Vargas let out a hearty laugh.

"I myself would never dare," he agreed, the fanged lips upturned at their corners. He shuffled through the sand alongside the Merchant, lifting his head to peer up at the mesa as they reached the canyon's edge.

"There it is," he echoed.

He watched in silence, for a moment, before half-turning to Astraea. "Is it all over, then? Is there anything left to hunt? And why do you look like this?" His gem was the same, his name was the same, but he himself looked rather... different.

Vargas stared, for awhile, at the stag's brown antlers.

Just as Reseda was stepping off to continue on without the others, a searing heat touched the base of her tail stump. She snarled and instinctively whipped around, her magic ripping the bile off of her skin. It had burned the surface a bit, but she'd been quick enough to escape the worst. She flicked the thing away, of the edge of the cliffs. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the other ones, trying to pinpoint her attacker. They were smart enough to have hidden back into the crowd, but Reseda's mind was working fast, picking out four creatures that she deemed the most suspect. Most were (foolishly) attacking the matriarch but the strange turtle creature, the smaller dragon, the long neon fox, and the eel with legs all were open to have attacked. She thought that, perhaps, the turtle was the most likely, with the billowing char perhaps being another fire spell they knew, but they were distracted and in front of her, not behind. The sand dragon wasn't paying attention to her, high in the sky and flying away.

And between the two remaining, the fox was the closest. That was the one. She would be teaching these foolish, arrogant creatures that to attack her would mean sure retaliation. She would not start the fights, but she would sure as hell be ending them.

Reseda flicks off the spitfire before it can do any damage.

From underneath the rock, Amazon watched all the chaos unfold around her. Her eyes were wide as she gazed out at all the chaos ensuing. So many were attacking the matriarch and Amazon felt a bit of warm pride that many of the champions had forgone their own survival to help take down the giant vulture. She wished she could be out there, helping, fighting, but she was small and would surely die quickly.

But...as she looked out, she saw many of the other vultures descending on the weaker ones, intending on picking them off. She realized that the large white creature that had hung back to help her before was under attack as well. Her eyes widened. Maybe...this was her chance to help!

It was stupid, but it was all she could do. She scuttled out from underneath her hiding spot and dodged rock to rock, until she was close enough that her voice would carry, but far enough that she could still hide. She sucked in a deep breath and, as loud as her squeaky voice could muster (which was surprisingly loud for a lizard her size), screamed, "HEY BIG UGLY! OVER HERE!"

She immediately dived behind her rock as the vulture looked over. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough for the yeti to escape.

Amazon is distracting the vulture so yeti can escape

Labradorite Five-Four-Six bristled, but he no longer paid Reseda any mind. Instead, he turned his brief attention to the youngling dragon and bared his teeth. "Don't speak as though you've ran through this before," he warned.

Togetherness, although a nice thought, was never quite realistic for the trials. It almost always ended in back-stabbing, and the only person he could really trust was his brother.

But that didn't quite matter-- nor did the outcome of the youngling lizard's fate. Smoke was rising into the air and already he was struggling to see. Five-Four-Six would have to act quickly. He pushed his weight into his hind legs and began bounding forward.

He leapt, running for the matriarch. A vulture swooped low and he moved to the left-- but too slowly. The bird's talons raked through thick, slate-grey fur covering his shoulder and he howled out in pain as a spray of crimson liquid spattered out onto the ground.

Surprisingly, this type of pain was a new thing for him.

He knew the agony of cramping limbs, and a chest so tight you can't breathe. He knew the burning of paws underfoot in the hot sand and he knew the pain of the sun beating down into heavy fur. He did not know the pain of having flesh ripped from bone, and it was something he would have rather went without.

His left-side was quickly covered in blood; dripping down and matting the fur as Labradorite Five-Four-Six tried to recompose himself.

Shango had rather lost track of... well, just about everything. His mind was awed by his thunder, swept up in the crash and the roar of it, and the only Gembound near him who'd seemed to be in any danger had already been rescued.

For a moment he simply stood there, tail twitching once--catlike--as he watched the chaos roiling around him, standing there miraculously untouched.

Then came the smoke.

The hybrid glanced around, sharply, a soft, yowling growl rising in his throat. A fire? Now? What if his lightning had done that? They were all trapped up here; burning to death would be bad. Even if not, he was certain that a proper storm would solve things.

Shango's mind was, it seemed, rather one-track.

In a shocking twist of events, as he stood there--the rain now starting to hit the hot rock around him with dark spots and sizzles--he spoke: "Stooooooorm..."

Imp galloped very lopsidedly, for a moment, after the Matriarch--the creature lunging after the fleeing cockatrice, though Imp couldn't see it quite well.

For a moment he'd thought the Agate must be his own, long-lost child--it looked like Kalama and he had made a baby, but he certainly didn't remember doing that. Still, he decided that he liked it, and as such, it was time to shout at it.

"YEAH! GO WINGY FLUFFBALL! NICE JOB! YOU SHOW IT!" As he yelled all of this (dubious) encouragement, he leapt up, wings catching the chaotic air in a brief gust, and he flapped hard--lunging for the wound that Asimona had scored on the Matriarch's neck.

He didn't get quite that far--he wound up a bit behind the neck, but his jaws still clamped firmly down on what he hoped was the Vulture Matriarch's spine. As she flew, his far-smaller body was visible: jerking up and down with each of her wingbeats, flailed and thrashed but holding tight.

Imp appeared, even, to be grinning.

DESERT ROSE THIRTY-FIVE
here's to my yesterday

Thirty-Five banked in large circles, thick wings beating between strikes of lightning. It was dangerous for him to still be in the midst of it all, but his eyes were pinpointed on the splotch of blue he’d easily identified as his brother.

He heard what the ice dragon and champion had said. With lips curled, he snarled down to them “I don’t see that seagull anymore!” with the heat of Hydra on his tongue. Didn’t he go in just to save some other youngling? Had the Gembound of today really gone this soft? Last he checked, you couldn’t trust anyone in these hells-forsaken caves. Cowardice was what kept you alive. If you reveal yourself, you would only fail at the hands of another.

“I’d rather be a coward than dead! ‘Sides, it ain’t smart to misplace your trust!” Thirty-Five roared out over the thunder as he circled back around, teeth bared down to the fighting gembounds. He had to speak carefully, lest he let the feather fall out from his cheek.

Well, there went the chance of exploiting ally-ship. No matter- the one person he cared about was still down there. With the cock distracting Hydra’s enemies, all Thirty-Five had to worry about was dodging the lightning coming down around them.

‘Come on..’ the dragon cheered for his brother as death surrounded them, the vultures starting to swarm. If he were lucky, none would come for him up here.

However, one of the other champions seemed to have smoke in mind, blinding him from the action. A roar rang out from Thirty-Five’s maw in frustration as his piercing eyes frantically scanned for his brother in the smog. There! Thirty-Five’s wingtip dipped down as he spiraled, hovering above the smog and careful not to stir it up.

A call from above startled him for a moment, causing him to flap a little erratically and raise back up in the air, glancing around. The Matriarch was up. Panic fluttered in Thirty-Five’s chest as bile rose in his throat. No- stay on task. The dragon shook his head and continued his circling methodically, frantically searching for Five-Four-Six once more.

He locked eyes on his brother the moment he saw failure. Anger boiled in the dragon, flushing his hidden skin with red. His scales raised as he whipped in the wind, beating powerful wings to grab the vulture from the air with a roaring mouth.

The desert dragon collided strong with the vulture- it almost didn't see it coming. A solid crunch sent refreshing blood down Thirty-Five's gullet, painting the trophy feather red that was nestled between his molars. With the meat in his maw Thirty-Five was quick to scoop himself back into the air and retrieve the feather from his mouth before snapping off chunks of meat to swallow down, letting the carcass fall to the plateau below.

Just a little road snack to refill some energy.

Ru nods at Amazon's thanks, but otherwise concentrates on holding down the Matriarch. It soon frees itself from Ru's atmosphere magic, and goes after the Agate. The chaos of the mesa simply grows from there, to the point it's having difficulty telling what was happening. It couldn't keep its eyes on all of the gembound here. Be prepared for every scenario. It made Ru's nervousness grow, and he shifts from foot to foot. Smoke grows from somewhere indistinct, perhaps one of the 'Storm' creature's lightning strikes? But not soon after the smoke is dampened by rainfall, and the others are rejoining the attack. Something is riding the matriarch, and the whole situation feels ridiculous.

Ru feels a bit annoyed when it notices the lizard distracting the matriarch from one of the champions, the yeti. The other champions surviving was not a part of its ideal scenario. They had an edge to them that these new gembound lacked. The champions were not as easy to ally with. At the very least, it hoped most of them would not survive. Though it was doubtful, knowing how skilled they were. Perhaphs the Agate was an exception, it if it proved to be a decent ally. But it could make do with this, currently.

It was time for Ru to step in. Ru snuffs out it's building anxiety, and sets its goal on helping take down the matriarch once more.

Ru attempts to summon its magic once more, scale, but this time attempting to suffocate the Matriarch. The spell doesnt go as planned. Not even a second into casting, they see a shadow dart down from above. Ru ducks their head, but the vulture still hits them, claws scraping against their neck and back with white hot pain. Ru hisses in pain, panic fully setting in, strategy barely a thought in their mind, and bucks wildly, trying to get the vulture from them.

BLACK OPAL
now is the climax the story that gives the demons and angels purpose

It was over for the Matriarch. There was no coming back from a torn gut and arteries here. The Black Opal calculated that she would drop dead soon, and then a trophy would be much easier to retrieve. Then again, he could just swipe one in her distracted state.

He over heard the Agate and the brothers' little spat. As he recalled, both parties were notoriously capricious, though he thought it was a little odd for the Agate to have shown mercy on the new ones. Despite their noble speech, the Opal wasn't convinced the cockatrice had a change of heart, and the brothers were right. The Opal knew all to well not to underestimate the so-called "weak". In truth, the most dangerous betrayal came from those least expected.

You're only weak when your dead.

Which reminded him; the fight wasn't over yet.

They had to bring down the Vulture Matriarch as soon as possible, before she could pull any unexpected tricks. The Opal rushed ahead of the Matriarch, excreting more and more of slime with each bound. "Hey!" He called out to Imp, and anyone else who could hear. "Drive her down here!" Flattening his fins, the Opal threw himself on his belly and slid along her landing path. He covered the ground in puddles of slick, clear-white mucus, careful to have it not lead over the cliff. With the slime trail laid, he quickly wriggled out of the way and whipped around. Hopefully, this would help bring her down for good.

Astraea narrowed his eyes at Vargas. He had hoped, since the Overseer hadn't said anything to begin with, he might not say anything at all. But now the subject was at hand—at, hoof?—and it seemed he would have to address it.

"I died," he said flatly. "I was reborn as this." It was clear he did not want to say anything more on the matter, so he shifted gears to the other question. "It is not over," he grunted to begin, gesturing with his nose toward the mesa. "They—oh," it dawned on him that Vargas did not know anything since the great awakening.

"Don't MENTION his ugly new form, Vargas, hahah!" Nemean warned with laughter when Astraea's words paused, shaking a tiny finger at Vargas. "He cannot SIT on the throne, his hair—"

"Nemean," came his voice, low and chilling. A warning in itself.

She puffed and crossed her arms. "He's mad," the sprite confirmed, patting his head. "About all of it."

Astraea did his best to ignore her, trying to fill Vargas in on the important details. "The Creator's Spire is gone, it has been replaced—and its magic births the Gembound, straight from a chrysalis," he explained. "Many of them will fail. It is given. No architects have shaped them the way you were shaped." A steady sigh left his nostrils. "But it is not over. There are plenty left to hunt," he said, gesturing again toward the mesa with a wicked smile. "They need the aid of one another, but it is not so bad. At least they are still being born, one way or another," he shrugged with the last bit. The caves were active, and so it was not over. It would never be over. Not as long as he lived.