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I see him as he walks.

The shadows wrap around me, like a cloak. A cloak of darkness through which no eye can pierce. He does not see me. I step from shadow to shadow as easily as one would stroll along an open road. My brothers accompany me, fellow agents of the Umbra. A multitude of eyes are upon the traveling dragon, but we stay our hands and still our hearts, waiting and watching.

He appears uneasy, as if aware of our vigil. His eyes wander and fail to warn him, and his mind is elsewhere, but his instincts are not as easily swayed. His scales are a deep black, much like us of the Umbra, but they lack the ink of the eclipse. He does not blend with each shadow he passes, like we do. He proceeds warily, glancing around, unaware that within every shadow hides one of us.

Silent and watchful. As is the Umbra way. Soon he will cross the border, and then we will make ourselves known.

---

It's a beautiful day. I walk down old, familiar paths, treading through the forest. I had led Zuro'ki and Rel'zeo through these same paths recently, yet it feels so long ago. My wounds still ache, but only faintly. I have treated them as best I could and there was no more benefit in idling any longer. It seems the imperial dragons had only sought the shrine, the forest itself has been left relatively untouched. Brave Feithiro warriors died defending their homes in the process, but were not eradicated. The dragons were far from thorough.

Making my way east, I whistle out the clarion call of summoning. I hear, throughout the forest, a trilling of responses, the melodic sound rippling through the trees. One is very close, and I repeat my chirping in their direction. Moments later, a small group of warrior Feithiro emerge from the foliage. I recognize the green-feathered leader. Tenbeak, of the Soarsail clan. He looks at me with alarm and suspicion.

"<Chieftain, what are you doing here?>" Tenbeak chirps with surprise and worry. "<The scaled ones could return at any time! You are in danger!>"

I look at him, wearing my best face of command and authority. "<I know. I have decided to return and lead us to our destiny. Where have you all gathered?>"

He stares at me incredulously. "<Chieftain Razortail! Do you intend to defy the elder's wishes?>"

I fold my arms. "<The elders sent me away to preserve the leadership of the clans. However, I believe our survival and prosperity lies down another path.>"

A younger warrior steps forward, high-pitched voice booming with enthusiasm. "<Praise the skies! Our Chieftain has returned! I would be proud to fight at your side!>" He emphasizes this with a thump of his spear.

Tenbeak glances at the young warrior before closing his eyes in resignation. "<You are our Chieftain, and we are obliged to obey you. What do you intend?>"

I shake my head, eyes locked on the emerald feathered leader. "<I will reveal my plans when we have amassed enough warriors. Now, where are you all gathered? I trust I will not have to ask again.>"

"<We have retaken several occupied villages, including the Windblessed village, where the majority of us are currently housed. The scaled ones left few sentries, and have seemingly withdrawn from the area.>"

Perhaps that was Zerius's doing. Maybe he ensured a speedy withdrawal out of guilt. Or maybe that's wishful thinking.

I nod. "<Good, we will gather others as we return to the village. Come.>"

Together we set off in the direction of the Windblessed village. The terrain is familiar, and we make much better time than when I had Zuro'ki and Rel'zeo in tow. Hardly half the day has passed by the time we enter the village square, our party having gone from five to nearly two dozen. A few of the buildings and trees have been burned and charred, but the majority of the village still stands. A scattering of Feithiro stare at me, their faces a mixture of confusion and relief.

Once again, I whistle out the call of summoning, the sound rebounding off the roughly hewed structures arrayed throughout the village. Slowly, a crowd draws, and I find myself surrounded by a score of jet-black eyes gazing at me with apprehension.

I stand as tall as I can, taking a deep breath and addressing the gathering. "<My dear people. I have returned, but I fear time is of the essence. The scaled ones are weak and divided. However, our quarrel is not with them, but with their corrupt leader.>"

I merely assume the events that transpired in the shrine would lead to a fractured government, judging by Zerius and Rel'zeo's behavior. If Rel'zeo opposes the emperor, and is loved by his people as I know he is, I would hope that they would side with their closer master. Zerius I cannot speak for, as I have had no dealings with him and do not know his subjects as I do the western citizens.

"<"The scaled ones of the west have been good to us, and should not be a barrier in our path to the capital. I will go, in an effort to rid us of the evil Shen'zuka. I ask you, my faithful warriors: who will accompany me?>"

I glance around, standing firm and resolute among my feathered followers. For a tense moment, I begin to wonder if I am to undertake this task alone. It would be much easier to approach the palace, but what good could I do on my own? I was gravely injured when I last attempted to engage Shen'zuka. Perhaps Zuro'ki has already defeated him, and sits at the palace reclaiming order. Or perhaps the others have been slain or captured, and I am rushing off to my death. These thoughts are not pleasant, but I must come to terms with the potential futility of my actions. I refuse to stand idle - even for the sake of my people - while there is a chance that we may affect the outcome, and enact vengeance for Shen'zuka's attack on my people.

The young warrior who was with Tenbeak steps forward, thumping the butt of his spear into the dirt. "<I will follow you, Chief!>"

The crowd stirs as an aged grey Feithiro pushes his way through, approaching me with a furious look on his face. "<How dare you return so soon!>" His angry voice wavers with age, the melodic tones of our language lost in his off-tune song. "<Have you no respect for the wishes of the elders?>"

Unwavering, I stare him directly in the eyes. "<Elder Grassclaw, I have always respected the wisdom of the elder council. But I'm afraid that this time, I must insist on following my own discretion. I beg your forgiveness.>" There is not a hint of remorse or guilt in my song.

He narrows his eyes at me, malice exuding from the dark, glossy pools. "<Foolish youngling, we waste our courtesy on you. This will not be forgotten.>" He storms off.

The elders are made up of current and former chieftains of various well-known clans. They're an old bunch, wizened over the years, but very much stuck in their self-preservative ways. It seems we lose our taste for conflict as we grow older. They deserve credit, though, for it was their conservative views that prevented any wars with the dragons before I had assumed the mantle of grand chieftain. It's true that many older Feithiro long for the plains of our homeland, though none of us today were alive to experience it. Such thinkers rarely hold positions as elders for long, unless they change their tune.

However, just because the elder council is made of up of ancient, cowardly leaders, that does not mean the rest of the Feithiro chieftains believe that peace with the dragons is the best option. The divide between council and people is the source of a large amount of the unrest in our lands.

A few moments pass as the circle of Feithiro stirs around me. One warrior steps forward, taking his place next to the eager young volunteer. Followed by another. And another. Soon I am surrounded by able, willing warriors, eager to follow me into what could be our own demise. The crowd begins to thin as my warriors array themselves before me.

I incline my head towards the group, smiling. "<You honor me, all of you. We will strike at the heart of the empire, but leave the denizens free from our retribution. Bear no arms against those that bear none to us. If you lack the heart to obey this order, your place is not at my side.>"

A few of the more skeptical looking warriors walk away, leaving me surrounded by nothing but steely gazes and stout hearts. I nod, pleased with the results.

"<Bring only what is needed," I continue, "but carry as much healing salve and sleep toxin as you can. Do not forget your blowpipes, we will have need of them as we cross the western plains, and when we infiltrate the palace.>"

Tenbeak speaks up, his voice stern. "<Chief, what makes you believe this will work? We have tried battling them before. Their magic and steel has proven too much for us.>" He is unafraid to voice his opinion, and rightly so. No one is entitled to the mantle of Grand Chieftain, and if proven ineffective, we can be removed from the position.

"<We are not going to battle them. This is not open warfare. Dethroning Shen'zuka is our only objective.>

"<And then what? When the scaled ones realize we have slain their leader, they will come down on us with a wrath that will see us extinguished once and for all.>"

I shake my head, standing resolute. "<No. I have good reason to believe Shen'zuka is now an enemy of his own people. They will not retaliate, and the leader of the western empire is an ally to us. He will... ensure our protection.>"

Tenbeak averts his eyes, staring into the distance with a look of disgust. "<It is folly to rely on the goodwill of the scaled ones. Yet, it seems that is all we can do.>"

I place a hand on his shoulder, resolve and determination blazing in my eyes. "<It will not always be like this. In time, we will be equal to them. I hope I will be there to lead the clans to their rightful place of power. Until then, we must make do, and survive, as we always have.>"

Tenbeak seems assuaged by my words, but they have awakened a realization inside myself. If Shen'zuka destroys the empire from the inside, that would leave the Feithiro as the dominant local power. We could reclaim the plains of our ancestors and expand unopposed, taking the rich lands of the empire as we pleased.

The faces of Zuro'ki and Rel'zeo flash in my mind. They are risking their lives to stop Shen'zuka's mad reign. Although we are a different people, they have treated us with honor and respect. They are... my friends. I do not want to abandon them.

I am caught between the future of my people and the desires of my heart. The warriors seem to notice my sudden hesitation, and one of them voices their concern.

"<Is something wrong, Chief?>"

I run a hand through my head-feathers. "<No, I'm fine. Gather your things and meet me at the eastern edge of the village. I must go prepare.>"

---

The pressure does not stop. My head aches. I can barely think. My body moves, controlled by another. I speak but it is not my words. I am helpless. An observer. I have battled fiercely, but it has won.

This all began when I heard of the shrine. The legends of Long Ren. The promise of being an eternal emperor, with a shard of divine power flowing within me. I would be unchallenged, supreme. All others would kneel before me... The western Feithiro, the eastern Serysians. The northern barbarians, the reclusive aquatic races of the south. The prefects and their peoples. I would wield my power and subjugate all others. I could not resist.

And this is where my ambition has brought me. My body is used as a mouthpiece for sickening declarations, made by a mad god bent on our destruction. He culls disloyal elements as if they were wheat, the scythe of his orders leaving a swathe of death in its wake. I can see my guards and servants... they look upon me with such fear. They had once believed in me, and I have betrayed them. I have betrayed everyone. I would weep, but I can shed no tears.

And yet, he has done nothing that I would not have done myself, had I less restraint. I see vestiges of my darker desires in his actions. He uses my servants and administrators as his own personal harem, abusing them for his perverse pleasure. He kills my kin for frivolous reasons, ordering executions, public and private, just for his amusement. An arrest now is certain death, and I know that my people are on edge. But what can they do? Never before have they had such a ruthless, destructive emperor. Would they even know what to do, if they wished to rebel? Revolution is a foreign concept to the empire. Loyalty is paramount. If one were told to take a blade to the neck, they would do it willingly, if not without doubt.

I am at a loss, steeped in a pit of my own despair. I can do nothing but watch my empire crumble around me. My only hope is that my love for my people will hold him back a little, praying that he will spare us from his complete wrath. It is an empty hope, and gives me no solace.

"Hey, it looks like little Rel'zeo is here. Ahahah!" The loud, sinister voice echoes cheerily in my thoughts. "Let's go see him! As I recall, he struck out at us with magic. You know what that means! Hahaha!"

Rel'zeo... I am sorry. I never saw eye to eye with you, or your father, but you don't deserve this. You were a good leader, and deserved the love of your subjects. Not like me. I have only killed, and killed some more, in my quest for absolute power. My actions have done nothing to further the empire. I am nothing, and now, in my folly, I will bring my people down to nothing.

I would weep, but I can shed no tears.

---

I stare at the shelves that had once contained row after row of carefully mixed elixir. Now, most of the vials lay broken on the floor, their fluids having dried up on the thin wooden boards. Only a couple containers survived the attack. Nobody has been here to clean up or replenish the stores yet. A shame; our alchemy can produce many powerful effects, and I had hoped to bring a few of the more potent mixtures with me. I take the only remaining elixir that might prove useful, slipping a vial of iridescent blue liquid into my pouch. Trance toxin, made from blended duskpetal and sun serpent venom. It acts as a powerful paralyzing agent, while causing wild and vivid hallucinations. It's also known as the spiritwalk toxin, since it's the closest thing to an out-of-body experience you can get, akin to a very clear and very powerful dream.

The floor creaks behind me and I spin around, coming face to face with Bloodfeather. He glares at me, the corners of his mouth bending his beak into a sly grin.

"<So you're finally leading us into the heart of our enemies? It is about time. You may yet redeem yourself in the eyes of the Cloudclaw.>"

I narrow my eyes at his tone. I remember the way he treated Zuro'ki. How he tried to force himself on the helpless, captive dragon. I never did punish him suitably for that. And now I can.

"<You and your clansmen are to remain here and safeguard the village.>" I say this with as condescending a song as I can muster.

His expression turns from sly to surprised, then quickly to anger. "<Y-you would deny me my chance to strike at our foes?>"

My gaze is unflinching. I stare down at him from the heights of my authority. "<I am Grand Chieftain, and my word is law. I expect you to obey.>"

He clenches his fists, song trembling with rage. "<You... fool! Do not think your activities with your scaled friends went unobserved! Your idiotic friendship with them disgusts me. I will spill their blood in due time; YOU will not hold back my wrath.>"

"<Silence!>" I raise my voice. "<Begone, Bloodfeather, and take your venomous tongue with you.>"

Livid, he storms out of the hut, the walls trembling from a slam of his fist as he exits. He deserves no less for his behavior. Bloodfeather is a loyal Feithiro, but he has vocally disagreed with my leadership from the very beginning. He is in the discontented minority, so I do not fear his retribution. If he were to disobey me, he would simply be subject to further discipline. I cannot physically hurt him as punishment - our creed forbids such base and harmful acts - but I have denied him of the one thing he strives for; an invasion of dragon lands. I do not know the source of his xenophobic hostility. It could be any number of reasons, from ancient hatreds, to simple resentment of their superiority. It hardly matters, now.

Another figure appears in the doorway, this one embodying tranquility, rather than the hostility of Bloodfeather.

"<Razor, is it true? You are striking into dragon lands?>"

I stare at the slim, feminine figure. Ashair, the female apothecary and witchdoctor of the Windblessed. The ashen grey feathers of her namesake shine dully in the sun, the light seemingly absorbed by her soft, silken body. Her dark eyes gaze into my own, glowing with unconcealed concern.

"<Yes, Ash...>" I pause.

"<Razor. I am coming with you.>" Her song echoes with resolve.

"<Ash, you can't. We can't have both the Chief and apothecary away from the village. Who will guide our people?>"

"<My apprentice can handle it. I have taught him well.>" Her serious tone melts into playful condescension as she sends a charming smile my way. "<I will not be swayed, Razor.>" She's right, I won't be able to change her mind. I've known her long enough to know when she's set in her decisions.

I respect her resolve. Ashair is a good apothecary and her knowledge of herbs and elixirs is vast, though that is usually expected from those in such a role. Apothecaries generally serve as second in command in a clan, though most tend to treat them as co-leaders instead since they are seen as wise and level-headed. Ashair herself typically defers to my judgement, except in cases where she wishes to deviate from my predictable, even-handed decisions.

Only a single apothecary is officially allowed at one time, but they may take and instruct as many apprentices as they wish. Such mentorships are eagerly sought, due to the knowledge and prestige that comes with it. Our alchemic recipes and methods are passed down by word of mouth; the written form of our language is too crude and primitive to serve such a purpose. That is one thing I envy of the dragons: they have such a beautiful, flowing script. Draconic is a fascinating language, and I am glad I had the opportunity to learn it during my youth. Bloodfeather had the same opportunity and he took it, presumably so he could fling insults at them as he slew them.

Alchemic knowledge is typically left to the apothecaries, with active warriors only being educated in the most relevant and easily-made salves and toxins. If I did not become Chief, I would have been an apothecary. My interest in exploring the power hidden in nature has taken a backseat to my responsibilities. Ash has shared much of her knowledge with me, but it feels as if we've only scratched the surface.

I snap away from my musing. Ash is still smiling at me from the doorway, that particular, playful grin that she always gets when she's around me. Her feelings towards me are as plain as day, but I have always found myself unable to accept her advances. I... don't know why. Out of a sense of respect, maybe? I think of her more as a sister than a lover.

Before I can react, she is standing next to me, gazing coyly into my eyes while wearing the same, playful grin.

"<I was worried I'd never see you again.>" Her words ring false, and she knows it. Maybe she knew I would return. Her face inches closer to mine. "<You never said goodbye.>"

I feel her breath on me and I tense up, taking a short step back. She pursues me with a step of her own, keeping close to me and placing her hands on my exposed belly as if to hold me in place. Crooning, she runs her fingers through my bare feathers. My breath catches in my throat.

"<Ash... please.>" I shy away from her touch.

She pulls her hands back, a familiar look of disappointment on her face.

"<I care for you so much, Razor. I wish you would let me express it.>" Her tone is soft, but pleading.

Hesitantly, I place a hand on her head and stroke her short comb of feathers. "<I'm sorry, Ash. I'm... just not ready for that.>"

"<Not ready?>" Comes her indignant response, her attitude blossoming into frustration. "<I know what you get up to behind closed doors. You mate with your scaled friends without a second thought, and you say you are not ready for me?>"

"<Ash, I...>"

She sighs, folding her arms and turning away from me. I hate to see her feelings hurt like this, but she never seems to realize that I don't desire her in that way. Or maybe she believes she can change that, with time and persistence.

Stepping up behind her, I slide my arms around her body, pulling her close. This gentle intimacy is pleasant, but I am always afraid to see it go any further. I am unsure why I never hit this barrier when I am with others. Sex with any other is easy and comes naturally to me, but to imagine myself with Ash... I feel like it is something I should avoid. Out of fear? Shame? Am I incapable of loving her the way she loves me? It seems only my subconscious knows.

"<Forgive me, Ash.>" I can find no other soothing words, so I simply hold her to me tightly. She says nothing, her head angled towards the ground. I'm sorry Ash, I truly am. I do not know what I can tell you to make you feel better.

She spins around in my arms, gently returning my embrace. No wandering hands, no coy glances. Just a simple hug. We stand in the hut, holding each other for some time. Our minds whirl with words that remain unsaid.

Our quiet embrace is interrupted by a knock at the entrance. We pull away from each other just as Tenbeak enters the room.

"<Chief. Apothecary.>" He salutes both of us respectfully. "<The warriors are anxious to depart. Are you ready?>"

I clear my throat, straightening myself up. "<Ahem. Yes, Tenbeak. Apothecary Ashair will be accompanying us as well. Ready some equipment for her. I will be along shortly.>"

Tenbeak nods and excuses himself, exiting the hut. Ash and I glance at each other one last time, dejection written all over her face. Despite this, vestiges of her playful grin have already begun to return.

We say nothing, walking into the village in silence.

---

I should have fought. I wouldn't have stood a chance, but I could have at least struggled against this fate. I saw the intense sadness reflected in Erun'razel's eyes, but I had no idea of his true intentions. As he took me into the war room, I knew something was amiss. His friendly demeanour was gone, replaced by a cold reticence. The doors closed behind us, and I was seized by the imperial guards waiting in the room. They held me in there until the feast was over before escorting me out. I tried to talk to Erun, but he stood silently, his back turned to me. He could not look me in the eyes. Was he treating me like the traitor I was, acting as if I didn't exist? Or was he ashamed?

They bound my arms, blindfolded and gagged me to prevent me from attempting an escape with a vicious display of magic. I would have tried, too. As I stumbled onward, pressed by the firm, painful grip of my escorts... I wept. Quietly, hiding each sob, tears flowed from my eyes, dampening my blindfold. My normally strong, confident outlook had been shattered. Thoughts of Zu still in the citadel, innocently awaiting his own capture, terrified me. I wanted to tell him, wanted to scream 'RUN!'. But it was much too late. Both him and Zerius were drinking a lot; they wouldn't be able to put up a fight.

Just like that, our tragic struggle had ended.

I lost grasp of all time, trapped in the inky blackness of my mind. I was eventually led inside a carriage. This leg of the journey wasn't as rough, as I wasn't being jostled blindly along anymore. I must have somehow dozed off for most of the trip since before I knew it, we had arrived. My blindfold was ripped from me, and I found myself blinking up at the tall, gleaming towers of the imperial palace.

There was a palpable tension in the air. As I was led into the gates, I noticed the guards seemed nervous. On edge. The once comfortable, familiar atmosphere of the palace halls was replaced by an oppressive feeling as I passed empty rooms and closed doors. The few servants that walked the halls did not even glance at us, their expressions ranging from simple nervousness to outright terror. Some of them had wounds and bruises, and some, oddly enough, walked strangely, their tails wound self-consciously around themselves as they hobbled down the corridors.

Finally, I was escorted into one of many grand entrance halls leading to the council room. A mixture of fear and anger roiled through me as I stared at Shen'zuka, who was watching me from the council room doors. He wore a malevolent sneer on his face, his eyes shining pure white. There was no mercy in his expression, only poorly hidden delight, as if he was a child about to play with a much-desired toy.

Now, at this moment, the growing sense of my own doom has reached its peak. I realize I may meet my end in this forsaken place, far away from the one I love. A victim of my own liege's ambition.

What a sad way to die. I will go out as my father did; slain by his own kin.