The creatures seemed to be never-ending, an altogether tiresome parade of ancient elves trying to murder them. This was most certainly not what she had expected – a certain amount of savage beasts and the like were to be expected, but ancient ghosts, no matter how charming their music, were decidedly more inconvenient. There was a notable lack of elegance in their manner of fighting as well; elves were normally delicate and graceful, rather than these clumsy, shambling things. Of course, Stathis’ own tactics were even cruder than normal – a bottle of finest elven spirits, used as an explosive? Effective, to be sure, but more in line with a street-fighting thug than a knight, even a knight as casual about the matter as Stathis.

Janaxia gestured with a hand, a pair of blasts snapping out, slamming one of the creatures backwards. Whether they were destroying them, or simply knocking them back, she couldn’t tell – in the low light, they could be regenerating out of sight, or simply replaced with a similar-looking compatriot. Stathis bashed one with her shield, warding it off for a moment, then withdrawing, Hakara swiftly following up with flaming darts, flashes of light briefly shedding colour onto the scene.

Janaxia pursed her lips. Hakara was a skilled girl, no doubt, but somewhat dull. While she had shown some flair with a few of the traps, Janaxia was quite sure that such devices could have been dealt with by herself, or Semari. And their entrance into the bathing chamber, with Hakara being carried in Stathis’ arms! Quite what they had been engaged in, well, that was not something she wished to dwell on. And Stathis still hadn’t complimented her on her armour! It had been a custom commission, carefully shaped for her, providing some protection to enhance her shielding magic, as well as looking impressively warlike and dramatic. And not a single piece of praise, instead showing more interest in Hakara’s scrying spells; useful, to be sure, but very humdrum. Her own spells were far more impressive, although perhaps she may have been over-hasty when calling down darkness upon the unicorn, accidentally catching Stathis in the effect. Still, it was preferable to being skewered – that horn had been agonising, a burning, hissing thrust, into not only her flesh, but her soul itself.

The banshee hovered above them, robes fluttering. Janaxia snapped off a shot, hitting the creature, but without seeming effect. The skull turned to look at her, crimson eyes burning with rage, clawed hands twitching, before swooping down. Janaxia tried to evade, throwing herself to the side, one of the skeletons lurching from the darkness. It grabbed at her, hands skittering off her mystical barrier, while an aura of cold suddenly bloomed behind her. She spun, hands fumbling for her weapon, palms suddenly clammy as they slipped on the hilt. The wound from that unicorn still wasn’t healed, pain throbbing through her shoulder. Getting stabbed was painful! It made more sense now why Stathis insisted on all that dreadfully dull armour.

As she spun, trying to remember what Stathis had told her about correct posture, the banshee closed in. A cold, biting wind blew, whipping her hair around her face, before she swung, blade flailing through the air, failing to connect. A seething hiss answered her, red eyes filling her vision, the banshee grabbing at her, one hand grasping her shoulder, bone fingers biting into her skin. Pain threatened to overcome her, black and red flashing through her vision as she went weak at the knees, almost swooning to the ground.

It hissed at her again, darkness boiling from its mouth, eyes burning, sound forming into a sibilant word, some twisting curse she didn’t recognise, before Janaxia managed to wallop it with her weapon and broke its grip, giving herself enough space to twist away. Hakara was furiously incantating, her spell focus burning with a chill white light, bright enough to cast the skeletal attackers into harsh relief, the light doing little to show them to advantage. No matter how fine the clothing, on a skeletal frame even the best clothing was distinctly unflattering!

A magical barrier flashed into being in front of Janaxia, just in time to deflect the banshee’s attacks. It punched it, the magic already starting to splinter under the impact, Janaxia scrabbling backwards, flailing with her blade, barely connecting with a skeleton. Another movement from nearby panicked her, as she spun again. Stathis stepped past her, blocking a strike from a skeleton.

‘Stay calm! We need to fall back, we’re getting mobbed under here.’

With a savage “crack”, the barrier vanished, banshee lunging forward. Janaxia was pushed backwards to at least temporary safety by Stathis, who met the charge with her shield.

‘You two head towards that tower, I’ll catch up with you! Janaxia, look after Hakara.’ As the banshee hissed and shrieked, Janaxia shrank back, quickly pressing herself against Stathis for protection, as Stathis managed to fend her off, at least for a moment. ‘Get going!’

Janaxia lashed out at another skeleton as she moved, grabbing Hakara’s hand. The monsters, banshee excepted, at least had the decency to be slow, shambling towards them and easy to escape from, at least on an individual basis. Hakara was already tired, clearly not used to such exertions. As they ran, they both blasted behind them, blasts and firebolts peppering the night, ducking and weaving between the creatures. Stathis had pointed them at another building, semi-intact, and hopefully less crawling with the creatures.

A scream ripped through the night behind them, banshee howling into cold air. No doubt Stathis had some plan to get away from the thing, all that unpleasant close-up fighting was her forte, after all. Although Janaxia couldn’t help worry, as she glanced up to see the stars skittering across the heavens, dancing around in a somewhat disturbing fashion. Hopefully they could be done with this matter soon enough, and return to the far more pleasurable tasks within the hot springs. That massage had been simply divine, far preferable to this draining exertion. Llewdu ran out of the darkness, jumping onto a ruined wall, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos. The gemstone on his head was now glowing, a fiery light coming out, warming the air slightly.

She made a slight mewing noise, the cat nodding back. The light it shed was just bright enough to show the ruins surrounding them, a small corner of a greater building, just enough left to keep them out of sight.

Hakara managed to wheeze out some words. ‘How… how much longer do you think it will be? Until Miss Parth manages to get help?’

‘I would sincerely hope not much longer. I have little desire to extend this night further, and I really do hope that Stathis will join us shortly. She is rather more suited for this this of activity.’

‘It’s very brave of you to fight, especially without proper armour. My own protection spells only last a few minutes.’

Janaxia nodded; her own magics had some advantages then, despite what Stathis might think. ‘How much arcane energy can you muster? We should remain here, until Stathis catches up. Do you have anything to help us defend this place? My own magic does not lend itself to such things.’

‘I can lay protective wardings across the entrance, to try and fend off attackers. Do you think that would help, Miss Janaxia?’

It seemed best to appear to be confident and in command, despite the awkwardness of the situation. ‘Yes, do that. I will keep watch as you do so.’ Even with Janaxia’s limited knowledge, she know that such a spell would take some time; the creatures were not the most observant, but were tenacious until escaped. She drew her weapon, letting arcane energy flow into it – so inconvenient that it only worked on wood, but the weapon did add a touch of style and verve to her outfit, and Kinnevar himself had approved of it!

Hakara started to draw glyphs into the ground, Janaxia reading them as they shone into existence; the language was fairly straightforward, verging on the coarse. The Academy’s standards must have slipped, if they were teaching such things to their best and brightest! She was drawing forth some gleaming powder from one of her innumerable pouches, using it to draw the symbols onto the walls and ground, likely to cause some unpleasant effect if touched by an enemy.

A yell, human this time, rang from the darkness, Stathis somewhere nearby shouting a battlecry, as a quick snap of golden light flashed in the night. The monsters turned away, vanishing back into the darkness. With the runes in place, Janaxia and Hakara were both sealed in, as the sounds of violence came from somewhere outside. Janaxia drew closer to Hakara, glad at least of some company. Llewdu butted his head against her hand, gem burning with an inner light, before it suddenly hissed and retreated, looking upwards.

A vicious wind scattered dust and leaves, a force from above knocking Janaxia off her feet. As she tried to stand, she caught a glimpse of black robes, the banshee dropping from above, knocking her down, and now attacking Hakara, having already clawed through her protective spells. It clawed at her, slicing her face as Janaxia pushed herself up, charging at the banshee from behind. It twisted, impossibly limber as the skull-face turned to look at her, eyes burning with hate. A screech assaulted her, pain stabbing across her entire body, as she managed to force herself to swing, catching the monster across the skull, her own crimson energy for a moment matching that of the creature’s eyes.

Then it screeched again, the storm around it focusing, a blizzard of cold rage and lethal ice forming around it. Janaxia felt her skin get sliced and cut by the ice, pain and frost all together, as she managed to swing again, catching the thing across the ribs. It threw Hakara to the side, turning to focus on Janaxia, as fear flooded through her. Faster than anything dead should be capable of, it lunged for her, easily evading her attack, a bitterly cold hand punching into her stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs, slamming her backwards into a wall, blade falling from her hand.

On the ground, through a fringe of blackness and pain, she could just barely see a golden haze, the light of a promised dawn fighting back the night. Stathis stood there, battered and worn, bloodstains and bruises visible, but wearing it well. The banshee made a noise of disgust, the icestorm intensifying, as Janaxia tried to force herself to stand, despite the pain coursing through her. Did Stathis really have to endure this sort of thing very often? As she did so, the banshee attacked her again, fists striking again, solid hits crashing into her chest, her protective spells cracking under the strain, knocking her backwards. Janaxia smashed into the wall again, feeling something break inside her, coughing up blood. The world turned to nothing but darkness and frost, the only light shed by baleful red eyes, as Janaxia succumbed to the pain.