Now convinced of the Seeds’ departures, Mari returned to the outside. She tilted her head back and inhaled the night air, drawing in deep lungfuls of it as the world around her steadily blossomed with color. Two paths led from the building, one faint, one strong. The faint she had followed here, and so the more recent collection guided her. To her surprise, it did not go to the castle as she had anticipated. Instead her hunt took her south, a straight path beyond the homes and the steadily rising heights of the city carved into the surrounding mountainside. The jumbled scent trails led out of the city and to the beach, she realized. But why?

She needed no supernatural senses to know she tracked them correctly. Imperial soldiers stood in groups of three along the worn dirt path trodden into existence by thousands of feet. The soldiers chatted with one another, strangely excited and distracted. Mari skirted the outside of the path, trusting the tall pale grass and the harsh light of the setting sun to keep her dark fur hidden. Her destination was the broken stump of what had once been a bronze statue marking the edge of the cliff. The wind blew harder across the grass, warm from the ocean. The waves crashed a pleasant rhythm below.

Mari prowled to the cliff’s edge, careful to avoid catching the attention of the patrols. The cliff was sheer, and so to allow access, rope ladders were spiked to the ground beside the bronze pedestal. Mari wondered what it had once portrayed. The Lion, perhaps? She thought a little piece at the bottom might resemble the lower portion of a butterfly wing. No doubt the Uplifted Church smashed it during their purges that filled the first few months of their invasion.

A butterfly emerging from cocoon, Endarius answered within her mind. The promise of Lycaena. Of course the magistrates destroyed it.

A wave of anger rippled through her, and once it had passed, she brought her attention to those below. A massive collection gathered on the white sands. Soldiers milled about, as did men and women in red magistrate robes. Mari spotted several paragons also in attendance, but most concerning to her were the collection of ten Seeds sitting in a perfect circle on the beach. They spoke softly with one another, faces beaming with pride. Near them, wearing a plain white robe and locked in conversation with the Anointed One, was Gordian Goldleaf, the island’s regent. Blood covered his hands and face, though he acted as if all were normal.

The ritual, she thought. It happens tonight.

Then we stop it, Endarius rumbled. Bring our hunt to the beach. Let us spill blood upon the sand.