Every sound set her on edge. The scuff of her boots along the stone floor, the clinking of the metal buckles on her pack, even the soft breathing of her lover who was likewise packing his things. The only thing that offset the sound was the pain in her back. Even still, the whip’s lines stung. Several cycles had passed since she’d been at the mercy of her Lady Seromser. But the magic of the whip, and the lesson it meant, was still etched in her skin. Even though her lover, Athar, had spread salve in the wounds, they remained opened. Exposed. Thankfully, they did not bleed. This left the female shadelv in a low back gown. Better the cool air on the wounds than the fire any fabric represented.

She noticed a fine tremble as her delicate hands folded a cloak. Her jaw tensed with annoyance, trying to control herself. Nervousness was not something she needed to deal with now. They had a small window of opportunity, a small chance to get away. Her dear friend Lyeos had helped set it up, had bribed the women at the gates to let her through… had orchestrated most of this endeavor. For love, Lyeos had said. They were closer than sisters, had been lovers before Vassah had taken a Mate. Even once Athar had entered the picture, he’d been something they’d shared. Something Vassah had loved as thoroughly as she did Lyeos.

But running away was for her and Athar, running was for her daughter Aera and her newborn Isdan. The small boy, obsidian skin like his father, had only been in the world for a week. Everything had fallen apart then. Her first son should be given to the Breeders. She was a Dire Priestess, important. Well bred. Athar had been a choice male because of his looks. Tall, slender, with deep blue eyes that offset her own brilliant violet. The Breeders had told Vassah he would give her the best children. He’d been expensive… he’d been a possession… But 200 years together, and two children later… Vassah couldn’t bring herself to give up their boy, couldn’t bring herself to discard their son. She was committing heresy. As far as the Goddess Hall was concerned. Women were supreme. They ruled Kerix. Any sons she had should be given up.

But when Vassah had suggested to her Lady that Isdan stay with her, that she teach Isdan herself… the response had been violent. Being a Dire Priestess did not save her from her own Lady’s whip. She’d entered the Void, bore the mark of her Goddess’s acceptance… and had been whipped to the ground for her question.

The wounds were fresh, the lesson evident. Isdan would be lost to her. Her little boy and any future children she and Athar may have.

A hand on her side made her jump. Shock shot through her whole body, the tension so tangible. “Calm down,” Athar murmured softly. He didn’t lean against her, not with the wounds still so fresh, but his touch was comforting. Vassah hadn’t been aware her nervousness was so substantial. She looked at him, twisting away from their bed. The extravagant room faded in the background as she watched him. Looking into those very blue eyes, she would swear vehemently that the Goddess Hall was wrong. The males were not wild, they were not barbaric. How could they say so of all males when she had proof against it here, with her? Athar was brilliant, charismatic, and much to her surprised delight, a minor sorcerer. Their own secret, of course. One not even the Slavers or Breeders had been able to beat out of him. While Vassah had never seen the male city of Halcyon, she could imagine it being as structured, as habitable as Kerix. Athar had told her of it, and while most had disregarded the descriptions as lies, Vassah didn’t think so.

The pair shared a look, volumes exchanged. Their hope of getting away, Athar’s desire for freedom, Vassah’s ache for safety for her whole family… their fears, that something would go wrong, that the women at the gate would not allow them to run… That this all was futile.

“Mother?” came a soft voice from one of the two doors that branched off from the room. Her daughter stood, a mere 6 years old, with her baby brother nestled in her arms. Aera’s hair matched her Mother’s, pale lavender. Straight and silky. But the thin body beneath the muted gown was a mix between Athar’s slender body and Vassah’s soft curves. Aera would grow up to be beautiful, Vassah knew.

Athar smiled at their daughter as Vassah indicated she could come in. “Are your things packed?” she asked softly.

Aera clearly did not understand exactly what was going on, but it seemed her Mother and Father were leaving… so it only made sense she would leave as well. Aera looked down at her brother, clearly unsure… Everything she’d been taught meant Isdan should be away. This week had led to Aera asking a lot of questions, most of them rooted in ‘why’. Vassah’s fear had kept Aera from the Halls, meaning she’d missed out on any sort of education. Their plan would fall apart if Aera said anything to anyone, and it was repeated to their parents. Lyeos had been the one to suggest it, feigning that Aera had fallen ill. No one would question Vassah’s word on it. No one save her Lady, who had other important things to deal with. Like Isdan.

Aera answered after a moment. “Yes, Mother.”

Athar crossed the space, running a hand through Aera’s hair before taking their son. “It’s time to go then.” He swayed in place, watching as Isdan’s cobalt blue eyes flickered. He even hummed as he cast a spell on the little boy. They couldn’t risk Isdan waking.

“Go put your boots on and grab your bag,” Vassah spoke, though her attention was on her Mate and son. She was doing this for them. There were only two cities in the vast underground where the Shadelv lived. It was dangerous outside the walls, alone, but Vassah still had her divine magic. Her Goddess hadn’t rejected her… and Athar had his own talents. Magical and otherwise. They would be fine, she promised herself they would be.

Aera watched Athar and her brother as Vassah did, but there was a guarded look. Aera still didn’t understand, but Vassah hoped to fix that when they were free.

Athar passed the sleeping boy to Vassah before gathering both packs. There was no use putting it off. Tonight was the night. When Aera returned with her small pack slung over a shoulder, Vassah took the lead. No one through out the household would question her, no one save the Lady… and she was gone. That was why they needed to go tonight. Most of the shadelv would be sleeping now. There would be some guards awake, but none that could exert any authority over her. They would report at shift change that Vassah had left, but that would be marks away from now. Enough time to make it to the gate, and get out. Enough time to escape.

The Lady Seromser’s estate was carved out of several stalagmites with a gleaming metal fence around the main compound. The halls were wide, decorated in the image of Nihiryha, the Goddess of the Shadelv and the center of their world. Pillars were carved in a feminine form, capturing the dark beauty the Goddess was renowned for. Each estate competed for power, wealth, prestige… All of it centered on the favor of their goddess. A millennia ago, Kerix had been the only city of the Shadelv, paying homage to their dual deities. Until the civil war.

Her steps sounded too loud. Her breathing. Vassah was tense, waiting for the Lady to step out of every hall, to open every door they passed. Despite her nerves, the only guard they encountered was Keehya, who said absolutely nothing as they walked from the estate and into the fenced in compound. In the large open space reserved for training the guards, managing supply shipments and the like, was a carriage waiting with a large cass to pull it. The subterranean beasts had tall, pointed ears, stocky, powerful bodies, and absolutely no eyes. They relied completely on scent, hearing, and some sort of sixth sense none of the Shadelv had been able to define. The beasts were covered in a fine, short fur of varying muted shades with long legs, clawed feet that enabled them to climb and make clean kills, and with wide mouths on wedge shaped heads. Adults were used for food, beasts of burden, and guard animals.

Athar pulled the door open for her, mindful of the guard’s attention. While being Vassah’s Mate, he was also her attendant. Such was expected of him. The pair shared a brief look, an exchange of comfort, before Vassah ducked into the carriage with Aera right behind her. Athar would drive them to the gates. Inside, Lyeos waited. The female shadelv was tall. Even sitting, her height was evident. The leather corset, black pants, and thigh high boots complimented her in a way Vassah had always appreciated. Lyeos had deep purple hair to Vassah’s lavender, with dark eyes to match. She’d always said that was a sign that Vassah was meant to be with her. The two women would’ve remained so until the Goddess Hall demanded Vassah take a Mate. A Priestess in Vassah’s position should have daughters. Lyeos was a Huntress, a fighter of an unrivaled caliber. And it showed. A sword, slender and black, was stretched across Lyeos’ lap. Huntress’ blades were typically long, exceptionally so. As Vassah settled in her seat, she looked down at her son. Isdan slept soundly, wrapped in the spell of her lover. She could see it, if she tried. She’d never been outside of Kerix, never before had a reason. But for her family, for Athar, she would leave.

Aera sat next to Vassah, violet eyes intent on her mother. But silent. She might not understand what was going on, but she picked up on the solemn aura of the moment. Vassah wanted to explain, wanted to answer the wealth of questions behind those intent eyes. And she would. When they were safe, she and Athar would explain to Aera what had happened. That for her brother to have a life, they had to leave.

The carriage lurched as they moved and not a word was uttered. Lyeos watched Vassah, clearly torn. Vassah watched her son, too anxious to look at Lyeos. There was too much history between them, too much love that made this feel almost like a betrayal. The roads through the city were relatively smooth. Most only a cass could travel, but the main ones were carriage accessible. And Vassah would look more suspicious if she were to walk or ride there without the carriage.

The silence inside ate at her already frayed nerves. Athar hadn’t wanted to involve Lyeos, but Vassah couldn’t see another way. The Huntress would give them an excuse to go to the Gate, not only that, but Lyeos knew the women there. If anyone could get them through, it would be her. At first, Lyeos had been mad. She’d not spoken to Vassah for several nights, leading the Dire Priestess to consider that her dear friend had told someone, that the Lady and her escort would arrive at any moment and take Isdan and Athar from her. The relief she’d felt when Lyeos had finally caved in was enormous. Their relationship had been edgy, a little distant, but Lyeos had been true. They would leave tonight. Vassah kept her eyes on Isdan, reminding herself why she was doing this. Half of her was afraid that if she looked at her closest friend she’d change her mind. Lyeos meant that much to her.

“Are you sure?” came the soft tone of her friend. It cut the silence, making Vassah’s heart jump. Both in pain and nerves. Still she did not look up from her son. Vassah had to be strong.

“Yes.”

The weight of everything Lyeos wanted to say pressed in at Vassah. The centuries of companionship, of trust and friendship, were a heady, thick thing that Vassah had to fight through. Lest it suffocate and weaken her resolve.  There were no other words exchanged. This was it.

The carriage halted. The door was opened, where Athar extended a hand to help her out. The gate was large, looming at the entrance to one of the many tunnels that left the cavern Kerix occupied. Past this gate was darkness, wilderness. Beasts and danger. This is what she’d picked over the continued slavery of her lover, and the inevitable slavery of her son.

Athar dutifully unloaded the packs that had been tied to the back, unhitching the cass that they would take with them. The beast, docile to any and all shadelv, silently waited. The two women and Aera stood, watching the gate. There were guards along the wall and in front of the gate, women who had dedicated their lives to steel rather than magic. Women who would not meet Vassah’s eyes.

She was terribly nervous, imagining all sorts of dangers waiting… but with a muted sense of hope. The Gate was right there. All they had to do was pass through it. Athar’s freedom, her son’s life… it was beyond the imposing gate. Even this was decorated with figures of the Goddess, but where the pillars had been beautiful, these images were fearsome. Powerful. Strong. The gates would withstand anything the wilds could throw at the city. They’d been built after the civil war and maintained since, in the event the males would launch another attack.

Afraid she’d lose her nerve, Vassah took the first step to her new life. She was leaving Kerix, the Goddess Hall, and everything she knew. She was so wrapped up in her own nerves, her fear, that she didn’t notice Lyeos put a hand on Aera’s shoulder, indicating she stay put. Didn’t notice the women that stepped from the shadows of the wall and toward the carriage.

Athar did.

He didn’t say a word, merely launched into the offensive. Vassah spun as a bolt of lightning connected from Athar to one of the women, frying her. While he was not the most adept of casters, Vassah had improved his learning. Her violet eyes moved to Lyeos just as the women collided with her. She missed Athar’s second cast, but knew it would be futile. They were wildly outnumbered…

Vassah’s back hit the stone, Isdan pinned between her body and Lyeos’. Only the minute twist at the end, which jarred her shoulder and ribs, prevented real harm to her son. There were no words, no spells came to mind… she didn’t want to hurt Lyeos… never…

“I’m sorry, my love,” she heard the other woman mutter, straddling her while fighting to wrench Isdan away from her. Vassah fought that, tried to keep her son. Another flash, another bolt. He still fought, Vassah had to.

“Lyeo, please,” she cried, twisting until a gloved fist struck her temple. Her vision cut away, her hearing went fuzzy. There was a muffled grunt, a pained cry… what was that…? Where’d it come from? There was weight on her body… she couldn’t move… Couldn’t really see. Vague shapes. Vague sounds. Someone was crying. A familiar sound… Who…

Aera?

Her daughter was crying… Vassah rolled when the weight was lifted, curling on the cold stone. Seeking an escape from the throbbing in her mind. Like loud drums. It vibrated her whole body, it seemed. But Aera was crying. With a grunt, blinking to try and focus…

Aera was being held by a woman in armor, arms wrenched behind her back. That grip was the only thing keeping her up, tears gliding down her dark cheeks. Intent on her Mother. Vassah wanted to tell her she was fine, not to fight. It would only get her in trouble… Vassah’s blurry gaze moved to the scuffle, to the crowd of women standing over a figure… Who… Athar?

Lyeos had her blade in hand, the long black steel wet. What had happened? Vassah tried to stand, but a wave of nausea struck her in the belly as surely as Lyeos’ fist had connected with her temple. Panting, Vassah braced herself. She needed to snap out of it… she couldn’t pass out, couldn’t… had to sit up.

The Huntress stood close, eyeing the Dire Priestess as she tried to recover from the hard blow. It would’ve knocked anyone else unconscious. Lyeos had hoped it would so that she wouldn’t have to watch Vassah in pain. “I wanted to save you,” Lyeos whispered, holding her blade parallel to the ground. “I tried to stop you, my love.” Was she crying?

“Leave her alone! Please, please! Leave Mother alone!” Aera’s cries hurt Lyeos. But the little girl would learn. Her Mother had fallen, she was a heretic. Lyeos did this out of love. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve tortured Vassah. They would’ve made an example out of her. Lyeos had volunteered to end the pain as fast as she could. It was the only mercy she could extend to the one she’d loved.

Before Vassah could raise lavender eyes, eyes that Lyeos loved, the blade rose… and cut down.

Aera screamed.