Sand, dust, wind—everything was being kicked up from the forceful blows exchanged between both combatants. For every dagger strike that struck true along Zerus’ body, she lashed out just as wildly. Her form was riddled with wounds. Blood seeped down her skin.

  Josier was no exception, either.

  She landed a clean hit, clawing two deep marks right across his chest, tearing through the suit he wore. The rest of his injuries, though, were mostly superficial.

  That wasn’t the case for Zerus.

  Even though she was more wounded, the blood that poured from her body—it was draining back into her pores. Slowly, but surely, she was healing. Regeneration. The black sigils rotating across her form made it hard to tell just how effective it truly was.

  As the fight dragged on, no words came from either side. Josier had always been quiet, but even in battle, he moved like a lone stalker—always shifting direction, striking from odd angles.

  Zerus’ eyes had lost their glow. Their figurative glow. Now, they burned a deep, resonating crimson; slitted pupils locked forward with rage. Her mind was gone. All that remained were the chains and sigils, puppeteering her body in a more primal, feral state.

  Enya and Pell had backed away, now standing near the forest’s boundary into the sands. They both watched—uncertain of how this would end. If Josier lost, Zerus could come for them next. Maybe not Enya, but for sure, Pell.

  “Zerus keeps getting worse,” Enya whispered. “She’s using more and more of it. Her body can’t keep up.”

  “You talking about those black runes on her body?” Pell asked. He stood tall, one step ahead of Enya, like a shield—though what little his body could actually do if she came for them was anyone’s guess.

  Enya nodded. “Those black symbols are connected to the chains. I can see them move every time the chains twitch inside her. If this keeps going, she might die.”

  “Good,” Pell said flatly. “One less demon in the world to wreck havoc.”

  Enya didn’t respond right away.

  Everything she knew about demons told her they were dangerous. They were supposed to be enemies. And being kidnapped by one didn’t help the image.

  But something was different. Zerus... felt different.

  Enya stared ahead as the fight continued.

  “We have to stop her. She doesn’t deserve to die.”

  Pell glanced over. His soul-flames burned steadily as he studied her. “She’s trying to kidnap you, kid. Probably trying to kill you too.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s a demon first and foremost. Slave or not. You think chains are a good enough reason to say she’s not dangerous? You don’t know what she’s done.”

  Enya’s hands curled into fists. “She didn’t hurt me. Not a single time.”

  Pell looked like he was about to argue again—but then paused. To him, Enya looked like she was caught in a storm of thoughts—ones she hadn’t figured out how to put into words.

  So, for now, he said nothing.

  “She could have hurt me. But she didn’t.” Her voice was quiet, but steady—spoken with purpose. “She said she had a family. But Pin took her. She didn’t want to do any of this. Everything she’s done… it’s because she was forced to.”

  She turned to Pell.

  “You were human before, right? But you’re a skeleton now. That doesn’t mean you’ve done bad things.”

  A massive cone of sand kicked up as another clash exploded between Zerus and Josier. Multiple trails slashed through the landscape; parted earth, scattered grit; each one was a mark of their speed and power, more wild and fierce than anything shown at the tournament so far.

  This was a strength that Enya simply couldn't comprehend wielding—either for herself, or any of her minions.

  Not yet.

  Perhaps, she’d grow strong enough to become like them. But for right now, this fight was out of her league.

  Pell stood straighter, his sockets tracking the movement. The two were too focused on their fight to notice them.

  He glanced back down at Enya. “I’ve done bad things before.”

  Enya shook her head. “But not as a skeleton, right? If you did anything bad… it wasn’t because you’re a skeleton. You probably had your reasons. I trust you.”

  “There are plenty of demons that’ll wipe out entire villages just for fun,” Pell muttered. But before she could respond, he sighed dryly. “But, point taken. If you think she’s worth saving, then you better have a real plan to back it up. She’s still trying to kill us. Trying to stop her without fighting back would be suicide.”

  The wind picked up again. The distant scrape of claws against the sand and various large stones rang out like rushing water and thunder in the large clearing.

  And inside Enya’s chest, a weight began to stir.

  What if I’m wrong? What if this doesn’t work?

  But her mind kept circling back to Zerus. To that voice. That quiet please, buried beneath the rage and blood and chains. That last flicker of vulnerability—right before Pin’s voice had cut through the crystal. She wanted to stop. Pin wouldn’t let her.

  “I have a plan,” Enya said. “I’m not sure exactly how to pull it off… but I have one.”

  Her eyes burned gold, bright with Absolute Focus, scanning every twitch of Zerus’ movement.

  The main thing she needed—was to isolate Zerus. Subdue her. Long enough to get close. Long enough to try to extract her Soul-Energy. Everything else… everything after… was just theory.

  “We have to get to Josier. Let him know what we’re doing,” Enya said.

  Pell groaned, already regretting his life decisions, but said nothing more to counter. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go.”

  With his sudden agreement, Enya held onto Pell’s hand. She was unsure how alright, he was with the plan. That was until, he took the lead and pulled her along.

  The two broke into a sprint, skirting the edge of the forest that split the desert in two. They circled wide, following the border of the battleground where Zerus and Josier still tore into each other with brutal, tireless momentum.

  “Josier!” Enya called as they neared.

  He heard her. She saw it in the way his footwork changed—spinning back into a looser stance, giving ground intentionally. One more clash, then another. Then—

  He dropped back.

  Blade against claw. He parried one final blow and let himself fall into a low dash, skimming across the field. Zerus didn’t follow right away. Her body jerked to a halt—twitching, like a puppet waiting for its next command.

  Josier skidded to a stop near them, breath ragged but steady, posture sharp.

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  “It’s tough, but I should be able to kill her in a few more minutes,” he said. “She’ll be—”

  “No!” Enya shouted.

  Josier turned, raising an eyebrow.

  She shook her head rapidly. “Don’t kill her. I don’t want her to die. She’s not doing this because she wants to. I want to save her instead.”

  His eyes bore into the young girl.

  It was a dangerous—and naive—suggestion. The person they were talking about wasn’t just unstable. She was a demon, one who had gone completely feral.

  “I have a plan,” Enya said. “I want to try something and see if it works. If it doesn’t… then… we can kill her.”

  Josier’s jaw tightened. He readjusted his suit, though the large slash marks across it made the motion feel unnecessary.

  “That’s a very tall order. I don’t think you can talk her down in her current state.”

  The three of them looked toward the ruined markings that trailed along in the sand from the fight.

  Zerus stood in the distance. Her eyes were bloodshot, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Her body twitched with every breath, ready to snap at anything that got too close. No words. No hesitation. Just a creature waiting to pounce.

  Josier didn’t speak. His eyes scanned her with cold precision.

  Then:

  “Alright. But if she endangers your life, or Pell’s—” his gaze flicked to the skeleton beside her, “I won’t hesitate to—”

  “That’s fine,” Enya said, her voice calm and unwavering. “I just want one chance. Just once. One shot.”

  She pointed behind them, toward the treeline.

  “I need her alone. Maybe pinned, stunned, or something. I just need time to stab her and grab her Soul-Energy..”

  Across the sands, Zerus stirred.

  The short pause was fading. The fight was about to resume.

  “I can’t subdue her while she’s focused on me,” Josier said quickly. “I can lure her into the forest, but—”

  “I can take care of that,” Pell interjected.

  Enya looked up, startled. “What?”

  He placed a bony hand on her head.

  “I’m going to start calling you a brat again for making me do something like this. But if you’re really set on saving her… if you’re that hellbent on it—then fine. I’ll help you. Just this once. But you owe me a favor after this. Deal?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Just… a favor? She might kill you. You’re not strong enough to fight her.”

  “Just a favor,” Pell repeated, half-incredulous. “Do you realize having a favor from a High-Noble is the best gift anyone can get? You’re worth a lot, kid.”

  He scoffed. It was mocking, light—but not dismissive.

  “Besides, I won’t be fighting her. Not directly.”

  He turned to Josier. “I just need you to lure her into the forest. Give me one minute. I’ll set up the distraction.”

  Josier gave him a quick glance, then turned his eyes back toward Zerus, who now trembled with pent-up energy, her claws flexing, runes alive.

  “…Alright.”

  Enya didn’t have time to respond.

  Motion resumed in an instant.

  Josier vanished like a flickering shadow, blades flashing as he pulled Zerus back into the fight. Zerus responded immediately, her body whipping forward in a blur of blood-red motion. The runes along her skin coiled and shimmered like snakes.

  Pell grabbed Enya’s arm. Together, they turned and sprinted into the forest. Trees closed in around them. Sand disappeared behind. The canopy swallowed the light.

  After a few beats of running, once they disappeared, she spoke up. “Why?” Enya asked, voice getting more rough as they ran at full speed. Agreeing to her plan so suddenly; even saying he’d put his life on the line—it was all out of character for him. It seemed almost too easy.

  Pell replied, though Enya couldn’t see the expression he made.

  “You remind me of when I was younger,” Pell said, voice flat. “I wanted to help the orphanage out—to stop that dirtbag noble from ruining everything.”

  A pause.

  “No one listened. I wanted to help out, but no one did anything or stepped forward. I suppose I’m getting a bit reminscent and pissed off. Maybe I want to help you and prove that everything will turn out okay.”

  Pell shook his head and grumbled. “Agh—just ignore everything I’ve said. Just pretend like I’m doing it to get a favor out of you. Favor from a High-Noble is worth a fortune,” he said with a chuckle.

  Enya could tell it was a fake one.

  A blur of thoughts came rushing in; her mind tried to reason the unnatural agreement by Pell.

  Just… what exactly had happened to Pell when he was younger? What had he seen in her that reminded him of himself? One, deep, burning question had lingered in her heart and mind for a long time.

  How important was Elara to Pell? What did she mean to him?

  They continued to run. “Thank you, Pell.” Enya said sincerely.

  A momentary pause. Not a long one. But a pause, all-the-same.

  “No problem, brat.”

  Several more strikes were exchanged in a blur of motion. With a clever feint and follow-through, one of Josier’s blades managed to carve deep into Zerus’ lower ankle. It sliced through flesh—blood poured as muscle throbbed beneath.

  Each step she took embedded a new stain into the sand.

  She snarled—but she didn’t fall.

  The wound wasn’t enough to stop her outright, but it made her falter. Every few strides, there was a hitch. A drag. A rhythm-breaking unevenness that stood out to a seasoned fighter’s eye.

  Josier stayed at range, letting his shadow daggers continue the pressure—circling her, striking from all sides. He exhaled slowly, sweat sliding along his jaw and down his collarbone.

  He was holding back.

  And for an assassin, holding back wasn’t easy.

  One of her counterattacks had raked across his arm—shallow, but bleeding. Not enough to hinder him yet, though left untreated, it could get worse. Infection. Nerve damage. Diminished grip.

  His suit was shredded now, frayed at the shoulder and midriff. Which was unfortunate.

  He rather liked that suit.

  More shadow-clones surged forward—flickering reflections of himself, each wielding identical daggers. They struck only once, whether they hit or not, before fading like ash in wind.

  One blade hit. Two missed. Another grazed her shoulder. A final one struck deep into her thigh.

  Zerus growled, turning sharply—still driven forward.

  Josier kept circling, calm and efficient. Each movement, each step—calculated. He was guiding her. Herding her, like a predator with too much patience.

  Then, he activated a skill.

  Not flashy. Not even visible.

  But it was deadly in its own right.

  It was a skill passed down through nearly every rogue and assassin discipline—regardless of class. A raw, honed weapon of instinct.

  Killing intent.

  The air warped. A ripple of pressure slammed into the space around them—dense, suffocating. A sudden drop in temperature, like a cave inhaling beneath the surface. It struck Zerus like a wall, like a silent scream—slamming against her senses with a force that couldn’t be seen but felt.

  Her breath caught.

  Muscles locked.

  Her back arched, claws twitching.

  Her body snapped—and she launched straight toward Josier.

  She sprinted in a wild rush, eyes still glowing with that deep, blood-red shine. Her claws extended, twitching at the tips. The blood across her body began to retreat even faster, veins draining it back in like coiling serpents. The black runes had nearly overtaken her form—her darkened skin now almost completely cloaked in that ominous, living ink.

  Josier turned on his heel and vanished into the trees.

  Zerus followed.

  She tore through the underbrush, slashing through low-hanging branches without pause.

  She was fast. Faster than most things had a right to be.

  Up ahead, the trees broke into an opening.

  A clearing surrounded by trees and dense brush.

  Not large, but open. The surrounding trees grew thick, almost wild. Shrubs and thickets lined the edges, boxing in the space like a natural trap. Light filtered down in scattered rays, shadows shifting restlessly through the canopy above.

  Zerus skidded to a halt.

  Josier was gone. His presence vanished completely.

  But someone else stood in the clearing.

  A skeleton.

  Pell.

  He was cloaked in a dark, shadow-wrapped mantle. Black smoke curled from the edges like flame trapped in a jar. It pulsed faintly, wrapping his frame in an unnatural stillness.

  Beside him—Enya. Her target. The girl stood motionless. Pale. Small. Obedient.

  Pell’s skeletal hand rested on her head.

  The other hand held a knife.

  It was aimed at Enya’s throat.

  Zerus’ breathing caught. Her heart skipped several beats—chains impaled deep into it jolting with a violent tremor. Her body surged with power, pressure bursting from every fiber.

  Pell grinned wide, tilting his skull slightly.

  “Your mission was to capture her, right?” he said, voice echoing with smug cruelty. “Would be a shame if she… died.”

  Zerus didn’t reply.

  She exploded forward.

  Her claws tore through the air. Her legs kicked off the ground with a sonic snap. Rage blazed in her eyes, no thought in her movements—just instinct. Just mission. Just fury.

  Pell’s soul-flames widened. “Oh crap—.”

  But just before Zerus reached him—mere meters away—

  A storm of daggers slammed into her from above.

  Blades pierced both arms. Then both legs. Her momentum shattered—she stumbled, roaring in frustration as she lost her balance. Before she could even look at what attacked her—Josier dropped from the above canopy like a thunderbolt.

  He crashed down with both feet into her back, driving her into the earth like a beast; she was pinned by predator, beneath its paw. The air quaked from the impact as Zerus was slammed into the dirt.

  She howled. A deep, guttural, demonic screech ripped through the clearing, shaking leaves loose from the branches above.

  Her gaze darted forward despite the pain, looking back up at her target.

  Pell still stood there. But Enya?

  Gone.

  She flickered. Her body unraveled into ribbons of shadow, dispersing like smoke in the breeze.

  As for the knife in Pell’s hand?

  That, was gone, too.

  Smoke dissipated, revealing a simple, knotted tree branch in its place.

  It was all an illusion.

  The cloak surrounding the skeleton flickered; the shadows emanating from it coalesced into the previous forms of Enya and the knife. It was an artifact that could create illusions—and due to Zerus’ deteroriated mental state—she had fallen so easily for such a simple trick.

  Immediately after, a pair of hurried steps ran through the forest ground, crunching on the greenery of twigs and leaves.

  “And—here!” came Enya’s shout.

  Following it was another immediate howl of pain.

  Zerus’ eyes peeked behind herself momentarily. There—she spotted Enya.

  The bonecarver’s quill was successfully embedded, stabbed deep into Zerus’ leg. And once it made contact, the chains around Zerus’ heart began to shudder. It beat; it pounded hard within the glass chamber.

  Zerus' body trembled. Something was happening to her. Something worse and more uncomfortable than pain. Her body was riddled with wounds and gashes, even the sting from the blades that pierced her arms and legs didn't compare to this new pressure.

  Something was happening within her.

  Something, to her soul.