Nic lunged for Yvaine. His hands extended into a flurry of blows, unleashing shadows of ash that crashed down like a storm. Yvaine was met and outmatched; her strength was at her limit, and she couldn’t hold on against him. Each blow drove her feet deeper into the earth.

And then his bare palm slammed into her chest.

Yvaine was blown back, her body folding in around the blow, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. Nic catapulted her across the crater and slammed her down into the murk.

“Having trouble, Yvaine?” The elf called down from the lip of the crater. “Shall I step in..?” His fingers hovered above the strings of his strange instrument.

“No…” Her hands gripped the edges of the dirt, pulling herself free. Nic lifted his hand.

“I can…”

Fingers of mud extended out of the ground around her, forming an enormous fist. It clenched down, swallowing her words.

Nic swung Peacemaker into his hands, feeling the weapon’s reliable weight.

Her hands burst out of the muddy vise, and Yvaine crawled forward, dragging herself free again with a gasp. In that instant, Nic kicked forward and vanished, reappearing overhead, his weapon scything down…

The elf plucked a chord.

In that instant, Nic’s danger sense screamed. He felt, rather than saw, the attack slash towards him. An invisible blade scything the air.

He twisted his body to escape as the invisible blade collided against Peacemaker with a ringing note, ricocheting off in a wild direction. The impact tossed him away as Yvaine clambered to her feet.

“I can… I can still…” But whatever strength Yvaine had gained from devouring the forbidden pill earlier, it was taking its toll now. Her body was no longer healing. She was at the end of her strength, and could barely keep on her feet.

“You’ve lost.” The musician said, his voice almost laughing.

Nic just needed to land the final blow. He crouched on three limbs, Peacemaker held in hand, ready to lunge…

“Oh, I think he means to kill you…” The musician teased.

“Shut up. I don’t need your help. I can take this little whelp…” She lifted another pill to her mouth, crushing it in her teeth. Her veins turned black…

“Do as you will.” With a sigh, the elf turned away.

Yvaine lunged for Nic.

Her hands lifted, unleashing a flurry of claws, chops, punches, palm strikes. Each one filled the air with a beam of light, slashing towards him.

Nic wove between them. She wasn’t so fast anymore, her bulk weighing her down.

A fist swung down towards his skull, Yvaine arriving like a shadow that loomed overhead.

Nic stepped aside. And in a single, scything cut, Nic took her head from her shoulders.

The musician sighed. He began to play his tortoise-bone lyre, not conjuring more invisible blades, but simply playing, a sad melody that conjured streaks of light like rain to fall around his shoulders. “What a pity…”

“If I was her,” Nic said slowly. “I would’ve called you in right away.”

“Pride does that to us.” The musician admitted. “But she had plenty to be proud of. Yvaine was a strong warrior; don’t imagine I’ll forgive you for her death. Within the Legion, there is one great taboo…”

“Killing another Legionnaire?” He knew why. Demons grew by devouring others demons, and the draw of the Pandemonium Legions was their promise of safety from that slaughter path, offering a chance to relax, to be among your own kind without fear…

And even now, Nic could feel the strength of Yvaine flooding his body. It unfurled from her like a red-gold mist and poured into him. The feeling was addictive; it was raw and surging and made his heart beat like a wardrum in his chest.

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“I wonder if it was worth it. If you had spared her, I would be forced to let you live in turn.” The musician smiled as he turned back to Nic. It was a savage smile, without joy or mirth.

“Yeah, yeah…” Nic was tired. The blue fire had faded in his veins, leaving him feeling burnt and expended. He coughed and blood tinged the ground, expelled on his breath. The few moments of power he’d earned had cost him dearly; this new evolution of the Internal Sacrifice was far more devouring than the old.

But all the same he climbed out of the crater his fight with Yvaine had formed.

He lifted Peacemaker…

He grinned to himself…

“One question.” He asked.

“One question before you die?” The musician lifted an eyebrow. “I can oblige.”

“Why did you kidnap the harpy princess? What’s so special about this altar?” Nic challenged.

“Did you really come all this way for that? To save some damsel in distress, like a dashing knight? Oh, you poor thing. Your death really was inevitable, with such notions in your head…” The musician chuckled and glanced sideways.

On the ground beside him was the princess. Her arms were bound, her wings torn and tattered, held together by the same thick ropes. A gag had been stuffed into her mouth. Nic was vaguely aware she was gorgeous, with lustrous black hair and a high, regal nose, and blue eyes that shone against her olive skin.

He was about two seconds away from dead, but Nic could still appreciate the classics.

“Simple. The Altar of Night exists to consume divinities, yes? We simply intend to alter that ritual a little. One of us will consume her divine blood, instead of the petty god this altar worships. One of us will gain her power…”

“I thought divine power would drive demons mad.”

“Madness?” The musician laughed, his chuckle like the tolling of a silver bell. “Can you really be a cultivator without experiencing madness? It is a mad path we walk, and a time spent as a lunatic can clarify the mind when it returns, can offer perspectives that are denied to those who stay on the weak and timid paths of the sane. And the taste of divinity is worth the cost…”

“So…” Nic put a hand to his face. “You’re just going to eat her up like a pill, is that it? Tomb. Every time with you people…”

“Us people?” The musician asked, questioning.

“I mean cultivators. Every time I forget how simple it all is, one of you goes out of your way to remind me. It’s all about power. It’s never about anything but power. And if anyone tries to escape your game, you kill them for it…”

“And yet you are one of us…”

“Trust me. I’m not.” Nic spat.

“Believe what you will. The thoughts of a dead man do not echo long.” The musician lifted his hands to the strings. “And it is past time to cut you down.”

But in that moment…

Sarhelia struck from the skies. She descended like a comet, outlined in blazing bronze-gold light. Nic could see clearly what was happening, even in that moment. Sarhelia was fading. Every second, there was less of her and more of the light…

It was a forbidden technique.

The final of the four inheritances of the harpy village was a forbidden technique, sacrificing life for power.

And with the moment of strength she’d bought, Sarhelia struck for the musician’s eyes. He flinched back, surprised by her speed, letting out a scream. His body dropped backwards into his shadow, which flew backwards, spitting him out again.

His face was bleeding. One eye was a broken ruin.

And before he could speak, Sarhelia flung herself forward, stabbing outwards with her spear. Nic could see the killing intent in the way she moved, in the flow of her strikes.

The musician plucked his strings. Invisible blades blocked her path.

“I know you’re at your limit! Take the princess! Run!” She called out. “I can hold him for three breaths.”

Nic didn’t waste a single one of those three breaths on responding. He lunged forward, lifting the princess over his shoulder.

Inkspur lept from the tattoo on his back, and Nic swung himself aboard, grasping the dragon’s back with his knees. “Go go go!”

They dropped from the edge of the island, Inkspur’s wings expanding. They dropped into the open sky, the winds carrying them, soaring high over the desert.

And behind them, Sarhelia fought tooth and nail to buy them time to escape.

Three breaths…

Nic only counted two before he felt his danger sense scream. He grabbed hold of Inkspur’s horns and twisted, pulling them off course as an invisible blade hurtled past, the wind roaring as it was cut apart by the shrieking sharpness of the blade.

The musician had emerged on the edge of the island, casually plucking his strings.

Nic lifted Peacemaker to parry, striking aside the next attack. It did no good. The force of collision shook Inspur, sending them into a tumble, and Nic was barely able to hold on to the princess in one hand, Inskspur with his knees.

Sky and earth tumbled over and over, and the next attack was already coming, slashing through the air unseen.

Nic had no response, no counter.

He could only scream alongside his companion as Inkspur lost a wing to the scything blade.

And they rushed towards the ground, the desert rising towards them, faster and faster, the roar of the wind building to an overwhelming scream. There was no stopping no. Inkspur was bleeding, shedding red droplets to the wind. The frantic attempts of his remaining three wings only drove them into a corkscrew dive, turning over and over in a nauseating spin.

And then they slammed into the cold, unforgiving earth.