The ragtag army trudged across the overgrown expanse of Cruiros, a motley procession of twisted forms and mismatched limbs moving through the shadows of crumbling architecture. Within these hundreds of marching bodies, Bee walked beside the newly pledged Axiamati soldiers, Cartaxa at their fore. The Blades of the Rose flanked her, their armour gleaming even in the muted light, ever vigilant. Toshtta kept a careful eye on Bee, her posture protective yet measured.


    Behind them, Slashex moved with an eerie gait, his mechanical limbs clicking rhythmically against the uneven ground. Though blind, his echolocation guided him with unsettling precision. He had quickly fallen in line, revealing not an ounce of surprise when they all emerged together peaceably. And, as they marched, Bee could feel his presence, a constant reminder of the ambiguous alliances surrounding her.


    “Strange, isn’t it?” Cartaxa mused, his voice low. “To find ourselves marching side by side after all this.”


    Bee glanced at him, noting the weariness etched into his features, and then looked back as she realised he spoke to Slashex. The mute thought came to her that they both wore the same colours but arrived here through very different means. It seemed like they knew one another.


    “Perhaps it’s a sign that your old lady still approves of your course,” Slashex said quietly.


    “Or that we’re all running out of choices,” Toshtta interjected, her tone neutral.


    Bee offered a faint smile, trying to ease the tension. “Either way, we’re here now.”


    Still, they walked. The ruins of Cruiros loomed around them, and the derelict remains of buildings cast jagged shadows. The air was thick with the scent of oil and rust. The distant hum of Ymmngorad’s machinery was a constant backdrop, and the density of the thorny overgrowth choked with every turn.


    Suddenly, a distant rumble rolled through the air, followed by a muffled explosion. Bee halted, her breath catching in her throat. “Did you hear that?” she asked, eyes scanning the streets surrounding them.


    Another explosion sounded, this time more pronounced. Plumes of smoke began to rise from the direction of Ymmngorad, dark clouds billowing against the pale backdrop of the bone sky.


    Murmurs rippled through the ranks. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their movements growing restless. “What’s happening?” someone called out.


    Bee and her entourage ran, those in their way scrambling to part. They reached a junction where great, winding roads collided. There, the breach in the cityscape let them see. The great tower of Ymmngorad, with its twin spires, was ablaze. The great bough of vines that at once overtook it and anchored it to the sky trembled with each explosive peal that resounded from its base, a relentless staccato of runaway disaster.


    Jhedothar pushed his way forward, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. “Impossible,” he muttered.


    Bee’s heart quickened. The worm in her skull stirred, its presence suddenly sharp and invasive. It slithered through her mind and, like warm silk, wrapped around her thoughts. Her brain felt like it was being squeezed, her ears popping with the pressure.


    “It’s her,” the worm whispered, echoing within her. “The Eidolon is there. We must go to her, my sweet thing.”


    Bee pressed a hand to her temple, wincing at the intensity. “No,” she whispered. “We can’t.”


    “She needs us,” the worm insisted, its voice easing its way through her fear and doubt. “Do you feel that? You know it to be true, my sweet little Bee.”


    Bee shook her head, trying to dispel the intrusive thoughts and feelings. “I have to stay here,” she argued silently. “They need me to make sure they don’t fight again...”


    A wave of anguish crashed over her, the worm amplifying her emotions until they threatened to overwhelm her. Images flashed before her eyes—the Eidolon facing the chaos below, the silent protector who had stood as a bulwark against the darkness of the depths and the hounds that stalked there—the thought of her guardian stance over her. A deep longing welled up within Bee, an almost painful need.


    “Bee?” Toshtta’s voice cut through the haze. “Are you all right?”


    Bee blinked rapidly, focusing on Toshtta’s concerned gaze. “I... I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.


    Cartaxa stepped closer, his expression cautious. “Perhaps we should find shelter,” he suggested. “Regroup and assess the situation.”


    “No,” the worm urged. “Go to her now.”


    Bee felt a surge of urgency. Her gaze flicked back to the smoke rising from Ymmngorad, the explosions continuing in sporadic bursts. The tower seemed to shudder, its once-imposing silhouette marred by fire and destruction, even as the still visages of vast titans that held up the sky above looked on without a care.


    “I have to go,” Bee said abruptly.


    Toshtta frowned. “Go where?”


    “To Ymmngorad,” Bee replied, her voice gaining strength. “I need to find her—the Eidolon.”


    “You can’t be serious,” Cartaxa objected. “Look at that blaze. It’s too dangerous.”


    Bee took a step back from them, her eyes pleading for understanding.


    “Bee, wait!” Toshtta reached out, but Bee was already moving.


    Running, Bee grasped the edges of her golden gown, the fabric shimmering as she pulled it over her head and discarded it onto the dusty ground. Beneath, her biomechanical form was revealed—the glistening plates covering her torso and legs, the intricate mechanisms of the bioengines embedded into her back.


    Her wings unfolded, iridescent and delicate, yet powered by the sophisticated engines that hummed to life. The air around her stirred as the wings beat, generating a buzzing rhythm.


    “Your Ladyship, please reconsider!” Toshtta begged, too late.


    Bee looked back, genuine remorse in her eyes. Yet before anyone else could react, she launched herself into the air. The sudden gust from her ascent sent dust swirling around those below. Bee soared upward, her wings carrying her swiftly toward the assaulted tower.


    “Bee!” Toshtta shouted after her, voice lost to the wind.


    On the ground, the soldiers watched in astonishment. Some shielded their eyes against the glare of distant fires, while others simply stared, mouths agape.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    “Well, that complicates matters,” Cartaxa muttered.


    Toshtta clenched her fists. “We can’t let her go alone.”


    “And what would you have us do?” Cartaxa challenged. “We can’t fly.”


    Toshtta turned to the other Blades of the Rose. “We move out, now—reach Ymmngorad as quickly as possible.”


    Jhedothar approached them, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. “What is the meaning of this?”


    “Her Ladyship has gone to confront the Eidolon,” Toshtta informed him, her tone clipped.


    “Foolish girl,” Jhedothar spat. “She’ll get herself killed.”


    “Perhaps you should have more faith,” Slashex interjected smoothly, stepping forward. His blind gaze seemed to pierce through them. “After all, she possesses potential beyond your understanding.”


    Jhedothar glared at him. “Stay out of this, you witch’s pawn.”


    Slashex met his glare with defiance.


    Without waiting for further orders, Toshtta rallied her fellow Blades and Cartaxa, the Axiamati soldiers. Jhedothar was left standing, staring in the direction in which the young lady had flown away.


    And as the group began to mobilise, Slashex remained still. His echolocation clicks echoed softly as he tilted his head skyward toward Bee’s flight. A subtle smile played on his lips, though it held no warmth.


    Meanwhile, high above, Bee pushed herself harder, the engines on her back emitting a high-pitched whine as she accelerated. From her heart emanated a pink glow, suffusing her flesh and casting sharp relief against her bones and plates.


    Bee soared toward the towering silhouette of Ymmngorad, her wings straining as she pushed through the acrid smoke that billowed into the sky. The great chains suspending the arming hall glinted dully in the fiery glow that engulfed the tower. As she approached, the open gate of the risen arming hall beckoned—a gaping maw welcoming her within.


    She angled her descent, engines whirring as she navigated the turbulent air. A sudden gust of scalding wind buffeted her, throwing her momentarily off course. She righted herself, adjusting her wings with instinctive ease.


    The worm pulsed within her mind, a steady rhythm syncing with her heartbeat.


    “We’re close,” the worm urged. “We’re so close, now. Give yourself to her, my sweet.”


    With a final surge, she swept through the gateway, her plated feet touching down on the cold, silicon flesh of the floor. Her landing echoed through the cavernous space, but no other sounds greeted her.


    The arming hall was deserted. Racks of lances stood abandoned, armour strewn about as if discarded in haste. The usual hum of activity was absent, replaced by the distant roar of flames and the groaning of stressed metal.


    Bee’s eyes darted around, her heart pounding. “Hello?” she called out, her voice swallowed by the vastness of the chamber.


    There was no answer.


    She moved deeper into the hall, her footsteps quickening. The organic walls pulsed faintly, the living structure of Ymmngorad reacting to the turmoil. As she turned a corner, she halted abruptly, her breath catching in her throat.


    Bodies lay scattered along the corridor—guards and servants alike. Their forms were twisted; some slumped against the walls, others sprawled across the floor. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the smoke, creating a sickening haze.


    Bee pressed her hand to her mouth, her stomach churning. Memories flooded back—the desolate streets of Sestchek, the lifeless faces of those who had perished there. She had seen death before, and its familiarity was stirring.


    “Not again,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Why does it always have to be like this?”


    The worm in her skull squirmed hard enough to make her gasp, and her knees tremble. She had to keep going. So Bee swallowed hard, forcing herself to step forward. Her wings folded tightly against her back as she navigated the grim tableau. Each body she passed another injustice regarded.


    “They didn’t deserve this,” she thought, sorrow and anger welling within her.


    An explosion reverberated through the tower, the floor beneath her feet trembling violently. Bee stumbled, catching herself against the wall. Dust and debris rained down from above, and the organic fibres and the old machinery embedded within the structure groaned in protest.


    She pushed onward, her resolve hardening. The throne room wasn’t far now. Perhaps there she would find some sign of the Eidolon.


    As she approached the grand entrance to the throne room, she noticed the thorned vines that twisted along the walls and ceiling. The overgrowth seemed alive, the thorns flexing and tightening as if reacting to the tower’s distress. Bee watched as the vines coiled around cracked beams and supports, reinforcing them.


    “She’s holding it together,” Bee realised. “The Rose of Thorns... she’s protecting the tower.”


    The great doors to the throne room stood ajar, one hanging precariously from its hinges. Bee slipped inside, her gaze sweeping the vast chamber. The imposing throne sat empty, its cold presence a stark reminder of Jhedothar’s absent authority. The fallen bodies of that last line of defence were here, forms both broken and terrorised. As she walked amongst them, shadows danced along the grand, ornate pillars, but there was no sign of the Eidolon.


    “Hello?” she called out tentatively, her voice echoing.


    Silence.


    Another distant explosion shook the room, and Bee felt a surge of frustration. She was too late. The Eidolon had come and gone, leaving destruction in her wake.


    A muffled sob broke the quiet.


    Bee turned sharply, her eyes searching the dimly lit corners. “Who’s there?”


    From behind a pillar, a figure emerged—a Flowerbedside Companion, her delicate petals streaked with soot and tears. It was one of the maidens who had attended to Bee during her confinement.


    “Meb!” Bee exclaimed, relief and concern flooding her voice. She rushed toward the maiden, who stumbled forward, her sobs intensifying.


    “Your Ladyship,” Meb cried, her voice choked. “I’m so sorry... I couldn’t stop it...”


    Bee embraced Meb gently, feeling the trembling of her slender frame. “It’s all right,” she soothed. You’re safe now.”


    Meb clung to her, her petals wilted and ash stained. “It was horrible,” she whispered. “A monster... some kind of hound... it killed everyone.”


    Bee’s heart sank. “A hound?” she repeated, pulling back to look into Meb’s eyes. “Are you sure?”


    Meb nodded frantically. “Yes... it moved so fast... they tried to stop it, but…” She broke down again, covering her face with her hands.


    Bee felt a chill run through her. The Eidolon was formidable, but the thought of her acts being mistaken for a hound...


    “Where did it go?” she asked urgently. “Did you see it?”


    Meb pointed upward, her fingers trembling. “Up... it went up toward our Lady...”


    Bee’s gaze followed the direction, her eyes tracing the intricate network of vines that spiralled toward the tower’s heights. The realisation hit her like a blow.


    “I have to get to her,” Bee murmured.


    Meb gripped her arm. “Please, Your Ladyship, don’t go,” she pleaded. “It’s too dangerous.”


    Bee placed her hand over Meb’s, offering a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t let anything happen to your Lady,” she said gently. “She’s the only one holding this place together.”


    Meb’s eyes shimmered with fear and desperation. “But what if you—”


    “I’ll be careful,” Bee promised. “But I need you to do something for me.”


    Meb blinked, wiping her tears. “Anything.”


    “Find any survivors,” Bee instructed. “Gather them somewhere safe, away from the fighting. Can you do that?”


    Meb hesitated, then nodded. “Yes... yes, I can.”


    “Good,” Bee said, offering a small smile. “We’ll get through this.”


    Meb released her grip, stepping back. “Be careful, Your Ladyship,” she whispered.


    “I will,” Bee assured her.


    As Meb turned to leave, Bee felt a surge of determination. Whilst Meb had mistaken the assailant as a hound due to the wickedness of the slaughter, she had little doubt that this was the work of the Eidolon. Only she was so perfect—... Only she was so powerful. And the tower was crumbling, both literally and figuratively. If the Rose of Thorns fell, the entire structure could collapse. Yet there was more to it than that, Bee already suspected. The words she had shared with the Eidolon did not paint her as an uncaring monster. There must have been a reason for this.


    Bee pressed on to the spiralling stairwell upwards, scrambling up the narrow steps. Her thoughts became a whirlwind of urgency. She thought of the Rose of Thorns—a figure she had yet to meet—and the Eidolon. Perhaps there was a way to stop this madness before it was too late.