The pnks creak underneath their feet as they hurry across. One, two, three, down the fourth. Now that she’s walked across them she can tell they’ve been nailed down firmly on the rooftops, and the longer ones have a thin pilr pnted on the ground to support them from the middle. For people who could fly, this rooftop traversal system was quite well thought out…

  “Just because you could run everywhere doesn’t mean you would, would you?”

  That’s what Aymanah had said when she asked about it. Guess that made sense. She knew rich people didn’t ride horses everywhere even though they could afford it. Harpies still had feet to walk with, and flying must’ve taken some energy.

  … Aaaagh! She wants to ask questions! How does their flying work? Like a bird’s, based on wind currents? Or were their muscles so strong that they could propel themselves? But now was not the time! It really wasn’t the time! Aymanah must’ve noticed her apprehension about the whole situation, since she occasionally fpped her wing-arms, as if about to take flight… Despite never doing so. Was she being teased?

  The houses were all simir, and from here she could see actual signs of the party that Aymanah had mentioned. Large fires higher on the mountain- not much, maybe a twenty minute trek up- alongside harpies flying and dancing in the air alongside the smoke, as if coordinating with it. A beautiful sight that she couldn’t savor yet. She could see the cages from here too. Homer was still within his cage. Please wait, my friend, please wait.

  Umana’s abode came into view. It was a little humbler and older than the other houses she’d seen so far, almost akin to a hut. Simir to her own back in the forest, actually… How funny. The pnk leading to this rooftop was a little shabbier and older as well. Once they stood on the roof Aymanah squatted down and checked the tch on the ceiling door.

  “Open like always. One day she’s going to get robbed or she’ll forget it’s been left open and she’ll drown in snow…”

  Aymanah swings the door open and hops down, extending her arm out, palm open and inviting. Maia is a little confused but takes it, only to be yanked down and to the side- ah. The drop would’ve led straight down to the bottom floor. That would’ve hurt, especially since she has no way to really maneuver herself midair. Harpy house design confounded her in how antagonistic it was to those without wings, but with their isotionist nature, she supposes it makes sense.

  Two floors. The top one has no signs of life, but a croaking, haggard voice echoes from downstairs through the rge central hole on the floor that the harpies would seemingly fly up and down through to move between floors.

  “Hoiiii. Coming in.” Aymanah calls out.

  “Who is that? I didn’t invite any guests. If you need spiritual advice or some treatment, come back ter.”

  Almost nostalgic. She can’t pce why: she’s never really heard such a voice before nor has she interacted with any elders besides Homer during her quiet, isotionist life. And the source of that voice is responsible for their current blight… But she shouldn’t hold a grudge. Umana’s concerns were well founded after all. Maia herself would likely support the sage if she was an outsider hearing about it.

  A woman containing dangerous, dark energy walking around with a lumbering warrior? *And* they’d proven they were dangerous by killing warriors of her people? She’d be beside herself. Context changes much.

  “Aymanah, sister of Aytalh. I bring a guest.”

  Maia tried to steel herself for what was to come, uncertain as to how she’d even approach the sage. Should she just jump down?

  “A guest…? Bah. Tell them to leave. I do not care for guests today. Not until that wicked presence within the vilge is dealt with somehow, ohhh… Dark portents, this old woman speaks of dark portents and none of you ever bother to listen. Why are you squawking in this bsted tongue anyway- Geh.” Maia can hear the tapping of a staff echoing downstairs, likely the old harpy using her staff to show her displeasure.

  … It feels like she can see a little twinkle of a grin on Aymanah’s face. Do they enjoy teasing people? They’d seemed so stonefaced and collected before, but maybe they feel more comfortable with her now.

  Maia was still uncertain about how to make an entrance, but Aymanah was providing no commentary or help, and she was starting to get nervous about Umana and all the tapping. Were they supposed to wait for her to come up? Maia ends up walking closer to the edge to stare down the hole. There was a fire downstairs, she could hear it crackling.

  No sight of Umana at this angle, but she can hear her constant cane tapping. Tap tappa tap, tap tappa tap… A constant, steady source, like it has some meaning. Cy pots of all shapes and sizes line up shelves and even the floor, dry hay yellowed with age all over the floor, the scent of something musty that she can’t pce beyond the mere idea of herbs…

  Tap tappa tap, tap tappa tap.

  “...”

  Tap tappa tap tap tap tap tap tap tap,tap.

  “... No wings.”

  Maia’s eyes rip wide open. The hag’s voice carries up to her. No wings. What does she mean, no wings? That-and in that very moment, the cane shoots up and almost sms right into her jaw. Only Aymanah’s hand guiding her head aside saves her, Maia’s yelp echoing through the house as she scrambles back. The cane is almost instantly followed by the fluttering of wings as the elder flies up and nds in front of Maia, gssy, empty eyes rapidly darting around.

  *She cannot see me.*… No, rather, she can see the darkness within me, but not me.

  Tap tap tap. The cane begins tapping again. Aha. She’s using the sound to locate her exact position, using it to determine her form and shape. Her father told her of the basic ails humans faced as they grew older: harpies faced such troubles too, it seems. Although she had no clue a staff’s sound could be used to determine even her ck of wings and feathers.

  “The dark one. Why is she here? Aymanah, you’ve always been a trickster and a blight upon my peace of mind, but why?! The darkness- I see nothing but darkness even on the brightest of days, under the clearest of skies, but still! Still this *creature* and her aura invades my vision, darker than bck, fouler than the void!”

  Promising start. But once Aymanah expined her presence here and got the ball rolling, Maia was sure that they could reach some sort of accord. Between the incomprehensible barks of displeasure- if Maia had to guess, she’d changed to her own nguage to swear and curse- her eyes traveled to Aymanah, seeking help.

  Aymanah gnces back to her, any impishness they potentially hide within their mind not shown through their expression, which is as calm as ever. Maia finds it hard to get a read on them, but they eventually simply shrug their shoulders and mouth a quick

  ‘your problem now’

  before returning to listening to the ranting and raving of their elder. This leaves Maia’s mouth hanging wide open. No backup? No soft introduction? No nothing? She was just supposed to silence this old matron and hope she doesn’t get beat half to death with that big cane of hers? The shape was even made for beating sense into fools like herself, ugh.

  “I am here to-”

  And she has to duck her head right away to avoid the swing of the cane. She’d be more scared if she was dealing with someone armed with an actually lethal weapon, but this was earning less her terror and more her ire.

  “Please, wait-”

  Another duck, rolling to the side across the old wooden floor, feeling some of the hay stick to her air. There’s another tap tap as the hag follows after her. Her hearing must be quite good if she can use vibrations to determine where Maia’s standing (or sitting, as she is now) at any given moment. Maybe if she took the cane away…

  The ceiling hatch is still open, casting the day’s light to the upper floor. They’re right below it now, and the light shines down… To her shadow. The shadow that occasionally twitches, like showing its still alive. Maia’s not sure how to communicate this, but she feels like the shadow just *understands* when her pn starts to form.

  “I just need to-!”

  A barked sentence. The contents don’t matter. Umana swings the cane at the mere sign of talking back, bringing it down low. Maia herself could not catch it- she can tell that this hag has a surprising amount of force behind her swings, and Maia’s a swindly thing- but her shadow certainly can. There’s no meaty thwap nor a wooden thwack. There’s no sound at all, actually. The cane rests in the air, held in pce by a shadowy arm that has stretched out from the floor.

  And then it is yanked away with a sudden motion that almost makes the old woman fall over, barely keeping herself straight as the cane is held away from her, the shadow slinking behind Maia now.

  “... I just want to talk.”

  Umana is left gasping and panting for air. As Maia can see now, the old woman stands as straight as an arrow, any hints of a hunch gone. She’s quite sizable when at full height, and while she’s become old she can tell the hag used to be powerful and lean at a younger age. She’s reminded of the very sizable warleader from earlier actually. Even the plume colors are simir, just faded out with age, like a sketch that’s been waterlogged.

  Aymanah didn’t know about the Shadow either, so even their expression is ced with slight surprise. But Maia hadn’t used the shadow during their fight, so surely they’d still trust her, no? This was an emergency, and she did handle this herself just as prompted.

  “... Then talk, dark child.”

  There’s a thud as Umana sits down on the floor. After a moment’s consideration the shadow extends out from behind Maia and returns her cane to her as a sign of peace- and Maia doesn’t instantly get beaten to death with it, so it seems like she’s finally ready to listen.

  And so, Maia speaks,of her heritage as a child of the forest, a lone hermit,of how her parents died, and how during her life alone she’d found more and more comfort in the worship of Death,and of how this worship had eventually led to her current state with her greying skin and the death of nature around pces she stayed in for too long…

  And of how she’d left to try and meet Death in the Godsblooded Capital, how she’d met Hermes the merchant who set her on the path and how she’d gained a protector with Homer, a man on the quest to sy War, his distant god-sire,

  and of their journey here, to the mountains, to cut down on the time needed to reach the capital in time to actually meet Death, and how they’d come under assault and defended themselves,

  and she’d even mentioned her dream-like dalliances with Death, in hopes that Umana could perhaps shed more light on the situation. The whole time the old woman listens while seated, gssy eyes staring at nothing in particur, avoiding looking directly at Maia. Aymanah stands behind them both, leaning on the wall with a neutral expression.

  “And that’s everything up to this point. I’m sorry for the harm we have caused, but we were simply defending ourselves, and I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused… But I swear, none of this is- I didn’t want any of this…”

  Maia bows her head deep and listens. There’s Umana’s ragged, old breath. Aymanah idly scratching a talon at the floor. Silence reigns. The wind blows outside and makes the upper floor cool through the open hatch.

  And then, with a rasping voice,“... Egh. I’ll see what I can do for you, dark child.”

  Salvation.