Ellia collapsed to her knees in the temple, hands clasped atop the altar.

  Mimi’s hands cupped hers—warm, steady, grounding.

  Mimi was smiling.

  “The memory continues after that,” Mimi said gently. “But it’s not much. The Raven delivers the bodies to the temple like you asked, and that’s about it.” She tilted her head. “So… what did you think?”

  Ellia didn’t answer right away. Her mind was still wading through sky, blood, and wingbeats, through the echo of howling and the impossible weight of flight. Then her breath hitched—and her face split into a grin.

  “Incredible,” she breathed. Louder, now. “The flying—by the Twelve—and the Lythera.” Her eyes sharpened. “They weren’t just beasts. They were allies.”

  The word settled between them.

  “We have a shit-ton to discuss,” Ellia added, the captain already resurfacing. “And our… majestic creature is something extraordinary. How long was I in there?”

  “Captain,” Mimi said primly, “language.” Then, unable to help herself, she grinned. “And barely three seconds.”

  Ellia blinked. “Three seconds? That was an entire lifetime. You’re messing with me.”

  Mimi shook her head. “Nope.”

  Ellia snorted. “Screw my language—that was fucking wild. Honestly, I don’t care how you speak—just don’t let it slip at the wrong moment. Deal?”

  A shit-eating grin spread across Mimi’s face. “Aye-aye.”

  She rocked back on her heels, then added, more serious, “Oh. Before we forget—our girl doesn’t like being called a beast. Says it’s offensive. To her and to the divine mother.”

  Ellia’s brows lifted. “She told you that?”

  “Kinda.” Mimi shrugged. “She doesn’t have much vocabulary yet. When I called her a beast she just… stopped talking to me.” A beat. “Then I got, ‘I’m no beast’ and ‘ugly beast word.’ I’m paraphrasing.”

  Ellia huffed despite herself.

  “She mostly talks in pictures,” Mimi went on. “That’s where I got the whole divine-mother-Gaia vibe. Could be wrong.” She gave Ellia a look. “Just don’t use the word when you’re giving orders. I don’t think we want her sulking at the wrong time.”

  Ellia exhaled slowly. “Noted.”

  She leaned back on her heels, gaze drifting to the altar—to the sigils carved into stone older than any oath she’d ever sworn. There was too much. Too many questions stacked atop one another.

  Their beastly—ally—she corrected herself again.

  Their marks.

  The motes of light in their eyes.

  The temple.

  And that didn’t even begin to cover the heist they were still in the process of planning—with the Tetra, of all people. Never in a million years had she imagined working with an empire. Yet here she was. Could she even trust them? Was she gambling the future of the Flock itself? Her mind whispered yes—but her gut kept hammering the same answer back at her.

  Keep going.

  “Mmh?” Mimi prompted.

  “I can’t,” Ellia said at last. “Not right now. There isn’t time.”

  She stood, brushing dust from her knees as her mind snapped back into motion. Plans. Routes. People to warn. Pieces to move.

  Then a different thought surfaced.

  Mimi.

  Ellia’s expression must have shifted, because Mimi stilled. The brightness drained from her face, replaced by something quieter. Attentive.

  “Captain?” Mimi asked, voice steady. “You’ve got more to say. I can tell. You were about to pop when you first walked in.”

  “Pop?”

  “Yeah,” Mimi said. “The language. Full-on mom mode.” She smirked. “Ok mom is harsh—You’re not Mom. More like… big sis. But anywho you were about to pop-- with all the new shit going down I can only imagine its weighing on you.”

  Ellia huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve been something else.

  “Yeah,” she admitted softly. “I guess I did pop.”

  She looked at Mimi, really looked at her.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Ellia said.

  Her voice came out hesitant—guarded—but she pushed through it. This mattered. For both of them.

  “H-how are you?” A catch in her throat. “I mean… how are you?” She emphasized the word, lightly tapping Mimi’s chest. “In here.” Then she reached up, pressing a finger gently to Mimi’s forehead. “And in here.”

  Mimi didn’t answer right away.

  Her brows drew low. Her eyes narrowed—not in anger, but focus. Thought.

  “We’ve been through a lot these last few days,” Ellia continued quietly. “I’m not going to mince words. You were put in a position where someone could have died by your hand.” She held Mimi’s gaze. “And what followed... what we just witnessed—that wasn’t chaos. It was command.”

  She exhaled slowly.

  “We chose to send the Raven. That choice put Tri troops in the ground. It burned one of the Lythera alive.” Her voice didn’t rise. Didn’t soften. “Their blood doesn’t belong to fate or circumstance. It belongs to us.”

  Mimi gnawed at her lip. Then something in her sharpened.

  “I know,” she said. Calm. Steady. “And I appreciate you asking.”

  She inhaled. “You didn’t hide the truth from us. Every member of the Flock knew freedom wouldn’t be free. Or clean. Or fair.” A pause. “I knew—” She corrected herself. “We knew—blood would be part of it eventually.”

  She looked up. Straight at Ellia.

  “Compared to the kingdoms, we’re nothing. A droplet in a sea of iron.” Her voice didn’t waver. “But that doesn’t mean what we do is small. The blood we spill—or refuse to spill—is concentrated. Like a Luminous shard. Potent. It changes things.”

  Ellia opened her mouth to respond—

  Mimi lifted a hand. “Please. Let me finish.”

  Ellia nodded.

  “It wasn’t that I wanted to kill him,” Mimi said. “And it wasn’t fear that stopped me.” Her jaw tightened. “It was realizing how powerless I was.”

  The words came slower now.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “The powerlessness. The inability to breathe. The knowledge that one man’s hands could erase everything I was.” She swallowed. “That’s what stayed with me.”

  She exhaled, steadying herself.

  “And yeah—what haunted me most afterward wasn’t him. It was his family. A father who wouldn’t come home.” A bitter half-smile. “A story we know too well.”

  She looked away briefly, then back.

  “At least they would have still had a mother,” she said softly. “Better than we ever got. I chose to keep those kids from our fate. ”

  Her fingers curled into a fist.

  “This war orphaned us. Maybe some of our people are still alive somewhere—but they’re not here.” Her voice hardened. “All we have is each other. And I will never let anyone take that from me again.”

  A beat.

  “If I have to kill to defend this family,” Mimi said, each word deliberate, “I won’t hesitate next time.”

  Silence settled between them.

  Mimi’s jaw trembled—not with doubt, but with the weight of saying it out loud.

  Ellia understood.

  She’d sworn the same thing once. Not to people—but to the heavens themselves. To change a world that refused to change on its own.

  She didn’t know how that future would unfold.

  Only that the next step mattered.

  And Mimi had just taken hers.

  Ellia placed a hand on Mimi’s shoulder and held her there. Her expression was steady—unreadable.

  “I will kill defending this family as well,” she said. “And I believe most of us share that resolve.” Her grip tightened, just slightly. “Now and forever, we stand together.”

  Then—just as quickly—the severity cracked.

  The captain smirked.

  Mimi’s brows drew together. “WHAT??”

  Ellia tapped her communicator, scrolling upward as the smirk sharpened into something feral. “Your mask is about ready,” she said casually. “And it’s freaking r-a-a-a-d.”

  Mimi froze.

  Then exploded.

  Her face lit up like it was the morning of Apollo’s coronation and presents were stacked floor to ceiling. “WHERE is it? Do you have it? Is it cooler than yours? Can you just—hand it over already?”

  Ellia laughed softly. “We’ve gotta snag it before we bounce. Stick with me, alright?” Her tone shifted—clean, commanding. “But keep it tight. We’re in captain mode now.”

  “Yeah—yeah—yeah. Respect. Okay, let’s go!”

  Shaking her head, Ellia turned and strode down the pew-lined aisle, communicator already in hand. “I’ve got important business to handle. Let me be for a minute. I’ll fill you in once everything’s coordinated. Got it?”

  “As long as I get my mask along the way, I can do silence,” Mimi said. “Just don’t forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  Mimi shot her a look like Ellia had just knocked an ice cream cone out of her hands.

  Ellia sighed. “You’re getting your mask.” She gestured toward the main hall. “Head to the workshop. I’ll meet you by the tunnel entrance. Tell them the Raven is here for her feathers.”

  Mimi didn’t respond—she was already gone.

  She burst through the massive temple doors, momentum almost winning. The weight of the slab caught her off balance, sending her stumbling across the hall. She recovered by dropping to all fours for a beat, then slammed her shoulder into the double doors of the main foyer, ramming them open.

  Flapping doors.

  Squealing hinges.

  Gone.

  Ellia watched her disappear, a small smile tugging at her lips before it was overcome by a thought.

  A mask wasn’t just cover. It was a line you stepped across. Once worn, you weren’t allowed to pretend anymore. They didn’t make you anonymous. They made you accountable.

  Then she moved.

  The communicator rang once—didn’t even complete a dial tone before Dante picked up.

  “Captain.”

  “Let me have it,” Ellia said. “Bad first.”

  “Uh—no bad news, unless you count more troops being deployed to the tower.” A pause. “Your… beast is incredible.

  You should’ve seen—”

  “I did see,” Ellia cut in. “I’ll explain later. What’s important?”

  “First off, the gear she brought back? Epic. Most of it’s salvageable. The rest we can move on the black market.”

  “I know.” The edge in Ellia’s voice surprised even her. She exhaled. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot to explain—but not now.

  We’re lining up another heist in the next few hours. Time’s tight.”

  “Isn’t it always?” Dante said dryly. Then, more serious: “We found a cavity beneath the temple.”

  A pause.

  “It’s… intact. Too intact.”

  Ellia slowed. “Define too intact.”

  “It’s like the chamber’s been preserved,” Dante said. “Chip’s smart-ass said it looked ‘indifferent to the temporal constraints of the physical realm,’ which is his way of saying the stone looks freshly cut. No wear. No rounding. Like it was made yesterday. Compared to the state of the temple above—night and day.”

  Another beat.

  “And it’s holding water.”

  Ellia stopped walking. “Holding water?”

  “Saltwater,” Dante said. “Tidal movement. Which means it connects to the sea—but the only way to reach the mouth is through the boneyard.”

  A fraction of hesitation.

  “Big enough to berth a ship. Possibly two.”

  Ellia exhaled slowly. “If it’s connected to the sea, why haven’t we seen it before? And why haven't you checked it out yet?”

  “Tide’s climbing right now,” Dante said. “And we only had the small dinghy—everything else is in use or at the desal plant. With this shifting tides we couldn’t risk a run through the boneyard.”

  “We’ve passed through there a thousand times,” Ellia said. “How did we miss it? I’ve been everywhere on this forsaken rock.”

  “We think it’s tucked in the crotch of the cliffs behind the twin spires,” Dante replied, “but that’s guesswork based on the way the stairwell descends. It winds—hard to map from inside. We’d need a drone, or a stronger engine at high tide, to confirm.”

  Ellia absorbed that. “Interesting. Anything else?”

  Dante hesitated. Just enough to matter. “The ceiling.”

  “What about it?”

  “Stalactites,” he said. “But they’re not stone.”

  Ellia’s grip tightened on the communicator. “Then what are they?”

  “Crystalline formations,” Dante said. “Massive ones.”

  “Any paradox signature?”

  “Minimal,” he answered. “We can’t draw from them. But they glow.”

  Ellia didn’t hesitate. “What color?”

  Silence. Then—quietly: “Blue.”

  The word settled like a weight in her chest.

  Luminous.

  A battery nations would burn cities for hidden in a temple marked by the Twins and built upon a formation of luminous crystals.

  She swallowed contemplating the ever growing stakes. “Good work. Keep searching. We need answers before this powder keg goes off and we lose everything.”

  “There’s more,” Dante added. “Glyphs. Everywhere. Not a language we recognize—older. A library too. Same script.”

  Ellia closed her eyes.

  “But two symbols keep repeating,” Dante continued. “And we know them.”

  “How,” Ellia asked, “if you’ve never seen the language before?”

  “Because they match our marks,” Dante said. “The combined sun and moon—like yours and Mimi’s. And the separate forms, like the rest of the flock. And they’re depicted everywhere.”

  Ellia drew a slow breath. “Then it isn’t just a temple of Apollo,” she said. “It’s a temple of the Twins.”

  Silence again.

  One step at a time, her subconscious reminded her.

  “Keep digging, Owl,” she said. “I may need you soon.”

  “The heist?”

  “Right now it’s raw,” Ellia said. “Just the skeleton of a plan. I’m sitting down with the Tetra next to get their input. Once there’s more meat on it, I’ll loop you in.”

  “Wait did you say—”

  Ellia didn’t give Dante the opportunity to ask his question knowing exactly what he was worried about. “Chances are slim you’ll need to jump in,” she added. “But stay ready. If things tilt sideways, I’ll call it.”

  “THE TETRA!”

  Ellia ended the transmission before Dante could spiral.

  She closed her eyes and breathed once.

  “Next step,” she murmured.

  Another breath.

  “Next step. Just need to take the next step.”

  The clamor of sprinting feet thundered up behind her.

  “IT’S BEAUTIFUL!” Mimi’s voice hit her like a thrown brick of joy. “Just—beautiful. Definitely cooler than yours. WAY cooler. For sursies.”

  Ellia barely had time to turn before Mimi was already talking over herself.

  “Integrated HUD! Air filter! Night vision—oh, oh, and they said there’s more to show me once I learn how to use it properly. And look—look at this—”

  Mimi spun in place, white feathers flashing as the light caught them.

  “THE FEATHERS,” she declared, reverent and feral all at once. “They’re sick. SO sick. No offense, Captain, but yours looks like it’s trying not to be noticed. Mine absolutely is not, unless—” Mimi pressed a hand to the side of her helmet and much like their feathered friend the white feathers dulled to grey before going black. “—Dope huh!!??”

  Ellia felt the corner of her mouth lift despite herself.

  The world was changing.

  And it wasn’t trying to hide anymore.