Kneeling on the dirt-stained floor of the Marauder Prince’s tent, Kaira helped Bree gently ease the captive raithe priestess into a sitting position. All around them, the last stragglers of resistance from the tent’s guards were being snuffed out by the unwavering determination of her own group.

“We're adventurers from Brightburn,” Kaira stated, forcing compassion into her voice as she offered a comforting smile to the woman. “We're going to get you to safety. Can you walk?”

At Kaira's words, a glimmer of relief seemed to pass over the raithe woman's bruised and weary features. “Has the storm come to save me?” she asked, a trace of hope bleeding into her weakened tone.

She means Iris.

Kaira's smile widened in reassurance. “She's out there, right now, taking on the Marauder Prince,” she confirmed, extending her hand to the raithe. “Come on, we need to get you out of here.”

Taking her first shaky steps, Bree moved to put her arm around the woman and assisted the priestess in walking from the tent. Though her condition was grave, she was no longer in immediate danger, thanks in no small part to the tender assistance of the sun elf. The wounded priestess leaned heavily on the bard, but her eyes were filled with a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear.

Surveying the campsite, Kaira could see the harpies completing their devastating assault.

It was a victory, though not without its share of sacrifice.

From somewhere in the distance, the distinctive sizzling crackle of Iris's lightning magic reached her ears, sending a ripple of concern through her heart.

She turned to Mocha, Iris's loyal warhorse and friend who she had rode through the camp like a true cavalrywoman.

The intelligent creature regarded her with sharp, understanding eyes.

“She might need you,” Kaira told the horse with the barest hint of concern lacing her voice.

Right now, Kaira would only get in the way of Iris’s fierce battle.

I don’t want to distract her. It could get her killed.

The mare nodded in response, her breath puffing out in the chill air of the summer night.

As the chaos of battle subsided around them, all Kaira could think of was the storm itself that was her paramour.

Her heart.

✦ ✦ ✦

A blaze of adrenaline had swept through her veins as Iris had dodged, countered, and attacked the Marauder Prince for what felt like an eternity.

Their duel was a deadly dance, moving through the chaos of the camp like a tempest, leaving behind trails of destruction.

For all his earlier aggressiveness, the Marauder Prince was retreating now, with Iris in hot pursuit.

She laughed, breathless. “I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you to last this long. I suppose it's something to be proud of, given your obvious... deficiencies.”

His cold eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he shot back, “It's clear you have a fascination with it. Unfortunately, your end is near.”

“Oh, the only thing I’m fascinated by is all the coin I get for removing your head,” Iris retorted, her grin filled with stormy defiance.

They continued to trade spells and barbs, weariness crept into their movements as they ran through the devastated camp.

A shrill cry sounded above them as the Harpy queen appeared in all her naked, feathered glory as she swooped down, launching a massive stone at the Marauder Prince. He barely managed to evade, cursing, and retaliated with a volley of icicles.

The Harpy queen veered away, her feathers glinting in the firelight as the Marauder Prince turned his icy barrage on Iris, and a veritable hailstorm was launched at her.

She rolled out of the way, her eyes narrowing as she returned to her feet and saw as he pulled out a small handheld device with a glowing core.

“Thought you could manipulate me with your childish insults? You followed my lead without question. I wonder, who manipulated whom? Your head will make a fine trophy.”

He pressed a button on the device and Iris's world erupted into flames.

A series of colorful explosions blasted through the camp, flinging Iris to the ground. Fire roared around her, consuming tents and wooden structures with voracious hunger.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Her head spun, and she shook it as she stumbled back to her feet.

What the fuck?

Through the fiery chaos, she spotted the Marauder Prince mounting a horse, preparing to flee.

“Mocha!” Iris' voice echoed out, amplified with the raw power of her mana. It was more than just a call; it was a plea, a beacon of desperation that she hoped would thread through their bond.

In response, a furious, determined neigh sliced through the cacophony of the battlefield.

The ground reverberated beneath her, rhythmic thumps growing louder and fiercer as they approached. It sounded like a stampede, a freight train bearing down with unstoppable force, but Iris knew better.

It was Mocha, her trusty steed, her partner in countless battles, racing through the burning chaos to her aid.

Then, through the screen of flame and smoke, Mocha burst forth.

Her blonde mane, the foam of her latte, glowed against the backdrop of the inferno, eyes ablaze with a fiery spirit that mirrored Iris's.

With the grace of a trained warhorse, Mocha skidded to a halt near Iris, the ground smoldering under her powerful hooves.

In a swift, practiced motion, Iris vaulted onto Mocha's saddle, her eyes locked on the retreating form of the Marauder Prince. Even in the chaos, Iris could hear Mocha's confusion and worry as she neighed. 'Iris! What happened?'

“No time! We have to catch him!” Iris shouted back, adrenaline fueling her voice. She leaned forward in the saddle, urging Mocha into a gallop.

Together, they raced into the forest, their path illuminated by the lurid glow of the burning camp behind them.

As Iris cast one last glance over her shoulder, she saw her party rushing to the edge of the camp amidst the chaos, ready to finish what they started. But the Marauder Prince was hers, and she wouldn't rest until she got him.

With Mocha's powerful strides carrying them forward, they disappeared into the forest, leaving behind the dying flames and echoes of the battlefield.

Mocha tore through the underbrush with ability-fueled speed, as they sped after their quarry. The rhythmic pound of hooves against earth became the drumbeat of their quest.

The quest was almost over.

They had reached the final boss.

A sobering thought hit her like a sledgehammer.

I’m never going home, am I?

This is it.

This is my life.

Iris squinted against the wind on the retreating figure of the Marauder Prince. She wasn’t brought to Eona for a purpose.

She was no hero.

She was a broken woman who had finally found hope, and it all started with… ending a man’s life. Such a far cry from the college student who had no idea how to fight when she arrived.

What some fucked up shit.

All she had to do was finish this quest and she could hopefully have a normal life, she could finally rest and maybe work on herself.

And Kaira.

Let the other adventurers go off and take the torch for a while while I work on the Guild.

She just needed to catch the fleeing man ahead of her.

Iris urged Mocha faster.

They inched closer until she could make out the frantic gaze of the Marauder Prince looking back at them.

She extended her hand, her fingertips sparking with raw energy, and launched a [Spark] straight at him.

The Marauder Prince ducked just in time, a snarl of a curse escaping his lips. He retaliated with a salvo of icicles, each one dangerously sharp and glittering in the dim forest light.

But Mocha was no ordinary horse.

With an agility that belied her size, Mocha wove a path around the icicles, a few of them diverting their trajectory as they were repelled by an unseen ability.

Ahead of them, the prince’s horse burst through a dense brush, and Mocha followed suit. As they emerged from the foliage, Mocha skidded to a halt, as she saw the ground falling away into a gaping ravine in the distance. The Marauder Prince pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face Iris, a cold scowl marring his face.

Iris met his gaze evenly. “If you surrender now, I’ll swear to bring you back to Brightburn alive.”

His lips curled in contempt. “And face a slow death there? I don’t think so. All I need to do is to kill you here and now. You’re alone.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips. “You’re right. Let’s finish it here then, no more running. All you have to do is kill me. It's not like I have a squadron of harpies to back me up here.”

The sarcastic remark hung in the air between them, until a sudden, eerie chittering from the surrounding woods sent shivers down her spine.

She froze.

I know that sound.

The prince's mocking expression faltered.

And then, the forest came alive.

The noise multiplied, the surrounding woods filling with a terrifying chorus.

Her [Danger Sense] activated with the intensity of an air raid siren, blaring a warning that made her blood run cold.

A terrifying realization dawned upon them both.

As she glanced around, she saw countless pairs of eyes gleaming in the undergrowth, their red glow piercing the darkness.

“Oh, no,” the prince muttered under his breath. He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes wide and fixed on the encroaching danger. The Marauder Prince’s confident facade crumbled, replaced with a primal fear that mirrored Iris’s own.

It was a fear that Iris understood all too well.

Drawing mana into herself, she prepared for what was to come. Beneath her, Mocha shifted restlessly, sensing the impending danger.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadowy underbrush.

A hare.

And one that was the size of a labrador, its fur matted and beady eyes glowing with an ominous light as it sniffed the air before locking onto Iris.

Her breath hitched in her throat as the creature hissed, baring a maw of four mandibles that bloomed like a grotesque, flesh-eating flower.

A murder hare.

Then, one by one, more of the creatures started to emerge from the brush.

All thoughts of her quest disappeared, dwarfed by the immediate, horrifying reality.

They were now caught in the eye of a tempest of living nightmares, their crimson gaze glowing with an insatiable hunger.

And one that wouldn’t stop until they got their fill.