Most of the time, you couldn’t feel islands crossing paths. Hundreds of giant land masses had been rounding the planet, passing each other in the sky for as long as time had existed, so it was usually a natural, seamless part of life. Meadows slid against valleys, mountains against vast plains. Forests against deserts—all within stepping or hopping distance from one another. 

On occasion, however, an island would drift a bit off course during its flight around the planet. This often made for a very loud, very shaky reunion as the drifting island ground against its passersby.

High Dawn’s low valley outcropping had finally made ground, sliding against the rocky ledges of Gog. But, just like the relationship between the horn goblins and the Fire-Kin Elves at the moment, this reunion of rock and grass was a bit … bumpy. 

The initial quake woke Lyra up. That night, she’d slept in the arms of her teacher and friend, while Jovi stroked her hair. Lyra was far past tears at this point. She’d emptied herself of those long ago. What remained now was a hollow and cold cave inside of her that harbored the tiniest flicker of a flame. A flame that sometimes emitted hope, but mostly rage. 

A few times that morning, some of the other women approached them to engage in conversation, but Lyra and Jovi politely kept to themselves. What was the point of sacks of meat making friends with other sacks of meat? It would only eventually bring more heartbreak anyway. 

Lyra watched the armies gather along the walls of High Dawn, just as the horn goblins were doing below her feet. From her perspective, across the way, her people were the size of ants. Little more than pin-pricks of red and yellow and white running along their own walls and atop buildings. 

Large fires accented the white stone that was used in most of High Dawn’s architecture behind the ever present mist. In the center of the green valley stood the White Castle, her home. It was a singular structure, the centerpiece of the entire island. Despite its base location at the lowest point of the valley, it stood taller than any other building on the mountains that surrounded it. 

Lyra could see cannons being loaded on both sides, but no shots were being fired. Not yet. Tensions were high, but the action was still cold. And she knew it was because of her that all this was taking place. She cursed herself for being so stupid. She cursed Rolo for doing what he did, for convincing her to spar with him on the edge of the valley that morning three crossing ago. 

Another quake shook the tower and pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked back at Jovi who’d been grinding something against a stone, some sort of ointment for bruises from moss and mud. The dryad was extremely resourceful, Lyra knew, and incredibly loyal. She was convinced she would have jumped months ago had it not been for her. She was filled with a sudden flood of love for the dryad, which brought a soft smile to her face. 

“Here you go,” said Jovi, slathering her concoction over Lyra’s bruised eye and breast. Lyra never had a mother. She’d died when she was very young, so the dryad had somewhat been there to fill that void. “Now, how bad is it … down there?” 

“I’m okay,” said Lyra, pulling her legs to her chest. “How are you?” 

Jovi smiled. “In the Ancient Wood on my island, I was once taken by the roots of a Cantapriss Tree during their mating season. It took months to flush out the sap it deposited, and I’ve never been quite the same since. Living here, compared to that experience, is quite tame, believe you me.”

Lyra gave Jovi a look of mixed amusement and horror. Jovi responded with a soft smile and a pat on the cheek. 

“Thirsty?” said Jovi?

“No, I’m okay. Thank—”

“You two!” came a voice, low and rough. Jovi and Lyra spun around to find two horn goblin guards approaching them. 

The women stood up, on their guard, ready for anything. The guards came to a halt. 

“Come with us,” said the tallest, ugliest of the two, pointing towards the spiral staircase. 

Lyra and Jovi looked at each other, eyebrows lowered. What was this all about?

“Does this have something to do with the Archon?” said Jovi. 

“Shut your whore mouth and start walking, wood wench.” 

The guards escorted Lyra and Jovi down the stairs, through a number of long corridors, and finally to a large wooden door. One of the guards pushed the door open and the other prodded the women inside. 

This room was well-lit with torches and shaped as a semi-circle, with wooden and stone tables, full of food and drink scattered throughout the curved side. Dozens of chairs were placed behind the tables, and in those chairs were horn goblins. Not just any horn goblins, however. The very elite of the ruling family appeared to be present, including the old and decrepit Horn Goblin King himself. All men, of course. The sexist bastards treated their own females almost as bad as they treated their sex slaves.

Lyra stopped cold when she saw Rolo against the wall on the flat side of the room. The Archon was completely naked, tied with cords at the wrists, which pulled his arms taut. And his ankles were tied against the wall on hooks rendering him incapable of any movement of consequence. His wings hung limp, spewing over the floor behind him, one of them obviously broken. 

There were stains across Rolo’s chest and thighs. Apparently it was good breakfast sport to fling food at constrained prisoners. This was confirmed when the group behind the tables erupted with laughter when a lamb leg smacked Rolo in the face.

An old horn goblin in a gray robe was inspecting the archon’s wing, poking and prodding it. Beside him was a wheeled-cart full of potions and strange, surgical instruments. The cart was large enough to hold a body or two. 

When the Warden saw the two women escorted in, he stood up from his own table and approached them. 

“Ah, yes, here they are,” he said, nodding to their escorts. “I’ll take it from here boys, you can return to your posts.” 

The guards hesitated, then one of them spoke. “Uh, sir, could we uh … well, could we participate in the … event here along with—”

“Get your fucking pricks back to your posts right now, that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guards in unison. They turned about face and left, closing the large wooden door behind them. 

The Warden put an arm around Lyra and Jovi—one arm was large enough to encompass them both—and walked them to the center of the room. 

“Brethren,” called out the Warden. “My friends, my King—Good morning to you all. I do hope you’ve enjoyed your morning meal thus far. And the … target practice.” Laughter filled the room. “Today, we have brought you something special. A treat, to say the least. As you can see, we’ve captured one of the most sought after, rarest of birds in existence. An Archon. Most of you have never experienced the sweet bliss an archon can provide. It is … that is … well, there are no words to describe the magic, the experience. You’ll understand what I mean in a moment.” 

The Warden turned back to Jovi and Lyra. “To aid us in this endeavor are two of my highest priced lambs. A simple look at the pair and you’ll understand why.” The Warden slid the back of his clawed hand down the side of Lyra's neck. She quickly pulled away and gave him an unmistakable glare. “Not only are they beauties,” continued the Warden, chuckling. “This one, as you may know, is the very daughter of King Leon himself, our rather touchy neighbor currently knocking at our gates.” 

There was a rush of conversation, followed by some giggling. 

The Warden cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and leaned towards the crowd. “If only he knew what we were doing with his daughter,” he said, and the crowd burst into laughter. Even the old king’s face clenched into a wrinkly mass of mirth at that remark. 

The Warden gave Lyra a pat on the shoulder and promptly sat down at a table on the first row. 

The horn goblin in the gray robe took the Warden’s place beside the women. He pulled a short knife from his side and held it up, allowing it to glisten in the torchlight. 

At the site, Lyra’s eyes went wide and she stumbled back into Jovi. Laughter filled the room again. 

“Fret not, woman,” said the old goblin. “The blade is not for you.” He turned and addressed the excited, gathered group. “I am Kob, the king’s personal physicar and head alchemist. I am here to prepare your bodies to receive today’s gift and monitor your vital organs throughout the process.” 

Kob approached the Warden, who held out his forearm. Kob placed the knife against the skin and sliced a cut deep enough to run blood down both sides of his arm. He stepped to the side and did the same thing to another horn goblin.

Lyra covered her mouth in shock and looked at Jovi, who was nodding her head. 

“What’s going on?” said Lyra.

Jovi looked at her, then motioned to Rolo, who’s head hung low. As the physicar made his way around the room, slashing arms, Lyra put it together. The horn goblins were going to use them to … extract Rolo’s magical seed, and then in turn … 

Lyra jumped when the physicar stepped in front of her, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“You two,” he said, pointing the knife back and forth from Lyra to Jovi, “must heed my instructions precisely to avoid any … unwanted outcomes, do you understand?”

Jovi held Lyra’s shoulders and nodded. Lyra’s eyes drifted back towards Rolo. She watched his wings twitch pitifully as he lifted his head, resting it against the wall. 

Kob snapped. “Are you listening, girl?” Lyra blinked, then slowly turned to face Kob, an empty, blank stare on her face. 

“You both are to extract the semen from this … specimen by whatever means necessary, and to collect the entire contents in this flask here.” Kob handed Jovi a large wooden cup. 

“I caution you not to spill a single drop. We do not know if the Archon will survive the process and we don’t want any of it to go to waste. Also, if you choose to use any … orifices to induce the ejaculation, we expect you to spill whatever you collect into the flask as well, do I make myself clear?”

There was a rush of conversation behind the tables, some laughter, rude gestures, but mostly grunts and other impatient sounds. 

“Get on with it already,” shouted someone in the back. 

“If I was an Archon, I’d cut off my own dick,” said someone else. 

A moment passed, after which Kob prodded the two women towards the wall. 

“What happens if they can’t do it?” said a voice. “I hear these buggers are trained.” 

As the women approached the archon, Jovi whispered clarification in Lyra’s ear. “Archons are trained at their academy to resist sexual stimulation. They use a similar mind over matter technique I taught you. You have to make sure you have his full attention if we’re to be successful. I don’t know what they’ll do to us if we’re not.” 

Lyra watched Rolo’s hairless chest rise and fall as she stopped in front of him. She made eye contact with him, and slowly touched the cut above his eye. He blinked at her, then sucked in a breath. 

“Please,” whispered Rolo. “Don’t.”

Lyra stood on her toes and put her lips to Rolo’s ear. “If I make you cum, will it hurt you?”

“Quite severely, unfortunately,” said Rolo. 

Lyra breathed hot and heavy into his ear. “Good,” she said, then softly bit his lobe just as the island rumbled once again.