“Dirien!” Helaneth’s panting cry rippled through the branches of the canopy as she ran across the forest floor, her boots tamping a path into the mud. Swiping at a drop of sweat before it ran into her eye, she smeared the dirt of her hands onto her flushed face. She glanced over her shoulder to find her other companion had disappeared as well. Upon realizing she was alone, she skidded to a stop. A rustling in the distance drew nearer and nearer, and from the thick underbrush emerged Al’mar.

“Apologies if I gave you a fright,” he said, squinting as he peered off into the distance, “Or a disappointment.”

“Well, you’re not Dirien,” Helaneth said with a shrug. “But I s’pose it’s better that I don’t lose both of ya’s.”

“Does this happen often?” Al’mar asked, taking a lengthened stride to avoid a puddle. “Tell me he isn’t truly afraid of every critter that leaps out from the woods.”

“He’s afraid ’cause they’re unpredictable,” said Helaneth. “I mean, you’ve seen the teeth on a squirrel, and you’re okay with not knowin’ what it’s thinkin’? It’s a wee bit strange.”

“I don’t think about it often,” admitted Al’mar. “I tend to reserve those worries for things with much sharper teeth. Or weapons.”

“Aye, I forget we’re the strange ones.” The wild, dirt-speckled curls of her blond ponytail whipped from side to side as she shook her head. “In Fenglade, we have a connection with the animals that we don’t have anywhere else. Telepathy or what have ya. Walk into the forest at night and it sounds like the bloody Brass Tusk. Most of our animals are bigger than anything Nelthemar’s got, too. Little rodents with unknown schemes rollin’ about in their skulls? Terrifying. Giant frogs three times the size of a person? Even Dirien’s got no problem hoppin’ away on its back like a damned lunatic.”

“Suddenly I'm second-guessing my plans to visit Fenglade,” Al’mar remarked. Helaneth’s outstretched arm stopped him short of his next step. Right foot in front of her and a finger to her lips, she turned an attentive ear up to the treetops.

“D’ya hear that?” she whispered, prompting Al’mar to listen in. The wind carried the faint sniffles and sobs of a private lament from deeper within the darkness of the forest. It dispersed to a soft echo, as if from the ether.

“That is not Dirien,” Al’mar whispered back.

“’Course it isn’t. But what if whatever it is has got him?”

“I suppose this means you want to get closer to it to find out.”

“Ah, yep,” Helaneth said, her lips popping. “Dirien’s the light of my life, but none of it’s comin’ from the attic. He’d be the first to fall for the classic cryin’-bitch-in-the-forest that lures you in to suck out your soul or what have ya.”

“That is true,” said Al’mar. “Aye then, lead the way.”

A carpet of slippery moss stretched over the ground as the cover of trees became denser. The area was virtually untouched, thus no path had yet been cut through the dense brush. They waded through the thinnest patches they could find, inching closer to the source of the weeping. In time they spotted a clearing around a still pond.

The view left them awestruck, standing in silent admiration. Motes of purple light drifted over the water, plucking each bristle of shadow from reeds swaying in the breeze. Mischievous pixies chased dragonflies in circles, stirring up soft rippling waves as they tried to douse the insects in their luminous dust. Such rare beauty could only be found in the most undisturbed depths of the woods.

Rare as the sight was, it was also delicate and fleeting. A fit of shouting echoed from straight ahead, shattering the stillness. Footsteps pounded in the dirt, soon followed by a chorus of insect-like buzzing. A figure burst from the shrubs into the clearing. The pixies’ light vanished in their fright as the noise became louder.

"Dirien!" Helaneth called out.

“Hela! Dreadweevils! Run!” Dirien shouted back as he ran along the edge of the pond. In pursuit of him flew a swarm of giant weevils the size of an adult human, teeth gnashing within their elongated snouts. The buzz of their wings encircled and overwhelmed everything. Rather than heeding Dirien’s cry, Al’mar and Helaneth waited to ensure he would get to them safely. As he approached, he took hold of his lover’s hand, not slowing down for a second. Helaneth stumbled, but he guided her with such care that she quickly found her footing.

The three ran from the pursuing insects, finding their momentum despite the brambles and branchlets serving as obstacles. They managed to gain some distance, and soon the trodden path came into view. But they were stopped when a tangle of roots caught Dirien’s ankle. He tumbled to the ground, landing face-first in a bush and dragging Helaneth with him.

“Ow, fuck,” said Helaneth, tugging at Dirien’s arm. Thorns dug into her skin as she rose to her knees and drew out little droplets of blood. Al’mar heard the crash and rushed back to help, bounding over the vegetation. With a yank of his sturdy arms, he pulled them both to their feet, but Dirien hung limp, groaning and torn up with cuts and bruises. The wood elf was quite lanky and modest in stature, thus Al’mar was well able to heave him onto his shoulders. But by the time he managed to do so, the dreadweevils were even closer than before.

“I’ve got him, young lady, let’s go,” said the brawny Mezthrin, taking on a collected urgency in his tone that she did not know him to possess – perhaps an inkling of his oft-mentioned previous life. Retracing their steps, he led her down the fastest path, all while cursing himself for lacking a blade suitable for clearing brush.

“Don’t look back,” Al’mar said, having caught Helaneth stealing glances that encumbered her movement.

“When do they stop following us?” asked Hela, her words shortened and strained.

“Once we’re out of their home, I’d say. They don’t like open spaces. Now pick up the pace!”

Their efforts to maintain distance were met with more resistance the further they ran. Mud and debris stuck to the blood on Helaneth’s leg, smearing into her wounds. It stung terribly, and the friction slowed her down. Dirien’s weight sat like a rock upon Al’mar’s shoulders, and while he had sufficient strength, his endurance had waned over the years. Both pressed onward nonetheless, resisting a vexing temptation to look back.

A hellish roar sent tremors through the earth, knocking them flat onto their backs. Dirien fell from Al’mar’s shoulders, his head striking the ground. From the same direction as the roar, a deafening crack like that of lightning pierced through and dominated every sound in the vicinity. Ears ringing from the blast, Al’mar and Helaneth opened their eyes. The insects had swarmed around them. There were fewer, though, and the smell of charred carapace accompanied the sudden absence.

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Hela strained to lift her head. Through the swarm she could see a humanlike figure, but it was twice the size of the insects, and purple skinned with horns on its head. It had distracted some of the dreadweevils, while others swept down at a sword-waving Al’mar who was trying his hardest to protect an incapacitated Dirien.

“No use running,” shouted the Mezthrin, managing to pierce the abdomen of a weevil and cut a clean slice downward. Greenish-brown fluid poured from the wound, oozing down his blade and splattering on his arms and face. He spat it away from his lips, mostly unfazed. “Have you ever killed a Lus’rak Ar’Galatha, by any chance, young lady?”

“What the bloody—” one of the insects took a nosedive toward her, and she fumbled for her dagger while side-stepping out of its way. “What are you on about?” The nose-diving weevil crashed to the ground, and she used her blade to pierce through its head with a resounding crunch.

“Lightning demons, young lady. Have you ever killed one?” Another burst of lightning bolts fanned out overhead from the Lus’rak’s hands, scorching three more bugs. Helaneth covered one ear. In a fluid motion, she dislodged her dagger from the dead weevil’s head and jammed it directly into the mouth of another as it swooped in.

“Do I look like the type of fool who goes around killin’ demons?”

“Looks can be deceiving!” Al’mar laughed, nearly spinning a full turn as he cut through the belly of another dreadweevil. “Worry not, he won’t go after us until the bugs are out of the way.”

“But he’ll go after us – how reassuring.”

“It is all right. Once we deal with them, follow my lead. And have your limberness about you.”

Helaneth paused, locked in stance with her right leg forward. Her arm was scooped in front of her, holding her dagger parallel to her chest which moved up and down with her quickened breaths. She looked at Dirien, once more conscious but still lying there, helpless. Foolish as he’d been to wander off alone, and fragile as she knew him to be, she knew his heart well enough to find a glint of acknowledgement in his gentle eyes. He was aware of his fault in wandering off, and Helaneth was aware that she still wanted nothing more than to protect him.

Trouble did not wait for Helaneth’s rumination to conclude. She charged at a weevil that was hurtling toward Al’mar’s back while he was preoccupied with two others. Together, with the unexpected and interim help of the lightning Lus’rak, they fought through the remainder of the swarm. Crunching chitin and sticky hemolymph abounded, overpowered only by the choking smoke of the scorching bolts.

“Don’t move,” said Al’mar, holding up a hand in Helaneth’s direction while keeping his focus on the Lus’rak’s face. Surrounded by a smoking circle of its own kills, it stood, unmoving, with a scheme flickering to life in its eyes. “This one has no handler, and they are very stupid on their own. When I close my fist, young lady, find cover and stay under.”

“What about Dirien?”

“I will secure him.”

The demon curled its clawed hands as if cupping an invisible sphere. Bolts of lightning arced between its fingers and channeled into the empty space to form the shell of an orb. The creature spread its hands further as the orb grew in size, the electric flow increasing in intensity and brightness. Helaneth looked to the stone-faced Al’mar – in part for his signal, as well as for reassurance. He did not move, nor did he regard her in any way.

Sparking and discharging, the orb grew massive and its light became blinding. Helaneth trembled with uncertainty, but she’d never known Al’mar to be unreliable or untrustworthy. The Lus’rak raised its arms, turning its palms outward. Al’mar curled down his ring and pinky finger, glancing over at Helaneth. He nodded, then tucked down his middle finger. Then index finger. Then thumb.

The Lus’rak let out another thunderous roar, its arms quaking against the sheer force of the conjured sphere. Helaneth darted over to a tree with a thick trunk and squeezed herself into the hollow. Al’mar bounced backward and scooped up Dirien, then made a dash for cover beneath an overhanging rock as the creature hurled the orb straight at him.

An explosive, all-consuming thunder upturned the earth, sending the ground into convulsions. Limbs cracked and fell from the trees nearest the blast, and squealing animals scattered in panic. The sheer force pushed a whistling wind in every direction from the center. Helaneth cupped her hands over her eyes, pleading for her life, for Dirien’s and Al’mar’s too, in heavy whispers as the tremors continued for what felt like ages.

As they tapered, all was silent. There was nothing but the smothering thickness of smoke. Helaneth looked down at her hands, not yet sure whether to believe she’d survived. She poked her head out to find a perfect circle of scorched vegetation – and the Lus’rak nowhere to be seen.

Al’mar emerged with a bewildered tautness on his lips. He scanned in every direction, turning up short of an answer for the creature’s disappearance. What did catch his attention, however, was what he found in its place. There knelt a young woman, propped up on wobbling arms as she stared at the charred brush. Tears fell from her eyes, and her thin body quaked with sobs. Her lips moved, but no words formed. She shrunk back as Al’mar approached, flinching at the hand he offered.

“I’m sorry,” her weak voice croaked. She brushed a matted clump of chestnut hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” said Al’mar, his deep voice smooth and comforting. “It is all right, young lady. I have known many who lost control of their Lus’rakian summons. But precious few of them survived.”

“He started out so small,” said the young woman. “I never would have imagined…”

“I understand,” said Al’mar, once again offering his hand. She accepted this time, and his kind yet rigid gaze commanded her attention as he spoke. “It was not easy for this old man, either. The more I suffered in life, the more my sorrows battered down and weakened my soul’s door to Lusmir's domain. But I lived on. Rather than letting myself suffer more, I went to battle with my despair. Then I sifted through the detritus to piece together a fortress within myself, in place of that door, one that no demons can penetrate. Since then, young lady, they do not come knocking uninvited.”

“I suspect I have a long way to go in that regard.”

“Maybe so. It is a gift to begin with – knowing how to find and open that door. But when you become the keyholder, that is when you’ll know you’ve passed the test. Wherever you might be on that journey, know that so long as you are alive, you are doing quite fine.” Al’mar looked her over, taking pity on her poor condition. “Now, onto more immediate things – do you need help? Where were you headed?”

“Well, I wasn’t really headed anywhere. I had sort of hoped no one would find me, so I could…” she choked back a new swell of tears.

“I have felt that way, as well,” said Al’mar, regarding Helaneth with a nod as she approached. “But after fifty-five years on this plane, I have found a purpose. I have found camaraderie. From the looks of you, young lady, you still have a lifetime to do the same.”

“Thank you,” the young woman said, no longer holding back the flow of tears. “Um – what’s your name?”

“Al’mar.”

“I… I really do appreciate your kind words, Al’mar. I may have needed them more than I knew. I’m Jessa.”

“Oi, now wait a moment,” Hela chimed in, “We know of a Jessa.”

“That’s right,” said Al’mar. “The two leaders of our guild are always whispering about rent—”

“You’re from Valorforge,” said Jessa, her mouth agape.

“Oh, wow,” said Hela, “What in Lenkirn’s name is a monied lass like you doing out here?”

“Preferably never returning home. It’s a long story.”

“Aye, well, if you fancy coming along, you can tell us on the way back to the Brass Tusk. We’ve got everything done here that we needed to do – though we’ll have to stop at a healer on the way to get Dirien’s head checked out.”

“I suppose my original plan was to go back…” Jessa glanced between her two fellow guild members. “All right, then. Deventh and Anna are waiting for me to report back anyway. I’m ready when everyone else is.”

Helaneth and Al’mar both acknowledged her with a warm smile. It was getting late, and the desire to rest began tugging at the edges of their consciousness. After fetching Dirien and taking a quick survey of their own injuries, they made haste in their departure.