The little girl who was not a little girl stood in the centre of the ring of flames, her body alight with white energy. It oozed out of her eyes, pulsed underneath her skin, giving her a strangely translucent appearance. She stood with her arms out to her sides as if basking in the almighty power. The flames reached up into the sky like blades of grass stretching towards the sun, arcing high into the air in a supernatural fashion. 

Drek watched from the top of a cliff-side overlooking the village, gazing down at the mess of bodies and bloodied weapons. The girl couldn't be any older than six or seven years, yet she stood in the centre of all those mangled bodies. The villagers had gone to war quite suddenly. In all his years as a Master Courser, Drek had never seen such inexplicable violence. He'd been on battlefields, fought in war, but those battles had made sense to him. There had been reasons for them, motivations on each side. Here, however, the reason for the fighting was shrouded in mystery. The first report had been from a passing trader who barely escaped capture when some of the villagers rushed out and assaulted his guards. Despite the stark contrast in the weapons each side held, the caravan had been forced to flee, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Drek had been selected to travel to the village and assess the situation. As a Master Courser, he could make his way there faster than anyone else. He had skipped across the arid plains of Phyri like a bullet, using the white light of Orpheus to fill him with speed and stamina. After arriving, he had spent two days camping out of sight, keeping an eye on how things progressed. This was all he was ordered to do. The King of Phyri didn't want his men associated with whatever was going on, lest they be blamed for any violence. Drek didn't mind that at all. He didn't want to have to fight the villagers anyway. He took no pleasure in killing. It was his duty, from time to time, but it had always been important to him to make sure not to enjoy it. 

For most of the two days, the villagers had only moved in a small series of raids. It seemed to Drek that there were two sides in this conflict, split between the eastern and western side of the village. A barricade of tables, chairs and wagons separated the two sides, but brave souls occasionally ventured across. They would move in groups of four or so, sneaking into houses and leaving with bags of supplies. A few instances had resulted in violence. Drek could tell from the way the men stumbled out of the buildings that they had drawn blood for the first time in their lives. 

It all changed on the dusk of the second day. The western side charged the barricade out of nowhere, a good three dozen men scrambling to reach the other side. They held pitchforks, woodcutter's axes and shoddy wooden spears, shouting war cries as they ran. The other side rushed to form a defence, but the fighting was brutal. As commanded, Drek stayed on his perch, his stomach churning as he watched the men slaughter each other. When their weapons broke or became stuck in flesh, they wrestled and clawed at each other instead. Drek found it incredibly disturbing, how they fought like animals, as if some primal urge forced them to kill. As much as he wanted to believe that was it, that they were simply mad, he knew otherwise. The men seemed sane, organised enough to shout rallying cries and attack in small squadrons. It was shoddy work compared to a true military, the groups clearly undisciplined and inexperienced, but they acted with firm intent. This wasn't madness, it was passion. Something had riled up these men so much that they had torn each other apart to prove the point. 

The little girl stood mostly alone now, glowing with white light as the flames stirred around her as if drawing on that light. That was the white light of Orpheus, the energy that powered Conductors. Drek was incredibly familiar with it, having felt the rush of power running through his own body many times before. This girl couldn't be a Conductor though, could she? When someone so young realised their Conductor powers, they often could only summon it in minuscule amounts. He could tell even from a distance that this girl was bleeding with power, the white light of Orpheus leaking from her like water from an overfilled canteen. He'd never seen anything like it, yet he couldn't deny it. He just didn't understand it. He ran through the tenants of the Coursers in his mind, the family of Conductors he had pledged himself to. The first was Observation. He'd done that part already, so he moved onto the next guiding instruction. Examination, the act of thinking through what you had observed and figuring out a likely explanation. Whichever way he thought about it, the girl had to be a Conductor. He didn't know how she was wielding so much light, but he had to acknowledge the evidence before him. With that in mind, what class of Conductor was she? 

As if the universe was eager to answer his question, Drek noticed movement down below. Three men, survivors. It was impossible to tell what side they had been on, but they seemed to be allies at least. They stared at the girl, transfixed by the display of light, then started edging towards her. The girl's head moved, looking straight at them, then a wave of energy burst out in that direction. It passed through the three men as if they weren't there, making them flinch backwards in shock. A moment later however, they froze up. Drek watched, his stomach continuing to churn, as all three picked up knives from the ground. They held the blades up to their necks and... 

Drek looked away, down at the rocky ground beneath his feet. He tried to calm himself and stick to the tenant of Examination. He knew that no known class of Conductor could control a man's movements, much less force them to end their own lives. So what was he dealing with? A new type of Conductor, one that could bend the wills of living beings as they pleased? He didn't understand enough of the science-y side of things to know if it was really possible. It was happening right in front of him, he supposed, but he'd never heard of new Conductor classes appearing out of nowhere. There were six. There had always been six, no more, no less. 

When Drek forced himself to look back up and see if the girl has done anything else, he noticed something on the horizon. It appeared as a flashing of light, a brief line of white that streaked from one point to another, far in the distance. Another few lines of light flashed in succession, creating a streaking of sharply cutting zig-zags against the mountainous backdrop. He recognised it immediately, of course. How could he not? Those were they movements of a Courser, one like himself. Judging by the consecutive nature of the skips, they were a Master Courser. Had one of the other five from Phyri come to assist him? There should have been a signal if that were the case. Coursers were secretly trained to draw a peace sign, a rune that translated to 'safety', to indicate that they were a friendly troop. Drek watched the flashes of light, but the lines were nowhere close resembling such a rune. They continued moving towards the village, speeding down the mountain pass, the light fading quickly behind them each time they launched into the next skip. 

Before he could move onto the next tenant of the Coursers, that of Deliberation, Drek became aware of something else. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, goosebumps rising up on the surface of his skin. He recognised the sensation as any well trained Courser should and moved with the speed of a startled stag. He let the white light of Orpheus flare within him, felt it burning and filling him with energy. In the blink of an eye, he broke into a skip, creating a bright white flash as he dashed to the side. He skidded to a halt and turned to face where he had been standing, then saw his attempted assailant. They were dressed in sleeveless blue robes, muscular chest open to the air. In the quickly fading light of his skip, he saw brown skin and baggy trousers tied by rope, as well as a peculiar white mask adorned with black painted lines. The lines sketched out the Hiradali Rune for 'End'. An Assassin. More than that, a Resonator. He had felt the slight tingling in the air behind him just before he'd skipped away. He knew to recognise that as a Resonator bending the air, using their powers to grip the empty space and twist it. If this Assassin had grabbed his throat, his breath would've been forced out of lungs in seconds. 

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Drek glanced back at the other Courser out of the corner of one eye, keeping his body faced towards the Resonator. The Courser was closer to the village now, breaking out of the mountain pass and into the low plains that bordered the small town. What was their objective? Whatever it was, he had to concentrate in order to make it out of this alive. He ran through the tenants. Observation: One Master Courser, one probable Master Resonator, judging by how they hadn't charged him yet. They had the sense to see what he would do first, then act. Examination: Their target was likely in the village, some hidden cache of supplies or treasures. It occurred to him briefly that they could be there for the girl, for her powers. Did that make more sense than the alternative? That they were raiding this village, coincidentally on the same day that it's inhabitants had slain one another? Hiradali and Phyri weren't on the best of terms, but the nations hadn't actually warred in decades. He moved onto Deliberation: He hadn't been ordered to fight, so he wasn't obligated to in any capacity. A fight against another Master Courser would likely be long winded and dangerous, especially if the Resonator joined in. Fighting the Resonator first would be troublesome in it's own way, but it was probably better to clear what was in front of him first. He moved to the second to last tenant: Action. 

Drek skipped forward, flashing towards the Resonator with a burst of white light. The Resonator flicked a hand to the right, bending their fingers as if gripping the air. Drek found himself being thrown to the side, but righted himself and landed on his feet. That counter been expected, a typical Resonator trick. He kept up his momentum, performing another skip and appearing behind the Resonator, drawing his short sword as he swept in low for his strike. The Resonator moved as he did, seeming to anticipate such a move. They crouched down low and put a hand on the ground, then the rock rippled like a towel in the wind. It threw Drek up in the air and back some distance, exposing him. He couldn't perform a skip without having a solid surface to push off from. The Resonator and gripped the air again, pinching it between their fingers and pulling it like a cord. Drek began speeding back towards them, a useless sack of flesh delivered straight to it's target. The air itself pushed him from behind, pulled at his sides as if hooking into him. Thinking fast, Drek poked three fingers into the circular holes of his throwing knives. He threw them loosely towards the Resonator, forcing them to redirect the weapons with more movements of the air. This let Drek drop to the ground, and he skipped forward again, reaching for his chance. 

The enemy Courser slammed into his side with matching speed, one line of light crashing into the other. Both slowed and Drek stumbled away, the enemy Courser swinging a long, thin blade towards his neck. Drek leaned back as far as he could, feeling something in his back protest at the straining movement,  and barely avoided the sharp edge of the weapon. He broke into a roll, getting distance, making sure to face his opponent when he rose. The Courser wore a black military jacket that looked to mark him as a Hiradali man, open chested just like his ally. He wore a similar mask, one etched with a rune that translated to 'Prime'. Drek thought that one a bit big-headed. 

The Hiradali Courser skipped forward, becoming a line of white light once again. Drek skipped away, jumping down the cliff and landing on a rock that stuck out like a wart. He continued skipping down the cliff, the enemy following his path exactly. From an outside perspective, they would look like two bolts of white energy, zipping from one point to the next. From Drek's view, almost everything was shrouded in the white light that surrounded him. With each skip, he quickly assessed his position and velocity, then stopped and changed direction before skipping again. He thanked the Chronicler of Health for keeping his mind in good condition, else he would've lacked the expertise needed to make such quick, consecutive skips. They continued their chase on ground level, edging around the outside of the village. They moved as twin lines of light, darting close to each other only to trade singular clashes of steel before parting and continuing the chase. Such was the way Coursers always fought one another; extended moments of stillness were a death sentence. The first to score a solid blow would likely claim victory. 

Looking for that lucky break, Drek skipped towards one of the many dilapidated houses. He stopped just before the open front door, then skipped directly up. He twisted in the air, planting a foot on the wall, then pushed off and skipped back down to the ground, landing behind his opponent. He allowed himself a smile. He could still move pretty well. Laurie was right, age was just a number. His opponent skipped into the building to dodge, their white light filling the house and blasting out the open windows. Drek skipped after them, giving chase, but realised his mistake too late. What was that about age, again? Perhaps Laurie had been wrong after all. 

His opponent had stepped to one side, hidden in the flash that filled the stone dwelling. Drek had no time to adjust his heading, too much momentum. The thin blade sliced through his side as he rushed past, cutting cleanly through flesh. He exploded out of the other door, losing his balance as his skip ended. His momentum sent him rolling along the ground, bouncing like a pebble on the surface of a lake. When he finally came to a stop, he looked down at his wound and saw his hand come away red, coated in fresh blood. With an injury like that, he couldn't possibly hope to keep up the chase they had taken part in earlier. 

The enemy Courser stepped out of the house, taking their time to walk over to Drek. They seemed convinced that the fight was won. It probably was, Drek supposed. He couldn't get away and there was no one to help him. He would die here, unaware of what the whole situation had even been about. Drek wasn't one to quit while he had a fighting chance, but he knew when he was beat. In that moment, he decided to face the end with honour, look his killer in the eye as they finished him off. 

Movement startled Drek, the sound of feet stepping on dry grass. He turned his head, still low to the ground and clutching his side. The girl was there, walking slowly through the backyard towards him. The light infusing her hadn't quelled, but it seemed calmer, more controlled. She stopped some distance from him, her eyes cloaked in white energy. They stared at each other in silence. Drek was quite sure that even the enemy Courser had stopped, the sound of his steps gone. Drek stared into the eyes of that girl, losing himself in the deep white abyss, the light that seemed to go on forever. This was no normal girl, that was for certain. Something inside of him, some instinct, told him that there was a greater intelligence at play. As he watched, the girl extended an arm. She held a hand out towards him, palm upward. 

Drek skipped forward in a burst of desperate energy. Light flashed, coating his surroundings in white. Adrenalin pulsed through his veins, his body stirring into action, reaching for the chance, ready to gamble. His vision focused entirely on the girl, on whatever she actually was. Within that blinding stream of white light, only she remained visible, a beacon guiding him. He pushed off of the ground, letting the skip propel him forward. He opened his arms and grabbed the girl, crossing the distance in a flash. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching her to his chest, and spun around on his heels. As he faced the enemy Courser, their face alert with panic, he understood. Whatever their reasons, they were here for the girl. 

Drek skipped again, moving before the enemy Courser could begin to give chase. For some reason, he felt he had a chance again, that he could actually win. He skipped to the side, turning his body as he became surrounded by white light again and accelerated. The pain in his side seemed trivial now. The power that filled him was immense. He had skipped thousands of times before, but never like this. From what he could see through the white light, his surroundings whizzed by him in an indecipherable blur. He felt himself going faster than ever before, bursting across the land like nothing he had ever known. The girl's power, whatever it was, flowed into him, filling him with an endless supply of energy. Within only a minute, hills began rising up around him, followed by trees. He crossed through that forest, zipping around obstacles without slowing, then emerged and saw an open plain covered in vibrant grass. He continued, the power never-ending. 

Words filled his mind. Not just a voice, but words that burned into existence. They seared themselves into his brain, almost painfully, solidifying themselves in memory. A female tone rang through his head, speaking the words as they connected to his soul, latching onto him. 

"She must reach her destination."