Sylvia checked over her shoulder, holding her hood over her silver hair to keep it from gleaming in the moonlight and revealing her. Certain no one was following, she entered the darkness of the underpass of the bride above her. The beams supporting were old, weathered and cracked in a few places. She pressed forward even once the light of the street was absorbed by the shadows of the tunnel. Having been here time and time again, she new what steps to avoid. Stray left to avoid the jutting rock. Big step to pass over the crevasse in the ground. Drag your hand on the right wall until to find the turn. Then follow that path until it opened up to a cliffside. Carefully tiptoe along the edge, falling would mean death. Continue until you get to the sewer gate then throw the latch open, then, avoid the sludge, climb inside.

Here there were luminescent molds that grew on the ceiling in patterns that reflected the night sky, illuminating the passage until a service passage was found. At the end of that was the heavy door, and behind it opened up to a high vaulted room, regularly cleaned and maintained.

This was the meeting place of the Dragons, a select group of women fighting for their rights. Sylvia smiled at the girls in the room and her. Slowly, the quieted, looking at their leader, who finally let her silver braid fall loose. She moved the center of the room, getting a woman with brown hair who bore no resemblencte to Sylvia herself.

“Greetings sister.” Sylvia smiled.

“Good evening sister. How’s the over world treating you?”

“What can I say?” Sylvia shrugged. “Its a man’s world. I think it’s time we change that.” She grinned as she unfurled her map next to her sister’s hand-drawn map of the tunnels.

“Where would you like to strike?”

Before Sylvia could respond, the door creaked open. She turned around and faced a man. She didn’t pay attention to his features.

“Kill him.”

The girls were on him in a moment.

“Wait, please! I want to help!” He said.

Sylvia held up a fist and her warriors froze, keeping him secure, but only held the knife against his throat.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Roman.”

“Well, Roman, give me one good reason not to slit your throat and let you bleed out.”

“I know where your sister is, Diana, I know where they’re keeping her.”

The room was deadly quite as Sylvia drew her own knife.

“Diana. Diana is dead.”

“No, she’s not. I can help you.”

“Even if I did believe you, why should I trust you.”

“Because I’m prince Roman Grinella. If you help me overthrow King Rollan, I can give you and all women in the kingdom a place beside men.”

Sylvia looked him over quietly.

“Take him to a cell.” She said sharply. Once he was out of the room, Sylvia walked back over to Penelope.

“You’re not going to trust him, are you sister?”

“Trust him, never. Believe him?”

Sylvia paused. She swore she could still see Diana’s green eyes, her silver hair whipping in the wind that carried her laughter.

“Perhaps.”