The Valley was quiet when Meg opened her eyes, but there was a tingling in the back of her mind.

She blinked once, slowly, and moved her head around to gaze out the window, where moonlight was streaming in past the curtains to create dancing patterns on her quilt. She heard nothing from outside save the hum of the locusts and the low whisper of the wind streaming through the tree branches, and for a second she almost considered going back to sleep. She let her hands run over the quilt, fingers tracing the embroidered stitches that she knew by heart, and concentrated on the buzzing in her veins. It was adrenaline, and it was a warning, though she knew not what it was trying to warn her of.

She resigned herself to get up then, and went to stand by the bedroom window, watching the leaves twirl in the breeze. The orchids growing just past the side of the house were in full-bloom, petals curving gentle to each side, and they were waving slightly, almost like hands, like outstretched fingers pointing in all directions. She shivered and reached for her robe, shrugging it on over her shoulders, and then hugged the soft material closer to her chest. Her senses were alive with apprehension, but there was nothing to validate her fears, and she began to feel foolish giving in to such childish thoughts.

Still, her intuitions were rarely wrong, and she moved slowly to the door, hand pausing momentarily over the brass handle before grasping it and pulling the portal open. The house was dark and still, with no sign of activity, and she moved quickly to the smaller room off of the hallway, next to her own. The door was cracked open, leaving a small slit that she could gaze through, and she could hear the steady rhythmic sounds of breathing. Meg stayed outside of the door for several minutes, gazing in on the small girl's peaceful sleeping face, trying to decipher what the warning in her head was about if it was not centered around her daughter.

There was a noise outside, faint, like the beating of a drum, and she walked to the large living room to look out the window there. There were lights on the horizon, many lights, and they were lined up above the mountains. Meg stared at them for a moment, thinking perhaps they were shooting stars or bursts of energy, and then the truth began to click into her head, her thoughts reeling. They were airships, and they were moving towards the Valley over the hills, and the drum-like beat was the pounding of their propellors against the night air. For a very long second she could do nothing other than stare up at them glimmering in the darkness, and then her body flew into action.

She raced into her daughter's room, shoving the door open with one hand, and the noise woke the girl up slightly. Her small form sat up in the expanse of the bed, and the blankets seemed to pool around her. She rubbed her eyes with her fists, staring blearily at the shadows in front of her.

"Mama?" she asked, her syllables slurry with sleep.

"Get up," Meg instructed her, grabbing a small cloak that she could fasten around the girl's neck. "Get up and follow me."

The girl did as she was told, but she moved slowly, groggy still, and Meg clipped the fabric quickly onto the straps of her daughter's nightgown. Then she grabbed a leather sack that cinched at the top and reached for the little girl's hand, nearly dragging her out of the bedroom.

"Hurry," she hissed sharply as the girl fell moving through the sitting room. The child said nothing, but steadied herself on her feet, her chubby fingers wrapped so tightly around Meg's own that she couldn't feel her hand. She went to the dresser sitting near the front door, covered with dried flowers and clay plates, and pulled open the first drawer so hard that it nearly fell completely out of the bureau. Inside it was her collection of beads, herbs, and lead-stopped bottles. She reached blindly, pulling out as many as she thought would fit into the satchel, and shoved them inside, cinching the bag when it was bulging and full.

"Hurry!" she said again, pulling her daughter out of the house. Outside of the confines of the structure, she could hear the beating of the propellers far clearer, and wondered how it had taken her so long to identify the source and cause of the noise. The lights of the airships were growing closer, like fireflies up near the clouds, moving steadily towards the village nestled within the valley. Meg knew not why the fleet had come to their settlement, nor what the ships promised, but she knew that the beating of the propeller blades sounded like death knolls sounding in the distance, and she began to run, pulling the small chid behind her.

"Mama, wait!" the girl cried out, and the sobs were audible in her warbling tone. "Wait!"

Meg shook her head even though her daughter could not see her action, her hair whipping across her face, catching between her parted lips. There was a cave near the narrow beginning of the valley, and Meg knew it well, and she knew that the air within it seethed with unused magical energy. It was a source of power and abilities, and now she needed both, and she led her daughter closer to it as the pounding of the airships sounded closer and closer behind her. The small child was crying openly now, tears streaming down her cheeks as her uncovered feet caught on branches and weeds, but Meg had little time to spare worrying about insignificant injuries. They were almost at the mouth of the cave, and the airships were almost over the village.

The mist that clouded the confines was trickling out into the shadows of the valley itself, and Meg hurried into it, hoping that the fog would buy her the time she needed. She let go of Rydia's hand and the girl fell to all fours, sobbing into the grass, but Meg merely opened the satchel and took out a handful of herbs. The dried fragrance would speed the workings of the magic, and time was of the essence. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the particles floating around her, waving themselves around her head, clustering on her forehead. They were warm with energy, buzzing almost, and they resonated until the air in front of her exploded with activity, and the arrival of the massive form caused a light so bright it hurt her eyes to flash and then disappear.

"Mama?" the child asked, awed.

"You summoned me," Leviathan said, his voice booming around Meg's form. The vibrations from his deep vibrato caused her arms and legs to tingle, and she could hear the propellers behind her hovering now. She did not look back, for she could not risk losing her composure or concentration. The King of Summons was coiled in front of her, the bright blue of his scales blurring together as the Mist tumbled and rolled around them all.

"Take her," Meg said, swallowing hard, pulling the child up from the ground. "Take her and keep her safe."

"I do not grant favors, Summoner," Leviathan boomed, and the little girl cowered and threw her hands up to cover her face. There was a tense moment of silence, and then Meg could hear the shouts of surprise and alarm coming from the other structures in the village. From the din came shrieks of pain, followed by shouts that she could not decipher. The noise was increasing, and it was moving her way, and she tightened her grip on her daughter's arm.

"You must grant me this," Meg demanded, pushing the child forward so suddenly that she nearly fell. Her little hands hit against Leviathan's smooth scales, and she cried out in fear, and then the King of Summons wrapped his tail around her as if to keep her steady and close to his side. The girl's eyes were wide and brimming with unshed tears, the moisture glimmering in the moonlight, and Meg's heart leapt to her throat.

"Keep her safe," she repeated, unable to tear her gaze away from her daughter's upturned face. "Please."

There were shouts behind her now, getting closer, and she could hear one deep voice yelling for reinforcements. She had precious seconds until she was discovered, and the din behind her had grown eerily quiet. She could no longer hear the screams of her townsfolk, and her stomach was twisted in horrible knots.

"Go," she said, losing control on the tears she was fighting to keep inside. She reached out and grabbed her daughter's hand, which was shaking and cold. "Be brave, Rydia. Be brave for me."

"Mama!" the little girl shrieked as Meg pulled away, her chubby fingers grasping at the air in front of her. "Mama!"

"Go!" Meg cried out, meeting Leviathan's narrowed eyes. "I release you, go!"

There was a single moment in which the King of Summons and her child shimmered in the air, like a mirage on the Damcyan desert twisting in the bright sunlight, and then they were both gone, and most of the Mist with them. Meg stood for a moment, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, sobs threatening to overtake her, and then there were voices behind her. She turned, hands ready to cast a spell, but there was a shout and a popping sound, and then she could not speak. She tried to run, but she was unable to move, and then there was a jolt to the back of her neck, like a bolt of lightning, and her vision exploded with red and then faded to black, and then she could feel nothing else besides the grass under her cheek when she fell onto the ground.