Deka dug her heels in, then opened her palms to spew luminox behind her in great hooked sickle-like edges. Foot and blade alike dug deep into the yielding ground, dragging her to a halt far faster than she could have managed with either alone.

She turned, then threaded her will into the hooks behind her. For a moment they tensed like muscles seized by shock, then that tension diverted into a great flexive twist.

Half pushed, half thrown, she broke off to one side already near a sprinting pace. In seconds the sound of her enemy grew, and Deka managed no more than twenty strides before she was forced to stumble back as the bald woman lunged from the diagonal, cutting her off.

Landing hard, rolling rough, she came up in a crouch with luminox already reaching outward and hooking deep into the dirt once more.

For an instant the world was frozen.

Deka stared at the shaven girl just cubits from her, pale and tall where she was black and short. She saw rips and singes dotting her foe’s clothing, clear signs of more than one fight already won, and a focus to chill her bones glared out from behind brown eyes.

Then the luminox tensed, dragging her back with a speed to scatter thoughts and numb sensation. Deka twisted, landing turned around and sprinting before hurtling away in the exact opposite direction she’d run before.

Seeing her trajectory of choice must have stunned the bald woman, for Deka managed to take almost half a dozen steps before the chase began anew.

She wasn’t sure how long the newest bout of running lasted.

Long enough that Deka’s already strained lungs changed their protests from pain to agony. Long enough that she could feel each muscle of her body simply by the lactic burn as it bled through to sear her flesh from within.

Long enough that the pounding footfalls at her back closed ever inwards; from five dozen feet behind to less than a score, then nearer still. So close that Deka was sure she could feel hot breath on her neck even amid the stage’s growing heat.

She almost wept upon reaching her goal. Luminox shot out before her, laying flat and sloped against the face of the plateau.

It welcomed Deka with an embrace of steadiness, shifting beneath her feet to ensure she remained upright even in spite of the uneven elevation and letting her run continue with nothing more than a drop in speed.

Alarmed cursing from behind let her know when her persuer had reached the construct. She almost smiled at the thought. A path that changed and contorted in response to will was only of use to the person whose will it had been tethered to, after all.

Deka reached the top moments later, then, smothering fear with the rush of combat, threw herself over the edge.

The wind howled, bringing tears to well from her eyes and whipping them across her face. For just a few seconds she was weightless; moreso than she’d ever felt just swimming or finding new strength from magic.

Then she landed, her heels slamming down hard as the rest of her followed. She stumbled, almost toppled, righted herself and ran once more.

Deka spared only a single thought to her slate, hope sparking once more within her at the realisation that its alerts had grown threefold since she first noticed them. A chance.

She ran like she’d never run before, as if a cannon fired each time her heel met the dirt. Magic propelled her almost as fast as gravity had, and all the pained protests of her tortured body were lost behind her flight’s adrenal haze.

By the time a darting shadow warned of the bald woman leaping to join her at the base of the plateau, Deka had already left her five hundred feet behind.

Red and brown leaked to grey ahead; the ancient Yuyaran structures cutting a dark figure in the distance. Any other time Deka might have found herself given pause to rush so quickly towards them, but the ease with which the enemy had torn her constructs banished all doubt.

Barely a minute passed before Deka found herself surrounded on both sides by the Shrouded Era’s dull grey architecture, and the sudden lapse in dry heat was like water to parched lips as she ran.

The ground was hard, yielding not even a hair and serving to hasten her stumbling sprint.

Better than before by far, Deka could hear every step the bald woman took through the conductive stone. The space between them was half what it had been. Perhaps less.

She focused on the humming of her slate, trying to drown her fear. It was no use; hearing the stampeding strides once, she couldn’t help but make note of each one that followed.

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My slate is calling so strongly, now. Surely I’m close.

Deka had no way of knowing; for all she knew there was a mile yet separating her from whichever of her team was nearest. Even half or a quarter would be too far for any chance of reaching them in time.

The hope she’d felt flickering to life perished like a candle under rain. Despair feasting on its deathrattle.

Footsteps grew ever louder behind her, a hundred feet away. Deka felt frustrated tears build as exhaustion robbed her of yet more precious speed.

Sixty feet. Then fifty. Thirty.

The slate around her wrist practically howled, warnings growing strong enough that they were more akin to contortions. She swore the leather strained to hold it.

Twenty feet. Then, once more, a dozen.

Deka screamed blindly and recklessly; condensing all the fury and hate running through her to a single note, then spitting it out to poison the air.

She spun, luminox already coiling around her fists and eager for blood. Her enemy’s eyes bore no shock, she hadn’t expected them to.

Deka had played too many cards to surprise the girl with any more.

Jagged blue magic streaked from her like javelins, arcing towards the mystic with a speed that would surely have outmatched Deka’s own reactions. Their target wasn’t so slow as that.

The first struck her shoulder, tearing brown fabric and showing a flash of crimson ichor as it rocked her slightly. Before the second could land, the woman had already ducked downwards.

Deka cursed as the lance of luminox shot high, already focusing to weave another weapon. Too slow again.

Her guard was raised just in time to catch a punch, but it still threw her back. She skidded along the ground, feeling the thick clothing of her back tear as she flipped over a half dozen times before stopping. Deka was grabbed before she’d even realised which direction was up.

Stomach lurching, she was plucked from the ground like a leaf in the wind. Almost before she knew what was happening, the girl slammed her back down onto her back. A dozen spears of pain thrust through her, jarring viscera and rattling bone. Deka couldn’t help but scream.

The sound was pinned in her throat as a hand tightened around it, cutting off blood and breath alike with a single, iron squeeze. Panic burned in an instant, and Deka raised her hands again.

Her fear grew a hundredfold when the girl slapped her arms down, scattering the luminox before it could congeal and strengthening her grip.

Colour leaked from Deka’s vision just as the cobalt of magic was driven from her.

Her heart, already like a drumbeat, seemed to grow louder still as blood pooled in her head. Panic overcame her, mindless and without rationality. Inherited from her bestial ancestors before even magic.

Deka thrashed, bucked and snarled as she tried to free herself. Arms flailing without luminox, wielding only the brute strength of her magic and muscles.

Her chin dipped, neck straining to bring her mouth close to the hand that held it so harshly- teeth poised to sink into the skin and flesh beneath. It was too far by inches.

The world grew quieter and darker as the strength left her, every passing second seeming to leach power out of Deka’s body. She suddenly felt a great tiredness mingling with the pressure in her skull, coaxing her to relax and sleep.

Why shouldn’t I? My fate was sealed the moment most of my magic abandoned me. The only thing to achieve in struggling on is to delay the inevitable. Better to let myself lose quickly and easily. Painlessly. I’m hardly entering for my own sake, regardless. What does it matter if the Alliance thinks me weak?

Letting her arms slacken, Deka felt her eyes tugged shut by the exhaustion. It almost brought a smile to her face; peace, finally, after such a long and pointless struggle.

Yet before she could slip completely away into unconsciousness and await transportation, the hand disappeared from her throat. She heaved without thinking, drinking the air.

Deka’s clearing vision showed the bald girl stumbling, chips of stone flying as though fleeing from her feet. Before her was another girl, shorter by half a head and with a scalp wreathed in straight, pale blonde hair rather than shaved barren. Her fists were clenched, elbows tucked and body compacted into a brawler’s stance.

She watched as the two girls eyed one another, marvelling at the sudden caution within the bald one’s eyes.

Suddenly the shaved mystic didn’t seem so large, nor so fierce. Diminished by her own fear, stripping away all fevered illusions Deka’s mind had cast and leaving the human beneath laid bare.

They moved almost at once, one going low and the other high. A kick met the guard of an elbow, turned aside at the shin.

Before the shaved girl could right herself, the blonde countered. Her own heel lashed out, sinking deep into ribs and driving air from the larger mystic. Deka might have cheered were she able to form words.

She watched as the shaven girl staggered again, blindly throwing one punch after another as if fighting to slow her enemy rather than wound them. It mattered little, for each blow was either smacked aside or deftly evaded. In moments the blonde had closed in regardless.

Fists flew, elbows hooked and knees thrust upwards like lightning rebounding from the earth. The entire confrontation couldn’t have taken more than a half-minute, but by its end only one of the mystics stood.

Brown eyes turned to Deka, stilling the ever-thunderous beating of her heart as she realised the slate on her arm had fallen quiet.

The blonde girl studied her impassively for a moment before speaking.

“So, you’re my teammate?”

Deka could hear the disappointment in her voice, but the girl appeared content to let it be known. It irked her, sparking fire enough to speak.

“I am.” Deka said. “Deka Xenus. Might I have your name?”

A smile from the girl.

“Astra Tempora.”