I choose Power

SEVEN

Sirina listens at the threshold and when she does not hear anyone on the other side, she shoves the huge rock hiding the entrance to her secret tunnel aside and steps into her room, fuming.

How stupid she was! What was she doing, barging in and saving a common human's life like that like some twisted hero? If any of her sisters smell the woman or the wolves both of which she reeks of on her, then the entire clan will turn against her and shred her to pieces, quite literally, without waiting for explanations. There is no love lost between the harpies and the humans. However, the woman had not seemed completely human with her pointed ears and her otherworldly scent. But other than that, she had smelled of years of interaction with humans, so much she could easily be confused as one.

She strides to her chest which contains more treasure than a king would ever need and some change of clothes, her wings tucked into each other at her back to allow for easier movement in her medium-sized room. The human's face comes to her mind, the way she had looked at her when she had seen her wings, not terrified witless or violently revolted like she had expected, but she had looked at her in wonder and a little sensible fear. A jolt of excitement ripples through her at the new memory, raising the fine feathers on her body before she ruthlessly beats it down. To show such suspect emotion in Sendrylya is to invite a swift and ruthless death. Despite the tough exterior and the intimidation tactics perfected to the ultimate level, harpies are highly emotional creatures at heart. But the woman had been the first time she has ever made any human contact since she was brought into this world a d started spying on humans. Usually, she watches them from a distance, with their queer short lives, free to live and love and move with no restrictions and she has gotten very good at that, watching but not interacting. That is, until today. Of course, she has had to sneak out everytime to do that, at great risk to herself but Sendrylya holds nothing new for her and she has always been a very restless harpy, a dangerous combination for such a deadly creature as she. She had discovered the secret entrance through pure luck centuries ago when she was small and had been sent to this very room to stay while the older hapries held a meeting. The magic that allowed harpies to birth by laying eggs has dried out over the years and there had not been a single child born of the harpies for nearly a millenium and they had feared the time had finally come for their true extinction. So, when she was miraculously born, the entire nest had adopted her, pampered and taken care of her. She had been the only child in the entire nest then, overprotected and shielded from anything that would upset her and thus from anything fun and worthwhile. Bored and alone, she had done what every child of all kinds with too much time on their hands did, explored, and she had struck gold in finding the tunnel. Thankfully, she had not been the last of the harpies to be born. After her, her mother, Rylla had given birth again just a half milenium later to a newborn harpy and another, after that. Despite daily prayers and lots of trial by others, only Rhylla seemed to have the ability to give birth anymore and she had volunteered to focus all of her energy on bringing more harpies into the world and that is exactly what she had done. Sirina was finally free from the hovering but well-meaning harpies and was finally treated as a harpy in her own right.  She had selfishly kept the entrance a secret even from the Ancients and had earned the room with the tunnel two centuries later through cultivated strength and cunning, challenging the former owner for it and fighting with no mercy. It had been her first real fight and she had made it out of it with wings nearly ripped out of her back, limbs missing and her throat held together with her hands.

She riffles through her chest for the appropriate gown for today. Noone had thought anything of her challenge then because her room had been very small from her childhood days and even then, fights broke out nearly every day. Her wings flare out and she shrugs the long gown she was wearing over her arms and dumps it in the chest, pulling out a new dress and pulling it over her chest. After she had gotten the room, she had waited two more decades to remove all suspicion before trying the tunnel again. Even if it were discovered at some point, she would still be under no suspicions because the last place a harpy would ever venture in is underground. It is an ingrained fear in all of them, probably for their love of open spaces where they can fly unlimited but she has long pushed through that fear with her determination. When she is done, she slams her chest closed, tucks her wings back in and strides to the edge of her room. It drops off the face of a huge cliff, attached to the rock surface through complex magic used by the most ancient harpies and is impossible to get to on foot. With the fading of magic, less and less houses can be built on the rock surfaces and the few that can be managed take years to complete and so shelter has become scarce and some of her sisters even go to the trouble of carving one out from within the mountains.

In their little stretch of land protected from the human eyes by ancient magic, the last remaining harpies in the entire world can be found. They are now a dwindling people, starved and cruel and living in fear of discovery of the enemies that hunt them as trophies. The fear increases daily because for some reason, ever since the harpies had fought with the Valkyrie Sabine thousands of years ago and lost to the other Valkyries, they have been feared, hunted and killed. The most bizarre and abominable rumours have been spread about them to heighten the people's fear. And fear is a dangerous emotion indeed, capable of transforming even the most docile creatures to terrifying nigjtmares. Their ancestors while powerful, could not stand against the combined power of thousands including Valkyries, witches and sorcerers, humans and many others. They had died out despite all of their best efforts and finally, the very last of them had created this haven for them where they can live in fragile peace out of sight of the rest of the world. The haven has somehow morphed over the years into a solid prison with no escpae for so many harpies trapped in a place all at once for so many years creates a dark edgy undercurrent which can be triggered by the slightest offense. Sendrylya could be termed by many as a beautiful place but a beautiful cage is still a cage and the harpies are well and truly trapped within.

The place is made up of sheer cliffs and high mountains arranged highlighted as if drawn by an extravagant painter, with about five hundred homes hanging off the rock faces. Competition has grown tough for food and shelter and thus, such common things in the human lands are viciously fought for and guarded jealously in Sendrylya.

With a flap of her wings, she takes off and flies straight to a huge waterfall cascading down a cliff end in a shower of droplets which bathe her skin before she flies away, circling the arena once before dropping down. Her wings automatically tuck into her back and she stalks past a stream so clear you can see everything in it down to the bottom.

"Sirina." One of her sisters drop down beside her, looking pointedly at her wet feathers with a disapproving frown.

"Eowyn." She says, not breaking her stride, her face carved in stone. Eowyn falls in beside her and they hurry to the temple along with many of their other sisters.

"I came looking for you last night." The statement is made as an inquiry and a probe and normally, she would have been forced to provide an explanation because Eowyn is more than a millenium older than her but the only thing that matters to the harpies is strength and Sirina had kept busy throughout her years of life and trained herself to be stronger and faster than many of her sisters. She might be one of the youngest in the nest but she is the last thing from indebted to anyone.

When Eowyn does not get her answer, she huffs and concentrates on analyzing other harpies.

The temple comes into view. It is a tall regal building made entirely of diamond crystals. It thins as it shoots straight up into the sky, ending in a what looks like the most expensive intricate icicle ever made. Around the temple, more icicles drop down the sides and a great arched door is thrown open to receive the women. The temple has an antechamber which is where they all go to have breakfast and dinner, and they pray to Hammengias, their patron goddess in the main temple for blessings and mercy.

It does not seem like Hammengias is listening to anyone anymore because with each day that passes, there is less and less food available for everyone, the mountains seem to be expanding and trying to swallow up Sendrylya and more and more people are left with no food, and soon enough, no place to live. Nobody talks about it openly but they all feel it, their time in Sendrylya is coming to an end and when it does, Sirina hopes the elders have a plan that will not get them hunted down and killed.

Sirina and Eowyn stalk into the temple along with hundreds of other harpies, each more hungry-looking than the last, and form a silent unmoving mass waiting for the signal with eyes fixated on the slabs of raw meat piled on the altar at the front. Rhylla is the only harpy who gets to eat without bleeding for her food because she needs her strength and all of her concentration on bringing in the new generation of harpies. The rest of them come in here every morning and every evening and when the signal is given, it is a bloody fight to get even a morsel of food. The strongest are fed, the weak get stronger in order to be fed and weakest remain hungry. As Sirina casts a detached glance around the temple, she sees the hollow, haggard faces of many of her sisters starved too many times. But there just isn't enough food to go round. They might be weakened and in pain, but the curse of immortality will not let them die of hunger.

In a row in front of the slabs are the five Ancients, the oldest harpies alive. They are the elders, the leaders and the decision makers of the entire nest. In the middle of the five is the very oldest harpy, Ancient Benebin, believed to be so old even she has forgotten her age though she looks nothing more than a human's years of forty. Ancient Benebin cuts a strip of meat from the slab in front of her and walks to the altar of Hammengias, laying it at her feet and murmuring a prayer. A statue of Hammengias towers over the temple, nearly touching the high roof and the rest of the harpies follow suit and whisper the same prayer they make to Hammengias everyday before they eat, that She bring her holy light to guide them out of the dark times.

When Benebin is done, she walks back to join the rest of the Ancients and in a synchronised move, they grab their piece of the meat and instantly, hundreds of feet pound and air buffets her as hundreds of harpies take to the air in a race to the buffet. The signal has been given, and now it is open season.

With a powerful clap of her wings, she shoots up in the air and races for the table. Harpies drag meat between each other, hissing and biting at each other for possession while some engage in full-on fights and others are knocked out on the floor. The table is already empty and so she turns to the nearest piece, a large bloody hank being pulled in three different directions by hissing harpies.

She jumps into the fray with relish, a whirlwind of claws and wings. She swings one's leg out from under her and shoves her chest with a flat palm, sending her crashing into a wall and crumpling the floor. The two harpies attack her and she dives beneath the wings of one, her claws lengthen and she uses it to carve out the harpie's neck and swipes her wings across the others chest, the sharp dangerous tips leaving diagonal trails of blood spilling out of her. The meat in her hand, the last harpy dives into the air to make a run for it but Sirina is faster and she meets her in the air, grabbing her arm from behind, spinning her to face her front, grabbing her other arm and placing her clawed foot in the middle of her back between her wings. She shoots up in the air and shoves her into floor so hard that the ground crumbles on impact. She dives down and grabs her meat and makes her exit. While she leaves, she notices the hungry harpies that contemplate the wisdom of attacking her for the meat, she bares her fangs at them and they wisely clear a path for her and she makes her way out of the numerous windows at the uppermost sides of the temple.

Eowyn joins her a moment later, her mouth and teeth stained red with blood and hanging pieces of meat and another large piece of meat in her hand.

"Where do you always go to eat?" She asks and Sirina ignores her. If there was ever a most opportunistic and nosy harpy it was definitely Eowyn. Before Sirina had been born, Eowyn and a few others had been the treasured last generation of the harpies. After she had been born, the entire nest's attention had naturally shifted from her to Sirina and she suspects Eowyn has never quite forgiven her for that. When she had been younger, Eowyn had not lost any opportunity to prey on her and ridicule her weaknesses. But then, she had gotten strong, stronger than most of the harpies and respected by the entire nest, and Eowyn had turned full tables, looking for every opportunity to get in her good graces but she is the last person Sirina trusts. It is obvious that she is very curious and suspicious of how much time Sirina supposedly spends in her room and finds excuses to pop up at the oddest hours to satisfy her curiosity but Sirina has never once let her in and sometimes ignores her outright, setting the ground for the probable times she would come looking for her when she is not around as she should be. The woman is also a stickler for rules and does not mind showing how much she detests people that do not follow them precisely. Sirina does not think she will ever get along with her in any lifetime.

"See you later, Eowyn." She says and with a huge clap of her wings, shoots higher and higher above the mountains and rides the wind to the top of the waterfall.

She drops down and strides into Rhylla's chambers perched at one of the highest points in Sendrylya. Not everyone is allowed in here but as one of her numerous daughters she has complete access to it. The thought of being close to her mother is alien to her and she does not come in here to see Rhylla most of the time, but she does enjoy the quiet and the privacy that the chambers provide. She strides down to the end of one of the passageways as she has done numerous other times to a door and gently swings it in.

Tresia looks up from the floor where she paints, bringing plain parchment to life in bold strokes. Her face lights up on seeing her and she beams. "Sirina!" She shrieks excitedly like she did not just see her a day before. Sirina laughs.

"What are we working on today?" Sirina asks and shuts the door behind her. Inside this room with Tresia is the second piece of freedom that keeps her soul alive. In here, she does not have to be mean and wicked, she can just be whatever version of herself she feels like with no judgements. Whether she is nice or happy or sad, angry or frustrated, she can safely express her emotions with Tresia without fear of being sold out to the Ancients.

The room is bright, overlooking the overflowing river that ends in the waterfall. Brilliant rays from the sun filter into the room to illuminate Tresia's work. Rhylla. She is depicted on the page in full armor with her belly full and large and a jug of milk sloshing over the rim in one hand.

"Rhylla." She says and gets up from the floor to sit beside her on the pallet. "Its not finished yet."

"I can see that." She says and strokes her hair down before handing her the meat. Her eyes light up as she collects it.

"Any spice today?" She asks looking up at her with big kaleidoscope eyes.

Tressia is one of her youngest sisters from Rhylla. The Ancients say that Rhylla must have eaten something abominable while heavy with her because she is a strikingly different harpy from the rest of them. She hates fighting, cannot defend herself despite years of training aimed at molding her into shape and does not have an inch of her heart stained with cruelty. The Ancients say she is a disgrace to harpies but Sirina disagrees. While everyone had lost hope in her and sealed her in this chamber away from sight, Sirina has always made time each day to come here with food, and had promised herself that she would fill her heart with cruelty enough for both of them and she has. Shortly after she had stumbled upon Tresia crying in a hallway, a phenomenon so alien to her she would have sworn Tresia was not a harpy if not for her distinctive feathery wings, she had sworn to her to protect her from whatever demons were chasing her. After she had taken her under her wing, the people that used to mock her and terrorise her because of her gentle nature had each learned the hard way what it feels like to be overpowered and humiliated. Tressia loves to draw and paint and admire nature. Her uniqueness also expresses herself in her eyes which are a shifting kaleidoscope of colours.

"But of course!" Sirina says and dramatically pulls out a pouch of spice she had stolen from a human cook.

Today she is not very hungry and watches as Tressia's eyes light up on seeing the spice and she quickly collects it and sprinkles it all over the meat. She is not hungry thanks to the luscious farm animals she had stolen from innocent human farmers just a few hours ago. She watches as Tressia devours her meal with the unknown spice with relish. While the rest of the harpies enjoy their meal fresh and raw and bloody, she and Tressia prefer to have human spices snuck in where noone sees. Perhaps someday she can take Tressia through the tunnel into the human world. A smile traces her lips as she imagines the excitement Tressia would feel at the prospect.

When Tressia is done, she rests her head on her shoulder and begins dozing off. The harpies are mainly nocturnal creatures but have no problem being active in the day. They can survive on about two hours sleep a month, after which their bodies force them to rest for at least half a whole day, vulnerable and undefended. Even though Sendrylya is a place of traps and fights and revelling in being wicked borne from having too much idle time and not enough entertainment, the crashing period of a harpy is the time the whole nest unanimously comes together to protect the harpy, and dishonour and badluck lies in attacking a harpy undergoing The Crashing.

Just when Tressia is about to nod off, the door bangs open. Dylandra, one of her sisters stands in the doorway in full armor and there is an unusual flurry of movement behind her in the hallway. Tressia jerks awake, flutters away to her drawing and snatches it up, holding it to her chest while Sirina takes her time standing and unfurling her wings, ready for a fight.

"Sirina. You have been requested for. You are to report to the meeting chambers immediately." Dylandra says, eyes bright with excitement.

"Requested for, by who?" Sirina asks, stamping to the door.

"Ancient Benebin. All the ancients and the most powerful harpies have been called for." Dylandra says, wings fluttering behind her and lifting her off the floor in her excitement.

"Why?" She asks.

"I don't know. But I hear everything is about to change." She says ominously.