Crowned Boa: A Magical Beast at the peak of La Réunion’s riverbed food-chain. Appears mostly identical to non-magical boas, except for its horns, that form the eponymous crown on its head. It was spotted less than a dozen times since the founding of Saint-Louis and Saint-Denis. As reported sizes have varied, we must assume that there are multiple individuals living mostly in the rivers whose sources are located between the Piton des Neiges and the Piton de la Fournaise. The Mages who have encountered one were always attacked, so we must assume that it is either extremely territorial or sees humans as a potential food source.

Strengths: Ability to tunnel and swim at great speed, enormous physical strength, moderate resistance to most spells.

Weaknesses: Will flee if grievously hurt. Will avoid damages to horns above all else.

Recommendation: Avoid encounters if possible, by staying 30 meters clear of any water body between the Piton des Neiges and the Piton de la Fournaise. Flee if encountered. If a conflict cannot be avoided, aim consistently for the horns.

Estimated Danger Rating: 5 to 9, depending on the size of the individual and the veracity of the following note

Note: Unconfirmed reports indicate that the most substantial individuals are capable of magical effects close to the following spells, most frequently using their crowns as a focus: Summon Elemental Swarm (Water or Mud), Summon Elemental (Water, Mud or Earth), Resist elements, Wall of Mud, Watery Sphere, Control Water/Mud.

Extract from “History of the Last Men”, by Tanaka Inagi, First Librarian of La Réunion

“Manon, how long can Cûn Anûn hold the ceiling?” Louis asked nervously. “I need to meditate before I can Stone Shape enough to tunnel us out of here.”

“A few minutes, ten at most… Sorry.” Manon responded, looking apologetic. “I don’t have the mana to make him hold on any longer.”

Cynthia stood up in the cramped space, cradling her mace. “What you’re going to see is strictly confidential”, she warned. “No one but High Command are allowed to know about it for now. This includes the Council. Manon, Damien, not a word to either of your fathers.”

Damien looked at her curiously. Such secrecy was surprising, as the competencies, specialties, and degree of power of most mages on La Réunion were public knowledge, at least among their peers. Observing Manon, he noticed that she looked even more shocked than he was, probably at the idea that the Colonelswere denying information to the Council.

“Srevin, Rock to Mud!”

Out of Cynthia’s mace, a Spirit-boa appeared. The being, sporting shining brown scales and a pair of horns crowning its head, sprang to one of the walls and touched it, transmuting the hard rock into thick mud which slowly oozed onto what little floor space was available.

Damien blinked. “Cynthia, is that a Crowned Boa Spirit? Who killed that thing? It’s at least Mid-Tier!”

“Military secret.” Cynthia answered coldly. “I am not allowed to confirm nor deny whether the Spirit designated Srevin exists or not, much less its hypothetical provenance.” She glanced at the Spirit, who was disappearing inside the wall, freeing a passage. “Our escape was made possible by my great-uncle's gift of multiple Wands of Shape Earth to my little brother for his Awakening.” She continued. “Jean, can you point me to the sea? I think we have advanced far enough to get to the Fisherman’s Folly”

Damien nodded. This was a good plan. The Fisherman’s Folly was an old, abandoned project that was supposed to link Le Port and Saint-Denis by transmuting a combination of tunnels and flattened tracks into existence along the coast. Alas, it had to be abandoned because of regular mermen raids who had used it multiple times as an infiltration point. However, its western tunnel sill existed and led directly to Le Port. If they could use “Wands of Shape Earth ” to reach it, they would probably get to Le Port at the same time as their schoolmates.

And so they began the long, hard task of trekking while digging in the mud. Fortunately, Srevin, which Jean took to ironically calling 'the Mud Dispenser' apparently drained very little mana from Cynthia. Even after the battle, during which she had given them an impressive number of buffs, she could still continue manifesting her Spirit. Damien suspected that the reason for this was not an impressive Volumetric Mana Index, but some hidden cache of HDM or a mana-storage function in her mace, aimed specifically at the empowerment of her Spirit, whose old Core he thought was now her mace’s heart. After what felt like hours of trudging, they finally arrived in a neat tunnel bearing the hallmarks of a clean Shape Earth.

“What now?” He asked. “We can’t really leave that open. The Ants could follow that way up.”

“I was thinking of asking you to blow up the last few dozen meters with Sun-Fire Glyphs.” Cynthia admitted. “We’re relatively safe here, you can meditate beforehand.”

Damien accepted the task, borrowing a few LDMs from Louis, Manon, and Jean to accelerate his recovery. He then traced three Sun-Fire Glyphs over the last nine meters and expended the last two charges of his sword’s Sun-Fire Infestation to trigger them from a safe distance, erasing their tunnel behind them.

“I hope the people in charge of mapping the caves won’t be too mad at us…” Manon commented to Damien.

“More importantly, I hope no one got caught in the cave-in” Julia butted in. “Were you allowed to use that spell, Damien?”

“I may have improved upon it… And messed that up. Although we would have been toast if it didn’t blow up. I won’t apologize for using it.” Damien defended himself. His assessment was factually correct, he thought, if a bit flawed, since he hadn’t known that the party would be assaulted by an overwhelming force.

Julia, seeing that her friend was unrepentant, dropped the matter.

They moved on, walking toward Saint-Denis in the tunnel, illuminated by slight, dying beams of light from holes in the ceiling.

They finally arrived in sight of Le Port’s Vauban-style walls and bastions well after sundown. As a way of making their presence known, the group of children began casting Flares in the sky. Shortly, a squad of Militiamen bearing Dancing Lights made a beeline for them, accompanied by the white silhouette of a field doctor in his operating garb, and guided by… Damien looked up and blinked.

Above their heads, what he initially thought was a group of flying Familiars of some kind was illuminated by the Light of the search party. First, he saw razor-sharp talons, then strong, feminine thighs partly covered by monochrome covers of feathers. As the largest of the five flying forms descended upon them, he saw that its wings were wreathed in static discharges. As the figure touched down on her taloned feet, he took note of the strangely ageless face considering them. He suddenly realized who he was looking at, and felt his eyes widen in surprise.

Damien's mind was buzzing. The Harpy's Queen was helping to search for them! He happily grinned, then began to wonder. Should he welcome that kind of attention toward him and his friend? In fact, what stance should he take when meeting the island's Demi-Humans as a Mage? They were strange beings, sometimes wholly divorced from humanity's perspective. They had commited crimes against the human population when they first arrived. Violent murders, and kidnapping and rape of men to maintain their population. However, it was Damien's opinion that showing them the respect expected of vital allies was the only real option. Let yesterday's rancors rest and forge a future based on their alliance. It wouldn't do for the son of La Réunion's Intendant to go against his father's policies either, he chided himself. Etienne de Carné had always been a major proponent of the strengthening of relationships with the Orcs and the Harpies, and with the Garden's master most of all.

“I greet you, Nabeelah, Brishna of -” He began, putting one knee to the ground.

A sharp look from the ancient harpy stopped what he had wanted to be a formal greeting while his friends, understanding the situation when they heard the Harpy's name, imitated him.

“I came looking for the children who buried the loathsome things that had been desecrating my mountain-nest since we drove the Orcs from Le Port. I was told you were missing, maybe even buried with them. I intended to help your men by destroying the rocks where it stops the search. ” Her voice, when she spoke in French, had song-like undertones reminiscent of her usual language: the old Elemental Auran tongue. She was Nabeelah, the Brishna, or chieftain, of all the harpies on La Réunion and the queen of the Piton des Neiges. Some human Combat Mages, who had seen her fighting the mermen, called her the Living Tempest, and one of the five most dangerous beings in open combat on the whole island, Magical Beast, Humans, and Demi-Humans all counted. And she had come looking for them! Damien still marveled at the thought.

“I intended to offer your Council some materials that you value for them to purge the caves, for their presence pollutes the cold of the mountain, and we harpies cannot fight well in caves.” the harpy queen explained, glancing at her escort, four harpies still circling above their heads. “I shall order that they be bestowed upon you instead, once you are able to use them. Nothing too lavish, of course, nuggets of magical ore, precious parts of our preys, these sorts of things that you humans value.”

“B-Brishna, you honor us,” Manon began, still kneeling and stuttering. She looked strangely agitated to Damien, even more so than her usual shyness would explain. “If I m-may... If it is not p-presumptuous, I would like to renounce my r-reward in exchange f-for one of your f-feathers.”

“Oh?” Nabeelah scanned the group again and smiled. “And why would you want one of my feathers, little flower? I can’t find the smell of thunder on any of your friends. And I could. Let’s see…” She towered above each of them in turn.“The morning’s breeze, the mountain’s cold air, the river, and the rocky plains… And then there’s you. You smell like a burnt forest, after a stormy night.” She said after examining Damien, “and something older too… no matter.” She turned back to Manon. “If you promise to never use it against me and my people, you shall have my feather, little flower. What say you?”

“I p-promise!” Manon eagerly replied.

“Good.” While speaking, she inspected her wings, searching for an intact feather to pluck off. “Your protectors are coming, and none of you are hurt. You shall all be rewarded soon. My people’s honor is safe, now. I shall see you at the solstice’s celebrations.” She shook a feather from her arm, took off and bolted toward the mountain at their back, soon joined by her escort.

Damien glanced once more at the harpy queen’s silhouette, then at Manon, who was cradling a feather as long as her forearm, wondering what she intended to do with it. For now, she found a length of creeper and tied it to her spear.

A red-faced, furious Militia officer joined them. “Alright. Report, Cynthia. Why in the name of a merman's… teeth did you guys collapse a fourth of the deep Undergrounds?”

“That was my fault, sir.” Damien immediately responded in Cynthia’s stead, saluting the man. “We were cornered by a swarm, including a Queen. I triggered an explosive spell I haven't yet fully mastered and accidentally overcharged it.” That was close enough to the truth, he thought, that even Cynthia, who he knew was linked to the military by way of her tutor, and probably sworn to truthfulness, would not contradict him and compromise the rest of the trip. Which was a relief, as it would delay his return to Saint-Denis. The report he would make to Roland would be more truthful… And he fully expected the old Enchanter to dress him down then.

“You’ll give me a report while we walk to the barracks.” The officer told Cynthia. “You guys will have a long day tomorrow.”

And so, the team walked to the barracks while Cynthia was being raked over the coals by the angry officer. There, they found fresh beds and most of their schoolmates already sleeping. They saluted Louis and Cynthia, whose part on the trip was over seeing as they were a five-minute walk away from their home.

Finally, Damien allowed himself to feel the exhaustion of a day of walking. He embraced the sweet oblivion of sleep, thinking of his encounter with the Harpy queen and dreaming of burning forests.