vwritesthingssometimes

[vwritesthingssometimes]

Of Silver Dragons and Jade Bells

Written for Deakin WordArt 2020 in collaboration with artist @crushchronicles​

The snow had fallen overnight, the ground dusted with it. Amongst it all, snowdrops bloomed, dew sparkling on white petals. She could feel the chill through her boots, the soles worn thin from one too many escapades across the land. There was still green poking through, tiny tips fighting through all that snow.

Inhaling, she could not keep from smiling.

The air was cool, almost biting and a soft breeze tugged at her hair. She blew out a breath, fingers moving to thread the blue silk ribbon held in her hand through dark locks.

Her mother would have a stroke if she knew she had exited her room with her hair unbound. But the snow.

Hai Yue[1]  knotted the ribbon carelessly, leaving the long strands to flutter in the wind as she stepped further into the yard, revelling in the gentle sprinkling of snow still falling from the sky.

She twirled once, stretching her hands out.

A single snowflake landed on her palm, glistening for a moment before melting into water.

The trees whispered as the wind rustled through them, her feet carrying her into the little garden where the plum flowers were blooming, bright pink flowers bringing a smile to her lips.

Dew drops sparkled on white petals like diamonds as she cupped a camellia bloom in her hand. Hai Yue hummed softly, releasing the flower when she felt the silver band curved around her upper arm tingle.

She reached up, wrapping her fingers over her sleeve. Warmth seeped into her skin and the dragon came alive, writhing down her arm to twine around her wrist.

With a soft smile playing at her lips, Hai Yue left the garden. She made her way to the main house, picking up her speed, but not so much that she would be scolded for it. The blue paint on the walls that she passed to get to the main house were flaking as she ran her fingers over them. Mother would have to get someone to repaint them soon.

Hai Yue stopped for a moment before entering the courtyard. She studied the carving of willow trees that her brother had commissioned with interest, noting the little jade rabbit set at the base.

That was new. Perhaps Father had brought it back from his travels.

Servants bustled about, barely acknowledging her presence as she slipped into the kitchen, nicking two still warm mantou[2] from the basket.

Steam rose from them, almost too hot to hold. She juggled them, gasping as she darted between two pillars, barely able to conceal herself before her mother came striding into the room.

Preparations for the winter solstice dinner were well under way and she was expected to help. It was only once a year that she would be allowed to help cook the family meal and she would not miss it for the world.

But something else took precedence for now. She swallowed a giggle as she danced out through the back door, robes swirling gently.

Snow dusted her hair as she made her way to the back hills. They were bordered by walls the colour of the sea, and a forest of bamboo that would hide her.

She hurried across the paths, taking a quick bite out of one bun. It was still warm, though rapidly cooling in the chilly air.

Her hair flowed loose in the wind, ribbon tails flying.

Sunlight danced off the silver embroidery on her robes as she walked as quickly as she could without running.

It would not do to be caught running.

The three layers she was wearing did little to keep out the cold, but the brisk walk uphill was enough to warm her up, her cheeks flushing from the exertion and frost in the air. To her delight, the rabbits were out that day, scampering outside their burrows. They did not mind her very much, going about their little rabbit business, almost camouflaged in the snow.

Hai Yue bent, picking one off the snowy ground. She kissed its furry head and the bunny settled in her arms, nibbling at her sleeve.

It was nice to have some company while she waited, her fingers stroking the rabbit’s soft fur absentmindedly.

She did not have to wait long.

A silver blur in the distant sky grew larger and larger until she could make out the reptilian form of a dragon gliding towards her.

Her smile grew when the dragon spiralled downwards, careful not to make a sound when it landed onto the snow. The rabbits scattered but Hai Yue paid them no mind. They were used to such disturbances and would soon return.

She set down the bunny, raising both hands to fold forward into a bow.

Tengyan’s[3] beauty never failed to render her speechless no matter how many times she had seen the dragon.

Sunbeams leapt off silver scales, dancing along the length of its horns. As Tengyan’s body writhed, stirring up snow, the scales seemed to change colour, iridescent in the sunlight. Long whiskers twitched and quivered as the dragon bowed its head back in acknowledgement.

Formalities finished, Hai Yue reached out and Tengyan met her halfway, touching its nose to her palm.

The rabbits returned as Tengyan dropped the scroll clutched in its claws into her waiting hands and Hai Yue handed over her remaining mantou in exchange.

Her hands trembled with anticipation as Tengyan coiled around her, acting like a back rest where she sat. The cold seeped through the layers of her clothes but the dragon radiated warmth like a lantern as she tugged the ribbon binding the scroll free with the utmost care.

It was the colour of the sky on a clear day, perfectly complementing her robes as she tied it around her wrist.

Tengyan snorted, as if in approval and laid its head into the snow, presumably to take a nap as Hai Yue unfurled the parchment. She traced the first characters delicately, her breath huffing out in little puffs of smoke.

A little white rabbit hopped into her lap and she let out a surprised laugh. The rabbit stayed, warming her thighs as she read, savouring every character and all the effort that went into the beautiful brushstrokes that painted the parchment.

Hai Yue could almost see her beloved sitting at her writing desk on a starlit night, a candle at her side, burning almost to a stump. Every little stroke conveyed so much more than the words could.

If she could be there, she would.

But duty and tradition dictated that they had to celebrate with their families, no matter how much Hai Yue might protest that they were as good as family. Not out loud of course, never out loud. Such words were only meant to be whispered when they were together, curled up on a single bed, wrapped around each other, faces buried into hair.

She already had her token, a little jade bell in the shape of a rabbit engraved with her name. Hai Yue had hers in return, the yinlong[4] bracelet coiled around her wrist. Both were imbued with their respective magic that Hai Yue could feel now, humming against her skin as she read.

Mother and Father both would have a heart attack if they found out that her token had already been given, with no intention of being returned.

In the eyes of their clans, they would be as good as married.

No one would believe it however. The elegant and studious first daughter of the Longs, a cutsleeve? The Liu’s second child, the one whom people describe as graceful as a willow tree too?

There would be an uproar.

The thought made Hai Yue’s heart sink as she ran her fingers through the rabbit’s thick fur. She had made a vow to herself the night they exchanged tokens that she would never take a husband but her beloved had no such choice.

She was the eldest child and therefore, the heir. She had expectations that Hai Yue did not, would not have. Like her name, as passive, as strong willed as the winding river, Jing He would uphold them.

Hai Yue smiled to herself as she traced her fingers over every ridge and scale of the yinlong on her wrist.

Determination was Jing He’s middle name. It had to be, with her stubborn righteousness. She remembered her swirling skirts, lilac and pink, cherry blossoms braided into her hair. She remembered the firm grip on her hand, the strain in her tone when she told Hai Yue no. That she had responsibilities and running away was not an option.

She was so hard-headed and Hai Yue loved her more for it. Even if it meant reining in the rebellion that welled up in her like an ocean wave, holding back the love that threatened to spill over.

It had been a long time since she had seen her face. Hai Yue missed her dearly, missed the times where they were younger and could run through wildflower fields hand in hand. She could see them in her mind’s eye, Jing He laughing at a joke that she had said, her hair turning gold in the sunlight.

She remembered sneaking out of the Long estate together and running until they came upon a creek, a plane of silver water. Robes were shed, ribbons following. Splashes from leaping off a rock, laughter filling her ears.

They had been so happy, but life had to catch up somehow.

Responsibilities had stolen the laughter, the smiles from Jing He’s beautiful face. She was hollowed out inside, hardened by decisions she had to make.

Yet Hai Yue still loved her as fiercely as she had from the beginning. Jing He had been terrified when she pressed the yinlong into Hai Yue’s hands, trembling when she kissed her fingertips and promised her forever.

Even though they both knew they could not have forever together.

Hai Yue shook her head. It was Dong Zhi, the winter solstice and such sorrowful thoughts had no place in her mind on such a day meant to be full of positive energy.

Her mother would be looking for her soon, possibly sending her elder brother out to search for her. Hai Kuan would be livid if he saw her with such complete lack of propriety, slouching against a dragon with her lover’s words in her hands.

Or perhaps he would understand, as he did sometimes. He might help her dust the snow from her skirts, straighten her collar and lead her back to the home with their hands linked like they were children again.

He of all people would understand.

Hai Yue sighed, folding up the letter. She tucked it away, summoning just enough magic to stir the dragon on her wrist. It snaked up her arm, coiling back into the shape of an armband, perfectly hidden under the fabric of her sleeves.

The warmth was reassuring as she lifted the sleeping bunny off her lap, cuddling it close. Tengyan stirred, rising to their feet with a grunt.

Cradling the rabbit to her chest, Hai Yue bowed and watched as her lover’s dragon slithered away into the sky, vanishing into the distance.

There was nothing more to do now but write her answer and wait.

Wait like she always had for their secret correspondence, as she and Jing He always have, and go about their lives like dutiful daughters, as they always have.

Perhaps one day, in another lifetime, their love would not have to be hidden, it would not be a crime to love who they loved.

 [1] 海月 – a type of jellyfish that’s very delicate. Also means moon above the sea  [2] 馒头 – a steamed bun  [3] 腾烟 – soaring smoke  [4] 银龙 – silver dragon

[vwritesthingssometimes]

Between Sheets of Rain

Inspired by cherry blossoms, rain drizzles and my walk up to Namsan Tower.

Petals sprinkled down from the trees, the wind carrying delicate blossoms into the air. The sweet scent engulfed her, her lips tugging into a smile as she took another step up, gazing at the soft pink flowers that filled the tree branches. 

Something wet dripped onto her nose and she startled, raising her hand to swipe at it. Another drop fell upon her shoulder and another on her wrist. Avery looked up at the sky in surprise, opening her umbrella slowly as the drops grew in number, speckling the ground she stood on with dark spots. But the sun shone still, illuminating the brilliant cerulean sky and it was enough to keep her walking.

The path up to the tower was mostly empty and she could not help but feel as if she was the only one in the world as she made her way up to the steel tower. Her ponytail was tugged gently by the wind as rain misted her face. She had always enjoyed rain and this spring rain most of all.

It fell like a gentle mist, so fine that she could barely feel it on her skin.

Compared to the muggy city air, the air on the mountain was cold and crisp, refreshing when it entered her lungs. The bend in the road looked so inviting that she could not help putting away her umbrella, preparing herself for the run.

Wind whipped her hair back and forth when she broke into a sprint, a laugh tearing its way through her throat before she had quite processed what she had done.

Pink petals danced around her as she ran, slowing only when it hurt to breathe, her bad ankle twinging in protest. The rest of the walk was spent in breathless delight, her umbrella swinging from her wrist as she took a moment to spin around amidst the swirling blossoms carried by the wind.

Rain had darkened the pavement at her feet when she finally saw the first of the love locks, a myriad of coloured locks fastened first to a railing and then to each other until they made quite the sculpture.

Each lock was scribbled over, some with declarations of love, others with promises of forever. Some were wishes, dreams too precious to speak aloud. She smiled when she saw them, opening her umbrella once more when the rain began to pelt down a little harder.

Cupping the first one she could reach, she turned it over to read the inscription.

For a tourist attraction, the tower was almost completely devoid of people and she was free to walk around the locks for as long as she wanted, fingering the cold metal, occasionally turning them over to read.

She had not written one herself the last time she came.

This time, she would.

The steps carried her higher up and she rounded the corner with a laugh when she spotted the panda figurine waving at her. She patted its head, turning to look out at the city spread out beneath her, shrouded in mist. A breeze ruffled her hair as she kept on climbing, her umbrella bouncing with her steps.

There were more locks, this time in the shape of trees. They were rather ugly, multicoloured locks all piled up onto each other but they still brought a smile to her lips nonetheless.

She stopped at the top of the steps, sweeping her gaze around the floor.

There were a few couples lingering by the observation decks, unaware of anything else but each other and a little churro stand puffing smoke. She smelled chocolate and the scent of churros dusted with cinnamon sugar.

A churro sounded like a good idea.

The wind tugged at her hair ribbon as if in agreement and she made her way over, noting the little bench that sat beneath an archway in the shape of a heart. It was empty when she crossed to the churro stand, inhaling the smell of churro dough being fried while purchasing her goods.

She was about to walk over, the pastries in her hand still warm and steaming when a girl came crashing in.

Quite literally crashing onto the bench with a sound that made her wince.

Her world stopped spinning.

For a brief moment, her vision narrowed down to just the girl, holding a blue can that she knew was beer, dressed in jeans purposefully ripped at the knees and laughing as if she had heard the funniest joke in the world.

As her laughter rang through the air, Avery could see the tears sliding down her face, drawing silver paths on her cheekbones and dripping off her chin. Perhaps it was the veil of rain but even with the smudged lipstick, the smeared eyeliner and the tears, the girl was the most beautiful being she had seen in the longest time.

Avery stared. She was not usually in the habit of going up to strangers but something about the rain framed her, the way the girl tipped over laughing, rainwater spilling down her face made courage well in her chest.

She bowed her head, sucking in a sharp breath. The air burned going down her lungs as she steeled herself.

Her boots clicked on the concrete as she made her way over, taking careful steps to avoid slipping. The rain intensified, pouring down in sheets that made the world blur. She sat down, ignoring the dampness that seeped into the seat of her jeans.

She was already wet anyway, the rain spraying in from under her umbrella.

The girl had stopped laughing and was looking at her with glazed eyes. Her fingers curled into the can, pushing a dent into the aluminium.

Avery tilted the umbrella, so that the rainwater ran off, shielding the girl from it. She held out her uneaten churros, still warm and sticking to the paper bag.

Slowly, as if afraid that she would startle and run, the girl took the bag.

Avery said nothing, content to just sit and watch as the stranger took a tiny bite of the pastry and another and another until there was only one left. The bag was handed back to her and she took a bite, even though it had grown cold and was rather soggy by now.

They were the only ones out there now, with the wind buffeting them on all sides, rain spraying at them despite the flimsy umbrella.

She could see red running down the nape of the girl’s neck, as if the hair was newly dyed. The short strands were cropped rather roughly, leaving her to wonder if she had done it herself.

The girl leaned over, her elbows on her knees and her eyes were piercing when she turned her head to look at her. Avery twisted away to gaze at the trees of love locks. They blurred in the rain, turning into a kaleidoscope of colours and metallic shine.

“They’re nothing but empty promises.”

The venom in the girl’s voice made her flinch. It surprised her more than the fact that she spoke English, rather than her native tongue.

“Really? I think the meanings imbued in them makes them beautiful. Even if they do look rather ugly. Don��t you think so?” Avery said mildly. It was strangely calm, sitting in the middle of a storm, wind howling all around them.

The girl huffed but said nothing. Avery turned back to look at her through the veil of the rain, a soft smile tugging at her lips when the girl’s stare slipped for a brief moment before it hardened once more.

“I’m Avery,” she said, crushing the churro bag in her hand.

The girl looked at her from under a fringe of clumped lashes and damp hair and scoffed, shaking her head. A wry smile tugged at her lips as she thrust the blue can in her hand at Avery.

“Minyoung. Do you make a habit of giving churros to strangers in the rain?”

Avery’s smile brightened. She took the drink, leaning back to swig the rest of the beer. Raising a hand to push her soggy hair away from her face, she looked at the girl again.

“No, it must be something in the rain. Or you.”

[vwritesthingssometimes]

The Star Beasts

A land ravaged by beasts of midnight gives rise to four unconventional heroes.

Once there were more of them. A pack so large their bodies blended like the night sky. 

The stars glittered from their pelts, a sea of beasts the colour of the midnight sky. Their eyes were moons, silver crescents circled by black, their fangs asteroids so sharp they could cut through the very fabric of the universe.

The Star people lived in fear of them, what they called the Star Beasts. They fled indoors, sealing their homes with spells when the Star Beasts came to roam.

The Star Beasts killed and ravaged. They overturned gardens, devastated the harvest and killed the livestock, the precious sunbeam sheep gifted to the Star People by the sun god and the red cattle by the blacksmith god.

Until one day, the Star People had enough. They called upon their fiercest warriors, armed them with weapons blessed by the silver moon, sprinkled with water from the underworld and set them upon the Beasts.

The Warriors were four.

Castor, born in a windstorm that rattled even their steadiest tower, he who could wield the wind as a result. Orion, who had played with the venomous Ursa scorpions since he was a child and Vela, who sang the sweetest songs to tame the violent Cygnets and commanded the Arion, a herd of four fire-breathing horses. The last was Lyra, the daughter of a blacksmith with the cleverest hands in the village.

They set off on a stormy night when the moon was waxing, where the clouds covered the sun such that the stars in the Star Beasts’ pelt would shine the brightest, each thinking they were superior to the others.

Castor strayed first, splitting from the group to climb the Lupine mountains, where he would have the clearest view. He scorned the mere thought of staying in a group, trusting in only himself and his winds to save them all.

I have no need of them, he thought to himself, his heart as wild as the winds he wielded.

Vela concealed herself within the Borealis, the forest of which the Star Beasts made their home. She was wary of her party, more trusting of her creatures than people.

My creatures will protect me far better, she justified, riding away with her Arion at her heels.

Lyra did the same, but at the other corner of the forest, with her runed sword and mirror shield. Her pride kept her from staying, though the girl with the golden hair intrigued her.

I can beat them all. I am skilled in the arts of both combat and creation. I can make Father proud.

Orion stayed on the outskirts of the village, where his scorpions made their dens. He was quiet, and people unnerved him.

I have my scorpions. What would I do with everyone else?

Being high above everyone else, Castor spotted the beasts first, their star-speckled pelts shining beneath the stormy sky.

He withheld the information, choosing to swoop down silently on the winds he wielded, like an eagle on the hunt.

The winds changed, turning into knife-like blades, invisible to the eye and the Star Beasts howled as he slashed through them, blood as dark as night spurting into the air.

But soon his strength waned and his winds failed him.

He landed in the Borealis and the Star Beasts lunged at him, great maws bared, angered by the fall of their comrades.

Vela and Lyra found the Star Beasts soon after, following the trail of dark blood and glittering star pelts.

Atop Corona, the first horse of the Arion herd, Vela shot arrows of blessed silver, each one felling a beast where they struck.

But when one fell, another took its place, even as the Arion spread their flames. Vela called upon her Cygnets, pure white swans with beaks of crystal and razor talons. They attacked from above, plucking up Star Beasts from their pack, their ugly screeches grating on the ears.

The Star Beasts screamed back, defiant and flexed their claws, adamant claws that ripped the Cygnets’ throats and shredded their feathers.

Vela wept for the loss, and sang her Cygnets back, retreating to the hollow tree from where she had been hidden.

Lyra was the bravest, her mirror shield bouncing the light from the Star Beasts’ pelts, blinding as she slashed through them with her sword of silver.

But the Star Beasts were relentless and soon she was forced to flee, clutching her hand to her wounded side, sky blue blood dripping down the gashes in her leg.

Orion sent out his Ursa scorpions, the tiny arachnids scuttling out to hide beneath the leaf litter, only appearing to pierce a passing Star Beast with their venomous stingers.

The Star Beasts fell, floundering as they howled and screamed, in search of the creatures that were killing their comrades.

But there were too many and the scorpions were only few, many crushed beneath the paws of retreating Beasts.

Orion called them back, cursing and swearing as they burrowed deep beneath the earth for refuge.

All four had worked their strengths but the Star Beasts prevailed.

By the next full moon, they were nearly whole again, tearing through the village of the Star People even as they fled into their homes.

As if hellbent on vengeance, the Star Beasts wrecked the village, killing almost every sunbeam sheep they could get their claws on and scattering the red cattle so far apart that they could not return home.

In this time, the defeated heroes were quietly licking their wounds, nursing their wounded pride.

Vela found Lyra first, hidden beneath the branches of a Juniper tree, half-conscious and bleeding.

She took the semi-conscious girl, swathed her in the feathers of her living Cygnets and retreated to the Serpens lake, where willow trees grew.

While her horses grazed, Vela called to the serpent that lived within the lake, her melody so sweet that the monstrous snake came at her call.

“Tell me how I should save her,” she asked, for she was not learned in the arts of healing. The serpent lashed its tail, gnashing its teeth as it gazed at the girl lying at the roots of the willow tree.

“Take the caelia flowers that grow on this bank and the bark of the willow tree,” said it, lake water splashing upon the girl’s face, “the petals crushed with the willow tree’s bark and applied will heal her wounds.”

Satisfied, Vela let the serpent go, and it went, deep deep down to the bottom of the lake, humming her melody to itself.

She plucked the purple flowers that grew on the banks and with a sharp knife, stripped the bark from the willow tree.

With two flat rocks, she crushed the flowers with the bark, as the serpent had directed and applied the paste, lumpy and sticky, onto the wounds still dripping blue blood.

The blade she had taken with the girl was dark with Star Beast blood and the mirrored shield was cracked, having lost its shine.

She dipped the weapons into the lake, washing off the putrid blood just as the girl stirred.

“Where am I?” Her voice was rough and hoarse and Vela turned, her Cygnets’ fluttering having alerted her.

“By Serpens Lake,” she replied, not turning from her task. She heard the blacksmith’s daughter curse and winced, for her ears were unused to hearing such rough words.

“What of the Star Beasts? Have I bested them?” The pride in the girl’s voice made her stomach turn and Vela could not help the laugh that escaped her lips.

“Bested them? We have killed but a small number of their pack. They will return, fear not. Perhaps you could try to best them again, at the expense of your life.”

The scorn in her tone made Lyra shake. How dare she? The one who spoke only to creatures and never to humans.

She tried to rise but her strength failed her. The Star Beasts had torn her leg apart and her right side burned as if it were aflame. But the blue blood had stopped dripping and she was alive.

“Where are the others?”

Orion was the one to find Castor, torn up and in agony, barely breathing. His scorpions had found him by the river and led him to the injured boy. His blood had stained the riverbank blue.

He murmured a quick prayer under his breath, before dropping to his knees.

The wind child barely stirred when he turned him over, his breath catching at the sight of long claw marks across one side of his face.

One of his eyes was gone.

Orion called for his scorpions quickly. With haste, he milked the venom from the closest one, mixing it with river water.

The river was called Voitheia and he was lucky that he had found him there, for when mixed with Ursa venom, it was a very potent healing elixir.

Potent as it was, it would never erase the scars that Castor had sustained, nor would it bring back the eye that he lost.

Cradling the injured boy, he made a bed by the river bank.

It would be long before he would wake again.

The crashing through the undergrowth startled him and he whipped out his long knife, ready to fight for he could not flee. Not with an injured boy lying defenceless by the river.

Orion might scorn humans for his scorpions but he was not quite so heartless enough to leave someone to die.

His blade was not needed, fortunately, as two girls came stumbling through the trees, the darker haired one leaning heavily on the other.

“The Star Beasts will rise again. They have already risen once,” Vela panted as Lyra collapsed onto the riverbank, her breaths coming out in stuttered gasps.

Orion’s eyes clouded immediately with concern. The Star Beasts rose every three phases of the moon and the full moon had only just passed them by.

“We cannot defeat them alone,” he replied somberly.

Those were words none of them wished to hear, for they were all so convinced in their own power that they had grown complacent.

There was proof of it in Castor’s missing eye, Lyra’s permanent limp and the reduced flock and nest of Cygnets and scorpions.

“What shall we do then? We cannot return to the town in failure,” Vela asked.

“Together,” the word was spat as if it was poison in his mouth and they turned to see Castor awake, in his wretched state.

He dragged himself upright, wincing as Orion knelt to hold him.

“The Star Beasts are strong because they are a pack. They move as one. When one falls another takes its place. No one person can penetrate such a pack.”

His lips were twisted in disgust even as he said his next words carefully.

“We must work as one, if we are to defeat the beasts.”

There was silence as the others mulled over his words, strange ones coming from one with a heart as wild as his.

“I can make a web,” Lyra began hesitantly, her fingers twitching. “A web when sprung, large enough to contain the pack.”

“If they were contained, bound into one place against each other,” Vela mused.

“My scorpions could sting them quickly, with less risk of being crushed,” Orion continued, his eyes brightening.

“My winds could cut through more of them, far more efficiently,” Castor put in.

“But the town is in ruins,” Vela said quickly. She shuddered at the memory.

They had passed the village in their haste to reach their party and the Star Beasts had laid waste to it, with their asteroid fangs and adamant claws.

“Better to leave it in ruins now than to rebuild it twice,” Orion muttered.

“But the sheep-,” Vela protested and Lyra’s face hardened.

“And the cattle.”

“The gods will be angry with us,” Castor murmured as he turned his face to the heavens. The dim light of the moon filtering through the trees struck his one remaining grey eye and he murmured a prayer to the wind god who had given him his powers.

“Salvage the cattle, a ruined town will give the Star Beasts no temptation,” Vela said, for she hated to see any creature in distress.

“I can guide them with my winds.”

“Let the elixir run its course,” Orion reasoned when Castor made to rise, as if anxious to get moving. His fingers were warm upon his shoulder when he pushed him back down.

“We will make for the blacksmith’s forge, for my tools and Vela’s creatures can herd the cattle back,” Lyra shot Orion a sly look, “you will watch over the wind boy and ensure that he lives to aid us.”

They were gone before Orion could protest, Lyra leaning heavily against Vela’s shoulders.

Orion sat back down, gathering the first scorpion that scuttled up to him. He watched as Castor traced a symbol into the dirt, his lips moving silently as if he were chanting.

He leaned back against a tree, content to watch the wind child speak his prayers.

The blacksmith lived, as they discovered when they returned to the village. His roaring fires had kept the Star Beasts at bay and the forge was relatively untouched by adamant claws.

He could have wept for relief when he saw his daughter limping towards him, her leg crusted with blue blood, leaning heavily on the shoulders of the girl who spoke to creatures.

They wasted no time on pleasantries however, Lyra determined to begin her web immediately.

While they hammered away in the forge, Vela took her Arion to the scattered cattle.

Riding atop Corona, she sang a song that carried on a soft breeze that Castor called, his prayer to the wind god answered.

The cattle returned in hordes, their brilliant red hides glimmering beneath the waning moon.

Vela led them back, where the townsfolk welcomed them with relief and they were shut up immediately, in reinforced pens that the blacksmith had built.

Back in the blacksmith’s forge, Lyra hammered and wove, her clever fingers working as quickly as she could to build a metal trap so fine that its mesh could barely be seen, but so strong it could have held a thousand Star Beasts and more.

With Orion’s help, Castor concealed them both within the Borealis, folding the wind about them like an invisibility cloak. Orion’s scorpions gathered in their largest numbers, massive nests of Ursa scorpions burrowing deep into the earth beneath the Borealis to await the Star Beasts.

At last, when the web was finished, Lyra laid it at the mouth of the village, where the tree-line met hard stone. She carried her sword of silver, newly runed at her hip and her mirror shield.

Vela’s Cygnets took to the sky to be her eyes, the girl herself riding into the forest at the head of her Arion.

The sky itself shook the night of the waning crescent, Star Beasts pouring forth from the Borealis in waves, their star flecked pelts shining.

Their adamant claws left marks in the dirt as they stalked towards the newly rebuilt village, intent on taking more.

Wind whistled through the trees and the Arion loosed their flames, a wall of fire snapping up between the Star Beasts and the village.

The trap was sprung and the Star Beasts railed in panic, their bodies undulating when they found no way out. Stars flashed from their pelts as they howled and snarled, thrashing within the constraints of their very pack.

Orion released his scorpions, hundreds upon hundreds of venomous Ursa scorpions boiling to the surface of the Borealis forest.

Their stingers felled hundreds and where they could not reach, blades of wind sliced down the rest.

The Cygnets plunged from their perches, snatching up Star Beasts in their talons and tossing them like rag dolls to be claimed by the wind.

Lyra leapt into the fray, atop the second horse Corvus. His hooves left flames in the Star Beasts’ pelts as she slashed through them with her runed sword, her mirrored shield blinding them as it reflected the stars from their pelts. Her sword brushed up against the tiniest sliver of mesh once, when a Star Beast fell dead at her feet, black blood staining the blade, but she thought nothing of it.

It was made of silver strands dipped in moonlight, it could hold anything.

Silver arrows sprouted from the backs of the writhing Star Beasts, felling the beasts with the touch of blessed silver.

Even Orion joined the fight, slashing through the beasts with his long knife, dark hair wild in the wind.

Black blood pooled on the earth of the Borealis as more and more Star Beasts fell, the wind whipping through air like knives.

The Star Beasts roiled as their numbers grew smaller, shrinking to the centre to protect themselves but the warriors were relentless.

They cut them down until there were only two left, a mated pair.

Castor would have cut them down, had Orion not caught his wrist, forcing his blade of wind away.

“Enough,” said he, for he had sympathy in his heart for such things. Castor bristled but laid down his weapon.

Vela emerged, clutching her silver bow and empty quiver. She surveyed the two remaining Star Beasts, cowering in their trap.

The male was trembling beneath the much larger female, crescent eyes filled with fear.

“We should kill them all,” Lyra growled, her right leg aching at the mere memory of those adamant claws in her flesh.

Castor nodded his agreement, though Orion’s hand on his wrist kept his blade down. His single grey eye flashed with vengeance.

“No,” Vela said, gazing at the remaining Star Beasts.

“Let them live, and remember this night where we prevailed.”

“They took my eye,” Castor snarled and Lyra nodded, gesturing wildly to her leg.

“They made me crippled.”

Vela bit down on her lip.

They had killed so many, it seemed almost a shame to eradicate them.

“They are the only living pair,” she said and Castor sneered at her softness.

“They will make more. Perhaps you should like to best them again?”

Vela bristled at his scorn, her fingers tightening around her silver bow.

“If you had sounded the alarm when you first soared the air, perhaps we would not have needed to best them again,” she snarled.

In the heat of their argument, no one noticed the tiny slip of the net, just a single filament torn by Lyra’s silver sword.

The male twisted and the net gave, the creature quickly slipping through.

By the time the fight was abolished and the warriors had an agreement, the Star Beasts were long gone, never to be seen again.

The Warriors blamed each other of course, no one willing to admit fault, but they were hailed as heroes when they returned, covered in black blood and scars.

Vela returned to her creatures, tending to the Arion, her fire-breathing herd but now she had a companion.

Even with her crippled leg, Lyra worked the forge, occasionally slipping out to visit the girl who spoke to creatures.

Castor remained as wild as he used to be, flying with reckless abandon, but he came down now, out of the sky, to keep the company of the scorpion speaker.

Once, there were more of them. A pack so large their bodies blended together like the night sky, stars glittering from their pelts.

But now, thanks to the Warriors Four, there were only two, left to wander the ends of the earth on their own, for all of eternity.