A witch was impaled on Kreivos’ sword, her mouth open in a silent scream. She was in shock, he knew, but the agony would soon come. Good. A quick death was too kind a fate for those who partake in witchcraft. An eternity of torment was all that she deserved. A sword through her lungs was a fatal wound, Kreivos knew, especially with his holy flame burning her organs, but it was one that could be healed by potion or magic. That was unacceptable. Heart, brain, neck, those were his targets. Kreivos removed his sword from the wretch and watched as she slumped to her knee’s weakly, unimaginable pain in her eyes. The paladin raised his sword high in a strike that would cleave her head in two. But just as his blade fell, the lid of a trash can flew out of the wall of flame he had previously created and struck his sword. Normally, that wouldn’t have done much to impede him, but the lid was magically propelled and impacted his blade with a blast of force that even his strength couldn’t resist. It didn’t end there either. After the lid deflected the paladin's sword, it ricocheted two more times, first against a wall and then a nearby stall, before finally hitting Kreivos in the side of the head. It flew with the speed of a crossbow bolt and hit with the weight of a Warhammer. Even so, Kreivos did not fall, even as blood trickled from the side of his head where he had been hit. A mere annoyance.

  Spellcraft, but not hers. Nor that of the draconist behind me. The mage then. THEY WILL ALL BURN. I must not let the witch escape; the rest will face their punishment afterwards.

  Now ready for interference, Kreivos moved once again. Shuka had started to gasp for air and choke on the blood filling her lungs, rendering her unable to fight back. Good. A barrel filled with apples flew at Kreivos from behind, thrown at him by the purple dragon’s daughter. It flew too slowly. Kreivos smashed the barrel with his off hand, sending apples and splinters flying. It was a distraction. Hidden behind the barrel was a blast of purple force energy, several times more powerful than the force bolts she’d sent at him before. It sent him off balance, and unable to take advantage of the witch’s vulnerability. That was the only opportunity the quanso needed. He was still on the ground, blood flowing from his head, but he was pushing himself up, at least enough to get his feet on the ground. That was all he needed as a flash of magic ignited on his greaves and sent him hurtling past Kreivos with unnatural speed. The quanso grabbed Shuka, and before the paladin could run the both of them through, ran into the wall of holy flame. He tried to protect his villainous companion from the fires of Kreivos’ fury, only to suffer the burns himself. Though he screamed in pain, he pressed on with misguided courage. Forward, Kreivos stepped, but he did not get far before he felt fell magics corrupt his senses. A blanket of darkness fell over his vision, accompanied by the stench of arcana. It mattered not; he had the witch's scent, and now there would be no escape from the bloodhound of justice.

  *

  Everything was… fuzzy. And painful. Shuka was worried about something, wasn’t she? She couldn’t remember, except that it probably had to do with her difficulty breathing and the pain in her chest. She felt like she was drowning. Probably because she was. Blood filled her scorched lung, her wound not quite cauterized enough to prevent the bleeding. Was that by design? Shuka was in too much pain to consider it. She was moving, shaking up and down in such a painful way. Why? Did it have to do with the worried face of a quanso she saw above her? Something cold touched Shuka’s lips, glass, it felt like. A potion bottle. A liquid that tasted like a forgotten but pleasant dream entered her mouth and found its way down her throat. It made the dying girl cough painfully and almost caused the potion to come up with the blood. Luckily, it did not, and the pain she felt became far sharper, as the haze of death began to lift from her. She tried to scream, but her lungs were still filled with blood, and she started to cough violently instead. Then, when that wasn’t enough, she vomited. Red blood fell to the pavement with a sickening splat. Then again, and again. Finally, on her fourth heave, she had no more blood to evacuate from her lungs. Just the sight of that much blood on the ground might have made her nauseous, but Xorvos was still carrying her, and he never stopped running. The blood soon disappeared from her sight, at least the stuff on the ground. There was still plenty dripping from her chin and covering Xorvos’ legs. It didn’t matter much; there were still plenty of reasons to be nauseous, like blood loss and being a passenger on someone else's mad dash for their life. The pain was beginning to recede, not disappear completely, but it was now the dull pain of a mostly healed wound. It gave Shuka enough clarity to fully take in her current situation. Xorvos was carrying her under one arm and was dashing through the busy streets of Sidus. Well, busy as they were, no one was getting in his way, not even the guards who were shouting at him to stop. Why was that? And why was she so hot? Then, she noticed a flicker of white at the edge of her vision.

  “Xorvos, you’re on fire!”

  There it was, white holy flame burning bright on Xorvos’ back and shoulders.

  “It’s fine. Can you run?”

  He grunted out the question through clenched teeth. It was very obviously not fine.

  “Can I run? Probably not fast enough; my chest still hurts, and it’s a bit hard to breathe. Where are we going?”

  “Don’t know. Melia is leading me somewhere. Not the guild; it’s not safe.”

  Melia? I don’t see her anywhere. Oh wait, is that Scurry ahead of us?

  It was indeed Scurry. That rapscallion of a raccoon was scampering through the streets ahead of Xorvos, leading them… well, somewhere probably.

  “Why isn’t Melia here with us? She could probably put out the fire with a spell.”

  “She tried. It didn’t work. She’s behind us slowing down the paladin.”

  As if to confirm his statement, a loud crash erupted behind the two of them. Looking to the source of the sound, Shuka saw the man who had impaled her surrounded by a storm of splinters. It was the remains of a large cart that had been pushed into him. He stumbled for a bit but barely slowed down. A moment later, a spectral raccoon that must have been from Melia, apparated in front of Xorvos. When it spoke, it was in the witch’s voice.

  “Hey, you’re not dead yet. Good job. Anyway, got some good news for you.”

  “Good news?” Xorvos asked, wincing through the pain.

  “Yeah, great news. Kreivos, that’s the guy who’s chasing you; he can’t see shit right now. I don’t know why, but he’s currently blind.”

  “If he’s blind, then how is he still chasing us?” Shuka wondered out loud.

  “Beats me. Probably a tracking spell.”

  A spell? When did he place a spell on any of us though? When he stabbed me? No, he was trying to kill me then; he wouldn’t bother with a tracking spell. Wait, the holy fire on Xorvos won’t go out; maybe that’s it.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Xorvos, we need to extinguish the fire on you; he must be tracking you through that.”

  “Ooh, yeah, that might be it, ” Melia remarked. “It’ll need to be dispelled though, and I ain’t no good at dispelling.”

  “Well, he has to be maintaining it, right? Either we wait for him to run out of mana, or we make him lose his concentration on the spell.”

  “Easier said than done, Shuka. Not much fazes this guy; we would have to knock him out to stop the spell.”

  Could we do that? He’s blind right now, but I’m not in fighting condition and Xorvos is still on fire. Maryam isn’t around; if we’re lucky, she’s chasing behind him, but if we aren’t… The longer we hesitate, the worse Xorvos gets.

  “We’ll set a trap for him. Lead us to an alley where we can ambush him. If you know where Maryam is, tell her to pincer him from behind the moment we get him on the ground.”

  “You got it.”

  The spectral raccoon winked and then blinked out of existence. Ahead of them, Scurry changed directions, which Xorvos promptly followed. As they made their way through the busy streets, the noise of Kreivos crashing his way through Sidus was never far behind. A few guards moved to intercept them but found themselves stymied by several small rodents lit aflame with Kreivos’ holy flame. As they ran, Shuka explained her plan to Xorvos.

  “Xorvos, drop me at the entrance, but continue to the end on your own.”

  “But I won’t be able to protect you if I’m too far away.”

  “He can only see you, not me. I’m going to try to knock him to the ground. The moment I hit him, you need to charge in and disarm him, or at least keep his sword arm restrained. Hopefully Melia, Maryam and I are going to be enough to knock him out after that. Or just me and Melia if Maryam can’t help us.”

  Ahead of them, Scurry ran into an alley, perfect for Shuka’s plan, and Xorvos followed quickly behind. Dropping Shuka off at the entrance, Xorvos ran to the other end of the alley, then stopped and turned around. He faced the approaching paladin with arms raised and hands unclenched, ready to grapple. Shuka, for her part, stumbled a bit when she was dropped, her still weak legs almost giving out from underneath her. She was feeling a bit woozy, and her chest hurt, but she put all that to the back of her mind. She was going to be a lot worse than woozy if she didn’t do this right. The young hunter took her sword out of her belt and held it by the still sheathed blade. There wouldn’t be a point in unsheathing it; she doubted the blade could get through his skin, let alone his armour. Besides, she was going to need all the power she could get, and the handguard was better for that. Kreivos was getting closer, and Shuka could feel the heat radiating off of him, running up her arm like a fever. Behind him were two people that gave Shuka just a bit of hope and confidence in her plan. The first was Melia, who was grabbing something yellow from a garbage can she passed. The other was Maryam, covered entirely in purple scales and running on all fours like a beast. She was hot on Kreivos’ heels and was creating a veritable swarm of force bolts above her head. It was all coming down to this moment, and Shuka couldn’t help but tense up.

  If this doesn’t work, I’m dead. I have to hit him with everything I’ve got.

  Kreivos entered the alley, still blind to all but his flame. So blind that he did not see the handguard of Shuka’s sword before it impacted him directly in the face. The paladin wore a helmet, but it had an open faceguard and he took the impact right between his eyes. But that wasn’t enough to knock him down. Or at least it wouldn’t have been if not for a banana peel Melia threw under his foot at just the right moment. It must have been enchanted in some way by the witch because it propelled Kreivos’ foot straight into the air, almost in defiance of physics. Kreivos fell, and he fell hard - the back of his head impacting the cobblestone with a loud clang. It must have hurt, even through the helmet. But Shuka hurt too; the strenuous activity had reopened the wound the healing potion had closed, and she almost doubled over in pain. Fresh blood oozed from her wound; it might’ve stained her clothes if she were not already drenched in crimson.

  I can’t stop now; I only knocked him over. He needs to be unconscious to end the spell tracking Xorvos.

  Raising the sword above her head, with effort, Shuka prepared to bring it down on her opponent's head. But even stunned as he was, Kreivos moved faster. His hand shot out, fumbling at first, missing its target, but then finding purchase on Shuka’s ankle. His gauntlet still burned with holy flame.

  “Arrgh!”

  Shuka screamed and almost dropped her sword as Kreivos moved his up for a killing blow. But before he could strike, Xorvos leapt and tackled the sword, wrapping his arms around the blade in the tightest grip he could manage. The flames of the sword burned him, but he only grunted as all it did was add to the pain he was already suffering. Despite his immense strength, Kreivos could not bring his blade to bear with the full weight of an armoured quanso weighing him down. Maryam was next. A slightly draconic purple hand of magical energy formed in front of Kreivos’ face and grabbed onto his helmet and yanked. The still flaming helmet flew off his head. He was bald apparently. With his hairless top newly exposed, Maryam began to launch all her gathered force bolts. One after another, they launched unerringly into the paladin's head. She had not even used half of them before the fire engulfing Kreivos surged with strength like a forge receiving a gust of air. Shuka knew she had to get away, but Kreivos still held her ankle fast; she was trapped. All at once the flames grew, growing several times their normal size. A bonfire erupted from the man on the ground, engulfing all in the alley. The pain was worse even than her impalement; every inch of her body was screaming in agony. Every second was an eternity of suffering, and she couldn’t move: she couldn’t think past the pain. The fire was so all-consuming that she didn’t notice a hand grasp her shirt and tug her to her feet. She didn’t even know that she had fallen. But a voice spoke into her mind, and with it came the magic of a spell. The voice was Melia’s, through gritted teeth and with a hardness Shuka didn’t know she had. It said one thing.

  “Survive.”

  The pain didn’t disappear, but it went back to doing its job. Telling her she was in trouble. Her thoughts turned primal, like that of an animal. One that would do anything for survival.

  Pain, pain, pain, must escape! Trapped, I’m still trapped. Must move, must fight. Break his grip and escape; only way. He will not feed on me; I must survive!

  Desperation forced her hands to rise, and with a strength only granted to those about to die, she smashed the hilt of her sword against the face of the predator that hunted her. She could barely see it through the flames, but again and again she smashed it, the pain she felt only fueling her desperation. It was the only way to survive, and survival was everything. A snarl of primal viciousness erupted from Shuka’s mouth before she struck one more time, mana flowing into her arms, eager to grant the cornered animal her one wish of survival. A loud crack sounded out as the pommel of Shuka’s sword broke off in this final attack. But then the inferno died out and disappeared. Only the man’s armour remained aflame as the paladin lay in the alley, his face a battered and bloody mess. Eyes closed, he was unconscious. Xorvos was still at his side, clutching his sword, but seemingly unable to move. He was covered in the wavy burns of holy fire, and Shuka worried for a moment if he had died. But then he jerked back from the blade he was grasping and rolled on the ground away from Kreivos. Maryam was just outside the alley, but she must have been hit by the inferno as well because she was on her knees, arms propping herself up. It was Melia who seemed most in control of her body at the moment. She was sprawled out on all fours, looking more like a beast than Shuka had ever seen her. Her face was set in a permanent snarl, and her teeth were now sharpened fangs. Her nails too had turned into claws, and Shuka was sure she could find many other minute changes if she looked long enough, but the feral girl didn’t give her a chance to look.

  “Run. Follow. Now!”

  Melia spoke almost in a growl, and not with the composure she normally had, then bolted off through the alley, away from Kreivos. Everything hurt, her lung especially, but whatever primal spell Melia had put on Shuka still persisted. So she did the first thing the animal part of her brain thought of and ran to Xorvos. She grabbed him by his armour, shook him violently, and then yelled into his face.

  “Up! Run!”

  She then dropped him and ran after Melia. Maryam would be fine on her own; she was a dragon, and the raccoon wasn’t going to wait. It was only now that Shuka noticed something was strange about her body, and not just her mind.

  My arms! Furry and big? When? Must be raccoon.

  True enough, the muscles on her arms had grown enough to rip the sleeves of her shirt and revealed black and ragged fur underneath. Her hands had turned into big, meaty, paws with nasty claws at the end of her fingers. Her thoughts were still… simplified, but even through the spell, Shuka knew it must have been Melia’s doing. That didn’t matter; only one thing did. She'd survived once more.