"So... is there any other way?"

  "Hmm... prayer."

  "Prayer?"

  "Yes. Pray to the Triad of Destiny, perhaps a horse might materialize from thin air..."

  The undergrowth rustled with approaching footsteps. Ivan Northes drew his short sword with practiced vigilance while Lostya retreated behind him. "Don't look to me for assistance, knight," she warned. "Without Source, I'm utterly powerless."

  Hoofbeats approached with rhythmic precision. The sorceress peered around Ivan's shoulder, then broke into crystalline laughter. "Look there—a horse! Behold the power of prayer, knight."

  The black steed caught Ivan's scent and cantered toward him.

  "Black Lilac..." Ivan recognized the mount instantly. The sorceress's laughter died in her throat, her face draining of color. Another figure slumped across the saddle. "Old Mackenzie..." Ivan whispered. (Or what remains of him.)

  The corpse astride the horse still retained its warmth. Old Mackenzie was sprawled across the saddle, his left foot trapped in the stirrup as if he might slide off at any moment. His right hand clutched a gold-hilted dagger coated with rust-colored blood. Of his right leg, only jagged bone fragments remained.

  Lostya covered her mouth and retreated several paces. Ivan Northes maintained a stoic expression, as if he had long prepared himself for this inevitable outcome. He approached the horse and carefully lifted Kendrick Mackenzie down, struggling with the left foot caught in the stirrup. "Could you assist me, Lady Lostya?" he asked after considerable effort.

  The sorceress shook her head and retreated further. The knight sighed deeply.

  The horse wandered several paces away and began grazing nonchalantly. "How did it find us?" Lostya's voice filtered through her fingers.

  "By scent—mine and Black Lily's," the knight explained. "And Old Mackenzie must have guided it. He was likely still alive when Black Lilac began searching for us..." His gaze lingered on Mackenzie's mangled thigh, where shreds of flesh barely clung to exposed bone. Lostya squeezed her eyes shut.

  "...A hero," Ivan murmured reverently.

  "What did you say?" she inquired.

  "He slew the wolf," Ivan Northes stated. "Otherwise, Black Lilac could never have reached us unscathed." He studied the rage frozen in the old man's glazed eyes, as if the Dire Wolf still stood before him. An ineffable sorrow washed over him.

  The sorceress nodded in acknowledgment, stroked the horse's neck, and mounted it. "What are you doing?" Ivan questioned sharply.

  "Now that we have transport, it's time to depart," Lostya declared imperiously from her elevated position. "I suppose I shall permit you to ride with me."

  "Not yet," Ivan Northes countered, shaking his head firmly. "We must provide him proper burial."

  "Bury that old man?" Lostya challenged. "Every moment we linger increases our peril. That blood scent could attract any manner of predator."

  The elite knight's resolve was unshakable. "I must do this. If you refuse to help, then wait aside." He began digging into the earth with his short sword.

  Lostya's delicate lashes fluttered twice before she dismounted. "I'll assist you, knight. Sheathe your blade."

  She knelt gracefully on one knee, her left hand grasping the pendant at her throat while her right palm rested lightly on the soil. Her lips moved in whispered incantation. (Ancient tongue...) Ivan listened with rapt attention, fascinated by this rare proximity to arcane casting. (Pity I comprehend almost nothing...)

  "...Σε παρακαλ? δ?σε μου δ?ναμη, μικρ? ξωτικ? του εδ?φου?," she concluded in a reverent whisper. The pendant at her breast erupted with luminescence, rays of light spilling between her fingers. The earth before her began to shift and stir, particles of soil rising into the air. Ivan felt tremors beneath his feet and stepped back cautiously. The agitated earth spread outward from a central point, as if countless invisible hands excavated simultaneously from all directions. A non-rotating vortex formed, digging progressively deeper until reaching appropriate depth, then stilled. "This should suffice," she announced, withdrawing her hand.

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  "Truly... magnificent Source manipulation," Ivan remarked with genuine awe.

  "Indeed... verging on magnificent. Though this magic was never meant for human wielding," she replied cryptically. Ivan yearned for elaboration, but she had already ceased speaking with perfect timing.

  "I shall safeguard these, old friend," Ivan Northes said solemnly, collecting the Royal Courier badge and gilt dagger. After momentary hesitation, he also claimed the wine flask hanging at the old man's belt.

  The sorceress stood at a distance, arms crossed impatiently. By the time Ivan had maneuvered the corpse into the earthen pit, she had retreated even further. "Must I replace the soil myself?" he inquired.

  Lostya shook her head and motioned him aside. Crouching once more, she repeated her earlier spellwork, causing the disturbed earth to flow back into place of its own accord. "There—happy now?" she asked, tilting her head. "Want me to conjure up a gravestone or something?"

  Before the elite knight could respond, she doubled over and vomited violently. The sorceress half-turned away, clutching her abdomen as her body convulsed. Ivan moved toward her but halted at her outstretched palm. "Keep your distance. It's revolting."

  "Did you use too much magic?" Ivan asked, worried.

  "No..." Lostya gasped between heaves. "Merely the aftereffects of reverting from White Wyvern-Heigel form to human physiology. A most unpleasant transition... an unavoidable side effect. All transformation spells carry this burden. Damnation... it will pass momentarily."

  "You're not going to start flapping your arms and try to fly, are you?" Ivan joked, flapping his arms like a bird.

  Lostya attempted laughter but retched more violently for her trouble. "You... insufferable... stand elsewhere..."

  She required several minutes to reacclimate to human form. "Knight," she called, shielding her mouth with one hand as she turned toward him. Ivan found her disheveled state oddly endearing. "Why do you regard me thus?" Her abdomen rose and fell with each breath, causing her perfectly formed breasts to tremble subtly. "I've no intention of kissing you in this state, so cease your ghostly staring." She extended her hand imperiously. "Have you water?"

  "Only remaining wine," the knight replied, indicating the flask.

  "Surrender it."

  Lostya rinsed her mouth thoroughly before swallowing several substantial gulps of the potent spirits. (She drinks impressively for a woman,) Ivan observed privately. (And with complete disregard for etiquette...)

  "Indeed, I drink prodigiously and with utter disregard for decorum," she declared, resealing the flask and tossing it back to Ivan. "Don't appear so startled—some sorcerers possess mind-reading capabilities. Knight, approach and kiss me."

  "Pardon?" Ivan Northes stammered incredulously. "You wish me to... kiss you, my lady? At this moment?"

  "Precisely what I said," she confirmed, lowering her hood and running slender fingers through her cascade of ebony hair. "Promptly, now. I shan't repeat myself." She shed her borrowed cloak completely and placed her hands defiantly on her hips.

  "But I—"

  "Kiss me," the sorceress commanded with icy authority. "Or I shall transform you into an insect. The most repulsive variety imaginable."

  Ivan Northes sighed in resignation. As he bent toward her, she rose onto her toes and swiftly encircled his neck with her arms. "Surely this isn't your first romantic encounter?" she questioned suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "Your hands—are they paralyzed? They belong on my person." Ivan complied immediately.

  "...On my back, fool, not my posterior!"

  They shared a lingering kiss, primarily directed by the sorceress. "You truly are... magnificently wooden," she remarked upon breaking contact. "Completely inexperienced, aren't you?"

  The knight maintained dignified silence. "No matter. There's a certain charm to it. I shall claim your first kiss as my own..." Her words were abruptly silenced as Ivan captured her lips with unexpected passion. The knight kissed her deeply, gently sucking her tender lips while his hands traversed from her back to her shoulders, then caressed her midnight hair and the delicate ears concealed within. She responded by playfully nipping his lower lip. "Enough..." the sorceress whispered, her breath hot against his mouth and cheeks flushed crimson. "You're poking me."

  Ivan Northes glanced downward, acutely aware of his arousal. A complex sensation of pleasure mingled with discomfort surged through him as Lostya's hand found its target. "Truthfully, I find you quite appealing, my 'wooden' knight," she whispered intimately against his ear. "I desire you carnally, do you understand? But not here—I've no wish to be devoured by beasts mid-coitus." She gently disengaged herself and retrieved the fallen cloak. "Come, knight. You shall ride forward. I have no desire for your 'lance' to prod my backside throughout our journey."

  "Can you not conjure proper attire?" Ivan grumbled as he assisted the sorceress onto the horse.

  "Impossible," Lostya replied, securing her arms around the knight's waist. "I can vanish existing garments but cannot manifest distant or nonexistent objects..." Her voice grew fainter, tinged with exhaustion. She rested her head against his broad back.

  Ivan Northes felt her body pressed intimately against him, her warm breasts unmistakable against his spine. "Perhaps you might—"

  "No, I cannot..." she murmured drowsily. "You demand excessively... With you, knight, I shall refuse everything, 'impossible' one... Now, proceed..."

  The knight applied gentle pressure to Black Lilac's flanks. The steed issued a single clear whinny before moving forward with purposeful strides.

  Her breathing settled into a steady, rhythmic pattern against his back.