The little bee returns with evening's gloom,

To join her comrades in the braided hive,

Where, housed beside their mighty honeycomb,

They dream their polity shall long survive.

-Charles Tennyson Turner

Chapter 1 - Nox

The water rocked calmly, the feel of its sway could barely be felt upon the timbers of the monstrous ship that held itself proudly upon its surface. The ocean waters at this time of night would normally have reflected nothing but the bejeweled majesty of the starry heavens up above. The world—a mirrored celestial wonder for those seafarers awake and aware enough to observe it and appreciate its beauty.

Edward "Whitebeard" Newgate had seen such sights countless times upon his many voyages out upon the seas. He counted it a blessing that no matter the hardships and darkness he had faced in his long lifetime, he still was able to behold such a magnificent sight with the wonder of a child. The world was so much bigger than it seemed in the harsh light of day.

And yet…no such wondrous sight would greet him tonight.

Hazing, thick billowing clouds of smoke, ash, and tinder hid the stars this night. The tantalizing glow of flames danced across the sky and sea. The outline of the forested trees and mountains of the nearby coastline stood in stark contrast to the blaze that was so large it could be seen for countless miles. He sat upon the deck and watched the sight with troubled eyes. While his outer countenance held the same stalwart calm his crew—his children—expected and looked for from him, inside, his heart was heavy with grief and anguish. He waited with dreaded anticipation for what he knew could only be tragic news about what had happened on this particular island. The home of one he had considered to be, a very good friend...

Members of his crew also stood by on the deck in anticipation. They could feel the heaviness in the air, and could only wait. Not knowing quite why the old giant had pushed the ship hard in order to reach this small island within the Wild Waters of the New World. Having received a quiet communique from one of his many government contacts, Whitebeard had not spoken of what it had said except to a few commanders, only ordering them to go full speed towards a new heading.

And even having pushed hard throughout the night, it looked as if they had come far too late to prevent whatever tragedy had befallen the isle this night. A raptor's scream cut through the night sky and this time a new, but much more familiar fire's reflection glittered and danced across the waters. A gigantic, magnificent bird of prey, whose feathers were made of blue and gold flame, circled the sky a few times, leaving blazing trails before descending onto the upper deck close to the foot of Whitebeard's chair.

The bird, a rare phoenix, looked at the man calmly for a moment before the fiery feathers and talons receded into flesh, and limbs elongated into human legs and arms. In mere seconds, what had once been an animal, now resembled a human man for the most part. The eyes still held an unnatural golden glint that alluded to the true predator that lurked just below the surface, but it was nothing that Edward was unfamiliar with. In fact, he was rather fond of his son's eyes.

The phoenix, known to all only as Marco, leaned against the balustrade as he addressed the old giant, his stance calm and casual even with the horror of what he had seen still in his mind's eye.

"There was nothing there, Pops."

Edward closed his eyes in regret at the damning words. "No one left at all?"

Marco looked out to the water, the fire looking to have no interest in receding. "The humans did their dirty work. It seems like there were buildings there at one time, but it looked like a bomb had gone off, yoi...several in fact. The entire mountainside fell and buried everything. The forest will be nothing but kindling by morning."

Marco was silent for a moment, and his captain didn't interrupt, keeping his own darkening thoughts as he waited for his second-in-command to continue his report.

"There were bodies, Pops. I could smell them even when I couldn't see them. Fire was just so hot, it was hard to distinguish much."

The blond closed his eyes to try to block out those barely seen images. "Mostly male, but some female...even some chicks, yoi."

The disgust and hatred in the man's voice intensified, before going back to his usual calm tones, "I'm sorry, Pops, but I didn't see any sign of survivors."

Whitebeard closed his eyes in despair at the confirmation of what he'd already suspected. "There was nothing you could have done, my son. We came too late and the Authority dogs are as thorough as ever. You did well. Go rest, and tell the rest of the crew, we'll depart by morning." Just in case…

The unspoken words were heard clearly by the younger blond, even as he nodded and headed below.

He didn't have far to go before he was faced by a familiar pompadoured head stepping into his path. "Sooo?"

Marco easily sidestepped his brother as he continued on his way, but that didn't stop the young male elf from following him. "Come on Marco, can't you tell me what's going on? I mean, we travel all night to get here, only to find the whole place has gone up in smoke!"

A sharp voice interrupted, "Can't you leave him alone for one minute, let him breathe."

A young male dressed in a dark blue kimono pushed the other away and Marco kept on his path down the hall without a word. He could easily hear the two follow him. He didn't mind, but he wasn't in the mood for hallway chatter.

Walking to the galley, Marco got himself a cup of coffee—straight black. He wished he could have had something stronger, but his kind didn't do well with alcohol so late into the night. As he lowered himself onto a bench, he nursed his drink, allowing the smell of the beverage to combat the stench of smoke and flesh that he was trying his best to forget.

His two fellow commanders had joined him at the table, but neither spoke even though it looked like it pained them not to just vomit up all the questions that they barely kept a lid on. He didn't look directly at them. And even if he did, he wasn't sure if he would actually see them.

After a few moments of winding down, he spoke softly, still keeping his eyes averted. "It was a hive, yoi."

Thatch, the auburn-haired elven cook, looked at him in confusion. "A hive? What, like a beehive?!"

Izo, a delicate-looking male fae, looked over at the other in annoyance, "Of course it wasn't a beehive, you nitwit. Seriously, Thatch? You think we rushed over here for freaking bees?"

"Well, he said 'hive'!"

Rolling his eyes, Izo looked back at Marco. "The Ptera?"

Marco nodded and continued to sip his coffee quietly.

Thatch's eyes widened, "You mean the Terrors? The bee people?"

This time the annoyed look was accompanied by a smack to the back of the head. "Ow! What did ya hit me for?"

"It's Ptera. And they're not bees, Thatch. You're as bad as the humans!"

The fae sighed in hopelessness before turning to the other, "Marco...it was him, wasn't it? Is he…?"

The phoenix nodded sadly, "Probably."

Before the other could even ask, Izo explained. "It was some years before you joined, Thatch. We came to this area looking to resupply. We didn't know these islands were home to not only a Pteran hive, but the strongest hive of them all."

Thatch's eyes went round in shock, "The D Clan? This was their home?"

Izo nodded, a grief-stricken look developing in his eyes as the realization of why Pops had been in such a hurry after receiving that secret communique.

Marco continued from where he left off, rolling his mug between his hands. "It was completely by chance, yoi. We didn't mean to invade their territory uninvited. But you can guess how the Ptera took the sudden presence of outsiders coming into their borders. The tales of their territorial nature are not at all exaggerated. We almost didn't make it. That wasn't until the top Pteran warrior of the D hive, the one they called the "Warrior King" stepped forward."

The phoenix could still easily picture the male, sword in hand, fire swirling around him, black eyes that glittered with laughter, and a huge, wide smile that spoke of both delight and danger, all in one glance.

"He was so strong that he was more than matching Pops blow for blow."

The elf's eyes were about to pop out of his skull. "What?! You have to be kidding! No one can beat Pops!"

But Marco shook his head and continued. "You'd have to have seen his power to really understand the strength he was capable of, yoi. But throughout the fight, his eyes were searching us, sizing us up. I guess he found what he was looking for because he decided to take a chance and hear Pops out."

Izo got up and got a mug for himself, but unlike the ornithologic shapeshifter, he filled it with much stronger stuff.

"The two became fast friends and we were given permission to not only resupply but were actually welcomed to come back anytime. I don't have to tell you how unheard of that is."

Thatch just shook his head in despair at all he had missed. "Seriously? A real Pteran? They practically never come out of their dens! I've never even seen one before! I've only heard stories about them."

The Ptera were one of the most secretive people in the world! If he could have gotten the chance to meet just one, his bragging rights would be set for life!

"Wai-Wait a minute...are you saying there was a Ptera hive on that burning island?!"

"Yes, yoi."

"B-But if that's so, what are we waiting for?! We have to help them!"

"..."

Thatch looked back and forth in expectation between his two brothers who did nothing but stare back at him, and yet their gaze didn't quite meet. After a second, the damning silence gave him all the answers he needed and the countenance on his face dropped into stricken shock, "You can't mean…...not the Ds...all of them?"

The phoenix looked down into his coffee cup, the taste acrid on his tongue, his voice a whisper, "We'll wait until morning just to make sure...but survivors seem unlikely."

The younger elf looked at him with wide eyes. He must have finally gotten an idea of the truth from his gaze because his countenance crumbled. Getting up, he couldn't seem to settle, getting up and walking away and walking back, pacing back and forth before angrily swearing in elvish before switching back to the common tongue.

"Will the humans not be satisfied until they've destroyed everything they touch!" He kicked a stool across the galley in rage.

Izo drank deeply from his cup, feeling the burn running down his throat. "It's not 'humans' Thatch. You know that. It's the Authority that wants to appropriate or destroy anything they find to be a threat."

Marco looked down at the black liquid in his mug. Images from the past and present melding, scenes of the past that he wished could remain in the back of his thoughts under lock and key. It wasn't like he hadn't seen tragedies like this before. It was sadly all too familiar, the greedy destructive damage and despair and death that occurred every time the World Authority struck in order to prune a supposed "threat to the security of the world". But perhaps it was because it had been his people, the enemy turned friend that had garnered their respect. A warm, dangerous grin flashed within his mind's eye, a shock of red hair, wild crimson hibiscus flowers, ravenous flames...

With a loud crack, the vessel in his hand shattered; hot, brown liquid streaming down the talons erupting from his fingers. His brothers came to his aid, but he could barely feel it, his mind still back on that land of lost souls.

That same night, on a ship miles away heading to the south, deep within its bowels of perpetual darkness. Without the light of fires or bodies for warmth, the cold of the ocean waters and the sting of the frigid winds seeped their way into the dreary, unlit depths. The shadows played among the dust and mildew, the slight outline of iron bars just barely seen within the gloom. Among the sound of metal clunking and creaking against the mildewed soggy wood, an unmistakable, distinct sound could be clearly heard.

An infant's cry shrieked loudly, echoing in the murk asking for anyone at all to come to his side.

He didn't like it here.

He didn't like the dark. He didn't like being alone. Where was everyone? Where was his Da? Where was his Grand-Da? Why wasn't anyone coming? He had been calling them for so long his little lungs hurt and were trembling and his thin clothing was completely soaked in tears. He was hungry and thirsty and scared and wanted to be picked up and he was so, so lonely.

The intense sound would have normally sent several to the child's side in an effort to immediately comfort and console and reassure. To tell the young one that he was not alone. But on this desolate, comfortless ship, no such response was forthcoming. The young one's wails continued woefully, unheard and unheeded, while in the upper decks, off-duty soldiers slept somewhat peacefully, never hearing the shrieking cries. Those on duty had long ago learned not to care.

Miles to the east of the great fire in the valley, two figures were slowly shambling their way among the cliff trails. One was a large male who looked to be nearing the end of his middle-age years, his blond hair streaked with gray and fine lines beginning to show themselves upon his face. He limped forward as best as he could, considering the bloody gashes and burns covering his body. A large stab wound on his side was sluggishly oozing hot crimson liquid down his abdomen and leg.

He made no effort to staunch the bleeding, both of his hands too full to bother. In his left, a sword continued to sit unwaveringly in his experienced grip, ready to act at any moment in the presence of a threat. Its silver edge was already quite stained, bits of viscera falling off its point onto the sharp rocks.

In his right arm, he was pretty much outright carrying the other figure along at his side. The other male was much shorter and younger than he was—and in far worse shape.

Long gashes ran down across his left eye, the blood was still flowing profusely, turning one-half of his face red. It would be a miracle if the boy would still have his sight.

His body was decorated in a litany of wounds, all of which had the potential for infection. However, the one that worried the older male the most was the blood dripping from the soaked makeshift bandage held on by a hastily made tourniquet, around a left arm that was nearly completely missing.

He was glad the kid was out of it, having passed out into feverish incoherence a while ago, mumbling words and calling out names that made him wince with regret.

He continued to speak to the kid to try to keep him from falling into further shock, and yet to keep moving forward away from their pursuers. They had escaped for now, but it wouldn't take long for the human dogs to pick up the blood trail once again.

He continued on forward, maneuvering through foliage and jagged, coarse footing. Being the wee hours of the morning, if not for the blaze of the inferno to their backs, it would have been pitch black. But that wouldn't have mattered to him. He knew these forests and mountains quite intimately. It was his home…

Had been his home.

"Come on, kid. Stay with me a little longer. I'll get you some help when we get back to the others." He shifted his grip and continued to push onward. Louder moans came as he tried to shift the kid closer. Red hair turned even darker from all blood, fell into the boy's face shadowing his features.

"Be strong Shanks. You've done well so far."

He glanced briefly at the empty scabbard on the boy's side, his sword lost in the battle melee along with the kid's arm. The nymph had fought bravely. Roger would've been proud.

At that thought, a sharp pain throbbed from within his chest and he resolutely turned away from it, concentrating on the path in front of him, the physical pain of his injuries a distraction from what was still much too soon to deal with now. The wind picked up as he neared the edge of the path and could hear the everlasting sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks.

The steep cliff face of the headland jutted out slightly, and underneath was a cavern of caves where they had harbored their ships for long-distance travel and emergencies. He prayed the Authority hadn't found out about this part of their backup plans.

The closer to the ocean he came, the more the winds picked up and he had to brace himself against the outcrop. However, with it, the smell of smoke began to hit him thanks to the wind and he swore loudly.

Placing his young charge gently on the ground against a nearby tree, he hurriedly hobbled to the tops of the cavern and looked down. What had once been a series of piers and ships large and small, was now largely empty. Wooden planks and rope and other flotsam swirled around in the waters telling a story of what had occurred. Remnants of the berths had been destroyed with powerful concussive forces. What appeared to be strategically placed explosions had made them and any remaining vessels that had been docked there useless.

To the untrained eye, one could assume that their enemy had destroyed their only means of escape. It made sense, the World Authority couldn't allow any possible chance for rebellion to survive.

But his eyes were anything but untrained, he knew his brother's handiwork. No clumsy explosives could have done such a precise job.

He gave a small smile and breathed a breath of relief. The destruction at first glance looked to be chaotic and complete, the debris being carried off by the waves in the ebony ocean depths. And yet— if one were to look closer they would see that while close to the island there was nothing but destruction, about a mile out, a trail of increasingly larger pieces of wood led to a few small intact boats which sat floating innocently on the waves. They were unmoored and being carried away by the waters, no human could possibly access them from the island. How they even stayed in place as long as they had, would have had them completely perplexed. But none of them knew Dragon's skill, and for those of the Clan of D? The distance was nothing but a slight jaunt.

Walking back to his young wounded charge, he glanced over him. Brushing the blood away from his newly scarred face, he felt the feverish heat emanating from the nymph's sticky skin.

He knew he was little better himself, but he'd already let Roger down enough as it was. He'd be damned if he let those filthy bastards take anything more from him.

Sensing no immediate threat in the vicinity, with a single quick flourish, he placed his weapon back in its sheath before carefully, hauling the boy's uninjured arm over his shoulder and holding his unconscious form close. "Come on kid. Only a little longer."

Releasing the clasp from around his neck, the remains of his destroyed cloak fell to the ground. Rolling the blades of his shoulders, a pair of immense, sleek, dark-silver wings, almost identical in color to the gray steel of firearms, unfurled from behind his back.

While taking the shape and form similar to that of the wings of a bird of prey, not a feather dotted their surface. Composed instead of bones, membranes, and chitin scales, they were more insectoid in their make-up. Discreet veins make their way throughout the membranes until hitting the edges of the primary and secondary wingtips.

Stretching them out in their full wingspan, he gripped his charge closer. "It's been a long time since I took you flying, kid. You're a lot bigger now."

The redheaded boy was still out of it, but his fevered cries, for a moment changed from indistinguishable moans to faint, distressed words. "R-Roger…Rouge...A-Ace….Rayleigh! I have to get Ace…"

Grimacing, the older man closed his eyes and couldn't stand to look at the pleading teen, his hand once again closing into a trembling fist. Pain blossomed fiercely once again in his chest and he knew that the hollowness and agony wouldn't go away from either of them anytime soon. It was actually a blessing that Shanks would still be blissfully unaware for a little while longer.

"It...it's too late to do anything for them right now, kid."

Pushing his roiling emotions aside, Rayleigh S. of the Clan of D casually checked the wind, making sure his hold on the redhead was secure, before running headlong off the cliff's edge.

With expert ease, the warrior's wings pushed him high into the air, only a faint tremble to his torso and limbs showed evidence of the blood loss and injuries he had sustained. Shanks' body intuitively curled around the older man, his natural instincts knowing how to grasp onto the man for support without impeding his ability to fly.

Keeping his eyes on his target, Rayleigh neither looked back at the fiery destruction of his home—the burial place of so many of his brothers—nor at the brave, young nymph in his arms who so easily could have been among their fallen number. He instead just pushed forward, powered mostly by determination and adrenaline—and a desire for vengeance.

He whispered aloud, this time more for himself than the boy. "It's too late to do anything right now…"

This was a night his kin and clan would never forget…

Nor forgive…

Long after the two Ptera had escaped the island in the night, and a day after the great Moby Dick had sailed off in solemn despondency, finding no evidence of survivors and government presence becoming too hot for comfort; the fires that had consumed the forest and valleys of the island had begun to calm. In a small grove near a cliff face to the south, the flames had ravaged the area mercilessly. Great trees now dead had fallen over, their blackened charcoaled husks littering the bare forest floor and rocky terrain. Some had even collapsed upon themselves, mostly ash.

Under one such collapsed tree, a small gasp of air broke through the unnatural silence. Slight movement followed, and a small hand dug from beneath the burnt wood before hurriedly pushing the trunk to the side in panic.

The figure revealed was a young wide-eyed child. Gasping for breath, the boy looked around in alarm, eyes looking everywhere at once trying to get a grasp on where he was and if there were any dangers nearby. Calming down once he was able to quickly determine he was safe for the time being, he was able to take stock of where he was in an attempt to remember what had happened.

He froze.

Everything came back in an instant.

A strangled gasp escaped his smoke-ravaged throat, and he hurriedly reached inside of himself for that warm tangled weave of connections that had always been there; a constant companion that had connected him to those he loved most since birth.

But nothing but a torn, gaping hole remained where he had once felt their presence so intimately before.

They were gone.

He collapsed onto his hands and knees, unbidden tears welling in his eyes.

His kin, his siblings, his uncles and aunts, his mother and his father...his home…

It was all gone.

And it was all his fault.

The cries became inconsolable sobs, the tears combining with the ash that covered his normally ever-present freckles, creating gray streaks that covered his pale skin. These got smudged as he covered his face with his hands, the boy's small attempt at self-comfort. But of course, that didn't work in the least. Nothing could console the pain and loneliness and utter anguish he felt. Nothing could cover up the stench of the smoke, ash, and burnt flesh. Nothing could soothe the unbearable guilt that was beginning to overwhelm him.

He barely could take stock of the fact that since he had been knocked unconscious that horrible night, translucent markings had now appeared on his skin, his arms, and calves. On his back, a pair of small wings breached his back. They began as ebony in color before fading to steel gray, orange spots dotted the surface where the bones branched out from his back and formed the frame, the color of the edges was like they were dipped in blood, crimson in color, brightest at their very tips. Fragile and newly grown, they still had a wrinkled gloss to them, unfurling for the first time like the new petals of a rose. They began to peek out from underneath the dirty and torn shirt, straining the material.

It was a rite of passage the boy had been forced into, through shock, terror, and trauma, his body unknowingly and prematurely went through the metamorphosis. It marked his first step from the child he had once been, to the adult he would become. It was an event that most young of his kind were ever so excited to achieve. One that his clan would have celebrated with fervor!

Any joy that he would have found in the change, was gobbled up by the realization of the new reality he had woken up to.

That there was no one to celebrate such an event with.

That instead of being greeted with hugs and congratulations...his father's lavish laughter and look of pride...his mother's embrace and caress..his brother picking him up and carrying him around on his shoulders…

Instead, that horrible, deafening silence was the only thing to acknowledge the occasion, or even his very existence. The forest of what had once been his home was so unfamiliar to him now.

The fire had not just taken life as it ravaged the land...it had also left behind a cloud of smoke that held over everything, leaving a crushing, overwhelming presence of utter desolation.

And Ace of the Clan of D could not seem to see past its haze.

A/N: Okay, I've been holding onto this one for a while as I wanted to push my other two stories along a little further, but I decided I can try to squeeze a 3rd in there.?

This is actually the 1st of the One Piece stories I wrote and put together. Unlike Water Lily and Liberte, this one takes place in not simply an alternative OP world, but this is a separate fantasy AU. Because of that, certain things from the usual canon will be changed, also all names will be in the western format. (Ex. Edward is now WB's first name, not his last)

One thing I wanted to explore here was: What if all the D Clan members were related? An actual clan? And the story sprouted from there. We'll have many classic fantasy races, though the Ptera are my own creation, so you'll have to find out more about them as we go. Many of the characters are non-human, though the World (Government) Authority has decided to say that humans are superior to all other races. And you can see where everything would fall from there.

I am also trying out some new plot ideas here as I've decided to begin writing my own novel, and this will be a sort of testing ground for some of that! I'm interested in your thoughts and comments!

This is a bit of an experiment for me, Let's see how it goes!

(Oh yeah, for fans of my other stories, I am working on the chapters for WL and LEF, so you should see those soon too!?)