Vaela and Surah fled the alley, the footsteps of the priest and priestess echoing in pursuit. As they neared the corner, Surah’s sleeve caught a sill, jutting out from the darkness. It jerked him to a stop and Vaela broke out of her sprint. She doubled back and grabbed his shoulder.

“Come on!”

Their pursuers tore down the alley, rapidly closing the distance. Surah tugged repeatedly before shouting. He jerked his entire body and the edge of the sill cut through fabric and flesh. Blood oozed from the gash on his arm. The priest and priestess, only twenty paces away now, raised their spears.

Vaela and Surah sprinted around the corner.

They wound through the streets, her stick occasionally knocking into walls. Finally, they collapsed in a small alley, almost entirely devoid of light. She struggled to control her wheezing and clasped a hand over her mouth. Air continued to rattle in her chest.

Where were they? Not that it mattered. She peered around the corner into the main street. A single lantern on a distant building cast the only light nearby. The priest and priestess were nowhere in sight. Though that had been the case last time, too.

She slid back and leaned against the wall. “How’d they find us? Thought we’d lost them.”

Surah’s voice emerged from the darkness, a few inches beside her, and interrupted by his still labored breathing. “Yeah… they’re persistent…”

“Maybe they–” Vaela inhaled sharply. She clasped a hand over Surah’s mouth and raised a finger to her lips. She edged to the corner and peered around again.

The priest, followed by the priestess, walked into the main street. How? The man turned around in a circle, scanning the darkened street. Vaela whipped back and pressed flat to the wall. When no shouting erupted, she slid down and looked again. Surah stood over her and peeked as well.

The priest bent down to the street. His head bobbed a few times, almost as if…

Was he sniffing?

The man turned his head in their direction, his eyes still closed. Vaela and Surah jolted back and crept away from the street. By the bloody Pits, the man could Smell them.

Surah grabbed her arm and whispered, “They have a literal Blood hound.”

She shot him a withering look, but it was probably lost on him in the darkness. She nudged him down the alley. “Check it out.”

He tiptoed to the end of the alley and came back a few moments later. “It’s a dead end.”

No way out. She tightened her grip on her walking stick. They’d have to make a break for it.

She peered around the corner again. The priest was still on the far end of the street, but drawing nearer. The blonde priestess trailed him, tapping her staff along the street, the sharpened point of her Ice spear winking in the lantern’s light.

Surah joined her and leaned in. “On three.” He held up a hand, a trickle of blood running down his forearm. “One… two…”

“Wait!” She pushed him back into the alley and fished the coin out of her pocket.

“What is it?”

Vaela grabbed Surah’s bleeding arm by the wrist. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Would you… would you Sacrifice to me?”

He drew back and cocked his head. “What for? You can’t use Heat.”

True. Tapping into a Charmed item didn’t grant you that Power. It was too foreign. Even if she could bend the Heat to her will, she’d be as likely to hurt herself as her attacker. Right?

But why had she been able to throw Fire?

The tapping of the priestess’s Ice spear ticked closer. They were running out of time. Vaela held up the coin and mouthed, “Please.”

Surah slowly nodded. Vaela placed her hand on his arm and held the coin under. She’d never used his blood before. It felt oddly intimate. His blood called to her. She met his eyes and nodded. He set his jaw and she squeezed his arm. Blood ran together, dangling for a second before a few drops fell.

His Power was mild–she’d felt far stronger, far wilder–but his Warmth ran through her, comforted her. Yes, this was Surah. Her dear friend. She felt the blood land on the coin and she tamed his Power with her own. The blood soaked into the coin, Infusing it with Heat.

A chill ran through her as it always did when she was Forging. For a moment, she felt it. Control–even as the world around her spun wildly to its own unknowable rhythm. This, she could control. This, she could bend to her will.

Surah’s arm jerked and Vaela’s eyes shot open. A few drops of blood landed on the Coin, outlining the frog in red. She released his arm and he massaged his forearm. She’d taken more than she meant. Strange, that hadn’t happened in a long time, not since she was young and just learning to use her Power.

She pocketed the Coin and regripped her stick. They made eye contact again. She mouthed, “Butcher”. He nodded and held up a finger. She tensed her legs, her palms slick with sweat. By the tapping of the priestess’s staff, they were approaching the alley now. This was it.

Surah held up two fingers. Vaela raised her stick up, ready to ward off a strike to the head. One last burst. They’d escape and be able to hide properly. They’d be laughing about this in just a few minutes.

They’d be fine.

Surah bolted from the alley. “Go!”

She sprinted out after him. The priest and the priestess, only a few paces away, both jumped back. They lowered their spears towards Surah and her and charged.

Surah and Vaela curved around them and Surah raced off to the left, while Vaela continued straight.

“After them! You follow the girl!”

Vaela fled down the street. A single set of footsteps pounded behind her. She cut around a building and turned down a side street immediately, glancing back. The priestess rounded the corner and ran towards her. She was fast!

The priestess whipped something out of her pocket. It’s sheen reflected in the light. Vaela sprinted down the road, the woman’s footsteps relentlessly drawing nearer. Something glinted in front of her the moment before she stepped on it. Her foot slipped off a disc and she stumbled a step before crashing into the ground.

Pain shot through her shoulder, but she rolled to her feet and raised her stick. The priestess skidded to a stop a few feet away and assumed a fighting stance, hands spaced in thirds along the spear, the Ice tip gleaming to a wicked point. Vaela edged back, catching sight of what tripped her. An Ice disc, now cracked and already melting, laid in the street.

The priestess jabbed her spear towards Vaela. “Surrender. Put down your stick and come with me.”

Vaela cringed back and batted at the spear, but it didn’t come close enough to her. “Screw that! You’ll have to drag me back and I’ll go all limp and make it really hard for you.”

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“Just… come back. You can’t escape her.” The tip of the spear dropped a few inches. “You’ll never escape Kaverlna.”

“Why do you follow that psycho?” Vaela took another step back. The priestess came forward and swiped at her side. Vaela twisted and blocked, her hands wide on her stick. The metal thwacked off the wood, sending a jolt through Vaela’s arms and making her shoulder twinge. The priestess twirled the spear over Vaela’s head and slammed the flat of the tip into Vaela’s other side. She cried out as sharp pain bit into her ribs.

Vaela stumbled and caught herself. The spear whipped towards her again and she barely blocked. The impact ripped her stick from her hands and sent it skittering across the street. The priestess leveled the spear at Vaela’s face, stopping it a few inches away from the bridge of her nose. Vaela instinctively grabbed it by the shaft and turned her head, though the priestess made no effort to thrust it forward.

Vaela backed up two steps and the priestess matched her, keeping the spear at head height.

The priestess angled the head of the spear downward and Vaela flinched down, her knees buckling. She fell to the ground and the priestess stood over her. Despite her dominant position, her eyes were almost pleading. “Come back. Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Vaela shoved the spear away with one hand, using the other to grab the Coin from her pocket. Warmth pulsed from within it. “You think taking me back to Kaverlna won’t hurt me?” She needed a distraction. “You don’t seem too fond of the Church, either. Won’t don’t you leave?” She Tapped into the Coin, trying to draw upon its Power. The Warmth wriggled away from her, like trying to grab an eel.

“I-I can’t. You can’t. Kaverlna will find you. She’ll never let you go.” The woman’s shoulders sagged and the pressure directing the spear towards Vaela lessened.

Vaela stopped trying to Tap into the Coin. She stared up into the woman’s eyes. They were light blue. Beautiful. Frost blossomed from her mouth as she panted from the exertion of the fight. Despite that, her lips looked soft. Maybe they’d be deceptively warm?

“Come with me. My friend and I have a hiding place, somewhere the Church can’t find us. After that, we can leave.”

The pressure on the spear lessened further. Tiny reverberations quivered through its length, up from the woman’s hands. Her heartbeat. Vaela could almost feel her blood, kissed by the Cold, questing for warmth. The Coin pulsed in her hand and the Warmth inside slid within her grasp. It Flowed through her chest and into her hand that held the staff, longing to Warm the priestess.

“I… I can’t leave. It’s too dangerous.”

“No. You don’t have to serve her.”

“You don’t underst–” The priestess’s eyes focused on the tip of the spear. A bead of water trickled to the tip. Her eyes widened.

Vaela shook her head. “No! It’s not, I’m not trying to–”

The priestess re-tightened her grip and her eyes hardened with hurt. “You were just…”

“No, I meant it!” What had happened? She hadn’t tried to use the Warmth. She Reached into the Coin, searching for a way to control it. The Warmth slipped out of her mind’s grasp.

Ice crept up the staff and the priestess pushed the spear towards Vaela’s head once again. Vaela grunted as she struggled to keep it back. She wasn’t strong enough with just one hand.

The Ice reached Vaela’s fingers, burning with cold. It slid under her hand and extended to the tip, hardening it and extending the point closer to Vaela. The priestess swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you. Come with me, join the Church. I’ll help you there. We could still…”

Vaela shied away from the Ice tip. She needed her other hand. She shoved the Coin between her front teeth and braced her other hand. Even with both hands, the shaft of the spear, now slick with Ice, slid further and the tip neared her face. The priestess’s eyes pleaded with her.

Would it be so bad? Together, they would figure something out. And she’d learn how to use her Power even more.

That Power…

No. She couldn’t drink of that fount. Because what if she liked it? The taste of Power.

Her tongue flicked out automatically, touching the tip of the Coin. A burst of metallic flavor, the brass of the Coin. And something else. Coppery.

She swallowed and Heat flushed through her body. The Warmth in the Coin leapt out to her and she shoved all of it down her arms. Burning pain ripped through her body and erupted from her hands. The Ice under her fingers melted and she found purchase on the metal shaft once again. She shouted as the pain seared through her palms and she shoved the spear away.

The priestess fell back and Vaela stumbled over to her stick. She spat the Coin into a hand and shoved it into her pocket. Her raw hands gripped her stick weakly. She and the priestess faced each other, her stick raised while the priestess’s limp arms kept her staff at waist-height. Vaela’s hands shook, the pain receding, though a deep ache lingered. She took a step towards the priestess. “I-I meant it. Come with us.”

The priestess stepped back and shook her head. She looked from the melted Ice to Vaela’s hands in horror. “You’re just like her.”

“No–”

“You’re the same. Blood thirsty for Power.”

“No!”

Ice hardened up the length of the staff and the priestess pointed it at her, her knuckles white. “Drop your weapon. Surrender.” The Ice jutted in uneven jags along the staff. “No more words. No more tricks. No more lies.”

“I wasn’t–”

“Surrender!” The Ice lengthened the tip of the spear, almost opaque from the density of the Ice. The priestess stepped forward.

Vaela turned and ran down the street. The priestess’s footsteps soon fell behind and then stopped all together. As Vaela turned the corner, she caught sight of the woman. She was on both knees in the street, spear held loosely in one hand, shoulders sagging as if weighed down by great chains.

Even without her in pursuit, Vaela ran all the way to the butcher’s shop. By the time she arrived, her entire body burned from her lungs to her legs to her aching hands. The bitter smell of meat and old blood permeated the area.

Surah was nowhere in sight. She collapsed against the wall, leaning her stick beside her, and pressed her hands to her eyes. The sweat from her brow stung her raw palms. She pulled her hands back and stared at them. They shook from the adrenaline. Her palms were red. That Heat. She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms, sending clarifying pain up her arms.

Anything to distract from the taste in her mouth. Of Surah’s blood.

Of Power.

The horror etched into the blonde priestess’s face flashed through her mind.

But she hadn’t done it on purpose! And even if she had, on some level, wanted to tap into the Heat–not like that. Not if it meant drinking Surah’s life. Not like Kaverlna.

She snatched her stick and ran her fingers over it. The burning sensitivity in her fingertips made the once familiar knurls feel strange, almost new. But no… her stick wasn’t what was different.

She tightened her grip, her hands groaning in protest, but she squeezed all the harder. Yeah, maybe she was different now, but dammit she was still her! She pushed off the wall and slammed the tip of the stick to the ground. She’d do what it took to survive! And to protect her friends.

And where in Pits was Surah?

Had the priest caught him? He hadn’t seemed that fast, clearly relying more on his sense of Smell to track people. Vaela wrinkled her nose. No chance of that here, at least. The butcher’s shop more than covered any other scent.

Besides, Surah was a slippery fish. It wasn’t his first time running from authorities. But, just in case, she’d get help.

Vaela pulled the Coin out and turned it over in her fingers. Only a glimmer of Warmth remained within. A few drops of blood crusted the frog emblem and she closed her hand around it.

She banged her fist into the door a few times. A few moments passed and then the door opened. A pudgy man, hood drawn over his face, peered at her. She held up the coin and he snatched it.

“How’d you get this?”

“Uh, Timura. She invited me.”

The man groaned and opened the door. He waved her inside quickly and slammed the door shut as soon as she stepped through. “That damn girl, no respect for secrecy. Not like this is a social meeting.” He pointed Vaela to a door in the back behind the meat counter and continued to grumble to himself.

She walked across the store and to the door which led to a flight of stairs. The din of casual conversation wafted up. Good, there were other people here. And probably most weren’t too fond of the Church of Blood. Hopefully she could recruit one or two of them to go back up and help her search for Surah. With any luck, they’d accept her services as a Charmer as payment. These occult types were always looking for ‘talismans’.

The temperature dropped as she descended the stairs. She stepped into a large storage room, meat hanging on hooks throughout the space. A little more than a dozen people were clustered in groups of three or four. On the far end, Timura tidied up a small table fashioned from two crates stacked on top of each other. Her supplies–a vial of blood, a bowl, a whip, and some candles–were distributed on her makeshift table.

Vaela approached the nearest group. “Hey, would any of you be looking to kick some Church ass?”

“Vaela?”

She spun around, whipping her stick into a defensive position. Surah waved at her, his other hand holding a drinking horn. He strode over, taking a generous gulp on the way. He offered her the horn and clapped her on shoulder. “Wha’ took ya s’long?”

She snatched the horn from him. “I was getting the shit beat out of me by that hot blonde priestess! Are you drunk? How long have you been here?”

He threw an arm around her shoulders, leaning much of his weight on her. “Grand, just grand, THANK YOU! Oh, wonderful people. Lemme right in.” He wagged a finger in her face. “I told ‘em I know Timmy, uh, Timmy… Timura!”

This bastard, making her worry. Vaela took a long drink of the horn, draining every drop of mead left. “I thought you might be hurt, you jerk.”

He shooed her concerns away and swept a hand towards Timura. “Come. Lemme introduce you to the star of this orgy.”

Vaela untangled herself from Surah. “This isn’t an orgy! I told you, this is a mystic group. Or something like that.”

“In my, uh, extensive experience, they’re one ‘n the same!”

“Well, this isn’t–”

Timura cracked the whip in the air. Everyone fell silent and turned towards her. She placed the whip down and grabbed the lapels of her robe. “Please gather around. I’ll begin in just a minute.” She pulled her robe open and dropped it to the floor, revealing her naked body.