Confused, Jasper turned around, a spell already beginning to form on the tips of his fingers as he searched for the source of the voice. Who the hell could it be?

A young woman raced down the street toward them, waving her arms vigorously, as her long brown hair bounced up and down on her shoulders. A slightly older man trailed behind her, a large pack protruding from his back like the hump of a camel.

The woman stumbled up to them, her breaths coming fast and hard. Far from the pale but perfect beauty of the elves or Moon-kissed, she had that typical girl-next-door look, her long, brown hair offset by a smattering of light freckles that highlight her wide, doe eyes. Her age was hard to guess, but Jasper thought she wouldn't seem out of a place at a college kegger. Or she could be eighty, he admitted to himself. Aphora looked about thirty and was at least a couple hundred years old, so who knows?

“Thanks - huh - thanks for waiting,” she finally managed to say between breaths. “I was afraid I was going to miss you again.”

“Again? Do we know you?” Ihra shot an incredulous look at Jasper as she asked the question, and he shrugged in response. The girl didn’t look like anybody he knew - although, on second thought, he decided that there was something slightly familiar about her face. Somebody we met at the guild, maybe?

The woman shook her head, straightening up as she caught her breath. “Nope, you never met me.” She nodded her head to the left, imitating the elven custom. “But I’m a friend of a friend.”

“Pretty sure my only friend in these parts is standing right here.” Jasper pointed at Ihra.

But the girl pressed on, apparently unperturbed. “My m-,” she cut her words off abruptly, “uh, Lady Aphora suggested I meet up with you. I’m Tsiāqa, but you can call me Tsia.”

Reflexes die hard. Despite knowing better, Jasper found himself thrusting out his hand for a friendly handshake. Which, of course, they didn’t do in Corsythia.

The girl stared at his hand for a second, and then, with a little shrug, took it, kissing the back of his hand. He jerked it back in surprise, feeling more than a bit embarrassed, but her dark brown eyes were sparkling with amusement as she looked up at him. “What strange customs you Summoned must have - around here the men kiss the women's hands.” She looked at the man who had joined her and nudged him in the side. “Don’t be rude, Nēs̆u. Offer your hand to the lady.”

Reluctantly, the manservant offered his hand to Ihra, who, with an equal share of reluctance kissed it, her cheeks blushing. Seeing the scowl she threw at him, Jasper quickly hid his amusement, preferring to brush the misunderstanding.

“So you know Lady Aphora?”

The brunette nodded. “Yes, she was supposed to…” she paused. Is she searching for the right words or searching for a lie? Jasper wondered. “She was supposed to mentor me, but now that she has chosen to cross the River, she suggested I seek you out.”

Jasper couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. “Why? I’m hardly equipped to mentor anyone." She glanced meaningfully at his red skin, and he scoffed. "Believe me - despite my appearance, I barely know what I’m doing myself.”

Tsia shook her head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Lady Aphora believed that your paths were destined to cross again in the future, and she promised that once she had created her safe haven in the West, I could join her.”

The woman couldn’t keep the pleading out of her eyes. “Do you mind if I tag along with you guys for the time being? I promise I'll be useful.” She lifted her hands, and immediately a gentle breeze sprung up, the wind swiftly picking speed, twisting and turning, as a small whirlwind formed in her palms.

Jasper caught Ihra’s eye and this time she was the one to shrug. “It's fine with me, but I'll do whatever you want.”

He remembered the conversation from earlier in the day and made his decision. I’ll give the light a chance. “Alright, Tsia, you can come with us - conditionally.”

She positively beamed with delight, releasing the little tornado with a wave of her hand. “Wonderful. You’ll have to catch me on what you’re doing here.”

As they began the hike up the mountain, the three chatted, Tsia’s servant staying relatively silent. While forthcoming in most areas, Tsia dodged questions about Aphora, her answers vague and noncommittal. But the more Jasper talked with her, the more his concerns ebbed away, as he started to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Her reluctance to talk about Aphora, the familiarity of her face, Nabul’s insinuations about Aphora’s romantic habits - they all added up to a single, compelling picture. She was Aphora's daughter.

In the end, Jasper decided he was content to let Tsia keep her little secret. He’d still keep one eye cocked, but he didn’t think she meant them any harm.

The trail up the mountain was steep. A thick forest of trees blanketed its slopes, nothing like the massive redwood-esque pines that filled Tirra’s lands. Giant boulders were scattered here and there beside the path, the rocks providing a break in the tree line that offered some truly specular views. But Jasper had a hard time enjoying the hike as the prospect of the three fights awaiting them hung over his head like the sword of Damocles.

It was already midday when they reached the first clearing. The steep incline leveled off, allowing a relatively flat plateau to emerge from the mountain's side. The trees had clearly been cut back - whether by the villagers or the guardians of Arutû he could not tell - and a small shrine had been erected near the edge of the overlook.

The group peered cautiously into the clearing. After determining that there was no sign of any enemy, they approached the shrine. It was a simple affair. A small pagoda, open to the air on two sides, sheltered a stone altar quite similar to the one on top of the Tower of Ysagil. A basin was carved into the rock face, ringed by runes cut deep into the rim. Jasper couldn’t read the runes, but he didn’t need to. He knew what he had to do. Why is it always blood? He grumbled to himself.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Reluctantly, Jasper made a small cut on his arm, allowing a few drops of blood to drip into the basin. He waited expectantly for the runes to light up, but nothing happened.

“Maybe we all have to offer some?” Ihra suggested. The three followed suit, each donating to the basin. As soon as Nēs̆u had made his contribution, the runes lit up. With a sudden whoosh, the blood burst into flames as an acrid, metallic scent filled the air. Above them, hidden in the rafters of the pagoda, a bell began to ring.

As Jasper turned to face the clearing, a whirlwind of leaves rose from the ground. The cyclone whirled in place, a miniature tornado of wind and leaves in the center of the clearing, for several minutes. Then it ceased. As the leaves fell listlessly down, the spirit emerged from the whirlwind.

Jasper’s heart caught in his throat as he saw it: the fallen Queen of Als̆arratu stood before them. She looked, if possible, even more deranged than the last time he had seen her. The majestic antlers on her head were dirty and broken, with clods of dirt clinging to her shattered tines. The deer fur had spread even further across her skin, looking like a mottled and moth-bitten pelt, and her face was unnaturally long and deformed. But there was still no mistaking her.

He stepped back reflexively, almost cowering as the woman who had killed him emerged from the cyclone. Ihra and Tsia were as shocked as he as the ghost of their past strode across the clearing. The beast's gait was confident, its hooves digging into the soft turf as it waved the colossal spear clutched in its right hand.

His stupor was broken as a fierce cold begin to spread up his armor, emanating from the charm the Fey leader had given him. Shaking the unnatural fear off, Jasper finally sprang into action. This was not the Queen, after all: just an imposter wearing her face.

Getting a tight grip on his glaive, he cast the spell. Seraph Burst. Jasper shot across the clearing, bridging the space between him and the spirit in an instant. But with a calm, measured movement, the spirit simply stepped to the side, allowing him to shoot past her harmlessly. He landed in the dirt, the spell ripping the soft turf to shreds.

Ignoring his hapless attack, the spirit blurred forward, the spear suddenly lengthening as the Queen jabbed it straight at Tsia’s throat.

The princess stood frozen, staring with horror as the grandmother she’d never known but always heard about, suddenly descended upon her in a storm of wrath. But the blade was turned aside as Nēs̆u stepped in. Shrugging the pack of his shoulders, he managed to swing his sword up just in time to parry the blow, as he drug Tsia back with his other hand, pulling her roughly by the hair. “Snap out of it,” he roared.

Jasper picked himself up, spitting a mouthful of dirt on the ground as he cast Fiery Shackles. The queen lurched to a halt as the manacles sprung up around her ankles, her fur igniting in a shower of sparks. Snatching up his glaive, he began to race back toward the fray, not trusting that he could successfully cast Seraph’s Burst without accidentally harming one of his comrades.

With the initial moment of shock gone, the four flung themselves into the battle. While they would have been no match for the true Queen of Als̆arratu, the spirit was not her equal. The creature's prowess with the spear, which like the queen’s could quickly alter in shape and length, was exceptional, but it seemed unable to cast any spells. Still, her vastly superior speed made it a difficult battle.

Nēs̆u flung himself into the forefront of the fight, doing his best to keep the queen away from Ihra and Tsia, who barraged the spirit with their arrows and spells. But the queen’s speed was so overwhelming that the warrior struggled to defend himself from the relentless hail of blows that rained down on his head.

Jasper closed the distance quickly, refreshing his spell as he neared the queen. When the blazing manacles sprang up around its feet, the queen suddenly pivoted her attention back to him, a baleful glare on her face.

The enchanted spear ripped toward him, its shaft tripling in length as it whistled straight toward his heart. Somehow, Jasper reacted, throwing himself to the ground as the spear passed mere inches above his head. He rolled forward, stumbling back to his feet as the queen was forced to swing the spear back toward the rest of his group, blocking a blow from Nēs̆u.

Jasper's mind raced through his spells as he reached the queen. He had been afraid to use Shooting Star - Qara’s words of warning about friendly fire still rung in his ears - but at close range he had more options. He cast two spells both in quick succession. Purge. Scourge of Despair.

The first, as he had rather expected, failed; he wasn’t surprised the champion of Arutû, regardless of whose skin it was wearing, wasn’t considered evil. The scourge, however, connected. He winced as the fiery lash cracked against the creature’s back and bounced off, narrowly missing smashing into Nēs̆u’s face who, fortunately, managed to duck. Oops. The welcome wailing of the specters filled the air as he slashed at the queen with his glaive.

The fight turned into a war of attrition. Even with the specters’ aid, the spirit’s speed was so fast that it was difficult to land a blow, her ever-changing spear capable of clearing a wide swath around her. Jasper’s alternate casting of Fiery Shackles and Scourge of Despair helped to keep the spirit pinned down while he and Nēs̆u kept her occupied, allowing Ihra and Tsia to try to pierce her defenses. One small wound after another opened up, thick viscous blood matting the mottled fur, but the fight dragged on as none of them were capable of landing a killing blow.

In the end, the blood loss got to it. The faux queen’s movements grew sluggish and sloppy, and the openings became larger and easier to exploit. When the creature finally fell to its knees, its fearsome spear clutched listlessly at his side, Jasper got the death blow in, slashing his glaive through its neck in a shower of viscera.

The queen collapsed on the ground, her body a mess of fur and blood, as the four gathered around it. Excluding the final battle against the true queen, it was the longest fight Jasper had ever been in. Leaning against his glaive, it was all he could do to keep standing as his head pounded with the sort of fury only felt when his essence had bottomed out.

As they watched, the corpse begin to dissolve into a pile of leaves, which fluttered through the air, spinning and flying as the whirlwind returned.

With a groan, Jasper pushed himself upright, readying his glaive. Please don’t let there be a second phase to this boss.

But his worries were for naught. The spirit emerged from the whirlwind, but no longer wore the skin of the queen. Its body, a living mass of constantly shifting leaves, was vaguely humanoid in shape, aside from four gauzy wings that fluttered on its back, and its eyes burned with an eldritch fire as it approached them.

The four tensed, preparing for a fight, but the creature offered no hostility. Instead, as it approached Jasper, the spirit held a bundle in its outstretched hand. After a moment's hesitation, he took it, and the four watched as the creature melted away. Within seconds its leaves had drifted back into the waiting forests, indistinguishable in the thick foliage.