Korsha’s entire body was tense, her insides roiling under the pressure. The nervous energy was ready to burst forth from her at any moment. The mad etchitari had come here while they were gone. Rushing over to one of the supply crates, she found it torn open. The hinges bent from the force. Half the supplies were missing while the other half were slung all about the camp.

"Waiting in ambush seems like it would've been the better tactic." Her master said, "Perhaps that's what we'll do tomorrow."

Korsha turned, flashing a proudful grin, "Master, I can find him. He left a trail that only I can follow."

Her master nodded in approval, his eyes appraising her as he said, “Lead the way."

Now with a trail to follow Korsha headed out of the camp. The trail led towards the northern cave system. How had the other hunters missed the creature? As she ventured deeper, her nose wrinkled. The air was heavy with the stench of a metallic musk. It made Korsha’s insides churn. Her hand rose, a flag to signal a halt. There was the soft snap of her master’s pistol holster unbuckling. He understood. A moment later he was standing next to her, a cylinder in his hand. Flexing his wrist, the cylinder elongated. Now a spear.

He nodded.

Korsha crept.

Together they made their way into the tunnel. The smell grew heavier and heavier, from a fragrance to a perfume. The sickly sweet aroma of death settled in the back of her throat as she saw the eviscerated bodies. The massacre painted the walls in dark sprays of blood. There was a faint dripping sound and Korsha padded over and eyed a small ledge. It wasn’ fresh but this kill wasn’t old either.

Returning to the bodies, Korsha knelt down and examined them. Her eyes flowed across the deep gash in the etchitari’s side. The skin was flayed back, muscled exposed. She could see bits of orange bone beneath the bloody meat. She inspected the ground, questioning it. It revealed few signs of a struggle. An ambush? Her gut agreed with this conclusion yet…

Something wasn’t right.

That little bit, that tiny detail she couldn’t quite pin down gnawed at her. It wore down her courage, making her want to retreat. To return with reinforcements. Yet… curiosity called to her. Anchored her, fixing her to the ground where she knelt once more. The answer was hidden in the wounds. Each one was long and clean. Clean? She grabbed the etchitari’s torn robes and heaved. Her muscles protested but her armor kicked in, helping to lift the weight. A curse slipped out from Korsha’s mouth, her panic now manifested in the form of the broken etchitari that now stared up at her with dull marbled eyes. She checked the claws. The nails were short. Jagged. Broken. Broken like the mind that had wielded them against the cavern walls.

"How bad is it?"

Korsha leaned heavily upon her knee. Fear was a burden, weighless and drowning. It emptied everything out of her save the will to survive. Yet years of training, rigid, brutal, exacting, slammed into her. Reinforcing her. Binding her and forcing her to answer.

“It’s the mad etchitari. Someone’s butchered-”

Movement. She’d barely caught it out of the corner of her eye. They were being flanked. She moved. Not fast enough. Heart raced, pounding. She turned only to feel the impact of something hard against her temple send her tumbling. The world spun. The ground rose. Slapped her. She gasped, a reflex to try and capture the air that was now forced out of her. Her horn throbbed, having absorbed a great deal of the blow. Darkness crept in on the edges of her vision.

The darkness was heavy, wrapping about her and constricting her awareness. It smothered the sounds of… what? It was hard to think. Hard to feel. Hard to focus. Hard to… to? To… A knowing surged up from the core of her being. It struggled against the darkness. Waged war, gained ground and retreated a thousand times in the measure of a heartbeast. Yet it touched Korsha’s mind. Her body dull and untamed listened, though with a will of its own as her hand flopped against her armor.

"Help me." She gasped.

There was a burst of heat upon her chest. Tiny legs pricked against the edges of the darkness.Then they stabbed at it. Poked holes. Created a sky. Stars of light glimmered, intensified, coalesced and merged into an endless light.

Korsha gasped, the vice grip around her mind eased. It was enough for her to shove against the cold indifferent stone, bringing herself up. She stumbled. Caught a stalagmite, a dull metallic scrape as her hand found its anchor. The edges of her vision were still blurry but with every second of Aunaku's power they were becoming crisper. Sharper.

Her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to assess the situation. There were grunts behind her. She turned. Blood drained from her face as she saw her master barely avoid being stabbed. The attacker was lithe. Their form was covered in a dark oily metal. Their movements preternatural. Graceful. Seeming to flow out of the way of each spear thrust. Her master panted, labored breaths that announced the turning tide.

Korsha screamed, surging forward. She threw off the thin cloak of fatigue as she rushed to join her master. She grabbed Aunaku and forced him back into his orb. She couldn’t allow Aunaku to remain, he’d continue in simpleminded determination to restore her. He’d either succeed or burn himself out. It was far too valuable of an asset to lose and he might be needed for her master.

Closing the distance, Korsha unclipped the Lasher from her belt. Her arm rose and she lunged, using her hips to send the tip whistling through the air. There was a sharp crack as the whip struck the side of their assailant's face. Her master seized on the opportunity to plant several quick blows that sent their assailant stumbling backwards. She came to stop next to her master. The enemy had lost the advantage.

“Spread out.”

Korsha obeyed, circling away. The enemy crouched, head forced to dart back and forth as they considered the battlefield that was now on two fronts. Korsha struck the ground with her lasher, slowly trying to force them into exposing their flank to her master’s spear. The tip shot through the air and then snapped taunt. Korsha’s eyes widened as she saw the enemy holding onto the end. The opponent yanked. Korsha latched onto the momentum, and shot forward.

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The force bled out, but it was enough for her armored knuckles to smash into the side of her opponent’s helmet. She grinned as her returned favor forced the attack back. Into a spin. Korsha saw the savage kick only for a briefest of seconds. Her poorly positioned defense send white hot pain forking through her forearms.

Korsha retreated. Gathering distance. Yet it was lost as the attacker pursued her. She dodged, ducked and swatted away the strikes. They were like lightning. Almost to fast for her to anticipate. She couldn’t latch onto one to give her an advantage. Even with her shortened time, her instincts were molasses compared to her opponent. Her body was growing heavier, each defensive move was a fight through muddy water. The ache in her arms and legs intensified, a bonfire turned into an inferno.

They know my power, Korsha thought as she stumbled backwards.

"Give me an opening."

Korsha nodded and squatted. She jumped backwards but was stopped. Her opponents fingers were now laced into her chest plate. Korsha was yanked forward. Korsha’s head exploded in a white flash as she was headbutted. Her thicker skull saved her from blacking out, though her vision was now bleary, streaked with unwelcome tears. She was struck, each invisible blow breaking her. She dropped, unable to stand against the hurricane of force before her.

There was the screech of a gun.The heat blossomed in a rush of hot air that washed over her, scraping against her exposed face. She summoned Aunaku. The relentless spirit jumped right back into its work. There was another bark of gunfire. Then another. She shoved the edges of her fists into her eyes, manually trying to clear them.

It wasn’t working.

Through the bleary hazy, she saw the shadow of the figure being pressed back beneath streaks of blaster bolts. Though if any hit, she didn’t know. She suspected the sustained gunfire meant that the attacker was continuing to outpace the rather slow-moving bolts. Staggering up to her feet, she stumbled over to her master. Her eyes cleared, though only enough for her to see shapes.

"Are you able to fight?" Her master said, his gaze fixed solely upon their opponent.

Korsha panted, each breath heavy and labored but she straightened, “Let’s do this.”

She activated her suit’s additional arms. Though shaklers wouldn't do anything against their opponent, as their body would overcome them, Korsha was hoping that six potential strike vectors would throw their opponent off balance.

Rushing forward, Korsha drew on her power. She heard the bark of the laser gun.The red bolt shot past and she tethered herself to it. Propelled forward, the world blurred around her. She arched her arm back, holding it until the last moment when she launched it forward. There was a sickening screech of metal as the helmet broke.

Seizing the opportunity, Korsha used her six arms to grapple her opponent. The servos whined as they struggled to contain their prize. Her own hands were free, reserved for strangling the downed fighter. All the emotions from the last couple days stormed within her, honed into a dagger's edge. Her fingers wrapped around and squeezed. No response.

Her master's heavy footsteps echoed as he ran towards her. Korsha glared down at her opponent. They turned their head causing a chunk of helmet to fall away. It smacked against the ground in a dull metallic ring. Red hair spilled out like a pool of blood. The world froze. Korsha couldn’t breathe, though her heart pounded against her ribcage. She’d only seen that particular shade of hair color on one other person.

The one person she could never forget.

Though she desperately wanted to.

The chaotic whirlpool of confusion and guilt overwhelmed her mind. Her hands reflexively released their hold. Coming up, trembling. A new wellspring of guilt to drink from. She could only make out the faintest curve of a lip as the woman’s hand slipped free and raised it before Korsha’s face.

Fire.

Beautiful, deadly fire.

"Sister."

Just like in her nightmares, the flames rushed towards her. This time she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She stared as though entranced. Watching as the fire’s serpentine tongues licked the air, drawing closer. Some unseen force smashed into her side sending her sprawling to the ground. There was a horrifying scream. Still dazed, Korsha rolled onto her side. Terror gripped her as she saw the flames, those meant for her, were now eating away at her master’s body.

The world shattered beneath her. She screamed and pushed herself up. Everything moved in slow motion save for her heart that was trying to tear itself out of her chest. Some distant part of her heard shouts behind them coming from the way they had come. She threw herself on top of her master to shield him. A wheezing groan escaped his lips as the flames bite at her armor, their fangs sinking into her soft neck and cheeks before fading away. She clenched her eyes preparing for the next torrent.

But it never came.

Korsha lay atop her fallen master. Her eyes unfocused. Her mind fell into a silent void. She could hear her own breaths but it seemed as though they belonged to someone else. She was distantly aware of hands grabbing at her and pulling her away. Her body didn't fight them. She didn’t fight them. They drug her along, setting her down a short distance away. Her head lolled, unable to hold itself up. The world was a gray featureless enigma she could no longer understand. Something incoherent and absurd.

The world whispered to her. Strange discordant noises that scratched at something in her mind. The world continued, the speech manifesting next to her. She blinked. Head turned. Dropped. Rose and tilted to the side. A hazy malformed figure stood before her. It had lips. Lips that moved. There was a rapid rhythm to them. A rhythm some distant part of her recognized. She focused on that. Everything within her pulled together until she could finally understand.

"Korsha."

That was her name. Her eyes rapidly. Her mind raced. The last several minutes flooded into her like sand being forced through a small funnel. Her body shook, drowning in its reliving.

"Master!"

Her lungs burned as the awful sound clawed at her throat and erupted out of her in a broken weary wale. She sucked in another breath. The sound spewed out of her once more, this with a higher pitch. She continued to vomit up the word over and over, her body vibrating. Her mind reeling. She emptied herself, her sadness, leaving it in the air and on the ground.

She didn’t know how long it lasted.

At some point ghostly figures in white appeared. Two of them placed her master upon a stretcher and lifted him into the air. She reached out trying to stop them but another appeared. A light flashed in her eyes. The light flashed again. Appearing and disappearing. Then it disappeared. Something bit her neck. Ice surged through her. Cold and demanding. It's shock was enough to break her free. To reform the world. Korsha sucked in a deep breath.

"You were in shock. Your mind should be clearing up anytime now."

Korsha grabbed hold of the medic, "My master, where is he?"

The medic turned from her and looked to his compatriots who were loading her master onto a small medical transport.

"He's received third degree burns over most of his body. Some reason we can't seem to stop the damage."

"It's magic. We were attacked by a mage."

The medic nodded, stood and shouted to the others, "Code Black."

The other medics cursed as one stopped what they were doing. They retrieved something from a container set on the transport while it continued to make its way back to the camp. The other medic returned and lifted Korsha up. They made their way back to the camp and by the time she arrived they already had her master loaded in the transport. The medic helped her up into the transport. The entire way back all she could do was stare at her master and think. Over time a mantra settled in her mind. Repeated over and over again as though in penance.

Master, I failed you again.