Aodh 807 - The World Is Shaking

You are victorious.
The kirins lay dead, and for ten heartbeats, you feel relief wash over you.
Then, on the horizon, a new army.
A real army, not just a scouting party like the one you just took down.
Antlered heads and glistening scales, they march towards you. An open, fearless assault, the attack of an army that knows it will win.
With horror and despair, you realize that you will die.

Fields burn. People scream as they run for the cover of the city walls, but some of them are shot down by fire and light and electricity.
Opulence could fall to this.
Opulence will fall to this. It will burn.
It is not ready for a siege.

So far from New Valore, you are terribly alone.

---

Ignacio watches the fight as it unfolds. Watches from as close as he dares. Even from where he is, on the edge of the Starscape, barely there, he can feel the pull.
He is afraid.
He is devastated.
Yet he knows what he must do.

Brother.
Alya stands next to him in all her storm wrought glory. She is already angry, her lands defiled and her blessings tainted.
She is angry with him as well.
But she came.

Sister.
Ignacio’s voice shudders with emotion.
Sister, I need your help.
The god’s being is laid bare before Alya. She sees his hope, his soaring pride, and his defeat.
She had not forgiven his betrayal, but Alya has always been fond of her brother.
He was the one dearest to her, once.

You know what I will do.
She says, her voice like the beat of a war drum.
You know what I must do.
Alya presses.

You must do what I cannot.
Ignacio looks at the unfolding scene. The fear and pain and the poisonous pride of his children.
They are all his children, and he loves them.
Only a god could feel so much pain.
I choose them.
His ancient heart bleeds, but he cannot look away.

Brother.
Alya’s voice is almost gentle. For a moment, it is as if they are standing at the edge of creation again, watching a world just born.
Let me be your blade.
I will do what must be done.
Alya spreads her wings and bursts into mortal existence.

Her wings, a galaxy biting into a storm, blot out the sun. The kirins stop, and stare at their ancient enemy.
They remember her, just as she remembers them.
She remembers her rage.
She looks into their eyes, eyes tainted by rage and hatred and superstition, and she remembers each of her children, taken from her before their time.
She remembers them in their glory, when they flew across the skies of Eithne into their death.
She remembers the Fury who is the mother of this nation. One of hers. One most dear to her.
She remembers.
She mourns.
She rages.

This world is not yours to destroy.
Alya’s four wings beat up a storm. The sky darkens and storm clouds gather. Hireath trembles at the rage of a goddess, a goddess unbridled.
Never again will you rise to threaten me and mine.
I will not let you.
A maelstrom of clouds whirls above. Thunder cracks and lightning strikes. She feels her brother’s presence.
His anguish twists effortlessly to compliment her rage.
Fire and wind were meant to be.

The clouds break. The sky is afire with stars, and with deadly precision, Alya strikes into the kirins.
There are no words to be said.
No excuses to be given.
She is the wind, and today, the wind is destruction. The sky bends to her will, and when the storm settles, the kirin army is no more.

The goddess of winds turns to regard you, the fury of a tornado in her eyes.
You will make things right.
With a single beat of her wings, she is gone.

The sun shines again.
But for a moment, the two moons share the sky with it.