golden scales ahead.
"Gloriae!" she called, but heard no answer.
She flapped her wings, snarled, and tried to reach her daughter.
That was when she saw the tornado.
It spun before her, horrible in its sound and fury. It looked to Lacrimosa like a great nightshade, or like the terror in her heart, the pain that ran between her and her countless kin beyond the stars. It spun toward her, and Lacrimosa shut her eyes. She flew in the roar, wings useless, and Lacrimosa saw before her silver harps, and flowers on marble tiles, and sunlight between birches. She floated as on clouds, and a smile found her lips.
"Daughters," she said with a smile, reaching out her arms, and the toddlers ran into her embrace. They laughed, sunlight upon them, clad in silk, flowers in their hair. The marble columns rose around them, and hills of trees bloomed.
Lightning rent the world
Thunder boomed.
She opened her eyes, and saw rain, and saw nightshades screeching and fleeing. Lacrimosa flapped her wings, eyes stinging, the wind and rain and memories crashing against her.
"Lacrimosa!" cried a distance voice, barely audible. A black shape flew toward her, burly, reaching out.
"Ben!" she shouted.
Their claws touched, and then the storm blew them apart. Nightshades swirled around them, dispersing into wisps. The tornado sucked up some of the creatures. Others it tossed aside. Lacrimosa managed to grab Benedictus, and she clung to him. The storm spun them and finally cast them out into a world of soft rain, grumbling thunder, and rainbows.
Lacrimosa looked around her. She saw the tornado a league away, moving westward and away from her. Nightshades spun within it. One nightshade broke free and flew toward her. Lacrimosa and Benedictus blew fire at it, the last flames they could muster. Alone, the nightshade dared not face the firelight. It screeched and fled.
"Where are the young ones?" Lacrimosa shouted. The wind was still roaring.
Benedictus pointed. "I see Kyrie and Agnus Dei."
The blue and red dragon came flying from above. They had flown above the storm, and soon hovered by Benedictus and Agnus Dei.
"Where's Gloriae?" Lacrimosa asked, looking around frantically.
"Gloriae!" Agnus Dei called, also searching.
Lacrimosa flew back toward the storm, seeking golden scales. The others flew around her, also seeking. Few nightshades remained. What nightshades attacked them, they beat back with firelight. The tornado was retreating rapidly, leaving a land of puddles and shattered trees. Was it taking Gloriae with it?
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa shouted. "Can you hear me?"
She flew, scanning the ruins below, and her eyes caught a glint of gold. She flew closer and gasped. A golden dragon lay upon a burned tree below, legs limp, head tilted back.
"Gloriae!" Lacrimosa called and dived. The other dragons dived with her. Lacrimosa reached Gloriae first. She hovered above her daughter, fear claiming her. Was Gloriae, only recently returned to her, taken from her again?
No. Gloriae was alive. Her left wing moved, and her eyes fluttered.
"Mother," the girl whispered.
Lacrimosa touched her daughter's cheek. "I'm here, Gloriae, I'm here, you're fine now."
Benedictus helped lift Gloriae from the burned tree, and they placed her on the ground.
Gloriae blinked, and her lips opened and closed several times before she could speak. "I fell. I'm... I'm not good at flying."
When Lacrimosa examined her daughter for wounds, she found bruises and scrapes, and an ugly gash along her thigh, but no broken bones. Soon Gloriae was able to stand, gingerly test her limbs, and walk.
Benedictus scanned the skies. "The nightshades are gone for now. But they'll be back soon. Shift into human form, everyone. We'll be harder to spot. Those bastards still hate firelight, but they now tolerate the sun."
They turned human again, and Lacrimosa saw that bruises covered Gloriae, and blood seeped from her thigh. She tried to tend to the wound, but Gloriae held her back, eyes icy.
"I'm fine," the girl said. "I've suffered worse."
Lacrimosa shivered. She knew when Gloriae had suffered worse wounds; it had been when she still served Dies Irae, and Kyrie had gored her with his horn. She shoved the thought aside.
When she turned to the others, she saw that Kyrie too was battered. A bruise was spreading beneath his eye. His lip was fat and cracked. He clutched his side, as if he'd been hurt there too.
"Kyrie, did you also fall?" she asked in concern.
Kyrie glanced at Agnus Dei, who shot him a venomous stare.
"Uh, yeah," Kyrie said, looking away from Agnus Dei. "I also fell."
"Fell onto Agnus Dei's fist, maybe," Benedictus muttered to himself.
Agnus Dei glared at him and clenched those fists.