Julia awoke to sunlight filtering through the canopy, warming the chill from the previous night. She sat up and glanced around to find all three elves sitting near each other, munching on rations. Taln?r, who looked considerably less pale this morning, noticed her and motioned her over.

  “Good morning, Julia. We were just discussing what our next actions should be,” he explained as Julia sat nearby, pulling out and munching on her own rations. She nodded and gave Trixy some pets as an apology for disturbing her by getting up.

  "You appear remarkably well, despite the damage you sustained. Are you perhaps immune to the nashiin's rot?" Sahira asked through bites of jerky.

  "Not immune, no. Part of being a demi-spirit is having a Mana Body that can take on aspects of the magic I wield. The magic that scours the corruption out of our bodies was flooding my entire form, so no corruption infested me. Then, any wounds to my body simply require mana to heal," Julia explained, in between bites.

  "The bloodbolts? That red lightning was suffusing not just the water but your body itself?" Sahira questioned. At Julia's nod, she shuddered and continued. "I see. That is impressive magic. Your body of mana would also explain why you have been...droopy since your collapse. I assume without mana, your body's shape loses some of its rigidity."

  Julia's cheeks colored at the thought of her body running extremely low on mana and "drooping." Sahira must've noticed her embarrassment, as she quickly shifted subjects. "I must also thank you for healing my wound. You've saved me twice over now."

  Julia smiled and nodded at her. "You were talking about what to do next?"

  “Indeed. We have a brief respite, but we should not count on it lasting. We must make haste while they still dally,” Sahira said.

  “Unless Dahm'Zahra saw something I did not, we linger at the same impasse as yesterday. The fell barges still patrol the marsh, barring both entry and exit. Their patrols are regular but erratic. I could not find a rhyme or reason for their coming and going, only that they do so at all hours. This makes it difficult to predict,” Nadhem groused.

  “I think the barges are just bait. There is an entirely separate army of nashiin under the water. They lie on the bed of the marsh, motionless as corpses, but my sight can detect their burning purple flames.

  “There are nashiin of all types down there, from dreg skeletons to fellblades. My suspicion is that the barges draw any attacks to them, and the submerged nashiin emerge once attackers have taken the bait,” Julia explained.

  The three’s expressions grew dour, any hope of returning home seeming further away every day.

  “I have the beginnings of an idea, actually,” Julia said. There was something she’d been working over in her head since she’d seen those submerged undead. She thought there might be a way to use the undead presence under the water to their own advantage.

  “May I examine those…shoe-boats that you strap to your feet to glide over the water?” she asked.

  Nadhem pulled a pair off his back. They kept them strapped to their packs and folded when not in use. “They are the raqsalin. I will lend you mine for inspection,” he said.

  Julia took the raqsala, nodding to Nadhem as she did. “These are wood!?” she exclaimed. She looked up and reexamined the three elves. “Is…all of your brown equipment wood? I thought it was some kind of super-lightweight metal!”

  Taln?r chuckled and explained while the others smiled. “All is wood, yes. It comes from the Mother herself. The great spirit tree drops her branches and bark occasionally, and we use it for a great many things. It is as strong as any iron while also being far more mana-conductive than even mithril.

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  “We do not harvest wood from the Mother directly, only picking up the pieces she discards, so it is rather valuable. Each piece is labored over with care, and great attention is paid to what is made from it. To possess a piece of the Mother herself is one of the largest honors and responsibilities any of the Jadhariin can have,” he finished with reverence.

  Julia was suddenly quite a bit more trepidatious about what she was going to suggest. She examined the runes carved into the bottom of the raqsala with admiration. They were spectacularly carved—each so small and precise that she had to hold them close enough to her face to bump her nose while reading.

  “Alright…well, I think this will work, but it’s going to involve me making some slight modifications to your raqsalin…” she said, slightly nervous to even suggest it.

  The elves all looked at each other before Nadhem spoke.

  “We already owe you our lives, Dahm'Zahra. If ‘slight modifications’ to our raqsalin are all it takes to make it home, it will be a small price to pay,” he said with the other two nodding behind him.

  Julia smiled, happy at their trust. “Excellent, then here’s my suggestion…”

  Gohlmer floated above the water of the swamp, pensive. These elves had been a thorn in his side for a week. He wanted no more setbacks.

  He gazed at the great host assembled before him. The assembled marghul spanned the gauntlet of unlife—from basic, shambling skeletons up to the malicious revenants, all baying for the blood of the living.

  There were none of the thol’gurat, the elites, assembled here, but that couldn’t be helped. One had to be a Barrowlord or above to be counted among the thol’gurat, and any of those out in this tepid backwater had responsibilities of their own.

  A great cacophony sounded from off in the distance. Gohlmer was unconcerned at first, this vile swamp was always doing something to distract him. The noise continued until he was forced to pay attention, and he soon saw a cloud of billowing smoke rising in the distance.

  Well, isn’t that curious? Swamps don’t usually catch fire without lightning or some other impetus.

  Now, just because he had a great host assembled didn’t mean he had withdrawn all his forces—not even close. It was completely possible those poor sods had stumbled upon some of the more ambient forces he’d positioned around the swamp. Why they would attempt to burn the bones to end them was beyond him, but fleshy creatures weren’t known for their intelligence.

  At a simple mental command, the host marched toward the source of the smoke. This army, while not quick, was a terror that would overcome the living like a wave of death.

  It took approximately an hour for the host to arrive, by which point a cluster of trees had become smoldering ash—a magic fire, then. Gohlmer scanned the surroundings for signs of life, noting the pieces of skeletons beneath the surface of the water. There had been conflict, certainly, but where did the elves go?

  He caught movement from a ways away and directed his host toward it while floating ahead. It was them—or, one of them, at least. The girl—the human one—she was here. She was dashing between trees in a way that was difficult for him to comprehend. She seemed to just disappear and reappear at a different tree.

  Gohlmer was no fool. Basic Illusion Magic could not fool his eyes. This, however, was no illusion. There was undeniable life within the girl. He was uninterested in puzzling out exactly what she was doing. Whatever magic the girl was using could be extrapolated from her corpse.

  He brought his staff forward, casting a quick Death Bolt that impacted the girl faster than an arrow could fly. She…vanished. She didn’t die—there was no corpse. She simply poofed out of existence.

  She appeared again off to his right. Another quick Death Bolt, and another dematerialization. These were not illusions—they couldn’t be! Illusions couldn’t possess life of their own!

  The girl appeared again, several trees away, and this time she increased her speed by an order of magnitude—still pathetic. Death Bolt was not concerned with her speed, obliterating her near-instantly.

  Yet, once again, she appeared off in the distance—positively glowing with life. What the hell was going on here?!