"Good boy," Myra said reassuringly, gripping onto the reigns of Caelia's son, Cerulean. "Steady now."

Cerulean did not want to be steady. He took to the skies in a flash of blue scales glowing with the glory of a sparkling sun. They trained over the Northern Sea where the Kallians didn't dare to go. Enemy ships had a habit of meeting their doom on those waters, the waters that remembered their loyalty to the valkyrie queens.

Cerulean was Caelia's son with a wyvern that Myra assumed had been blue. He was larger than her old wyvern, a creature worthy of a queen. Despite this he moved just as quickly as Caelia and his fire burned even hotter. It was also a dark blue flame, jarringly different from the red-gold flame that had matched his mother's scales.

Although his shape, colour and flame were vastly different, Cerulean had certainly inherited his mother's arrogance and cheek. The formerly retired valkyrie warriors had given him to her not simply because of sentiment but because they had no idea how to handle such a creature. They sought to tame and calm Cerulean into a disciplined creature. None of them understood that wyverns like him needed to be allowed their wildness. They glided over the dazzling water, mere inches from the ocean.

"Dive," she whispered in his ear. He obeyed and Myra plunged into the water.

Up and down, up and down as the world became nothing but the icy bite of ocean interrupted by a swift leap back into the cold air and again and
again. She let out a cry of triumph as they at last glided up, up, up away from the icy sea. Her clothes were soaked through and her hair had turned from dark red to black, but they were already starting to dry in the wind that battered against them. Cerulean's scales glistened blue in the weak sunlight. Several of the watching elves and humans stared at her. The valkyries only dived into the chilly waters themselves, relishing the icy ocean bite. They understood the fierce and beautiful love between a valkyrie and the ocean.

She took great, breathless gasps of cold Miras air as they soared higher and higher. Nothing could stop them now. They were invincible, unstoppable, a force of nature as they climbed higher and higher into the sky. This was what Myra had been made for-this beautiful, breathtaking flight, the wind beating against her, her clothes drenched with the salty waters of the sea, the lifeblood of her people. Cerulean breathed a great gust of blue fire into the air triumphantly. As much as wyverns loved the ocean, they were creatures of flame above all.

Myra reluctantly guided her wyvern back to their camp where two hundred thousand Kallian soldiers were now squeezed into caves. Apparently something about their mind already being open had helped the numerous MindWeavers to take control and they now easily commanded the legions of stolen soldiers. Some of them had even been persuaded to switch sides. Mainly the conscripted, shoved into the army from sixteen and dreaming of rebellion. They still weren't entirely trusted but Tarua Teris was working through a recruitment programme with those who were willing to join them. The mere presence of valkyries, wyverns and gryphons helped keep many in line as much the MindWeavers did anyway. Valkyrie warriors and their flying steeds were a good deterrent for defiance.

She glided through the air and gently landed on a flat piece of mountain. Cerulean followed her down into the hastily arranged stables where she left him to get on with her other duties.

Their camp was genius. Sheltered from wind by the very structure of the mountains, it was shaped like an arena with makeshift rock overhang and a somewhat circular shape of walls pockmarked with little caves and alcoves where their approximately two hundred and ten thousand slept each night. In the centre was a rocky plain that was divided into the training areas, the stables and the meeting places where Myra and the other leaders would convene. It reminded her so much of the Hawk Mountains that it hurt and was so perfectly made for them that she wondered if the goddesses had crafted it by hand.

Myra had settled into a daily routine. She would wake up by dawn in the makeshift home she, Jasper and Kestra had made in one of the larger caves with luxuries such as three small tents to live in. Her cave-mates (as Jasper called them) were still asleep by the time she hurried to the stables to practice flying with Cerulean. She squeezed in about three hours and finished at nine to enter the sparring ring and target area where she would spend a further three hours training for the battles ahead. At twelve she'd watch the Tarua Teris and valkyrie riders practice and slowly gain confidence for an hour, occasionally giving feedback but mostly just examining their technique and ability. She'd learned long ago that there was a significant difference between being able to lead and being able to teach. By one she'd move onto more dull work; meeting with her fellow leaders, Talia and Nala and planning the course ahead as well as breaking up fights between the three different factions of their growing army. It seemed valkyries, elves and humans were always going to have problems getting on.

Her evenings were spent giving speeches and issuing commands. The valkyrie warriors wanted to see her, the training nine-to-fourteen year-olds wanted to meet her. She endured it all with a patient smile far outshone by Kestra. How much her daughter had changed.

When her duties were finally done for the day Myra would collapse into her sleeping bag, occasionally mumbling something to Jasper and Kestra before falling to sleep and snoring profusely, earning complaints from everyone, including (if Jasper was to believed) several people from next-door caves.

Her days were so full she hardly noticed as weeks passed by. Talia has suggested they attack, bringing with her a long list of targets—how Myra had missed worked with her—and Nala had agreed, but she waved off their concerns.

"We have all the time in the world," Myra had smiled at them.

"We are in the middle of war," Talia—who's exile wasn't yet official and which applied to Asriel but not the rebellion—had groaned. "If there's one thing we don't have, it is time."

"Of course we have time," Myra had replied. "The one thing we don't have is training and experience with working in a unit. We're hidden and protected and things might not be that way for long. Right now what we should be doing is gathering our strength and training our soldiers. There's no point in hitting a city, declaring our location to the world and beginning this war for real before we're ready."

"While we wait, our people suffer," Talia snapped. "We have to act."

"Our people have been suffering for years," Nala replied. "When we do this—and mark my words, we will—we have to do it smart otherwise our people will never be free."

"We gather more soldiers, more healers." Myra declared. "We steal them from all over the Empire. But nothing more."
Slowly but surely, they were building up on army to face the two hundred thousand in Miras and Asriel. Soon, they might be able to take back pieces of the countries they loved so dearly. She tried not to think of Kallias, with another four hundred thousand men lying in wait, along with the Empress' terrible powers ready to rip through them. Lysandra would succeed in her assassination. All they needed to do was knock out the governors—Hadlow and Torus, who had returned to Miras and Asriel—then the princess could handle her mother.

Hope was on the horizon. Myra could feel it in the air. She just had to reach forth and take it. Then maybe she could free her country.