Barbartu stepped forward with a menacing glower, but her progress was stopped when her body suddenly went stiff. With a jerky movement, her spine arched backward to an unnatural, and she gasped. “Ahhhhh.”

“Are you doing that?” One of the other cultists hidden behind the sepulcher whispered to Abarakku. The Djinn mage shook his head, his brows furrowed as he inspected the woman frozen in a strange, contorted position.

“No,” he replied slowly. “It could be a trick. Unless…” Like a ray of sun breaking through on a storm day, his face brightened with joy. “It must be the goddess’ punishment. Yas̆gah lives! She lives!” he crowed victoriously, dancing to his feet.

Fear coursed through her veins at his words, but as Tsia watched the frozen woman, still bound herself to the sepulcher, she began to doubt his conclusion. A slight blush colored her cheeks as the woman’s cries of pain - or as she suspected they actually were, cries of ecstasy - filled the room.

Her cries intensified, louder and brasher, until her skin began to glow. The illusion around her dissipated rapidly, the dusky red skin of the Djinn swiftly replaced by a golden tan. Her oddly straight horns melted into long, wolf-like ears and her dutifully painted nails morphed into long, black claws that glinted in the faint light as if they were made of obsidian. Fangs erupted from her mouth, peaking over her plump lips as the woman’s transformation was complete. Fear pulsed through Tsia again, but this time it had nothing to do with the goddess. Instead, it was inspired by the aura of danger that practically radiated from her as, with a final whimper, the woman’s frozen limbs uncurled. The woman’s eyes swept past Tsia without interest and fixed on the jubilant cultists gathered around the sepulcher.

“Now he really did do it,” she grinned, stretching her body like it.

At her words, Abarakku spun around. His face turned ashen when he saw her walking toward him, but to his credit, the cultist immediately sprung into action. His fingers twisted and a ball of fire rocketed toward Barbartu. The small mausoleum magnified the noise of the explosion to a painful degree, but Barbartu walked through the fire unharmed and bared her fangs with a wicked grin. “That’s not going to save you.”

Not bothering to respond, the cultist cast the second spell he’d been preparing. This time, A veritable pillar of fire erupted from his body, a raging inferno of destruction that far exceeded anything he had produced thus far. Flames wreathed his entire body, red flames mixed with an almost pure white, and as the fire billowed towards Barbartu, it slowly morphed into the shape of a dorēsah whose fiery pinions stretched from one side of the mausoleum to the other. Is he burning his soul?

The woman didn’t flinch as the mighty bird of fire clamped its jaws around her. It tugged and pulled, sparks flying from its wings as it sought to drag its prey into the air, but she could not be moved. Tsia’s guess was proven correct as the man’s ruddy skin turned pale.

His limbs began to shake, his skin withered and, in a final act of cowardice, he cut the spell off and dropped to his knees in defeat. “Spare me, my lady, and I shall serve you,” he gasped out. “I don’t know why you turned against our lady, but, surely, if you could engineer her defeat, then you must be a goddess yourself. Reveal your power to me, I pray, and I should serve you faithfully.”

Barbartu snorted. “She was never a goddess, Abarakku. She was a raving lunatic who cloaked her homicidal tendencies in a whole lot of philosophical gunk. And as for me, well,” she grinned broadly, “I suppose you could say I'm a goddess temporarily embarrassed. But unfortunately for you, I’m not really in the market for any servants.” Her hand came to rest on the side of his head, her claws cradling his throat. “Not when all the dead are mine.” With a flex of her fingers, her black claws tore his throat to shreds.

The room stilled in a moment of shocked horror; then panic descended on the few remaining cultists. A few brave souls charged toward her, wielding sword and spear. Others turned to flee. It did not matter.

Moving so fast that Tsia could barely track her motions, the woman tore through their ranks in a matter of seconds, felling the last one before he could even reach the threshold of the tomb. But no sooner had she achieved her victory, then she froze in place once again. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she stared blankly at the wall, muttered words beneath her breath that were too low for Tsia to decipher. Maybe she’s not all there.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

As Tsia watched the strange woman mutter and gesture at the air, she couldn’t begin to guess her intentions. Mere moments before she’d reconciled herself with the inevitably of her demise, but with the cultists dead… No, she rejected the wayward thought, not daring to let hope twist its tendrils around her heart. There was no point in letting herself believe she might live. Even if she had killed the cultists, the woman was clearly unstable. There was a good chance she’d just finish the job herself. And yet, hope is a weed that grows unwanted; despite herself, Tsia couldn’t tear her eyes away from Barbartu.

Her odd mutterings continued for a few minutes before the woman snapped out of whatever fugue she was in and swept her eyes over the room. Her gaze lingered briefly on the still form of Anatta, who was chained on the opposite side of the mausoleum, but resumed its voyage until it came to her.

Tsia quailed as Barbartu’s eyes locked on her, her gaze pressing against her with a nearly physical presence. Stalking over to the sepulcher, the woman came to a stop beside her and raised her hand. Her thick claws glittered in the dim light, still covered in the blood of the cultists she’d slain.

Tsia flinched as the hand chopped down, but no pain followed. With a crack, the chains that bound her left arm shattered, and she hastily pulled it free. The woman slashed down again, severing the ones wrapped tighter around her middle and again. Slowly, methodically, the woman worked her way down Tsia’s body until the last of her restraints was gone.

She sat up painfully, her muscles and bones protesting after days of not being allowed to move, and rubbed her arms stiffly.

“Don’t worry, your essence will return quickly enough now that those blasted chains are gone. Ediddu chains, cruel weapons,” the woman commented.

She glanced up at the woman, surprised she had spoken, and the question just slipped out. “Why? Why would you help me?”

Barbartu looked amused. “Is that how you say thank you? Boy, you princesses really are a spoiled bunch.”

Tsia stammered. “No, uh…uh…” Two weeks of receiving just enough food and water to survive had taken their toll on her faculties, and her mind spun uselessly.

“Relax,” the woman took pity on her. “I was just kidding.” Reaching into a bag that hung at her waist, she tossed a small object toward Tsia. “Here, try this. It’ll perk you right up.”

Tsia stared at the small, crinkly item dubiously, but obediently lifted it toward her mouth and the woman snatched it out of her hand.

“No, dummy. Don’t eat the package.” She tore it open and yanking Tsia’s jaw open, popped a small white disk into her mouth. “Suck it, chew it, swallow it. Whatever you prefer. You’ll be feeling better in no time.” Turning her back on Tsia, the woman headed toward the final sepulcher.

A sweet taste filled her mouth as the strange medicine dissolved, and Tsia dutifully sucked on it as she watched the woman tear off the chains that bound Annatta. And Barbartu was right - strength flooded back into her veins as the days of malnutrition and dehydration were wiped clean. Feeling a thousand times better, Tsia wriggled off the tomb and cautiously approached the woman.

“Is she okay?”

Still feeling a bit cautious of the woman, Tsia circled around to the far side of the sepulcher rather than stand beside her and stared down at Annatta with concern. “Why hasn’t she woken up? You gave her that pill, right?”

“She’s in worse shape than you,” the woman grunted. “The perks of being a commoner I suppose.”

“I don’t think they fed her at all.” Tsia twisted her hands nervously as she watched Barbartu force another of her odd pills down the unresponsive Djinn’s throat. She still didn’t stir, but after a few moments, the rise and fall of her chest become more pronounced. At least she’s still alive.

“We’re gonna need stronger medicine than what I’ve got,” the woman decided. Turning her back on Annatta, she walked over to the second sepulcher and began to stuff her ingredients back into her bag.

“You aren’t just going to abandon her, are you?” Tsia blurted out. A second later, her brain caught up to the sheer folly of upsetting the savage woman and, clasping her hands over her mouth, she shrank against the wall. Please don't kill me.

With an amused smile, Barbartu cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think before you speak, do you child? But that’s okay; you don’t have to be afraid to speak your mind around me. Unlike Yas̆gah, I’m not a homicidal maniac.”

Her gaze turned to the sepulcher where Annatta lay in repose. “I’m not giving up on her just yet; I’ll promise I’ll do my best to get her out of this damn city, but not yet. You can do what you want, but I’m not going anywhere until he comes back.” She nodded her head toward the corner where the red mist still lingered over Jasper’s body.

“What do you mean?” Tsia questioned, barely able to hope.

The woman shrugged. “I may have stolen most of the power that the sacrifice provided, but I left him enough to finish the job with Yas̆gah. He clearly succeeded on that front, so unless I missed my guess, he should be coming back to us any minute now. We just have to make sure that he actually stays alive when he wakes.”