Saryn sensed the man before she saw him, a tingle of vomit crept up her throat as that thing walked into her presence. The audacity of Pandora, Saryn was the backstabber! She was not about to die to such a simple trap. When the speartip was offered backwards, it took all her willpower not to roll her eyes.

A pawswipe parried the dart, and she stepped onto the shaft, taking four steps forward to slash the man’s throat with her claws.

Orion moved when she did, short wind blades cleft the man’s arms and legs, hacking him into gibbets. Then it was done, the shade defeated without a sound.

Screaming from the gatehouse platform reached their ears, and a pang of terror stopped Saryn’s heart.

If they came for me, they’ll go for mom.

—

Nyota leaned over the battlements, checking left and right to make sure no creatures were flanking the column of men entering below. Not that she could do much to intervene, she’d healed dozens of wounded before seeking out the battlements, intending to keep a fraction of power for herself. But when she saw the dying men she’d thought of Jenkins fighting for Sintra, and of Eldred, mortal men who stood no chance of survival, but fought to give others life. So she had saved as many as she could. Then blasted away with every bolt she had. Until no magic remained, she was defenseless, unarmed. That was fine, Cedric could protect her for a spell, and Orion was with Saryn. She could rest here a moment then return home…

Ah, I should have paced myself, I’ll need a minute before I can fire another bolt. Thought Nyota, shifting her weight to rest against the battlements.

There were targets she could’ve pursued, but this was Saryn’s moment of victory. Her daughter’s time to seize glory. She lingered there, watching the ebb and flow of mortals and demons, til she noticed twelve figures standing in the distance, hidden by their proximity to one of the great blackwood trees. Their dark skin blending into the wood’s bark. A shudder ran down her spine, she’d seen those men ages ago, Greenwood’s so called ‘company of champions’, a band of men who’d visited Blackwood Castle for an exhibition. Then soundly trounced Blackwood’s mercenaries, proving to be more than a match for any of his knights.

Now the men were tainted creatures, unfit to be called human, potentially unfit to be called sentient. One look at their twisted forms warned of mutations, of Pandora’s experimentations on the human figure to produce a ‘perfected’ form.

“Cedric, do you see those men?” Asked Nyota, pointing towards the blackwood tree.

“Yes my Lady.”

“Kill them, do not allow them to leave!” Hissed Nyota, baring her fangs.

The mage raised his hand channeling mana through his body. “Ah, they’re out of range. I’ll need a moment, and I doubt they’ll give me more than one shot.” Said Cedric, turning his focus inward, concentrating everything on the spear of fire he was conjuring.

The cloaked assassin saw his moment. The target was drained of mana, depleted, impotent. Her protector was entirely focused on his spell. They were alone, exposed, and isolated from her support. Only Hamilton’s officers remained atop the gatehouse, and only the lower ranked ones who were stupified by a Lightning Lord’s power. But the assassin knew the truth. Lightning Lords were mortal magi, particularly susceptible to a knife in the back.

A ballista string twanged, and another of the assassin’s tainted kin exploded in fire. No matter, his brother had been tasked with ending the kitten’s life. They would strike in time with each other, in ten seconds. The assassin scanned the deck and caught sight of something useful. He reached into his cloak and produced a ream of letters, waving it in front of him as if it were a missive for the lords. He grinned beneath the cloak, gently bouncing the letters as they slapped away any suspicions. Of course a Lady would have couriers approach, that was only natural, and armed couriers in the height of a battle was logical enough. No matter that the man carried a spear instead of a sheathed dagger.

He strode forward, pace casual.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Neither Cedric nor Nyota saw him.

They hadn’t expected an intelligent enemy, they were still thinking this was the same war, where beasts were their greatest concern. The fools.

The assassin feigned a stumble, scattering the letters and taking two quick steps. To further sell the lie he gave the letters a slight toss so the sound of them falling would distract onlookers. Not that any of the barons or their attendants noticed, they were too busy pondering their defeat, or drooling over the platinum eclipsiarch.

Hand free of letters, the assassin grasped the spear in both hands, lunging forward to plunge the tip into the cat’s heart. Aiming to pierce her spine on the way to her heart. Such a blow would cripple her at best.

Spear met flesh–

–Piercing a human hand.

Sir William shouted in pain, shoving the spearpoint away from him. The edge and shaft –still traveling through his hand– deflected. What had been a clean spinal shot diverted. Steel encountered eclipsiarch ribs next, tearing through dress and skin to flay flesh from bone.

Nyota screamed in surprise, spinning as the spear opened her side. Her left hand caught the slick spearpoint, hanging for a second before she twisted. For Nyota Green was no longer a half starved slave, but an empowered eclipsiarch with Therun Perun Taloc’s full blessings. She snapped the spear, drawing the brass dagger of the bronze golem.

William wrestled the assassin, and a half dozen of Hamilton’s men joined the melee, punching, kicking and trying to pin the assailant. His cloak slipped off his face, revealing the worm eaten mask of a mutant. Half-alive and half-rotten the being fought with inhuman vigor. Every punch sent a man sprawling, his armor dented or shattered. William thrust a dagger into the assassin’s neck. It’s thin blade piercing to the hilt. But the demon showed no sign of slackening, nor did it bleed.

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“Bloodless demon! Call a mage!” Shouted William, still wrestling for control of the spear, his hand dripping blood.

“Damn demon,” Said Nyota, kicking the creature’s face and pinning it beneath her boot. “Rot in hell.” She hissed, bringing the brass dagger down and across its neck.

The enchanted blade severed everything, slashing through bone, sinew, spine, and throat to behead the demon. It carried on cutting, leaving a gash in the obsidian stone. Without a head, the demon crumbled into smoke, blown away by the passing breeze.

It was at this untimely moment that Cedric unleashed his fire spear. The projectile hurled across the sky, connecting with the largest member of the company of champions and exploding. He took a knee, gasping for air as he turned to look behind him.

“Ah, got one–” He began, face falling as he saw the demon crumble behind him. “Did I miss something?” Cedric asked.

“Check the gates! How did a demon get in? Go! Look at every man’s eye’s before you let them in!” Shouted Nyota, sending Hamilton’s men scattering.

Several idle Barons ran for the gate, seeking to distance themselves from the Lightning Lord’s near assassination. While Hamilton’s elite guards formed a cordon, ordering all others off the battlements as they surrounded their captain and the woman he risked himself to protect.

A tan missile flew through the air, Saryn landing inches away from Nyota.

“Mom!’

“I’m fine. It’s only a graze.” Said Nyota, taking a seat. “A heal or two and I'll be right as rain, call one. I’m just going to take a catnap.” Said Nyota, her eyes fluttering closed.

Saryn peeked at the wound. It truly was a graze, having skated off her ribs and missing her lungs. But it wasn’t the physical wound that alarmed Saryn, it was the black veins emanating from the gash.

“Poison!”

One glance at William’s direction confirmed this theory, as his hand was turning a sickly shade of dark blue.

“Call the head paladin! Order any and all healers to come here, NOW!” Screamed Cedric, his orders being taken up by a number of captains.

Men ran through the hospital wing, accosting any and all healers they found. But not a single one had any mana left to spare, nor had any of the paladins withheld mana from their earlier fights, giving their all to protect men who were already dead. The search ran late into the evening, with Duke Hamilton joining the search. His involvement spread word throughout the castle on merit of his station.

Nyota was moved to a private room. Paladins gathered into a quorum of twelve, chanting the words of purification in an attempt to combine their meager mana. Yet their holy power seemed to only stall the poison, with no reduction in blackened veins.

“Paladins, focus everything you have on healing the Lightning Lord.” Ordered Duke Hamilton, leaving the room once more to search for another mage, any mage who might possess enough mana to empower a healer.

But none remained. The day’s battle had been an unmitigated disaster, with every mage, paladin, scribe, and soldier giving their whole soul and body to the cause of survival. Nothing was left to give, and no mages to find.

—

Saryn saw all hope vanish when the paladin’s spell seemed to fail. It hadn’t cured Nyota, but it had bought them time. Men and women hurried about her, eyes hooded and wet with tears.

They’ve already given up on mom… Thought Saryn. Idiots. She is still alive!

There was one place they hadn’t searched, one answer so obvious it pained her to ponder the answer. Ami and Elise. Without a word Saryn sprinted through the castle, claws extending to give her greater purchase on the fickle carpets and slick obsidian. She’d never run so swiftly in her life, and arrived at the grand hall in the blink of an eye.

“AMI!” Shouted Saryn, hopping onto the table.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Elise, walking slowly across the hall, limping in the way only someone who was missing a knuckle on every toe could.

“Mom! She got poisoned! And stabbed! Who can use holy magic?” Yelled Saryn, eyes falling across the permanent portal. With that she could reach Greenwood and Sintra, but the only holy affinity mage she knew was Matimeo. The ancient bishop who was trapped within the confines of Mont St Michel. Soren could transfer mana, but had already exhausted himself and half the royal magicians in constructing the portal. Not to mention, that transferring mana required the sage to exert some of their own power, a feat that would be impossible at home or here. They’d overextended, and Nyota was paying the price.

“Mom, Nyota was poisoned? Saryn! Take us to her!” Snapped Elise, hobbling as quickly as her crippled limbs would allow.

Her slow motions wore on Saryn’s sanity, eating away at her patience, yet there was nothing she could do. If Saryn had been a grown woman, she would have hefted her half sister and ran. But she wasn’t. So she was forced to help the older woman walk, leading the way to her mother’s deathbed. All the while Saryn prayed, wishing the only mother she had ever loved would survive.

Long minutes passed before she found her way to Nyota’s door, with Elise shaking at the sight of Nyota’s prone form. Somehow sensing her sister’s heart Saryn cleared her throat.

“Everyone, get out.” She ordered, clearing the room of paladins and servants.

They’d moved Nyota into an inner bedchamber, one that was more easily isolated and protected. Cedric and Orion loitered near her bed, Cedric asleep. The fool had spent all his own mana fighting for Hamilton’s men, and not protecting Nyota. While Orion sat gnawing his lip. Elise ran to Nyota’s side, taking her hand in hers.

“I- I don’t remember the words!” cried Elise.

“I’ll call a paladin.” Said Saryn.

“Don’t bring those filthy fucking animals in here.” Spat Elise, her butchered ears quivering with rage.

The vitriol present in her words sent a shudder running up Saryn’s tail. There was violence in those words. But Saryn would not be denied.

“You’ll do as I say.” Hissed Saryn, leveraging every ounce of her bloodline. “Mom’s life is at stake, I don’t care how many people were hurt, or how many throats I have to cut, but mark my words, you will heal her. Do you understand me?” Said Saryn.

Her words were quiet, yet irrevocable, like distant thunder rumbling through Elise’s heart. The half sibling shuddered, feeling the compulsion of a stronger bloodline settle in her mind.

Without another word of complaint the head paladin was summoned and Nyota’s wound purified, black ichor dripped from her side with each casting, reopening the wound and expelling fresh blood. Six castings later there was no sign of foulness and Elise closed the wound with a healing chant.

“Good, Now heal the one who saved mom’s life.” Said Saryn, guiding Elise to William’s bedside.

“He’s a human! Saryn, don’t make me. HE is one of them! Look what he did to me! Your own flesh and blood! What he would do to you!” Shouted Elise, holding up her butchered hands, flicking her partial tail, and wiggling her ragged ears.

“Without William, mother would be dead. Look, someone already crippled his arm. See how he wears his scabbard on the left side? They cut off his sword arm. The man will have nothing if we don’t save him. And he saved mom. Kept her from being run through. Elise, you must find it within yourself to heal this man. He is why mother will wake up.”

Elise would never forget that moment, nor how much she hated Saryn for making her heal the knight.