Early projections had the war ending in as little as two months.

A year after the attack on Gale, the end was nowhere in sight.

Terra Zephyr broke away from the Empire in the wake of the strike on Gale. Joining the Triumvirate, it led an attack against its neighbor, Terra Salvo, capturing it and its extensive striker crystal mines.

Cyclonia had responded with heavy blockades. Destroyers patrolled major trade routes to Triumvirate terras, confiscating goods before ordering supply ships to turn back. When smaller blockade runners began trying to sneak their way past, the Empire captured the ships and conscripted their crews.

A Triumvirate task force had been formed to launch an attack against Terra Glockenchime, hoping to disrupt the Timepulse and bring the blockade ships down. Cyclonian spies had caught wind of the plot, and anonymously alerted Atmosia of the imminent attack. The attempt was repelled, and the incident proved to be a major blow to the Triumvirate, who had been working hard to prey upon the sympathies of the free Atmosians. Noticeably fewer blockade runners had been seen after the failed plan.

Skirmishes became more commonplace as the war dragged on, and the Triumvirate eventually succeeded in breaking the blockade.

When Cyclonian scouts intercepted an incriminating message from Boreal to Acorus, the governor of Terra Kalamos, Tanager had ordered the letter be laced with a potent, skin permeating toxin. The captured Triumvirate messenger, unaware of what had been done, had been forced to deliver it under the watchful eye of a disguised Talon. Both the messenger and Acorus were dead by the next morning. Public outrage at the Triumvirate's treachery swept through the terra, and a new governor, a staunch supporter of Master Cyclonis, was chosen. The threat of Kalamos splitting from the Empire was averted, as was the danger such a split would have posed to Kalamos' nearest neighbor, Terra Zartacla.

It was that event which led to Lark being stuck on some backwater terra.

The people of Kalamos may have been fooled by Cyclonis' ploy, but Boreal had not. Reports from multiple sources suggested that he was planning to strike back at Tanager on a personal level. Acorus had been a cousin of Boreal's, and if there was one thing he considered sacred, it was family. And so Tanager had sent Lark, under the protection of Dark Ace, to Terra Hazen, another neighbor of Kalamos. After they were gone, he let it be known that he had sent her back to Terra Mire.

It didn't matter to Lark where she was sent, be it Mire, Hazen, or Bluster itself. She was not happy about being away from Cyclonia, again. In the last few months, her grandfather had begun asking her opinion on small political matters. If her advice made sense to him, he'd take what she said into consideration when making his decisions. If it did not, he'd talk her through the situation until she understood where she had faltered in her judgment. If she didn't agree with his assessment, he'd indulge her arguments, and they'd eventually agree to disagree. It allowed her to spend more time with him than ever before, and while she still did not feel close to him, and possibly never would, it did at least make her feel valued.

But now, that had been taken away from her.

"Doncha like it here?" asked Innes, the eight-year-old son of Augusta Rae, Hazen's governor and their hostess. It was her second day there, and he was leading her along his favorite path around the family manor. Dark Ace shadowed them as they walked.

"It's beautiful," she offered. And it was. In the morning, the haze that gave the terra its name would reflect the sunlight, bathing the land in a golden glow that would slowly fade as the moisture evaporated, revealing a brilliant blue sky. The grounds of the manor were meticulously groomed, all lush lawns, rose gardens, and magnolia groves. Compared to the harsh barrenness of Cyclonia, or the strangled overgrowth of Mire, Hazen was a paradise. Under different circumstances, she might actually have appreciated the beauty and hospitality the terra offered.

"You seem sad," he said.

Her expression hardened as she frowned at him, "I'm not."

"Mama says it's okay to feel sad, sometimes."

Lark cast a glance back towards the manor, where Augusta Rae watched them from the shade of the porch. A tall, aristocratic woman, she was dressed head to toe in black, in honor of her husband, who had been killed in a pitched battle for the Terra Tundras last month. Lark thought it rather callous of her grandfather to impose upon the woman so soon after her loss, but Augusta had insisted that it was no trouble at all.

"I'm not," she repeated, with considerably less venom than before. "You have more reason to be sad than I do."

Innes shrugged uncomfortably, a shadow passing across his features as he looked thoughtfully down at his feet. "My father was a hero, and I'm fixin' to be just like him when I'm older," he said finally, a note of resolve entering his soft drawl as he raised his eyes to hers. Before she could respond, he returned to his earlier train of thought. "It doesn't bother you? Being away from home and all your friends?"

"Home is wherever the Cyclonian banner flies," she answered loftily, regal gravitas serving as a shield to her true feelings. The ploy seemed to work. Innes looked at her admiringly, and it seemed as if he finally remembered with whom he was speaking, because the annoying questions stopped. They walked in silence, which allowed her time to brood in peace.

Her ire at the situation was exacerbated by the fact that she had no idea how long she would be expected to remain away from Cyclonia. Would it be a week? A month? Could the Triumvirate actually win the war? That would mean permanent exile. Or worse.

No. She couldn't allow herself those thoughts. Cyclonia was superior. The Triumvirate would fall. It was only a matter of time.

But the fact remained that time spent on Hazen was time wasted. Her grandfather had been providing her with invaluable experience in the ruling of an empire. Experience she suspected she'd need sooner rather than later, that could not be gained here. She had worked too hard to let inexperience be Cyclonia's downfall. She would find a way to learn all that she needed to know. The Empire would not lack for a competent ruler. Not if she could help it.

She tried to push her doubts aside, but that only made her mind wander to the second part of Innes' question. Did it bother her to be away from her friends? She frowned. Friends were a distraction and a liability. She had a friend, once, before her father had died. She had vague memories of being inseparable from Myna, the daughter of Terra Tempesta's governor, when Imperial Council business brought them to Cyclonia.

Her grandfather had put a swift end to that after naming her as his new heir apparent. She had no time for such nonsense, he had said, and he had been right. She was far too busy to maintain friendships, busy enough that she normally never dwelled on what she was missing. Until something, or someone, reminded her. She glared at Innes, who had gotten too far ahead of her to notice. Dark Ace, on the other hand, did.

"Perhaps we should get in some training before it gets any warmer," he suggested, which did get Innes' attention.

"Reckon I could join you?" he asked, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement at the thought of receiving some training from the Dark Ace.

"Not this time," Dark Ace answered, and the boy seemed to wilt. Lark felt a stab of satisfaction at his disappointment.

Innes excused himself, and continued down the path, while Lark and Dark Ace squared off against each other. Dark Ace drew his blade, while Lark extended her staff, arming it with its crystal.

"Something's bothering you," he said, instead of attacking.

"No," she lied, aiming a blast of energy at his chest. He batted it away with a casual swing of his sword.

"Really?" He sounded skeptical. "Because if you need to talk…." He was cut off by her next attack, a downward strike meant to crack his skull. He blocked, and grinned at her. "That works, too," he said, pushing her back.

All of her anger and frustration roiled to the surface as she pressed her attack. She had made several major alterations to her staff after returning from Mire, but she made use of none of them during the fight. This wasn't about fancy moves or crystal mastery. Each inarticulate shout and wild swing was cathartic. Dark Ace calmly stood his ground, blocking each blow. She would have felt horrible, later, had she actually managed to hit him, but she never did. As efficient a fighter as he was, her uncoordinated attacks weren't a threat to him. If she had been thinking rationally, he might have had cause to worry, but she wasn't, and he knew it.

After a while, her attacks slowed, and finally stopped. She leaned on her staff, forehead pressed against the cool metal, eyes closed as she focused on her breathing.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"A little," she answered. Her arms ached from exertion, and she was tired, but she no longer felt so angry.

He said no more on the matter, for which she was grateful. Instead, he gave her a moment to pull herself back together, and then said, "I seem to recall telling you that I'd teach you how to fly when you returned from Mire. But with the war, I haven't had the opportunity to make good on that promise."

She looked up at him with a faint, anticipatory smile. "I thought we'd start tomorrow," he finished.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."