The dust hung thick in the air, diffusing the last shards of the dying sunlight, casting an otherworldly haze over them. Rachel straightened in the midst of it all, her figure cutting a stark silhouette against the sun-drenched fog.

Her hammer rested against her shoulder, the eruption of kinetic force it had released still leaving a sharp crack in the minds of those she’d snatched. With a quick, sharp inhale, she moved like a shadow, slipping through the haze with deadly purpose. Each step was measured, and her figure seemed to blur and sharpen as she advanced.

The haze and shadows coiled around her, amplifying the lunar glow that pulsed faintly from her skin. The remaining bandits, guards, and merchants froze, drawn to her spectral passage through the dust. Nia ran beside her, light as a whisper, her graceful form blending into the swirling, dirty mist like a spirit.

Mere seconds after landing, she was right in front of the leader, her glowed eyes burning into his like twin eclipses, cold and unyielding. Nia shoved every man beside him in one fluid attack, spinning to a stop behind the bandit Rachel had trapped in her gaze.

Her voice cut through the haze, a low, measured, his defiant eyes melting into terror as her focus zeroed in on him like a tightening noose. “Who leads you?”

The man’s face drained of color, his hands shaking as he held his ground, or at least tried to. He couldn’t break eye contact, yet she could see it in his eyes; there was no opposition.

“W-What are you?” he stammered, voice breaking. “A demon? A devil from below the sands?”

Rachel’s lips didn’t twitch as she watched the fear take root, watched him realize just how hopeless his situation was. Head tilting to the side, her illuminated irises never left him, her voice smooth as steel.

“You’re not far off…but not what I asked,” she growled, the haze spreading out around them as the sound of battle soon resumed, El Santo’s boisterous voice filling the obscured field as bandits were flung every which way with the folk hero’s entry into the fray.

Flipping her hammer off her back, the spiked flat portion came down on a bandit’s back El Santo threw her way. Instantly, all air was flushed from his lungs, the bandit gagging while being drilled into the cracked road. All while, Rachel’s intense stare never left the man’s.

“Last chance,” she warned, Nia’s hand tightening on the man’s shoulder from behind, making him flinch and drop his sword. Her hammer lifted, crimson liquid dripping off it as she returned it to her shoulder. “Speak, or I’ll find someone who will give me the right answer.”

The man’s defiance crumbled, his voice trembling as he began to nod, barely managing to choke out, “I’ll…I’ll take you… Please, don’t kill me! I—”

Target secured moments after entering the battle and scattering opposition, she grabbed him by the neck and guided him back as the scene exploded back into motion.

The dust was swept away by the whirlwind El Santo generated a ways off, the faces of two bandits held in both hands. He loomed like a fortress among the fray, rallying guards and helpless merchants to him as he charged forward, corralling the remaining bandits with Grace now by his side.

“Ain’t no sense hidin’, boys! C’mon, let’s dance!” Her laughter echoed as she wielded a lasso like lightning, pulling them toward the legendary folk hero. “Got another one for ya, sweetie!”

El Santo caught the bandit Grace pulled in with a wide grin, effortlessly lifting the struggling man off his feet. With a wink at her, he spun in place, using the dazed bandit as a makeshift battering ram to send another attacker sprawling. His laughter boomed across the battlefield, infectious and bold, a rallying cry as much as a taunt.

“¡Amigos! Stand firm and let none of these villains escape!” He charged into the fray once more, radiating strength and confidence as his broad form became a beacon amid the lingering dust. His hands shot out, seizing two more bandits, their terrified expressions locked on his unyielding grin as he tossed them into a pile for the guard to round up.

“Señorita, I believe I have some more willing to confess their sins,” he called out to Grace, his words layered with a hint of dark humor. As another bandit attempted to slip by, he whirled to catch him, pinning the man’s arms with ease and giving a nod to Grace.

Grace flashed him a quick grin, her lasso snapping out to ensnare him. “Good work, big fella! How ‘bout I round ‘em up, and you give ‘em a proper lesson in manners?”

Her laugh was like the crack of a whip, and with deft precision, she spun him in a circle, the rope digging into his skin before releasing him to crash into the others. He didn’t hesitate, leaping high into the air, capturing all eyes as he came down onto the pile up, his weight and kinetic force forcing the air from their lungs.

“Listen well, amigos,” he murmured, as a bandit with a sword rushed him. The folk hero bounced up, his ironclad grip closed around a bandit’s throat while tanking a slash from the bandit’s sword without injury. “You’re facing something beyond your understanding. If you have any sense left, you’ll pray the terrifying hare doesn’t lose her patience.”

Rachel barely acknowledged the exchange as she passed the pair, taking control of the situation; the remaining dozen ran toward the city or their horses. The hellhound pups made their presence known, darting in and out of the shadows with glee, their flames igniting all those who had spilled blood to drag their souls to Hades.

Thalia’s fiery paws scorched the sand as she tore into a bandit’s cloak, her teeth bared in a wide, mischievous grin. Irida prowled around her, pinning down any who dared move from their disarmed position, her red eyes flashing with fierce joy. Aleka went after another who was just about to take the life of a merchant, her form crackling with green energy as she launched at his jugular, taking him to the ground to burn.

Terror wasn’t only on the bandit’s faces as Rachel tossed the leader into a wagon, the man’s wide eyes watching the green flames of Aleka capture the soul of one of his men. In all intents and purposes, she was a devil at this moment.

Grace and El Santo took a more moderate ‘folk hero’ like approach in not killing their targets while the Cerberus Sisters’ merciless activity sent the remainder flooding to the pair for mercy and protection.

She spoke without a hint of mercy to the leader, a merchant quaking atop his wagon as she directed the man to climb on. “Unless you want to find out what it’s like to be buried alive out here, with nothing but the insects to keep you company and sun to melt your flesh from your bones, I suggest you comply.”

“Please…a-anything but that,” he choked as the pups jumped forward, eyeing him with bright, flaming eyes. “Y-Yes! Okay! I’ll do whatever you ask!”

“The battle is done. We need a ride,” she stated to the merchant, her voice unyielding as stone. “Can you accommodate us?”

“O-Of course,” he stammered, looking out across the dimming road, bodies now lining it. “Are you friends or…sand devils here to take us to Jahannam?”

“Neither… Just a pissed off woman who is passing through,” Rachel mumbled, dismissing her hammer in a pulse of light that made the bandit leader flinch. “I’m sorry for your losses before we came upon you. We’ll help you get to the city. Thalia, Irida, Aleka… The ones who ran are all yours.”

The leader curled inward as a devilish gleam lit in the hellhounds’ eyes, and they became a streak of fire across the sands. Nia moved to support El Santo, Grace, and the guards as the remaining bandits dropped their weapons and surrendered, pleading to not be burned alive. She hopped up to sit beside him, not feeling like talking.

El Santo glanced around as the people began to vanish in the flames of Hades, souls, body and all, sinking into the river styx. His bright smile became somewhat somber, performing a cross over his chest. “Que el señor tenga piedad de tu alma.”

He exchanged a quick glance with Grace, his voice dropping low enough for her to hear as the guards bound the bandits, spitting on them or kicking them with venom.

“I see Rachel has…a certain moral code of her own. Though I disagree, I will respect the chain of command that is given. Do you agree with these…extreme tactics?”

Grace shot him a helpless grin, her lasso closing up to sling over her arm before vanishing in a pulse of red light. She took out a flask from Jim’s pouch, watching the cleanup around them.

“Sometimes varmints need to be put down, darlin’. I reckon we saved more lives showin’ force than if this played out with less intensity. These are the types to only respond to power after all. Gotta meet ‘em where they’re at, ya know?” She pulled out another cowboy hat and set it on his head before flicking the edge. “Sorry, handsome. I agree with the boss.”

El Santo sighed, adjusting the item as the falling rays of the sun hit him once more, his powerful standing tall for everyone to notice with his aura of authority and calm strength.

“There is indeed a time for such action to defend the lives of the innocent…” he murmured under his breath, watching the pups drag bandits down from their horses in the distance, igniting them in hellfire. “Actions have consequences. Lead on, Señorita Rachel.”

The settling dust clung to Rachel’s skin underneath her outfit like a second cloak as the final bandits were either rounded up or dragged off by the hellhound pups, their eerie, spectral flames illuminating the landscape in flashes of green. blue, and red.

Amidst the echo of dying screams and El Santo’s murmured prayers for their souls, yet these were going to a different type of hell. She tilted her head, catching a faint murmur at the edge of her hearing: Green. She’d stepped into the realm, and in an entirely separate location than they’d come in from. Her voice drifted through the open desert air like a whispered secret.

Green’s team was making good progress, already slipping over the outer walls on the opposite side of the city. They spoke in hushed tones about their next steps, the Fable hare keeping her updated on the progress now that they were in earshot, and Rachel’s lips curved into a small, grim smile as she listened to their chatter.

“We just made it into the city. I hear you’ve been able to blow off a little steam, Rachel. It seems patrols are tight. Be careful.”

“I already have a plan for that,” she whispered in return, her gaze drifting to the nervous merchant beside the broken bandit leader. “Focus on your angle.”

Gray seemed to be in charge of the operation, though, because he was already on top of it. “Black…”

“Already ahead of you.”

A soft, playful tune floated from Black’s flute, barely audible to human ears but no doubt ringing clearly through the city’s underground passages, calling to the creatures lurking in every shadowed corner. As she played, the rats answered her call as they crawled from dark alleys and drains, forming a quiet, writhing army ready to obey.

Rachel’s ears lifted as a bell rang out from within the city as they drew nearer to the towering city gates, snatching her gaze and pulling her mind away from the Fablekin. Grace gave her a nervous glance from underneath her hat, El Santo frowning up at the giant barrier, lined with soldiers.

“What’s that?” she asked, making the two men beside her stiffen.

“The Clarion Bell, marking the time when everyone should be within the walls… For when the Sand Devils prowl the night sands. It is why we rushed to reach the city before the sun fell,” the merchant explained.

“Hmm.”

Her response made the pair shiver as she turned her covered ears toward the desert, hearing the giant creature underneath toss and turn. Only, much smaller things were now burrowing up through the sand with the last light of the intense sun falling into oblivion.

As their caravan drew closer to the towering city gates, the guards stationed there strode forward on strong horses, geared to the teeth. However, the merchant raised their hand and brought out a merchant seal upon their approach. Their sharp eyes beneath their veiled faces, wrapped in crimson silk, fixated on her and the bandit leader before sweeping past them to the wagon of bundled bandits, who instantly cried.

“Please, take us to prison!”

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“We are bandits!”

“Help!”

The merchant swiftly called out as the soldiers glanced at one another, weapons tightening in their grips. “Our mercenaries captured them! We…we lost some of them. These ones are traveling with us!” he assured, his voice weary but resolute. “Mercenaries from the far east.”

Rachel kept her face hidden under her hood, shading her features, yet that didn’t seem to fly. He silently motioned for her to remove her hood, Nia included. Their vision narrowed upon seeing their ears and the soldiers inspecting their goods jumped back as the pups jumped out.

After a short exchange, the bandits were escorted off, raving about them being desert devils. The soldiers mostly discounted them, laughing that they looked weird, as most easterners, but nothing like desert devils.

Rachel put on her best charm in the short conversation that followed. Yet, the hard-eyed men in question weren’t budging, wanting to know more information about them…until an officer with a silver mark on his robe ordered them to let them by. Without hesitation, they were waved in. Some now mumbling how easterners could now have giant animal ears.

With a story to tell, and having mostly inspected their goods, they were let in. Immediately, Rachel trained her ears on the officer who had intervened. However, contrary to her expectations, no one followed them.

“I’m surprised they didn’t stop us and demand a toll; it’s a first,” one merchant muttered from inside the wagon behind Rachel, his voice carrying an undertone of bitterness. “City guards here… All mercenaries from lands far enough away are often charged a tax to operate in the sultan’s lands. I’d bet money their captain is going to find you later and extort you. We make a handsome profit here, but lately it’s become…hard to justify the journey with the dangers.”

Rachel raised a brow, glancing at the bandit leader with veiled curiosity while pulling her hood back over to hide her ears, allowing them to curve back. “Is that right? It won’t matter since I’m not planning on staying here for long. So, what is the truth?”

Shrank inward, glancing over his shoulder at the tough men, his voice quiet while eyeing the elite men as they passed that manned the walls.

“The truth is…many of the city’s soldiers and guards are paid by someone. I don’t know who, but it is very high up in the sultan’s advisors. Certain caravans are ‘marked’—ripe for plundering if you don’t have the right connections. Those who didn’t pay the right tax. Those with enough coins keep their goods safe, and those without…” He trailed off, a grim smile settling on his lips as he looked away. “Not that that matters now, sand devil. You now creep among us… We are doomed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go on.”

The man swallowed, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Yes,” he whispered, defeated. “The guards are in on it. Like I said, I don’t know much—just that some caravans are fair game if we follow orders and keep out of the way of certain groups. They promise protection…in return for obedience under the secret word.”

Rachel couldn’t help but feel disgusted by the act; it had led to her brother being targeted, but it made sense, coming from this kind of culture. Then again, everything in this world was more or less fabricated by the Seed within the Fable of Ali Baba. She had questions about that.

As they made their way through the city’s winding streets, Green’s team began to get into position, listening as they spoke halfway across the active nighttime grid. Black’s guiding voice directed them through the alleyways, slipping by those who stalked it in search of prey.

“The rat king is in the slums. Keep a lookout for any unusual activity, Red, Green, there are little insects that spy around the city. Wait…”

A pause, then Black’s flute played softly again, the melody of quiet authority over her rodents drawing them into a lul. The narrow, labyrinthine streets cast long shadows under the waning sunlight, flickers of twilight dancing between buildings. Overhead, Black’s rats chittered their findings to her, whispering in the city’s hidden language.

Rachel silently tilted her head to the side, soundlessly slipping off the caravan and into the crowd. The triplets vanished in a wisp of flames, returning into her Core to wait and pounce at their next prey, tails wagging. The Rabbit Gang were still behind with Maria, keeping watch.

She dragged the terrified bandit leader with her, weaving past the bustling populace and into the alleyway, Grace and El Santo following her. Now, she understood; there was a reason the soldiers had let her go.

Vision drifting to the side, her broad field of vision took in a small creature she typically wouldn’t have even batted an eye at: a fly on the wall, watching them.

If we’re drawing attention going through the front, Green’s party can focus on working in the shadows. In that case…

Removing her hood to let her unique appearance be seen by the population, she silently pushed the leader forward; he seemed to catch on to what she wanted, guiding them to his boss.

“Rachel is being watched,” Black whispered to the others, having mobilized the city’s vermin to pass messages along a chain. “I suppose she’s aware of that fact… I’ve found it. The rats in Ali Baba’s home have made contact with the network. It isn’t far,” she murmured, her tone calm and unhurried. “They know every corner, and they say there is a secret place underneath the old tannery, as well that swallows rats to never return. One thousand, two and seventy three meters in that direction.”

Green hummed, her tone slow and considering now, likely channeling her tortoise side. “Perfect… I’ve got the voice of his…his wife?”

“Give me a second to hear their responses…” Black returned as they changed direction. “They have a hard time distinguishing human interactions, but do recognize patterns. From their description, likely. There’s also another young woman in the house that does most of the chores. They’ve been very distracted lately, allowing the rats to eat their fill more than usual.”

“The wife and Morgiana,” Gray hummed. “The slave girl who saves Ali Baba and marries his son in the tale. How long has it been since her husband has gone missing?”

The flute sounded again, likely reasserting her dominion, before Black replied. “…Not for a while. Longer than a week. The rats say they are nearly out of food when they used to have an unlimited supply.”

“Concerning,” Green sighed as Rachel followed the bandit into a tough-looking neighborhood, not a soldier or merchant in sight. The soft glow of lamps illuminated the dark streets and the sky above drew black with rolling clouds, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance as the last light vanished. “As a Grim Tale, the realm has taken on a life of its own, feeding off of Ali Baba. He’s either captured or on the run. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Letting Green’s team handle questioning Ali Baba’s wife and servant, Rachel’s focus lifted to the large building that seemed far too lavish for this neighborhood. They’d gathered a rather curious crowd behind them as they went, all bandits by their rough appearance. Laughter and crude language inside made her ear twitch, yet the bandit took her past it and into a rather dark and crude building beside it.

He gulped and glanced back at the throng, one snickering and holding a knife. “What did you bring back for us? Nice catch. What’s with those ears on the two pale beauties?”

The man blanched as if he were going to be sick, his heartbeat picking up dramatically as he gave her a nervous glance. El Santo and Grace joined her, now on foot. “I-I don’t—you wanted me to take you here. Do you swear by your unholy masters that I will not be harmed… I’m cooperating. Don’t blame me!”

Grace flashed her teeth as the other bandits frowned, looking at one another at his stutters and quakes. She tipped her cowboy hat up, brown eyes sparkling with pure honesty that didn’t fool Rachel.

“Oh, bless your little heart. We mean you no harm, sugar. Now quit holdin’ the milk and show us the goodies. But I bet this is a trap. Seems like it,” she mumbled, lifting an eyebrow at the crowd as she cracked her neck and knuckles. “What’s the play?”

“No!” he shouted, making the bandits go on high alert. “No. In here is a s-secret passageway. You have to know the words. I swear!”

“Oi! What do you think you’re saying? Quit stalling and let’s have a bit of fun with this brown-haired gem,” one of the bigger bandits shouted, striding forward. “Hmm? You want to die, masked freak?”

El Santo stepped between the grinning cowgirl and the bandit, his voice rising above the tense murmurs, calm yet carrying a warning tone like distant thunder.

“Amigos…you’ve got the wrong idea here. But if you’re set on making this your last mistake, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

He straightened, his towering figure casting a shadow that seemed to grow darker with the rising temperature. A smirk played across his lips, and he slowly rolled his shoulders, making a show of his strength and unflinching stance.

The bigger bandit hesitated, glancing nervously at his companions, but stubbornly held his ground. El Santo’s smirk turned into a grin as he raised his fists, the air around him charged with raw, barely contained power.

“Then step forward, mi amigo. Alegra mi día. See if you’re brave enough to face a devil of your own making.”

As the first bandit puffed up his chest Grace let out a whoop, coming between them and tipping her hat to El Santo with a grin as the big bandit sneered and strutted forward.

“Hold on tight, boys, this little lady has her own voice and this dance ain’t for the faint-hearted!” Grace laughed, tipping her hat to El Santo with a grin as the big bandit sneered, puffing out his chest and strutting forward.

“I like a woman with a little bite…” he roared. She stared up at the giant of a man, near the same size as the Mexican folk hero as he loomed over her. “I like to bite!”

El Santo crossed his arms and stepped back with a resigned smile as the cowgirl put her hands on her hips.

“Oh, honey, you think you can handle this?” she drawled, removing her lasso from her shoulder and stretching out left and right. “I’ll give ya a ride through a hurricane you’ll never forget.”

The bandit snickered, reaching out, but Grace’s eyes sharpened to an icy gleam as she sidestepped his grasp with a quick hop to the right. In one fluid motion, her lasso looped around his hand, pulling him low as she stepped around him. Rope looping around his feet, a light tug sent him tumbling into a summersault, crying out and already half bound.

Wheezing and seeing stars, Grace’s legs spread out over his face, pearly white teeth gleaming as she pulled back her elbow. Fist striking out, she landed a solid blow right to the bridge of his nose. Bone cracked beneath her knuckles, and the big fella eyes rolled back into his head, blood gushing down his face.

“Guess he didn’t ride the storm so well,” she noted with a smirk, hopping left and right with light, playful bounces while completing the loop and stepping on his unconscious body to smile at the shocked bandits. “A lot of cattle out in these parts roamin’ free. It’s a good thing I’ve got a lot of tags to clip those ears with.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked back at El Santo, giving him a wink. “What d’ya say, big guy? Wanna tag-team this herd? No need to bother the boss.”

El Santo chuckled, stepping up beside her, his broad grin flashing as he cracked his knuckles. “Señorita, I would be honored. Together, we’ll send these souls flying back to their mamas. Rachel, leave the rabble to us.”

Rachel huffed and walked into the building, the terrified bandit leader keeping pace. “I’ll only be a moment. Nia…”

Inside, shadows clung to the damp stone walls, twisting in the dim glow of torches as Rachel descended a hidden stairwell that had been revealed with a single whispered word from the bandit leader’s trembling lips: open sesame.

The further they went, the heavier the air grew, thick with the scent of sweat and coin—a vault carved deep within the earth, far removed from the bustling life above.

They moved quickly, her senses keyed to the faint murmurs beyond the heavy doors ahead. Her hand tightened on the bandit’s collar, practically dragging him forward as he stumbled over his own feet in the darkness.

The whispers ahead of them shifted; the stronger bandits of the city’s underbelly caught sight of her and called out in sharp warning, the echo of their alarm bouncing down the stone corridors. Nia flashed past her, a blur of sleek motion that slipped through the shadows like a wraith in the flickering candlelight that illuminated the underground space.

With swift, silent efficiency, she dispatched the panicked sentries, she met each one with calculated blows that disabled each that tried to approach. Rachel strode forward with an unbroken focus, her footfalls absorbing the chaos she left in her wake as the man she dragged murmured manically.

“Demon…a devil! I had no choice! I have no choice!”

From behind the final door, the steady clink of coins continued, the sound almost mocking in its calmness. She shoved the bandit leader aside, his whimpers fading as she strode into the chamber, her eyes fixed on the figure hunched over the overflowing piles of gold and gems scattered across the table. The man looked up, unfazed, his gaze locking onto hers with a gleam of cold amusement.

A dangerous energy radiated from him, thickening the air around them: this was one of the forty thieves.

Nia reappeared by her side, her eyes narrowing as she took in the objects strewn across the table and on his person—an array of weapons, amulets, and arcane trinkets, each pulsing with faint, ominous glows.

“He’s armed with magic,” Nia murmured, a flicker of excitement sharpening her gaze. “Now these are a treat. I want them.”

Excellent, she replied, a grim smile tugging at her lips now that she’d finally found someone with real answers. At least this trip wasn’t for nothing.

She turned her full attention to the man before her. He leaned back in his chair, his expression calm, almost amused. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that carried a dark promise. “Our glorious leader wishes to strike a deal.”

“No deal.”

Without missing a beat, Rachel took a step forward, her hammer swinging from her shoulder with casual precision, its weight balanced in her hands as her focus locked onto her target. A white honeycomb barrier materialized around him, repelling her hammer and making him laugh.

“I’m afraid it would take much more to penetrate this barrier. We may have mutual enemies… Must you continue wasting our time?” he sighed.

She lifted her hammer with both hands, eclipse eyes cold steel as she brought it down as hard as she could on the barrier: once, twice, a third time. Every strike made the glowing diamond amulet on his table glow as it activated; not a crack ran down it as her own jewels on her hammer brightened.

“It’s pointless,” the man yawned, leaning back and rolling around his thick neck. “That was made to stop a missile attack from your modern weapons.”

Showing a smile that didn’t touch her eyes, Rachel drew back her hammer one final time. “Oh? Is that so? Well, I better swap up my strategy!”

The bulky man’s smile faded as she flipped her hammer to the spiked end. “I’ve dealt with a lot of barriers. For some reason, pointed things tend to get through with enough force.”

“Wait!”

Putting all of her strength behind it, she activated the kinetic push; in a clash of shield versus point, magical sparks flashed from the barrier. Then, it cracked and shattered like glass over his head, the amulet exploding to pepper the man in magical shards.

To his credit, he didn’t cry out. Yet, he couldn’t even get halfway to his weapon before Nia blurred past her, hand gripping his fat neck as she lifted him out of his chair to slam against the cold stone wall.

Rachel calmly released her hammer as thigh highs materialized around the bunny’s arm and waist, moving like snakes to bind the thieve’s limbs. He choked as her free hand swiped over his grasping fingers, the magical rings and jewelry vanishing off his person before they could activate to be absorbed into the Living Denier. And with that, Nia released him into a crumpled heap, powerful but no match for someone at their level.

Bending down, her wide eyes drilled into the stunned and red faced bandit as she whispered inches apart, “Let’s try this again… Where is Abu Hassan?”