Crow crawled, Cutaris urging haste to thread his movements. He barely bit it back, forcing a miserable sluggishness to the pace and remaining uncertain he would be unseen regardless. It was maddening, almost enough to drive him from cover and send him sprinting open and fearless.

Still he crawled, scarring the ground with knees and elbows, pausing with terror more than once when he grew sure the noise had damned him.

It took Crow what felt like minutes to move a dozen wretched yards, but as he finally lay still he found himself regretting not a foot. Turning as careful as he could in the grass, he stopped his movement one last time. Reaching inside himself and drawing on the magic, finding it in need of much coaxing to call on.

Neramis was slow to answer as ever

Time parted before Crow as he waited, keeping his eyes and ears peeled even while scrutinising the future for any hint of his enemy. It was a futile effort.

Down in the grass, he had no chance of seeing anything of worth with eyes of light. And those of time would show nothing sooner than a moment before disaster.

His plan had been to shift position and wait, making a trap of any knowledge Balogun had gained by seeing him as he stood. Waiting for her to come to him. Either the Írìsi moved more quietly and subtly than he’d expected, or she’d not seen him at all. Both foiled his strategem.

Crow lay without movement, save the whirring gears of his mind. Thoughts moving so fast they almost hurt, Cutaris bringing all its impulsivity to bear against the apathetic stagnancy of Neramis and driving him to move.

Before long he found a plan sprouting from his mind. Clever and sharp, the sort that Unity or Gem might weave. And with the risks he’d trust only Astra to face unwavering.

Desperation served as a substitute for bravery, and Crow began to stand heedless of his bowel loosening fear.

He moved slow. Waiting, all the while, for a glimpse of the future to warn him of Balogun’s gaze.

None came. Straightening entirely, Crow scanned the plains. His search was hurried and swift, fuelled by the knowledge that, wherever Balogun was, she might turn towards him by chance at any moment. Or else close in without warning, should his strain have failed to register her approach as danger.

Then he caught sight of his enemy. Chocolate-dark skin no less at odds with the vibrancy around her than the trees had been.

Flattening himself again, heart pounding with more than just fear for the first time since his task’s beginning, Crow began another crawl. Slow and careful as before, or as near to it as he could manage.

He descended the hill like a stalking leopard.

Crow scrambled for Balogun even as the wind let up, finding himself too close to victory to do anything but chase it. He kept a mental map of his location as he moved, praying the girl would not stray far from where he’d glimpsed her last.

Seconds scraped by before Crow’s shifting pursuit came to an end, and even as his crawl finished it took him a moment of stillness to steady himself. Hardening nerves for the attack.

Standing, he kept a cautious preparedness for his strain’s warnings. None came, and he saw Balogun yet again, back turned, merely thirty feet ahead.

His instinct was to duck down again, but doing so might spell defeat. At the range he’d reached, speed was needed, not subtlety.

Crow drew in breath, whispered another prayer so quiet it was lost even to his own ears, then erupted from the grass in a sprint.

Balogun spun before his fourth step, magic already alight in her veins and eyes tight with concentration as they fell upon him. Crow saw the sparks crack about her fingers, kept running regardless.

Half the distance was gone by the time flames first emerged, half again before they’d swollen enough to cover him.

Crow met the wall of fire unflinching, bursting through it even as the sudden heat took him from all sides. It was cold, the burning. Like icy water seeping through his skin. Sensation-killing.

The pain came only after he crashed into the girl, knocking her down flat and tightening his legs about her waist in a mount. A thousand needles seemed to pluck the flesh from Crow’s body where he’d felt flames touch, seared nerves screaming their death rattles while he fought.

He ignored the sensation, driving a closed fist down into Balogun’s face as she struggled beneath him.

So heavy was his blow that the dirt yielded beneath her head, parting as the girl’s skull sank into it. Balogun struggled still, pounding on Crow with fists even as she worked to shake him free. Her blows had not the strength or leverage to force him from her, swallowed without a trace by his armour, and he’d planted himself too firmly atop for any rocking to dislodge.

Crow struck again, then again after that. Keeping himself stuck against the girl, too close for her flames to be used, bringing every ounce of his physical might to breaking down her defences. Blows landed against a guard as the Írìsi gave up on bucking him entirely. Seeking only to limit the damage.

It was a useless effort. Crow could practically feel her nearing her limits, taste his own victory as it grew closer by the moment. It fuelled his hope like coal.

His Eye of Temporis ruined the certainty with truth, letting him Glimpse Balogun’s knife in motion just an instant before she drew it. Crow saw the blade part his armour like paper, sink deep into his side amid a crimson fountain.

Then the premonition was over, world tilting as he leapt from her, seeing the glint of sunlight against metal even as he rolled back along the grass.

He and the girl both scrambled to their feet at once, and the Írìsi surprised him a second time by closing in.

Crow retreated as she came on, knife unsheathed and revealing a frightening form. Its blade was triangular and sharp, needle thin and milk white as it leapt for him, like a weapon forged from bone.

It crossed like a bolt of lightning, jagged and quick. Forcing perfection in every step Crow took and punishing the slightest error by closing the gap.

Burning lines wept blood from a half dozen places on his body in barely moments, pale metal parting his armour no less easily than the flesh beneath. Still Crow fled.

He could think of no alternative.

Balogun’s foot slipped, and Crow pounced on her mistake. Realised his own only as she straightened from the feint, whipping the knife around and opening a gash across his cheek as he darted back barely in time.

It was chance enough for her. She closed in with the blade still flashing, her eyes still burning, and in moments Crow was fighting for balance beneath him even as he struggled to maintain his space from her.

His enemy was a terror, her weapon a reaper’s scythe. And Crow’s head seemed entirely empty of ideas.

It took ten heartbeats more before desperation pushed him over the edge.

Again the blade came twisting in, and Crow held fast as it neared him. Gasped as he felt its length run deep into his side, burrowing through meat, muscle and fat as if it were nothing at all.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Balogun’s eyes widened, terror clear on her face as she realised what she’d done. Crow seized it with both hands, reaching out to hold her head tight even as he drew his own back, then slamming his forehead into her nose with all the strength his body could muster.

The headbutt flattened cartilage and painted both their faces in blood as she stumbled.

Crow felt agony sprout from the wound, Balogun’s grip remaining tight as her fall wrenched it from him. He hammered a fist down on her wrist to open the fingers, then slapped the weapon free of them as his own legs gave out.

Shock dragged him to the floor, seeming to leave a mountain’s weight on his back. Crow was still struggling for thought amid a clouded mind when he saw Balogun scrambling to her feet.

Urgency pierced his confusion, and he raised a leg to trip the girl. He was up at the same moment as her, the second time, tackling the girl to pin her again.

A scream cut the air as Balogun writhed beneath him, thrashing like a wounded rat and biting like a feral dog. Crow felt her fists strike every inch they could reach, her fingers raking and scratching wherever the girl must have thought most sensitive. He gritted his teeth, bearing the onslaught even while he regained his strength through deep, heaving breaths.

Balogun had no time to react when he finally moved, his fist raining down on her from above and denting the earth beneath her again. He followed the blow before she could regain her bearings, eager to avoid another upset.

Again he struck, then again. Each impact coaxing a wave of hot pain to assail him where the metal had sunk.

He ignored the sensation, finding it numbed, somehow, by the task at hand.

Balogun grew more enfeebled by the second, strength squeezed from her by fatigue and pain as Crow attacked. He felt his heart swell for the second time as nascent bruises coloured every inch of the girl, and still he attacked. Drawing nearer to victory with each move.

Nearer to victory. He thought, and closer to her defeat.

Crow recalled the look he’d seen on Balogun’s face the night before, piercing even the memory of his outrage at being assumed so corruptible.

There had been a desperation there that haunted him, a fear to unnerve any on even a normal face. Made all the worse by Balogun’s.

The memory stayed his hand for a moment. Maddeningly, foolishly, Crow found himself frozen with thought. Unable, just for an insant, to keep striking the girl who’d shown such sincere weakness to him.

Balogun wore it no longer, and he realised too late she’d not been half so beaten as appearances told.

Before Crow could resume his assault, the Írìsi moved. Rapier speed rocking him as she shifted below, leaning forwards and reaching out to plunge a pair of fingers deep into the wound at his side.

He screamed, raw and unrestrained. His agony leaving as a purer sound than any other he’d managed. Welling tears hid the world from him, blind madness stealing his sight.

When his vision cleared Crow had already been laid flat, staring up at the sky with a fire still burning in his torso. He glimpsed Balogun moving, thoughts instantly turning to her blade.

The urgency was enough to force him up.

Balogun spun just as Crow hurled the fistful of dirt he’d wrenched from the ground. It struck square in her face, filling eyes and blinding the girl as she cursed. Crow charged, rolled just before he came within reach and watched as the knife cut high over his head.

He rose with an elbow, digging it deep in Balogun’s gut and forcing the air from her.

Somehow she remained standing even as her body hurtled back along the grass.

Crow charged, still well within the range at which Balogun’s flames were safe.

He grabbed the girl’s wrist, twisted the way Galad had taught and felt her twist back the way Astra always had. She wasn’t half the fighter his sister was, losing her weapon in an instant. Crow felt it land by his feet and kicked it aside, then jerked with an elbow to send his enemy stumbling.

Cautious of her flames, he followed as she reeled. Evading blind, wild swings and closing in around them, falling back into the familiar rhythm of unarmed combat.

Crow teased the girl with light jabs, coaxing her guard to one side before striking hard from the other. She folded, wavered, but didn’t fall. Clearly all too aware that she’d not escape the mount again.

Balogun tried to sneak around him, surely aiming to snatch her knife again. Crow denied her at every opportunity, throwing himself into her path and driving her from it with barrages of blows.

The frustration grew in her eyes clear as day. Panicked, wrathful. Impotent. It fed Crow’s surety even as the agonised wound beneath his ribs sapped strength.

He was stronger than Balogun by far, quicker by a shade and tougher by a mile. More than anything, he was the best fighter he’d ever met. In a brawl there was nothing she could do.

And surely she knows that. He thought, realising the obvious. Balogun would try to use her flames.

Distance control was Crow’s path to victory, if he could keep the girl from separating further, her volatile ability would remain too dangerous to unleash. He could win.

Slapping aside a strike and answering with his own, Crow was unshaken by the prospect.

Balogun fought to flee, and Crow fought to chase. He was everywhere she tried to be, guarding each of her blows, soaking those that slipped by with his armour, answering with his own.

Before long the girl’s movements grew ragged and slow, her breathing heavy and her expression pained. Still she fought, earning Crow’s respect, and still her eyes burned with an unwavering certainty. Earning his concern.

She slowed more, hit ever weaker, shook less stably by the moment on her battered legs. Then, just as Crow prepared to finish the girl once and for all, he caught a Glimpse.

Flames engulfing him, engulfing everything around him. Searing and scorching like acid on his nerves.

He returned to the present, yet froze at what he’d seen. Checked the distance between him and Balogun, certain he must have been too far yet finding it barely a foot.

It was only the sparks forming around her hands that gave Crow warning before the flames unfurled. Her resolve becoming clear.

Fire swallowed him instantly, coating every inch of his body and paralysing it with the pained convulsions of heat torturing flesh. Crow screamed as his eyes shut tight, lids covering the delicate organs beneath on reflex and denying him any semblance of direction.

The world was nothing but fire and pain, but Crow hadn’t the time to bathe in it. Even as the blisters crept across his skin, hair stripping away and fat boiling beneath the epidermis, he had a target.

Crow lunged, but only air met him as he fell to the ground. The flames let up simultaneously, bringing a momentary reprieve as he splayed out in the dirt.

It was just long enough for him to find Balogun stumbling backwards, fire reemerging in her grip. Crow rolled to his feet as the magic fell upon him again, pain returning with a vengeance.

He ran even as heat and light blinded him, holding his arms out wide in the hopes of sweeping his foe whichever way she dodged.

Balogun grazed his fingertips, just barely. Almost impossible to feel through the drowning torment of her magic. It was enough for Crow, he twisted in answer and charged the girl again.

His shoulder found yielding flesh as the two of them shot backwards, rolling and tumbling in the dirt. He screamed as his charring skin was scraped by the fall, agony sprouting anew even in the flame’s absence. But a scream was all Crow spared for his wound.

Balogun was on her knees when he began to climb up, trying to force him down with blows from above. Crow saw burns marring the girl just as they doubtless did him, a clear price for unleashing her fire so close. They did little to stay her hand as she struck, but he recognised the fatigue that had plagued her earlier. Ignored the blows with barely any effort at all and rising in spite of them.

His own punch threw Balogun back to the ground, sent her rolling again as Crow froze with the carpet of pain that danced along him. She seized the chance, crawling away on all fours, trying to build space between them.

Still the agony held Crow in place, but he ignored it with a roar of defiance and stormed after the girl. One blow, he knew, would end the battle. One blow would finish his battered enemy.

Balogun clearly concurred, for she turned to him with terror in her eyes. Hands raised, magic chanelled, face contorted with fear and concentration.

Crow’s strain showed him the fire before it struck, before it even emerged. He persisted in his charge. He’d faltered once already, to do so again would mean defeat.

Grass withered and died in the heat as he came, throwing a final blow with every semblance of strength he still wielded. The fire robbed him of sense again, seeping so deep in its permeating agony that Crow lost the very feeling in his arms.

He didn’t know if his hand still formed a fist when it met resistance, lacked the clarity of sight to so much as see whether it had struck home in his opponent. He only knew that his blow had fallen on something solid.

Soon even the sense of weight and direction was gone. Pain and thought far from his addled mind, oblivion seeping in to wash him clean.

Crow felt an impossible peace as his legs lay touchless beneath him.

The last thought to pass through his head was the wish for victory, burning still in spite of his tortured body and emptied skull. He could only hope the Goddess would hear.