when she tried to rise, he beat her down. "You will suffer now."
The nightshades screamed inside him. He could feel their maggots squirm in his wound, the gaping hole of his left eye, the eye Benedictus had taken from him. The light of the maggot eyes burned, painting the girl a blood red. She whimpered and cowered, and Dies Irae laughed. The smoke of nightshades danced around his fingertips as he grabbed her, shook her, hurt her.
He soon stood above her dead body. Blackness like ink coiled in the air around him, and he laughed.
LACRIMOSA
From the distance, Lacrimosa could hear the youths fighting. She could not make out the words—only raised voices, clanking steel, and shouts. She stood up to rush over, to find the young ones and break them up.
Benedictus also stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Let them settle their conflicts," he said, voice soft. The firelight painted his face orange and gold.
Lacrimosa shook her head in frustration. "They're fighting, Ben."
He nodded. "Let them fight. They're young, angry, and strong. All three of them are. They need to clash and lock horns; that's their way. They'll blow off steam, even if they bash one another around a bit."
Lacrimosa sighed. "Maybe you're right. Were you and I ever so young and angry?"
They sat down again by the fire. Lacrimosa leaned against her husband, and Benedictus placed his arm around her. They watched the firelight crackle among the ruins, lighting the smashed statues and burned trees.
"We were that young once, yes," he said. "But you were never angry. You were strong too, and you're strong now. But yours is the strength of water. Kyrie and Agnus Dei are fire. Gloriae is ice."
"And what are you, Ben?" she asked him.
He let out a long, deep sigh and stared into the flames in silence. Finally he said, "I am nothing now but old memories and pain."
She played with his hair, black streaked with gray. "Something weighs heavy on you," she said.
He nodded but said nothing. Lacrimosa wished she could ease his pain; she saw it every day in his eyes. She saw the burning of Requiem there, as she saw it around her. She saw Lanburg Fields, and the mountains of bodies, and all those who'd died under his banners. And she saw new pain there today; he had seen something during the past moon, but Lacrimosa knew he needed time to reflect upon it. Maybe he would never speak of it. She kissed his cheek.
"You are strong, my lord, and brave and noble. You are my husband, my king. You are a hero to the young ones; even to Gloriae."
She ran her fingers across his cheek, his skin rough and stubbly. He pulled her closer to him.
"They would fight even as toddlers, the twins," he said. "Do you remember?"
She smiled. "I do. They would fight over dolls, over candies...." She laughed softly. "Do they fight over Kyrie now?"
"That boy was trouble from day one. Do you know, I spoke to him in Lanburg Fields. I blessed him before the battle." Benedictus sighed. "I thought they had all died, Kyrie too. I thought Gloriae was gone from us forever. I thought Agnus Dei would die under the mountain. We've cheated death for so long, Lacrimosa. How much longer can we flee?"
She took his hands in hers. His hands were so large and rough; hers looked tiny and white atop them.
"We're done fleeing," she said. "The griffins are our allies; they'll fight with us when the time comes. And we'll find the Beams. We'll seal the nightshades and defeat Dies Irae."
"And what then?" he asked. "Even with Irae dead, another will replace him. One of his lieutenants will inherit the throne, and be as cruel, as heartless, as ceaseless as Irae was in hunting us."
A voice came from across the fire.
"No," spoke Gloriae. "I will sit upon the Ivory Throne then."
Lacrimosa saw her daughter step from behind burned trees. The girl's golden hair cascaded across her shoulders, strewn with ash. Her leggings were torn, her boots muddy, her armor's glint dulled. And yet she walked nobly, and her eyes stared with green ice.
"Daughter," Lacrimosa said. "We cannot ask this of you. You belong with us now, here in Requiem."
Gloriae stood by the fire, hand on the hilt of her sword. "I am Vir Requis, yes. My loyalty is now to my true father, King Benedictus. We will rebuild this land. I promise it. And I will not watch an heir to