The flashing strike of metal against one of my daggers is nearly enough to wrench it free from my grasp - it’s only by some miracle that it stays firm. He moves fast, unbelievably fast, and it’s all I can do just to block the blows coming my way. I can tell, though, that there’s something wrong here. He could easily slip through my meager defenses and stick me between the ribs or through the throat, and I would be helpless to stop him.

So why hasn’t he?

“Is this how you’re going to kill her, Sybil?” I can feel every movement that he makes, and that frightening speed. He’s as fast as she was… “Josephine’s a step above this level of performance, and you know that.” In the act of deflecting one of his strikes, my right hand is knocked away and my body is left unguarded on one side. Before I can even move my hand back to where it belongs, coursing pain shoots through my side. White, hot waves dance on my vision - my ribs have been struck. Hard, but not enough to break any bones.

“She can sense energy, so she’ll be able to identify the presence of any of your spellwork.” He bats my other weapon to the side, just as I pull back with the other. “She has a lifetime of combat experience, and the instincts to show for it.” He leans forward, taking a single step toward me - in a flash, I see the barest hint of an open palm, and then feel the wind get ripped from my lungs. I’m on my back, the night sky above me. “You might have a chance, Sybil, but only if you play dirty.”

Air is finally allowed to enter my lungs once more, and I hear him continue, “Do you have a single inkling of how to play dirty, though?”

I clutch Tanascáil tightly, frustration building up in my chest. There’s no time to waste here - Adeline’s waiting. And the longer I stall, the higher the odds that this whole plan is brought to ruin. He wants me to play dirty? Fine.

“Sybil wait! They-”

With my hands and feet both, I push off of the ground, funneling mana into Tanascáil. I can feel it, that dark sheet covering me - I’ve disappeared from his sight. His gaze trails up to nowhere in particular, and he makes no further moves. I am silent, soundless, sprinting my way toward his back. For a moment, his eyes shift toward my general direction, as if he caught the slightest glimpse of me.

I place a hand on his side, and let mana erupt again. Energy flows freely, a solid rod of it piercing through his flesh and bones - only to branch out into sharp spines and thorns. Fresh, hot blood soaks into my hands, and I can see his gore dripping onto the ground below. W-wait… Why is he?

Why is he dead? I thought he was strong…

I whip around at the sound of applause - nothing grandiose, though, more slow and tempered than anything. “Not what I’d expect from a mage, not at all.” It’s him - how is he alive? He… I… My neck cranes back to look at the corpse I created. But it’s gone, faded away - same as the blood on my hands. He continues, unconcerned about my frantic glances, “It was hard to detect you. If I didn’t expect it, I might not have noticed at all - but there is one glaring weakness in it.”

I blink a few times, licking my lips, “What’s the weakness..?”

The captain holds up a hand, waving it back and forth to fan himself, “The wind.” He says, “Especially if you’re moving quickly, you’re creating a slight breeze. Minimal, but enough for someone with experience to pick up on.”

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My teeth dig into the side of my cheek, pushing down the desire to scream at this person. Instead, those harsh words roll out with a quiet tone, “Who are you? What… What are you trying to do here?” I ask, still clenching down on my daggers.

“Making sure you aren’t going to get yourself killed.” He says, “I think I have my work cut out for me, though.” For some reason, he laughs to himself, brushing his hair up with his hand. He stays like that for a little bit, lost in thought. And then, after what feels like an hour, he looks toward me once again. “Do you really have to kill Josephine in order to save Adeline, Sybil?”

Before I can even formulate an argument, he continues, “Think about it - don’t answer, just think about it. You have the capacity to hide from her, even if it may not allow you to actually perfectly attack her. All that you need is access to Adeline’s cell, and the two of you could run - as fast as you can.” He knows it isn’t that simple though, doesn’t he? I can’t outrun Josephine while bringing along another. Maybe, maybe if I were alone - but I wouldn’t be. What is he trying to get at?

The man waves his hand as if he’s trying to brush it off, “Regardless, be careful with her, right? Josephine is famed even outside of Hyperion - and believe me, that’s an achievement. Killing her won’t be the end of your problems.” Then, as if that was all that needed to be said, he turns away from me and begins walking off, “Good luck, new-Sorcery.”

I’m left with no time to ask anything, no time to let out a peep. He simply walks around the side of the building and disappears from my sight. Do I give chase, or do I go help my allies..?

“Sybil!” Stella yells in my mind, “Goodness, you really know how to get yourself into pinches! Focus on the present, alright? Don’t worry about them - you’ve got a Cirix to kill.”

At her strange insistence, I rip my gaze from where I last saw him, and turn around to face my allies once more.

----------------------------------------

Only one of the Hunters remains, that wizened-looking mage. His staff is splintered, and he paces around Maeve and Aisling - waiting for an opportunity to strike. The pair have both suffered from his magic, their clothes singed and splotches of burnt skin clear to see. None of them can see me as I am now, veiled by Tanascáil’s magic. The thought would scare me before, walking into the middle of a fight like this while remaining unseen.

Now, it almost feels relaxing. Nobody perceives me, and so there is no targeting, no expectations, no worries about what might or might not be done.

I step between flashes of light and spore-clouds, slowly navigating my way toward that mage. It gets more difficult as I go along, but I manage it just fine. It’s odd, seeing his eyes so full of focus toward the two enemies in front of him - unable to see the one closest. It feels unfair.

My hand outstretches, the palm laying flat against his torso. I watch his eyes flick over toward me, and feel him begin to gather mana together to protect himself. There just isn’t enough time, though - not for him.

The sound it makes is downright sickening. Wet squelching and the sounds of crushing, cracking bones - split and forced apart by that sharp wellspring of mana. I step to the side of him, even as he tries to turn his neck to face me. The spell dug through his torso, all the way through to his back. A jagged, messy hole.

He falls flat against the ground, dead, a veritable pond of scarlet pooling around his body. My right hand and my front are covered in what splattered off of him from the force of the magic.

I take a deep breath, forcing down nausea in favor of conviction - there’s more to be done. This is just the beginning of the night. For now, I need to focus on keeping everyone alive. Reaching into my satchel, I dig out two healing potions. No - there’s Aidan, too. He finished up his confrontation first… I pull out another, and turn to head back toward the dwarves and our arbalist.

There’s something wrong in their eyes. Not Aidan’s, but Maeve and Aisling’s. They saw it in full, saw how I put an end to the fight. It isn’t disgust, no… It’s horror.