The sun crests the horizon, golden rays dousing the lands in warmth. The blue sky scarcely populated not by clouds, but instead, harpies. Silverfield is abuzz with action, beginning the harvest of one of their fields. Workers pull large scythes and sickles with them, guards idly watching the other fields and forests. A thin snake of purple scales finds itself picked up by talons, then finds itself above the treeline as it sails into the forest, proud harpy waving it off after her throw. She returns to her work. Two harpies circle the deep green pines and birches, occasional aspen peaking through the canopy. One yawns from a rough sleep, before continuing to yell at the other.

  “He’s a level one, you ingrate!” Fleur ignores the beautiful environment, high enough in the sky to see the moors extending in all directions, including the way she had arrived in the town. “A feathercaster is more fit for a full party of second class, with at least the sort of gear you’d find in the Hell’s Diner dungeon, not for some first class and a man who hasn’t even seen what a dungeon is!”

  Sage mostly ignores Fleur, eyes scanning the forest then to a scarcer part near the town where Maribelle and Dave were walking, eyes on the forest around them. “Breeze’s orders, if she just wants you to be killed, she’d do it herself.” Sage flaps her wings, a crimson feather drifting to the ground below. “You halfbreeds have to be able to do something, even distracting it will work.”

  “You’re a ‘halfbreed’ like us! We have to be the same age! I was literally born in year one, and I know you use the same term! The Old World uses ‘Hatched’, we use ‘Born’. So, halfbreed, why the fuck are you with the enemy?” Fleur hisses out her question while flapping her wings harder in frustration, before straightening her back to keep flying. Sage doesn’t bother with a response, eyes firmly locked on a single spot. Her feather had snagged on something she couldn’t see in the sky. It blew in the gentle winds down in the forest, despite the rougher winds up in the sky. Fleur finally caught on, cocking her head as she notices the feather. “The fuck?” The two begin their descent, the unknown material turning more opaque the closer they got, an ethereal string connected between two leaves caught the feather by coincidence.

  “This was specifically designed so that we wouldn’t see it.” Sage lands in the tree, talons firmly wrapping around a branch. Fleur almost lands herself before suddenly taking off.

  “Sage, carefully look around your talons!”

  Sage looks back to her feet, gently nudging a thin stick out the way just for her blood to run cold. The entire underneath had been coated in the same string, sticky and with a dead leaf insect on it, stuck in the webbing. She takes off, hissing as a piece of scute comes off. She hovers and looks at the bleeding spot on her leg. “It’s a trap.” Sage murmurs, before finding a spot between some trees to fly through and land. Fleur is about to follow her when she comes out a second later. “It’s everywhere. Your party cannot get close. This must be where the homunculus lives. Something that makes that much webbing must be either a massive coward, or a huge threat.”

  “Not exactly mutual.” Fleur does do as Sage asks, rapidly flying to their location. She spots the two nervously looking ahead. She lands to the sight of more webbing, and Dave holding some magical books in his arms. “Where did you get those?”

  “Ground.” Maribelle whispers, pointing her right wing to disturbed ground with a plethora of holes and turned up grass. “Someone got dragged here, and dropped their book. It’s not the only one like this. Homunculus base, maybe? Or a Dungeon Entrance?”

  “Definitely not a dungeon, we’d know all about that early.” Fleur brushes off part of Maribelle’s concern. “Homunculus base? Very likely. That stuff is everywhere, super sticky and sadly, almost caught Sage.” Dave squeaks when Sage lands in front of him a moment later, eyes transfixed on the books.

  “Skyborn tomes, the same that the Royal Inquisitorium uses.” Sage gently plucks the one from the top, looking over the yellow and sky blue hardcover. “I remember giving this specific one after my trials just a few years ago to a friend. Furret wouldn’t just abandon this without good reason.” Sage huffs, staring at the book with furrowed brows.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Dave shushes the group, eyes focused on the forest around him. “The BMG is changing. That is beyond creepy.” Dave takes a step back, before noticing the three don’t seem too concerned.

  “We’ll kill what is responsible.” Sage declares, looking to him before looking deep into the forest.

  “BMG?” Fleur asks, Dave pausing. “Oh! The music thing you mentioned back in Birchlea. Huh? Sage?” She notices Sage slowly walking into the forest, book in wings. “Whatever. Let’s get out of-”

  “I see eyes.” Dave declares, pointing his spear in front of him. The other two look where he is, yet are unable to see the eyes he does. Fleur focuses harder.

  A hand in front of her eyes startles her into focus, Dave turning her around. “It’s hypnotic to Harpies!” He lets go of her eyes, then rushes to where she guesses Sage is.

  “I didn’t see eyes.” Fleur quietly protests, although she notices they are past the tree they had spoken at a seeming moment ago.

  “Same.” Maribelle whispers, freaked out. Sage is pulled past the two, startled and slightly disoriented. The sound of skittering and scurrying catches everyone’s attention. “We need to leave!” Everyone springs into action, Maribelle jumping on Dave’s shoulders to heave him into the sky. The four flee into the sky while Dave yells something about latin chanting in the BMG.

  Fleur dares a look into the forest from her position far above the clouds. Webbing has disappeared from view yet her eyes focus on what she believes are spider legs, clicking against bark in frustration, body hidden by leaves and branches. She cannot see the tell-tale sign of black goo from them, so a homunculus isn’t what she sees. She turns away, catching back up to the others. “This is fucked up.”

  “We cannot fight that as we are.” Sage admits, looking down at the ground rapidly passing by. “Alteresa opens in half a week and the true harpies, the Old World Harpies, will be blocking every major path out. Breeze doesn’t want anyone getting through and getting the Alteresan set. Find me that morning, I'll be by the tavern. I’ll smuggle you past the guards. You need to get Dave levelled in that dungeon, a full set of armour, and Alteresa’s blessing. His steel spear should be fine.”

  “Why do you care so much?” Fleur already knows why, but wants it confirmed.

  “I felt my blessing surge,” Fleur was wrong in her assumption, “My level three Ferret’s Blessing should not have done that unless she was nearby. I suspect that Homunculus has done something to her, keeping her alive for whatever reason. But she was coming towards us.” Talk slowly peters out, the group having a lot to think on.

  Night falls over the town, along with the various military camps outside. Night guards keep watch, uninterested but at attention. Maribelle stares at the entrance of the tent, just as on edge as the other two were. “Millwater is planning something.” She finally hisses, before yawning. “I don’t care that we burnt them to the ground. They would have sent assassins by now.”

  Fleur adjusts her sleepwear with a wing, before looking to the entrance as well. “Even if they know it was us, they aren’t going to be able to find us so quickly. You’re being paranoid. You talking about it may just ruin our cover.” She nods her head to Dave, him being in his bedroll. “He’s being nice and quiet, not blowing our cover.” Fleur nestles into her bedroll, shuffling around.

  There's a pause as the three try to sleep, but nothing happens. Dave slowly sits up, clearly unable to sleep. The two girls slowly sit up as well. “Can’t sleep.” He mumbles. “Too nervous for Alteresa. Even if it’s in a few days.” Fleur understands, thinking for a moment.

  “Alteresa is piss easy. I cleared it while I was a chick.”

  Maribelle chuckles, moving her bedroll to be closer to Dave. “She’s not kidding. She slipped into one of the party boxes and the door closed before anyone could drag her out. She came out with a funny hat and plenty of bruises! She didn’t even have a bow yet!”

  Fleur watches Maribelle wildly gesture with her wings, before yawning after her sentence. “I got my first bow there. I wasn’t even old enough to get levels, and that tantalising level 3 was just waiting for me to hit thirteen.” Fleur also yawns, triggering Dave’s own yawn. “The worst of it was the flamespitter, which actually spits a very irritating spicy powder, not flames. We’ll be fine. Promise.” Dave nods, before they notice a very much asleep Maribelle, her head in her wings. “Didn’t take her long.” The two adjust her wings so she isn’t lying on them, then get into their bedrolls themselves. “If Sage is coming, which I doubt, we’ll have a party of four out of five. Nobody would want to compete for resources with four others. Even with three others it’s not worth it. It’ll be just us and we'll protect you. You even solo killed a Kobold, you'll be fine.” Fleur smiles at Dave, before resting her head on the pillow.