Minutes had passed.
Too many.
Nothing stirred.
Rasha and Talo sat exactly where Sybil had told them to—still, silent, restrained.
But that restraint was beginning to fray.
Their fingers twitched.
Muscles tensed.
Talo flexed his grip on his staff.
Rasha shifted her footing every few seconds, her breath too shallow.
Still, Sybil didn't move.
She stood in the center of the clearing, utterly calm, her tiny frame silhouetted by the waning light.
Not a single tremble in her stance. Not even a blink.
Her arms were at her sides, eyes fixed ahead—
as though she were waiting for the very moment her life had been born for.
Rasha whispered, barely turning her head,
"She hasn't moved. How can she just... stand there?"
Talo's voice was low, dry with tension.
"I don't think she's waiting. I think... she knows."
Rasha exhaled slowly, then murmured,
"But what if she's wrong?"
Her voice cracked just slightly.
"What if nothing's going to happen?"
Talo opened his mouth to respond—
—and the air screamed.
A high, shrill cry sliced through the distance—too fast, too sharp.
But even before the sound reached them, Sybil was already in motion.
She raised her left arm across her chest, hand closing mid-air as if grasping something invisible.
Her fingers curled tightly. A whip.
She pivoted on the ball of her left foot and lashed her arm out to the right like cracking the sky open.
A second shriek followed—then a SNAP!—the harsh, unmistakable sound of two mana whips colliding.
A moment later, the sound of a whip meeting flesh tore across the air.
Then—
A scream.
Sybil's right hand raised behind her back.
A single, subtle gesture: Wait.
Rasha and Talo froze.
From the shadows, a woman's voice rang out, amused and cruel.
"Well, well… what do we have here?"
The figure stepped forward into the clearing—tall, long-limbed, lean, and smug.
Her hair was a wild sweep of silver-blonde, tied in a high knot.
Her gear was lightweight, desert-stitched and battle-worn, functional but clearly chosen with care.
Combat wraps wrapped her midsection, and a sand-colored half-cloak fluttered behind her.
"Little mongrel fights back," she laughed.
"I guess you've got no choice, huh? All alone out here…"
Talo's eyes sharpened.
From where they were seated, they realized—they couldn't be seen.
Sybil had deliberately positioned herself to obscure them from view.
Rasha whispered,
"That's why she made us sit here."
Talo gave the slightest nod and leaned close.
"Ready your weapons. Minimal movement. Don't extend past her shadow."
Sybil's silhouette, cast long by the angle of the light, painted a perfect barrier.
A low growl joined the tension.
Snuggles—silent until now—stepped from behind Sybil, hackles raised.
His eyes locked on the woman, his growl low and guttural.
"Oh? Not completely alone," Vaera grinned.
"You've got that little Dread Stalker with you. Cute. But it's just a pup. That thing can't help you."
Sybil raised her voice, firm and clear.
"I'm not going back to Master Merrick. I won't."
She took a breath.
"I want to live with my mommy and daddy."
Vaera cackled.
"You little piece of trash. No one loves you. You've got no one to turn to but Merrick."
She dropped into a fight stance.
"And I will be taking you back."
She grinned wider.
"Brone was too cautious, wanting to wait and surround you. Not me. I'll have you in hand before he even gets here. And since you want to play tough…"
She cracked her neck.
"I won't be using kid gloves."
With a snap of her wrist, she lashed her air whip again—
but Sybil met it with her own.
A loud crack! echoed as the two mana threads collided.
Snuggles suddenly turned his head to the right and snarled.
"Tch." Vaera frowned.
"So much for an ambush. That stupid pup can smell the others."
Leaves rustled beyond the treeline.
She muttered,
"Doesn't matter. This fight's already over."
She struck again with her air whip, but Sybil was ready, deflecting it yet again.
But Vaera wasn't finished.
She released the whip, and in a split second, she launched a powerful blade of wind at Sybil.
The force of it sent the smaller girl hurtling across the clearing, bouncing off the ground several times before she slid to a stop, leaving a trail of dirt behind her.
The battlefield erupted all at once.
And in that instant—Vaera realized it.
The position. The angle of the light. The stillness.
The deliberate pause before the first strike.
None of it was coincidence.
It was all planned.
She hadn't walked into a duel.
She'd walked into a trap.
Rasha sprinted toward Sybil.
Snuggles lunged, catching Vaera's forearm in his teeth.
Talo exploded forward, sweeping his staff from right to left and releasing a roaring wave of fire.
Sybil, already halfway to her feet, raised her hand weakly and whispered,
"Get behind me."
Rasha caught the words and moved without hesitation—
only to pause mid-step.
Sybil was… standing.
Shaken, scraped, but standing.
Rasha stepped in front protectively, placing herself between Sybil and danger.
And in that moment, a deeper fear struck her—
if Sybil could recover from a blast like that without flinching, without crying…
what had Merrick done to her?
What kind of pain had this child grown used to?
A gust of wind blasted Snuggles away—Vaera's retaliation—
but the moment she cast it, Talo's firewave struck.
Too late to react.
It crashed into her and her two companions, knocking all three back in a burst of heat.
Talo snarled and planted his feet.
His promise to protect Sybil had already been broken—
and he was done holding back.
He whipped his staff again and hurled three massive fireballs—
one to the left, one to the right, and one directly center.
The side shots struck their targets hard, erupting in bursts of flame.
The center?
It vanished midair, snuffed out like a candle.
Wind twisted in its place.
Vaera's mocking laugh rang out.
"Hah… fat trimmed," she said, eyeing the fallen mercenaries. Then back at Talo.
"Your fire won't work on me."
Rasha tensed, but Sybil touched her shoulder gently.
"Don't worry," she whispered.
"He'll win. I can still see pictures after this. Just… not this part."
She reached down and patted Snuggles as he limped back to her side.
"You did exactly what I needed you to do, boy."
Talo advanced, fire surging stronger than ever before—hotter, wilder, filled with purpose.
He tried to close the distance, sending volley after volley of fireballs.
But Vaera kept retreating, countering with pinpoint accuracy,
each blast of wind hitting at just the right spot to destabilize his flames.
She was fast.
Smart.
Experienced.
"She's been listening to Sybil," Talo realized.
"She knows how to break my rhythm."
He swept another wave to keep pressure and backed off.
Then he paused.
A breath.
A memory.
Rasha—from their early training.
"Fire doesn't have to kill," she had said.
"Use it to guide. To blind. To fake them out."
He smiled.
That spark became a plan.
"Vaera," he called,
"You're well-trained. Too bad you're still going to lose."
She scoffed.
"Empty threats. I can handle fireballs all night."
Talo began to walk.
Not fast. Not slow.
Measured.
Confident.
He launched smaller fireballs now—faster, lighter, timed with care.
One veered left. Another, right.
One flew behind her.
Vaera narrowed her eyes.
She spun, forming a cyclone of wind around her—a defensive twister.
The fireballs struck the spinning wall of air.
Some fizzled. Some deflected.
She yawned mockingly.
"This is your plan? You're just wasting your energy."
She smirked, thinking back to Brone's orders.
Stall them. Don't die.
Five more mercenaries burst into the clearing, flanking from behind.
Talo's staff moved like a blur—
fire waves erupted toward the newcomers to slow them—
then he whipped back toward Vaera—
then toward them again.
He was holding the line on both fronts while closing the distance.
Vaera barked from within her cyclone,
"Why are you coming toward me? I'm the one person you can't even touch."
Talo didn't speak.
He just smiled.
"You're one of those battle-crazed die-with-honor types?" she mocked.
"So boring. I swear—"
She stopped.
Her chest… didn't rise.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
The sweat on her brow stung her eyes.
It's hot.
Too hot.
She looked down.
The grass at her feet glowed faint red—not burning, but radiating.
The twister around her, once a shield, had become a furnace.
A prison of rising heat and thinning air.
He's cooking the oxygen out of the cyclone.
Panic clawed at her throat.
A fireball surged toward her.
She lashed out with a blade of wind—
—but the fireball exploded in a flash of searing white light.
A flare.
Blinding.
She raised her arm to block the light—
—and that was her mistake.
Talo was behind it.
He crashed through the cyclone, staff blazing white-hot,
and slammed it into her stomach.
Her body launched like a ragdoll.
She hit a boulder—
CRACK.
The sound wasn't just impact.
It was final.
"VAAAEERAAAAA!"
Brone's roar ripped the air—rage and heartbreak fused into one cry.
He stood at the edge of the battlefield, wide-eyed,
frozen for half a second before racing toward her crumpled form.
Twelve more mercenaries poured in behind him.
Chaos exploded again.
Snuggles lunged into battle with a snarl.
Rasha roared and ignited her own fire, slicing through the crowd.
Sybil clutched a spare blade in both hands, defiant and wild-eyed.
Talo spun like wildfire—his form fluid, blazing, beautiful—
—but now they were outnumbered.
Twenty mercenaries total.
Some new, some seasoned.
Talo struck two men down with his staff, his flames too slow for close range.
Then—
"YOU!!"
The bellow was deep, hateful.
Talo turned—
Brone.
He didn't charge.
He raised a hand.
The ground beneath Talo exploded, launching him skyward.
Talo twisted mid-air, trying to right himself.
Just as he was about to make a perfect landing—a slab of earth struck him out of nowhere.
CRUNCH.
He flew, slammed into the ground,
and this time… didn't rise.
Blood pooled beneath his ribs.
His chest heaved once.
Then stilled.
"Nooooooooooo!!"
Rasha's scream split the clearing.
Raw.
Horrifying.
Unmistakable.
The entire battle froze in place.
The forest held its breath.
Her world had just…
collapsed.