Dies Irae lifted his foot off her neck.
"Will you plead for your life now, weredragon?" he asked. "Beg for it."
His boot crushed her shattered wrist, pinning her down. She saw her husband again, her love, her eternal companion. They danced in the halls of Requiem among marble columns. They raised their daughters in the light of stars and the song of harps. They fled together, hid together, fought together. She sat with him again by the stream outside Confutatis, the night they had summoned the griffins. The young ones went seeking supplies, and we kissed, and he loved me by the water.
She smiled softly. It began to snow. The snowflakes glided, so beautiful to her, and coated her.
"I do not fear death," she whispered, staring up with blurred eyes. "I do not fear my father's blade. But yes, I beg you, Dies Irae. If you still remember Requiem... if you still have any pity in you... spare me. Spare me for the child that I carry within me."
His eyes widened.
"Pregnant," he whispered. "With his child."
Her lips parted. The blade slammed down, a streak of starlight.
She gasped.
Blood bloomed across her breast, poppies in the snow.
She tried to speak, but no words left her lips. He stood above her, boots crushing her. He twisted the blade, his eyes alight. But Lacrimosa felt no pain, only love and warmth. She smiled softly and her fingers uncurled.
Harps played, and the stars seemed so close, their light no longer cold and distant, but warm against her. She looked at King's Column, which rose from the fire, and it seemed to her like the halls of Requiem stood again, all in white, awash with light. The birches rustled around her, their leaves silver.
"I return to you, Ben," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I love you."
She held his hand as starlight flooded her.
KYRIE ELEISON
He was running uphill when he saw her fall.
His heart froze.
He gasped.
Lacrimosa. Stars, no.
"Mother!" Agnus Dei shouted beside him, voice torn.
Stars, no, Kyrie prayed. She lost a father already, don't let her lose her mother too.
"Lacrimosa!" he shouted and ran uphill, his eyes burning. Smoke flowed around him. Fire licked at his boots. He ran, shouting, horror pulsing through him. Stars, no, please. He shoved his way between battling Earthen and mimics.
He reached the hilltop and saw Dies Irae laughing, Stella Lumen bloody in his hand. Lacrimosa lay at his feet, eyes glassy and staring. Kyrie shouted, eyes blurred, and leaped at him. He swung his sword.
The blade slammed against Dies Irae's breastplate. Rubies flew from it. Dies Irae laughed and swung his mace, and Kyrie leaped back, dodging it.
"Murderer!" Agnus Dei screamed, swinging her blade at Dies Irae. Her hair was wild, her eyes blazing. "I'll kill you, bastard! I'll kill you!"
Her blade slammed against his helmet, knocking his head sideways, but he stayed standing. He swung down his mace. Agnus Dei leaped back, and the mace grazed her thigh. She screamed and thrust her blade.
Shouting, Kyrie swung his sword too. He wanted to go to Lacrimosa. Is she dead? Oh stars, is she dead? But he dared not. He leaped onto Dies Irae, screaming, the world turned red. He slammed the pommel of his sword against Dies Irae's visor, a monstrous beak of steel. It dented, but Dies Irae only laughed.
Agnus Dei whipped around him and slammed her sword behind his knees, where his plates of armor joined. Dies Irae shouted. Agnus Dei swung the blade again, tears on her cheeks, shouting hoarsely. Blood splashed down his armor.
Dies Irae fell.
"You killed her!" Agnus Dei screamed, weeping. "You killed my parents, bastard."
Dies Irae was on his knees, blood seeping from his legs. More blood poured from his armpit, trickling over his armor.
"Knock him down!" Agnus Dei screamed and swung her sword into his helmet.
Dies Irae swung his mace at Kyrie, but missed. Kyrie hacked at his helmet too, and kicked, and Dies Irae fell onto his back. His blood darkened the snow.
Wet, gurgling laughter came from his helmet. "Yes, weredragons, fight me. I like it when you fight me."
Kyrie placed his foot against Dies Irae's chest, holding him down. He slammed his sword against the beak visor, knocking it open.
Bloody stars.
Kyrie froze, nausea filling him. For a moment, he could not move.
Moons ago, Benedictus had taken Dies Irae's left eye in battle. Today Dies Irae wore a new eye, sewn into his face with bloody stitches. It was the eye of a horse, three times the size of his right eye. It spun madly. Blood poured down his forehead, seeping into it.
"Stars," Kyrie whispered. "What have you done to yourself?"
Dies Irae opened his mouth and cackled. His human teeth were gone. Instead, wolf teeth were screwed into his rotting, bleeding gums.
"I am strong now," Dies Irae said, blood bubbling in his mouth. "I am mimic. I will live forever. I am too strong for you to kill."
He struggled to rise, but Kyrie kept his boot pressed against his breastplate. Agnus Dei stepped on his mace, pinning it down. Roaring, she ripped off his helmet and tossed it aside. Kyrie placed the tip of his sword against Dies Irae's neck.
"Call off your troops," he said.
He laughed, spraying blood. "Weredragon, you—"
"Call off your troops!" Kyrie shouted, pushing down his blade enough to tear the skin. A bead of blood trickled down Dies Irae's neck.
Dies Irae laughed and coughed. His chest rose and fell. "Mimics!" he shouted. "You heard the weredragon. Place down your arms. This is between the weredragons and me now."
The mimics grunted, howled, but obeyed. They tossed their weapons into the snow. The blades clanked against one another. The Earthen paused too from battle, panting, their cloaks red and black with blood.
Kyrie stared down at this man, this beast, this wretched creature who bled and cackled. He's no longer a man, he thought. He stopped being a man moons ago, maybe years ago.
"Agnus Dei, go to Lacrimosa," he said, never removing his eyes from Dies Irae.
Agnus Dei ran to her mother, knelt, and cradled her in her arms. She cried to the sky, a wail so heartbroken, that Kyrie knew that Lacrimosa was dead.
He tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword, keeping the blade pressed against Dies Irae's throat.
"You killed her," he said. "You killed so many. Why, Irae? Why?"
The creature cackled, his horse eye spinning wildly. Blood dripped down his teeth. "You...," he said, coughed, and laughed. "You are weredragon. You infested this world. You will die. You will be my mimics. You will be my slaves."
He tried to rise, but Kyrie held him down, his boot against the creature's breastplate. Agnus Dei cried and howled behind him. Kyrie realized that the entire battle had paused; the armies watched from a distance, smoke rising between them. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Terra and Memoria had joined the hill. They knelt by Agnus Dei in human forms, watching him.
"No, Irae," Kyrie said softly to the creature below him. "No. You failed. You murdered so many. You destroyed so much. But you failed. It has already ended for you."
The creature laughed, spitting blood. Maggots squirmed in his mouth. "Try to kill me, weredragon. You cannot. You are a lizard. You are weak." He coughed.
Kyrie shook his head, and suddenly his eyes stung, and he could see Benedictus again, hear the man's voice, feel his spirit with him.
"No, I will not kill you," he said. "King Benedictus wanted to put you on trial. He wanted the world to know your sins. I will not give you the honor of dying in battle." His took a deep breath. "I will honor his wishes. Dies Irae, you will live today, and you will watch Requiem be reborn, and you will stand trial in her halls. If you are found guilty of your crimes, you will spend your life as our prisoner, and rot in a cell as our nation blooms."
Agnus Dei raised her head, her eyes red.
"Yes," she whispered, holding her mother's body. "He
will stand trial."
Terra and Memoria held each other, covered in blood and ash, their eyes huge and haunted. Fires burned behind them, and they both nodded. Yes, their eyes told him. He will stand trial.
Fire crackled. Smoke unfurled. Mimics and Earthen whispered and bustled.
A long shadow fell upon the battlefield. Covered in ash and blood, Gloriae emerged from the smoke and fire.
She walked forward, her eyes green ice, her face blank, her sword drawn in her hand. Her hair flew in the wind, black with smoke.
"Gloriae," Dies Irae whispered, choking on his blood.
Gloriae the Gilded, the Light of Osanna, Heir to Requiem, walked toward the man she had once called Father. She said nothing. Her face was a dead mask
"Gloriae," Kyrie said softly, and she shoved him.
He fell off Dies Irae and stumbled two steps. Before he could leap back, Gloriae pointed her sword at Dies Irae's neck.
"Stand back, Kyrie," she said quietly. "This is between me and him."
"Gloriae, he—"
"Stand back, Kyrie!" she shouted, and her eyes blazed. Kyrie froze.
For sixteen years, Gloriae lived captive to this man, he reminded himself. Let her say what she will. He stood watching.
"You murdered May," she whispered.
Dies Irae nodded. "I raped her too. What is your point?"
She bared her teeth. Her knuckles were white around the hilt of her sword. "You murdered my parents."
He shook his head. "But I am your parent, child. I created you when I took the lizard queen. You are mine, child. You are mine."
Her voice shook, and her eyes burned. "I am not your child."
He raised a bloody hand to her. "Gloriae. Leave these weredragons. Join me. We will rule again. You are forgiven, child. You are still beautiful and pure. Leave these creatures who corrupted you. Let us rule together like we used to. Look at you. You wear rags now. You hide in mud and grime. Join me, and I will forge you new armor of gold, and you will rule a great empire again, not these piles of ruin."
Gloriae stared down at him, her lips tight, and her eyes dampened. She shook her head. Her voice trembled.
"I believed you once," she said. "I loved you once. I fought for your ideals. For glory, light, order and justice." She gestured at the battlefield. "Look around you, Irae. Look at the creatures you created, that you brought to war. There is no light and justice here. You always told me that you fought monsters. But you have become the monster, leading a host of them. I still believe in light and justice and glory. But I found it among the mud and ruins. You will pay for what you've done. But you will not stand trial; I will not allow it."
Dies Irae stared up at her, eyes widening. "Gloriae. Please. Gloriae, I—"
Gloriae screamed.
Smoke unfurled and fire crackled.
"You will die on the blade that you forged me." She drove Per Ignem into his neck.
Blood painted the snow.
The stars glowed.
Dawn rose in the east, and Kyrie fell to his knees, and held the body of his queen, and wept. His siblings held him. His beloved cried with him. Sunrise flowed over King's Forest, a dawn of blood, tears, and light.
Kyrie lowered his head. All victory is vanished; all joy is forever lost. His queen had fallen.
GLORIAE
She stood apart from the others. With dry eyes, she stared at the grave, and at the last survivors of Requiem who huddled together with tears and whispers.
Another funeral, she thought. Another sacrifice for our nation, our life, our sky.
The wind blew, ruffled her hair, and stung her cheeks. It sneaked under her breastplate to kiss her skin. The wind too seemed to cry, but Gloriae could not. She could shed no tears, could whisper no whispers, could not embrace the others and share their pain. Her mourning was her own. They will think me cold, she knew. Gloriae the Gilded, the warrior of ice.
Her pain was a private thing; it always had been. The pain of her exile. The pain of losing May. The pain of finding her true parents, only to lose them like this, so quickly, a flash of stars soon overcome with clouds.
Gloriae rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her mother's sword. Stella Lumen, diamonds upon its grip, shaped like the Draco constellation.
"I will carry this sword, Mother," she whispered.
Crows flew above, circling the sky. The crows have returned. Winter is ending. Gloriae took slow steps toward the grave. The others saw her approach and pulled apart silently, tears in their eyes. She saw the tombstone behind them. It rose beside the grave of Benedictus—twin stones.
It was tall and white, taller than Gloriae, carved of marble from Requiem's fallen columns. Kyrie had carved text upon it.
Queen Lacrimosa
and her sleeping child
lights of Requiem
our guiding stars
Now tears did sting Gloriae's eyes. She thought of this unborn child, the sister or brother she would never know.
"He would have been a great son of Requiem," she whispered. "I would have taught him. But he would not have been a warrior. He would not kill like I have killed. He would have been a ruler of peace. I would have loved him."
Agnus Dei approached her, and placed her arms around her, and leaned her head against Gloriae's shoulder. Gloriae held her sister, lowered her eyes, and found tears streaming down to her lips.
"I'm glad I have you, sister," Agnus Dei whispered. "I love you."
Gloriae's tears fell, and she held her sister tight. "I love you too," she whispered.
The others joined their embrace. Terra, Memoria, and Kyrie. Young, brave, foolish Kyrie, the boy who had grown up in fire, the warrior whose promise whispered within her. She looked at him over Agnus Dei's shoulder, and he met her eyes.
They flew over Requiem. Five dragons, streaming over ruins and snow. The last of their kind, diving through the clouds, roaring their fire. The wind filled Gloriae's nostrils, streamed under her wings, and stung her eyes. She blew flame and flew, like she would fly on Aquila, and she roared for her new home.
This is my home now, Gloriae thought. She who had lived in palaces, who wore gold and samite, who killed for light and glory... she lived now among ruins and whispers, but this was her home. This is who I am. This is where I find my strength.
No bones remained here. They had buried and burned the slain mimics and Earthen. The living beasts had fled with the death of their master; Silva and his men still hunted them. For this day, peace had come to Requiem. Only ruins. Graves. Wind rustling the last snow. Gloriae roared her fire.
She found herself flying to King's Forest. Memories would always haunt this place, but Gloriae would not avoid them. She had seen horror there, and anguish like she'd never known... but there too pulsed the heart of Requiem, and she flew toward it through her fire and the icy wind. The others flew around her. We are a new herd, like the herds of old.
She landed by King's Column. Even in dragon form, she felt dwarfed by this column; it towered above her. The other dragons landed around her, their claws silent in the snow.
Gloriae shifted into human form, drew her sword, and place its tip on the earth. She knelt before the column, and she prayed.
"Draco stars," she whispered. "I have never prayed to you before. But I beg that you hear my words now. I am Gloriae, daughter of Benedictus and Lacrimosa, a warrior of Requiem. Let me serve you now. Let me defend you with sword, claw, fang, and fire."
The others knelt around her and whispered their own prayers. For Requiem. For their constellation. For the memory of the dead and their souls in starlit halls.
Gloriae closed her eyes and lowered her head. "And for you, Father and Mother. For you, the brother or sister I never knew. I will restore this land for your memory. I swear this to you. I love you always."
When she rose to her feet, she found the others looking at her strangely, their eyes soft.
"It is time," Memoria whispered and smiled sadly.
Kyrie nodded. "It
is time," he agreed.
Gloriae frowned. She looked from them to Terra and to her sister. They stared back, solemn.
"It is time," Agnus Dei whispered.
"For what, sister?" Gloriae asked, sword still drawn. "Tell me."
Agnus Dei approached her, smiling sadly, her eyes soft. She placed her hand on Gloriae's shoulder.
"It is time that we crown a new queen of Requiem."
Gloriae couldn't help it. She laughed. "Sister, I... do you mean to crown me?"
She nodded. "You were born before me, Gloriae. Only a few minutes before me, but you are still the rightful heir."
Gloriae laughed again, though her eyes stung. She looked at the others, one by one, but they all stared back solemnly. She shook her head in bewilderment.
"My friends... the Oak Throne is burned. It burned years ago. Our halls are shattered."
Kyrie shook his head. "King's Column still stands. We stand in the hall of Requiem's kings, as many generations have stood before us."
Gloriae swept her arm around her. "I see ruins. Only five of us remain. Would I rule over a single column, a sister, and three friends? There is no more meaning to ceremony, to titles, to queens or kings."
Agnus Dei nodded. "Maybe, Gloriae. Ceremony and titles might be meaningless now. But not to me. Not in my heart. Not if we're to survive, and honor the memory of our fathers, and rebuild this land. For seventy-six generations, since King Aeternum, we have passed down the reign and ruled here. For our stars, and for those who died, let us continue their tradition." She looked at King's Column, and she took Gloriae's hand and squeezed it. "Maybe ceremony and titles are still worth clinging to."
Gloriae lowered her head, and her throat felt tight. She remembered her arrows, lance, and crossbow. She remembered leading her griffins on the hunt, killing and burning. She remembered the child she had killed, a young boy with teary eyes, and how her blade had pierced him.
"I... I cannot be queen," she whispered. "I do not have a good heart. I am not just, or righteous, or gentle. I am not like you, Agnus Dei, or like you, Kyrie. You two have kind souls. You feel love, you feel compassion. But I am cold. I am steel; all I know is war. My hands are stained with the blood of innocents, even children. I killed children when I myself was a child. How could I, who sinned, who killed, who did such evil... how could I rule Requiem?"
Song of Dragons: The Complete Trilogy Page 73