never spoke of what happened in that forest, not even a week later when she married her lord Benedictus, not even nine moons later when she gave birth to her daughters.
They were twins, one dark, the other fair.
"Agnus Dei, I name you," she whispered to the babe with dark curls. Lamb of God, the name meant, for the child's hair was soft and curly as lamb's fleece, and she was holy.
"And I name you Gloriae," she whispered to the fair child, for this babe seemed a being of light, angelic and pure, a golden child.
One dark babe, one fair. One child of fire, the other of gold. One child Lacrimosa kept; the other Dies Irae stole from her. Agnus Dei and Gloriae; the chambers of her heart.
They are Benedictus's daughters, Lacrimosa told herself when they were born, and she told this to herself today too, walking among the ruins of this seaside fort. They are like him. They are his. They could never be the children of Dies Irae; they are too noble, too good at heart, even Gloriae whom Dies Irae has raised. They are ours.
Tears were salty on her lips like the waves that whispered. Lacrimosa turned and walked back to their camp, to the fire Benedictus and Kyrie were tending. She approached her husband, a trembling smile found her lips, and she kissed him. He held her by the fire and water. She laid her head against his shoulder, shut her eyes, and felt safe in his arms.
That was when she heard the whistles.
Lacrimosa opened her eyes, and she saw thousands of slivers in the sky, shadowing the world.
"Arrows!" Kyrie shouted. "Fly!"
Lacrimosa ran and shifted. Arrows peppered the beach around her. Two hit her back, but snapped against her scales. Ilbane sizzled over her, and she yelped.
"Fly over the water!" she cried and flapped her wings. She saw Benedictus and Kyrie flying beside her; they too had shifted. She heard more whistles. When she peeked over her shoulder, she saw a thousand archers in the trees above the beach. Their arrows flew, and more clanked against the fleeing Vir Requis. This time, an arrow broke Lacrimosa's scales and pierced her. She cried in pain; ilbane coated the arrowhead, sending fire through her.
"Fly faster!" she cried. They were far from the shore now, and when more arrows flew, they fell into the water. Lacrimosa exhaled in relief. We made it.
That was when she heard the griffins.
When Lacrimosa looked over her shoulder, she saw them there: Three griffins, their armor gilded and their wings wide. She recognized the leader. A woman sat atop that griffin, aiming a lance, her armor golden.
Gloriae. My daughter.
The sight of Gloriae sent more pain through Lacrimosa than the arrows. She wanted to fly toward her, to embrace her, to tell her who she was, to save her from Dies Irae. But how could she? How could she reveal this shattering truth to Gloriae? How would this girl raised to loath, hunt, and kill Vir Requis ever believe it?
You are Vir Requis too, Gloriae! she wanted to cry out. You have our magic within you. You can shift, become a dragon. I know it. You are not Dies Irae's. You cannot be his. You are the daughter of Benedictus.
All these things Lacrimosa ached to cry out, and tears filled her eyes, but she could bring no words to her lips. Gloriae and the riders she led were firing crossbows. The bolts whizzed by Lacrimosa, and one hit Kyrie's tail. The boy yelped, dipped several feet, but kept flying.
"That's it!" Kyrie said. He snarled, and suddenly he spun around to face the griffins. Lacrimosa's heart froze, and she cried out. Eyes narrowed and grin tight, Kyrie began flying toward Gloriae.
"Kyrie!" Lacrimosa cried.
Quarrels flew across the young Vir Requis. One hit his shoulder, and he grunted, but kept flying.
"Hello again, sweetheart," Kyrie said and drove his head into Gloriae's griffin.
Gloriae screamed and lashed her lance, but her griffin was bucking, and she could not aim. Kyrie clawed the beast, bit its shoulder, and shoved it. The two other griffins were clawing, but Kyrie's lashing tail kept them at bay.
Gloriae and her griffin fell and crashed into the sea. Kyrie blew fire at the other two griffins, holding them back.
"You die now, blondie," Kyrie said, growled, and swooped at Gloriae with open claws.
"No!" Lacrimosa cried and flew. Ice seemed to encase her. She was about to watch Kyrie kill her daughter. "Kyrie, no, she's my—"
The words froze on