Grisella had miscalculated, and big time at that. She could avow as much.

Then again, she felt like she couldn’t really be blamed either. While her affinity with Light was rather inclined towards the aspect of Fire, she did have some connection with Prophecy too. And, needless to say, the auguries for that day had seemed decent enough. ‘Sunny in the morning, wind and a chance of a little drizzle during the night’ was about all she had been able to get from studying the flight patterns of the birds.

Of course, she had still gone out fully prepared to face some danger -the Source knew Zabal had never been known to be a particularly safe Realm!-, but just some danger wasn’t what they had encountered... How was she supposed to know that a conflict that had been dormant for over two centuries would apparently end up reigniting that very same da-

Fucking Necromancers!

Grisella jumped aside, ducking away from an unidentified spell hurled at her by one of the shitheads that were clad in all black.

Of course, the group of six fuckers that had jumped her, as soon as they caught wind of her ass, hadn’t exactly introduced themselves. So, the ‘necromancy’ part was only her guess. She could hardly mistake the nature of the spells the bastards were casting, though, even if she didn’t know exactly which ones were being used. In their wake, as with everything that that caste of fallen mages did, the Breath was left with a foul taste.

Rot and decay, with a hint of sour milk.

The witch scrunched her nose, glaring daggers at her enemies.

The beaked masks and loose garments they wore did a good job at hiding their identities, but she could tell that at least four of them were women. On second look, from their auras, all six seemed to still be fully alive too.

Fledglings, then... Good.

She couldn’t even tell if her accidentally running into them during one of Abramel’s outings was really an unlucky thing or not. Sure, had it happened in the village, she’d have had access to a few last-resort tools that she always kept at hand there, just in case... On the other hand, however, she would have had to tread carefully, lest the entire village ended up becoming collateral damage. Her flames weren’t exactly easy to keep a leash on, after all, and she doubted lesser spells would be doing her any good against what seemed to be a small cult of corpse-fucking degen-

“Effulgent Aegis!”

The incantation left her lips as soon as she finally managed to thread her Breath into the right patterns, immediately harmonizing with it and bringing the weave to life.

Although she was somewhat reluctant to admit it, activating the spell had been more difficult than she had expected. In her prime, she wouldn’t even have needed ‘the crutch of speech’, as her master liked to call it. But, an entire century spent in peace and, quite honestly, faineance, had seemingly left her more than a bit rusty around the edges. And, unless a Gift was involved, incantation-less spell-casting was tricky, to say the very least...

Well, it was either that, or old age was just finally catching up with her.

Bah, nonsense!

The witch spat down.

Alright, less thinking, more fighting!

She took a deep, centering breath, scanning her enemies even as the protective screen of her spell surrounded her. Just a second later, the wall of golden sparks proved its worth. Three vile arcane weaves crashed against it, but the shield didn’t even falter, effortlessly deflecting the rather lacking attacks. She paid them no mind, however, confident in the solidity of her defense. Of course, had her enemies been more than dabblers, things could have been different. But, much to their detriment, ‘ifs’ had no place in battle.

Instead of worrying about scenarios that hadn’t taken place, all of her efforts were focused on her next spell. That one would be taking her a bit longer to cast, which was why she had started by the Aegis. Unlike the former, though, that delay wouldn’t come from lack of practice. The weave for her second most powerful hex was just that much more complex.

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Spells rained upon her position as the threads of her will and Breath pulled, twisted, and tied. She ignored all of it, just feeding the construct that was keeping her safe more Breath every time it wobbled. True, instead of bunkering down, she could have dodged as she worked... That would only have delayed the task at hand even further, however, even if she could have saved some Breath that way. Plus, who was she kidding? She wasn’t quite as nimble on her feet as she used to be.

Her spells were just as powerful, though.

“Inclement Incineration!”

A predatory grin curled her lips as the words echoed, with an air of finality. The Breath around her flared to life, part of the weave becoming visible even to the naked eye. At the same time, a sphere of stone-melting flames manifested amid the six Necromancers that were confronting her. There were only fifty steps or so between their group and her, so they all had been well within her range.

Of course, the imbeciles were ignorant of that, so most of them pointlessly started running away, as soon as they noticed the spell. Not like the two that decided to stay behind and stand their ground would fare any better, of course. The rushed, pitiful conjurations they tried pitting against her own might as well have been drops of water thrown against a ravenous wildfire.

The igneous sphere exploded as soon as the first spell touched it. Immediately, everything in a radius of thirty steps around it got engulfed in an inferno of raging flames. Let alone those who were standing near it, even the fastest among the fleeing group couldn’t have gotten more than four or five steps away before the detonation took place.

Even from afar, still protected by the Aegis, Grisella could feel the torrid air emanating from the blazing storm. Her eyes were ice-cold as she looked at the scene, though. It had been long since the last time she had felt any remorse at willingly taking a human life, and necromancers could barely be considered ‘human’ anyway. The things those bastards could do, all for just some middling power...

She shook her head, dismissing images that still haunted her, even after a few centuries.

As the fires died down, gradually diminishing as they ran out of both arcane and mundane fuel, the witch focused on recovering her Breath. While she could only assume she was on a tight time frame, her reserves were no longer quite up to standard, either.

A couple of minutes later, she started moving away. As usual, the only thing left behind by her spells were ashes. That, and a fifty-steps-wide patch of smoldering glass.

Might have been a bit of an overkill but...

Again, she remembered what the Cultists of Death could do to a city.

...Never mind! Anyway, that’s one group down.

There were undoubtedly more of the rats hiding away, somewhere nearby, but they’d have to wait for their turn. Necromancers, in and of themselves, weren’t really what worried her. After all, never mind that she had yet to find any signs of their group having a practitioner of anywhere near her caliber, corpse fuckers were honestly quite useless in a direct confrontation anyway.

Sure, a horde of undead could change that, but Grisella didn’t believe they had one of those. Not yet, anyway. In the first place, something kept telling her that the only reason the detestable bastards were nearby, was because her village was meant to become the seed of one such horde...

No. What actually worried her were the others. Warlocks, Diabolists, and the handful of other kinds of heretics that often didn’t mind keeping corpse fuckers around. Those could manage to hold her back for long enough that even their eventual defeat might not matter anymore. Most of what necromancers could do was ineffectual against her, but in no way did that mean the same held true for her villagers.

The only other defender the latter could count on was Munok... And, to be completely honest, while back in the day Grisella had learned to trust their Order, that particular Landknight was pretty much still wet behind the ears.

Luminous Source above! She had never asked but, if she had to take a blind guess, he had probably used someone else’s influence to bring a rushed end to his apprenticeship, then gotten a special dispensation, just to get married. Despite all of their grandstanding, after a few centuries around the corner, she was fully aware of how most Orders could easily be swayed with enough political clout.

Anyway, whatever the case, the lad was hardly worthy of his title. Granted, let alone a novice Landknight, even a half-assed squire of theirs would normally be much more than what a little inland hamlet like the one she had been born in could ever ask for, or need, for that matter.

Sadly, it seems like times are hardly normal.

Whatever the case, she had to rush back to the village... But first, she had to fetch a certain -still useless- ancient monster. That thought almost made her stumble. She had been on the brink of forgetting about ‘her charge’.

A frown marred her brow.

He should still be alright, right? I mean, sure, he’s yet to regain his Art, but an old thing still ought to know a trick or two, right?

Plus, it’s been, what? Barely long enough to boil an egg?

... Come to think of it, how long was that supposed to be?