When she returned to Sundown Sands, her favorite palace, Antipatra realized she might have to spend some origin power on repairing her teeth—she imagined that the sound of her grinding molars could be heard throughout her ark.

Fires burned in the dark as the luminescent slivers in the far distance flitted across Voidspace outside of weapons range. Arks belonging to Leon Raime: small in size and number, but seemingly impossible to deal with.

Antipatra stifled a sigh; she was on her bridge, and the last thing she wanted to do was to give her bridge officers any sign that she was growing frustrated. She supposed she shouldn’t be frustrated, as not even three weeks had passed since her minor defeat over Urnos, but she’d hoped for a quick victory over the mongrel after her Despots swelled the size of her fleet to the point that Leon Raime couldn’t deal with it.

Unfortunately, Leon Raime, in defiance of the Storm Lord stereotype, had chosen to harass her at every turn—appearing in a flash, doing a small amount of damage, and then vanishing just as quickly. She didn’t realize when she’d been on the defense, but his arks were fast and could jump far more quickly than her arks could. Upon emerging from a teleportation portal, it could take anywhere from one to three hours for her arks to recharge their jump drives, depending on their size, while for Leon Raime, it seemed almost like they could jump as they pleased. As for the arks she could see in the distance, they generated portals and vanished again, having struck five of her arks, destroying two and heavily damaging the other three, and getting away untouched.

“And like that, they’re gone again,” bemoaned Eirenaios, the disappointment in his voice audible for all to hear. He’d turned to the small group of attackers to engage them personally, but as usual, they were gone before they reached him.

“Fifteen minutes, nine seconds,” whispered Aristarchos. Antipatra grimaced, knowing that his count was accurate. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been counting the milliseconds from the moment those arks appeared to the moment they fled.

“Have patience,” Violeta responded, her cool voice coming in stark contrast to the fires that Antipatra had seen her conjure. “Do not let this holy test impair your judgment. We would not have been set upon this path if we lacked the grit to bear this sacred duty.”

Antipatra was silent, regarding her three Despots coldly, though a raging fire burned within her. All three were aboard their respective flag arks, operating semi-independently alongside her. They’d do what she told them to do, but she knew she couldn’t impose upon them too much. She couldn’t break their fleets into smaller detachments, nor could she treat their arks as her own entirely if she wanted to maintain their loyalty. As devoted to the Great Lord Khosrow as they were, his Law specified the duties not just that vassals had to their Lords, but that Lords had to their vassals.

‘We were all lesser once. No man has ever built himself up alone; let others benefit from you as you have benefited from others. As you would not want those who are greater than you to lord themselves over you, do not lord yourself over those who are lesser than you.’

Simple morality and simple conclusions, but Antipatra still found the words of the Great Lord comforting. The universe, after all, did not demand that wisdom be complicated.

“Give me leave, my Basilissa,” Eirenaios said with an almost manic grin. “I will find the chicken and fry him up right! Give me leave, and my wolves will feast upon his corpse within a week! I swear this to you!”

Antipatra regarded him with feigned interest, enough to let him think that this request was being seriously considered. Of all her vassals, Eirenaios was, somewhat paradoxically, one of her most loyal and most uncontrollable. He didn’t cut that imposing of a figure, but he possessed a viciousness that demanded he seek out all designated enemies and tear them limb from limb. He’d taken a wolf as his sigil, but Antipatra had been trying over the past few thousand years to turn him into a hound—controlled and precise. He was undoubtedly the strongest of her Despots, both in personal power and when it came to his fleets, but against Leon…

“The pack hunts together, Rinos,” Antipatra said, and she could almost physically feel Eirenaios’ disappointment.

“You would not win,” Aristarchos whispered matter-of-factly. Despite everyone being able to see each other through their projections, Aristarchos didn’t even glance at Eirenaios. Aristarchos, thin and pale, hardly seemed at all concerned about the situation; only the capabilities of Leon Raime’s arks had aroused any sort of interest from him since his arrival.

“Many things you know, Tarcholous,” Eirenaios hotly responded, “but of war, you know less than my granddaughter.”

Without missing a beat, Aristarchos began listing out Eirenaios’ disadvantages. “A thirteenth-tier mage stands against you. His fleet is greater than yours in number. They are stronger than yours individually, and faster. You would not win. Attack on your own, and the Thunderbird would have a new wolf pelt by day’s end.”

“I walked untouched through the Kilran’s Valley!” Eirenaios shot back. “Alone, I stood against thirty Strategoi of the Shadow Lands, and vanquished them all! For a thousand years, I bore the Ember of Nor’thalangir!”

“‘On the thirty-third day,’” Violeta cut in, reciting from the Canticle of Mephilin, one of the more obscure Canticles of Khosrow’s Law, despite largely being accepted as canon by the priests at Khosrow’s Fane, “‘the proud Nomarchos had fallen, his arrogance more than the enemy’s cleverness having proven his downfall.’”

Unlike Aristarchos, Violeta stared at Eirenaios, silently demanding that he take the ancient warning seriously. Given her severe features, tall stature, and dark, dark eyes, she tended to be intimidating enough that others heeded her words.

Eirenaios, on the other hand, waved them away and said, “If not in direct battle, I could find our quarry in only a day!”

“If you only need a day,” Antipatra indulged, silencing her bickering Despots, “then tell me how. You don’t surely expect that I would cheat you out of glory, do you?”

Eirenaios grinned, sparing the other two a momentary look of triumph despite having not won anything in truth, and then answered her question. “We have been running in circles for more than two weeks. The enemy shows up, hits our outer arks, and then runs away! They nip at our heels, separating the weakest from our pack, and devour them before we can run them off!”

His words were accurate enough. Antipatra had lost fifty-three arks so far and had gotten little for her trouble in return. The war would drag on at that rate of loss, and would not end in her favor unless she could pin the mongrel down and eliminate him in the Great Lord’s name. She’d quickly retaken Urnos after having been put to flight, but when she’d arrived, she’d been disappointed that Leon had disappeared into the Void, abandoning the plane for a second time. The wrecks of his arks had been either taken or destroyed, as had the wrecks of hers, ensuring that she couldn’t even salvage them for much useful material. When her forces landed on the plane, Makarios had found many of her voidfarers—likely captured from damaged arks following the battle—executed in Urnos’ capital city.

She’d been flitting between the Halorian Cluster’s outer planes since then, trying to find and pin Leon Raime down, but not having much luck. She was reluctant to split up her forces too much out of fear that her opponent might destroy them in detail. But if her most martially-minded Despot had an idea, she was willing to hear it.

“It would be a mistake to think he runs from us,” Eirenaios said. “He whittles us down because he cannot fight us as a man would: face-to-face! We know where he isn’t, so we must figure out where he is!”

“This is known,” Aristarchos said in a clear rebuke.

“Apparently not, if you have not said so already!” Eirenaios visibly refocused. “We can flush him out. The local Strategos: lean on him to give up all locations out in the Void of places where our prey might hide. Someone on that plane he temporarily took gave up some den that he now curls up in, eating the scraps that his hunters bring him!”

“The Void can hide many things,” Aristarchos stated. “No den is needed.”

“‘Within darkness lies the greatest terror,’” Violeta added.

“I am reeling from your staggering insight,” Eirenaios sarcastically scolded. “Basilissa… we cannot continue as we have. We must find our prey. Have the main fleet prepare in a central location. Send out scouts. If they find anything, they signal the main fleet to come in force.”

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“That,” Antipatra said, “is an actionable plan.” She frowned in thought, weighing Eirenaios’ strategy against how long she thought Leon might want to delay. She’d already heard from Triton that he’d reached the walls of the mongrel’s city, but that dealing the final blow there was proving to be harder than expected. He hadn’t elaborated, just as she didn’t elaborate on her own difficulties just finding the damned bird.

Either way, Leon Raime clearly didn’t have unlimited time, though he seemed to have more than she’d thought if his city was going to hold out for even this long. Regardless, she’d thought he’d be more willing to fight or run away, and if more elements of his fleet, including Storm Herald itself, hadn’t been glimpsed in several of these raids, she’d have thought that Leon had retreated to the Nexus to defend his home. As things stood, it seemed that she was at least still successfully doing her job and keeping him from running home, giving Triton the time he needed to ruin everything that Leon had built in the Nexus.

Deciding that trying Eirenaios’ plan was better than what she’d been doing, she said, “Very well. We will try it your way…”

---

“We found them!” Damon reported excitedly, his eagerness to make up for his failure in the battle over Urnos palpable even through the crystal orb’s projection.

Antipatra sat up straight, having idled in her command throne for several days as she had her scouts investigate all asteroid fields, demiplanes, and nebulae close to the Halorian Cluster, or even those within it that might not be inhabited or show up on any maps of the cluster. Makarios had hesitated to give up much, but in the end, he hadn’t had much choice. And now, it seemed that Eirenaios’ strategy was paying off.

“Signal all arks!” Antipatra ordered her bridge crew. “We make for Damon with all haste!”

“They’re out of formation!” Damon continued. “If you hurry, we’ll catch them before they can react in time!”

“Move!” Antipatra shouted. Her arks began maneuvering as soon as the communications were sent. They had been waiting for this, and her people were ready to finally strike at the enemy that had been hounding them for, at this point, three full weeks.

The magic in her flag ark thrummed pleasantly; the jump drive deep in the ark’s core spun and hummed with power; a black portal, tinged with dark blue, sprang into existence in front of her. Her ark accelerated through enthusiastically, ready for battle. The fleet around her did the same, all of the magic in the Voidspace surrounding Relith, another outer plane of the Halorian Cluster, causing space itself to shimmer and distort until all of the arks were through.

Flame of the Mountain appeared above a broken demiplane, rocky debris orbiting it slowly. The demiplane had clearly once been inhabited, judging by the patterns on the surface that she could see, but whatever city had once been built upon had long ago been either abandoned or destroyed. The pockmarked face of the plane suggested the latter, though the debris surrounding the plane fortunately wasn’t so dense as to impair fleet maneuvers.

And above the plane, she could see several hundred of Leon Raime’s arrowhead-shaped arks, glimmering in the light of the stars. There wasn’t much light around the plane, but the upjumped sparrow’s arks were still plain to see, especially as her ark’s sensor enchantments swept the region.

‘They’re not even trying to hide?’ she thought with some confusion. This was clearly not their entire fleet, especially since Storm Herald wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She briefly wondered if they were going to try and seize other parts of the Halorian Cluster using this fleet element as a distraction, but she almost audibly scoffed at the mere idea. She had the strength to retake anything Leon tried to steal. She didn’t even care that much for the cluster itself; if he thought that going behind her back to take a plane or two while she hammered this detachment would win him anything, then she welcomed him to try.

Unfortunately, much of the rest of her fleet emerged out of formation, her jump drives leaving them somewhat scattered. Despite this, the enemy arks hardly even moved. They didn’t have much time to do anything, but she expected them to at least take a better position—as they were, they were positioned perpendicular to Antipatra’s arks, presenting larger targets while keeping their main cannons pointed away from her fleet.

“Get in formation!” Antipatra barked, her impatience spiking. She wasn’t going to pretend she knew the mind of a mongrel descended from animals, but no matter what, these arks weren’t getting away. “Order Violeta to keep an eye on our surroundings! This may be some kind of trap!”

Tensions were already high on the bridge, but at the mention of a trap, they ratcheted up even further. Still, Antipatra could sense that her crew was ready to take their bloody vengeance for the battle over Urnos. Their enemy was going to learn the wrath of humanity…

Antipatra’s arks tightened their formation, ensuring that they fully surrounded the enemy detachment like a lid over a pan. They would be crushed between her fleet and the demiplane, unable to escape.

With Violeta’s arks watching their back, Antipatra ordered the attack to commence the moment they were within weapons range. Magic had already been building within her flag ark, and fire poured from the prow in a great stream. Thousands of other weapon systems also let loose, until it seemed like a sea of fire had come crashing down upon the demiplane.

Leon Raime’s arks finally began to move, but by then, it was too late; they were enveloped in fire, and the sheer concentrated power of thousands of arks concentrating on only a few hundred blinded the ark’s sensor enchantments. Smiling with satisfaction, Antipatra projected her magic senses to inspect the damage they’d done. The enemy arks hadn’t even managed to get a shot off, and if the lack of response amidst the flame was any indication, they were utterly destroyed by the power of her fleet.

But as the fire dissipated, she realized that the arks were still there. They hardly looked affected by the fire—her heart almost stopped as she realized what happened.

“An illusion!” she shouted. “All arks on alert!”

She’d barely voiced her order before thousands of magical signatures flared behind her fleet—Leon Raime’s fleet appeared, portals spitting them out in perfect formation. They’d appeared right on top of Violeta’s fleet and fired their weapons without warning. Lightning flashed in the Void, many of Leon’s arks firing practically point-blank. Despite their readiness, Violeta’s arks were as outnumbered as Leon’s illusory arks had been, and their formation immediately shattered as carriers and dreadnoughts were targeted most heavily.

A flash of black and blue drew Antipatra’s attention as Flame of the Mountain ponderously turned, as did the rest of her fleet—Violeta’s flag ark, a carrier larger than any other even in Antipatra’s fleet, was ripped apart by a spatial distortion. Antipatra watched in horror as the enormous ark almost immediately exploded, the magic power in the ruptured magic circuits detonating as spatial cracks spread through hull plating.

And she saw him, Leon himself, armored and with his terrible bow in hand, already readying another magical arrow.

“Turn!” she roared. “Turn now! NOW!”

As much as she shouted, there wasn’t much she could do. Violeta had done as ordered and watched their back, but in doing so, her detachment had been somewhat left behind, putting minutes of distance between her and the rest of the fleet—and those minutes dragged as Antipatra’s arks did their best to turn around as quickly as they could without shearing their own arks in half from the momentum and without breaking their formation, but with every passing second, another of Violeta’s arks was lost.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her fleet had turned. She opened her mouth to order them to advance, but suddenly, her ark was rocked by a dark explosion. She felt the magic ripple through the ark’s frame, and when it hit her, her vision swam as if someone reached into her skull and squeezed her brain. She went limp, falling out of her command throne and nearly being thrown back into her soul realm. Through the pain and sudden weakness, she could see her bridge crew doubled over their control consoles or twitching on the floor, leaking blood from their eyes and noses.

She could barely think through the mind-shattering pain, but she still wondered what was happening throughout the rest of her ark, given that the bridge was the most heavily-warded part of Flame of the Mountain.

She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even scream, but she certainly tried as she felt foreign magic creep through her body like a parasite. Everything it touched flared with indescribable pain, and it kept moving closer to her soul realm… She called upon all of her power to resist, but only once she began channeling origin power did she make any progress. It cut through that foreign magic easily—easily enough that she probably would’ve found success with her regular magic if she’d kept at it long enough—and rushed through her body, banishing all hints of that fell power wherever it lay.

After a few seconds, the pain faded, and she was able to weakly climb back into the command throne. Many of her ark’s systems were disrupted by the explosion, but as some of the more powerful members of her bridge crew pulled themselves together—others remaining where they lay, either moaning in continued pain or remaining deathly still—and reset the enchantments, she was able to get a good look outside.

Much of the formation had been disrupted, and without further orders, Eirenaios had kept up the attack, but Aristarchos had halted in place. About half of her fleet followed Aristarchos while the other half charged alongside Eirenaios. Unfortunately, about three hundred of her arks had apparently been disabled by whatever that explosion was that assaulted her mind and nearly reached into her soul realm, leaving gaping holes in her formation that only grew as the fleet was pulled in half by her Despots.

Further out, Violeta’s fleet was ravaged, but in an enviable display of maneuverability, Leon Raime’s arks turned and accelerated hard back into the black of the Void. The sheer violence of their assault had kept them from sustaining many destroyed arks, and those that they were forced to leave behind soon detonated after ejecting hundreds of small escape vessels. Those escape vessels tore after the rest of the fleet and were rapidly picked up by transports launched from their carriers.

As she helplessly watched them leave, able to do nothing but uselessly mash the control glyph for Flame of the Mountain’s communications, she realized that even Leon Raime’s largest ark was faster than any of Eirenaios’, and that her Despot wasn’t going to catch up. Aristarchos had passed on the decision to pursue as soon as those explosions ripped through her formation, and Violeta was…

Antipatra began grinding her teeth again, helpless as she watched Leon and his fleet vanish into the Void as minutes dragged into an hour, having just delivered to her a defeat that was going to be damned hard to recover from.