Christophales sat upon his radiant throne in all his glory, looking each of his brothers in the eyes as he spoke.
"I do not believe this to be the work of actual demons."
His voice certain, and serene.
His thoughts and emotions were entirely unreadable to his siblings.
Even Vehylstophales—so renowned for his perception and discernment, could not gauge the motives or assume the thoughts of his older brother.
But within his eyes they saw two radiant suns burning looking back at them.
Eyes that encompassed the entirety of the Theocracy's territory, and looked through their very souls.
They were his siblings, he saw right through them—how could he not.
His holy gaze, beneath its weight, for better or worse, made them—slightly uncomfortable.
Eristophales, feeling his brothers probing gaze land upon him became over stimulated once more.
His cup of impatience running over, he urged Christophales to go on.
"Pray tell brother, speak please."
He pressed, offering a faint strained smile.
"Tell us now. Who dares disturb the capital?"
He exhaled softly, rolling his eyes.
"Your penchant for letting others dwell uncomfortably in suspense rivals that of fathers."
Mordostophales scoffed, taking another sip of wine—looking towards the massive chamber doors.
"There is no threat currently in the Theocracy."
Vehylstophales eye squinted with intrigue behind his spectacles upon hearing assessment.
"Currently?"
He questioned sharply.
Christophales looked down towards him, raising his palm into the air.
"You may enter."
His voice resounded throughout the chamber and into the ears of the sentinels and Saint standing outside the chamber doors.
As the massive chamber doors slowly swung inward with holy weight, the three Luminarch thrones rotated with majesty.
Their backs towards Christophales, facing the entrance of the chamber.
High Sentinel Sylvrin stepped in first, followed by High Sentinel brock and High Saint Ceeli.
Behind them trailed a single young sentinel — Kaspian — eyes hollow.
Upon entering the room, they were hit with a crushing wave of holy aura emanating from the four that commanded them to kneel.
Their armors were still flecked with soot and dried decay, their cloaks damp from the rain.
As one, they dropped to a knee before the Luminati, heads bowed beneath the crushing radiance of Christophales' halo.
"Eternal glory to the Luminati—may they reign in perpetuity, without end."
They chanted with zeal.
"ALL HAIL GOD LUMINARCHOS!"
Each of them beat their chest twice and hit the floor.
"You may rise."
The Supreme pontiff spoke with such serene domineering holy majesty Kaspian could barely keep from fainting.
"Tell us High Sentinel, what has transpired tonight."
…
A massive winged shadow overtook the vast, and untamed territory of terrible beauty known as the Horrowmaw Expanse.
A land so breathtaking, with fauna and flora so lethal, its very existence creating an extraordinary contrast of beauty and beast.
The same could be said about the planet itself.
Everything was out to kill you.
If you weren't in danger, you were already dead.
6000 miles of thriving predatory ecosystem where forest, mountain ranges, jungle and desert intersect and merge as one living behemoth.
From the sky, its newest apex predator was looking for its prey.
Worthy prey she could take back to her master.
From the center of the expanse Vultyr had gone southwest, where the forest and desert bled into each other.
The Bleak Threshold.
She was in her human form, her vast phoenix wings of blight and ember beating powerfully behind her as they cut through the air.
All her memories from her days by Mirus's side as a lesser creature—a mere carrion bird, were still perfectly intact.
She knew exactly where to go to find just what she was looking for.
She was stronger, faster, smarter, more magically charged than ever.
She was unstoppable.
Larger birds, monsters and nightmare creatures she avoided before, and beasts that once hunted her, were no longer an issue.
They would run from her now.
From miles away lesser creatures felt her oppressive dread phoenix aura suppressing the landscape before they even saw her.
They fled into roots and stone, into shadow and bone, vanishing beneath her silhouette.
That was fine, Vultyr did not mind, she had already eaten and was not looking for lesser creatures.
Below her, the world dimmed, her falling miasma glittering like ash-born starlight in the terrified eyes of those still brave enough to look up.
The particular abomination she had in mind was one she had come across before.
A large and formidable one.
She would be on the lookout for it and target it last.
She was not entirely sure that it would submit and obey upon being graced by her dark majesty.
A fight to its near death would most likely ensue.
Vultyr knew, although Mirus did not lack the means to attack and eviscerate his enemies single handedly— he lacked minions, an army.
Beings like her.
Legions he could command to crush his enemies beneath their feet.
For now, she would seek abominations that favored numbers—pack dwellers, swarm-beasts, things that multiplied their terror through unity.
Encroaching upon the forest-desert ecotone, she could hear a chorus of hollow skulls screaming into the wind.
Where root surrendered to sand, the first swarm of beasts she came across was a Bonehost… of about 60 Bone jackals.
They swarmed over the mangled remains of a Bleakhoove Maw-Elk herd they seemed to have mauled.
These ravenous skeletal nightmares paid Vultyr's approaching dread phoenix aura no mind as they feasted upon their remains.
They fought among themselves as much as they fed — snapping, biting, and shoving like feral hyenas over carrion.
Their skeletal frames hunched and twitched as they fed, shoulders jerking unnaturally.
Each time one lunged at another, their skulls cracked together with the dry, splintering clack jaw striking bone.
Bones and teeth rattling and clacking cacophoniously together.
Their crimson lit eyes burned rabidly as they mangled and tore apart flesh.
They didn't feed on meat anymore.
but on life itself.
As they dug through carcasses, what they ultimately were looking for was the heart, instinctively believing within it was a tangible soul.
Yet there never was one.
Once the carcasses were sufficiently ruined, the jackals lifted their skulls skyward and opened their jaws wide, inhaling deeply.
A pale, struggling black vapor rose from the torn remains.
Remnants of memory, essence, fleeing lifeforce.
The bone jackals inhaled the black vapor into their non-existent lungs like pulling breath from a dying world and it seeped into their decrepit bones.
Reinforcing them, making them stronger.
Their appetite's growing larger—their bloodlust intensified.
They fed on what lingered after death.
lingering essence… Memory… Escaping lifeforce.
Pitiful desert dogs, wishing to be whole again.
When it was over, the carcasses below were left hollow.
Dry.
Drained to pale husks of what they once had been.
The Bonehost of Bone Jackals howled longingly at the moon as Vultyr descended upon them.