Thepa's mind was a blur of fear and desperation as she sprinted towards the horde of goblins. On the one hand, she was terrified - terrified of what would happen to Rory, to the town, to herself. On the other, she knew that she was risking everything by charging headlong into battle one verses hunderds, but for some reason, she felt like it was the only thing she could do. She couldn't bear the thought of losing Rory, and while this might not have been her Rory, it was still a Rory she wasn't going to lose, not after everything either one of them had been through.

At some point, her lungs began to burn. Her desperation and fear quickly turned into anger, and everything around her disappeared. The only thing in focus was Rory's face, covered in sweat and anguish. A single-minded purpose took over Thepa, a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She completely missed the volley of arrows that descended down upon Rory's position, but she didn't care. In that moment, a warm glow of magic surrounded her igniting her skin, and Thepa dropped her daggers, ready to die for or with her friend. No longer would the taunts of her dreams hold her back. If this was what she was created for, she would willingly give her life for the sister she loved.

When the two collided, Thepa swiftly pulled Rory down and covered her with her own body. The glowing fire that Thepa had started to know surrounded them both as a sea of goblins swarmed all around them. Despite the onslaught of steel and flesh, the radiant shield held, deflecting every blow. She was sure it wouldn't last long, so she pushed herself off the ground and released her grip on Rory. The mounting weight of goblin bodies clawed at the rapidly diminishing protection, but it gave way enough for Rory to turn over.

Rory's face was contorted in pain, her breathing shallow and erratic. Somehow, Thepa pushed the weight of the goblins up another two inches, not sure how she was even lifting it as high as she was. It was a super-Saintian, but where it came from was anyone's guess. Too consumed in everything else that had happened to her, she hadn't even had a moment to process it. Either way, it did the job.

Relief flooded Rory's face, and she shifted, finally looking up. Thepa continued to stare down into her green eyes as sweat or tears dripped onto Rory's face. Knowing this was going to be their last moment, Thepa made sure not to regret it.

"I love you sister," Thepa said, muttering under her breath. "Even if you don't remember it, thank you for loving me."

Rory furrowed her brow as the last of the magic left Thepa's body. She felt the small pricks of steel and claw, and a low rumble made its way across the ground. Despite the chaos, Thepa's only concern was for Rory's safety. She could feel her hands shaking and her arms growing tired. As Rory closed her eyes, she gave Thepa a weak smile, which quickly faded as her eyes reopened, now a deep shade of purple.

"Rory?"

The goblins surrounding them began to scatter, pushing and shoving one another in their frenzy to escape. The weight on Thepa's back lifted, and she collapsed to the ground beside Rory. The sky turned black as the rumbling grew more violent, but Thepa's focus was only on the woman in front of her.

Suddenly, Rory rose from the ground, her body weightless as if gravity itself no longer applied. Her once tangled auburn hair, which had been her signature look, now transformed into long, sleek purple locks that shimmered in the light, whipping furiously in the wind; charged with its own power. The air around her crackled, pulsing in time with the sky as clouds churned overhead, rising to her rising fury.

Her eyes, glowing with a dangerous intensity, narrowed, and her presence radiated vitriol. Every ounce of rage and power she held within, since Thepa found her a week ago presented its release. As she lifted herself effortlessly into the sky with a single hand, her arm stretched out, fingers trembling, drawing the chaotic energy swirling above into a focused point.

Then, a single word escaped her lips—softly spoken, yet it cut through the air like a blade, reverberating in every ear for miles. The sound was impossibly sharp, chilling, and carried with it the weight of an unstoppable ancient force. Every creature within range froze, the force of her voice anchoring them to the spot.

"No."

The moment the word left her lips, bolts of lightning erupted from her outstretched hand, branching out in jagged, uncontrollable arcs. Each bolt of magic lashed across the field, striking the goblin horde with merciless precision.

Thepa flinched instinctively as the magic crackled toward her, the sound of it ripping through the air like thunder. She turned away, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath in terror. The sheer power behind the spell was suffocating, her skin prickling as a thousand needles danced across it. Her hair stood on end, charged by the residual energy pulsing through the ground beneath her hooves, but the magic didn’t touch her. Instead, it moved past, leaving her unharmed.

Slowly, Thepa dared to open her eyes, her breath still caught in her chest. She blinked in disbelief at the carnage before her. The goblins—once a seething, snarling mass—had been utterly obliterated. Not a single one remained standing. Their bodies lay scattered across the field, charred beyond recognition, twisted into grotesque shapes by the force of the magic. Smoke rose from their lifeless forms, the scent of burnt flesh thick in the air. Their crude metal weapons had melted into pools of slag, useless remnants of their short-lived assault.

Above her, Rory continued to float, pulsing with energy as she surveyed her work with fiery purple eyes. She twisted her hands in a rhythmic fashion, summoning a black mask with swirls, inching to put it on. Thepa took a step back in surprise, nearly bumping into Wilran, who had made it over to them in the midst of the chaos. The elf ignored Thepa completely, sidestepping her hooves, stepping only a foot in front of her. A look of awe overcame her face, and Thepa didn't know if she was about to flee in terror or bow in reverence. When Wilran spoke, Thepa assumed it was the latter.

"Such power; like the Goddess herself."

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to gather Rory's attention back towards the ground. Her purple eyes made contact with Thepa's then squinted, flaring flaring her nostrils. Rory starred Thepa down. Energy started to spark out of her free hand as the other dropped the forgotten mask to her side. She aimed a finger at Thepa ready to release the magic within.

"Rory?" Thepa asked disbelieving what she had just seen. Her friend, who had been weak and helpless just moments ago, had transformed into a powerful sorceress capable of annihilating an entire horde of goblins with a single word. A primal urge admonished her to run, to flee before it was too late and she, too, became a charred corpse. If it were anyone else, she might have, but this was her sister and her heart protected them both. She was not afraid, not of Rory. She would never be afraid of Rory. Love fueled her heart. Rory needed to know that.

"You're safe now."

The words hung in the air, soft but certain, a lifeline in the midst of vitriol and chaos. Slowly, the anger that had contorted Rory's face began to soften. The tension melted from her features, the raw energy flickering in her hand dimming to a faint glow before extinguishing altogether. She lowered her arm slowly, her breathing steadier, more controlled. As her hand fell, the mask vanished, leaving behind the Rory Thepa had always known.

The change was mirrored in the world around them. The violent winds stilled, and the dark, churning clouds that had loomed overhead cleared, revealing the horizon once more. With the fading of the wind, Rory's eyes rolled back into her head, her hair returning to normal; now released from the magic's thrall.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

It was all over.

Rory fell from the air. Instinctively, Wilran moved to catch her; oblivious to the carnage around her. For her efforts, she was rewarded by tripping over a burnt goblin, barely managing to miss face planting into another. However, Thepa moved with precision. She managed to catch Rory's falling body without a single hand or foot dropping to the ground. Wilran quickly picked herself up to help her, but Thepa waved her off asking her instead to retrieve her own dropped weapons. This was her task. Her own words echoed in her head.

You're safe now.

By then, the villagers had emerged from behind their walls to survey the carnage. Thepa imagined it would be difficult for them to process what happened and silently hoped they would not ask questions. The group needed to spend some time recovering from the day's events if they were going to travel back to Wildehaven soon, instead of fielding the questions she didn't know how to answer.

Finding it best to make the first move, Thepa addressed the townsfolk. "Which one of you is in charge here?"

An elderly halfling who stood in the middle of the crowd addressed her. "I am. How did this happen?" he said as he gestured to the sea of dead goblins.

Good, she thought. They didn't know. That would make things easier. "This woman is the High Priestess of Chandeidra. My guess is she must have prayed to the moon goddess for intervention."

The elderly man stepped forward for a closer look. "That's Madam Aurora?"

"You know her?" Thepa asked.

He fell to his knees and bowed, all while pulling a moon-shaped necklace out from underneath his shirt. It had similarities to her own, but Thepa had studied hers enough to know the love that went into it.

"My apologies to the High Priestess's cohort," he said. "It had been a few completions since we last saw her." As the rest of the crowd realized what was going on, they too started to fall to their knees.

Uncomfortably, Wilran addressed Thepa, "We need to rest to regain energy. There is no way we can handle another assault." Thepa nodded and turned to Yenry.

"Did you hear back from Wildehaven?"

"Yes, they are on the way," Yenry replied.

"Good," Thepa said relieved. It wasn't until then she realized she had tensed her shoulders. "Then we should move on ourselves. Master Fisherman? Do you have a boat that could take us to Wildehaven?"

"Yes," he said getting back on his feet. "Get the Dinghy. We leave immediately."

The team followed them inside the town as Thepa pondered the events which led them here. Never in any of their time together had she seen Rory channel that much raw energy. It was possible that Rory had learned magic from the prophetess or even in her own personal studies that Thepa wasn't aware of, but that wasn't even what bothered her about it. What bothered her was the kind of magic Rory had just displayed. Although Thepa was familiar with the finer points of spellcasting, it wasn't what she considered good magic.

The more she thought about it, the more she considered what Einkidi had told her regarding the source of her magic. Even though divine magic was channeled through a deity, it still required the innate magic which lingered in the individual being. If Einkidi was right, Thepa guessed magic took on both the characteristics of the deity granting the magic and the personality of the spellcaster. It was possible the individual spell cast had more to do with Rory than the goddess Rory worshipped. If that was the case...well, she didn't want to consider what that might mean.

She was spared her own thoughts when the group had arrived at the docks. In front of her was a gangplank leading onto one of the largest ships Thepa had ever seen. Her eyes followed the mast and rigging up to touch the sky. Crew members were leaping from rope to rope unfurling the snowy white sails in preparation for their journey, and an old brass nameplate on the side of the ship read Dinghy.

Boarding as carefully as she could with Rory still wrapped in her arms, Thepa moved towards the front of the boat. Near the taffrail, someone had constructed a bench currently occupied by a halfling around fifteen completions lazily fishing the calm waters. Seeing her predicament, the male stood up, gave her a warm smile, then left leaving behind a tacklebox.

"Captain Thepa?" asked Wilran running to catch up to her. "Has Rory ever done anything like that before?"

Thepa began to set Rory down while using an extra tunic as a pillow to prop up her head. "Nothing like that no, but ..." she trailed as she realized she had seen Rory do something similar. And just like last time, she had been holding a mask.

Wilran looked at her in anticipation. "But what?"

Thepa sighed and hesitated for a moment. "But the last time I saw Rory do something close to that, she also had the Mask of Chandeidra."

Puzzled, Wilran inquired about the mask. "The mask she had in her hand?"

Thepa nodded trying not to wince at the unpleasant memory. "It's hard to explain, but a few months ago, I saw Rory use that mask on a friend of ours. It was ... terrifying. The raw power emanating from it almost brought me to my knees as if Chandeidra herself spoke through it. Whoever it was, it certainly wasn't Rory."

Wilran mouthed the word 'Mask' but didn't say anything coherent. Instead, she looked at the ground and moved her jaw as if she was talking to herself. Thepa went back to the task of making Rory comfortable, but was once more interrupted.

"Sister Thepa," Zuna called, waving a letter in her hand. "News from the Beachwick. You need to read this."

"What is it?" she asked, noticing the urgency in Zuna's voice, but inwardly, her heart sank. If the Beachwick wanted to contact her, they could. Thepa suspected the only reason they would have used Zuna was if things required immediate attention. She didn't know for sure, but she suspected this was the reason Zuna was chosen for Elite Team One.

As she read, Wilran continued, "What did Rory do to your friend while using the mask?"

Matron Zuna,

Sister Zelphina's coup against the Matriarch was successful. The Matriarch's location currently is unknown. Sister Vivian is in prison. Myself and a large contingent of the Skirret are on the run in the jungle. We need to act fast before Zelphina's power is solidified. Contact Sister Thepa. Come to the Beachwick.

Sister Onna

Thepa read the letter, ignoring Wilran's question. It was worse than she feared. "When did you get this?" she demanded.

"I understand how you feel," said Zuna. "This couldn't have come at a worse time. What are your orders?"

Thepa thought for a moment before responding. "Have the boat sail for the Esha outpost. Contact Sister Onna and let her know I will be making port in two days. Have her meet me there. After you drop me off, I will need the five of you to take Rory back to Wildehaven and do your best to find out what is going on with her, but you will have to tread lightly. Tell what you saw only to Mistress Deeprabbit.

As Zuna stepped away. Thepa turned back to Wilran visibly frustrated. Why is all of this happening to me? she thought to herself. In anger, she swore.

"What's going on?" Wilran probed.

Thepa handed over the letter. "My...the Beachwick's in trouble. I am going to have to intervene."

Wilran took the note and read. "What are we going to do?"

For a while, Thepa didn't speak. Instead, she looked off towards the southern sea and felt a wave of conflicting emotions. The waves gently rocked the boat back and forth, reminding her of the times she would stare at the eastern docks, wondering what lay beyond the rocky shore. She couldn't deny the beckoning call of home any longer. For too long, she had been running away from her birthright, seeking solace in the chaos of the world. But perhaps, she now realized, all that turmoil had been leading her back to the Beachwick. She couldn't ignore the call any longer, even if it meant risking everything to defend her homeland. A sense of clarity and purpose washed over her, and she knew that now was the time to be the satyr she was born to be.

"I don't know how much you can do. Unfortunately, Goldale cannot interfere as a coup is a matter of state. The treaties are written as such they will help with invasion, not change of governments or insurrection."

Wilran raised a brow. "What if we want to help anyway?"

It was a kind gesture that Thepa appreciated. Still, it wasn't the team's fight. She would have to do it on her own. The law of the Beachwick demanded it. If the team helped, they could all be killed or worse. "I can't make you do that."

Wilran walked away. For a brief moment, Thepa let her leave. She needed to process what was going on, but could tell by Wilran's disposition she wasn't going to let this go. Deciding it was better to do something sooner, rather than later, she followed Wilran to the galley and overheard a heated argument.

"We have to help her," Wilran said loud enough to penetrate the wooden door.

"I'm not sure we do," argued Julius. "Governments are always changing. Isn't this just the new regime? Would it be right for us to interfere?"

Zuna interjected, her voice firm. "It's more than that. It's Sister Thepa's birthright. She will go with or without our help ... and so will I. It is my home. I will defend it from any enemy, even the ones inside."

"Perhaps we should put it to a vote," Wilran said.

"And what if one of us chooses to go against the wishes of the majority?" Queried Julius.

"Then you wouldn't be much of a team."