Krane returned at dusk, his wings beating erratically against the fading light, his landing clumsy and heavy in front of our home. He had gone alone to spy on the hawk tribe, the home he and Alara had fled from, the place Rina had stolen from them. From the moment he touched down, we knew what he had witnessed had been worse than he expected. His body trembled with a rage so deep it seemed to radiate from him in waves, his eyes were red and wild, and his claws left gouges in the earth where he had landed.
Alara rushed to him, her hands reaching for his face. "What did you see? What is happening there now?"
He looked at her, his jaw working, his throat moving as he struggled to speak. "It is worse," he whispered. "Worse than when we left. She has turned it into a nightmare."
"Come inside the house, then you can tell us what you saw," I said, stepping forward. "Tell us what’s going on in the hawk tribe."
When we got into the home our privacy secure, Krane turned to the group, his voice rough and thick with fury. "I flew over the ridge and watched from the clouds. Rina has turned our home into a fortress. Rowen is training an army in the central square, where we once celebrated festivals. Cheetahs run drills where children used to play."
He began to pace, his wings half spread, his hands clenched into fists. "The wingless are penned like animals," he continued, his voice rising. "More than before. She has been clipping anyone who defies her. I saw Elder Joren again, and his wounds have festered. He will not last much longer. And no one helps him. They just let him suffer."
"That bastard," Alara hissed, her own anger breaking through her grief.
"I saw the children we could not save," Krane said, his voice cracking. "The young ones who were grounded when we escaped. They are being forced to serve Rina, Alara. Fetching water, cleaning dens, treated like slaves. One girl tried to run, and they clipped what little feathers she had left. She is barely clinging to life."
He stopped pacing and looked at us, his eyes burning with a desperate fire. "And Rowen has brought more cheetahs. Dozens of them. They are preparing for war, training day and night. Rina walks among them, heavy with child, giving orders like she has always been queen. She looks at our home and sees conquest. She looks at our people and sees property."
He slammed his fist into his palm, the crack echoing through the square. "I wanted to burn it all," he admitted, his voice shaking. "I wanted to set fire to everything and watch it crumble. Our home is already gone. What remains is a mockery, a prison wearing our skin. I wanted to destroy it so she could not have it anymore."
"But you did not," I said softly.
"No," he laughed bitterly. "Because I am not a fool. I watched, and I learned, and I came back to tell you what we face. They are stronger than we thought. More organized. And they are coming for us eventually."
He pulled Alara close, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist. "I will not let her hurt you again," he whispered to her. "I will die before I let her touch you."
"We need to stop her," Leon growled. "Before she is ready."
"Agreed," Krane said, his voice hardening as he looked at each of us in turn. "But they are strong. Rowen is training them like machines, relentless and disciplined. They move as one, strike as one. It is not the disorganized rabble we expected."
I stepped forward then, my heart hammering in my chest, the weight of decision settling onto my shoulders. "We are strong too, Krane," I said, my voice carrying more confidence than I felt. "My mates have beaten him before. We know his tactics, his weaknesses. And we have you and Alara. Someone who knows that village better than any of them. Someone who can tell us every path, every hiding spot, every weakness in their defenses."
I paused, drawing a shaky breath, knowing what I had to say next. "And we have me."
All eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of their expectations settle onto my shoulders like a physical force. I continued, my voice dropping to a reverent whisper that barely carried above the wind. "We can fight as hard as we can. As long as we do not die... I can help us. I have the healing power; you’ve seen it first hand when I healed you. We will not attack them head on, Krane. We will be smarter. We will be patient. And when we strike, they will never see it coming."
My heart stuttering in my chest at my own words. I was talking about my healing, about the blue binds that I had sworn to keep hidden, to protect at all costs. The secret that could make me a target, a tool, a prisoner in my own life. Every instinct screamed at me to deny it, to shake my head, to insist that I would not expose myself, would not put my children at risk by revealing what I could do.
But then I looked at Krane and Alara, at the grief and rage etched into their features, at the home they had lost and the future that had been stolen from them. Alara; her hand resting protectively on her belly, her eyes haunted by the memory of wings being clipped and friends being enslaved. I looked at my mates, my six warriors who would walk into battle for me, who would lay down their lives without hesitation to keep me and our children safe.
And I knew.
If it came to it, if they were broken and bleeding on the battlefield, if their lives hung in the balance and only my power could save them... I would do it. I would reveal everything. I would light up the sky with blue fire and heal every wound and damn the consequences. Let them know what I was. Let them come for me. Let them try to take me or use me or chain me. I would fight them all, I would burn them all, before I let my family die.
The secret was precious. But my mates, my cubs, my family... they were everything.
I drew a shaky breath, meeting Krane’s eyes with a nod that carried all the promise and sacrifice I was willing to make. He understood. He saw the determination in my gaze, the vow I was making.
"Then we have a chance," Krane said softly, hope flickering in his dark eyes.
"We have more than a chance," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my heart. "We have a plan. And we are going to win."
---
We continued to train, day after grueling day, our bodies pushed to the limits of endurance as we prepared for the battle we knew was coming. The morning mists found us in the training grounds, blades flashing, claws extended, they drilled formations and practiced killing blows. My mates moved with lethal precision, their movements becoming sharper, faster, more coordinated with every passing hour. Even Krane joined them, his grief fueling a ferocity that made him a formidable opponent, his wings carrying him through combat drills that left the rest of us breathless with admiration.
Rina, heavy with pregnancy, would most likely not come to our village and try to hurt us. Not now, not when she was so close to giving birth, her body swollen and awkward, her movements slowed by the life growing inside her. She was vulnerable, trapped in her own fortress, and that knowledge was both a relief and a torment. We had time to prepare, time to plan, time to steel ourselves for what must be done. But it also meant that the initiative was ours, the choice to attack resting heavy on our shoulders like a blade poised to fall.
So we must attack first. The decision had been made in the quiet hours of the night, around fires that burned low, with voices hushed and faces grim. We would not wait for her to come to us, would not cower behind our walls and hope for mercy from a female who knew none. We would strike hard and fast, when she least expected it.
From what Alara told me, Rina should be due soon. She had been pregnant with Rowen, the cheetah chief who had helped her destroy Alara’s tribe, and cheetahs only carried for three months. Alara believed she would give birth within this month, her body already showing the signs of imminent labor, her movements slowed, her guards doubled around her at all times.
And that is when we will attack.
The words tasted like ash in my mouth every time I thought them, like bile rising in my throat. Yes, it feels wrong that we are attacking someone bringing life into this world. The thought kept me awake at night, staring at the ceiling of my home. I would press my hand to my own belly, remembering the fear and vulnerability of pregnancy, the way every instinct screamed to protect the life within at any cost. I thought of Levy, of Niku and Sikai, of all my children in their earliest moments, when they were nothing but hope and potential and desperate need.
To strike at a female in that state, to use her most vulnerable moment against her... it felt like the worst kind of betrayal, a violation of something sacred and universal. My human heart recoiled from it, the part of me that still remembered hospitals and doctors and the sanctity of motherhood screaming that this was wrong, that there had to be another way that we could not sink to her level and still call ourselves good.
But Rina is evil, and she needs to be dealt with now.
The justification rang hollow even as I repeated it to myself, a mantra I used to quiet my conscience. She had killed Alara’s father, crippled an entire tribe, killed Aleric the chief, enslaved the innocent, planned to do the same to us. She would not hesitate to use our vulnerabilities against us, had already proven that she knew no honor, no mercy, no line she would not cross. If we waited, if we gave her time to recover, to raise her young, to rebuild her strength... she would come for us. And she would not come alone. She would bring an army, and she would show us no quarter, not for our children, not for our pregnant females, not for anyone.
I sat with Alara one evening, watching the sun bleed into the horizon, and voiced my fears to her, the shame that coiled in my stomach like a serpent. "Does it make us as bad as her?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "To attack her when she is most vulnerable? To use her child against her?"
Alara was quiet for a long moment, her hand resting on her own belly, her eyes distant with memory. Then she turned to me, and her gaze was hard, unflinching, filled with a pain I could not fully comprehend. "She killed my father in front of me," Alara said, her voice steady and cold. "She clipped the wings of children, Krys. Children who will never fly again, who will never know the sky as they should. She has done worse to others than what we plan to do to her. And if we wait, if we let her give birth and recover and raise that child to be just like her... how many more will die? How many more children will be grounded, enslaved, destroyed?"
She took my hand, her grip tight and urgent. "I do not like it either. I hate that we must become monsters to stop a monster. But she leaves us no choice. She has declared war on everything decent and good. We are simply finishing what she started."
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her words, the truth in them that I could not deny. It was a terrible choice, an impossible one, but it was the only choice that led to survival. Not victory, not honor, not peace... but survival. And sometimes, I was learning, survival was all you could hope for in a world that showed you no kindness.
"I will do it," I whispered, opening my eyes to meet hers. "I will help plan the attack. I will be there when we strike. And I will carry the guilt of it for the rest of my life, if it means my children get to live."
Alara nodded, her own eyes shining with tears she refused to shed. "We all will," she said softly. "That is the burden of leadership, Krys. To make the choices no one else can bear to make, and to bear the weight of them so others do not have to."
We sat together as the darkness fell, two females bound by sacrifice and necessity, waiting for the moment when we would become what we had sworn to destroy. And I prayed, to whatever gods might listen, that when it was over, we would still recognize ourselves in the mirror.
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