Lilyshade was not the largest horse of their lot. But by all the gods as witness, the mare was blazing fast.

The dark trees passed by Nallia in a blur of bark and twig, and where she rode there became a long trail of dust behind her. The lights of the midnight sky were still tucked beneath the clouds, and for any normal man, it would be hard to see straight. But not for a Nyx. Her kind were made for the night. And she saw fine in it.

“Faster, Lilyshade. Faster!”

Her mare was breathing hard, and every hoof strike was a crack like a chisel mining stone. Nallia had warned her kin of her return when Ander left her sight to chase that foul creature. She had kept a Hearingfly in her garbs whispered with a message of arrival to take into the air on small beating wings. She could only imagine the state of the stronghold. From the first step Ander took out of the bulkhead door, she was no far behind, whether on horseback or swift and shadowy feet. The others had awoken to no clue of their departure, and the Hearingfly was the first word returned.

At last, the looming cliff she called home spread across her vision, and the path she traveled upon became more trodden. The lights behind the small windows of the stronghold were lit, and silhouettes walked before them. Even from a distance, she could tell they were hurried actions. Surly, her word had made them aloof, and ripe with concern. For her own concern was near suffocating.

Ander, though he may be flawed, was still her brother. As much as they all were her kin. In times was the boy a student, and in others a training partner, and until late, a capable thief. Such labels only made that night more the stranger. What business did he have with that monster? She had kept a far distance during her tracking, and little of his words found her ears. It was all still an enigma.

With a pull of the reigns and stirrups, Lilyshade came to a halt before the entrance to the stronghold. The front gate had been left ajar. And it was silent. Wholly silent, with not even a sound escaping the inside of her home, if there were any. She fell from her saddle with grace to leave Lilyshade in the courtyard, walking to address the door. She made no nock, and with a hasty push, she entered.

“At last!” Bella shot up from the den’s cushion-bench.

“You received my message, yes?” Nallia asked, pulling back the mantle of her cloak. “Has everyone heard the news I bring?”

“That we have,” replied Damien. He was leaned against the wall adjacent to the entrance, with a bow strapped across his chest, and a quiver blooming with arrows upon his belt. The first thing she noticed of him was his forehead scar.

“You could have left a note,” Thaddeus was not far across from Damien and was sat on a stool. The archer was dressed in linen garments, with no footwear at all.

In the dark of the den, before the hearth which burned with no flame, Sylas stared out a window. There was not enough light for Nallia to find his face, but she could feel the aura coming off his form. She knew her leader’s anger when she saw it. And as expected, a fierce storm was brewing inside him. She could the wind already.

“I could not have,” she turned to Thaddeus. Out of the four, only Damien and Bella looked remotely prepared. And with good reason. Perchance Ander was to face this threat alone. In the end, it was not her choice to make. She loved Ander, but would all of their deaths be a worthy offering for a single chance at life? “There was not enough time.”

“Of course there was not,” he sneered.

“Lay off.”

“You take no tone with me, boy,” the older archer stared up at his apprentice. Damien yielded no fear, and Nallia did her best to repress her reply. The gods knew how she felt when the master berated his mentor.

What a sick thing, she thought. Ander is a hair’s breath from death, and I am most torn over a remark.

“When are we to leave?” Bella asked. Her body was turned toward Sylas to await a response. Nallia had little hope it would be the reply the magii wished. If there was ever a man as pragmatic as Sylas Lone while sober, then such a man would be a thing of legend. They all knew the black-haired thief’s answer before he spoke.

“Who said… We would leave.”

“You can’t mean it?” Bella said, breathless.

“He does mean it, and he’s right by it. You ought to listen,” added Thaddues. A rude glance was sent his way by the magii, but it did nothing to deter the archer’s mind. “If the boy’s so keen on taking his own life, why must we ride out and kill ourselves with him?”

“Do you not care for him?”

“As much as any of you!” Sylas stole Thaddeus’ reply. He turned on his heels, eyes full of fire with his hands taught across his chest. His rage filled the room, with substance so real it could be cut by a knife. “As much as any other damn fool who knew him!... I took him him. I put clothes on his back and a roof over his head and a meal in his belly and he turned around and stabbed me!”

“He stabbed no one.”

“Did he?” Sylas marched forward. “Did he now? We taught him how to live as we do, and how to fight as we do. We invested months, no, a year whole, with spare, into forging him into one of us, and now, that year and spare is gone! What was it all for? So he could go run off and die?”

“You!” The axman levied a hand at Nallia. It made her stir. “Why the hell is he out there? Why the hell did you not stop him?”

“I trailed him for a whole day!” She said, her confidence swelling. She realized then that there was no sight of Leon.

“Could you have stopped him? Could have sparred us this fate?”

“...”

“Unbelievable,” the man tossed his hands in the air. “To think I’ve roomed with such morons and imbeciles this whole time.”

“She is not an imbecile.”

The venom in Damien’s words was beyond lethal, and all of their heads were turned toward him. Not another word flowed from the archer’s lips, and all was quiet for that time. Even Sylas had no reply and went on only in ignorance of it.

“He made his choice to die, and I will honor that choice.” Sylas had his back turned to them now, his eyes lost on some visage out the window. “My only goal this whole life we've lived as one has been keeping us alive. Witnesses, victims, raiders, barbarians and soldiers, and all the lot. I dealt with them all to keep your hearts beating and your blood flowing. If he is so KEEN on throwing that out, then I do not pity his soon-to-be cold corpse!”

“And none of you will have leave to go die beside him!”

Their leader’s verdict was read, and the law was cast. None had the strength to oppose him, and even Bella fell back upon her seat, her face covered in her hands. The woman did not weep, for her tears were staved off by will. But do not be deceived. The tears were there.

*Swoosh*

The door leading to their cells shot open, and out of the stone-rimmed walkway marched a spirit of resolve. It was Leon, dressed in his salvaged mail and fastened plate. An image as close to an Ironvaurd as Nallia had ever seen. The steps he took forward were a booming presence. And the hair on her neck shot up. Never before had she seen such determination on the swordman’s face. Perchance our leader’s law is not absolute.

“And where are you going, brute?” Sylas pivoted to face the warrior. Leon gave no response until he reached the door, and only then did he turn. “You hear me, blonde? I said, where do you think you’re going?”

“...I am going to do right by my apprentice…”

His voice was so low and worse so much rasp that it was near intelligible. But no one had trouble hearing it.

“Like hell you are,” Sylas made for the door, standing between it and the steeled man. They stood not too different in height, but Leon had the advantage. It was gold against black, and neither had the will to yield.

“Oh yeah?” Leon laid a hand on the hilt of his longsword. It was a clear message and one that Sylas did not expect. There was no hint of levity in those two words, nor the words that followed. “... Look into my eyes… How are you going to stop me?”

“I will carve you limb from limb to save your life,” Sylas inched closer, undeterred. “The moment you leave this door, you know exactly what fate will befall you.”

“Then so be it,” spat the swordsman. The rest of the clan was dead quiet, and even Nallia was truly shaken. It was a great feat to intimidate a Nyx, and these two men had done just that.

“You would die, all so you could die beside your stupid stu-”

*Smack*

The back of Leon’s padded hand struck Sylas on the cheek, and their leader’s head rolled with the bash. It was not a hard it, and not certainly a willful one. The swordman’s hand seemed to slow in the midst of it as his reason returned. But it was clear his pride had spurred it on.

“Do not,” Leon raised a finger. “Do not insult him, again. He is my student and my honor.”

Sylas made his height with his jaw partly agape, and his eyes wide with shock. Never once had his kin raised to defy him, and never once had they struck down his word, and certainly not his side face. His black eyes scanned the faces of all that were present, and when he found matching stares of awe, he found again the blonde mess of mane and determination before him.

What came next was a sure surprise to Nallia.

“I will yield you twenty words,” the axman sounded. “And if you have any reason - an ample reason - and true reason moreover… Then we will save your precious student, so he may die another day… Twenty words. Use them well, Blade.”

“Ander’s… more than my student. He’s my brother. And yours too… He’s risked death for us before… We owe him life.”

“That was twenty-one,” Came Thaddues. The archer made his feet and stretched out his back. “Invalid.”

“So out of twenty, one makes all the difference,” the blonde Lone turned to his brother. “But out of us seven, one is worthless?... He almost died fighting the Freemans. He saved Damien’s life at great cost of his own. Bella may have healed him, but healing will only bind so much. He stayed alive and marched ten miles while dragging a bear just for us to let him in… Nallia, your message told me he faced this beast before. With another?”

“Yes, that is true,” she replied.

“And after that, Ander lives to face it yet again?”

“That is true as well.”

“So, tell me, great leader,” Leon shifted to stare down at Sylas. “If a bear couldn’t kill him at his lowest, and three seasoned savages couldn’t kill him as a novice. And a whole pact worth of soldiers couldn’t trap him in a rowboat. And an Inagnivorr failed to slew him… Then tell me, after all of that, what makes you think he’s ready to lie down and die?”

“...”

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

It was an inferno. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The Iagnivorr had come for a small town south of Vimbaultir, and in its wake were homes frozen in ice, and all the rest consumed in a wilding blaze. The structures of homes and barns, and halls and shops, and taverns and all the like were felled in order. It was all quiet. Save for the cracks of fire, and the blood-curlting roar of the divine beast.

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

That, and the withered cry of a small girl. Her pale from was dressed in tattered clothes, and tears fell amply from her eyes. Always would she call the same words.

“Mommy!...”

“Papa!...”

“Mommy!...”

“Papa!...”

Her house was consumed in whole, and the flames danced in the reflection of her watering eyes. They were in there: her family. And she had not the strength to save them.

A loud commotion sounded from behind her, and she spun upon her scraped and bleeding knees. It was the monster that would forever haunt her. Soaked in all manners of gore, with a gullet of ice and fire, and teeth the size of her whole torso. Though it had no eyes, it saw her plane, and it let out a great cry.

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

“Mommy!” She screamed. Her voice broke, and the smoke was sheltered in her lungs. Through the coughs, she cried on.

“Papa!”

The Inagnivorr had found its next victim, and when its maw opened, the girl could only watch as an orange light took hold in its throat. The light grew deeper and darker, and larger than ever. And when her voice finally failed her, the beast reeled back to let out a torrent of flames. The rush was the final bash that broke the home, and the flames took it all in rabid hunger. All of the monster’s fire let loose, and its strength was never so great.

But when its throat ran dry of fire, there was only dust left in the air. But in that dust, a shadow rose, resolute. And in its hands burned two bright blades, and on its skin were the forever memories of infernos far, far stronger than the monster could ever conjure. The cloud settled, and the girl was unharmed.

She stirred, unsure if she was alive, but when she looked up, she saw a man, dressed in black. And she was wordless.

“RUN!” Shouted the man, his voice untamed with flame. “Leave, now!”

The girl did not reply as she made her feet, and off she ran. The flames marked her way, and her tears never stopped falling. But in her wake, was a hero, and when the monster roared again, did that hero call:

“YOU. WILL. FALL!”

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

The beast jerked forward, mouth agape as its mighty teeth came upon Ander. But none made their mark as he dashed to the side. A swipe at the side of its jaw let loose a fountain of blood, and in its glory did he find his strength. His swords burned with flames, and when he raised them high - falchion and broadsword - vengeance and duty - he buried them into the gravel earth to cry.

“Anos Naĥarē!”

The earth splintered with brimstone and flame, and the Inagnivorr danced upon the blaze. Though it spat such heat, it was just as susceptible to it. Such as a swordman is susceptible to steel. It cried, thrashing on the red and orange as Ander made his play. The man sped through the fire with ease to plant both of his hilts deep into the beast's flesh. His magic had kept them sharp even as they breached the ground, and now he kept them true as the monster rose above the earth.

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The flying growths struck at him, but with ease did he parry the volleys. Step by step, scale by scale. He climbed the monster, with its dorsal spikes being the final grip he needed to stand tall. And when he did, all of the claws and growth and razor tales were unleashed on him.

They came in pairs, but they all flew out alone. With one blade would he parry, and with the other, he would sever and cleave. His whole form was taken by the purple, and his eyes saw it all as if time was in half motion. The beast never failed to roar, nor did his battle cries ever go quiet.

“AHHHHH!”

Masses of flesh and scales piled on the ground, a massacre made by a single man, who wielded the strength of many. They were all with him. They all drove his blade, steadied his eyes, and pumped his blood with unmatched strength. No longer did his magic take its toll. His will forbade it, and with every clean cut did the fires of his heart roar louder.

At last, the beast’s tale turned over to hover above him. It was the girth of a tree and the length of nearly thirty yards. It had only one claw, but that was all that was needed. As it loomed, he stared it down without fear, and the fires on his blades churned harder and hotter.

*Strike*

*Strike*

*Slash*

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

As the tale came down again, its claw poised to split him in two, the warrior rolled forward to avoid its arc. He took his broadsword and buried it deep into the flesh of the growth. The monster let out a moan of pain, and the tale jerked up into the air. Ten yards. Fifteen yards. Twenty yards and some spare. It never stopped rising, and soon Ander found himself hung in the air by the hilt of his sword. But even as he looked down, he felt no fear.

He levied his falchion to slice deep into the flesh, and in a single pull, he cut the tale down its cross-section. He was sent into freefall, but only for a fraction of a second as he struck his blade into its tale once more. His fall was slowed, but it did not stop, and in a waterfall of purple blood he rode his way the whole length of the tale. When his feet finally touched the scale once more, the massive limb was nothing more than a hanging sack of meat. The monster he rode took no pleasure in this, and it howled with pain.

The tendrils and claws were rendered dead, and with feet as fast as an Alff’s, Ander dashed for the beast’s nape. But a sudden jerk took his legs out from under him, and he was tossed on his face. Still, he did not relent. The Inagnivorr snaked and thrashed about the burning village, yet its foe kept well a grip on the scales of its neck. Even when he slipped, Ander found a place on its face, right above its jaw.

When said jaw opened, and when he saw the blue light festering within, the boy released his grip to fall onto the upper story of a burning building. Its wall was taken down by the monster, and now he was staring down the range of a swift blizzard. As he ran, the ice trailed behind him, and he was forced to leap from the story to the ground below. Never once did the monster lose track of him, so as he ran about the gravel square, there rained down regrown claws and massive feet bidding to crush him dead. But he refused to go easily.

The beast would fall. It could count on that. And it could count the final minutes of its horrid existence.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Leon rode Gullen bent low, with his sword hung free at his side. His kin were masked in the dark beside him, all in a gallop to reach their stranded brother. Not a word had been spoken thus far in their ride, and Nallia led the pack. They had only a guess at where he could be, but in the far distance, a plume of smoke was rising, and the flash of fire was clear.

Whatever was there, and whatever was making those horrid noises, would soon be face-to-face with his kin.

And they were ready for it.

I’ll prove it, Ander. I am your master. I am your teacher… Mayhaps I have failed you, but I will NEVER leave you.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

Ander was thrown to the ground in a roll, thrashed by the scales of the beast’s strike. His blades left his hands, and his vision was sent into a spur. His mind had gone hazy, and nothing was seen right. Yet as a claw was thrust deep into the ground at his side, he regained his control in the face of death. More daggers fell, but none tasted flesh as he evaded them. He bolted up, ready anew against the monster.

The tides of fire and ice had torn the town apart. Never once did a cry sound from their catacombs. Ander scampered to his arms, and at once they were aflame. His whole body became aflame as he let out a mighty cry in the face of the beast. Another armored hand was swiped at him, but this one came off parried, and with both lit steels, did he riposte it between the scales. A glance at the remnants of the town brought him an idea, and he twisted his blades apart in a flash of purple blood.

With a hold on the Inagnivorr, he called upon the earth to pierce it in place. The spikes rose, and the jaws of the monster opened to cry a breath of flaming red. He evaded the flames, and in his escape, Ander found a post of a falling store. It was three stories high and held up by a thicket of broken wooden beams. His blades - still coated in flames and blood - struck true through the patch of wood. The building croaked and groaned, and in a flash, fell upon the Inagnivorr. Its mass quenched the fire breath, and its stone cut deep into the skin beneath the scales.

It was a great commotion, and the running air soothed the many fires of the town square. When the Inagnivorr rose, covered in soot and dust and rubble and splinter, it sported a mighty gash across its nape. And the light shine of reflected firelight came from its neck. The core was in the open air, and even through the mess of battle, Ander could see the single crack he had drawn in the battle of the Vernwood.

But though it was wounded, the monster’s spirit was not. It did not care well for the injury, and it healed quickly. But its rage did not heal, and it took up its assault with renewed vigor.

Streaks of claws and tendrils and arms came upon Ander. His steel was swift, and all his flames were roaring with might. But the mass was against him. The beast pressed forward, and he was ever on the retreat. But never once did he feel fatigued, and his mind raced with a thousand lost calls.

Ander, his father called.

Ander, his mother called.

His sister cried, Ander!

Ander! Came Nina.

Ander. Fight! Calvan roared.

“I will!”

For all he had lost, for all he had sacrificed, he struck back against every blow. His body bled and cried for him to stop, to falter and fall. But he bid those false cries no mind. The clanging of blade against scale, the roar of man against monster, and the echoes of his ashes were all the sounds in his world.

But will was not enough alone, and with the monster’s final swipes, Ander found himself pushed against a blackened stone wall. The Inagnivorr reeled back, and then in an instant, its teeth were upon him. The blonde warrior made use of his every appendage, with his hands barring its upper row of razors while his boots held down its jaw. His teeth were clenched hard with effort, as did the veins beneath his skin bulge out in his muscles.

But no matter his might, the mouth of the beast was closing slowly. Its breath grazed his skin, and the saliva of its mouth met his garbs, soiled with mud and blood. But worst of all, deep in its throat, a blue glimmer emerged, and the air was turning cold.

The light grew, and its mouth continued to go close. He pushed with all he had, but his fate was surely closed.

And in that blue light, he saw a march of familiar faces and the reaching hand of his fallen brother.

But still, he did not bend the knee. I. Will…

*Slash*

*Whistle*

*Whistle*

“Rraaaaagghhh!”

The Inagnivorr tore back, its mouth hung agape as it writhed in pain. His form was thrown to the ground, weary and ragged for breath. Ander’s vision caught the arc of arrows, and in his near, the red glimmer of a longsword. When his eyes adjusted, they looked up in disbelief as a man loomed over him, resolute in mismatched plate armor and draped in golden mane. A hand stretched to him, clad in leather digits, and the man spoke with sharp eyes.

“Did you think I would let you die alone?”

“Leon?” He called.

“To your feet, boy!” His master dragged him up with an order. “Your cavalry’s here!”

The whistles of volleys filled the air, and the beast was thorned well with fletching and bronze tips. A veiled shadow danced about the beast with daggers barred, and a trail of purple left in her wake. She was flanked by an axman in a matching cloak, and a red-haired woman stood nearby. Indeed, his cavalry had arrived. And in his final hour, moreover.

With his mind clear, Ander called to Bella, “The blood! Draw from the blood.”

The magii nodded in agreement as she dipped her hands in the purple sea of the purple upon the stones of the square. The beast had let enough blood to drown a dozen men, but it was no less mighty. When the arcana flooded the woman’s veins, her pupils narrowed and a cast came from her lips.

“Rothanos anee!”

Flowering roots broke through the tiled stones to wind about the Inagnivorr, mighty and strong in their length. The nature took hold of it in place. The beast raged every more, but a flurry of arrows shut it up.

“What’s the plan, boy?”

Thaddues called from the ledge of a fallen building. The eyes of the two men fell on him, but in swiftness, he answered.

“Get me on its back! Its core is in its nape. We break the core, we fell the beast.”

The archer and the swordsmen shared a glance, and in unison they replied.

“Then we shall fell the beast!”

Abreast, the blonde warriors charged forward, blades ready to strike the beast. Its flank was exposed to them, its attention was stolen by Nallia’s shadow. They made their presence known with concurrent strikes, letting blood from the monster amidst its many roars. The purple spurred the magic of Ander’s blood, and at once he called to Leon.

“Lend me a hand to mount!”

“How so?” Leon drew his blade back. A thick coat of purple ran down its hilt.

“By lending me a hand to leap from!”

The swordsman, while entwined with the monster, wore an uncertain look. But still, he trusted in his pupil. “Then be quick with it!”

Leon dipped to a knee with his hands chambered, ready to offer a lift. His student dashed back, and with a running start, he lept upon his master’s hands. The loft gave him good clearance upon the monster’s flank, and his hands found its scales. It was the third time he had mounted it, and with every ounce of his will, he knew it would be the last.

The beast. Will. Fall!

“Keep the pressure!” Sylas called over the storm of arrows, blades, and claws. “Don’t let it set in on any one person!”

A growth shot at the axman, and a second later it was reduced to a cleaved stump of flesh. More were levied, and more were felled by the thief. They came for the Nyx just the same, but they never found their mark. Her speed was untamable, and every blow was a second off. Her daggers, be them small, were great to bleed the beast. And her aim was always true. Such was the grace of the Nearromare blood.

With a final pull, Ander was steadfast upon the back of the beast. Its growths and tail were occupied by his kin, and so he was quick to make for its nape. A nest of tendrils was spun around its neck, and when on approach they shot to seize Ander. And in a flurry, they were all torn apart in a flash of purple and flames. The fire was grown on Ander, and his skin blazed with glory of red and orange. As he fell to his knees, he thrusted deep his blades, finding the flesh of the monster. But it failed to find the core.

“Nhhggg, Grrrrrrnn!”

Bella’s nose ran with blood, her body clenched up with effort. Her roots and vines were mighty, but so was the Inagnivorr. Her eyes had fallen closed and her heart was racing. But she did not yield. She couldn’t. Never once on the ride to Ander’s safety did she falter with fear. He was her brother, and though he may have marched to his death for a reason he refused to tell, it was her duty to march right beside him.

“Kill it fast!” She mewled. “I do not know how long I can keep it still!”

“We are doing all we can!” Nallia called. Her head had turned toward the woman for a split second. But that was all the beast needed to split her through. The claw struck through her thigh, and so a flash of red and a cry of pain took hold. Her momentum brought the woman’s face to the ground, and at once was the Inagnivorr poised to incinerate her. The red light began, and then it howled with whipping flame.

“Nali!”

When the Nyx opened her eyes, she found herself in whole. The flames had failed to take her, and hung above her head were the brown eyes and brown mane of a young archer. The forehead scar, and all.

“Damnit!”

Sylas struck deep into the flesh of the beast, stealing its point of focus as he dashed about the square. He kept an eye on Damien as he dragged Nallia to safety, and from his rear, Thaddeus rained down bolt after bolt. It was a great feat to strike the beast between its armor of scales, and never once did the man fail. His aim was true, and with Bella holding the beast still, they were free to cut it down.

Upon its nape, Ander held a grip with his legs as his blades dug up a storm of purple blood. Again and again did he raise his blades to burrow deep into the flesh. Strike. Strike. Strike. He had failed to hear Nallia’s cry, nor the breath of fire, and in his ears rang the words of the wind.

Yaftā.

*Strike.*

Mavas.

*Slash.*

Avesh.

*Strike.*

Narath.

Crack.

The core splintered beneath the point of his broadsword, and the cry that came from the beast was flooded with agony. It squirmed with all its might. Desperate to break Bella’s living chains. But the roots and vines held tight, and further did the blonde boy plunge his blades into the core. One crack would not suffice. And no matter the cost, he would shatter it.

“I… Can’t… Hold it!”

Bella’s knees were growing weak, and no matter how hard she pulled at the strings, the strength of the Inagnivorr was suffocating her. Blood ran from her nose and ears, and with a single drop did it fell from her shut eye. Her mind was clouded beyond concentration, and all she saw were the flowering roots and vines. But that image did fade, and at last, her legs gave out to send her down against the stones of the square.

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

The vines receded into the earth, and the beast was let loose about the square. Ander’s mass was taken into the air by such a force, but he held firm to its back by the grip of his blades. With all the strength he held within, he pushed himself to cling to the scales and keep fighting. Echoes ran in his mind, as did the song of the wind. Its words were slow and drawn, and spoken in the voices of his past.

Yaaaaaaa…fffffftā.

Maaaaaa…vaaaaas.

His falchion and broadsword took up their work anew. And the purple blood ran in the air as the beast charged about the town square. The whole of the village was taken in flames, so easy to see from the back of the beast. But none of the flames burned brighter than his soul.

Aaaaaa…veeeeesh.

Naaaa…raaaaath.

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

“Away from her!”

As the beast sent a throw upon Bella, Leon appeared to strike it aside. He stood guard before her, his blade honed and ready and dashed with purple and mud. The magii was still dazed and in no condition to fight. But little by little did her strength return. The beast was in a constant frenzy as its core cracked and shattered. Its candle was burning low, but it would not die without a fight.

YOU.

WILL.

FALL.

Ander’s eyes raged with flame, as did his tongue burn with passion as he cried.

“YOU!”

“WILL!”

“FALL!”

*Crack.*

*Crack.*

*Crack.*

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

The Inagnivorr dipped low, before pouncing high off its front legs. It careened up, and Ander fell from his post. His blades left his hands in free fall. Gravity took him. But it did not take his spirit.

His right hand reached his belt, and while he was close to the beast, he unsheathed Nina’s knife to break through a nearby scale. The grip of the blade did not falter, and he had hold of the monster to reel back and retrieve Calvan’s broadsword. His hand took its worn grip. And with a single strike, he hammered it into the Inagnivorr’s nape, and a great sound was heard across all of Sylvee.

*SHATTER.*

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

The core was broken, and so did Ander fell hard against the solid stone of the town square. All of his body felt crumpled and broken, but he did not yield. For the blood in his veins ran with purpose.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…fffffffffffffftā!

He rose to his feet, claiming the blades that fell at his side. They spun with red fire, and the beast thrashed before him in place.

“Rrrraaaagghhhhh!”

Maaaaaaaaaaaaa…vaaaaaaaaaaas!

It tranced up high, higher than ever as it roared a bloody gurgle. Its legs were planted, and lines of flaking white shot up its claws. Its tail was wild, and then it became tame as a matching white grew at its end.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa…veeeeeeeeeeeeesh!

Flame grew in its gullet as it breathed heat into the air. It shot up to graze the sky, taller than a castle rampart on its hind legs. The inferno breath was hotter than ever before, and its cry never ceased. But the cracking white was growing swiftly.

Naaaaaaaaaaa…raaaaaaaaaaaaaaath!

“Vvraaaaaawnnn!”

Made upon his feet, drenched in blood and built on broken bones, Ander watched as the last draw of fire left the Inagnivorr’s mouth. The white was at its base, then its neck, and finally it fell painted upon every one of its red-stained teeth. It stayed for a moment, completely still, but no sooner did it fall from its post with a loud -

*Crash*

Its mouth stuck ajar in white marble, fell on either side of him, and he was left staring down its great throat. A foot closer, and he would have been slayed with it. A flame burned there in its throat, and then with the breath of the wind, it was hushed away. The beast was rendered to stone and marble, and when Ander let out a pained breath, the stone cracked and flaked into white powder. The visage of the monster fell apart on his every side. Crumbling into a pile of waste while the moment drew on. Its blare, once blinding and rabid, was no greater than the silent cries of its many, many victims.

And up high, the clouds parted to show the eyes of the stars and the white moon, bight in its waxing crescent. All was still.

And the beast was felled.