The skirmish ended as quickly as it had begun. Marta and her guards regrouped, driving the remainder of the bandits back into the trees with the threat of overwhelming retaliation.

  Kindle sat atop a collapsed bandit, her legs crossed daintily at the ankle. "Was that the fantasy world equivalent of a 'quick robbery, Darryl' moment for these poor souls? 'C'mon, guys, let's mug the flame-throwing superwomen, it'll be fun'?"

  Ember, surveying the aftermath, let out a soft sigh. "Maybe for you. You're practically thrumming with pent-up energy."

  "Are you volunteering to help me burn it off?" Kindle waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I'm open to suggestions, especially if they involve pillow fights and fluffy robes."

  Cinder coughed, the sound half laughter, half exasperation. "Get your mind out of the proverbial gutter, Kindle. We have a situation to deal with."

  She gestured toward the pile of groaning bodies scattered around the caravan. Their once-threatening adversaries were reduced to cradling broken limbs and bruised egos. Cinder had to admit, they'd made short work of the bandits.

  "Hashtag goals," Kindle replied, hopping off her perch to land in the grass with a sprightly twirl. "Or whatever the fantasy version of a hashtag is. Sword-emoji, maybe?"

  "Speaking of fantasy versions," Ember said, turning to her sister-selves, "I don't think these guys are gonna make it out of here alive."

  The others followed her gaze to where a group of caravan guards was prodding the captured bandits into a line, expressions grim. From Marta's posture alone, it was clear she was in no mood for mercy.

  "Yeah, I guess this is what happens to criminals here," Cinder replied, her tone subdued. "No court systems, no jails..."

  Ember winced as one of the guards stabbed a bandit straight through the heart, leaving him to convulse and die. "Public execution isn't my idea of justice."

  "Better them than us," Kindle replied, her earlier joy dimming. "But I don't think we signed up to be a part of this kind of brutality."

  "Self-defense," Cinder argued, though her voice lacked conviction.

  The bandits begged and pleaded, but one by one, Marta's guards executed them, showing no emotion. This wasn't their first time dealing with brigands, and it certainly wouldn't be their last.

  After the last body stilled, Marta approached the women. Her expression was as inscrutable as ever, though a new wariness now colored her appraisal of them.

  "You four," she said flatly. "Burn the bodies. To ash. Leave no trace."

  "What the hell?" Kindle exclaimed, eyes wide. "That's so... messed up!"

  Marta's eyes narrowed. "This land has enough ghosts without unburnt bones wandering about. And leaving corpses invites all kinds of scavengers. Unpleasant ones. So we burn. No arguments."

  "But..." Ember's voice trailed off, the horror of their task choking her words.

  "Do it, or walk the rest of the way to Amaranth." With that, Marta spun on her heel, calling orders to her guards to get the caravan moving again.

  "This isn't like torching random wildlife," Kindle whispered, her eyes lingering on the pitiful line of corpses.

  Ember closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. "No, it isn't."

  Ash stepped forward, hands weaving an intricate dance. Threads of fire snaked out from her hand, a funeral shroud of flame that enveloped the bodies.

  Moments later, she withdrew her hand, allowing the flames to dissipate. Not even bones remained.

  "We are not the villains," Ash said quietly, her voice barely carrying over the wind. "Remember that."

  The caravan moved on, leaving behind only scorch marks to remember the dead by. Cinder couldn't shake the feeling that, in a way, they were all complicit in the bloodshed, willingly or not.

  The remainder of the day passed in subdued silence.

  Where once their wagon had been a space filled with laughter and banter, now the four women retreated into their own thoughts, the weight of the roadside execution hanging heavy over them.

  Cinder, always the most pragmatic of the group, kept her eyes forward as she drove the wagon, her fingers tight on the reins. Ember sat beside her, an uncharacteristic furrow in her brow as she stared off at the horizon.

  "It's not like we haven't killed before," she said abruptly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

  Ember glanced at her. "In self-defense, when there was no other choice. This felt different."

  "That's the law of the land," Cinder argued. "We can't expect these people to act like 21st-century police. What were they supposed to do with a bunch of bandits, provide room and board until the next town?"

  Ash, always a source of sobering wisdom, interjected from behind them. "It is natural for morality to contextualize to surroundings. Our own world has a long history of situational ethics, both progressive and barbaric."

  "I thought I was the pragmatic one," Cinder muttered under her breath, reaching up to massage her temple, the dull headache still present. "Is it getting worse for anyone else? Because my head feels like it's being slowly squeezed in a vise."

  The others nodded, wincing in silent confirmation. What had begun as a mild annoyance that morning had intensified throughout the day, becoming a constant, throbbing discomfort that refused to abate.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Kindle, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, reclined among their supplies, her face screwed up in a frown. "Let's just say our bedrolls and I are on intimate terms this evening. This headache is making it hard to be a charming companion."

  "A truth shared by us all," Ash acknowledged, the faintest hint of discomfort tightening her mouth.

  "If Pyra was here," Cinder said, her eyes still on the road, "she'd probably complain, then try to distract us with her usual antics."

  Kindle lifted her head from the blankets, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, she did teach me that tongue trick..."

  Ember shot her a look. "Now is not the time for impromptu lessons."

  Kindle pouted theatrically, slumping back against the wagon. "Worth a try. But seriously, what's our plan for dealing with this? It feels like... pressure building."

  "Like too much energy trying to exist in too little space," Ember added, staring at her hands where flames flickered with unusual intensity despite her attempts to suppress them. "I feel like I might spontaneously combust, and not in the fun Pyra way."

  Ash's smoky tendrils had grown more agitated, curling and uncurling in erratic patterns. "Four vessels attempting to contain five essences. The mathematics of soul distribution remain imperfect."

  As dusk approached, Marta called for a final rest before the push to Amaranth's gates. The caravan halted beside a small stream, allowing the kraal to drink while travelers stretched cramped limbs.

  Unlike previous stops, however, the four women remained aboard their wagon, too uncomfortable to socialize and increasingly concerned about their worsening condition.

  "Could we be reaching some kind of limit?" Ember wondered, massaging her temples in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. "Maybe there's a time constraint on how long we can maintain this merged state."

  Cinder pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "That would have been useful information for Nyx to share when she cursed us."

  "When has any villain ever provided clear user instructions?" Kindle pointed out, her attempt at humor undermined by the strain in her voice. "Next time we get cursed, we should request a manual."

  "There may be a solution hidden within the problem itself," Ash suggested, her philosophical insight cutting through the pain with unexpected clarity. "If four vessels cannot indefinitely contain five essences..."

  She trailed off, but the implication hung in the air between them.

  "You think we need to... what, expel the extra energy?" Cinder asked, frowning.

  "Perhaps. Or expend it. Utilize it to re-establish equilibrium," Ash elaborated. "Our powers have expanded, become wilder, yet we continue to restrain ourselves as before. Nature abhors a vacuum; magic surely dislikes excess."

  Kindle leaned forward, eyes alight. "So you're saying we need to set something on fire?"

  "Preferably before we go critical and take out half the caravan in the process," Ember added.

  "I'd rather avoid burning a giant 'we were here' message across the landscape," Cinder grumbled. "We're conspicuous enough already."

  Ash inclined her head thoughtfully. "An act of controlled release seems our best option. Expend a substantial amount of energy, regain equilibrium."

  Ember sighed and rubbed her forehead. "And the sooner, the better. I don't know how much more of this my head can take."

  "So what, we go torch an empty field or something?" Cinder asked, looking decidedly unenthused by the idea. "This is hardly heroic work."

  "Self-care can be heroic when circumstances demand it," Ash pointed out.

  "Yeah, I'm sure they'll write stories about the brave fire maidens who valiantly combusted the countryside to preserve their health," Cinder replied drily.

  Ember let out an involuntary laugh, then groaned and clutched her temples. "Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

  Cinder looked at her, brow furrowed, then sighed. "Alright, let's... go set fire to nothing, I guess."

  Marta shot them a questioning glance as they disembarked from their wagon. "Where are you four off to?"

  "Private matters," Cinder replied curtly. "Women's issues."

  Marta blanched slightly, then nodded, clearly not wanting to get involved. "Don't wander too far. If we're moving out before you're back, you'll find us on the main road."

  "We'll manage," Ember assured her, struggling to keep a straight face despite her pounding headache.

  Once Martha left, Kindle grinned weakly. "Women's business? Really?"

  Cinder shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

  They slipped away from the main camp, following the small stream until they discovered a clearing surrounded by rocky outcroppings—natural barriers that might contain whatever was about to happen.

  Ember sighed heavily, glancing between her sister-selves. "So, should we just... let loose?"

  "Whatever gets this damn pressure out of my head," Cinder growled, already flexing her hands, causing orange flames to flare in her palms.

  They arranged themselves in a loose circle, instinctively falling into the pattern they would have formed with Pyra—leaving a conspicuous gap where their fifth would have stood.

  Their flames flickered into life, the heat building as they gradually surrendered their iron self-control. Fire engulfed them, rising up their limbs and flowing across their bodies.

  "One unbridled fiery catharsis coming up," Kindle said with a weak attempt at cheerfulness.

  The others looked to Ember, who nodded her readiness. "On three, we cut loose. One... two..."

  "Three," they chorused, and in that instant, the ground beneath them erupted into flames.

  Four streams of fire erupted skyward, converging in a twisting column that illuminated the clearing like a sudden sunrise. The flames spiraled together, white-hot at the core, bleeding out to orange and crimson as they danced high above the treetops.

  Relief was immediate—like uncorking a pressurized bottle. The headaches receded as the fires blazed, washing away tension and discomfort.

  "Oh, that feels better," Kindle sighed, her face relaxing for the first time in hours.

  "Don't stop," Cinder cautioned, still channeling her flames upward. "We need to expel as much of this excess as possible."

  "Just a little longer," Ember agreed, her eyes reflecting the brilliance of their combined flames.

  The torrent of fire poured forth, tongues of flame reaching higher and higher until they seemed to kiss the very clouds.

  Then, with a sound like a thunderclap, the flames collapsed inward, condensing into solid form with startling suddenness. Light flashed, momentarily blinding them all.

  When their vision cleared, Pyra stood among them.

  A very naked, very confused-looking Pyra.

  "Holy flaming crapbaskets!" she exclaimed, staggering slightly as if getting her balance. She blinked, looked down at herself, and blurted out, "Where the heck are my clothes?"

  Her sister-selves could only stare, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Then, in unison, all four of them shouted:

  "Pyra!"

  Kindle let out a shriek of joy, hurling herself at Pyra and wrapping her in a fierce hug that sent them both tumbling to the ground. "You're back! You're actually back!"

  "How did—what did—?" Ember stammered, kneeling to join the embrace. Cinder and Ash followed, enveloping their newly materialized fifth in a chaotic, laughing, sobbing group hug.

  Pyra, still bewildered, managed a shaky laugh. "Um, okay, this is really sweet, but can someone please explain what's happening? And find me some freaking pants!"