Pirin raised his sword and stepped back to the center of the control room’s roof, where the chain met stone. Gray backed up on the other side, spreading her wings and making an aggressive, protective cluck that almost sounded like a chicken.

“So…uh, hey guys!” Pirin said. He was facing Lady Clase now. “Gray, he whispered, “Let me know if the other guy does anything, alright?”

I’ve been warning you for the past half-hour…

“You know what I mean.”

“Let’s not drag this out, now,” Lady Clase said. “It’s simple. I will rip your limbs from your body to keep you from running, and I expect my nephew to do the same.” She scrutinized him for a second, and a chill ran down his spine. She’d scanned his spirit. “A little advancement won’t save you, no matter your Timbers.”

“How strong, aunt?” the nephew asked.

“Not strong enough to take a Catch and a Flare at once.”

Pirin couldn’t fight them both at the same time. He needed to separate them.

He jumped back, then spun around to the other side of the chain. Encasing his sword in a shield of sharp wind, he slashed at the chain. He aimed at a rusty link exactly at eye level, and aimed the cutting edge straight at an especially thick patch of rust. The blade cut—or more appropriately, smashed—clean through. The link groaned, the rest of it straining under the weight of the control room.

Then it plummeted.

The room smashed down through the tip of the crystal spire, falling until it reached a harder core. Pirin jumped back and pulled Gray with him. A shard of opaque white crystal blasted up through the floor, then the roof

The falling control room lurched, and Pirin feared it might be stopping—far earlier than planned.

But, before the two Saltspray wizards could recover and attack, the room cracked in half. One side, the side with Lady Clase, fell to one side of the spire. The other side, where Pirin had pulled Gray, tumbled down the other side of the spire. They just happened to have a passenger—the nephew.

Pirin jumped off the falling platform before it turned over mid-air and dashed him against the spire. Gray fluttered off as well.

The air whistled around him as he fell. The floor was only seconds away.

He kicked down with his legs and pushed his hands out, mustering a blast of air from each limb. It slowed him. He pushed it slightly to the side, throwing himself away from the spire and any crystal shard waiting to impale him.

The crystal sand at the bottom of the pit caught him. He tumbled through it, kicking up a cloud of dust. By the time he slowed down, it caked his hair like snow.

Pirin staggered to his feet, and Gray fluttered down just beside him. A little warning, next time? she asked.

He brushed his hands together and gripped his sword with both hands again. “Sorry…”

Then he turned his attention back to the spire. A cloud of dust had erupted around the base, pluming around the impact of the control room—or what was left of it.

The dust parted with a boom, and the nephew streaked out of it, bleeding from a gash on his forehead and shoulder. He leaked thin wizard’s blood, and that was more damage than Pirin had expected.

The nephew was only a Catch. No Enhanced body yet.

“We’re finally on level ground,” Pirin whispered to Gray. The nephew sprinted towards them, his feet pounding in the sand.

I wouldn’t say that! she said. He’s reaching the peak of his stage!

“Judging by what Lady Clase said, we have a better foundation.” Pirin flourished his sword, his arm and fingers responding to the command without relying on instinct. “We need to make it quick, before Lady Clase does catch up.”

I don’t think your foundation will compare to his sheer Essence output!

“It won’t matter if we defeat him fast.”

Pirin thrust his arms down and swirled his Essence around his body as fast as he could, turning his channels into a guideway for a hurricane. Air followed, whistling around his body. “Ready?”

Don’t get us killed.

Pirin sprinted towards the nephew with his full-body air shield active. It cut the air in front of him, and each step carried him twice as far. On the last step, he leapt, raising his sword and directing the majority of the shield into it.

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He had timed it perfectly, and when he began to fall, he directed the wind to push him down, giving his attack extra strength.

Lord Clase raised his Essence-imbued cane and blocked. Pirin’s sword didn’t even cut through the first layer of swirling green beaver Essence before Clase pushed, heaving him off.

“I am Lord Varrus Clase!” he yelled, running his hand along the length of the cane. When he reached the tip, two twin blades of Essence manifested. "Be warned: you face my Path of the Twofold Blade." The beaver on his shoulder chittered angrily.

Is he saying anything important? Gray asked.

"Just babbling." Pirin rolled over and jumped up to his feet.

The nephew—Varrus Clase—lunged. He unleashed a barrage of tight jabs, which Pirin deflected, spinning his sword side-to-side. Each blow connected with greater and greater intensity. Varrus’ Essence was building in the ‘spear’, and with each jab, more of it sloshed to the front. A few more jabs, and there’d be enough Essence to blast Pirin into mist with a single touch.

Pirin pulled his scabbard off his hip, and the next time Varrus thrust his spear, Pirin trapped the haft between his sword and scabbard. Pirin pushed it into the ground. Varrus lifted up and tried to thrust one more time, but Pirin pushed it back down into the dust.

The beaver pounced off his shoulder. Pirin ducked and spun away, then swatted the creature with his scabbard. It tumbled across the sand. “Gray! Pin it!”

On it! She chased after it, her talons outstretched, and slammed the creature into the ground. Varrus grunted along with the impact, but he still raised his spear and gave one last attack, blasting a beam of Essence out at Pirin.

Pirin turned and leapt to the side, but the beam still sliced across his chest. It didn’t burn, but it shredded his flesh and left a deep score, as if a thousand miniature teeth had gnawed at him. Gray shrieked and fluttered back from the beaver, flapping her wings hard enough to stir up a fog of dust.

Pirin fell to his hands and knees, clenching his teeth, but Varrus wouldn’t give him time to rest. He marched forwards, an aura of glowing Essence still swirling around his cane. The two-pronged Essence head remained, but only as an outline. Pirin had time until it built power back up.

He lunged again, but Pirin pushed the weapon to the side. The miniscule amount of Essence built up by that one lunge vented immediately.

Pushing it to the side breaks the chain! Gray exclaimed. Pirin sprung to his feet, controlling the cloak of wind around him to help himself up faster.

Pirin let Varrus lunge a few more times, then, with a twirl of his sword, he pushed the spear off to the side—and far to the side. A beam of green Essence scoured the crystal sand, creating a wall of fog. Gray grabbed the beaver with her beak and tossed it through the fog, then dove back on top of it, driving her beak down at it.

Varrus shouted and lunged, locking Pirin’s sword between the two prongs of the spearhead. “What Path do I fight? Announce yourself, elf, if you maintain the honour of your people!”

Pirin widened his stance, shifting his weight forwards and using the wind to keep him in place. “Path of the Gnatsnapper.” He tried to look confident, but his core was depleting, and Essence was radiating off him in feather-shaped clumps. He’d be out soon.

“Impossible!” Varrus’ grip on his spear shifted. “A base animal Path? How? Swords are for—”

“I had a good teacher,” Pirin snarled. The leather grip beneath his hands heated up, and a faint blue light pulsed in the cracks between his fingers. He pushed up until his crossguard met Varrus’ spear, then jumped, urging the man’s weapon up. With the last bits of gnatsnapper Essence he could muster, he activated a Winged Kick.

Varrus staggered back, barely keeping a grip on his spear.

Pirin’s wind cloak sputtered out, and he fell to the ground like a stone. He landed in a crouch and ripped off his mask.

A plume of dust was rising on the other side of the spire. Lady Clase was sprinting over. She’d close the distance in less than a minute.

Pirin needed to break Varrus’ guard, and he needed to do it now. He tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt, concentrating on the hilt. “Just a bit of Reign. Just a bit.” He spun his sword up into a high, offensive guard, then whispered, “Nynhar. Lahess-Aya.”

The sword’s blade sharpened in an instant, and a shhhing ran down the fuller, as if someone had scraped a stone down it. The light beneath his hands faded, but the blade still shone, reflecting light that didn’t exist. An aura gathered around the blade, like the Eane was condensing directly onto the weapon. Bits of the Eane that specifically oversaw swords.

This better be Reign.

There was only one way to find out. He swung down at Varrus, and the man lifted his spear, ready to block.

Pirin’s sword cleaved straight through air as if it was touching the fabric of the world itself, pressing against it but not yet slicing. It contacted the arcane coating of Varrus’ spear with a boom, then cut straight through. The sword dimmed and dulled, but the shield was already broken. With pure physical force, Pirin slashed through the rest of the cane.

Varrus’ cane split in half, and the Essence scattered. Splinters of wood splashed out to the sides.

Before Varrus could muster an empty-handed technique, Pirin blasted him in the chest with a Shattered Palm. He fell back on the sand, holding two dim, useless shards of wood. Gray had the beaver pinned to the ground, and she used her weight to hold the creature in place.

Pirin chased Varrus to the ground and pressed his sword up against the man’s throat. “Stay down. I…uh, I have no quarrel with the Saltsprays or the sects of Dulfer’s Reach.” He narrowed his eyes. Lady Clase was getting closer. Pirin only had seconds. “You are outmatched. Don’t—”

Varrus stabbed one of the broken shafts of wood up at Pirin. Pirin shifted to the side, then slid his sword across Varrus’ throat, just deep enough to deliver a fatal blow. Gray drove her beak down into the beaver’s throat with one quick and powerful peck, severing its head and putting both Familiar and wizard out of their misery.

He jumped to his feet, ready to deal with Lady Clase. He would have to do something. Mentally, he searched through his list of options. Nothing came to mind that would help him defeat her.

She conjured a pair of Essence blades on both of her wrists, and she shouted something indistinguishable. Raising her arms, she poised herself to deal a maiming blow.

Before she could swing, a single loud, deep flute tone blasted through the spherical cavern.

Lady Clase skittered to a halt and looked around.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. That’s my disciple you’re about to lay your hands on.”