• The distant, clashing thunder of battle aroused the moths from their slumber. Half asleep, they flitted around blindly, favoring the fierce torches lining the walls. Many of these insects lost their lives to the hungry flames, others escaped with singed wings, while still others escaped unscathed.

    Having learned their lesson, the survivors cling to the hall’s planes, only to be disturbed again by the rustling of robes. Down the corridor, illumed by the dancing, fervorous flames, stepped an army of hooded figures.

    Yet more moths left this world.

    The hall’s ending opened into a cylindrical room, in which the robed women filed. The chamber stretched up to unfathomable lengths. Its purpose in life was to house the altar built into its southern wall.

    In virtuous silence, they knelt and bowed their heads. The only sounds pervading the air were the rustlings of silk robes. Even these were silenced as the girls settled in.

    Bearing a flaming candle, a white clad woman stepped into the center of the arena. She knelt in front of the altar. As the lights danced upon her silver hair and glinted off her silver eyes, she spoke, “Filia of Sol solis quod Luna , temerarius meus lacuna. Ego voco vos ut templum of luna. Ut servo speculum universitas , vos mos adveho. Videor pro mihi iam.”

    Her lush lips repeated the words and she rose to her feet. Her pale face turned toward the sky, and her voice grew louder.

    Outside, as rain broke upon the forest and thunder crashed, a symphony arose. The voices of many women, led by one, accented this opus.

    The tension in the air rose and hair stood on end.

    Shattering glass signaled the climax of the concerto.