storm clouds, creatures of black smoke, thunder, and lightning. Their eyes blazed like stars. Their mouths snapped, showing and hiding smoky white teeth.
"They hunger for weredragon souls," Dies Irae said. "The weredragons will not have a chance to use their Beams this time. The nightshades will swoop from the clouds and break them."
Umbra panted. Her cheeks were red. Her eyes closed. "More, my lord."
He led her past the nightshades into a field drenched with blood.
"Here, Umbra. My proudest creations."
She screamed in delight. "Sun God!"
Five thousand mimic dragons roared before them. They took flight and circled above, showering droplets of blood. Their wings were made of human skin. Their bones and flesh were sewn together from thousands of bodies. Fifty Animating Stones pulsed inside each one's breast. When they screamed, the sound shook the earth.
He looked at Umbra. She held her hands to her chest, gasping.
"This army will descend upon Requiem," he told her. "The weredragons have defeated scattered enemies before. Now they will face an army such as the world has never seen. Soon we will have their heads."
She stared at him, eyes blazing, lips parted. She panted. Such cruelty in this one, he thought. Such strength, such hatred, such fire.
When Gloriae had served him, she had never shown fire, only ice. Gloriae had always been so cold, so calculating. But Umbra... this one was a demon's daughter, a creature of shadow and malice. Dies Irae pulled her toward him, clutched her throat, and squeezed her body. She gasped and her eyes shone.
"You will bear me sons," he said.
She bared her teeth. "Sons who will lead. Sons who will bring fear to the world." She clenched her fists. "Sons who will rule a land with no weredragons."
He pushed her to the ground. She lay in the dust and mimic blood, looking up at him. He tore her bodice open, exposing her goose-bumped flesh, and she growled. He took her violently, until she screamed, and the mimic dragons screamed above. When he was done, he dragged her through the mud, and returned with her to the city walls. They climbed atop the tallest guard tower. They stood above this grand army, this sea of dark wonders, this glory and power and lust and blood. He raised his arms, and they howled. The mimics brandished blades, the snowbeasts snapped their teeth, the skeletons clanked, the swamp lizards growled, the Poisoned screamed, the nightshades screeched, the dragons roared.
Dies Irae smiled.
He put his arm around Umbra's waist.
"We march now," he said. "We march to victory and glory. You will march by my side."
She drew her daggers and snarled. "I will kill by your side."
"We march to Requiem!" he called to his army. Their howls shook the city. The sun itself seemed to tremble. With dust and noise and fury, they marched.
LACRIMOSA
She wiped Agnus Dei's forehead, kissed it, and lifted the bowl of soup.
"You must eat, Agnus Dei. Kyrie made soup."
She held the bowl up to her daughter's lips. Lying on a pile of furs, Agnus Dei sipped, winced, and spat it out. She coughed.
"The pup... he's flying too slow. We must reach Salvandos. We have to keep flying."
She coughed again and trembled. Her face was pale, and her eyelids fluttered. More sweat beaded on her brow. Lacrimosa had lit a fire at the cave's entrance, but it was still cold here, so cold that she was always shivering. She rearranged the furs covering Agnus Dei.
"Salvandos is far away, sweetheart. You flew there already with Kyrie, do you remember? It was in the summer. Drink the soup, Agnus Dei. It'll help you."
She held the bowl up again, but Agnus Dei only coughed when she sipped and shivered. Her forehead was so hot. Lacrimosa kept the bowl up, and sip by sip, Agnus Dei managed to drink half the bowl.
The campfire cast flickering light against the cave walls. This place lay far north in the ruins of Requiem, in the mountains where few dragons had ever flown. It was a hidden place, but Lacrimosa did not feel safe here. We hide, but he'll find us, she thought. Dies Irae's armies will scour this land, and they will find us anywhere we hide.
She touched her daughter's cheek. "It's time," she whispered.
Agnus Dei shut her eyes, mumbled, and nodded.
Lacrimosa pulled back the furs, revealing Agnus Dei's left arm. It ended with a wet bandage, one of only two bandages they owned. Blood and pus painted the bandage red and yellow. It smelled of infection.
Wincing, Lacrimosa unpeeled the bandage.