Thepa froze, her body rigid as Zelphina's mocking laughter echoed in her mind. The air around her shimmered with particles of dust caught in the sunlight, swirling in slow motion as if the world itself had paused to watch her unravel. Toward the Spire, Thepa glimpsed a familiar elf making her way toward the chaos. Their eyes locked for a brief, suspended moment, concern etched into every line of the elf's face. But then her gaze flicked past Thepa, settling on the crumpled figure laying at her hooves.

The apparition's green eyes rolled back into her head.

Behind her, Thepa heard the heavy thud of boots pounding against the cobblestones. A female warrior was charging, her eyes locked on Thepa. Had she believed the whole thing real, she might have moved to protect herself, but shock shook her body. Instead, she ever so slightly held out her arms hoping to embrace the oncoming blow wishing the sudden hit might stir her from her slumber; neither of which happened.

Instead, the warrior skidded to her knees beside the fallen figure, her movements frantic compared to the world around them. She winced as her knees hit the ground, muttering something under her breath as her hands hovered over the wounded apparition. The elf was already there, chanting, fingers twisting in the air in a desperate attempt to summon magic. But nothing happened. No spark, no glow, no healing energy.

"What did you expect?" Zelphina's voice slithered. "The wicked deserve neither rest nor good."

Despite herself, Thepa almost laughed. It's just a dream. It has to be.

But the fear in the elf's eyes said otherwise. Her hands moved quickly, lifting the phantom's shirt to reveal a grotesque sight—muscle and bone twisted in unnatural ways, as if the body had been mangled from within. Thepa wasn't an expert, but even she knew the prognosis wasn't good...not that it mattered. It was simply a trick of the mind, another confirmation that the tiny threads keeping it together were starting to unravel.

"It's bad," the elf muttered, her voice strained. "Internal bleeding... cracked, maybe broken ribs. For some reason I can't heal her. Even if I could, if her ribs are broken, I can make the situation worse by healing them without setting them. We need to get her back to the hospital."

The warrior nodded grimly, her blonde hair swinging with the movement. For the first time, Thepa noticed the horns—two sharp, black protrusions curving from the woman's head. With the image, the name Zuna silently crossed her lips snapping the threads of her mind taunt. Synapses started to fire sending rapid signals to her ever-increasing heartbeat. With each passing moment, the world caught up to her at rapid speed. All of a sudden what had only been Zelphina's taunting voice, was now shouts and cries heard all across the street.

"Not a dream, not a dream, not a dream," Thepa said repeating the mantra.

Zuna turned toward her, saying something, but Thepa couldn't hear her. The dam holding back her emotions had burst, and everything she had bottled up for months came crashing down, a flood of rage and pain surging through her veins. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes, but she swallowed them down, her fury rising to the surface like a storm.

And then, in her peripheral vision, she saw him—the merchant. The vile man who had struck Rory, who had dared to touch her sister.

Fire ignited in her chest, hotter than any forge. Every ounce of rage, every drop of grief, fueled her now. Thepa's body moved before her mind could catch up, her voice a raw snarl as she pointed a trembling finger at the cowering merchant.

"You!" she shouted, her voice cracking with fury. "Do you have any idea who that is? I will make you pay for what you've done."

The man backed away, his face drained of color, but it wasn't enough. Fear wasn't enough. Her blood pounded in her ears as she lunged at him, faster than she ever thought possible. Before Zuna or the elf could react, Thepa was on him, her fist connecting with his face in a sickening crunch.

The impact reverberated through her arm, but it wasn't enough. She wanted more.

Again, she told herself. Make him pay. A quick death is too good for him.

A second blow land. Than again and again. She was no longer a captain of Goldale, nor the Matriarch's Daughter, nor even herself. She had become something else entirely—a force of unrelenting wrath, a storm let loose on the world. Fire consumed both her inner and outer being channeling her rage. Each punch sent blood, sweat, and spit flying across the cobblestones. With every strike, she tried to beat down her failures, as if this one violent act could somehow erase them all.

Had Zuna not grabbed her by the waist and yanked her back, Thepa would have killed the man.

But Thepa was far from done. She twisted in Zuna's grip, fury driving her like a wild animal. "Let me go!" she screamed, her voice cracking with rage. "I will kill him! He deserves to die!"

Zuna's grip was tight, though Thepa could feel the matron trembling beneath the strain of holding her back somehow unburned by her ablaze skin. For a brief moment, Thepa considered turning her fury on Zuna instead. But Zuna anticipated her. Yanking Thepa with surprising force, she flipped her through the air, sat her down on her rump, and smacked her across the face, knocking the wind out of her.

"Sister Thepa!" Zuna's voice thundered, cutting through the red fog clouding Thepa's mind.

It was only then that Thepa noticed the sternness in Zuna's face, the hard edge in her voice, and the worried expression on the elf—Wilran, she realized—who stood nearby. The rage and fire that had consumed her began to ebb, replaced by a gnawing sense of guilt. Her breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts as she glanced around. People had gathered, their faces frozen in fear, watching the chaos unfold. Thepa's blood ran cold.

What have I done?

She had nearly killed the man. Worse, she had put Zuna and Wilran in danger, not to mention the bystanders who had done nothing but witness her losing control. Thepa's hands shook as she turned her gaze to Wilran's soft, concerned eyes.

"Your friend needs our help," Wilran said, her soft brown eyes pleading. "I don't know how much longer she has. We need to get her to the hospital—now."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Thepa could feel nothing but shame. How far had she fallen? She had let her anger the best of her, and she had acted irrationally. Embarrassment welled up inside her, and she looked away, only to catch sight of Rory's motionless form lying on the ground. Her chest tightened and helplessness crashed over her.

Thepa's gaze flicked back to Wilran, but she couldn't hold it. The guilt weighed too heavily on her. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to shut out the world.

"Zuna?" Wilran's voice pierced through the darkness.

Zuna quickly responded, pulling Thepa off the ground, flipped her once more, and planted her firmly on her hooves as if the earlier outburst had been nothing.

"Snap out of it," Zuna barked, taking control of the situation. "We need to move. Now! Mr. Fish Merchant? Please run to the hospital and let them know we're coming. Tell them to be ready. Sister Thepa, now is the time to be the Warbol I know you to be. Get yourself together and get that cart," she said pointing to an empty cart. "The three of us can transport her carefully that way. We will need to work together to get her up there."

Surprisingly, Thepa obeyed. She quickly grabbed the empty cart and positioned it next to Rory's still form. With trembling hands, she gently lifted Rory, laying her down on the cart as softly as she could. The lifelessness in her friend's body sent a sharp pang through Thepa's heart, a heavy reminder of all the moments they had shared—the laughter, the late-night confessions, the dreams they had woven together. She felt a surge of panic and quickly shouted at the crowds to clear a path which moved either by the desperation in her voice or the rank on her cap.

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She knew that Rory's fate was out of her hands now, and all she could do was get her to the hospital as quickly as possible. But that didn't stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks as she watched Rory bounce up and down in the cart with every bump in the road.

When the three of them arrived, they were met at the hospital by a wizard and two attendants waiting for them with a bed on wheels. Knowing this was their plan for transferring Rory, Wilran explained the situation.

"We'll take control," the wizard said, pulling a jar from his robes and sprinkling shimmering powder over Rory. He began to cast a spell, his hands moving in precise, practiced motions while ensuring Rory's body remained still. "She's alright to move now. Take her to the healer in room alpha."

Thepa moved to follow, but the wizard's voice stopped her. "I'm sorry, you can't come right now."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Wilran wince, and a surge of anger boiled inside her. Zuna placed a steady hand on her shoulder, but it did little to quell the storm bubbling to the surface.

"I'll damn well come if I want! Do you know who I am?" The words erupted from her, fierce and raw.

The wizard met her gaze steadily. "I do, Captain, but given the circumstances, you have no authority here. I promise you we will do our best to save her, but what is best for her is for you to remain out here." With that, he turned and left.

For a while, no one moved. Wilran and Zuna exchanged glances, but Thepa's gaze remained locked on the door, her heart pounding with helplessness. It wasn't until Thepa started to sob that Zuna finally released her grip. When she did, Thepa collapsed onto a nearby bench and pulled herself up into the fetal position. Now exhausted and emotionally drained, she couldn't believe how quickly things escalated and changed, but more importantly, she couldn't believe how close she had come to losing Rory for a second time.

Time seemed to stretch into hours as Thepa sat, lost in her turmoil. Eventually, Wilran and Zuna settled beside her, Wilran's gentle hand finding her shoulder. She murmured soft words in a language Thepa couldn't understand. A warmness spread from her outstretched palm that reminded Thepa of her homeland. As the sun reached its peak, a line from a of song of her people spoke to her to her soul.

We serve the Beachwick, we live and die.

Death had brushed against Rory once more, and Thepa feared she couldn't withstand its onslaught a third time. "I can't do this again," she murmured, her voice shaky with emotion. "I can't keep losing her." She wiped her tears away, struggling to regain her composure.

Wilran and Zuna exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding, but they said nothing. Instead, Wilran continued to rub her back, offering comfort and solidarity. "Then we will wait here with you, Captain. Let us share your burden." Zuna nodded, and the two of them nestled closer, creating a cocoon of support around Thepa. For a brief moment, she forgot about everything else, feeling grateful for their support.

"There you are."

Thepa turned to see a male halfling, a human, and a Galak approaching. Recognition sparked in her mind. "You must be Elite Team One. I'm so sorry. I forgot about our meeting. I got a little distracted."

Tash, the Galak, shot her an uneasy look. "Everything alright, Captain?"

Thepa took a shaky breath, the weight of the moment settling back on her shoulders. "No," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I will be." She glanced back at the door to the hospital, determination flickering within her. "She will be."

"She?" Asked Tash, in confusion. Thepa started to answer but Wilran came to her rescue.

"The elf we rescued last night was just beaten on the street a while ago. She and the captain appear to be very close."

"Wait..." Thepa said, her heart racing. "Rory was the one you saved last night?" Wilran nodded. "Tell me everything."

"Well..." Wilran began, recounting the events that led to Rory's arrival at the hospital. Thepa listened intently as Wilran explained how they had just come into the city, how they found the elf fleeing from goblins, and how they had carried her to safety. As Wilran finished her story, Thepa's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information. Suddenly, it all made sense. Rory must have been captured and somehow managed to escape.

"So, the attack wasn't on the city. She must have escaped, and they were trying to catch her." Thepa said, voicing her thoughts.

"But why bother at all?" asked the human Julius. "Why not just kill her and be done with it?"

Thepa paused, considering the question. "I'm not sure—relieved, but not sure. She is pretty powerful. Perhaps that has something to do with it?"

"Really?" the halfling Yenry asked, eyes widening with curiosity. "Who is she?"

For the first time in days, a smile crept onto Thepa's face, though it felt foreign. "She would have been glad to hear you say that. She hated the attention her fame often brought her, but to answer your question, she is Aurora Fox, hero of Selmarah, member of Elite Team Zero, High Priestess of Chandeidra."

Suddenly, Wilran scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips. If Thepa didn't know any better, she might have thought the woman to have a bad taste in her mouth. She was about to ask what the matter was, but before she could, Julius pressed his question. "Who is she to you?"

Thepa looked down. "She is my sister."

"What?" Zuna sputtered almost choking on her own spit.

Without looking up, Thepa responded, "I can see how that could be confusing to you. She is my sister not by blood, marriage, clan, or guild; she is my sister by divine providence." The others gave her a confused look, but unsurprisingly, Wilran nodded understandingly. Thepa figured it would be the cleric to figure out that the bonds of faith could be strong in religious orders, even stronger than blood. It reminded her so much of Rory.

Tash cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can move on to discuss our purpose here?"

"Right. It might be better to—" Thepa began to say, but was interrupted by the doors of the hospital opening.

Thepa quickly stood and ran to meet the attendant that addressed the group. "Your friend is stable and awake, but she will need some rest. You'd best not stay too long."

Fat chance of that happening, Thepa thought, but demanded to be taken to her. However, the attendant faltered.

"Well... There seems to be a problem."

Wilran spoke with worry. "Are the wounds more extensive than we thought?"

The attendant shrugged her shoulders. "Well, maybe. We don't know. For some reason, she doesn't know who she is, where she is, how she got here, or really anything at all."

Thepa felt the floor drop out from underneath her. Was it possible there was something worse than Rory's death? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. "Nothing?" she echoed, barely managing to keep her voice steady.

The attendant shook her head. "It took a moment to calm her down, but once we assured her of her safety, she said she couldn't remember anything before today. She remembers waking up here this morning, fearing for her life, escaping through the window, and..."

"And what?" Zuna pressed, a note of urgency lacing her tone.

"Following a woman holding a green bow before being attacked" said the attendant attendant starring past Thepa. "She said the woman saved her."

Thepa's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Rory might still remember her. It was a small glimmer of hope, but one that she was willing to hold onto. "That means she remembers me! Take me to her now."

The attendant nodded and bowed slightly, leading the way into the hospital. They turned right at the station and made their way halfway down the corridor, the walls closing in as tension mounted. "Don't overwhelm her," the attendant cautioned, her voice laced with concern. "Maybe only a few of you go in at once."

Tash motioned to Thepa and Wilran. "You two go ahead. We'll wait out here."

Wilran approached the door but waited for her. Thepa's mind raced with all the memories she and Rory had shared together; from the first time they had met to their parting in the cave. The prospect of living in a world without Rory felt unbearable, and the idea of her friend forgetting everything shattered Thepa's heart.

With trepidation, Thepa finally stepped inside the room where Rory lay in bed, eyes closed. Thepa didn't want to disturb her peace, but at the same time, she was desperate for any sign that things could return to the way they were months ago. She coughed softly to announce her presence, and Rory's eyes snapped open, a moment of panic flitting across her features. But as recognition dawned, her expression softened, and she spoke, "Thank you for saving me."

Carefully, Thepa approached, heart racing as she took a seat in the chair beside the bed, willing her body to still its trembling. She studied Rory, searching for any flicker of familiarity in her friend's gaze, and attempted a comforting smile. "Rory... do you remember me?"

Rory's brow furrowed as she mumbled for a few seconds, but no words came out. After taking a deep breath, she tried again, frustration clouding her features. After failing to form words a third time, Rory looked down and shook her head, the sorrow evident in her eyes.

Thepa sighed, her heart heavy. Unslinging her bow, she held it out, hoping for a connection. "What about this? Do you remember this?"

Rory took the bow, examining it with a look of concentration. "I feel it's important. Is it?"

Thepa nodded, feeling warmth well up inside her. "It's very important, at least to me. You gave it to me many months ago. I always carry it with me."

Rory's gaze faltered; her voice soft. "I'm sorry. I don't remember."

Shifting in anticipation, Wilran interjected. "Ms. Rory, do you remember me or the people with me? We saved you last night."

Rory continued to stare blankly at the wall, lost in her own thoughts. "I'm sorry."

Thepa tried one more time hoping against all hope. "Rory? Best friends grant clemency."

For a heartbeat, their eyes locked—one filled with determination, the other with flickering hope, both with sadness. Thepa reached for Rory's hand, squeezing it gently, her heart racing as she nodded to Wilran. With a silent understanding, Wilran left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as they were alone, Thepa intertwined their fingers and gave Rory the most comforting smile she could muster, even as uncertainty gnawed at her. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing: they would face it together.

"I'm your sister; you can call me Thepa."