THE RED LIONESS
by threefires
𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖽,
𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌.
𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉, 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖽,
𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌
PROLOGUE
the dance of the gold and crimson lions
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𝖲𝖮𝖱𝖱𝖤𝖫𝖫 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯-𝘗𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳.
𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗌; 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽𝗒.
𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗇, 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.
𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽, 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅 𝗀𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾.
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