With the cry of a raven and the howl of a wolf, the next phase of our battle was started. Now, there were no longer four individuals fighting, it was only us, united in common purpose as a pack, willing to do whatever was necessary to break through the elvish encirclement.

The Protector, now no longer split in two but united in body and mind, pounced forward, the speed enough to take the elves by surprise and suddenly, it was no longer they who pressured us, it was us, who forced them to react. Our previously stopped momentum started to pick back up, the Protector clearing the way while we turned into her Shadow, following in her wake, deflecting attacks and creating openings.

The Blades of the Northern Wind swirled around us, their strikes not to kill but to parry and force the elves to react, each Blade capable of distracting one of the elves. And each time one of the elves came too close to our claws, their life would be ripped from their body and they would be tossed into their friends, where they would rise back up, hungering for their erstwhile allies' flesh. It was pandemonium and with every moment we fought, the chaos was growing.

Bodies started to pile in our wake, as not only our attacks but also the Shambling Husks and the Nethersprites started to take their toll on the elves, to say nothing of the many bodies the Protector produced in her furious rampage.

Each cleave of her mighty Lok’nar was enough to split the mountains, only that there were no mountains here, just the giants of the forest. And they, too, could be split, adding the groaning and rumbling of falling timber into the symphony of death we were conducting.

Pearls of laughter started to fall from our beak, echoed by howls of joy from our protector, as we started to revel in the slaughter, the sensation of crushing our foes beneath us exhilarating us in a way few things had. They were trying to stand in Our path, and We would not stand for it.

Soon, they no longer dared to approach, merely shooting arrows through the foliage, trying to slow us down that way. Our wings flapped, whipping up the wind and turning their rain of arrows into a mere drizzle and even helping to push us along.

Now, we were running free, dashing through the forest, occasionally sending out some Icicles or a howling wind of Death to keep the elves honest, while the Protector made sure that none of them could block our path. Joy was surging within the pack, our path to freedom was clear.

The forest started to open up before us, light shining onto a large clearing and suddenly, the Protector veered off, staying away from the open space and looking out, we could see a large group of elves, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds and before we could run far, a volley of arrows was launched our way, the wind around us sending them astray but it was enough to saturate the area, some of them glancing off the Protector’s aura that had spread around us, causing them to stumble.

We kept running, as only movement would keep us alive, if we stayed and fought, we wouldn’t go far. In anger, we started to send out blasts of cold, freezing a chunk of the elven forces that had dared to venture out in the open, forcing them to slow down.

There was another open area and this time, we had no choice but to enter it, despite the elves that were waiting for us, prepared in a battle line and ready to fight. With the river on one flank and elves ahead, in the rear and to our other flank, we could either break through the elves or try diving into the river, where the Naiads would be in their element and ready to tear us apart.

With a frenzied howl, the Protector charged ahead, their aura flaring with gold and crimson, their armour bathed in blood and their Lok’Nar gleaming in the sun and we kept up with them, staying as their Shadow, our magic striking the elvish lines and sending them to a cold grave. The line started to flex, elves getting pushed back or torn apart and for a moment, we felt victory in our grasp, only for more elves to pile on, fortifying their ranks, encircling and confining us.

Again, bodies started to drop around us but as if they were flies and we an open flame, they simply kept going, even as more and more shambling husks started to form and Nethersprites started to pop up again.

We needed to break them, to break through and the push to break them needed to be struck now, or this place would be our grave. Feeling the trust of the Protector, we reached out with our magic, ideas and concepts coming together, forming a coherent whole. The jewel set into our crown started to shine, the Blades of the Northern Wind forming a barrier around us, giving us the time we needed. Rising into the air, we flapped our wings and with that flap, we had sown the wind.

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Moments later, the air started to move and the winds we had sown started to swirl around us, forming a vortex before billowing outward, now freezing cold. Now, we were reaping the storm. It was no quick working, no mere cantrip or simple spell, what we had conjured up was a true blizzard, our magic changing the weather and radiating outward. In the winds, echoed our call, for we had called Winter and now, Winter was coming.

The chilling winds ripped the moisture from the air, gathering and turning it into hail, small, yet deadly, small icicles that moved around with lethal force, tearing through elven skin and flesh, at times even through their armour. But the hail wasn’t their biggest problem, no, their biggest problem was the cold.

The elves, adapted to their hot and humid forest, couldn’t withstand the arctic chill we had brought to their land, their movement slowing down and their weaker people quickly dropping, their bodies unable to withstand what we had wrought.

Victory in our grasp, we started to laugh and the howling of the pack joined in, while our Protector began to rampage, feeling right at home in the freezing winds.

Suddenly, a presence struck against us, powerful magic flooding the clearing we were on, the forest itself pushing against the storm and forcing it back, the cold we had conjured fighting against warm winds and humid air, life itself trying to push against the unnatural cold.

Oh, how we fought, the very elves around us becoming nourishment for our storm, their blood joining into the spell, sacrifices to our ambition but no matter how many we slew, more came and all the while, the dryads, their distant and content masters were warring with my storm, forcing it back again and again. The elves were dying and yet, we still couldn’t escape.

As exhaustion started to creep in, the storm started to slow down, our power dwindling and even the Protector was tired. Our bodies and minds were at their breaking point, a flickering flame on the verge of fading.

A howl echoed through the storm, the protector once again moving as a pair, no longer one, but two. Pushing ourselves to the limit, we forced our mind to work once more, a trickle of power flowing into us, the flame within us flaring once more as the trickle became a torrent of power, of warmth and comfort. Of home…

And with the flame within, a flame ignited around us, as inspiration struck us. These were our flames and in them, our enemies would burn. The winds around us ignited with ghostly, blue flames and the storm exploded outwards, blowing past any interdiction and resistance set up by our foes. There was no heat in our flames and yet, they burned the flesh, their touch cold enough to scour the flesh as they raced outward, washing across the clearing and into the forest.

Our power spent, the storm started to slow, unveiling a frozen tundra, so very much like home, inhospitable to most life and yet, it was where I longed to be. There were no more elves standing, nothing was standing, even the distant trees had been uprooted, their trunks shattered when the cold froze the water within.

Sinking to our knees, our mind and body shattered, breaking into two once again as we were utterly spent. Holding Lenore in my arms, I pushed myself to my feet, stumbling from exhaustion and looked around.

Seeing Sigmir’s form, lying motionless on the ground, shocked me enough to bring some semblance of order to my mind. As I stumbled forward, the lack of something registered in my confused mind, Sigmir’s presence, the comforting feeling that always protected me, was gone, I could feel Lenore’s mind, quite clearly thanks to holding her in my arms, and I could feel Ylva, who was panting nearby, but when reaching for Sigmir, there was nothing there.

Only the silence of an empty void.

Falling to my knees, I touched her face, gently caressing it in hopes that I was simply too exhausted, that my mind couldn’t process things but even when touching her face, there was nothing. No breath, no warmth, no reaction.

“No, no, no, no…” I began to babble, not wanting to believe this reality but regardless of how much I wished it to change, for it to be a simple nightmare or maybe a figment of my imagination, I couldn’t will reality to accommodate me.

Weeping over her body, my tears started to fall like rain, the drops freezing before they could hit the ground. With each caress of her face, I noticed a bit of dark, grey dust floating off and when I tried to reach out with my magical senses, her body suddenly started to collapse even faster, turning into dust and getting swept off by the wind.

The only thing remaining from her was her gear and a small, glowing crystal that I had never seen before.

“We need to go, she wouldn’t want you to fall here,” Lenore reminded me, her voice just as exhausted as I felt.

“Can you fly?” I asked her, knowing that it was our only way out. I had no idea how to take Ylva with us, but I could barely think anyway, grief ripping at my heart and mind.

Suddenly, a blue window appeared in front of me, right in the middle of my vision, demanding attention.

Mental parameters outside of safe values, emergency log-out initiated. 00:10

Knowing that I only had ten seconds, I grabbed Sigmir’s stuff and pushed myself into my Hallow, entering just in time before the familiar sensation of vertigo gripped me, ripping me out of Mundus.