Zaherys

za-HAIR-iss

Midsummer Knight | The Hellkite

Captain Barakiel never spoke of the Hellkites. Like many facets of the clan's history, they were figures one only heard about through the archives- or, with some luck, through the nostalgic, wine-addled recollections of the elders. She had led them once, three thousand years ago, a battalion that had been the pride of Val-ar-Aion. They had been the finest soldiers in the air then, but it hadn't saved them. Not from the ravages of time, and certainly not from the spears of their enemies. Their name is no longer spoken in the City of Lamps, and mentioning them to the old guard elicits only a somber, far-away look.

Perhaps it does Barakiel some good, then, to see a new generation take inspiration from their victories. Shrieking and wheeling like a mad hawk through the summer sky, Zaherys is grace on the wing and chaos on the battlefield, striking from the blue with such vengeance as to stir the ancient Hellkites in their graves. Perhaps, when their standard dances in a windless sky, it is the thrum of ancient wings beating across the centuries that moves them still.