Jasper watched the dead god charge toward Barbartu; she had managed to pry her arms free of the ooze, but her legs were still bound in place. She's not going to be able to move in time. His hands were moving before his mind even made the decision to help, and with a twist of fingers, a pair of burning shackled erupted from the ground and clamped around the god’s ankles. They shattered like glass. He followed up with Purge, but the dead god showed no response.

Damn it. The Mwyranni was less than fifty feet away from her now, and he reached for a spell he hadn’t used in a while. Seraph’s Burst.

Ice crusted on the edge of his blade as Jasper rocketed past Barbartu, set on a collision course with the Mwyranni. This time the dead god did notice him, and with a lazy swing of one of his giant blue hands, swatted him out of the way like a buzzing fly. Jasper went flying in the wrong direction, his glaive thrashing uselessly at empty space as the spell violently twisted his body around. He landed hard on his back, bouncing across the jagged, broken pavement like a stone skipping across a pond before he came to a halt.

Ignoring the jolt of pain that greeted him, Jasper rolled to his feet in time to see the Mwyranni reach the place where Barbartu was still trapped. A flickering shield began to rise around her, as she abandoned her attempts to free herself and hastily cast a spell, but the barrier was only partially formed. She was going to die. And then…Jasper watched in disbelief as the dead god thundered right past her without a second glance. Right past her and directly toward Tsia.

“Gyera Dâkanna Sidhe,” it screamed in rage, as gobs of spit swung wildly from its mouth.

Tsia was still woozy from weeks of deprivation, but she did her best to stop the beast. Blades of wind shot out from her hands, chopping cruelly at the creature’s limbs. In an instant, a half dozen bloody wounds scored the Mwyranni’s legs, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. She backpedaled, throwing more spells in its direction, but the dead god had already closed the distance. Time seemed to slow as Jasper watched the creature leap into the air, with its four blue arms raised high above its head, and angle down toward the girl in its best imitation of a Hulk smash.

“NO!” Nēs̆u thrust himself into the trajectory of the Mwyranni and swung his axe high above his head. “Vāya as̆asīkī,” he screamed. His eyes suddenly glowed with a pale green light as Nēs̆u slammed the axe into the ground, and Jasper was thrown on his face as a burst of wind hit him in the back as, from every direction, the air answered the warrior’s call.

The gusts bombarded the Mwyranni, battering him around like a kitten playing with a spool of yarn. Bearing him aloft on their currents, the wind flung him over the heads of the party and into the temple beyond. With a thunderous roar, the dead god smashed through the double row of pillars like a bowling ball through pins and only stopped when he hit the temple wall, caving it around him. Dust filled the air, obscuring the being from sight, but instead of exulting in his victory, Nēs̆u dropped to his knees, his axe falling uselessly beside him.

Picking himself up, Jasper ran to join the others. He paused briefly by Barbartu but she, having nearly freed herself from the ooze, waved him off, and he continued on until he reached Nēs̆u. The man’s face was gaunt, his skin sallow, his formerly dark hair a dusky grey. His flesh sagged sadly around muscles that were no longer as the warrior shakily lifted his eyes toward Tsia. “Tell your father I did my best.”

Tsia’s lips trembled as she stared down at him, and a fat tear tumbled down her cheek. “Nēs̆u…” She ran toward him, grabbing his withered body in your arm. “You can’t die. You can't. We’ll get you help.” Her eyes snapped toward Barbartu, who had managed to stand up from the black tar and was trying to scrape it off of her limbs. “Give us some of your medicine. Please,” she begged.

Barbartu started to shake her head.“I’m sorry, kid, but that's not the kind of bargain you can heal-” when a shower of rubble erupted out of the dust.“Aw, crap. And it's still not dead.”

Abandoning her efforts to scrape the ooze off, she stalked past the party as the rocks tumbled down the small mound that had buried the Mwyranni. As she passed Nēs̆u, she glanced down with a touch of pity. “You know, dude, you really did not get your money’s worth with that deal. You should ask for a refund.”

“She lived,” was all he said.

Ignoring him, Barbartu turned to Jasper and, dragging something out of her pouch, tossed it in his direction. “Follow the ritual in red,” she snapped.

“Do you mean Ihra,” he started to question, but she cut him off.

“If I wanted Ihra, I would have said Ihra. Honestly, I’m not sure if you can actually pull it off, but I’m pretty damn sure at this point that I can’t defeat this thing on my own, and you’re my best bet. He's certainly not coming to our rescue in time.” She nudged her chin past Jasper, and he turned to look down the sloping street. A whirlwind of lightning and rain swirled around Imhullu as he darted back and forth between three of the undead gods. Three?

“I guess they got reinforcements.”

“You think?” she replied sarcastically. She brushed past him walking toward the Mwyranni that had almost fully emerged from the rubble. “I’ll hold it off as long as I can. Just do the ritual.”

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As she walked away, Jasper turned his attention toward the item Barbartu had given him. It was a small book, bound in a soft, creamy leather whose once light color was now stained and soiled. He cracked the book open and hastily flipped through the dog-eared pages. Elaborate gold-leafed headings named the rituals, but he only recognized a few of the names. Mūtu. Eṭemmu. Barīrītu. Miqit. Guzalû. Many of the headings were defaced with a large black X whose crude form was clearly not traced by the same elegant hand as the book's scribe. But Jasper’s frantic flipping paused as he reached a page marked with a bold, red checkmark and read the heading.

Gallû.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. “She wants me to summon that creepy little thing?” Barbartu cried out in pain behind him and he grimaced. Guess I don't have much choice.

He tossed the book over to Ihra. “Can you help me set this up?”

She scanned the page’s contents and glanced up with a frown. “What are you going to use for the blood? There’s not exactly any animals down here.”

Unconsciously, their eyes were both drawn toward the bound and gagged cultists who still lay perched beside the crumbled edge of the road. No. A shiver ran down his back at the mere thought of that. Desperate or not, human sacrifice was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. But Ihra was right. They did need blood.

He flinched as a loud crash thundered behind them, and craned his neck to look.Barbartu had lured the Mwyranni back toward the temple where she had tricked the creature into charging straight into one of the pillars.It shook its head like a wet dog, flinging dust and shards in every direction, and roared in anger.

Barbartu vanished beneath her veil of invisibility and reappeared behind the dead god, slashing at his legs with her claws. It spun around, its four arms whistling toward her with the speed of a rocket. She vanished again, only for her face to promptly peak out from behind another pillar and whistle at the beast. “Over here, dumbass!” The dead god lurched toward Barbartu - or perhaps toward her illusion - and Jasper reluctantly turned back to the task she’d given him.

Where am I going to get enough blood? Then his eye snagged on the scorched form of one of the Mwyranni that Imhullu had slain. A large silver puddle pooled around it, from which small rivulets slowly snaked their way down the gentle incline of the street. That might work.

“Ihra, can you start making the circle? I think we found our blood.”

He ran cautiously, skirting around the edge of the conflict as near as he dared while praying the dead god didn’t take notice of him. But his prayers went unanswered as the Mwyranni spotted him, and with a roar of rage, staggered after him.

Pumping his legs as hard as he could, Jasper narrowly avoided the first blow. But the street bucked as the creature slammed into it, and he lost his footing. In a feat of athleticism he probably couldn’t have replicated on purpose, Jasper managed to turn his fall into a roll and kept on running. Summoning his essence, he cast Spectral Wings and leaped into the air. As he leapt, the Mwyranni’s hand swept through the space he had just occupied, clipping the bottom of his right foot. The bones crunched but the wings beat steadily and carried him above its reach.

“Damn it, Jasper,” Barbartu cursed below. “Try not to get its aggro.” Abandoning her veil of invisibility, she dashed in front of the Mwyranni and vaulting into the air, slashed at its face. Forgetting about Jasper, it turned to follow her, delivering a flurry of frenzied blows that she ducked, dodged, or deflected.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his foot, Jasper swooped down beside the dead Mwyranni, and hastily scooped as much of the silver blood into the bag as he could manage. Darting back into the air, he flew high above the raging battle and landed beside Ihra.

Barbartu’s ritual had none of the complexities that Ihra’s runes required, and the elfling, with the help of Rā’imu, had already completed the preparations. Piling up the broken rubble that lined the streets, they’d formed three straight trenches, arrayed in the shape of a triangle whose corners were not formed. Around that, Ihra had formed a simple circle of salt.

Jasper bit down hard on his tongue, drawing blood, as his battered foot planted on the ground, but, steadying himself, he poured the Mwyranni’s blood into the first of the trenches. Not waiting for the viscous flow to settle, he soared back into the air for another load. When he returned he saw the trench was only half full, though the bottom was fully covered. “Do you think it’s enough?”

Ihra could only shrug. “I don’t know. You’re supposed to sacrifice three bulls.”

Jasper had no idea how much blood a bull could hold, but he doubted his pouch was equivalent. He flew back and forth, spooning up as much of the silver substance as he could, and by the sixth trip he could he was running out of time. Barbartu still danced around the Mwyranni, her movements faster than anything he could manage, but there were no more illusions to help her. She’s run dry.

He poured the last of the blood into the trenches and plopped down outside of the circle, praying it would be enough.

Ihra tossed him the book, and he started to read. Petû bābī Adummi. As the first three words departed his tongue, sores opened in his mouth, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. Petû bābī Adummi, he began again. He struggled to speak, the sores spreading across his body with each word spoke. S̆uturam bābu lummunu, s̆erru nizirti, gallû mutu. The skin on his arms and legs cracked open with weeping wounds, but he persevered. Atû Adummi, s̆emû dabābīya.

“Stop. You’ve got to stop,” Ihra cried out, but shrugging her arm off, he finished the invocation. Liptû bābī Adummi u liptarū Kurību agās̆u s̆e’aku. As the last words left his lips, the salt and blood were consumed by a fire, a strange black and white flame that seemed to defy all he knew. It burned fiercely, lapping away at the offering and the street shuddered as, with an ear-deafening crack, a small, pale hand thrust through the ruined pavement. A second hand followed, and then the girl’s body emerged. Long black hair fell around a pale, porcelain face as the small child - the gallû - stood up with an angry expression. “You promised no more-”

The anger was replaced with confusion as she noticed Jasper kneeling before her. “You?” She reached out an almost speculative hand toward him, and he shrank away from her touch.

“Hungry,” she complained. “Not enough blood.”

He gestured wildly at the scattered corpses of the dead gods behind him. “Feel free to help yourself to any of them. Their blood is all yours. Just help her first. Kill that thing.”

A small smile crept across the gallû’s face as it surveyed the dead Mwyranni. “Yes. I help,” the little girl replied slowly. “But first, I help you.”

She neither walked nor ran. She simply manifested beside him and a small, cold hand wrapped around his wrist before he could even react.