<"three thousand fifty three dead, my Matron...and the dragon." Each of the five avert their eyes as Llyshne incinerates a minion standing near her throne. The Matron and her Hand are motionless, and their silent fury fills the dark hall. "You will go to the skyland and seek the hearts of these...knights of Luaca. Return to me when you have destroyed their angel's sun and tasted of their children's blood. Darkness preserve you, my daughters." Llyshne's jaw is set with anger as she watches her finest -- her hand of power -- walk out toward the desolation that was her nation only hours ago. Luaca's knights and their dragons will taste hellfire for this!

...Yes, my queen. I swear it on my own name.

The matron closes her mind, a vengeful smile creeping to her lips at the oath of furious Yntaka.

A quiet murmur echoes through the dark, narrow passage where Yntaka stands. The man-servant behind her whispers timidly, "Why did you not...challenge her?" Yntaka's face is like polished ebony and her eyes swirl red and intense. Because I do not want a fallen nation to lead, slave. Llyshne leads the defeated. I will command a nation of conquerors. He shudders as her words pierce his consciousness, a pain to which he hopes he'll never become accustomed. The man-servant bows and turns hurriedly back toward a fallen city beneath the mountains. At the mouth of the passage, night has just fallen and the skyland sleeps peacefully. Shepherds sleeping are awakened by the frenzy of their dogs, but find nothing in the dark night. Yntaka passes through the flocks unseen, touching none of the lambs which she could so easily destroy. The night is crisp and her mind reaches into the dreams of sleeping innocents for anything that might direct her to her goal, Luaca. Many awake terrified, some screaming, visions of a dark figure with eyes like demopns tearing through their memories. Yntaka only smiles at their screams and quickens her pace...