When Vayra returned to the spirit well, she found the nymphs standing guard around it. Each one faced a different direction, looking off into a different slice of the flower forest.

They were probably waiting for her—expecting her, even—but she had kept her spirit veiled as she approached. She’d fight them on her own terms. She had everything she needed. The ambient mana in the air had refuelled her, and she thought she understood her full-body Bracing technique.

But she stopped herself from crashing into the clearing immediately.

Caution would help, but no matter what, she was still outgunned. What would she do, then?

She stepped away from the edge of the clearing, letting the flower petal that she’d pulled down earlier fall back into place.

‘Vayra, what’s wrong?’ Phasoné asked, still inside Vayra’s head. They had decided earlier that the scythe in Vayra’s hands would be more effective. They could hit harder for longer, they could throw it, and Vayra wouldn’t need to split any of her mana between them.

“There are three First Lieutenants,” she whispered, keeping her breaths short and contained. “They add up to more, surely, but even if they don’t…”

‘There could be a hundred of them, but you’re still the Mediator.’

“How does that help? My Mediator Form isn’t coming back, and we don’t exactly have the best track record of punching up. Our victories were because we had help from others. Hammontor, helping or not, caused Myrrir problems. Nathariel? Saved me. Larra? Well, I just went running away…”

‘Vayra,’ Phasoné whispered. ‘You’ve been very weak for a very long time.’

“That’s not very encouraging.’

‘But it is something to think about. From ever since you were a child, the other Discarded could hit harder or climb faster. The Helpers? Don’t even think about fighting one of them, ‘cause they’ve actually eaten a regular meal, and they’re big and tall.’

“I hoped magic would fix that.”

‘But you’re not the little girl I first met in Tavelle,’ Phasoné continued. ‘You’ve grown stronger than you ever should have by now, and the only reason you can’t see that is because you’re surrounded by people who are more powerful than you. But for one moment, just think. Look back at how far you’ve come.’

“But—”

‘Stop it. You have a job to do, and you can do it. You’re stronger than you know.’

Vayra pulled in one last breath through clenched teeth, then looked over her shoulder. There was no going back now. She flicked her hand down. “Scythe?” She tried to put on a brave face. “We have some plants to chop up.”

Vayra tried to turn a flip in her mind.

I advance. I get stronger. I have to.

It was probably what every God-heir told themselves, and every Mediator before her.

‘Correct,’ Phasoné said. ‘You win because you make yourself win. We don’t know your limits yet, but I bet they’re higher than this.’

The scythe started to form. As tendrils of starlight poured out of her scarf and whirled around her hand, she ran through the wall of petals around the spirit well, pushing the plants aside.

The three nymphs turned to face her immediately, snarling and screeching.

“Yeah, time for round two.” Vayra took a two-handed grip on the fully-formed scythe, and transitioned into a fighting stance.

She slid her foot back in an arc, recalling her combat training. When the first nymph reached her, body encased in a glowing blue aura, Vayra twirled the scythe. She the nymph under the chin with the haft. Her vision blurred, and everything outside moved fast. Inside her mind, everything moved slowly.

The other two nymphs closed in from the sides, moving to flank her.

It was time to use the Astral Shroud.

She started Bracing her hands—both arms—and let the power seep up her arms like a burning shawl was wrapping around her.

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This was the full-body Bracing technique she had developed.

Like she was smashing a dam in a river, she opened up her core and let mana spill out. Arcara plowed through her channels, pushed by the streams of mana, and the Shroud encompassed her entire body. Her veins lit up white, and an aura of white fire burst out around her.

She took a single step, and it carried her thrice as far. She dove between two of the nymphs, then slashed back with her scythe, cleaving one of their legs off.

The nymphs whirled around and attacked, but they all approached from the same direction, now. Vayra dodged side to side, leaning away from shining claws and snarling teeth. Nothing even came close to her aura of white flame unless she wanted to—unless she had an opening, and could strike one of the dryads with her scythe.

She drove her scythe blade through one nymph’s stomach, which wasn’t enough to kill it—far from it—and she bashed another in the nose with the haft.

But she had to keep moving, and she had to keep moving fast. Every time she took a step, her feet planted assuredly, as if her balance had just improved, and she could switch directions twice as fast as before.

With each step, she flung herself twice as far. It felt like gliding, as if the universe itself was allowing her to move fast without having to exert any more strength to do it.

Sometimes she stepped too far, further than she intended, or spun faster and twirled too far—and that was when the nymphs managed to land glancing strikes. A few blunt impacts rattled her frame, and she earned a few more raking claw-marks, but nothing deadly or debilitating.

Not until she tried to slice a nymph in half.

Speed, this sort of speed, wasn’t strength. The blade caught halfway through, losing momentum as it tried to melt through the nymph’s spine the hard way. It wasn’t like her base-level Bracing that enhanced everything.

The nymph shriek-laughed, then ripped herself off the scythe blade and moved closer. She wrapped her arms around Vayra’s shoulders and tackled her to the ground, bleeding sappy nectar all over Vayra.

The nymph leaned closer, trying to bite chunks of Vayra’s face off, but Vayra whipped her head side-to-side and squirmed. The nymph never had anything to latch onto—until the others approached.

One of the nymphs—the one missing a leg—Moulded knives of Arcara again. She licked her lips, then knelt down, and if about to try to pin Vayra to the ground with them. Vayra whipped her arm side to side, using the Astral Shroud’s speed to dodge the knives.

The other nymph, the one with the hair ornament, jumped on Vayra’s legs.

A single one of them was heavier than her, but two combined knocked the wind out of her. She thought her flesh-and-blood knee popped. It wasn’t dislocated yet, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

‘We’re halfway through your mana,’ Phasoné said. ‘Make a decision, Vayra. You can’t just sit there and take it.’

Vayra dispelled the scythe and switched to Starlight Palms. She blasted a short ranged one at the nymph right on top of her, then, with a surge of Arcara through her mechanical leg, she flung the hair-ornament-nymph off.

She leapt to her feet and ripped her pistol out of her belt. She hadn’t loaded it, but her magic was stronger than a pistolshot.

With a concentration of willpower, she blasted a beam of starlight-Arcara out of it. It struck the nymph in the chest and burned a smoking crater into her chest. The nymph skidded back along the floor of the clearing.

The nymph who had tackled Vayra, with the nectar-bleeding gash through her gut, pounced again. Vayra ducked to the side and laid the pistol beside her head, then blasted a second beam out. It blew off the back of the nymph’s skull.

The third nymph grabbed the pistol by the barrel and ripped it out of Vayra’s hands, and the others—battered, but not yet defeated—descended like vultures.

Vayra dodged and ducked, sidestepped and backed away. There was never an opportunity to lash out. A claw hit her from the left, then the legless dryad, who was now crawling, bit her calf.

At this rate, they’d wear her down with a thousand cuts.

What are stars?

Hm?

It wasn’t a voice in her mind. It was a thought, a feeling, that was being transmitted to her. Phasoné.

What are stars, Vayra?

Distant suns with distant worlds. Compared to moonlight, they were useless. Compared to the closest sun? Not even a chance.

But can you imagine a night sky without them?

Not a chance.

You are necessary. Stars are necessary.

The Godscourge is necessary. A little pinprick of light will bring down titans.

Vayra’s core flared, accepting a faint, distant idea of what its Path might be. Her flaming white aura spread, and a faint outline of Phasoné crept over both of her wrists and cheeks. The inside of her hair shone pure white.

She slipped between the nymphs faster than she had ever moved before. Her aura streaked off her, trailing white sparks through the air. She spun around the back of a nymph and blasted the back of its neck with a pulse of starlight, then drove two more into its midsection, and one last one between its shoulder blades.

The Starlight Palms all struck so fast that it seemed like a single flash, and a boom like a cannon erupted through the forest. In a single flash of light, the nymph disintegrated.

Vayra danced around the next nymph. It used its own Bracing technique to match hers, and for a moment, it sped up. But she had a body built for this, and she was faster. It took three hits to throw it off balance, then five more to disperse it.

Soaked in nectar and flower chunks, Vayra marched towards the last nymph, the crawling nymph. It gnashed its teeth and scrambled towards her anyway, but she jumped over it and drove three blasts of starlight into its back. It popped apart at her feet.

Dropping her arms, she deactivated the Astral Shroud and fell to her knees. She was down to an eighth of her mana supply, and she’d barely noticed the dehydration setting in.

The spirit well was looking awfully tantalizing, and now, nothing stood in her way.

She walked back to the edge of the clearing and grabbed her bucket, then lugged it back to the well and fastened it to the chain. Her limbs were starting to cramp and her eyelids felt heavier than normal, but there was no time to waste.

She dipped the bucket down to the bottom of the well. She had an advancement to complete.