I can’t move.

I can’t do anything.

All I can do is watch him twist the blade of my sword in his hand like it’s nothing, and watch his blood coat the grass below.

We both – Lightborn dog and Darkseed-serving human – look into eachothers’ eyes and see what we’ve always known was out there: the enemy.

“General Corthyris Thorn,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Raziel.”

The Glenmaidens all rush towards him but are rebuffed by the searing double strikes of the creature that’s broken free of her bonds and instantly disarmed two of the attackers. I barely even have time to register Myra’s charge she makes at Thorn before Seneca turns and strikes at her, sending her skidding across the grove to join her wounded sisters.

“Ooooooohdoes that feel good!” Seneca roars. “Let me tell you – I’ve wanted to do that do a long time.”

The Glenmaidens watch as Thorn slams me into the ground belly first and kicks me clear across the grove. I only stop when my back cracks against one of the trees scorched with the pock marks of my training with Myra.

“Sisters!” I hear one of them shout. “Seal the Grove! Protect the MIstre-“

Her plea is cut off as Seneca slits her throat from behind, descending into the dirt and reappearing to deliver her killing blow.

“Ah, ah, aaah!” the fiendish assassin giggles. “You won’t be going anywhe-“

Myra’s sword finds its mark – embedding itself in her old Master’s arm. As the two then grapple, Thorn marches forward, barely paying the retreating Glenmaidens any mind. It seems he has eyes only for me.

“Such a shame,” he tells me as I rise and charge towards him again. “Is this how the Lightborn greets his opponents? With deceit and treachery?”

[Glittering Thrust]

I hurl a mote of light right at him that homes in on his neckline and then –

Psst.

The beam fizzles out as it touches the tip of his blade, and then as I blink away my confusion, I see a shadow rise behind me.

“You disappoint me, old friend.”

Old friend?

I feel his blade slice at my tail and only just manage to turn and meet his broadsword with my own. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt something so heavy bear down on me. The first time my enemies haven’t simply crumbled away to dust when I’ve struck at them.

“You didn’t really think the Lady would Seed all her servants, did you?” he says, bearing down on me, holding his sword with a single hand as though to lead insult to injury. “As usual, your failure is one of imagination. You never were good at thinking outside the box.”

I snarl up at him as I hear more sounds of battle all around me. Clashing swords and snapping twigs, coupled with Seneca’s joyous screams.

“Don’t count on that.”

[Versatile Dig]

I tunnel beneath the ground and point my nose up to tunnel right back under his feet.

As I smash through the ground I ready a [Swallow Strike] for his nether regions.

Yet when I re-emerge, I see nothing but open sky above me. Then his creepy, dark voice reaches my ears:

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“Most interesting,” he says. “I see you’ve picked up a few new tricks.”

The ground beneath me crumbles and gives way, and his hand grips my paw from below.

“But you aren’t the only one with charged blood in your veins.”

He emerges from beneath the flowerbed and makes to slam me into the dirt. Only a quick [Tailcopter] manages to free me from his grip.

“Hah! Most interesting!” he exclaims as I float away and turn back to face him, sword hilt gripped tighter than it’s ever been between my teeth.

“Raziel!” Swiftrunner shouts behind me in the midst of the chaos of battle. “There are soldiers inside the stronghold!”

I look from Thorn to Seneca and Myra who are still locked in combat, and at the other Glenmaidens who are curled up in pain. Only about two minutes have passed since our plan went to hell, and already we’re beaten…

I return my gaze to Thorn as he straightens his back and aims the tip of his dripping, onyx blade at me.

What…what is this guy?

“Go!” I shout to Swift. “Help the others! Don’t let them in!”

Swifty comes up beside me. I can feel him. But I can’t look at him. Right now, if I take my eyes off this guy…

“I will not leave you, Little-Brother!”

“This is no time for heroics, Swift,” I whisper out the corner of my mouth. “This guy…he’ll kill us all.”

“An astute observation,” Thorn replies as Seneca detaches herself from Myra and comes to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Your predecessor often underestimated his opponents, and his allies. I’m glad to see you’ve at least learned how to fear your betters.”

Myra stands strong, catching her breath.

“Raziel,” she breathes. “Take him. I will deal with her.”

I pant. I wheeze. I feel my powers recharge. I feel the energy of the Lightborn swirling within me.

And yet I remember how his sword felt when it met mine. I remember how it felt to look into the onyx voids of his eyes mere moments ago and see my own terrified face staring back at me.

“Myra, I don’t think –“

“Let’s gut them here and now!” Seneca shouts. “Tear them apart! Feast on their flesh! Oh, oh Thorn, this is truly the heaven the Lady offered – a bloodstained battlefield to call my own. Wondrous, oh, wondrous slaughter of putrid, prancing Elves, and their would-be-savior!”

“Quite eloquent,” Thorn replies, keeping his eyes trained on us.

“Do as the Lightborn says, Swiftrunner” Myra whispers. “Go, now. Tell them to seal us in here.”

He hesitates. I can feel it.

“You may have it, Seneca,” Thorn says. “The battlefield of your dreams. The death of your former fledgling and the Lightborn, both. I’m afraid I have other matters that require attending to.”

Seneca’s snake-like tongue flicks out to lick her vile, vicious lips.

“Leave some of the dragon for me,” she says. “I’m a greedy girl, and I’ve never tasted dragon blood.”

“Do keep them entertained. But remember: the Lightborn’s blood belongs to Lady Gyko, and her alone.”

Gyko…

Myra tenses beside me as I finally turn and bark at Swifty directly.

“Go, Swift! Now!”

His eyes are full of the same fear that’s paralyzed us all. But I think my command has snapped him out of it. He takes off immediately, bellowing my directive.

But then I realize the mistake I’ve made – taking my eyes off the General.

“I would love nothing more than to spar with you both till dawn breaks over this realm,” he says, and as I follow his voice, I see he’s entirely disappeared from his position beside his snarling lieutenant. “But I have a world to win.”

The earth shatters beneath us once more and I see a long finger of dirt pierce its way towards Swiftrunner’s escaping form.

“Swift!””

[Swallow Swipe]

This time my strike finds its mark and brings Thorn out of the depths just in time for Swift to jump through the barrier to the other side.

But not before Thorn launches himself right through with him.

“Damn it!” I spit as I [Blink] towards the exit. “Swift! Wai-“

A stout slash aimed at my stomach sends me flying right back across the grove, and as I stagger to my feet and shake off the blow I realize that it would have probably killed me without my new Mithril threads.

“Oh no, no, no, no no!” the cackling Seneca chuckles as the grove is finally sealed. “You aren’t going anywhere, rodent.”

Myra’s beside me instantly, swiping her blade through the air in direct challenge as Seneca creeps forward.

Only then do I see the cuts on her arms and waist. The places where Seneca’s corrupted talons had found their marks.

“Myra,” I stutter. “You don’t have to do this.”

Visions of Seneca’s blood-drenched scythes fill my eyes. I’m right back on the Plains, under that tree, watching her massacre my friends all over again.

But the Elven woman beside me is completely composed. She keeps her eyes on her opponent, and takes her sword in both hands.

“I told you I’d stand with you, Raziel,” she says. “No matter what.”

I think of Swiftrunner and the rest still trapped outside, and realize that this isn’t even the main event. I can’t show fear. Not now. Not for her.

And not in front of Myra, I tell myself. Damn it. You’ve been a coward for most of this gig. Time to bear those fangs. Show this crazy bitch what the Lightborn’s made of.

“Together, then,” I say, watching as the eyes of the predator flick between us both, and the lights of the grove begin to dim, bleeding away into shades of dark, macabre crimson.

Seneca’s smile only widens in the face of our resolve.

“How sweet vengeance tastes,” she snarls. “Especially when I get two whole helpings…”