If you were to ask Phelim Jocelyn to make a comprehensive list of what he most despised, it wouldn't be particularly surprising to anyone that giant sparrowfrogs were rather high on said list. The feathered amphibians, the largest of which towering over fully-grown men by almost a factor of three, were (in his opinion) the most disgusting beasts known to mankind, annually dropping slime, faeces and tentacled parasites over the entirety of the Republic of Dalkeith during their migrations to the warmer northern climates. While not all of the country's citizens shared his (extreme) distaste for the animals, they were rightfully considered a pest, serving as both a vector for all sorts of diseases (through their waste) and a general nuisance to everyday society (their 3am cries being especially abhorrent for anyone who sought a good night's rest). And like with all pests, it was expected that the government would make use of their collected taxes and "do something about it".

That was where Phelim came into the equation.

As one of the Draoi (or as they were more colloquially known, 'Contractors'), the fiery-haired youth was one of the chosen many on the continent who had signed a pact with the nature spirits, granting him the ability to call forth the very elements themselves to perform his bidding. With this great power, however, also came great responsibility, and thus when the call to action against the amphibian armies arrived, the nineteen year old was forced to take up arms and confront the objects of his most immense hatred in the glorious defence of his beloved country.

By trying to burn them all to death.

"Oi! Watch where you're chucking those things!"

Phelim shook remnants of black smoke away from his right hand, hissing angrily as he watched the cackling frog, in a display of agility that their size belied, leap away from him and into the blue skies. Those damned creatures were mocking him, dancing past his lobbed fireballs with skill and grace one would never expect from a fluffy amphibian. Not a single one of his attacks had even managed to connect, and all he had to show for his efforts so far was charred earth, burning, sizzling slime, and an irate girl with singed hair stomping in his direction.

"You nearly took me head off!" roared the lass as she stalked right up to him, grabbing a few strands of her flowing brown hair (now slightly burnt) to show to the currently-offput Phelim that, yes, he'd nearly managed to strike her in the face with one of his fireballs. "Who'd taught you to shoot? A blind guy?"

"Learn to dodge better then," Phelim responded with equal snappishness, taking a full step back away from her and regaining his personal bubble. "Try learning from these feathered bastards and get out of the damn way next time!"

"What? So you can keep chucking those balls in me direction?"

The girl he had found himself embroiled in an argument with was named Shea Kinnaird, and she, much like him, was also one of the Contractors that had been recruited by Dalkeith authorities to deal with the disruptive presence of the sparrowfrogs. Unlike Phelim, whose magic gave him power over flames (which was in no way associated with the colour of his hair), the eighteen year old girl was instead someone who called the wind her own (rather than earth, as one might have expected of her hair colour). Contractors, depending on the type of nature spirit they had entreated with, were capable of making use of one of each of the four elements, and only one. In the Republic of Dalkeith, that meant that the local Contractors tended to work in hastily-assembled teams of four whenever something needed their powers, with each member serving to provide a source of earth, wind, fire or water.

"Sure, I'll make sure to make 'em real slow so you can actually dodge!"

Shea's blue eyes narrowed, fists clenching at her sides. "You're really cruisin' for a bruisin', aren'tcha?"

Phelim was, incidentally, not at all a fan of this system, particularly when it had stuck him in the unfortunate position of dealing with a woman scorned and wasting precious time he could have spent on eradicating those disgusting frogs off the face of the planet.

Quite fortunately for the Daikeith crusade against the sparrowfrogs, however, the 'team' was made up of four individuals, and at least one of them (not named Phelim or Shea, of course) was the type of person who did their best to resolve such petty disputes. Thus, before he could open his mouth and shoot off a biting retort in the other teenager's direction, Phelim found his head instead trapped in a cold grip, a situation that, from his field of vision, had also occurred to the equally-blindsided Shea.

"Right right, knock it off kids," said an exasperated female voice. "Apologise to each other quickly, okay? The frogs are getting away, and I don't know about you two, but I want to get paid today, okay?"

That voice belonged to Gwyn Rocha, an olive-skinned woman whose steely green eyes were gazing upon the duo of formerly-arguing teenagers with an intensity that promised harsh discipline if they dared ignore her directives. If his head hadn't been held in one of her strong, well-callused hands, then Phelim would likely have been focusing on the fact that her sizable bust was rather close to him. Of course, for all that his teenaged mind could be influenced by his hormones, he was pragmatic and sensible enough to know that it really wasn't the time or place to admire Gwyn's appearance. Especially when she was annoyed enough with the argument he had gotten into.

"Fine," he muttered under his breath, before looking back towards Shea. The younger Contractor seemed equally unwilling to 'kiss and make up' if the frown on her pale face was any indication. That was assuaging knowledge for Phelim, and he was barely able to hide his smirk at knowing that their current situation was also nicking at her pride. Still, it didn't make the apology any more tolerable for him. "Sorry for ... nearly hitting you with that slow fireball," the redhead ground out.

"And I'm sorry for threatening to punch your teeth out," was the reply.

No matter how lackluster both apologies were, the two were still immediately released from Gwyn's powerful grip. Her own expression clearly displayed her dissatisfaction with the duo of teenaged Contractors, but the earth magician knew that it was futile to get anything better out of them. The four Contractors assembled to deal with this group of sparrowfrogs were little more than acquaintances, having only rarely worked with one another in the past. So despite her greater age and experience, she was still far from someone who could convince the squabbling children to bridge their differences.

Getting them off each other's throats (in the bad way) was good enough for her. As long as she could get the job done and get paid by the Dalkeith's administration, then everything else wasn't that important.

"Now that we've got that settled," she said with a cloud clap, giving Phelim and Shea meaningful looks once more, "we've still got frogs to kill. Chop chop kiddos. And try not to damage them too much. We can sell the meat, okay?"

"Easier said than done," grumbled Phelim, roughly stalking past the two females towards the plateau where the frogs had fled to.

Sparrowfrogs may have been a pest, but their size also meant that, with careful preparation, they could also serve as a large source of cheap meat for those willing to put the flesh into their mouths. It would come as no surprise, then, that Phelim was definitely not one of the willing, not when the parasite-ridden amphibians were two letters away from edible had they not undergone proper treatment. Yet they were still 'popular' amongst the lower classes (usually in preserved form), but even before he had contracted with a spirit, he had never taken a single bite of frog. He truly despised them. He despised them in all their slimy glory.

That was why it was so irritating that he had not hit a single one of the ten sparrowfrogs in the area.

A rapid stream of water proceeded to rush down the plateau, carrying the corpse of one of the frogs past him.

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Nine sparrowfrogs, he mentally amended.

Another sparrowfrog slammed against the earth ahead of him with a loud bang, sending dirt and sand flying everywhere. Phelim threw his arm over his eyes, protecting his eyes from the sudden rush of dust. A second later, a choked cry came from the frog, and the fiery redhead looked up to see a tiny form, comically small when compared to the size of the amphibian it was standing atop of, pulling a sword out of the animal's throat sac, blood splurting out as the tip left its now-deceased body.

Silver eyes immediately zeroed in on Phelim. Not a moment later, a grin found its way onto the form's boyish, dimpled face, and with a quiet huff, the child known as Drust Bychan and the final member of their badly-assembled group of Contractors jumped off the frog's corpse, landing in a crouch right in front of the redhead. He was a small boy, barely passing five feet in height, but from his movements and clean kill of the two frogs, it was pretty clear that he was far from lacking in experience (and, no matter how hard Phelim wanted to avoid admitting it, was probably more skilled).

"You took a while!" Drust said cheerfully, ambling closer to Phelim. "It's hard hitting the froggies by myself, yaknow?"

"You look like you're doing just fine," replied Phelim with a laugh, ruffling the boy's curly blue hair. It was hard, and also sort of pathetic for a guy his age, to feel envious of a little kid, which was why despite his own failures in sending even one of those wretched creatures to the grave, he could not possibly hold anything against Drust for being better than him in exterminating the amphibian beasts. "At least you saved some for me."

"Good luck hitting one, mate," Shea snarked as she rushed past them, closing the distance between her and an unfortunate sparrowfrog to thrust her spear straight into its body. The animal violently screeched and writhed, but the brunette was unwilling to pull the weapon free. Instead, she did the opposite and proceeded to thrust in even deeper, wind immediately beginning to circle around the length of the spear shaft. Before Phelim's very eyes, the gust burst forth, slamming through the wound with a loud bang.

A literal bang.

Frog splattered all over them, the putrid feathery flesh landing in their hair and on their clothes with nary a care for their dignity. It came at no surprise that Phelim was the first to shriek out, the sound one would expect more from people in either Drust or Shea's vocal ranges than his. The hated sparrowfrog was all over him, slime and blood included, and he immediately attempted to wipe it all off, hands brushing across his body with frantic motions.

Shea, of course, seemed to be taking great pleasure in his flailing, even though she too was covered in frog (and much more, given her location at the explosion epicentre). If she was in any way disgusted by the frog of course, the sight of Phelim's panic was entertaining enough for her to ignore her disgust.

"That makes us even," she managed to say, her shit-eating grin barely hiding the fact that she was trying not to laugh. "But man, getting super freaked out? That's pathetic, mate."

Phelim saw red. "Don't you fucking start," he snarled, his body bursting immediately into flames. He didn't care about the odour. He didn't care about his clothes. He didn't care about the heat. The abhorrent frog was all on him, and that smug smile on the other Contractor's face was the last straw. He was already having a terrible day, but his irritation at dealing with both the extra-agile frogs and squabbling with Shea had finally reached a breaking point. He was going to burn it all off, and after that he would deal wi-

A shadow fell over him. Drust's eyes widened, mouth opening to shout a warning. Phelim ignored it, swinging his entire body around to fire a massive torrent of flames into the frog that dared sneak up on him. It screamed in pain, feathers burning away from the intense heat of the attack. The slimy skin soon followed, bubbling in liquefying in contact with the fire, sizzling violently. Someone shouted something. He didn't listen. He just wanted to kill this damn frog and immolate it all.

Another shape was coming. He left the flaming skeleton to its gravity-bound fate. With a primal roar, he charged the shape, slamming his burning shoulder into its body. He was still on fire. It hurt. He didn't care. There were frogs to burn to death. The frog tried to flee into the sky. He didn't let it. Fireball to the face.

Someone grabbed his arm. He tried to shake it off.

He turned around in ange-

Darkness.

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Pain was what greeted Phelim's awakening, the soreness in his body becoming immediately relevant the moment his eyes opened to meet blue sky. A gurgled hiss left his mouth, only for him to realise that his throat was incredibly parched, to the extent where it wouldn't be surprising if a desert was less dry. Everything stung, and it took him a few seconds to realise that the pain he was feeling was likely to be sourced from burns. They were healing quickly (which still hurt quite a bit) thanks to his status as a Contractor, but why was he in this state? What had happened?

"You're a real idiot, kiddo."

He turned his head towards the source of the voice. Sitting on a rock, her face the very image of exhaustion, was Gwyn. The woman's tone was full of more exasperation than usual, and it was quickly noticeable that her black ponytail had been undone at some point into a mess, and the frayed ends of her sweater were burnt. Phelim tried to push aside the constant pain for a second to remember. The last thing he could recall was the frog exploding all over him, and ...

He grimaced.

"Just realised huh?" grumbled Gwyn, crossing her arms and shooting him a flat glare. "A routine thing like this is no place to lose control, okay? That was some serious corruption just because of some frogs."

Magic was essentially the primal, uncontained energy of the world itself, and like so many other things in nature, to assume that one could fully tame its power was a folly best left to the gods. Contractors, by taking in the power of the nature spirits, ran the risk of losing control of themselves, falling prey to the wild energies and losing all semblance of their higher faculties. The more magic they used, the greater the chance that their control would simply slip, leaving them as little more than angered, wild beasts in the same vein of Phelim after he gave in to his anger. It could be a corruptive force, one that afflicted both human and beast, driving the former mad and transforming the latter into monsters.

It was said that once, during the time of the giants, that magic was far less dangerous, their wild power more manageable. Yet with the cataclysmic destruction of their civilisation, magic itself was tainted, and humanity was left to sign themselves to this wild power in order to fight the monsters and beasts that threatened their lands.

And in the process, those Contractors, changed by alchemy and surgeries into something superhuman in order to become masters of the elements, could become the same wild animals they sought to destroy.

"All the frogs are dead, by the way," Gwyn added, watching as Phelim stewed in apprehension. "So don't go crazy on us again, okay?"

To lose control so easily was shameful for Phelim, a blow to his pride that not even that casual joke could fix. It was unusual for him to have fallen so far so quickly, but the fact was that it had happened, and he hated it. Hated himself for it. The amount of magic he had called upon was in far lesser quantity than what he tended to expend, and yet he still nearly lost himself.

"Well, no point beating yourself up about it now," the woman said casually, standing up with a quiet yawn to stretch her legs out. "But I'll tell you what though, after we beat all the frogs ..."

She paused for a moment, tapping her pointer finger against her chin.

"... the Shea kiddo found something weird on the plateau."

If Phelim could have managed to say anything, he would have, but his throat, still parched and dry as ever, refused to let him. However, his questioning gaze seemed to be enough to prompt Gwyn to continue on.

"Anyway, I don't think you should put too much stock into this, okay, but we all felt a bit sketch during our fights too," she continued, watching him for further responses. "And that thing, it was blinking before Shea snapped it in half, well, I have a hunch that it might've been responsible for why we felt like that and why you went totally off the reservation."

That piqued his interest. A weird object that had some sort of purpose lying around during a routine battle against a few disgusting sparrowfrogs? Inwardly, Phelim cursed Shea for breaking it before he knew what it was and before he could smash it himself, and it seemed that his opinion (or at least, the former part of the opinion) was one that the older Contractor echoed.

Gwyn shook her head. "Wish she hadn't snapped it, but we're going to take the parts back to the Capital to see if anybody knows anything. I know a guy who might be able to tell us something."

"... Us?" Phelim croaked out.

An awkward laugh left the woman. "Ehehe, well, I know we're not pals or anything, but, well, you're a fellow Contractor, okay? If stuff happens to you, it might happen to me one day, and I can't get paid if I'm a goner. Even if we aren't going to work together much in the future, I want to follow up on this hunch on mine, okay?"

She crouched down, doing her best to seem level with Phelim.

"This really bugs me," she declared. "So that's why, with you being the victim and all, I want your help."

Phelim stared at her. He could still feel his shame at losing control. Yet, if it hadn't been entirely his fault, if whatever that thing Shea destroyed could have been responsible, if someone else drove him to this state, then he definitely would want to reach the bottom of everything, and if there was someone, punch that someone in the face for daring to interfere with his eradication of those frogs.

He mutely nodded. If there was something, if it wasn't a hunch, then there was only one answer.

"Great," grinned Gwyn, her beautiful face lighting up in the first smile she had made the entire day. "Really appreciate having you and the other kiddos onboard. Let's keep working together to find the truth, okay?"