Chapter 1

A breathtaking crimson being flitted in the untamed skies of the southern K’rakian archipelago.

Its vibrant hue was a stark contrast to the surrounding wilderness.

It soared over the rugged, remote terrain, a vast expanse of glaciers and tundra, where the elements waged an eternal battle, shaping the land into a harsh, unforgiving beauty.

Below lay the most rugged, deserted, remote, harsh, and far-beyond corners of the planet where one felt at the edge of the universe with little sign of civilization, where only the wild roamed free.

It was a place of ethereal beauty, where time seemed to flow in all directions at once, and the air thrummed with ancient power.

Strange flora and fauna dotted the snow-covered landscape, glowing with an inner light that spoke of magic that had long been forgotten.

Where luminous seals, star whales, and winged foxes roamed among the ice boulders and floes.

The gaze of great and small critters followed its course with wonder.

For the mythical entity was the first in centuries to be seen on Katánē.

Escaping the relentless speculations and unending curiosity of the bustling cities in the South, it had embarked on a solitary migration north, seeking seclusion, isolation, and tranquility.

With its piercing ruby eyes and majestic wings, the kríffin had been a guardian of these skies for months, watching over all living fauna below.

Gliding into a barrel roll, it flung the stunning scarlet krest on its head back and let out a cry of freedom and joy.

One so haunting and evocative it carried over the sea, oceans, and the Thousand Mile Lands.

Moments later, it touched down on a windswept, ice-banked beach and transmuted.

Into a young woman.

A dark cinnabar mantle settled around her nape, shielding her from the driving cold.

Her magenta and scarlet tresses cascaded over her shoulders like flames dancing in the wind. Her eyes, a mirror of the copper skies above, held wisdom far beyond her years.

Her lean, lithe legs moved as she withdrew a small fishing kit from the folds of her cloak.

She knelt at the water’s edge, her motions practiced and sure as she cast her line into the frigid depths.

Her gaze was focused, piercing eyes scanning the rippling surface for any signs of movement while the silence of the glacial landscape enveloped her like a comforting blanket.

Broken only by the soft lapping of the waves against the shore and the distant cry of a seabird.

The woman stilled, her senses attuned to the subtlest movements in the water.

Minutes stretched into an hour as she waited, her breath forming misty clouds in the cold. Moments passed until there was a sharp tug on the line. With a deft hand, she began reeling it in.

The fish broke the surface, its scales shimmering.

She reeled it in and let it dangle in the air, admiring its iridescent covering in the fading light of the day. With a swift movement, she removed the hook from its mouth and cradled it gently in her hands, murmuring words of gratitude to the sea for providing her sustenance.

With care, she gutted and cleaned her bounty, lit a fire with an energy stick, and, in minutes, enjoyed her windswept repast.

But only for a short time.

The draft changed direction, swirling with whispers, murmurs, and echoes of ancient tales.

Beyond the distant skyline, the brine sang its haunting melody, adding an ethereal touch to the ambiance.

The crashing of waves grew louder in response to the shifting wind.

A new sound joined in nature’s symphony.

This time, a jarring cacophony of roars and shouts disturbed her peace.

She inclined her ear to the melee, then sighed.

Cursing, she rose, standing barefoot on the icy shore, her gaze fixed on a distant point as if she could see beyond the physical realm.

Her lips twisted as the gusts carried the unnatural sounds towards her.

Hotdamnfokkinhellandfeathers , she thought.

For if something irked Liana, it was her quiet being interrupted.

She clenched her fists, knowing she wouldn’t let the intrusion slide this time.

Kaxim wheeled through the skies, showcasing his shirking skills in a thrilling, supersonic spectacle.

Close behind him, in hot pursuit, raced Kaadin, his kízínduna in training.

Kaxim’s midnight feathers glistened in the sunlight as he soared through the sky. His agile movements, twists, and turns showed off his winged mastery.

The two hawks swooped in a mesmerizing display of grace and skill as Kaxim evaded every attempt by Kaadin to catch him.

Kaxim whipped his head back to catch sight of his protege.

With a grin, he saw his apprentice slow.

‘Light-headed, you snowcock?’

Kaadin snarled at the gibe, but his eyes were dilated. The massive Gs that Kaxim was pushing were most likely leading to a graying-out sensation as his blood flowed from his brain into his lower rachís and extremities.

‘Take a breath, hold it in, bank and roll,’ the experienced commander growled. ‘It’ll get the blood flowing once more.’

In no time, Kaadin’s driven pursuit resumed.

The crisp scent of fresh air and the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest filled Kaxim’s nostrils as he raced through the vault.

Fokk! This was the best of highs, Kaxim thought to himself.

As he darted and weaved, he caught the occasional brush of Kaadin’s claws.

‘Good,’ he shouted out. ‘I need you to be more driven and aggressive. Attack while still processing the battle space around you, making tactical decisions, and maintaining formation.’

Still, Kaadin was no match for Kaxim’s streamlined, power-jacked body and rachís . The kínduna was the very embodiment of freedom and agility in flight.

He flexed with each twist and turn, his whipped frame responding to the air currents.

Below them, whooping and cheering on the kízínduna was an aerie of trainee Sāb?r Hawks, in training to certify as Klós K’lia , the elite wings of the Katánian army.

Kaxim grinned.

There’d soon be less laughter and more groaning at the Sāb?r Hawk Survival camp this evening.

He was proud of his initiative, a four-week schedule of unhindered, realistic, and challenging warfighting skills training.

His instruction trained the body to get used to the heat, sun, gusting winds, and dryness. There was also a focus on Katánē’s desert hazards, from giant rattlesnakes and vipers to scorpions and specters that went boo in the night.

So far, they’d camped on Mount Karth, working on technical flying and survival in snow-topped mountainous environments.

Now, he’d tracked with the Klós cadets south to the Korcha River, which formed the border of the Thousand Mile Lands and the southern Ilki Sovereignty.

They’d set up camp in its wilderness, where they could prepare unseen and unrestricted.

Here, Kaxim was focused on air elusion and speed flying, and soon, he’d be doubling down on endurance, resistance, and escape skills—the core competencies required in a combat zone when evading the enemy.

It all ended with seven nights on the edge of River Korcha, during which the kujāas survived on their own. With nothing but their koyas , water sacs, and wings on their backs. Slogging through the muddy and tangled terrain to avoid being tagged by an aerie of experienced Imperial Sāb?r Hawk Ka ?? m ? ?r? hunters.

Captured kujāas were placed into an improvised POW camp, and the instructors interrogated them to test their ‘resistance’ skills.

Those who graduated, less than one out of ten, were awarded a pure gold Sāb?r Hawk engraved koya signed by the Kíríga himself and were inducted into the prestigious Klós legion.

Kaxim’s pinions sliced through the sky with precision and fluidity, while Kaadin’s unceasing chase added a thrilling element of danger to the performance.

The Klós cadets were going wild by this stage, roaring at the top of their voices. Caught up in the breathtaking sights, the embodiment of freedom and mastery over the elements, a reminder of the beauty and strength in their world.

The marauders were at it again.

She angled her head high and narrowed her eyes, searching for the source of the racket in the skies.

She situated the noise makers soaring at incredible altitudes in the firmament and slowed her approach, eyes narrowing on them.

Two silhouettes wheeled in the air while an aerie of Sāb?r hawks hovered close, shrieking and roaring, urging them on in their aerial race.

She’d recognized their forms - the elite warriors of Katánē weren’t hard to mistake.

They glided on chromed wings, showing off their enormous muscled bodies, and soared through the heavens with fantastic speed and agility.

Their temporary kájáns had appeared on the other side of the river a couple of weeks ago.

There were not many, just a handful of bivouacs clustered around a central káján that she’d worked out was their mess tent for dining and gathering.

They’d also set up obstacles throughout the clearing, which they used for physical conditioning.

The kinais had woken her several mornings with their caterwauling.

Which also disturbed the local fauna, scaring away the fish she ate in the river.

She feared the activity might have drawn the attention of others in the South.

Those she did not care to know of her secret hideaway.

She’d scented the approach of her hunters a few days ago, and she feared they’d find her at any second.

In part because of these reckless, noisy-as-fokk drongos who’d invaded her peace.

Several cohorts of combatants have gone through the place for the past few spans.

She’d observed them in secret as their trainers put them through their paces.

One of them in particular freakin’ bothered her.

She wasn’t sure why.

Now, she narrowed her eyes to the sky again, picking him out.

She saw him spin through the headwinds and give a mighty roar that thundered through the atmosphere.

This freakin’ disturbance to her blessed peace had to stop now!

It made her head ache and caused the small creatures rustling in the grasses by the river’s edge to scurry underground in fear.

She sucked her teeth. ‘Fokk!’

Still cursing, she unfurled her plumage, transmuted with a whirl of flames and smoke, and lifted into the air, her crimson form cutting through the ether with grace.

It was as if a ruby had sprouted wings and taken flight, a flash of red and radiance against the sky’s pale blue.

Her talons curled into her fist, and she squeezed them to stop her from screeching out in frustration.

She propelled herself faster with a cry, for there was no time to waste, her crimson feathers bristling, her krest shaking with indignation.