Roan’s head popped off its body. With his fey vision off, Oz couldn’t see the threads, so it simply appeared to fly of its own volition. Roan’s jaw hung open, slack and loose, his lower eyelids drooping to show too much of his eyeballs.

Oz jumped back, startled. Instantly, he activated his fey vision again. Threads filled the air before them, twisting and twining like hungry snakes.

Aisling didn’t hesitate. She charged the tree. As she ran, fire burst over her skin, sparking from her eyes and mouth, flickering in the tail of her braid.

The threads and the branches together whirled, splitting into two great arms. They pulled back, preparing to punch. Caught in the middle, Roan dangled lifelessly, bouncing gently against the tree’s trunk.

Oz put a hand to his mouth, swallowing back the urge to vomit. So this is the mages’ world. This is the brutality everyone has warned me about. Roan dangles there, dead, because he made a single mistake. And if Aisling and I aren’t victorious, we’ll hang there beside him.

‘We,’ nothing. I’ll hang there with her, Fflyn interjected.

Oz glanced at him. I’ll hang in spirit, Fflyn. It’s much like sending thoughts and prayers.

Huh?

It makes the person saying it feel better, but it doesn’t do anything in reality.

Oh. Yeah, I was happier not knowing.

In any case, I’m not going to let you die. We’re going to survive this. Oz’s eyes burned. He stepped forward. “Aisling! Strike left, now!”

Aisling whipped around, snapping her right leg out in a roundhouse kick. Fire sparked in the threads, and the thread-knitted arm fell back, flinching in pain as black marred its silvery thread flesh. The branches, attached to the upper part of the thread arm, flew back as well.

Aisling landed. She lifted her leg and shook it experimentally. “I struck something.”

“Right—I can see it! Follow my commands, and we can defeat it!” Oz declared.

She nodded, turning back.

The other arm whooshed in, flying toward her back. Oz’s eyes widened. “Jump toward me! Now!”

Red glowed from Aisling’s chest, burning in her veins. She pushed off the ground and vanished, leaving a deep footprint rimmed in fire and nothing.

The fist impacted the ground a moment later, smashing the footprint away. High above it, hair flickering around her face and braid snapping on the wind, Aisling raised her brows, startled.

“Drop down. It’s right below you!”

She nodded. Leaning forward, she whipped around in midair, tracing flames behind her, and dropped down onto the fist, smashing her heel into the back of the giant hand. Flames spurted up, burning around the impact point and surging up the surface of the arm.

The hand beneath her opened, falling flat on the ground. It laid there, as if stunned.

“Keep hitting it!” Oz called, keeping an eye on the other arm.

Aisling nodded. She stomped down, raining blow after blow onto the giant hand. Fire blasted up where her blows landed.

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Behind it, the other arm reared back. Open-palmed, it loomed over the other hand, about to drop.

“Get out of there! Dart to the side, now! Five meters!”

She leaped to the side, landing on the edge of the hand. Aisling teetered there for a moment, struggling to regain her balance.

The lifted hand swung down, swatting at the back of its other hand.

“Keep going! Don’t stop!” Oz shouted, tensing in terror.

Seconds before the hand struck, she threw herself to the side. A sharp slap sounded out as the hands struck. Landing on her shoulder, she rolled over the cobbles and fell into a heap of tangled limbs, braid twisted up with the rest. For a moment, she laid there.

The swatting hand lifted again. It smashed down on the cobbles and swept toward Aisling, pushing a wave of stones and mud ahead of it.

Oz glanced between the hand and Aisling, tracking every moment as it grew closer. “Aisling! Move!”

Aisling twitched. She clawed her way to a half sit, still dazed, head ducked.

Knowing it was too late, knowing there was nothing he could do, Oz sprinted in, his stomach tight. Not Aisling… please, not Aisling!

From out of the sky, a bolt of silvery fur. The hand fell back, flying halfway across the courtyard to flop and roll into the corner.

Loup crouched between the hand and Aisling, her teeth bared in a growl. A pair of wolves flanked her, growling at the hand. She turned and spat a mouthful of the threads, then darted after the hand. Her wolf companions ran with her, chasing after it.

The hand retreated, lifting into the air away from Loup. Undeterred, Loup leaped after it and grabbed on with all four limbs, clawing and biting her way into the threads. The hand shook, trying to throw her off, but couldn’t defeat Loup’s determined grip. It swung low, and the two wolves jumped on as well, latching on with iron jaws and ferocious growls.

“Loup! You can…” see them. She’s half fey. Of course she can. Oz turned to Aisling. “Aisling!”

Sitting up, Aisling shook her head. She bounded to her feet, narrowing her eyes. “Where is the enemy?”

Oz turned, taking in the battlefield. He pointed. “Dead ahead, still lying on the ground! A big blast of fire, right ahead of you!”

Aisling drew back her hands. Fire balled in her fists, growing brighter with every passing moment, The hand twitched, startled to life. It struggled up to its fingertips, arm a dead weight, branches refusing to help.

Oz grinned. Good! She damaged it so much it can’t escape. Now, for the final blow—

The hand tensed its fingertips. With all its might, it extended its fingers and shoved itself directly up into the air, away from the ground and Aisling’s fire ball. Dust poofed off the ground behind it.

Shit! All her qi will go to waste! “Aisling, abo—”

Before he could finish the shout, Aisling turned, tracking the arm upward. She threw her hands forward, unleashing a blast of fire at the hand. Fire raced up the arm, quickly catching in the delicate threads. In a few moments, flame engulfed the entire hand.

Mid-shout, Oz’s jaw dropped. He went silent. Huh? How did she do that? She clearly couldn’t see the hand, so how…why could she see it now?

Or did she just follow the force and direction of the blow when it pushed itself off the ground, based on the dust it threw up, or something? Is that something martial mages can do? Not at first level, according to the library, but she’s a little stronger than that…I think. I’ll have to ask.

Aisling focused, her hands outstretched. The fire raged through the branches, surging higher as she poured orange qi into the spell. In a matter of seconds, the blaze raced up the branch arms and sunk into the heart of the trunk. The whole three thrashed, bark creaking and falling free. It beat its own body with its branch arms in a futile attempt to put out the flames. With a shrill shriek and the eerie the whistle of boiling sap, the central trunk split in two, cracking open to reveal red- and white-hot embers in the heart of the tree. The whole time, Aisling kept her hands thrust out, eyes focused, chest heaving as she poured energy into the spell.

At last, she lowered her hands. The flames flickered down, leaving little but blackened logs and ashes. Aisling drooped, bracing herself on her knees, still panting heavily.

Oz ran up to her side, offering her his shoulder. She patted him and stood, wiping her mouth.

Right, right. I’m too short to lean on as Fflyn. His heart panged, just a little.

Hey! Who are you calling short?

Ignoring Fflyn, Oz blinked. Wait. I didn’t activate my eye, but I still saw Aisling’s qi. Huh?

Are there levels to my eye’s activation? Do I not need to have the physical eye to see qi? Is it something like… like having an enchanted object, so the spell is always active, even when I’m not physically near it?

I don’t understand enough about my eye. I need to do more research. Figure out what Madame Saoirse did to this body of Ossian’s.

Dammit, add it to the list.