of marble columns among birch trees, a land where dragons flew. Requiem lay in ruins now, forgotten, her glow drowned under Osanna's fire. But she had once stood; Agnus Dei remembered. She would never forget the courts of Requiem.
Like there was a Requiem, there is a Salvandos too, a land far in the western mists of legend. Agnus Dei nodded as she flew. Salvandos was real. She knew it with every heartbeat, every breath. This land would not have fallen under Osanna's rule.
They flew for hundreds of leagues before Agnus Dei's head began to spin, and they had to dive down. She saw no towns, only a forest and grasslands where deer grazed. She and Kyrie landed in the grass, caught a deer, and ate silently. They drank from a stream. Agnus Dei's wings, lungs, and heart ached, but she dared not rest for more than a few moments. Then she was flying again, Kyrie at her side.
"You look tired, pup," she said to him.
He grunted, flapping stiff wings beside her. "I can keep up with you." He snorted fire at her. "Kitten."
"We'll see, little puppy."
They flew until nightfall, the most Agnus Dei had ever flown in one day. They must have crossed a thousand leagues, moving so far from Sequestra Mountains, so far from the marble city of Confutatis where Dies Irae lived. In the darkness, they found a forest and shifted into human form.
"It's best we sleep as humans," Agnus Dei said. "Just in case Dies Irae has dragon hunters roaming the woods."
Oaks, elms, and birches rustled around them like ghosts in the night. The air smelled like mold and earth, cold in her lungs. They had no blankets, so they curled up on the ground, holding each other for warmth. Kyrie smelled like grass and wind and clouds, and she clung to him in the darkness, her face against his chest. He began to stroke her hair, but then his hand stilled, and he snored softly.
I miss you, Mother, Agnus Dei thought and tears fled her eyes. I miss you, Father. She shivered against Kyrie, more lost and lonely than she'd ever felt. Flying all day had left her stiff, sore, and exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. In the darkness, she kept seeing Dies Irae chaining, stabbing, and torturing her mother.
"I'll save you, Mother," she whispered. "I'll find the salvanae, you'll see."
The trees rustled and wind moaned. An owl hooted. Agnus Dei wondered if wolves or bears filled these woods, or worse—men. She shivered and wept for a long time, grateful that Kyrie slept and couldn't see her weakness. When he peeked at her, then closed his eyes again, she realized that he feigned sleep to spare her embarrassment, and that soothed her. Finally, nestled against him, she fell into slumber.
LACRIMOSA
Lacrimosa did not remember losing consciousness. She did not remember the sun rising. She did not remember landing in this rocky field. Last thing she remembered was a starless night, her husband and daughter beside her, then—she grimaced to recall it—searing pain and griffin talons.
Where am I?
She gazed around, eyes blurry. She was still in dragon form, and everything hurt. Boots stomped around her head, spurred leather boots with steel tips. Lacrimosa tried to raise her head from the ground, but could not. A chain bound her neck down, she realized, and more chains bound her body. The boots stirred up dust, and she coughed and blinked.
"The creature!" called a voice, the voice of a young man, a soldier. "The creature is waking up."
She could see only his boots; their steel tips had skulls engraved upon them. He sounded like a youth, and Lacrimosa felt a deep sadness that Dies Irae should infect youth with his hatred. More boots raced toward her, and Lacrimosa cried out. Several pointy objects, spears or sticks, jabbed her sides, her back, her tail. She roared and tried to raise her head, but could not, and her roar was muffled. She tried to blow fire, but an iron muzzle held her mouth closed.
"The creature is struggling, yeah?" said one soldier and laughed, and more laughter sounded. Boots kicked Lacrimosa, their steel jabbing, and tears filled her eyes.
"Please," she tried to whisper, but could not speak through the muzzle. The soldiers laughed and kept kicking and jabbing her.
She wanted to shift, to take human form, to try and escape her chains, but dared not. As a dragon, her scales offered some protection. If she became human, the boots and spears could kill her.