Myraden wrapped her spearhead around Khara’s sword and tugged, throwing the woman off balance. She struck with an open palm, knocking the woman back onto the sandy beach.

Khara lashed out with her fist, blasting a wave of Essence outward. With a twirl of her spear, Myraden dispelled it, but the strength knocked her back a few steps.

Leap back to her feet, Khara continued her barrage. She let off three more blasts of Essence—which Myraden dispersed—then threw a heavy, fast punch with her fist. Twin horns of boar Essence manifested on her knuckles.

It struck Myraden in the chest and flung her back across the sand. Her armour absorbed most of the blow. Boar Essence raced off to the side of the armour, travelling down veins of inlaid snowsteel, then vented off to the side through carved runes. Underneath, Myraden’s skin was perfectly intact.

There was only a shallow dent left in the center of the cuirass, which Myraden would buff out later. If she hadn’t had the remains of her family’s Cursebearer armour, the blow would have caved her chest in.

Myraden skidded to a stop at Kythen’s hooves. He had locked horns with Khara’s boar, and although he was much bigger, the boar’s body had been enhanced. They pushed against each other, unmoving.

Myraden’s lungs blazed and her sides ached, and every breath hurt her throat. Her arms wanted to fall off, and her Essence channels wanted to burst. But none of that was physical damage.

Kythen didn’t need to ask if she was alright. He knew exactly how she was faring, and she knew the same about him.

They had been fighting for a few hours, and Myraden was exhausted. It hadn't been constant battling—mostly her slipping away further down the beach—but it added up. She bled from a few scrapes and a decent gash down her arm, but for now, she could hold it together. She leapt to the side, skidding through the sand again.

Complete victory against Khara just wasn't on the table right now. But she could escape with her life intact.

Besides, she must have given Pirin enough time to get back into the labyrinth.

“Kythen!” Myraden called. “Allírs-yre!” Let’s go.

As far as she knew, Khara couldn’t speak Íshkaben—there were so few who could, now. But it was also her birth-tongue; the only language she could speak to Kythen in.

I’m running, Kythen told her. I’m three paces behind you. Jump in two seconds.

Khara ran her hand down her sword, infusing the fuller with glimmering Essence. With a shout, she charged. Myraden turned to the side, just barely avoiding the charge—Khara had the speed of a true wizard.

A wizard taught by the Red Hand…

Myraden grabbed onto Kythen’s scruff as he galloped past, then pulled herself up onto the bloodhorn’s back.

She aimed him towards the woods and leaned into his neck, then whispered, “Ver saie allírs dei rin baugtan!”

Into the woods? Kythen exclaimed. He trotted up the beach, then leapt up a shelf of sand. Myraden pulled on his scruff, guiding him away from a blast of Essence from Khara.

“Fejn.”

Yes?

“Fejn!”

Kythen slipped between two palms at the edge of the woods, then bounded over a piece of driftwood that had washed high up on the shore. He swerved through the trees. As the sand transitioned to mud and peat, the palm trees turned to deciduous, broad fronded plants, each thrice as tall as her.

She and Kythen leapt over a fallen log, then swerved to the side to get around a pair of the trees. The trunks were each as thick as a ship’s mast, and they clung so close together that they could be a wall from a distance.

On Kythen’s back, Myraden could match Khara’s enhanced on-foot pace. And Khara’s boar wasn’t big enough to ride. For speed, they were evenly matched.

Endurance, though? Kythen would need a break, and soon.

They climbed up the island’s central slope at a diagonal, winding back and forth along an invisible arduous path. They had to lose Khara soon.

Myraden spent more time looking over her shoulder than she did looking forward. She couldn’t see Khara or the boar anymore, but just to be safe, she wanted to give it a little longer. Maybe Khara would give up and go back.

I don’t think that’s likely, Kythen said. She seemed pretty hungry to spill your blood and rip your head off.

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Was he spying on her thoughts again?

Just a little.

That was the whole purpose of the Catch stage—strengthening the link between the Familiar and the wizard. Myraden was nearly at the peak, and more often than not, Kythen could look into her head and see exactly what she was thinking.

She wished she could do the same back, but, while it was improving, her insight into him wasn’t anywhere near as strong. She caught glimpses of his thoughts, and a few times, she smelled with his sensitive bloodhorn nostrils. She’d seen with his eyes once or twice, but that wasn’t the connection she needed.

She needed the root of it all. That was the bottleneck she had reached.

The woods whipped past faster. She leaned closer to Kythen, trying to sense his heartbeat through their Reyad, like she had hundreds of times before. She felt a faint pulse, but nothing that would give her the key insight to their advancement.

At the edge of her vision, beyond the fluffy outline of Kythen’s fur, she spotted a clearing. An ancient ruin filled the clearing, sandstone pillars and blocks that had long been exposed to the elements. The earth had eroded away, opening up the foundations. Now, they were covered in vines and vegetation and patina.

Myraden dismounted off Kythen’s back and ducked behind a pillar, then veiled her core. Khara shouldn’t be able to sense much, but Myraden would rather be safe.

She sat down, making sure she was hidden from sight in the direction Khara would approach from. Kythen dropped down onto his knees. She’ll find us, he said. Her boar will sniff us out.

“Ver gevaj hvetu,” she whispered. They needed to rest.

Aye, rest is important. But don’t let your guard down.

Myraden ran her hand down the wound-up shaft of her spear, Lejaüdkue. She was ready to defend herself.

You’ll stand a better chance of defeating her if you advance, Kythen said. His fluffy beard waggled and he let out a soft bleat.

“Mer connaei,” she said.

If ‘you know’, then you better start trying. I’ll look out for the fish woman. You work on your advancement.

She shut her eyes tight. In the months before, she had been working on the physical strengthening of their bond, of sending Essence back and forth through the air. It was as strong as it reasonably could be. But that wasn’t enough to advance. She needed to start sharing Kythen’s soul.

She pushed her Essence over to him and let it cycle around his Essence pathways until it ran up his neck and to his soul.

I’ve told you all I can about myself, Kythen said. But I don’t remember much of my life before meeting you.

He hadn’t been sapient until about a year and a half ago. Before, as a free-roaming bloodhorn on the tundras of Ískan, he hadn’t known what was happening to the country. Ten years ago, everything burned, including their feeding grounds. Poachers had slaughtered his herd and sold their horns to alchemists. For another decade or so, he had wandered, until finally, the Dominion captured him and made him drink Ichor.

They had forced him to form a bond with Myraden, and her with him.

Kythen shifted closer and rested his chin on her knee. I know your Familiar was not supposed to be a bloodhorn. I’m sorry.

At least it had been an animal of Ískan. Her family, however, had used a simple Path of the Hawk.

There was nothing left of her family, though. She was the last Cursebearer of Ískan, the last to carry the Silken Bloodline, and there was no one around to judge her for her deviation from centuries of tradition.

No one except yourself, Kythen said. Let go of your shame.

She inhaled slowly, then put her hands on the bloodhorn’s head, feeling his warmth. “Kythen, j’er seid’mer Krejar.” You are my Familiar.

Her core pulsed faintly, and her veil shattered. For a second, the sphere’s surface contracted.

Before she could let the advancement continue, Kythen bleated loudly and sprang to his feet. He shouted through their Reyad, She’s here!

Myraden’s eyes snapped open. She could advance later.

Stepping back from the pillar, she loosened the top half of her spear and spun it. Her head whipped side-to-side as she searched for her foe. They should run, she knew, but if Khara had pursued them this far, then she could keep chasing. Eventually, Myraden would have to fight. “Är-kin kegt?” she asked Kythen.

I’m ready, he responded.

Khara and the boar burst out of the trees. The wizard cleared the way with broad sweeps of her sword, slashing straight through a tree trunk as she ran. With a groan, it collapsed. Myraden leapt to the side to avoid it, then blocked one of Khara’s sword swipes. She pushed Essence into the haft of her spear, strengthening it with a technique much like the Tundra Veins.

Myraden jumped up onto the fallen tree to dodge the next swipe, then leapt down on the other side to stand back-to-back with Kythen.

Without any semblance of grace, Khara hacked the log in half with a heavy blow. Her boar plowed into each half of the tree, scattering both halves. Myraden backed away, deflecting sword swipes.

Khara pinned the spearhead to the ground with a slash of her sword, then flung a claw-shaped arc of Essence at her neck. Myraden dropped the spear and blasted outwards with a palm strike, carrying a blast of her own Essence. It should have deflected the entire attack. But Myraden didn’t have as much output as Khara, nor could she muster as high-grade Essence.

The strike dispersed just before it slit Myraden’s throat, but the strength of the blow still sent her flying. She tumbled though the air, then landed hard on her back and skidded along an exposed stone slab.

Kythen pranced to her side. You need to advance. Now.

Myraden sprang back to her feet, panting. She couldn’t advance in the middle of a battle, not while an enemy was trying to skewer her or scour her flesh from her bone with a thrust of Essence.

I will guide you, Kythen said. Let my mind be yours. It has been a year and a half, Myraden. Trust me. I will not get you killed.

Myraden took a fighting stance, her arms stretched out ahead of her. Then she sucked in a breath and shut her eyes.

Kythen, you are my Familiar.

Her core surged, then imploded in on itself.