The light of an infinite array of stars fell through the moonless atmosphere of a cool planet, finishing its long, lonely voyage across the cosmos to illuminate Brynton’s mountains in silvers for a pair of ancient eyes.

Elessi tasted the air, then shifted her gaze to the western horizon, where the expanse was being devoured by a creeping darkness.

Occasional flickers lit the tops of broad, heavy clouds in the distance and refracted through the moist air, lighting the land below and causing her eyes to momentarily narrow against the assault.

An energy filled the night, at once still and powerful; it stirred her senses and struck a chord within her.

This storm was coming to her, and that was as it should be.

She dug her claws into the cool sod beneath her. She could sense the power of the tempest that would soon sweep through; trees would roar and creak as they danced in the winds, and the land would bleed the stormclouds dry.

Forerunner tendrils of cloud swept past aloft, low and fast, but the air currents were still around her and not even the gentlest zephyr stirred to wash across her scales.

She had a few hours yet.

She hungered, but the hunting tonight would be poor; most worthwhile prey would be bedding down in a safe place to wait out the storms.

To Elessi, this knowledge was instinct, passed on by countless generations of forbears. Instinct, below the level of conscious thought, a fundament of her existence. It was the foundation of intuition, the precursor to cognition, and the scaffold of broader dreams.

She spread her giant wings in the still night air to feel its pressure, baring her teeth as she tasted the air. Broad-wing, she was known. The greatest warrior of her people, the strongest in battle, and equally respected for her wisdom. A leader of leaders amongst the elech, and head of the council for generations.

Above instinct, above intuition, above dreams, was the certain intellectual knowledge that she would never hunt again.

She turned her head and lifted her snout, ever proud, to look at her wings. Her wingsails, the tough, iridescent flesh between the long bones of her wings, were dull, torn and tattered; her left wingspar was broken and would no longer heal.

To a flying predator, it was a mortal wound.

Her bones ached with age in defiance of her will to carry on, and recalcitrant legs, stiff and heavy beneath her, refused to bend and give her spring.

Others had long since taken her place in battle, in the hunt, and on the council; her progeny were many and proud, and she was proud of them.

This would be her last storm; she knew she would not see the mists of morning rise from the trees. Though she longed to return to the sky once more, she welcomed destiny with a tranquility that had taken her lifetime to achieve.

She sensed a presence behind her, and turned her head.

Eren and Brax were there, two great predators sitting like standing stones, starlight glimmering across their scales. How long they had been there, she could not say. Her nostrils flared, but she did not detect the scent of meat.

That, too, was as it should be—a warrior should go hungry into the next life.

“My children.” Elessi’s rumbled words were warm with her love and affection.

“The time has passed for me when I would sense you coming, hear your arrival, feel the pressures of your movements in the air.”

The two elech did not move, eyes locked on her, on her throat.

A cold wind stirred the boughs around them, and Elessi raised her head, taking a deep breath and allowing the fragrant air to fill her lungs.

“It is a beautiful night, is it not? Ripe with change.”

Still the pair did not respond, but she could see Brax tremble slightly.

Elessi allowed her grin to fade to a proud, respectful smile, dipping her head.
“Of course I know why you have come. We shall wait until the storm lends its fury, my hearts. Come, children. Dispense with protocol and sit with me for the first time as equals.”

Brax turned a guilty glance at Eren, who deflected his head infinitesimally in negation.

“I warn you,” Elessi hardened her voice only slightly, but they both stiffened, “And I warn only once. It is my time, and I will not run, but come at me before the storm, refuse my invitation to settle and talk, and I will resist you with every ounce of guile and strength I yet possess.”

Brax sighed and stepped forward, ignoring a warning hiss from Eren.
“I’m sorry. I have never done this,” Brax’s voice still held the harshness of youth. “They tell us to not talk.”

“Yes, and that is as it should be. But I am not some songless, dreamless one. I am Broad-wing, grown and wise, and you will grant me this final request. And when you taste my blood, you will have my whole life. Then you will truly know me. You will know why I wish to await the storm.”

“It is forbidden,” Eren growled, displeased. He circled slightly to her left.
Elessi turned, rising to her haunches and looming over the pair with a deep, resonant hiss. She flexed her giant claws down against the rock, her back to the cool, deep spring. She was still half again the weight of Eren, and towered over him, projecting menace.

The younger elech both flinched back.

“Don’t, Eren. We will wait,” Brax entreated, wings furled, paw raised, claws splayed. “It is not weakness to show respect. We were chosen to carry her.”

“But the council forbids—” Eren began.

“The council does not rule the elech,” Elessi growled. “It is of the elech. We miss the path of wisdom if we look at taking as the disposal of the infirm. Why should our last memories be poisoned by terror and desperation? Why should we take someone who doesn’t dream? To take one upon death is a kindness to them, to us and to our kin. We bring our beloved back in once more to the blood which spawned them and their line. It is our ultimate honor, and we should deny it to those who do not wish it, and those who are not yet ready—such is and has always been the way of elechen.

“Ah, but thousands of years will contort beautiful things and wreak ugliness where beauty thrived. Bloodlust turns our honor into a ruthless game, and it weakens our culture. So much is right that is not rule, and so much rule is not right that I tremble at the evils of blind obedience. Once you have tasted, you will understand, my children; you will be children no longer.”

A rumble of thunder brought three reptilian heads skyward, their scales reflecting the starlight.

“We love you, Broad-wing,” Eren murmured. He still sounded reluctant.

“Ever love, my mother,” Brax squeezed his eyes shut. “It is hard for us to do.”

Elessi closed her eyes briefly in gratitude. “Do not mistake me—I wish to be taken, but I want to feel all of this glorious energy released. One last time. Can you feel its song? There’s more to the night than storm, and more to the storm than weather; I wish to join with that energy and embrace the change as I embrace my own.”

“Yes, my mother.”

“Sit with me, my children. Settle.”

Obediently, Eren and Brax settled to their haunches in symmetry, eyes glimmering in the dark.

Elessi folded her paws, settling her chest down onto them, content.
“Over the past weeks I have felt this day come. All knew I would never leave this spot after my crash. That I would never again taste the air. I know you knew, and I am grateful for your tireless efforts to serve me still.”

Brax stiffened and stared up. Elessi noticed and followed his gaze.

Two shooting stars fell together across the sky, away from the mountains, toward the sun-lit grasslands far beyond the eastern horizon. Two more followed in perfect symmetry, and still two more as the elech watched on in wide-eyed interest.

Elessi tilted her head. What could it be? Her curiosity rose.

“What is this?” Eren rose, alert.

Another set of stars lit the sky.

“Change, young one.” She felt her curiosity fade, and she sighed softly. This would not be her tale. “It is change. Some new thing. It is a thing beyond my time.”

Another set of stars lit the sky.

“No mother. You must come back with us to the council,” Brax’s voice trembled slightly, wide eyes reflecting the bright amber streaks. “Or . . . we bring the council here. This new thing . . . I feel it changes all.”

“I feel it, too. But you will grow great. As great as I. I dream the dream of millennia, and with that wisdom I can see your heart. And yours, Eren. I know what strength lies within the both of you. If you both stand together, no elech, no thing can best you. This change is of your time, not of mine.”

A stronger breeze stirred the tops of the trees, then set them sighing in the distance. In time it swept across them in a rustling roar. The clouds grew.

“My children.” Elessi dug her claws into the cool loam, enjoying its touch. “I have lived an age, and whatever has come, I sense you will meet it. I will always be with you, behind the eyes.”

They sat in silence. Even as the rumble of thunder shook the ground. Even as the breeze carried the scent of water to sensitive elech noses. Even as the droplets began to sink into the thirsty soil.

At long last, Elessi settled her length into the grass and turned her head to the side. She closed her eyes, feeling the rain beginning to strike her form and rattle through the trees.

It was good.

Lightning struck close by, and in that instant both of her children moved. She heard a little noise from Brax, and could sense Eren’s determination.

“It is right.” She hissed, calming the reflexive tension raised by her deepest instincts. “It is time.”

As she felt their jaws close around her neck, she felt a great gladness sweep through her for all her life had brought, and she remembered death’s kiss from the millions who had come before.