Thursday: 06/30/2033: 5:00 am. Boris is woken up by Y’vanna shifting her body over on top of him. “Y’vanna. Please. I can’t breathe.” He then tries to slide out of bed and onto the floor, only for her to pull him back up and wrap her long arm around him like an icy python, chilling his flesh as her dark nails dig into his abdomen. “Please. I need to breathe, Y’vanna. I won’t be long.” “Five minutes, Moroz.” She releases her grip on him, and he slides down onto the floor beside the bed, coming to rest on a thick fur rug which he wraps around himself. He then notices the spots where she dug her nails into his belly, bleeding only slightly but certainly red and puffy, swiftly turning purple. He knows that there is something she’s withholding from him, and it’s not only his beloved Nedeżda. He doesn’t know whether it’s just because she’s taller and wider, but he’s noticed that her belly has been growing, if only slightly. His thoughts and her sleep are interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door. “What?!” “Mistress.” “What is it?! What gives you leave to interrupt Our sleep?!” “The rebels have been sighted near the Nine Blue Suns, Mistress.” “Destroy them, then!” “We are already stretched thin, Mistress. We must order our forces to return here to rebuild our numbers and regroup.” “And give that wretched Venëra time to do the same?! We’ll not have it! Take your legions, all of them, to Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri and ensure that not one single rebel leaves that nebula! We can handle these tiny little people Ourselves. Now, go!” “Yes, Mistress.”
6:00 am. On Qa’laana Të, the dragon wakes up and nudges Ares’veron awake, causing him to roll two or three times. “Uuya! Ëi’ho lÿri’hir!” It follows him outside, all the time nudging him with its snout. “Patience.” No sooner than he climbed up on its back did it take off flying above the island, letting out a loud bellowing into the morning air. “Shh! You’ll wake them!”
Back in the cave, Hikari is giving the babies their morning milk when Rynaerë, carrying a knife, tries to sneak up on her, only for Syldris, facing behind Hikari, to shout “Turn around!” at Hikari, leading the latter to turn to face her enemy. “Go back to bed, Rynaerë!” “Why don’t you go back to bed, Chuck?!” Rynaerë turns to Chuck, and they get into a scrap over the knife as Hikari takes the babies to the beach, sitting in the sand. Rynaeron, meanwhile, just lays in his bed, curled around a half-empty bottle.
Ares’veron, still in the air with the dragon, thinks he sees a mass far off in space, a black cloud that slightly occludes the dawn’s light, casting a shadow millions of miles wide. “Home!” The dragon dives back down to the island and they land, thoroughly put off. Upon seeing Hikari sitting on the beach, he asks “What are you doing out here?! Don’t you see that?!” “See what, Master?” “That dark cloud in space, casting the shadow, Irakih?!” “Of course there’s clouds in front of the dawn, but not in space, Master.” He looks at the dawn again, only to be extremely confused by the clouds in the air but not millions of miles out in space. “It was pitch black, Irakih! I swear!” A woman’s blood-curdling scream issues from the cave followed by a man also screaming in pain. “What’s going on now?!” Ares’veron marches back into the cave, Irakih following a slight distance behind him. Inside, close to the cooking fire, Rynaerë stands holding a bloody knife, one of her wings with the feathers partially burnt off while Chuck is curled up on the ground clutching his abdomen with one hand as his other hand holds a still lit piece of wood from the fire. “I leave this cave for any length of time and you’re already getting into knife fights with my acolyte. I’m getting closer and closer to just getting rid of you, Rynaerë.” “It’s that Irakih! She’s a witch! She has to be to make you love her and not me!” Her tirade is punctuated by her brother letting out a loud, guttural burping followed by an even louder fart. Chuck, still gripping his stomach, shouts at Rynaeron, expressing his frustration. “And you’re very useful, aren’t you, you drunken fool!” “I’ve been nothing but loyal to you for almost a hundred years, Ares’veron Bangômari! And you’ve had your toys, but you always came back to me! Come back to me, Master!” Rynaerë devolves into a frenzy of stringy, unwashed ashen hair and burnt feathers, wildly waving the knife around her, emitting a sound somewhere halfway between laughing and crying before charging at Hikari. Ares’veron, in response, catches her, knocking the knife out of her hand and wrestling her down into the empty magma chamber and sealing the entrance, only receiving a few bites and scratches. “Master?” “That cover stone is not to be moved as long as we stay here, Crawford.” “Noted.” Ares’veron bends down and heals Chuck’s abdomen before sitting down with Hikari to eat the meat that had been cooking on the fire. “Irakih?” “Yes, Master?” “Rynaerë has proven herself unworthy of being my favorite and bed-mistress. You, on the other hand, are more than worthy. Do you accept my offer?” “I do, Master.” “Good. Come here.”
8:00 am. I am woken up by the ringing of my mirror. “Good morning, Ma’am.” “Good morning, Feline. We need to talk about the Hatorri rebels.” “What’s going on with them, Ma’am?” “Remember how I said that they were using the Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri to build new ships?” “Yeah.” “I heard that a massive cloud of darkness is approaching them.” “Shadows?” “No. We don’t know if the servants of Y’vanna are related to the Shadows. As far as we know, they’re all enemies of Sahra.” “Have you heard from Venëra, Ma’am?” “Yes, Feline. In fact, she has sent a representative of the Hatorri rebels to Earth who wishes to meet you and your teammates. They’ll be at the White House in two hours.” “We’ll see you there, Ma’am.” With that, I go to Zalo’s room where I see her, her mother, and grandmother waking up and eating breakfast. “Good morning, Feline.” “Good morning, Your Majesty. The rebels are at Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri and are preparing to retake Hatorra.” “Good. Inform Princess Venëra that We have authorized her to act as Our regent over Hatorra.” “Princess?” “She is my late husband’s twin sister, daughter of Zalomëa I.” “This makes Nedeżda a princess as well.” “And my late husband’s younger cousin.” “Younger cousin?” “We never saw Princess Xaëtyn or her husband Ilya again after that wretch took Boris as her concubine.” “Very well, Your Majesties. I will deliver Your message.”
10:00 am. The four of us arrive at the White House and upon entering the Oval Office, we see a man standing next to the President, who if not for being Hatorri, would’ve been easily mistaken for a child as he only came up to her bust line. His face is punctuated by a set of long claw marks that extend from above his left hairline to just below his collarbone, the surrounding skin turned grayish blue by such a frigid sting, that part of his hair turned completely white. His eyes are a piercing blue. “Ilya, meet our most powerful defenders.” He turns his gaze up to us, and we realize that except for the marks, he looks a bit like Boris. “If you must know, I was her last valet.” “But we thought that he drowned himself after she killed his wife.” “Adova tells many lies about those who displease her. She killed my beautiful, beloved Xaëtyn, giving me this scar when I tried to save her. It was then that she set her sights on my little brother.” “How does she choose her valets, Ilya?” “She always chooses a man, for women are too great of a threat to her to be allowed to roam free within her palace, so she turns them to stone, and even shatters them with no provocation necessary. I know for a fact that the man before me did throw himself into a frozen lake.” “I’m sorry, Ilya.” “She also did things to me that are not polite to speak of here. Xaëtyn witnessed it once and being unable to stand the thought of me being violated, in anger, she stabbed Y’vanna square in the heart, which at first, I thought killed her. Y’vanna Adova is not like the rest of the Hatorri. I fear that nothing in this world can kill her. Not if a knife to the heart can’t. She was more angry about getting blood on her dress.” “She’s an Immortal?” “If she is, she’s old; far older and fouler than any we know about.” “She called herself a divine Regent, supposedly sent by our goddess to protect us, but she is only a devil, coming from the outer darkness to mock the Green Mother and torment us, for what transgression, we don’t know.” “How many ships have been built, Ilya?” “Are they enough to challenge Adova and restore the Żari to the throne?” “Through the use of the facilities at Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri, we have thus far been able to build nearly as many ships as we captured from the demons during the first battle of the Nine Blue Suns.” “What’s the timeline for an invasion of Hatorra, Ilya?” “Venëra intends to capture Y’vanna and put her on trial for crimes against our people within the year. We’re working on a way to keep her contained if she indeed cannot be definitively killed.” “Zalomëa never told us that Boris had a brother.” “When a valet, or should I say, concubine, displeases Y’vanna, she silences their name from being spoken. She wants something from them, and if it fails to grow in her belly, she throws them away. If a man were to give her one, she’d let him and his wife go free, though so far, it hasn’t happened yet. It will never be known if she would’ve gotten one from me had Xaëtyn not tried to put an end to it.” “Gotten what, Ilya?” “A child.” “What would the likes of her want with a child?” “I don’t know. Something, an old legend, a prophecy that speaks of a figure called the Zeleniyë, the Voice of the Green Mother who will bring peace to our world.” “Why would she want to give birth to her potential future nemesis?” “I ask myself that question every day, Immortal.”
At Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri, Venëra is on the bridge of her flagship, the Żar Valeri, reminiscing on the death of her elder daughter Xaëtyn and worrying endlessly about the fate of her younger daughter Nedeżda. “My grandchild would’ve been about 3 by now, if that wretch hadn’t killed them while dishonoring Ilya.” “Ma’am.” “What is it?” “A cloud of darkness approaches the nebula. Probably the demons.” “Then we’ll leave this place and retake Hatorra, drive out the remaining demons, and capture this horror from the outer darkness.” At her order, the Hatorri fleet leaves Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri and enters hyperspace, leaving Y’vanna’s demons trapped between the nine stars, withering in their light and heat while others desert their mistress’ cause, fleeing into the dark void.
12:00 pm. Theo is napping in bed, his arms clasped around his belly, his deep, sonorous purr echoing through the upper canopy of the trees. The bob on the end of his tail softly brushes against his nose. In his dream, he sees a multitude of dragons rising from the ground and bringing untold destruction to multiple worlds. “Hbax qi saa’t?!” He then sees seven Xi’ôrr’qahxí, hears a voice shouting “Zëm’aië! Sruul! Zëm’rrù’zrat’hgat’zëm’hgat!” and tries to learn more but is shaken awake before the vision is complete. “Hbax qi saa’t?” “Hgari’rhûx, oën’që.” Dylan kneels beside him, placing a covered basket of bread rolls and chicken on the bed. Theo sniffs the food excitedly, prompting Dylan to boop him on the nose, at which Theo blows a raspberry, sticking his tongue out. “Smells good, dear.” “Good. Daughter Xi’ôrrana made it.”
Fire-fist, tired of his surroundings, decides to leave, enacting the Tewir teleportation spell, disappearing and reappearing on a new world, one buffeted by cold winds, the sky obscured by frigid, gray clouds. He then realizes he’s in a cave. Exploring his surroundings further, he comes upon the statue of a Hatorri woman, her face frozen in fear and trepidation. Cold and hungry, he casts an envelope of heat around his body, and he picks up the stone woman, carrying her to the mouth of the cave. In the distance, he sees the faint glow of a city, and thinking he might find food there, he decides to walk himself and the stone woman into the city. Upon arriving, he notices the empty streets and lack of noise, apart from the howling, biting winds. He then sees the eerie light of the Palace and cautiously, he approaches the edifice, not knowing anything about who dwells there. “Hello?! Is anyone here?!” His shout merely fades into the noise of the blizzard, barely reaching the Palace’s front gates. Setting the stone woman down a distance away, he grunts, and with a stomp of his foot, he unleashes a wave of heat and a sudden boom that shakes the city and the Palace, echoing into the distance. Then, he sees a very tall lady in white come out onto the balcony. “What do you want, interloper?!” “I came to this planet. I need food and shelter, Lady!” “What is your name, stranger?” “Fire-fist, Lady.” “Very well. Come on inside, then.” She then notices the stone woman placed off to the side, and when Boris comes to the balcony, he almost gasps, just barely holding it in to not let Y’vanna hear him. “Nedeżda?” He worries for the uninvited guest, knowing what may await him should he enter, but does nothing, trying to think of a way to keep him safe, despite him being a perfect stranger. “Boris, bring Our special guest something to eat, won’t you?” “As you wish, Mistress.” Boris goes to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of soup for each of them, adding an extra ingredient to two of the three bowls before returning to Fire-fist and Y’vanna, who are already seated at her table. He serves the soup to the three of them and they eat. “So, tell Us, Fire-fist. How did you come into Our domain?” “I came here from another world, Lady. I am one of the Tewir.” “Then where are your wings, Tewir?” “They were hacked off by a madman who locked me in his basement.” “You poor thing.” She moves him abruptly next to her and puts her hand down his back, rubbing his wing stumps and leaving them chilled with her touch. “Don’t.” He moves quickly away from her. “Don’t you miss them, Rusty?” “How?” “We could restore them for you. Wouldn’t you like that?” He looks back at her in disbelief. “Wouldn’t you like to soar through the skies once again, Rusty?” “You can really do that, Lady?” “For a price.” The look on Boris’ face turns to one of horror. First, this unknown man, this wanderer, appears and brings the statue form of his beloved Nedeżda right back in the reach of his tormentor. Second, he’s offered a chance to fly again, and though Boris knows that Y’vanna can do many things, he doesn’t know if she can follow through on her offer. Then, a wave of dizziness comes over both him and the Tewir, ending in streams of roiling hot material spilling out of both of their mouths, with some of it coating Y’vanna’s face and dress, making her scream in disgust. Boris grabs Fire-fist’s hand and tries to run out of the Palace with him, with an enraged Y’vanna following behind them, her heavy footfalls shaking the building. “Can you get us out of here, stranger?!” “Much of my power has been drained from my arrival here, but I will try!” Fire-fist picks up the stone woman and lets him climb on his back despite his painful wing stumps. They run away from the Palace. “FOOLS! THIEVES! You’ll all pay for this insult!” She bursts the front gates asunder like the cold north wind and descends upon them in a wrath witnessed only by those who suffered a grim fate. Using what strength he has left, Fire-fist teleports them away, but Boris loses his hold on the Tewir’s back and is dragged back, kicking and screaming, through the Palace gates.
1:00 pm. “I’ve received word from Princess Venëra that the fleet has left Kyva’îs’hmírri’hgÿri and is on its way back to retake Hatorra from this monster! Join us, Great Ones!” We go aboard the Harriet Tubman, which is already almost to Hatorra. “Good afternoon, General Tovalle.” “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. You all realize that this mission is not public knowledge, right?” “Yes. Officially, Y’vanna is our ally, but it’s time we dealt with this problem of her choking and freezing their world to death.” “Since the testimony of Mr. Moroz here indicates that she cannot be terminated or executed through conventional means, focus should instead be on capture and containment of the enemy.” “Do we know where Y’vanna and Boris are?” “They’re presumably in the Palace. The only way to be sure is to see if that global weather system is still active. Where are her demons?” “They’re all tied up at that shipyard, Ma’am, according to Venëra.” “Your mission is to extract Boris and either capture or incapacitate Y’vanna. To that end, use whatever force is necessary.” “Yes, Ma’am.” We exit hyperspace to find the Hatorri rebel fleet surrounding the planet and fighting whatever demons remain.
2:00 pm. Fire-fist wakes up in a strange gray room filled with crates and lit by long, fluorescent bulbs, once more next to the statue of Princess Nedeżda and is horrified to notice that Boris isn’t with him. “Boris?! Boris?!” He looks around, trying to find the tiny man. “No! Oh, may the Goddess protect him!” Wondering where he is, he begins banging on the door in a panic, prompting the door to open. “How’d you get in here?!” “Where’s Boris?!” “Who’s Boris? Who are you and how did you get on board this ship?” “Ship?” “You’re on board the UNS Harriet Tubman, a warship in the service of the planet Earth. What is your name and whom do you serve?” “Rusty Birchwood, sir. I serve no one.” The guard looks past him. “What is that?” “Please. Boris is in danger! I tried to take him with me, but he must have fallen off of my back. Oh, my back hurts!” The guard pulls off his robe and is overcome with shock.
General Tovalle is sitting on the bridge when she is interrupted by the intercom. “General Tovalle to the brig, please.” “The brig?” She gets up from her chair and goes down to the brig. “What’s this about? Who’s this man?” “He says his name is Rusty Birchwood and just a few minutes ago, he appeared in the cargo hold on deck 5, along with a small female statue.” “A small female statue.” “Yes, I met this wee man named Boris down at the Palace with this tall beast of a woman. She made him serve us soup and then he and I threw up on her. He must have put something in it that made us hurl. I grabbed his hand, and we ran with the statue, and I tried to take us away from the city, away from her, but he slipped off of my back. I’m afraid that he might be dead. His name is Boris.” The General sees the vomit residue on his robes. “All right. Put him up in the guests’ quarters and have someone examine his upper back.” “What about the statue, Ma’am? He claims it’s the petrified wife of the man he met today.” “Put her in a high security storage room.” Fire-fist looks at the General. “Please. I’m worried about him.” “Don’t worry, Mr. Birchwood. You and the woman are most safe here.”
We teleport down into the throne room of the Palace and though we split up to search for them, we cannot find either of them. Breaking into Y’vanna’s bedroom, we find nothing except for a bloodstained tunic. “Boris!” I look under the bed, only to not find him, dead or alive. “What has she done to him?!” Ilya goes into a rage and draws his weapon. “Y’vanna! Demon! Where are you?!” Then, the clouds clear away, indicating that the remaining demons were defeated, revealing the disks of the gods in all their celestial glory. “Ilya, look!” Looking out the window, he sees the green face of the great goddess and the bright point of light from the tiniest moon. “Siyaniyë.” We return to the throne room where we find Princess Venëra Myateżnik seated upon the throne of Hatorra. “We cannot find them, good mother.” Ilya shows her the bloodstained tunic. “There’s not much here. He’s probably alive but wounded. She must’ve sensed our approach and escaped.” “I also found this, Ma’am.” Sidera comes from the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup with what looks like vomit floating in the broth. Ilya cringes. “I had to make her food as well when I was her concubine.” “Why would there be vomit in it?” “I don’t know. Boris was always the plucky one.” “Come in, Ilya.” “What is it, General?” “I have some information concerning Y’vanna from a man who claims he was down in the Palace with her and another man earlier today.” “Did he say who the man’s name was?” “Boris, Ilya. He says he tried to help him escape her, but somehow lost him on the way to teleporting into one of our cargo holds.” “Let me speak to him, General!” “He’s in the middle of a medical exam. It looks like his wings were cut off.” “Bring me back aboard, General! As soon as he’s available, I would like to speak to him!” Ilya returns to the ship as Venëra establishes herself as the regent in the name of Żari Zalomëa. “We also have a statue of a woman here in our custody. Mr. Birchwood claims that she’s the wife of the man he tried to help escape.” “A stone woman? You found my Nedeżda?!” “I can’t think of anyone else it could be, Ma’am. Would you like to see her?” “Of course, General.” Venëra stands up from the throne and with Ilya, returns to the ship where she is brought to where her daughter is being kept.
“Where is this man who found her?” “He’s resting quietly, Ma’am. I’ll see if he’s up for a visitor.” The General goes to the room where Fire-fist is resting comfortably in bed, laying on his stomach, his wing stumps bandaged, and she gently wakes him. “Yes, General?” “There’s a visitor for you.” “Why not?” General Tovalle allows Venëra into the room and the Tewir draws himself up into a kneeling position on the bed, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. “Good afternoon, Ma’am.” “Are you Rusty Birchwood? Are you the man who saved my remaining daughter?” “She’s your daughter? The statue woman, Ma’am?” “Yes. I am Venëra, Princess of Hatorra, and leader of the Hatorri rebellion against the tyrant Y’vanna, who appears to have fled with my younger daughter’s husband.” “Yes. I tried to help him escape but he fell off my back. I can only imagine he was killed for his disobedience, Your Highness.” The Princess is undeterred. “We must hope that he is still alive. If what I know from Ilya’s experience is true, she’ll keep him alive until she has what she wants.”
Venëra and Ilya return to the surface where the Princess resumes her place, seated upon the Hatorri throne. “We authorize you four to keep Our daughter safe, to attempt to revive her if possible, but most of all, ensure that the traitor Y’vanna cannot reach her again.” “We will, Your Highness.”
10:00 pm. “Were you dreaming, Theo?” “Yes. I saw and heard things. Disturbing things.” “What were those things?” “Dragons, seven Direcats, and the numbers zëm’aië, sruul, and zëm’rrù’zrat’hgat’zëm’hgat.” Dylan is taken aback by this information. “Dragons? But the dragons were destroyed 10,000 years ago, and the Sruul’xi’ôrr’qahxí have not been seen since then.” “Zëm’rrù’zrat’hgat’zëm’hgat. That’s this year. It must be a date.” “Where did you see the dragons, Theo? Which planet?” “They were attacking so many planets, Dylan. Not just Tolimana, but Earth, Hatorra, i’Zami’Ta’alït’ha, and y’Za’ur’Ë’ia chiefly.” “Who would be able to raise the dragons from their graves, Theo? Who has that kind of power? Surely, he hasn’t returned, has he?” “If he has, then we’re in real trouble, oën’që.”
Friday: 07/01/2033: 8:00 am. We return home with the statue of Princess Nedeżda, bringing her into the room with the three Żaris. “Cousin!” “It’s her!” “How did you save her without having to battle Y’vanna, Feline?” “Because someone else arrived on Hatorra and tried to help Boris escape, only bringing himself and Nedeżda on board one of our ships. Apparently, according to him, Boris put something in his and the Tewir’s soup that made them sick on Y’vanna, which he used as an opportunity to try to run away. The Tewir, who calls himself Rusty Birchwood, thinks that Boris is likely dead. Y’vanna appears to have fled Hatorra with Boris.” “Where else in this Galaxy would she hide, Feline?” “I have no idea, Your Majesty. Princess Venëra has already installed herself as Regent in Your Majesty’s name.” “Good. The demons were destroyed, correct?” “Yes, Your Majesty.” “Now we just have to figure out how to reanimate Our cousin so that she can join the fight and exact retribution against the demon who dishonors her husband in bed.” “Of course, Your Majesty.” The tiny Empress shares her breakfast with me under the light of the divine moons.
11:00 pm. The door to Arachne’s office is left open. The girls are in bed, at least, the four youngest are in bed. Nadia, on the other hand, is wide awake. As required by her mother, she must stay awake until dawn on Friday nights. Wearing a pale pink, floor length satin robe, and her hair, jewelry, and makeup done in a manner consistent with someone much older, she begins to make her way downstairs when she hears muffled talking coming from her mother’s office. Making herself completely invisible, she enters the office. “I don’t know if she’s pregnant yet, or if she’s just really good at hiding it, Master.” “Very well. It doesn’t matter. If she fails to deliver, there are others that could just as easily fill that role, so keep her close, Arachne. If she is the one who will give me the child who will be sacrificed, you will be greatly rewarded under my new order.” “Sacrifice?” Nadia, confused, begins turning around to leave and continue her trip downstairs when she hears a male voice saying to Arachne: “She’s so beautiful, isn’t she? It’s a shame she wasn’t brought to me in person.”
Previous Episode: The Frying Game.
Next Episode: The Lord of the Chance.
