They made their way down the World Tree surrounded by guards—more than Dimple had ever seen in any one place outside the pavilion at meal times. Jahdiel led them now, walking ahead of the group with an amber spear in hand, nodding back at them every other level and commanding some of the blue-clad protectors to stay and patrol while the rest continued their descent.

Alexander watched the proceedings with some distaste, looming over the rest save the odd sasquatch or two with thick arms crossed. "You should have left more with the Scouts. What use is all this splitting up? The enemy is clear and all together."

The enemy. That's what they were called now, and without any bit of effort.

His uncle had excitedly told Dimple what the High Council was plotting as they journeyed down, hand tight with energy on Bessie's saddle. The whole thing had seemed fantastical, but the more Alexander went into detail—and the more none of the guards had shown any surprise at the minotaur's explanation—the more Dimple had found himself believing it.

He hadn't responded—couldn't respond, really, since it all sounded so... so big. And so horrifying.

"My amber is stronger than steel," Jahdiel said calmly. "Those humans won't leave that room unless we let them. No, if there's danger, it'll come from outside. Or from any traitors in our midst."

Alexander grunted, but he'd never been one to fight over specifics. "Are the Changelings on their way?"

"Of course. Though I doubt we'll need them."

Eventually, they came down into the entrance chamber. So late in the night, it was empty save for their own presence, and their footsteps echoed hollowly across the shaded space. Halcyon's stem glowed green at the center of the room, a solitary pillar of light surrounded by firefly constellations.

Bessie made her way to it, and Dimple didn't bother stopping her. He sat back, letting go of her reins, feeling woozy as the giant snail drew up on the thick stem and started suckling from its dripping nectar.

Silently—at least, as silently as his frame allowed—Alexander walked over and rested a meaty hand on Dimple's knee.

"You look sick, Joseph," the minotaur said. Tall as he was, he could comfortably lean close to his nephew without having to look up even as that nephew rode atop a high saddle. "You said that human didn't hurt you. Do you think you stayed too long out in the rain?"

Dimple shook his head. It really did feel like he was about to throw up. "It's just..." His throat tasted horrible. "Uncle Alex, jeez. You and the Council are killing so many..."

At this, Alexander's worry flashed into temporary anger, eyes widening for a brief moment before settling into a dampened glower. "You say that even after what they did to us. To your parents."

"My parents wouldn't want this," Dimple said, head shaking again. "It's too much."

"It might not be enough!" Alexander said loudly. He looked around then, a few glances their way but more confusion than anything else, and turning back to his nephew, he lowered his voice to an insistent whisper. "Can you really feel no anger? No righteous fury? Can you live having done nothing to seek justice?"

"You already killed the one who killed them..."

"The life of one murderer for the lives of two innocents?" Alexander leaned closer, almost whispering into Dimple's ear. "Hundreds of innocents?"

Dimple was silent, and after a few seconds without a response Alexander felt his anger cool again. Now, suddenly tired, he could only pull back and look at the smaller minotaur, the thin frame, the low shoulders, the trembling lip. Pity filled him then.

"You are just like him," he said, finally. "Just like Bell, you have no warrior's heart." Dimple looked up, eyes flashing hurt, but Alexander patted his knee again, soft as he could. "No, no. Don't deny it, and don't feel ashamed of it. It took me long enough to understand with him, and I won't give you the same treatment. Not everyone should have to fight."

Dimple's brow furrowed, and Alexander nodded his head at Halcyon's stem, where Bessie still licked along its surface.

"Fifty years ago," Alexander said, "Harmony planted this flower here and founded the ELD with the promise that the world would be healthy and whole once more. They thought like you then, and so did I when I first came here. We all did." He sighed, voice filled with years. "The idea was that we could save humans from themselves. Their evil came from ignorance, not malice. We thought that, with enough honest work, perhaps we could curb their destruction."

Alexander chuckled, eyes closed. "But we were wrong, Joseph. As long as the humans can destroy us, they will. The only path forward is to attack first, and hurt them so deeply that they won't be able to retaliate. When a warrior fights, he must defeat his enemy. That's a lesson I learned long ago, but one I never understood until... until it was too late."

It sounded simple enough, but Dimple remembered how Red had stood before him against Khurang, and then again against Jahdiel. He remembered being called the boy's friend. "The humans don't have to be our enemies," he whispered.

"Of course they do," Alexander said, exasperated. "And we will treat them as such." He looked at the younger minotaur, an edge of incomprehension in his gaze, but some kindliness as well. "It's alright if you have no heart for it, Joseph. Warriors like me exist so innocents like you may live without spilling blood. I am willing to fight for both our sakes. Just..." He looked around again, voice lowering. "Just don't share your thoughts, nephew. In fact, it might be best if you went to your quarters for the night. Sleep through the trouble. It'll all be over come morning."

After a moment of thought, Dimple nodded, and then he felt his body slacken. The long day finally fell on him, and he felt all the hunger and exhaustion that came after several hours' worth of constant adrenaline.

But then came some murmuring across the room, rising louder with each sentence. Alexander and Dimple looked over, seeing one of the guards crouched with hands planted on the floor while talking to another.

Jahdiel noticed too, breaking off from a group he'd been ordering around and marching toward the noise. "What's the news?" he asked tersely. "Does the director want something?"

"Th-They..." the guard on the floor cleared his throat. "They've escaped."

"They?"

"The humans! The humans broke out and are on their way down!"

All the guards in the room perked up, and Jahdiel cursed before rounding them all up and telling them who should do what.

Alexander watched the proceedings grimly, stepping away from his nephew with a derisive snort. "Stronger than steel, he says." Then, looking at Dimple, he raised his voice. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? To your quarters, now!"

The volume shocked Dimple, but he nodded again and pulled on Bessie's reins. The giant snail mewed a bit, complaining, but a few more pulls finally drew her away from her meal, and she got moving.

Alexander watched his nephew leave, the snail crawling out through the entrance and towards the stables in a forced hurry. "Time for the warriors to fight," he muttered to himself. With one last look at Halcyon, he straightened his shoulders and went over to the marshaling guards. Though Dimple couldn't see it yet, this was for him, too.

- - - — MKII — - - -

It didn't take long for Red to meet resistance, especially when he came back inside from the outer platform. Surprised resistance at first—he'd been running up a rather steep indoor hall and turned a corner right into a few extremely unfortunate guards making their rounds. A couple of passing punches had been enough to get them out of his way without even slowing down, leaving them unconscious on the floor as he climbed.

But it seemed like they'd alerted the rest of the security force somehow because Red soon after came upon a full-fledged company of guards, a dozen of them lined up and blocking the wide hall, wooden spears pointed right at him. Most were animal people to some degree or other, featuring tails, fur-covered skin, and snouts rather than regular noses. There were a couple of more human-looking ones too, their normalcy interrupted either by size or the pointyness of their ears.

They looked dead-serious as Red closed in on them, ready to run him through, and a gremlin-looking guy behind the rest shouted in a booming voice, "Hold the line, you lot! Hold the line!"

Didn't even try telling Red to stop. That made the boy smile as he sprinted directly toward them. Either they'd gotten the memo on him specifically, or they'd dropped all pretenses regarding their human prisoners. It didn't really matter; all it meant was that Red could expect them to at least try to put up a fight.

As he neared, some of the spearbearers frowned at his lack of hesitation, feet sliding imperceptibly back.

"Hold there!" The gremlin barked out again, and then Red reached their lines, fists curled, jumping up before any of them could react.

He dived over the spears, twisting in the air and swinging his punches around. His knuckles met with spear shafts, snapping them immediately, then with jaws, shoulders, ribs, all which snapped just as quickly. Those who suffered a blow fell to the ground, holding their injuries and groaning in pain, while those still left unscathed surrounded Red, spears pointed at him in shaky grips.

Red raised a brow, reaching over and, using only a pinch, breaking off one of the spear tips like a piece of chocolate. "I get you guys're going for the whole 'woodland warrior' thing, but this is just sad."

The spearman whose weapon he'd broken stepped back, glancing around at the others. "Um..."

Tossing the broken top aside, Red grinned. "Chill out, man. I'll try not to hurt you too bad."

- - - — MKII — - - -

Down several levels of the World Tree, another crowd of guards had marshaled against the escaping Scouts. They'd known it wouldn't be easy—all the humans were licensed Rangers, after all, and though most were only One-Stars, chances were at least a few of them knew some Trick or another. Still, they only had to hold the Scouts back long enough for the ones below to prepare a proper defense.

The Scouts ran in a mass group, all of them dripping wet. They hadn't encountered anyone outside on the platform, but as they came closer to the base of the Tree they eventually had to come back into the tunnels. One way in and one way out, unfortunately, and that was through the entrance chamber.

Daphne had fallen back and clapped her hands as soon as they'd stepped inside, though nothing had happened as a result. Still, she ran with her hands still clasped together, concentrating, and it was obvious she had something planned, so Malcolm tried to focus on whatever they found ahead.

Speaking of, Malcolm now saw a line of blue-clad spearbearers block their path through the wide hallway, wooden weapons polished to a gleam apparent even in the low firefly light. Clicking his tongue, the spectacled boy breathed in and clapped his hands, intending to turn the weapons to cinder, but Clover stopped him with a clasp on his shoulder.

"No!" she hissed. "We're not trying to kill them!"

They seem willing enough to kill us, Malcolm almost said, but on second thought he didn't exactly have the space to throw fireballs around without fear of hitting someone on their own side anyway. Grimacing, he put his hands down, feeling his Spirit simmer with them.

"I've got it!" One of the Scouts said—Sam, he'd called himself.

The redhead ran out in front of the rest, leaped up, and after clapping his hands, slammed them down on the ground. The floor rippled like Jell-O, stretching into elastic waves that grew in volume the further they went. The ripples reached the spearbearers, upending their balance and crumbling their formation. Some merely wobbled on pawed feet and hooves, but most fell over with gasping surprise.

Now Clover took her turn. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a handful of seeds. "I'll hold them down!" she said, tossing them forward and clapping her hands.

The seeds sprouted in midair, forming into a mess of roots and vines that fell over the guards, tightening around their prone bodies and planting themselves on the ground with the soft creak of breaking wood. Soon enough most of the guards found themselves completely trapped in organic nets, some tied up together, others held down by only a leg or an arm, and all along the vines kept growing and even sprouting boughs of flowers.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Just in time, as this is when the Scouts finally rammed right into them, the ones at the front punching and kicking their way through, the ones at the back stampeding over the carved path. Only a couple of guards were left standing in their wake; not enough to stop them even if they had the ability.

"Good thinking!" Malcolm said, getting a nod from Clover. They ran around a corner and started down an incline, passing by bare wooden walls only rarely interrupted by open doorways to empty and dark rooms, and Malcolm looked at Sam now. "Hey, you too! I've never seen a Trick like that before."

"Pretty nice, huh?" Sam said, sheepish. "It's not that strong, but it sure comes in handy!"

Clover slowed on her jog, falling back alongside her mother. "How's it going?" she asked, eyes forward and waiting for the next round of guards.

Daphne ran with her hands clasped before her, beads of sweat running down her skin. "It's taking longer than it should," she said, breathless. "They're too excited to listen, and their minds are so flighty already... Give me a bit longer."

Movement ahead, and suddenly the Scouts came to a dead stop. Clover almost ran into one, hands coming up to break her run on their back. Looking over the heads of her comrades, she saw another group of guards marshaling before them, and beyond that she saw a soft yet large green glow—the tell-tale light of Halcyon and, in turn, a tell-tale sign of the entrance chamber.

So close, Clover thought. We're so close! But...

But the opposition was no mere line of spearbearers. There were several dozen of those, all formed up in rows, but before them stood another line of beastmen guards, all donning blue vests rather than the togas worn by the others.

The Scouts knew them at once and Malcolm heard his allies curse and groan beside him.

"What are they?" he asked. "Some kind of special forces?"

"Changelings," Sam muttered. "They're the heavy hitters around here. Top of the line security."

That might explain the meager resistance on their way down. Malcolm could see the plan now; the ELD had sent a few guards up to craft an illusion of weakness while gathering the bulk of their forces in the one place they knew the Scouts would have to go through. Not a particularly complex plan, but it wasn't like it needed to be. Against a force like this—hungry, tired, desperate, and relatively few in numbers—the guards could safely depend on pure, blunt force.

The Scouts and the guards stared each other down, the first group nervous but resolved, the second grim and confident, soldiers buoyed by the knowledge of possessing better equipment. With a click of their heels, the guards then turned and stepped aside into two columns, creating an open path. Walking through it came two figures which elicited another bout of groans.

On the right was Jahdiel, stepping forth primly on light feet, an amber spear held against his back. On the left was Alexander, stomping through and huffing with each clop. The two stopped in front of the Changelings, who now took the opportunity to all clap their hands simultaneously.

They transformed. Some—part wolf or lion—grew their snouts and teeth, shoulders ballooning up into powerful hunches, claws unsheathing like swords out of each pawed finger. Others—part hawk or eagle—suddenly grew full wings from their backs with puffs of feathers, talons carving into the wooden floor with grating creaks, eyes shrinking under heavy brows. All of them seemed to generate muscle, arms and legs and chests growing twice their original size until all eight stood like hulking monsters before the Scouts, grinning savagely and glaring with enthused gazes.

Malcolm felt his head pound, skin shivering under their bloodcurdling presence, a mask of cold severity setting heavy on his face. He felt similar reactions around him, some Scouts stepping back, turning in an instinctive attempt to run before realizing the circumstances wouldn't allow it. Sam had been expecting it, but even he couldn't help grasping at air, hands clammy.

"As you can see," Jahdiel said, lips curled mutely, "you are all outnumbered and outclassed. I would advise you all surrender before we're all forced to do something I'm sure we'd all... regret."

Sure sounded like he'd regret it. The other guards all looked rather earnest too, fidgeting in place, and the Changelings in particular licked their lips, and slid their claws against one another with sharpening rings.

In the face of this bloodthirsty crowd, Clover stepped forward. "It's not too late to stop what you're doing. At least some of you have to see how crazy it is! Don't you care about the millions who could die?"

"That's a funny thing to hear from a human," Jahdiel said, and despite his words, the brief humor he'd held sapped away. "How many millions of Greenkin have your kind killed just these last ten years alone? Could you even guess?"

"We weren't the ones to do that!" one of the Scouts said.

"You weren't, which is why we've treated you Scouts well enough. So far, at least. That'll change if you keep on like this."

Here, Clover found something like hope. "If you're being honest, you have to see how your plan only hurts people as innocent as us! The average person doesn't even know about Greenkin!"

"And that makes it even more impossible for them to fix the world they've helped create."

"This is pointless," Alexander grumbled. "Use your Art already, Jahdiel. Our goal here is to stop them, not to talk on and on."

Jahdiel sighed and shook his head, planting his spear on the floor. It held there, embedded on the wooden surface while the elf casually put his hands together. The Scouts tensed, but he didn't do anything yet beyond passing his eyes over each one of them. "Parasites are parasites whether they know it or not," he said. "Any mercy we've shown you so far was given to you as members of the ELD, but no one here has any qualms about you as humans. If it were up to me, I'd kill every last one of you. As things stand, those millions you talk about are all I'll get, so I'll just have to enjoy it as much as I can!"

Shouting those last words, Jahdiel knelt and slapped both hands on the ground. In a second, orange sap rose from the floor, seeping through the wood grain and massing into a thick, sticky, and giant paste flowing like a wave at the Scouts.

Now Malcolm ran ahead, pushing Clover aside and clapping his own hands. Seeing him breathe in one sharp lungful, the girl threw her hands behind her, shouting at the others. "Stay back!"

And good thing she did, because when Malcolm let the fire rip it flew from his mouth in a blooming stream, thin at his lips and expanding as it went until it took up practically the whole wide hallway. The flames hit the flowing sap and pushed against it with a loud hiss of smoke, dissolving it on contact and heating the rest to a bubbling pitch.

Jahdiel and the guards behind him covered their wide eyes against the sudden onslaught of heat and sparks. "Fire?!" the elf said, voice shaky.

"Fire!" Alexander roared, face contorting into a glare of pure hatred. "He's mine!"

Jahdiel saw the Councilman run right toward the flames, and after another trembling moment, he reached over to pull his spear free. "Help the Councilman!" he shouted, looking back at the other guards. "Attack! Attack!"

The guards roared, some raising their spears in the air, and broke into a run. Watching them come, and watching Malcolm's fire breath die out, the Scouts couldn't act with the same courage.

That was, until Daphne spoke up. "We can do it!" the woman said, and finally, she pulled her hands apart and raised them in the air. "Don't you all forget that I'm a Councilmember too!"

Her hands swung down, palms pointing at the coming guards, and at the same time a loud, incessant buzz filled the air. The mass of fireflies hanging close to the ceiling—so constant and easily forgotten—now came together in a large swarm, thousands of little stars swirling in a microgalaxy and suddenly bearing down on the blue-clad spearbearers.

Their advance stumbled, guards coughing and hacking at the air, waving their arms wildly in the air as the glowing insects covered their skin and fur, irritated their eyes, crawled into their noses.

"Charge!" Clover said, running at the guards before the energy of the moment could abandon them. With their own roars, the other Scouts followed and the two little armies clashed in an incalculable concert of chaos, smoke and booming and cries filling the hallway.

Watching it, one of the guards broke off, clapping his hands and touching the floor

"A-Squad to B-Squad," he said, voice shaky as he watched several of his fellows get tossed up into the air along with a pair of Scouts. "I repeat, A-Squad to B-Squad, we've made contact with the humans. We... we might need reinforcements. B-Squad, do you hear me?"

Words came into his head, as if he were thinking to himself with a different voice. We hear you, A-Squad, it said, just as shaky as him. We hear you, but we're dealing with our own problems up here!

- - - — MKII — - - -

Red did quick work of his previous encounter and managed to climb up a few more levels before his path was blocked once more, now by several dozen guards.

The spearbearers were still there, Red supposed as a sort of infantry, but behind them he could see a group of archers already notching their arrows, and in front of them he saw a pair of guards dressed rather differently than the rest. Where the others wore a sort of blue toga over beige pants, these two had traded the togas out for vests, leaving their chests bare. Both were beastmen, though one more dog-like and the other more cat-like.

Clearly, standing as proud as they were, they thought they were pretty tough. Well, they could try all they wanted, but Red wasn't slowing down for anybody. He ran right towards them even as they both clapped their hands and grew twice their respective sizes in an expanding transformation.

The dogman's snout lengthened, sharp teeth now peeking out his maw, chest bulged with excess power, an honest-to-goodness werewolf save the floppy ears. The catman also bulged with newfound strength, taking on an almost tiger-like appearance with dark stripes growing all along his body.

Giants that they now were, the two settled into matching stances, one clawed hand up over their forehead and the other held out at the approaching Red, a wall of furry muscle and gnarly edges. They stood large over the others, at least twice the body mass of any of them.

Red raised his fists, running right toward them, but before he could make sense of the two, another voice called from behind the crowd of guards.

"Fire!"

At this, the archers let loose their arrows. It was a cramped enough space for it, so Red didn't have anywhere to dodge, and it wasn't like he had much experience getting shot at by a bunch of people anyway.

Something to work on in the future. For now, he just put his head down, raised both arms before it, and ran right into the volley. Some arrows glanced right off him, leaving little nicks, but a few stabbed right into his forearms. Red bit down a gasp and used that pain to power the punch he threw at the dogman, now close enough to attack.

The dogman met the fist with his palm, meaning to catch the blow. Then his hand flew back from the recoil, taking the rest of him into the air, twisting, and landing right into a group of spear-bearers who had to hurriedly point their weapons away from their suddenly approaching ally.

Alright, so they were big but still fairly manageable from what Red could tell. Level two goons.

Red looked at the catman now, grinning. "Here, kitty kitty..."

Hesitant, the catman tried his hand at a claw swipe. The boy ducked under it, reached up to grab the extended arm—a thick mass of brown fur—and used it to toss the Changeling over his shoulder at the dogman he'd thrown before. "Fetch!" he shouted, seeing the one crash into the other and roll into a joint heap.

Now he some room to do something about these arrows. He looked at the few that had stuck into his arms and, grimacing, plucked them out. They hadn't dug in too much, and though the wounds stung, they didn't seem too serious. Just two armfuls of spotted red to go along with the rest of his smeared and weary-looking self.

Didn't mean he wouldn't make them pay for it, though. Red dived right into the mass of guards, dodging or straightforwardly tanking hits, taking one out with each swing of his fists. The dogman and catman rose again, a bit dizzy but otherwise fine, and worked with the rest to put the Ranger down.

Spear thrusts were joined by claw swipes and muzzle lunges, teeth clamping down on bare air as Red stepped out of their way. He threw a few more punches, but all he could manage to hit were a few spearbearers—the Changelings knew enough now to keep their distance on the defense, surrounding him and closing in.

"So you guys do have a brain," Red muttered, smile worming into his lips.

His eyes darted over the couple of dozen opponents in his path, looking for some kind of opening. And when the dogman pounced on Red again, mouth open wide, the boy thought of a pretty stupid idea. A bit too stupid even for him, but, well... screw it.

Red let the Changeling bite into his shoulder, teeth digging right through his skin and grinding into his bones. It hurt—damn did it hurt—and Red fought back a shout of agony before reaching up to grab the dogman right by the back of the neck, hand clamping on the living pelt with an iron grip.

At this, the dogman's eyes widened, and he glanced at Red's smiling eyes, his mouth biting deeply into the boy's shoulder.

"Bad dog!" Red said, and without any more fanfare he raised his other hand, curled it into a fist, and hammered down on the dogman's waiting face.

Something crumpled, and the dogman's snout curved up against the rest of his head like an open can. He let go of Red's shoulder—or rather, his mouth opened on its own, lacking as it now was in the strength it took to retain its bite—and tried to get away.

"Stay!" Red said, still holding onto the back of the Changeling's neck as the latter desperately and uselessly pulled at the grip. The boy glanced over and saw that the catman was just about to claw his back open, so with a quick twirl he spun the dogman around and rammed one Changeling as hard as he could into the other.

The catman fell, rattled, and Red looked around at the spearbearers as they surrounded him, tips jutting forward with nervous thrusts. Well, they were officially not the only ones with a weapon anymore.

Punching the dogman again for good measure, Red spun again and now used him as a bat against the other guards. The Changeling's massive bulk slammed into the shocked spearbearers, breaking their formation, and it wasn't an opportunity Red would let pass him by. With another spin, he tossed the thoroughly unconscious dogman into another set of guards, and the poor Greenkin dropped their spears to not hurt one of theirs on the landing, letting the Changeling fall atop them.

Watching the force crumble, Red gave them a salute. "See ya, gents." Then without further ado he ran for it. These guys were fun enough, but he didn't want to waste more time fighting a bunch of pushovers.

Some of the guards tried to follow while the rest waited on their wounded, but Red lost them after turning a few corners. He ran up and up, feeling the sting of his shoulder and stretching it every once in a while to make sure it would work when he needed it to.

He wasn't going into this at a hundred percent, but it wasn't anything to worry over. As long as his arm was still attached, he could punch just fine.

A few more levels and Red found himself outside again, thunder rumbling across the sky and rain pounding on his bare torso as he ran up the platform. It felt good and cool on his skin, and Red considered the benefits of just standing there and allowing it to wash some of the blood and grime off, but shortly after he found that it started to patter less and less.

Looking up, he saw a canopy of leaves overhead, the top of the tree thick enough to shield against most of the rainfall. He could feel how close he was, and after a few more minutes of walking his intuition was proven right. The boy soon came upon a sort of wide path of wooden planks, one leading directly to a large hut at its end, before which stood a small group of guards.

He saw them before they saw him, but Red wasn't trying to hide, so it wasn't long before the guards turned around at the noise. They immediately raised their spears, trying to look threatening, but Red wasn't looking at them when they did. He didn't even bother with the four-armed demon standing slightly apart and staring at him with bemused curiosity. Instead, Red looked straight at the statuesque figure standing behind them.

It only took a moment for their yellow eyes to gleam in recognition, and when they did Harmony narrowed on him as much as he had on them. "You..."

Red grinned. "Me."

Even with the far-off thunder and the drone of rain, there was nothing quite as satisfying to start as unfinished business.