Maka had walked the killing fields for years after battle, and yet still the screams and moans of the dying shook her very bones.

Blood spattered the sticky mud underfoot, hot avian blending with cool serpiente. The stench of burnt feathers clung to Maka's mouth, refusing to be ignored to matter how many times she swallowed. The embers of a fallen lantern smoldered on a patch of nearby grass, the damp air from the previous night's rain keeping it neatly contained. Thick gouges of mud stuck in odd angles from the ground, telling the story of that early dawn battle.

From her left, a strangled cry echoed in the still dawn air. Maka took a deep, bracing breath, then moved toward the forest, her steps silent in the soft, sticky mud.

Her knees nearly buckled as she broke through the treeline. Her breath caught in her throat, escaping only as a faint cry of alarm.

Harvar Eclair lay sprawled in the crook of a thick bed of gnarled tree roots, one bloody hand grasping at one knot like he might still pull himself to standing. The empty glaze of his eyes pointed upward in one last beseeching look to the sky, their people's haven. The stormy gray clouds above stared back indifferently.

Here, now, was another of her Royal Flight gone. Another soldier, another member of her avian people, another… friend.

A vivid memory forced itself to the forefront of Maka's mind: Harvar, teaching Maka to play three-man slip, a card game he'd learned from his mother growing up. Maka had been terrible at first, losing every round, but Harvar in his endless patience had sat with her for nearly an hour until she'd won her first trick. The corners of his mouth had curled up, and even though his voice had been as steady as ever, she knew the smile for what it was.

A smile that she would never have another chance to earn. Maka slammed her eyes shut, tried to erase his death-mask from her memory, but it was no use. No longer could she see the loyal, steadfast young man who'd joined her guard nearly three years ago. All that remained was another victim in this endless, winding war.

Tension locked her jaw and boiled in her chest, begging her for a scream, a wail, any kind of release. But a hawk did not cry. She did not scream, she did not openly grieve the dead. It was a disgrace to their memory.

So Maka reeled in every last drop of emotion, every last tear, and locked it away in a steel box stored in the recesses of her mind. She could not help the heavy breath that escaped her lips, but managed to disguise it as a sigh of sorts as footsteps approached behind her.

"Take him back home," Maka ordered, her voice shaky despite her efforts. "And someone should let Ox know."

"You should come back with us when they take him." Black*Star, the captain of the most elite flight in the avian forces, stepped up to her side. Maka stole a sideways glance at him and noted the shine to his eyes and the tightness of his jaw. Harvar's death, at least, did not leave either of them entirely unaffected.

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke next, his voice was steadier. "We're almost through clearing out our soldiers. It's time to go home."

Before Maka could answer, another death-cry slipped between the nearby trees. She stepped away from the cluster of tree roots and towards the sound, but Black*Star caught her elbow. "Not that one, Albarn."

A flare of irritation had her pulling away. She had trained with Black*Star for years, had gone toe-to-toe with him on the mat, and yet still he tried to keep her from the worst of the killing, as though sparing her the sight would make the knowledge of what had happened here any easier. "Really, Black*Star?"

He stepped back hastily as she pushed past him, and though he tried to protest, Maka was too far away by the time he reached out again. "Maka, wait-"

But his warning came too late. Maka froze in her tracks as the body of the dying soldier came into view behind a thick oak. The strangled grimace of pain registered first - another of the fallen slowly slipping away. Then other details began to trickle in: white hair, like a shock of snow across the ground, a gold signet ring, and finally, piercing red eyes that, when locked into Maka's, brought an uncharacteristic wobble to her knees.

This wasn't just any soldier. This was Wes Evans, newly enthroned Diente of the serpiente people, lying on the ground in front of her.

She ought to be furious, she thought idly. The sight of Wes Evans should have whipped her into a boiling rage… but she only emotion that pulled at her in any way was exhaustion.

Her recognition seemed to be reciprocated, for as soon as Wes saw her, his throat fluttered as his cries cut off.

Maka's feet took a few tentative steps forward before she gave them the order to, and though there was a flurry of frightened activity from her guards, no one else dared to come closer to the serpiente heir.

No one, save for Maka.

At first glance, it was difficult to tell what injury caused him the most pain. Aside from an awkwardly angled limb, he seemed to be mostly intact.

Could it be a trap? whispered a cautious voice in the back of her mind. Strategically place a high-value target, apparently dying after battle, then lie in wait to see who comes looking. It wasn't a bad idea, truthfully.

But no, her Royal Flight was too well-trained to miss anyone lurking in the underbrush. If anyone was waiting in ambush, her guards would have found them well before now.

If, then, this scene was exactly as it looked, and Wes Evans was merely suffering from, while painful, entirely treatable wounds… there was only one logical step her people could take. A living serpiente soldier was a threat to her people. That was what Maka had been taught practically since birth.

She could almost see it play out in her mind: she would turn her back, walk away, and her guards would finish what the avian soldiers on that morning's battlefield could not.

Saw it, and set it aside.

Maka slid gently to her knees as she peered into the face of her enemy. His eyes fluttered open, those unnaturally red irises filled not with hate, but only pain, terror, and bone-aching despair. Though Maka was certain that Wes was older than she, he looked desperately, painfully young.

Maka's throat swelled. Was Wes responsible for how they'd found Harvar not a few dozen yards away? Was Harvar responsible for this?

Whatever the answers to those questions, Maka couldn't find it within herself to care. Serpiente lives were lesser, to kill a serpiente was a glorious act…

Maka could find no glory here. Could find no hatred, no anger.

Her head dropped as she exhaled shakily, and then she saw it: a deep, jagged knife wound in Wes' gut, slowly oozing blood with each ragged inhale he managed. It was an ugly, brutal wound, and it was certainly a fatal one.

Had Harvar looked like this as he had died? Had his last thoughts been so consumed by pain and suffering?

Maka's breath choked in her throat. She whirled on Black*Star, the only one of her guard who dared come this close. "Are you happy now?" she hissed, tears stinging her eyes. "He's in pain, and dying, and all you ever feel is hate."

She knew she would pay later for the comment, for exposing herself so thoroughly, but Maka couldn't find the energy to care. "If I were here, I'd want someone to stay with me. Until the end."

A shadow passed over Black*Star's face, but he said nothing, only kneeled by Maka's side. He made no other movement, but the gesture meant enough to Maka.

She reached out slowly, making sure not to spook Wes, and brushed hair sticky with sweat and mud out of his face. "It's alright," she soothed. "No one's going to hurt you anymore. You're safe with me."

Tears spilled from his lids, drawing clear tracks down his dirt-stained face. "Thank you," he wheezed, each word a monumental effort. His watery gaze locked onto Maka's as he said, "Kill me. Please."

Maka flinched horribly, but kept her hand on his forehead. Guilt overwhelmed her - hadn't she been thinking the exact same thing mere moments before? But hearing the plea in his voice, knowing how much pain he was in… still, it was difficult to imagine doing so.

It's easy to train to take a life, she thought. But no one could prepare for the very grim reality of it.

Wes' hand scrabbled for hers and grasped it tightly, as though sensing her hesitation. Maka's free hand drifted to her waist, where a plain hunting knife hung from her belt.

Black*Star's hand locked onto her own just as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt. He shook his head.

"He could be here for hours," Maka hissed, turning her head away.

"If you put a knife in him," he warned, "the serpiente aren't going to see it as a mercy killing, no matter how close to death he is."

They battled silently for a moment before Maka acceded. She drew her hand away but remained where she was, her fingers rubbing gently across Wes'. His rattled breathing filled the air around them, almost deafening in its harshness.

Maka and Black*Star sat with Wes for hours, even as the overhead sun burned away the morning dew and the birds in the forest finally felt safe enough to sing their songs once more. Wes' grip slackened and his breathing grew more ragged, but still Maka remained.

To cover up the sound of his suffering, and to distract him from the pain, Maka sang. It started as humming at first, then slowly grew into a melody her father Spirit had used to sing to her as a child. Maka remembered all too well the nights when her mother was too preoccupied with the duties of Tuuli Thea (which far outnumbered that nights that she wasn't), and her father would coax her underneath the blankets with the promise of a song. Maka would screw her eyes shut and picture soaring high above the clouds as Spirit's voice wove through the air.

Oh, what she would trade for just one more of those nights, when her only thoughts were of what new tome she might discover in the library, or whether she might finally be able to pin Black*Star in sparring the next day. Before her life was measured in loved ones lost, with no one to tell her why.

By the time Wes' hand went slack and his breathing still, Maka's throat was tight from singing and unshed tears. Her voice slowly faded, leaving behind an unnatural silence. She regarded Wes for a moment, taking in his wide, vacant stare. In avian culture, it was customary to to leave the eyes open after death, so that they might still see the skies that granted them so much freedom. However, Maka thought she remembered a passage she'd found once in a book long ago, of how the serpiente preferred to close the eyes of their dead, so that they would appear to be merely sleeping.

Maka hesitated briefly, then reached out, ignoring Black*Star's intake of breath as she gently shut Wes' eyelids.

She stood, and after waiting for Black*Star to do the same, followed him away from the battlefield and back to the Keep, where life would continue despite the heavy events of that morning.

She didn't look back.

Kami Albarn, Tuuli Thea of the avian people, was motionless as the funeral pyres burned before her. The wind that whipped through the mountain valleys surrounding Mourner's Rock carried away the ashes that remained, taking those they'd lost to their final resting place among the skies.

Meanwhile, those that survived could only watch, emotionless, and carry on.

When the last spark died, Kami turned to her daughter, eyes clear and voice steady. "I don't want you going out after battle again," she ordered. "You'll be queen in less than a month, but you won't get the chance if the serpiente manage to kill you before then."

"Mother-"

"This isn't a discussion, Maka," her mother said sharply. "Your people need you."

Maka recognized a lost battle when she saw one. "Yes, Mother."

Her mother had never understood Maka's approach to leadership - to her, a queen was separate from her people, leading from afar, keeping a regal distance while her soldiers carried out her will. It was a style Maka knew she could never adopt.

How could she send her people into battle if she was not willing to do the same? How could she ask her people to follow her if she never looked them in the eye when she did?

They had butted heads for years over this issue, neither willing to back down. However, Maka kept quiet this time, knowing better than to try pushing now.

Kami left not long after, shifting into her elegant hawk's form and taking to the skies, leaving Maka to stare past the cliff's edge. She stood alone, watching her mother sail among the wind currents, a half dozen ravens and crows following after.

Maka swallowed hard, again and again, forcing every emotion down deeper and deeper, until she felt she could face her people with the calm and composure they expected from her. Even as she prepared to leave, a single blue jay rose from the cliffs to her right and circled once, watching her as he'd been trained his whole life to do.

With nothing left to keep Maka there, she exchanged her human body for a feathered one. Letting out a shriek of pain, fury, and release, she shot into the sky, the rushing wind wiping away everything, leaving only the empty oblivion of the sky.

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon when Maka returned to the Hawk's Keep, which housed the remaining of the royal family, the Royal Flight, and several high-ranking avian families. The top floors were reserved for Maka and her mother, though Maka usually spent as little time there as possible. Based on the conversation they'd had earlier, however, it sounded like she was about to become much more familiar with its interior.

Fifteen feet below the first floor lay a sprawl of courtyards and training grounds, which were currently occupied with the last of that day's market. Some merchants were finishing packing away their wares, while still others lingered to gossip while there were less prying ears present.

Market days were an opportunity for local artisans and merchants to do business with the common people and for the Tuuli Thea and her heir to hear grievances, if any existed - though that had become less and less common as her mother threw herself further and further into discussions of the war.

The years of fighting had stifled the more creative, artistic side of avian society, though Maka had done her best to encourage vendors to continue attending and displaying their goods. At times, it felt like market was the one remaining place to escape from the reality of the war.

And yet still, war found its way in. Physical goods were not the only thing traded at market - rumors and gossip were passed along as readily as the wares on display. One could hardly make their way through without hearing whispers of what the serpiente might be planning or what horrors they were capable of.

Maka shifted to her hawk form and glided down into the emptying courtyard, hoping to at least make a brief appearance before turning in for the night. Her people would want to see their leader after that morning's battle, though Maka doubted her mother had visited - she would have to do.

They greeted her warmly, some only saying hello, some seeking reassurance after such a hard-fought battle. The grieving, and yet still steady-faced, mentioned those they had lost, hoping for an acknowledgment that the life of their loved one had not been given in vain. Maka gave the rote responses her mother had trained her in, ignoring the bitter taste they left on her tongue.

"Maka?" A lighter voice cut through the chatter, and Maka turned to find a familiar face behind her. Maka had known Blair since she'd been a young child, eagerly exploring the market. The young dressmaker had taken it upon herself to become Maka's guide, and had always made a point to say hello whenever Maka stopped by. Though she was more exuberant and open than avian propriety dictated, her conversation was refreshing in a way that Maka had rarely found elsewhere.

Maka greeted her with a wide smile. "Blair! I didn't expect you to be here today."

"I finally got a permit to sell here." Blair beamed. "I was running the shops' stall." She pointed to a half-assembled vendor's table not far away. When she turned back, her expression was somber. "I heard about what happened this morning. What you did for Wes Evans."

The pleasant expression slid off Maka's face. How had Blair heard? She'd thought they'd been alone. Well, it didn't matter - the damage was done. The only thing to do now was to figure out how to handle the fallout. "Blair, I-"

Blair shook her head. "No, I only wanted to - when I heard, I felt this… hope, I suppose is the right word. That maybe there could be more to us than war. Someday." She offered a soft smile.

Maka tried to return it, but knew she wasn't entirely successful. "Thank you, Blair." She didn't say what she wanted to - that offering a dying man some measure of solace was a far cry from peace.

They bid farewell. Black*Star, sensing Maka's exhaustion, moved closer to her side, unconsciously dissuading anyone else from approaching. They flew to the upper levels of the Keep where they separated: Black*Star to the Royal Flight quarters, Maka farther up to her own rooms.

As she prepared for bed, she sent a silent prayer to the skies that she might find a way to prevent a morning like the previous from ever happening again, yet feeling hopelessly like it would forever go unanswered.

Maka dreamt of fire and blood.

Her breath came in spurts, her chest burning in terror and exertion. She had only wanted to help, and yet…

And yet.

The only light came from scattered fires burning across the fields, illuminating shadowy figures locked in battle. One caught sight of her and lunged - Maka tried to dodge, but it seized upon her arm-

"Maka!" Black*Star's voice cut through the haze of fear, and for a few moments, everything became clear. "Come on, we've got to go!"

It spoke to how shaken Maka was that she didn't argue at all, but only grasped the hand wrapped around her arm tightly and nodded.

She'd made a terrible mistake that night.

Black*Star led her through the fields, shielding her with his body, stopping and starting as needed to try and keep her out of sight. A cry of pain cut through the cacophony, startling Maka from her stupor. "That's-"

"Come on, Maka, let's go!"

But she had already slipped from his grasp. She ran full-tilt towards the sound, bile creeping up her throat in anticipation…

"No, Maka, wait!"

The taste of blood in the air, the stench of death…

No. She didn't need to see this…

Not again-

Her throat tightened, just barely containing her screams.

"Maka, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open to find Black*Star standing over her, hand on the hilt strapped to his hip. His hair and clothes were disheveled - clearly her nightmare had pulled him from sleep as well.

"I'm alright," she said thickly, rubbing the grit from her eyes.

"Nightmare?" The look he gave said he knew exactly what she'd been dreaming about.

"It's fine," she insisted, and though Black*Star didn't look convinced, he let the matter drop.

"Well, since you're up," he said, moving his hand from his side, "We're about to starting training. Want to join?"

Maka pushed aside the blankets and swung her legs over the side, her head clearing at the prospect of sparring. "Want to get your ass kicked?"

Black*Star barked out a laugh. "Keep dreaming, Albarn."

It was quick work to dress in the light, flowing clothes favored by the Royal Flight during sparring sessions, and soon she was gliding downstairs to the training grounds below the Keep. Most of the Royal Flight was already gathered, some paired off to spar, others gathered around more experienced officers as they demonstrated different moves.

Maka passed them all and headed for Black*Star, who was bouncing eagerly on his feet and shaking out his arms in confident motions. "Last chance to back down," he taunted, tilting his head towards one of the groups learning from the head of her mother's guard, and coincidentally, Black*Star's adopted father. "I'm sure Sid wouldn't mind another student."

Maka stretched her arms out, shooting Black*Star a grin. She'd forgotten how good he was at chasing away the malaise of a nightmare. "You're trying awfully hard to get me to leave," she pointed out. "Sounds a little bit like you're scared."

"You wish," Black*Star said, then launched off the balls of his feet as he aimed a surprise jab at her jaw. Maka twirled to the right, accustomed as she was to his sudden starts. He claimed it was to teach her to anticipate an attack at any moment, but she knew he got some gleeful enjoyment out of catching his opponent off-guard.

After that, it was a simple matter of slipping into a skin she knew well, one she'd worked for years to hone. All avian heirs were trained in the art of self-defense, as all high-value targets should. Her mother, too, had trained with the guard in her years as heir, before she took the title of Tuuli Thea. She'd never seen her mother take to the sparring mats, but heard from some of the old guard about how formidable she could be. However, she'd given up the practice of regular training once she'd ascended the throne, and though her mother had never directly mentioned it, Maka knew she expected the same of her heir.

But Maka couldn't see herself giving this up. She even sometimes wished that she hadn't been born into this title, that she could be free to join the Royal Flight as a simple guard, that she was allowed the hours and days and years they were to develop her skills the way she wished to. Nothing thrilled her more than narrowly doding a well-thrown punch, or striking true against a worthy opponent. Black*Star, more than the other soldiers, seemed to understand this, and often volunteered as her training partner. While other guards might have felt pressured to hold back when fighting their future queen, Black*Star never had such qualms.

Even now, he moved with a quickness that was near impossible to match. Despite his muscular build, he'd never let himself slack off where agility and speed was concerned. It was how he'd heard his place as captain of the Royal Flight, after all.

Black*Star's story was not a novel one amongst avians, and yet he'd seized hold of it and molded it into something more. He'd been found as a babe on the brink of death near the outskirts of their lands, the only survivor of a serpiente slaughter. With no home or family to call his home, Sid, the captain of her mother's guard, and his partner Nygus had agreed to take him in. Black*Star had grown up with the guard, raised amongst the soldiers as though he'd never originated anywhere else. He and Maka had drifted together naturally, as he was the only child her age raised in the Keep.

As they'd grown older, he'd announced loudly his intention to head her guard. No one had ever said so to his face, but most had laughed to hear it. The Royal Flight consisted mainly of ravens and crows, as they had proven time and time again to be better scouts and aerial soldiers. Few other species had demonstrated what it took to join, and a blue jay had never been among the exceptions.

While most might have been discouraged by this, Black*Star had taken it as a challenge, one he rose quite admirably to meet. Two years ago, to almost everyone's surprise but no one's protest, Black*Star had been named captain of the Royal Flight. It was a position that, despite his loud and exuberant personality, he took quite seriously. While her mother disapproved of Maka training so hard, Black*Star instead encouraged it.

On days such as this, he would invite her to spar with the guard in order to keep up her skills and pick up new ones, though the latter had significantly decreased as the years had passed. Maka could best quite a few of her guard if she needed to, and had over time.

Black*Star, however, was still a challenging opponent.

He dropped into a crouch and spun, lashing one leg out in an attempt to catch hers and send her crashing to the ground. Maka, familiar with his tactics, jumped backwards, keeping light on the balls of her feet, and before Black*Star could straighten up, aimed a kick at the small of his back.

He huffed a small breath of air as she connected, but aside from a mild stutter-step, didn't yield. Twisting away, he caught her ankle firmly, holding her foot solidly against his chest to deny her any leverage.

But instead of using his advantage, something behind Maka caught his eye, and he stilled. Maka dropped her own fists as she noticed the somber look on his face. At her silent question, he murmured, "Ox is here."

A great swell of pity grew in Maka's chest. Ox was Harvar's partner in the guard - they'd been paired up for training when they'd both entered into the Royal Flight, and had been quite the team ever since. She hadn't seen Ox since Harvar's death yesterday, and braced herself for the meeting about to take place… if only Black*Star would disengage so she could.

She wiggled her toes against his chest and nudged him with her heel. "If I may…?"

Black*Star grinned and let go, dropping her leg to the ground. "Rematch later?" he asked quietly as she brushed the sweaty strands of hair out of her face.

"Of course," she replied, and after wiping her face off with her sleeve, turned to greet Ox.

Ox looked about as well as could be expected, which was to say, not well at all. His eyes had that glazed, dull look to them that Maka had seen all too many times before, and his skin carried a pallor that, if Maka didn't know better, would suggest an illness rather than the grief he was truly experiencing.

"Ox," she said, and though she wished to reach out and touch his arm, to provide any kind of comforting gesture, she knew it would be frowned upon. Her arms remained at her side. "Please accept my condolences for your loss."

Even as he struggled with his grief, Maka saw him take desperate hold of the raging emotion inside him and leash it, settling his expression into something more somber than devastated. It broke her heart to watch, but even she kept her feelings hidden, as was expected from the both of them. "Thank you, Maka," he said, his voice steady. "Harvar died in battle, so his life wasn't lost in vain."

Rather it hadn't been lost at all, Maka thought, but kept silent.

"I had considered this possibility before," Ox continued, his calmness almost eerie. "Given our positions in the guard, I knew there was a good chance one of us would not survive this war." He paused, swallowed. "I only ask what you're considering in retaliation, and hope that you may utilize my services in the future."

Retaliation? Maka could only stare at him blankly. They were still tallying the dead, counting their losses, and Ox wanted to retaliate? Though, she supposed she couldn't blame him for that. Retaliation was all this war boiled down to anyway. The serpiente attack, the avians take their revenge, the serpiente pay back in kind. And endless back and forth with no beginning or end.

That, she understood. Ox, taking in her confused look, elaborated on the second point. "I only mean… I've been studying the serpiente, you see. Trying to understand how they work, how they think, so we might plan attacks more optimally designed to reduce their numbers while maintaining our own. Did you know our life expectancies drop lower and lower with every six months that pass?"

She didn't know the numbers, but could imagine that scenario was very likely true.

Ox continued. "Please, just consider my offer. I want to end this war as badly as you do."

Yes, Maka supposed that was true as well. No one here enjoyed the realities of war, only bore it with an unrivaled stoicism. "Thank you for your offer," Maka said. "I will consider it and let you know if we do decide to consult you. In the meantime, my mother and I will discuss our options."

"What are we discussing?" Her mother's voice rang clearly through the crisp, cool air of the courtyard, cutting through the chatter of the guards around her. Everyone snapped to attention save for Maka, who only nodded to her mother in greeting.

"Ox here was only asking if we planned to retaliate for yesterday morning's attack. I was merely telling him that we would be discussing our options."

Kami nodded her approval. "And so we will. Come with me." She turned and swept out of the courtyard, not bothering to check if Maka was following.

With no time to acknowledge the other, save for a hurried wink from Black*Star, Maka hurried after. She wiped the slate of her mind clean, so that when she caught up with her mother, her face was utterly blank.

Kami was silent as they ascended the Keep. She ushered Maka into one of the many sitting rooms within her suite (soon to be Maka's, though she didn't dwell on it), then closed the door behind her. The distinct shift of leather and metal sounded after, telling them a guard had taken his place.

But instead of delving into battle plans and troop numbers, her mother merely regarded her for a brief moment. Something in Maka itched at the scrutiny, but she forced herself to keep still and quiet. Kami would speak her mind sooner or later.

Sooner, as it turned out. "Have you made a decision regarding your alistair?"

Maka blinked, her only outward sign of surprise. Her mother wanted to talk about this? Now?

Kami must still have been able to read her daughter, because she said, "Your crowning ceremony is fast approaching. The Tuuli Thea typically announces her alistair then, so it would be wise to have someone in mind before then." Kami paused. "I know you and Black*Star are close, and as he's the captain of your guard, he would be a sensible choice."

Maka knew this, and knew that others knew it. A consequence of her position, she supposed. Any and every close friendship was scrutinized, analyzed, turned over and over in consideration of the benefits and detriments. It made logical sense, really. Black*Star knew her better than anyone, and was steadfastly loyal. He would make a fine pair bond and alistair.

It would be even better if Maka felt anything more than a deep friendship for him.

She'd been preparing for this for years, knowing that she would have to pick an alistair that she likely did not love, and yet hearing of the looming reality was like a blow to the chest. In less than a month, Maka would have to pick someone to spend the rest of her life with. Someone to produce children with.

Realistically, she knew that the chances of finding a pair bond rooted in love were rare, and most were picked based on status or simple fondness. But even still, Maka had hoped deep down that she might prove the exception to the rule.

"I've been giving the matter some thought," she answered slowly, not quite looking her mother in the eye. "Considering my choices to try and find the ideal one."

Kami met her gaze not unsympathetically. "I know this choice is difficult. It will not be the only one you will have to make as Tuuli Thea. Just remember, you have been preparing for this. I would not hand down the title if I didn't think you were ready for it."

A lump grew in Maka's throat, one that took a few tries to dislodge. Despite their disagreements and her mother's crushing expectations, hearing those words from her was fortifying in a way few other things were. Still, it was almost impossible to imagine Kami without the weight of Tuuli Thea behind her, to picture where she would bow to Maka just as Maka bowed to her now.

How could she possibly take over this mantle her mother had carried for so long?

Maka opened her mouth - to say what, she didn't know - but before she could speak, a quick rap at the door interrupted them. "Enter!" Kami called.

Black*Star slipped inside, his guard's uniform back in place. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's someone here to see you both."

Maka looked to her mother, but Kami frowned. Clearly, she wasn't expecting anyone. "Who?"

Black*Star hesitated. The look on his face had Maka's gut twisting in anticipation. "It's Camille Evans. She's asking for an audience."

Even Kami had to work hard to school her shock. Camille Evans was the daughter of Ira Evans' first wife, and the half-sister of Wes and Soul Evans. Not a serpiente heir, but still royalty. That she had ventured into the heart of their territory… Maka couldn't fathom.

"You're sure?" Kami asked. "It's Camille?"

Black*Star stepped back, opening the door fully. "She's in the courtyard now. No weapons - only says that she has a message from her brother."

Soul - the last Evans left, and now the sole heir to the serpiente throne.

Maka and Kami shared a charged look, then followed Black*Star down through the winding corridors of the Keep. Anxiety curled deep in Maka's stomach, tightening every joint with every step she took. What message could Camille have for them? Coming so far, stepping right inside the Keep of all places… what message could possibly be so important that it had to be delivered in person?

They reached the main courtyard and sure enough, Camille Evans stood in the center in all her stately glory, looking calm despite the vast numbers of guards surrounding the perimeter. She was dressed in a simple black dress, her pale hair tied back and away from her aristocratic face. Her hand rested lightly on her belly, which was swollen with child.

The sight was a split-second, jolting reminder of the serpiente's humanity. They were so detached from their enemy, sometimes one forgot they did things as simple as carry children, just as avians did.

Though Kami was likely feeling the same blend of wariness and confusion as her daughter, she let none of it show as she asked, "Why are you here, Camille?"

"As I told your captain," Camille said softly, "I'm here to pass a message along from my half-brother, Soul, who is Diente now after the death of our brother."

"And that is?"

"Peace." Camille rubbed one hand in slow, steady circles across her stomach, whether as an unconscious gesture or to purposely remind them that she was pregnant and likely less of a threat, Maka couldn't tell. "We have fought for so long, and have both lost so much already. Is it not worth considering another way? To consider peace?"

"What do you propose?" Maka slid her mother a sideways look, but as always, there was nothing to be learned there.

"We've talked with the Mistari. They're willing to shelter representatives from both our peoples and mediate talks while we explore our options. If you are willing to consider this, we'll be there in three days time. That's all I've come to say."

Kami was silent for such a long time, Maka wondered if she was ever going to give Camille a response. "Your message has been received," she said finally. "We will think on your offer."

There was a flicker of… something on Camille's face, but it disappeared before Maka could catch it. "That's all we ask. If I may, I will take my leave to return to my people and prepare."

Kami nodded, and Camille was quickly escorted from the courtyard by an armed guard. For the second time that day, Kami abruptly left the courtyard, shifting into her hawk form to ascend into the keep. Maka hurried after, mind buzzing with everything she'd just heard. Her first instinct was to dismiss Camille's claims of wanting peace out of hand, but it had taken an extraordinary leap of faith for Camille to present herself, unarmed, into the Keep. And all she had asked for was a meeting with the Mistari Disa in neutral lands, where any kind of attack would be akin to suicide.

Kami didn't stop until they were back in her suite of rooms where they'd stood not fifteen minutes earlier. Maka almost wanted to laugh at how quickly things had changed.

"What do you think?" Kami asked, bracing her hands on the back of an armchair.

Maka started, unused to being asked for her opinion before her mother had given hers. Kami noticed the gesture and added, "You'll be Tuuli Thea soon, Maka. It's time you started taking the lead in matters like this."

Maka nodded, but didn't reply right away. She reviewed Camille's words again, examining them with a careful eye. "I don't know if they're genuine about wanting peace, especially considering the losses they incurred yesterday." She forcefully shut out the image of a dying Wes Evans. "But a meeting with the Mistari Disa is relatively low-risk. If nothing else, we might be able to glean something about what they're really thinking." She paused. "But if there's any chance at all that we could find a way to end the fighting, we have to take it."

Kami considered Maka's thoughts, nodding slowly. "I agree. I don't trust them, but in neutral lands, we don't lose anything by going." She straightened, a hard gleam in her eye. "Well then, we'd better start preparing. We leave in three days."