The man stepped forward, pushing a pair of round glasses up on his nose. The priest appeared, gazing down on them. To his left, a burly man loomed, face empty, eyes white. To his right, a slender young girl stumbled over the rocks, her eyes white as well. Blood dripped down her knees, but she walked on with no reaction.

Oz squinted. He’s the necromancer? No way.

“How fortunate that he left these two puppets behind,” the priest murmured to himself. He snapped his fingers.

The girl and the man leapt toward them with unnatural strength, jumping the space from the rock outcropping to halfway across the field in a single bound. The earth quaked from the force of their landing, and dirt flew up from beneath their feet.

The girl darted toward them, while the man raced off toward Loup. Their feet left three-inch depressions in the ground. In a blur, the girl reached them. A punch flew toward Oz’s face.

Oz startled. Too fast!

Aisling pushed Oz behind her. She stepped forward and lifted her arm, blocking the girl’s punch. A sound like two bats hitting one another rang out, and Aisling winced.

The girl jumped back. She bounced in place, head turning from Oz to Aisling. Abruptly, she blurred forth again. Her body twisted around Aisling, and she lashed out toward Oz.

Eyes wide, Aisling spun. She reached for the girl, but too slow. The girl’s fist closed in on Oz.

Oz grinned. He jumped back, revealing a scratch mark exactly where he’d stood.

The girl slammed her foot down, her heavy step rocking the ground. A loud crack rang out, and the girl stumbled as the ground under her foot gave out, then the pot, then the skull, and she landed ankle-deep in rotting brain.

“Oh, yikes,” Oz muttered, grimacing in disgust. Objective achieved, but at what cost?

Seizing the moment, Aisling whirled. Fire burst out from her fist and elbow, and she punched the side of the girl’s head. The girl’s head snapped back. Her ankle cracked, and she fell backward. A crater caved a hole in the size of her head.

The girl stumbled, pulling her broken ankle out of the hole. Without hesitation, she stood on the broken bone, her head slightly tilted to the side, blood leaking out slowly, dark and dry.

Oz pressed his lips together. As expected. She’s a zombie. Or, well, some kind of undead. “Aisling, burn her!”

“Yes!” Aisling charged after the girl and punched down at her head.

The girl threw her arms up to block. Aisling’s fist landed, and Aisling grinned. Fire burst from her fist and charged over the girl’s body. Totally unbothered, the girl drew back her now-burning fist and smashed it toward Aisling’s gut.

“Aisling!”

She stumbled back, absorbing the blow. Wiping her mouth, she lifted her hands again.

The girl stepped toward Aisling, but stumbled. She fell to her knees. Without hesitation, she climbed up again, but halfway through, her body began to creak and crack. Her skin blackened. She reached up toward Aisling. Fire surged from her eye sockets and mouth, her body falling apart, tendons pulling taut. She froze, then crumbled, burned to bones and ash.

“She’s dead. Again,” Oz murmured, watching while her body burned.

Across the way, Loup snarled. She turned, spitting the man’s forearm to the side. The man darted in again, punching with his missing arm.

“No—idiot! Use the other arm!” the priest shouted, frustrated.

Oz nodded at Aisling. “Go help Loup with the other zombie. I’ll handle the priest.”

“Understood.” Aisling leaped off, sprinting toward Loup.

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Oz turned toward the rocky outcropping. The priest caught his gaze and whipped around, tearing off over the stone.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Get back here!” Oz shouted, chasing after the priest.

It only took a moment to catch up. Oz landed in front of him and folded his arms behind him like a peerless expert, giving the priest a threatening look. It was hard, with Fflyn’s height, but he put in the effort.

The priest stumbled back with a yelp. His feet slipped on the scree, and he fell backward. He scrambled away, too scared to even climb back to his feet. “I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me! I’m just a mortal!”

Oz flicked Fflyn’s blond hair imposingly. He stepped forward and planted his foot on the priest’s chest, pushing the man onto his back. “Who is it? Who created this formation? Who gave you the zombies?” Or whatever they are. Zombies is close enough.

The priest threw up his hands. “I’m just a priest! I—I had to save myself! I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to die—”

“Who was it?” Oz roared, pushing the man down on the rock. Internally, he winced. I don’t want to do this, but dammit. I need to know! And if this man just tells me, I can give up on this whole dangerous journey and report back now. I’ve got more than enough evidence. I just need a name!

And to verify that name, but…argh, okay. I can’t end it here either way. But come on. A name!

“I, I, I don’t remember!”

Oz looked down at the priest, stony faced. He exerted his pressure, for the first time ever.

Weight slammed down all around him. Oz felt it, without feeling it, as if he stomped down, but with the air all around him instead of his foot. The air thickened, but he could breath it fine. Gravity weighed on everything, but he stood fine.

He turned to the priest. His eyes narrowed.

“Tell. Me.”

The priest gasped. He nodded, his chest heaving, barely able to speak. “It, it was—”

His face contorted, turning red, then blue. He grabbed at his throat and thrashed, flailing wildly.

Startled, Oz jumped back. He scanned the man with his qi, and saw what little qi the man had naturally running rampant inside him, raging and destroying his body as it went. In the space of a breath, the priest laid dead before him, no more breath or qi in him at all.

“That… what…”

“That’s what happens when you renege on a pact,” Aisling said, coming up behind him. With a grunt, she jumped from the stone rift to his side and nodded at the body. “Even for mortals. Your body twists, your qi revolts. You die a horrible, painful death. Higher level cultivators can resist the effects somewhat, especially if they make a pact with a lower level cultivator, but even then, it’s a significant setback to their cultivation. It can even ruin someone’s entire foundation and destroy their future as a cultivator.”

Oz raised his brows. “Fuck.” Man. Sachairi was really committed to the bit, huh? This is what core pacts do. He looked at the priest’s twisted body and pressed his lips together.

Yeah, I think I’m going to agree to zero more of those, thanks.

“At least it confirms that a mage is behind it. And a mage who doesn’t want their name getting out,” Oz murmured. Not that anyone wants their name associated with necromancy, but the chances of it being someone from the Mages’ Quarter goes up. After all, the righteous mages of the Quarter have the most to lose from being associated with necromancy. It’s literally against the foundation of half the sects’ beliefs, let alone any practical considerations.

He let out a deep breath. “Okay. Well. Let’s keep going. We still don’t know who’s in charge. I need some kind of hint. Something that ties this to someone.”

Aisling nodded. Lifting the crystal to her eye, she surveyed the zombies and the knot Loup had scratched in the ground, bounding over to take clearer images of the heads inside the jars. When she was done, she returned to Oz’s side. “Where from here?”

“Loup, do you know any more bad places?” Oz asked, turning.

The wolf girl squatted nearby, scratching the back of her ear with her foot. She turned, startled. “Huh?”

“Any more places like these. Do you know any?” Oz tried again.

Loup’s lip lifted. She nodded.

“Would you take us there?”

She hesitated, then narrowed her eyes. “I need more than chicken.”

“Would beef suffice?” Aisling asked, lifting her hand to her ring.

Eyes glittering, Loup nodded. “I’ll take you there! For three beef!”

Aisling reached to her bracelet, but Oz lifted his hand. “We’ll deliver the beef when you take us there.” After all, she’s the one who brought up the first ‘bad place.’ We have no guarantee that there’s a second one.

Loup bared her teeth, her nose wrinkled, then stood and dusted off her pants. “Fine.” She strode off.

Oz and Aisling followed after her, bounding into the forest.

A few moments later, the trees rustled. A figure in black stood at the edge of the break in the woods, looking over the rocky field and the knot scratched in the flatland below. The figure lifted a black stone to their mouth.

“Elder Silverfang.”

No response. The figure lowered the stone and looked over their shoulder. Mist closed in behind them, slowly creeping through the forest. Birdsong and the sound of small creatures rustled around them, but on the far side of the mist, no sound emerged.

The figure swallowed. They stared at the mist for another few seconds, then darted after the other three, leaping from tree to tree.

From the woods, a pair of wolves emerged. Watching the figure go, they padded off again, flowing like silver water over the rocky ground.

When all had passed, the mist swept over everything, washing the world in gray. It cloaked the world in silence. Trees poked out of the mist, but only for a few moments. The mist swallowed them up, and nothing remained. The white wall closed in.