Astra stumbled to her feet with shaky vision and an empty head, legs jelly beneath her and stomach churning its contents like a sack of curdling milk.

The undead was clear in her sight, five fathoms ahead and spinning as the Gemini shot back from its blow. Even so, she nearly leapt from her skin at the touch of a hand on her arm from one side.

“It’s me.” Hissed a quiet, serpentine voice. Astra turned to meet Eden’s gaze, fury bubbling through the haze of her rocked mind and convulsing thoughts.

“Arsehole!” She snapped back. “You nearly had me out of my skin!”

“I wouldn’t have, if you’d the sense to realise when you were impotently staring at our only enemy.” The boy countered, voice already shifted to the tone of near boredom he seemed to reserve for meeting reasonable objections to his behaviour.

A great thud snapped Astra’s eyes back ahead of her, revealing the undead stumbling as Crow landed by its side. She felt a stab of relief at the sight of her brother fighting again, then guilt at not so much as glancing at him beforehand.

“Focus, blondie.” Eden’s voice rang out, forcing her to turn back his way through force of personality. “We don’t have long, I need you to listen.”

Deka cursed herself as Astra’s brother threw his might against the undead once more, proving her cowardice by acting sooner from across a room than she had from a half dozen paces.

Fear was water to him, not a wall of ice.

Would I fight like that, if three quarters of my magic hadn’t abandoned me?

Deka didn’’t know, finding herself suddenly fearful of what the answer may be. Surely she wasn’t a coward.

The sound of metal ringing like a bell shattered her fearful stupor, focusing Deka’s trembling mind and bringing her to gaze upon her teammate’s battle. It was a losing one.

She clutched magic; forcing shape onto it, then rigidity. Still recalling the way her attacks had shattered like clay against the enemy’s armour, she made a blade of her mind and whittled away at the luminox until its end was as fine a point as she could manage.

Deka soon had a cylindrical lance the length of her arm, building kinetic power behind it before letting it fly a moment later. It cut through the air in a blue streak, finding its mark between the undead’s shoulder blades.

Whether by the improvement of her weapon or simply the wear on the black armour, metal yielded before luminox with a sickening screech, tearing and splitting enough to engulf the first inch of Deka’s projectile- leaving the remaining three hands’ length protruding from the creature’s back like a fallen stalectite.

Green vapour leaked from the breech like smoke from a cracked candle cap, but the undead seemed indifferent to it. Its attack wasn’t so much as paused, its focus not so much as split.

Astra’s brother appeared no less oblivious than the enemy, dodging twice more by the time Deka had brought her hands back to form another plate-killing spike.

“I’m going to speak quickly,” she heard, nearly loosing her bolt a heartbeat early as the unexpected voice shook her with its presence, “So you’re going to need to listen well.”

Deka fought to keep herself from turning, holding her eyes plastered to the enemy’s back, magic to the construct in her hands. Voice shaking, she answered.

“Speak, then.”

Without so much as a single snarky retort, Unity Eden did just that.

Crow cursed as his foot caught beneath him, raising an arm and slapping the hissing blade to one side as it arced for his throat. He stumbled from the shield, righted himself, then staggered yet more as the sword swung again.

His dodge was imperfect, another line of fire running along his chest to show it. The pain barely even registered beside the urgent, bubbling fear as his eyes tracked the serrated black steel along every inch it moved.

Crow’s retreat hastened almost to the point of flight, but it placed no more distance between him and his foe. He cursed the undead for its speed and power, more than anything else its tenacity.

The abomination moved through the profanity with no more difficulty than silence.

It didn’t even faze the creature when yet another projectile shattered against its shoulder, shrapnel dragged ever forward by their momentum and continuing to rain upon him.

But then Crow saw the familiar crimson outline of Astra’s gate. His sister leapt free the moment it was wide enough, diving into a roll, into a jog, then turning that into a jumping kick.

She gave the undead pause, though for barely a second. It was swinging before she’d landed, blade biting into her crossed guard and launching her free as another blue bolt broke against it.

Crow made to leap forth and join Astra in the fray, finding himself halted only by a hand on one shoulder.

“Hold the charge, Crow. We need to talk. Quickly.”

It was only the recognition of Unity’s voice that kept him from replying with a blind elbow. Only the deep, carefully instilled calm replacing any urgency that kept him from shaking the grip free and rushing ahead regardless.

Astra felt the world part behind her, jumping for the gate as her enemy’s sword lifted.

It lashed out a kick before she was halfway to it, catching her in the ribs and throwing her into the entrance wall with emptied lungs.

Through the curtain of her shaken head and muddled thoughts, Astra saw Eden’s plan coming to fruition.

Deka barely thought as she battled, all higher mental processes flattening out as her mind focused itself entirely on the task of building magic, shaping it and releasing another blast.

The undead whirled in her sight, turning its head fractionally toward her before taking off across the room for her in great bounding strides. A sight to leave her thoughtless and frozen in a fearful stupor.

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She dismissed it. Charged, shaped, fired. Then did it all over again.

Be it by a newfound focus or simply luck, she found the power coming to her touch more quickly than it had before. Her javelins of luminox flew like rain cast from a stormcloud, landing with rifled precision.

The undead charged through her assault as if it were hail against a thick coat, its tower shield shattering the projectiles. Deka found any shaking in her hands stilled long before it could cause issue.

My teammates stood their ground. I’ve lost my strength, but I’m not going to lose my will.

The promise seemed a hollow thing.

It was within a dozen feet when she began her final attack, becoming certain a tenth into its preparation that there would be chance for no other.

Deka had battered the undead’s armour; leaving it jagged where it had been smooth, deformed where it had been sleek, cracked and fissured where it had been unyielding. Green vapour wisped free of a dozen splits and fractures, and the dark metal groaned in protest under its own weight with every stride the wearer took.

She wondered whether one last lance would be all she needed. Hoped.

She felt the projectile harden amid her grasp, seizing it with magic and letting the propulsive energy writhe at its back. Giving it an extra moment to build, knowing the instants would do her no more good anywhere else.

It left her grip with such force as to flatten her, crossing the remaining yard between it and the target quickly enough to disappear from her magically enhanced sight.

Flying back from the recoil, she just barely glimpsed the sight of blue chips and dust spraying outward from the centre of her enemy’s torso. It staggered the monster, forced it back a step even as fragmented metal fell in slivers to join the sapphire rain.

Deka smiled at the sight, landing a moment later and sliding backwards. She didn’t even try to move, knew there would be no time for any such endeavour to succeed.

Footsteps rang in her ears from behind the monster; staying it, then turning it to face them at their source. Deka felt a smile blossom across her face at the sight of Unity Eden rushing towards the enemy, hands burning with an unearthly crimson power.

She shut her eyes tight, knowing from the boy’s whispered warning what was to come.

Light seared them even behind their lids, bringing tears and leaving great streaks across her grimy cheeks as they rolled down.

The brightness was enough to cause pain, leaving Deka certain her sight would have been obliterated entirely were it not for the magic bringing them resilience. She could only hope it was half so fierce against the undead’s senses.

Unity swore as the Gemini’s blast erupted into a storm of light, and Crow found himself urged to join in. Even tightening lids across eyes like portcullises, the pain was extraordinary.

Pit, Menza. How powerful are you?

He pushed the question aside, burying it beside awe and apprehension.

The world was lost to him, nothing but an ocean of red and white. Shape and texture an impossibility for his tortured eyes. A moment of panic reached him at the knowledge that he’d not even notice tumbling from a cliff until he felt himself fall.

Unity must have fallen, for Crow’s strain Glimpsed him trip as the boy dropped into his path. Feet catching against the artificial’s legs, hands splaying for steadiness as he shot towards the ground. Charge ruined before it could truly begin.

It was warning enough to avoid disaster.

He leapt the obstruction, reached blindly to where his magic had shown the boy’s shoulder and grinned as he felt fabric hooked beneath his fingers. With a careful motion he pulled his teammate up and behind him, continuing the rush with Unity in hot pursuit.

This is it. He realised, blood turning to slush at the thought. Step one is complete. If we fail now, the plan fails with us.

The light faded, then. Dying from the Gemini misjudging her timing, or simply proving too intense for even her to sustain any longer than she already had. Whatever the cause, Crow felt no less despair at its absence.

Opening his eyes, he just barely saw the undead as a great patch of blackness through the curtain of tears.

Do its eyes feel pain, like ours? If not, it may well be ready.

The uncertainty gave Crow fear enough for ten thousand men, adding fuel to the flame beneath his feet and taking him forth faster than he’d have thought his wounds would allow. He reached the enemy in two more paces, fists raised and jaw tightened for battle.

His eyes refocused in time to reveal the blade thrusting for him.

Crow’s fist came up to meet it, metal rebounding from bone and flying sideways- scraping along a shoulder. His momentum dragged him deep across it, flesh parting wide as the steel pried it open and leaving three hands of blade to be streaked by his blood.

It was a pain unlike any he’d felt before. Deep and sharp, like burning ice and freezing fire, both injected into his very nerves.

Against every screaming protest his muscles let out, Crow reached out and gripped the sword with both hands. His anchored weight served perfectly to hold it still.

Unity shot forth beside him, streaming lightning in his wake and letting a feral cry escape his lips. Crow saw him leap, felt his own thoughts turn frantic and fearful along with the movement.

His stomach dropped from him as the undead’s shield raised, then hope held it still. Unity allowed himself to crunch into the length of steel, gripping it as it continued forth and clinging to the metal even as his enemy tried to shake him free.

Crow felt a tugging on the sword as its wielder tried to change stance for greater leverage. Fighting through his pain, he held fast and kept the weapon trapped with his body. The undead struggled for an instant before leaving go of the hilt a vital heartbeat too late.

Unity dropped from the shield, rolled beneath it as it came to swing down and closed in on the undead. He raised both hands, bringing them to press against the scarred plate bound to its torso and grinning as the magic flowed through him.

“Nice armour you have there!” The boy cried, “It’d be a shame if-”

The rest of his barb was swallowed by the sound of screaming steel and howling leather.

Crow watched as smoke engulfed the undead, then washed outwards over both Unity and him. Waiting moments for it to clear enough to render the world visible in outlines, a weight seemed to melt from his shoulders as he caught the sight of their enemy. Lying prone.

He turned to the scrying slate strapped around his arm, too tired for even delight at his victory, peering sightlessly through tears and debris as he tried to make out the numerals etching themselves across its surface.

It wasn’t until the air thinned and his eyes dried that any semblance of sense could reach him from the display. When it did, Crow found his guts tighten like strangling snakes.

Current points: One thousand three hundred and fifty.

He stared at the stone emptily, eyes unable to truly soak in what it told him.

Sounds reached him from around as the debris faded further; celebratory, concerned. Jubilation mingling with apprehension in a way he’d scarcely seen before. Even so, Crow couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to it.

A thousand points. All that, and I get a thousand points.

A hand came down on his shoulder, fingers digging in and pulling him to stare vacantly into the owner’s face. Unity met his gaze with the same crooked smile he always wore.

“Expecting more?” The boy asked.

Crow didn’t answer, even when the world began to bleed into the flowing colours and unfocused images he’d come to recognise as harbingers of translocation magic. There wasn’t a thing he could think of that was worth saying.

A hollow, empty, agonised laugh escaped him. Smothered instantly by the hum of shifting space.