded. “Yes, less than one in a hundred remained as we were, and our numbers dwindle. But... what was Last shall be First again, in time.”

“So you believe. I envy you. To still believe in the bloodline of the First Goblin, after all these years. Unless…” His gaze flickered to the far corner, and the Goblin tensed. “…does it sleep within? If so, I envy you. A way to anchor yourselves against the change… we lack it. Perhaps it was simply mischance, or purposeful twisting of what we were…”

I sympathise. I do. But… “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, don’t be so wary. I did say I approved of your message, yes? I came far to get here, and entrance was challenging, even with this.” He patted the lantern. “There are few left, our crafts have dwindled, and many were stolen, and copied with foul cruelties, perverted and twisted for evil ends.” He seemed sad. “But I hold you not at fault for what your estranged Clans have done. No, even with this… now entry to this land is difficult. The invaders must be cunning indeed. So… I waited, I watched, I learned. Just as you and yours did. And I decided… what can be twisted and broken can be remade.”

The Goblin nodded, having had similar sentiments. “But not alone. Which is why…” To give up what we hold… but alone, all we do is protect it. To awaken what rests within… we have neither the strength nor the knowledge. Yet…

“It makes me wonder. A sacrifice can bring a reward, here. But…”

“It is not a path I would have chosen.” The Goblin agreed with a frown, yellow eyes wistful. “…the Blood of the Last cannot be allowed to end. And… purity…”

“It is meaningless to be pure if all is lost.” The High Kobold agreed sadly. “And as we Kobolds know, even pebbles can contain precious treasures, and when polished, can outshine the sun.”

The Goblin nodded again. “Just as princess Shaeula Tu Shae Dannan has become a princess in truth, one who has shed her arrogance for quiet confidence… I never believed she, who looked down on all she considered beneath her, would build us a place we can rest.”

“I find it equally amusing. My poor kin here tell me at first she was rude, disdainful and condescending. But now she treats everyone with proper respect and care, and even praises their work. We are Fae, we change, like the mortal moon, not the immutable Fae Moon. A strange thing, yes?”

“So, what can I do for you?” the Goblin asked. “I must join the defensive battle. All who are willing are needed.”

“Interesting. I shall accompany you.” the High Kobold suggested. “As for what you can do for me… it is what we can do for each other that I’m interested in.” He waved his lantern for emphasis, and with his free hand dusted the soil and earth from his overalls. “But to that end… I shall see you safely through this battle. Then… I would see with my own eyes, just what path you take, and whether it is one my kin can dig themselves…”

The path we take? To take any path, we must win here. But… Listening to the faint explosions, mostly muffled by the thick earthen walls of the underground shelter, the Goblin clenched his fist. …this place is an abode of many surprising figures. They will not lose easily, not while we all have the will to protect what is ours…

***

Bellaera, Akio’s Territory, Boundary Tokyo

“Nice shot, Teare!” Bellaera praised. “You really are getting used to that sniper rifle.”

Teare tossed her head, lowering the weapon, ready to slip another round in. “I know, I’m just so great. Why don’t you hurry up and take the shot?” she grinned teasingly.

“Fine, fine. I’m sizing up the target.” Bellaera shot back, the magnifying scope of the custom rifle the Mortal Engineers had crafted for her held to her eye. She idly brushed a few strands of long blue hair from her face, then steadied the rifle once more. “There. I see one. Carrying some sort of bomb, I think… well, good riddance.”

She squeezed the trigger, applying a trace of aether, and the bluesteel round within sparked to life, flying from the barrel at incredible speed, far outstripping even arrows from their bows. A few moments later, Bellaera observed with some satisfaction as the enemy toppled, head blown apart by the explosive round. Another shot echoed, and she knew her fellow Elf had sniped another foe.

“I must say…” Teare smiled brightly, her long green hair unable to hide her ample chest, which gave Bellaera just a slight pang of jealousy. “…at first I wasn’t convinced about the elegance of these guns, but now I’m in agreement. I can hardly wait until all the Way-Wardens are armed with these, then the Unseelie and the Wild Hunt will be nothing but simple targets, cut down from distances they think absolutely safe from all but the most legendary archers like prince Shaeraggo.”

“I don’t think…” They continued to snipe targets at a distance, even as around them a defensive line was being put together, to halt any advance far enough from Shirohebizumi shrine, the Ring Gate Hub and most importantly, Asha’s Rhyming Tree, to ensure the safety of such critical infrastructure. “…that’ll be any time soon, Teare.” Bellaera shook her head, even as she exulted at another successful kill at great range. “…not only is supply limited, they won’t want such weapons falling into the hands of the Unseelie. Much as we hate them… they have their own skilled craftsmen, the Lanterns are proof of that. If the Unseelie can create similar weapons…”

“Yeah, makes sense.” Teare agreed, disappointed. “It would be good if we could deal with them once and for all.”

“I think even Akio and the princess would have trouble with that.” Bellaera chortled, loading another bluesteel shell. “Though I know plans are well advanced to recapture Salamandrastrae. Not that we can do anything until after the Seelie Court moves with the Moon and we know where it is relative to the Spring.”

“Oh, it’s nearly Winter Solstice.” Teare agreed. “We’ve been so busy that I barely remember it’s almost time for the Court to move. Although…” She frowned, her blue eyes twinkling cheekily. “…I haven’t had any fun excursions with Akio. I’m feeling unloved!”

“My heart bleeds for you!” Bellaera scoffed. “I simply seized my chance. He’s still playing hard to get, but we are much closer now. Not like our poor cousin Moira. As unlucky in love as she is in anything else.”

“Don’t be so cold.” Teare snorted, but her lips quirked into a slight smile. “Moira’s happy with her plans and schemes. Besides, it’s one less rival for us, right?”

“Right!” Bellaera agreed, laughing. “Oh, that one got up after I shot it… those walking skeletons are a nuisance. At least they don’t seem to be carrying any modern mortal weapons.” It’s true. Moira was chosen to appeal to Akio, but she’s so… puritan… that even he has no interest. Now all I need to do is spend more time with him, fill the moat from the inside. The princess is more than happy to help me!

“I don’t like them. It reminds me of Unseelie Arts. Powerful Woe can animate the dead, yes?”

“Disgusting.” Bellaera aimed again, and after depressing the trigger, the bullet shot across the Territory, shattering the skull of one skeletal warrior, which collapsed, the force animating it dispelled. “Let the spirits of the dead, be they mortal or Fae, rest.”

“Oh? Would you say that to Tsukiko?” Even as she teased Bellaera, Teare was firing her sniper rifle with graceful accuracy. Yes, I could get used to these weapons. At first they seem without pride, in defiance of the martial way, but… no, there is certainly skill involved. As for Tsukiko…

“That’s different. The same for the weaselkin and others who princess Shaeula is bound to. Those are willing spirits, who can return to a life worth living. These bones…” Bellaera sniffed contemptuously. “…even if they are willing to endure beyond death, what future is it?”

The battle was raging fiercely, but through their scopes they could see the distant conflict, and it seemed that the Fae forces, led by master Ulfuric and prince Shaeraggo, had the clear upper hand. There were casualties yes, weaselkin and others slain by the weapons of the enemy, or overwhelmed by the walking dead, but attacking a Territory was always harder than defending, especially with the advantages they enjoyed.

Of course, that is troubling in itself. While it might be that we are just superior, our planning for such a situation having borne fruit, it is dangerous assuming the enemies are fools. What do they aim to achieve here? Another shot, another collapsing skeleton, though this one rose again, yet half of the bones of its torso were shattered, sword dropping from its bony hand.

“Not one I’d relish.” Teare agreed. “No, our future is ours to decide. Though for us to have a future, we must win here.” As she continued to reload, aim and fire, she suddenly shrugged. “I must say, it’s nice to have weapons not made from iron or steel. I always feel so discomforted with iron.”

“Even the mortal guns are hardly made from iron. They use these plastics, and aluminium. But I agree. It is nice.” We Elves can tolerate iron, though it feels rather awful. We are certainly not as affected by it as the more… pure-blooded Fae. No, we are more akin to the Dwarves, though they are not bothered by it at all, instead, relishing it. Bellaera would never say it, though her poor attitude towards Trolls had certainly improved recently, after working more closely with Grulgor’s troops, but they were similar in that they were immigrants to the Seelie Court, and while they had become Fae, they had not taken on all the traditional aspects.

Glancing around at their fellow defenders, which also included the likes of Goblins, a few of them using their own guns, Teare then looked at the Ring Gate behind them up on the hill. “It’s a shame our allies are facing their own troubles. These foolish Church mortals are throwing away their lives.”

“Look to the positives, if we are the first to triumph here, then we can send aid through the Ring Gate. Princess Eleanor would then be further in our debt.”  Bellaera chuckled at the thought of the rather grumpy Princess after such an event.

“Do we want more rivals?” Teare snorted, simultaneously amused and frustrated. “I’d hate to have another jump ahead of us. Now I’m feeling rather irritated. When Akio returns from his trip, I’m going to find an excuse to spend some time with him!”

“Good luck with that… huh… you see that?” Through her scope, a great plume of shimmering jade wind was rising, bolts of lightning flickering within. The terrain blocked her view, but only one person would be calling upon such. “Seems our own little princess is furious. I pity the fool who has irked her.”

“Yes, she’s definitely matured, but from the old rumours, Shaeula certainly has a bad temper and a short fuse. People don’t change easily, Bell.” Teare agreed. “Now, we’d better keep fighting. If Master Ulfuric finds us slacking off, or heaven forbid Moira…”

“Yeah.” Bellaera chuckled. “That wouldn’t do at all. Cousin Moira is always so straightlaced and humourless. I don’t want to be lectured endlessly. Besides… the quicker we handle matters here, the sooner we can celebrate. After every victory, we have to send off the fallen, and rejoice in our own survival.”

“Hopefully the fallen will rejoin us soon enough.” Teare echoed their earlier conversation as her hands worked, feeding in rounds, pulling the trigger, ejecting spent casings and repeating the process, mowing down some of the remaining assailants. Bellaera joined her, and they weren’t alone, other members of the long-ranged sniper squad continuing to rain down death at an impossible distance. Though their weapons are not as artfully crafted as ours are. The perks of our position, I suppose…

In the distance thunder rumbled, and forked bolts of lightning crashed down. “Yes, seems like our princess is enjoying herself. It looks like the battle will be over soon.”

“Of course. Unless they bring overwhelming force to bear… wait…” Bellaera froze, a rapid blur crashing through the defences, a great surging wheel of dark, nearly black wood spinning, shearing through barricades and defenders alike.

“Enemy breach!” came the cry, and Teare opened fire at the new intruder, her bullet soaring out, only for it to be blocked by the great whirling mass of stakes and spikes that formed the wheel. Immediately, a dark thorn of bloody wood was shot outwards, aiming for Teare, as fast as the bullets their rifles discharged, and Bellaera leapt, crashing into her cousin, driving them both to the ground, just as a heavy impact sounded. Cries abounded, as several others who had attempted to shoot the intruder hadn’t been so fortunate, and they were now pierced by wooden spikes.

“Thanks, Bell. No, there’s no time…” Teare grabbed her gun, ready to shoot, through her long ears trembled, betraying her nervousness, as she observed the foot long wooden splinter jammed into the barricade where she was standing a mere moment before.

“We…” As Bellaera and Teare opened fire again, this time they were aware of the possibility of counterattacks, and indeed, as all their shots were blocked, even the explosive, fiery rounds, more dark thorns were launched at them. Avoiding them, they continued the barrage, as did others from various barricades and fortifications. The Defensive Emplacements were barking out bolts of Aether as well, but one suddenly collapsed, destroyed, pierced through by a series of blackened stakes.

“Not good…” Bellaera cried, seeing the destination of the assailant. “The shrine… no, the Tree!”

A number of weaselkin left in reserve tried to block the intruder, but they were quickly sliced apart or left impaled by long spears of wood. Desperately shooting, Bellaera didn’t even feel it as she failed to dodge the counterattack, and a thorn lodged in her shoulder, piercing through cloth, metal and flesh, bright red and silver blood bubbling from the wound.

“If Asha is harmed… it will mean war!” Teare cried, she too hurt, though less so, cuts on her cheek from where shrapnel had scored her. “Worse, if the Territory is destroyed…”

Others were reacting, but as they gathered to rush to the defence of the Tree and Anchor, a booming voice called out coldly, and it was full of adherence, reality itself seeming to shiver. “Great Wall Of Twelve Gates!”

A great surge of power gathered, and suddenly the crest of the hill, comprising the shrine, Asha’s Rhyming Tree and the Ring Gates, were all sealed within a dome of shining golden light. Twelve statues of winged humans showing unearthly beauty were holding swords at equal intervals around the hemisphere of light, and even approaching, Bellaera, Teare and the other defenders could feel a sense of dread.

“No, this… this is bad!” Bellaera cried, recognising the terrible power behind the barrier. Desperately, she opened fire at the dome of shimmering golden light, only for her bullet to be reflected, the golden wall rippling. Her eyes widened, and one of the nearby angelic statues suddenly opened its eyes, raising a sword high. It spoke, words that were not in any tongue Bellaera understood, yet the meaning was somehow still clear.

[The Gate Of Issachar Is Barred To The Sinful!]

The statue slashed downwards, and a beam of condensed light tore towards the stunned Bellaera, only for her to be knocked aside. There was a cry of pain, and a rush of blood splashed her face, before she hit the ground hard, the weight of another on top of her. Panicked, she looked at Teare, who grinned weakly at her, blood gushing from a bad wound in her thigh, the bone showing, already carbonised and turning black.

“I guess… I returned the favour, Bell.” Teare managed to grin, while Bellaera ground her teeth, trying to remain calm, to keep in her angry shouts and tears. Hauling up her injured cousin and friend, she glanced back at the dome of radiance, only to see the statue had resumed its original position, eyes sliding shut. The defenders had frozen, unwilling to provoke the barrier recklessly, and she was at a loss as to her next move.

“You idiot.” Bellaera managed at last, as she bent down to apply a tourniquet and field surgery, a skill most ranking Way-Wardens had mastered. “You could have been killed. But... I’m glad you weren’t. and thanks.” As she tied off the injury with a strip of cloth from her leggings, she frowned at the charred bone. “When the princess is done slaughtering her enemies, she’ll fix you right up, I’m sure.”

Teare gave a slow nod, her grin pained. “Yes, that would be great. I’m afraid this hurts a damn lot, Bell. Still…” She glanced over at the dome. Another brave Fae approached, slashing at one wall, only for another statue to declare [The Gate Of Zebulun Shall Not Open To The Wicked] and obliterate the poor weaselkin with a golden slash, burning a furrow in the ground two dozen metres in length.

“…we have to think of something! We can’t let Asha fight without us!”

Nodding, Bellaera also watched the shimmering barrier balefully. It will be fine. It has to be! After all, if we have to entrust everything to Akio, and we fall apart in his absence, why are we even here? No… we are strong, and our enemies have underestimated us and our resolve. Asha will be fine…

***

Shaeula Tu Shae Dannan, Akio’s Territory, Boundary Tokyo

“Die, you ungodly wretch!” the man clad in white and gold exulted, his voice a snarl, as explosives and bullets rained down on Shaeula. As a thin line of blood trickled from her pricked knuckle to the ground, Shaeula found herself grinning, even in this desperate situation.

Iron nails, you say? I have experience of those…

A loud explosion, bigger than the rest, burst, and a swarm of iron balls were discharged from the fragmentation mine, shooting in all directions, piercing the smoke and dust that obscured the battlefield. The white-clad soldiers of the Church of True Revelation, Judges, as they called themselves, didn’t let up on their assault though, and gunfire tore through the murk, heavy impact sounds echoing.

“Yes, Cardinal Stuart shall be avenged, and the blessed relic, the Annulus Fortunae, shall be reclaimed!” the fanatic cried, only to pause, surprised, as a gust of green flicked aside the dust, revealing Shaeula, who was now standing, her golden fur dotted with splashes of silver and crimson blood, and tangled with dirt and dust. Seeing that, she tutted, vexed, and raising one hand, a beautiful jade sickle jutting from it, she called upon wind and water, washing herself off and straightening her torn yukata, even as more bullets flew at her.

“That is most-most uncomfortable.” Shaeula declared, irritated. Tilting her head cutely, her amber eyes narrowed, she waved her hand again, and a jade ripple of air repelled the incoming attacks, scattering them.

“That… that is impossible!” the leader of her assailants grunted, eyes wide. He turned to a woman in white behind him, who was carrying a metal censer akin to those used in religious ceremonies, a thurible, ornate and chased with ruby and gold, swinging it on a chain, each motion releasing more puffs of invisible, sweet-smelling metallic incense. “You foul Fae cannot resist the adherence within the iron, your very natures abhor it!”

“That is not-not incorrect.” Shaeula agreed with a cold smirk on her lips, her weasel face showing her pointed teeth. “We Fae hate iron, I have no-no idea why, but it does not-not suit us. Only those who joined the Court from elsewhere, Dwarves, Trolls, others… they-they can tolerate it. Of course, I found my weakness to it greatly-greatly lessened when Akio gave me a new mortalform. Else how could I survive in Japan, iron is simply everywhere, is it not-not?” Her words were mocking, and she seemed to enjoy the burning eyes of the man as he stared at her, enraged. One Judge lifted his rifle to open fire, only to drop headless as Shaeula raised one ankle, and an invisible blade of wind flew from the jade sickle there.

“Do not-not interrupt me. A monologue or a transformation sequence, neither are to be-be intruded upon, it is simply quite-quite terrible manners.”

“How… we magnified the effect tenfold, no, more! You worthless heretic creature, a perversion of man, the iron blessed by our true faith should reduce you to ashes! It was working, I saw you falter…”

“See-see?” Shaeula gloated. “I let you-you speak, did I not-not? Manners. To answer your curiosity, before the end… yes-yes, it caught me quite by surprise. But the thing is… I am royal on both sides. I am not-not merely a weaselkin, but also a Kamaitachi. And there is no-no mythology of weakness to iron for we Itachi.”

Having said her piece, Shaeula suddenly moved, her speed a blur. A sword appeared in her hands, the wind surging around it, moaning balefully, and with a casual slice she cut through several opponents. That sparked her enemies into action once again, and soon she was being fired upon from all angles.

How… trivial. Shaeula felt the fortunate winds blow around her, strengthened by the ring on her finger, and it was simplicity itself to bend her body to avoid incoming attacks, tilt her head at the right moment to avoid a grenade, which exploded, the debris harmlessly deflected by the rushing winds around her. The Mortal Fragarach in her hand flashed, as did her jade sickles, wind blades surging in an endless tide of attacks, and the enemies around her diminished in number, bodies striking the floor.

The thurible hit the ground, bouncing, chain severed, followed by the severed arm of the woman holding it, then her body, white robes stained red and silver with her blood. The lead assailant seemed stunned, as his carefully laid ambush crumbled, his Judges and their squires decimated, as well as the devout believers they had brought, were reaped as though they were wheat before the scythe that was Shaeula.

“You… you monster! Ungodly abomination!” he cried, so furious that a trickle of blood leaked from his nose, staining his face which was already covered with dust and dirt from Shaeula’s gusting winds.

“I shall take-take that as a compliment.” Shaeula grinned toothily, raising her ornate sword high. The hilt was richly decorated with knotwork, and the blade itself almost seemed to ripple, as if seen through a haze of heat. “Now then…” Her winds blew again, and this one was damp, as if an invisible fog. Her opponent shivered, but he did not relent, and as he readied for battle, adherence surged, visible to Shaeula’s amber eyes.

“Tell me true, you interloper. Just what-what are you hoping to achieve? All that you will leave on this soil is blood-blood and bones.” Shaeula asked, and the man sneered, even as his skeletal warriors, the Martyred Dead, as Shaeula had heard Mary Stuart call them before, were charging over. Ugly, pitiful monstrosities. To her eyes, she could see their spirit lights, so unlike the brilliant orbs that spun around her near-invisibly now, their numbers growing, which enraged Shaeula still further.

Their lights are one with the bones and can never be separated. How… tragic. But I shall still not show mercy. For they little deserve it.

“It shall be your blood that soaks this profane ground!” the man cried. “I call upon you! Descend unto us, Archangel!”

The adherence, so thick as to be almost tangible as a presence in the air, poured into the man from elsewhere. Shaeula tried to see the mechanism by which it worked, it seemed he was absorbing it from his fallen comrades, but the majority was provided from inside him, leaking from a strange Favour within him. Shaeula then hissed, tears of silver blood springing from her eyes, and she had to blink them away, stopping her inspection. My Eyes are not as perceptive as Akio’s anymore, it seems. Something I shall surely have to correct. I have my pride. While I am proud of his growth, I have no wish to be left behind. After all, I have many rivals to keep me sharp, and always striving.

“You think your little Archangel scares me-me? How droll.” Shaeula let out a mocking laugh, even as she swept her blade high. “I am she who commands the winds, I wield the legacy of Nuada Airgetlám, and as a Fae, I carry-carry the lineage of the Tuatha Dé Danann, no-no matter how distant.  The winds heed-heed my call! As do you, intruder!” A whipping gale of emerald, jade, peridot and other shades of rich, gemlike green towered up into the sky. Several nearby skeletons were sucked in, and their bones quickly reduced to powder, spirit lights dimming and extinguishing as their anchors to existence were destroyed.

Lightning started to be drawn from her, for lightning shared a connection with the winds, and so her Mortal Fragarach also gave her control over it. Perhaps it was not how it was supposed to work, but Shaeula had been with Akio long enough, and worked with great minds such as Ixitt and Arisu, to know that how things were supposed to be were simply crutches for the ignorant. Several forks flickered down, blasting craters into the ground and destroying yet more of the undead. “Now… speak, you wretched fool-fool, I bid you!”

The man laughed madly, even as the adherence took shape, forming a being of what at first appeared to be great beauty, an androgynous figure, slender and beautiful, with two great wings comprised of pure white features spreading out three metres from each of the Angel’s shoulders. But there was definitely something wrong with it, as though the beauty was simply a mask, hiding what lay beneath, and as it moved, slightly jerky, as though an improperly put together puppet, the flesh squirmed, and Shaeula’s eyes once more itched and burned. I preferred the Principality. At least it looked like what it was, an abomination…

“We know that is martyrdom! All over this sinful world, we rise up! Many will fall, but our places at the right hand of God, bathing in the light of the Throne atop the Ninth Heaven, is assured by our sacrifice!” At his words, the Archangel attacked, a sword of light forming in one hand, and armour surrounding the slender, seemingly frail body, also made of light, this tinted a brilliant golden. Shaeula dodged, barely evading the slash, and then a follow-up, her fur singed.

Taking the opportunity, she sent out wind and lightning, shattering skeletons one after another, even as she barely evaded the Archangel as it rushed at her. The mouth opened wide, far wider than a mouth should, and out came an unearthly scream.

[Be Slowed Before The Light Of Zadkiel, For The Weight Of Your Sins]

Shaeula stumbled, twisting her body to avoid another blinding slash, suddenly clumsy, as the foolish mortal continued to shout, exultant.

“Our deaths are meaningless, for our wills are passed on, strength borrowed from the Lord reclaimed. For there is no greater joy than to give everything for the Lord, just as Abraham would have given up his only son! But the Lord is kind… our mortal forms are nothing, compared to the soul everlasting!”

You talk too much. But…

“Sear her away with the light of purification!” The Judge laughed scornfully, seeing Shaeula’s great advantage eroded, her movements down from her near imperceptible grace to merely swift. “No, the Grigori, those who watch, they see all. The false tree of knowledge must be uprooted, and the three fruits that fall burned to ashes. The book that sees shall be put to the fire, and the eyes that see blinded, the devil who masquerades as Divine purged, the heads of the snakes severed…” At that moment, Shaeula felt a great surge of adherence from back towards the shrine, and she turned her head, barely evading another slash from the so-called Archangel.

“Yes, the false tree shall be cut down, and every leaf, branch, root and scrap of bark reduced to dust. None can stand against the Rota Iudicii, Judgement will come when the tree is broken upon the wheel! And the spiritual Great Wall Of Twelve Gates shall never admit the sinful!” He suddenly paused, shaking his head, face damp, and not with tears or sweat. “Wait, what am I…”

“I see-see.” Shaeula spoke at last, her Winds And Waters Of Devotion And Worship having done their work. The hillside was surrounded by a brilliant golden dome, and occasional blasts of golden light similar to what the annoying Archangel was wielding were flashing out. “Most-most frustrating. If there is even a scratch upon Asha or-or her Tree, Akio will see you suffer. But…” Asha is not weak, though I doubt she can fight someone of the strength of that mad female Mary Stuart. And I sense a similar, no, a stronger presence behind that gleaming dome… fortunately, she is not alone here. While Akio was absent, she has been put to use…

Shaeula’s lips curled into a mocking grin, made even more insulting to the Judge by her weasel features.

“Has the despair broken you, vile abomination?” he crowed, as his remaining Martyred Dead had surrounded her. “If so, bow your head and kneel, pray to the Lord and perhaps you will find salvation in…”

“Oh do shut-shut up.” Shaeula sniffed. “I do not-not like interrupting monologues, but yours is simply too-too irritating for my delicate ears…” She swept the Fragarach down, blocking the slash from the false Archangel. Light scattered, but her own brilliant blue energies countered the golden radiance. “…you gave me the answer I did-did require, so now… time to die…”

“Arrogance! The Archangel…”

“…is nothing, you fool-fool! I have fought a so-called Principality. You think this-this scares me?”

Shaeula grimaced, and her aether flowed, resisting the adherence that was slowing her. It shattered with a loud bang, a pressure wave scattering, and Shaeula’s whirling mass of wind and lightning collapsed, the remaining dead blown apart. “No, I shall make-make this swift.”

“Impossible!” the Judge cried, stumbling backwards, wide-eyed, as Shaeula suddenly drove his Archangel back. “There is simply no…” He then opened and closed his mouth silently, eyes wide with fear and surprise, before he coughed, blood showering from his mouth, traces of green wind element bubbling from his throat, slicing his tongue.

“It seems…” Shaeula snorted mockingly. “That you do not-not believe your own words. And why-why should you?” Shaeula swung Mortal Fragarach, and the Archangel staggered. It opened its mouth wide to howl again, only for a bubble of green to shroud the head with its gaping open jaws. The scream could still be heard, despite Shaeula conjuring a vacuum to block the sound, which surprised her, but then adherence operated on strange principles.

“Annoying!” Shaeula was hit by the muted soundwave, and it was rather painful, but with her superior stats and Ether Healing, she was good as new in moments. Her sword flashed, wind and lightning drawn to the blade, and one white wing was severed, the Archangel screaming soundlessly, mouth agape, blank, inky eyes glowing balefully, golden armour of light flickering and dimming. The wing hit the ground, before breaking apart into sparkling motes of light, which were drawn into the Territory.

“…after all…” Shaeula kicked aside the wounded abomination, her lithe leg striking like a snake. “…this is what you want from me, no-no?” She flourished the ring on her finger. “Which means I did-did help slay your Mary Stuart. So you are but-but an annoyance in comparison. But none may lie before my blade. Lest you be silenced and suffer!”

Fragarach flashed again, and the other wing was hewn off. Lightning surged into the wound, and one eye burst. Moments later the Archangel collapsed, a Pinwheel unravelling from under Shaeula’s ragged yukata and the wire, thrumming with wind, bisected the creature into multiple parts, the golden armour barely able to hold for a moment against her great winds. The sword then swung, and the head exploded with one last barely heard scream.

“I did not-not fight the Principality alone, but-but… I am also not-not the female I was then. We grow-grow and change.” Shaeula declared with satisfaction, her small chest puffed out. “Besides, this is merely trash. It does not-not even qualify as a fake Angel if you ask me. Compared to the Principality, this was most-most pathetic.”

With one last look over her shoulder at the dome trapping the shrine and Asha’s Tree, she then gave the stunned enemy her full attention.

“It is time-time…” Shaeula’s eyes were glowing brilliantly, and the Judge staggered backwards, glancing around for help, but his own forces and even the Martyred Dead he had called were all destroyed in the gale, and the remaining troops were hard pressed elsewhere in the Territory. Seeing there was no help coming, he opened his mouth to speak, but only blood, wind and silence came forth from his lips. Seeing that, Shaeula snickered cruelly.

“Second thoughts? Well, I fear-fear it is far too late for those. You wanted martyrdom, yes-yes? Well then…” Mortal Fragarach slashed out, and the fool fell, body striking the ground. As he died, Shaeula watched closely, only to shake her head. “No, it seems I can not-not probe the mysteries of this Favour. It does not-not seem like the others. But I shall remember, and perhaps Akio can make-make sense of it on his return. His return.” Her thoughts turned to Akio. I do hope he is not in any danger in that far-off land. No, I suspect he can handle himself just fine. It is for us to prove we can protect ourselves now. It would not do to constantly be a burden… my pride will not stand that.

Glancing around, Shaeula could see Daiyu, Violet, and even her foolish brother were acquitting themselves well. The momentum of the attack was blunted, and despite the early setbacks when the mortal weapons reaped a surprising toll, matters had inevitably turned in their favour. All this, just for… Shaeula turned her gaze back to the gleaming dome the fool had called the Great Wall Of Twelve Gates.

Shaking her head, she sheathed Mortal Fragarach and retrieved her Pinwheel, before deciding to see if she could breach the golden wall. It is not that I have little trust in she who remains within, but… no harm must come to Asha. None at all…