Ten minutes to the hour.
I'm on Umbra's shoulders high above her full array of generals, all of us gathered halfway down the absurd length of Nyth's snout. Little has been said since we assembled here, and many of us, including me, are looking skyward. Searching for any sign of wings amidst the white clouds.
Not a soul has flown down here, as far as I'm aware. Vander claims a few did join us while Umbra and I were talking, but not nearly as many as we expected or hoped. I'm praying to my Goddess that it's simple inertia keeping them in place, and they'll come to their senses once the fighting starts. Showing that there's genuine weight to our words could potentially sway some hearts. I'm only nervous about how many would-be allies will die in the process of substantiating our claims.
Well… I'm nervous about a lot of things, actually.
Every passing minute drags like claws on slate.
Warfare. Death. Fighting to win. Fighting to kill. Fighting for our lives. Me, fighting for my safety. The brutal motions of violence, slaughter, and carnage, of a scale I've never before witnessed. The ambushes were brief and swift, but this is going to be drawn out, slow, and yet just as intense.
Umbra is discussing opening formations with her generals and I slump limp over the top of her head, trying to control my breathing and keep my nerves from getting to me. It isn't easy. I can tell I'm not the only one who's feeling this tension. Haunt has been staring at the skies this entire time, Vander is slowly pacing from side to side on our left, and Plutoryl has been unusually quiet.
Even the veterans are uneasy.
Should I be more nervous?
Comfort comes from an unexpected source.
Alabaster reaches up to tap my leg. "You'll do fine, storm. Plenty of us are watching your tail."
I manage a halfhearted nod. "Thanks, Bast."
"Course." She glances around, axetail swaying. "Anything… specific? Bothering you?"
I lift my head a little. "Yes. Everyone's uneasy. Makes me wonder… Should I be more concerned?"
"However concerned you are is how concerned you should be. Don't make anything worse for yourself." With another look at the others, she hums in thought. "Right. If you're wondering why… You know we've been at war for… longer than some of us have been alive. We've had plenty of large scale confrontations, hundreds against hundreds, sometimes even thousands. But nothing quite like this."
"All of us against all of them…"
"Exactly. Add to that the finality of all this…" She crosses her arms and sighs. "This decides it. Once and for all. The final decisive battle. The war to end all wars. You know? It's not just the fight that everyone's thinking about. It's what the fuck comes after too. You've got hundreds of us who've been fighting for centuries. We're warriors. That's what we are. What's a warrior to do if there is no more war? Let our claws and blades dull? Hang it all up and go fucking… paint or something? Write poetry? Who the fuck knows?"
"That's exactly what we'll do," Plutoryl replies, sharpening his claws. "We'll finally be able to live under the sun. We could go anywhere. Do anything. Whatever we want. I, for one, will be doing absolutely nothing, save laying on a beach in the tropics…"
"I think I'd make one Hell of a butcher," Alabaster huffs, ruffling her wings. "I'll open a steakhouse, specifically. Introduce those tiny mortals to the wonders of draconid cuisine."
I want to taste her cooking…
"I'll probably work with Xikarius," Vander muses as he wards his moth wings from pyromancy. "Least I can do, I figure."
"I recommend against daydreaming of the aftermath," Haunt sagely tells us all, still watching the skies. "Having an idea in mind is one thing. Fantasizing about it will get you killed. There's a war to be won. Stay focused. Stay sharp. It's coming. Mere minutes away."
"Fair enough!"
"Buzzkill."
"Right…"
"Remember our initial targets," Umbra hisses. Looking nowhere in particular, she feels at my legs hanging over her shoulders as if checking that I'm still there, then starts absentmindedly preening my talons. "Demolitions first. Target the infrastructure, not the people. Those who subsequently attack us in retaliation are unlikely to have swayed by any amount, even with my offer. Ideally, leaving the less zealous draconids out of the confrontation."
Haunt asks, "The residences first, correct? Not the functional skylands."
"Yes. We will be sparing as much of the functional skylands as we can manage. The Lifespring and the Hatcheries are not to be touched, nor the Archives or the various academies. These institutions are invaluable resources and must be preserved."
The mention of the Lifespring reminds me. "Vander. Um. I think… It's probably not my place to say this, but I spoke with your mother… briefly. She still grieves losing you. I imagine she might like to… I don't know. Will she stand down?"
"I don't know."
That's all he has to say.
Plutoryl adds, "Poor Serenity is more prisoner than accomplice. The Church has had her by the throat for centuries now because of our betrayal. But, like all the other Primarchs, she's going to be far up above, and well out of reach until much later in this offensive."
I'm about to ask why but Haunt explains, "Aurora's chosen have already retreated to guard the keep, so to speak. Her toy soldiers will be the ones meeting us in the field. For that reason, it's unlikely they'll receive any aid from the Primarchs or Aurora, which is entirely to our advantage."
"As is the lie that Umbra is some mere fallen Primarch," Alabaster chuckles, elbowing our Goddess's hip. "These Legends will be lining up to take a stab thinking they might be able to take her, only to get swatted like flies. Fucking idiots."
"I won't be joining immediately, for the same reasons I'm remaining humanoid. If I immediately exterminate them all, why would anyone believe we intend to do no harm to those who surrender?"
"A little shock and awe might coax them even more."
"Hm. I'll consider it. My priorities in this phase are keeping my Crimsy safe and securing as many surrenders as possible. Now… Prepare yourselves. The hour is nigh."
All of us go quiet, watching the Heavens above. The only sound here is the wind whistling through Nyth's bleached bones. My breaths start out slow but gradually accelerate, taking on a disturbing rattle as my hands grow unsteady. My stomach twists. My chest is tight. My jaw is clenched. I feel like a tightly coiled spring waiting to snap. The seconds drag by like hours. The time between my every heartbeat feels like centuries.
The storm is coming. It's about to make landfall.
Any second now, the skies will burn.
I can only hope we come out the victors.
I'm not sure I want to know what happens if we lose.
My heart trembles under the icy grip of fear.
The clocktowers ring out the final hour.
Their resonance echoes across eternity.
Judgment day has come for us all.
"Fly," Umbra declares. "Together."
We, the Wretched, take flight as one.
To war. The battle that decides it all.