Stathis stumbled, barely conscious. Hakara was still desperately flinging bolts of flame at the banshee as it stalked towards Stathis, confident of victory. She blocked a punch, more of her shield shattering away, now useless for protection. Another punch, this impact straight into her arm, bone crunching under the assault.

‘Child of broken sunlight. Child of broken faith. Soul as sweet as any of life’s riches. I shall savour your soul, then devour those left alive in this place. And then when the seal breaks, a world awaits me. That which raised me calls to me, so that I might ascend into eternal darkness.’

Stathis swung her fist, barely any strength lift. It didn’t even bother to block, simply taking the strike, then punching back, something snapping in Stathis’ shoulder, pain wrenching her into a scream.

A bolt of lighting cracked into them, halting them for a moment. With one hand still grabbing Stathis by the shoulder, the skull-head turned and screeched at Hakara. This close, it added to the pain and disorientation, rattling Stathis’ teeth, seeming to make her entire skull shake and throb. Stathis punched and beat at it without effect, fist striking without causing any damage. It gripped her shoulder tighter, crunching the bones together, Stathis groaning in pain, unable to break free, unable to even fall to the ground for a moment of surcease. The skull turned back towards her, their eyes locking, Stathis feeling herself falling into the red glow, consciousness wavering.

A roar sounded from somewhere above, something gliding through the darkness. The banshee squeezed harder, shattering Stathis’ shoulder before tossing her aside. She slammed into the ground, trying to land as best she could, rolling to minimise the damage, her arm in agony. The banshee answered the roar with a screech of its own, ice storm intensifying as it leapt into the air, flying into the storm. A burst of flame met it, heat meeting ice, exploding into steam as the clouds spun above them, stars still crazily swirling and spinning.

Stathis hauled herself up, every movement sending jagged spikes of agony through her arm. The banshee was faster than the dragon, but was having to avoid claws and breath. More of the skeletons were still advancing towards them, as Stathis forced herself to move, lumbering towards Hakara, biting back the pain.

More screams and howls came from above, as Stathis slumped against a wall. Janaxia was still where she had been thrown, limbs splayed, blood oozing from her wounds. Stathis made herself move just a little further, leveraging herself downwards, sliding down to a sitting position, checking for breath and a pulse. Weak and erratic, but there.

Above, the battle raged, flame fighting frost, the bass roars of the dragon mingling with the screeches of the banshee. Stathis slumped against the wall as Hakara ran over, flinging spells into the darkness and holding off attackers. Even at this distance, the heat from the dragon could be felt, a dry and fierce thing.

‘Hakara, try and keep them back. We just need to hold them off and hope the dragon beats that thing. And that Parth and Semari are still alive, wherever they are.’ It took all she had to stay conscious, everything hurting, watching the stars above whirl around crazily as the dragon fought, great spouts of flame scarring the sky. Gods, everything hurt. A flash of movement, one of the creatures attacking Hakara, clawing for her.

Stathis moved without thinking, her entire body hurting as she pushed off the wall, and slammed into the attacker, dragging them down, feeling the cold pierce her body as she grappled them to the floor, punching as best she could before Hakara turned and blasted them. As the body faded away, another roar shattered the sky, and Stathis finally sank into darkness, unable to stay conscious.

Soft warmth surrounded her, distant birdsong in the air. She rolled over, savage spikes of pain immediately pulling her fully awake. Everything around her was white and soft, thin curtains wafting in a gentle breeze, a pillow beneath her head. With a groan, she pulled herself up, trying to ignore the pain. Some kind of infirmary? A noise made her turn her head, seeing another bed on the other side.

Janaxia was propped up on a ridiculous number of pillows, body wrapped in an elven gown that didn’t quite fit, pulled overly taut across her chest. An elf had a bowl of grapes, and was feeding to them to her one by one, while another was massaging her feet.

One of them looked up, putting the grapes to one side. ‘Hauleni, thou awakens.’ He stood, moving around the bed and ignoring Janaxia’s sigh of disappointment. ‘Our healing items are scarce, but we cared for you as best we could.’

Stathis shifted, pulling herself up in the bed. Her arm was bound and strapped in a cast, with a light shift covering the rest of her body, bruises and gashes over the rest of her body, her shoulder flaring with pain as she moved.

‘Thanks. So, I guess we won? Did Parth and Semari make it?’

Janaxia answered. ‘Semari was afflicted with a curse of petrification, but was recovered from that with no ill effects. Parthenelle was somewhat singed, but has been in discussion with her kin for quite some time, I have not had the chance to speak to her. I didn’t know she was of such exalted position, were you aware?’

‘She’s an elf, they’re all nobles, aren’t they? Ever since the Empire fell, most of them have some kind of fancy title, guess that’s what happens when most of the population dies at once. Anyway, are you OK? The banshee had worked you over pretty badly when I got there.’

‘A few broken ribs and suchlike, so I’m told. Although I am concerned about the consequences.’ She pulled back part of her robe, revealing soft, brown skin, bandages placed over some of her injuries, a herbal scent coming from beneath, some elven brew at work. ‘What if it scars? Unlike yourself, I lack both the physique and the complexion for such things!’

Stathis sighed. ‘So Semari and Parth both made it through? That’s a relief. Shit, what about Hakara? And the dragon? Is that thing still around, or did the banshee manage to kill it?’

A loud voice came from the other side of the room, excessively loud. Lounging on a chair was a tall, well-built woman, wearing robes of bright crimson silk, layered fabric of different shades and tints, inlaid with gems and golden thread. The cat was on her lap, one elegantly manicured hand stroking it, a steaming cup held in the other. ‘The beast had a damn good go, but without that mist to distract me, I was able to defeat her. Not the most sporting of battles, but when there’s an abomination such as that about, then sport is decidedly lessened in importance, I feel.’ A gemstone on her forehead glinted with fiery sparks as she moved, allowing the cat to dismount before approaching. ‘Hauleni Stathis, it seems as though I have missed rather a lot in my enforced rest. As I will be here for some time, it would be a pleasure to talk further. Without the intervention of your cohorts, then I would have been preserved here for even longer, which would have been most inconvenient. But it seems I will be staying for some time, I do have a price to extract, after all.’ They grinned, showing sharp teeth, eyes gleaming with a touch of fire.

‘Thanks. Uh, no problem. So, you’re the dragon?’

Stathis looked her up and down – her eyes were decidedly lizard-like, and her nails could be claws, or she might just like them long. She didn’t look that distinct from an archmage, except for the slight heat haze that warped the air around her, the scent of scorch and ash wafting from her.

‘Indeed. I find this form somewhat easier when interacting with the, shall we say, lesser races. My true form seems to be met with awe; flattering, but often inconvenient. But since you require rest, allow me to recommend the baths – although fallen from their full glory, they are still something to be savoured.’

Janaxia tossed her hair. ‘Indeed, Lady Gintestarrak. Would you like to walk with me to the baths? The waters are indeed quite recuperative.’

A sudden look of consternation came over her face, swiftly masked. ‘Of course, Janaxia.’ She leant in close to Stathis and whispered. ‘How do you get rid of her? She’s indefatigable, and has already corrupted my cat to her cause! I have no desire to couple with some mere human, but she refuses to leave me alone!’ She raised her voice to a normal volume. ‘My thanks again, Hauleni Stathis.’

With a look of grim resignation, she approached Janaxia, who groaned and puffed her way out of bed, robe slipping enough to show that she had suffered some ugly and massive bruises, leaning more of her weight than was necessary on the dragon, before they made their way out of the room, Janaxia giving overwrought gasps of pain with each step, the dragon simultaneously trying to support her while maintaining as little contact as possible. The cat had clearly transferred loyalties, jumping onto Janaxia’s shoulders, rubbing its face against hers with a happy “mew”. Janaxia’s arm was securely around Gintestarrak’s waist, holding her tight, as the dragon shot a glance at Stathis, clearly hoping for some reprieve.

Stathis sank back down into bed, glad of some peace, despite having only just regained consciousness. Everyone had survived, it seemed. Hidden by the sheets, she channelled some of her power, the pain lessening, although the wounds inflicted by the banshee resisted her powers. Thick black marks ringed her arm, cold and sore to the touch, her shoulder aching whenever she moved, not set right. A dragon? Well, at least she might keep Janaxia distracted; between that and the lures of elven baths and massages, she probably wouldn’t be complaining too much. Although meeting someone she couldn’t seduce might make Janaxia stroppy – she was probably salivating at the chance to add a dragon to her conquests.

Stathis managed to lever herself off the bed, vision swimming as blood rushed to her head. Thankfully, the loose robe she had been dressed in was suitable to move in, as she managed to stagger into the hallway. If she supported herself using the wall, it didn’t hurt quite as much. But it still hurt a lot. With unsteady, lurching steps she managed to make her way down the hallway, finding steps downwards, with steam wisping out, hip and arm aching with every step.

‘Hey, you’re up! You’re moving like an old lady though. And not, like, a badass old lady, but the old and hobbling kind.’ Semari lightly skipped down the steps ahead of her. ‘Want a hand?’

Stathis expected Semari to support her, but instead Semari ducked in front of her, grabbed her ankle with one hand and pushed her shoulder into Stathis’ stomach, taking the weight along her back and simply lifting her, and then walking down the stairs. It hurt less than walking, but was somewhat embarrassing, especially as she struggled to keep her robe closed, and not smash her head against the wall on the way.

‘You doing OK? You looked pretty messed up when you got bought in here. I got turned to stone by that bastard mist. Woke up to find some elf rubbing oil into me, that was a bit wierd. If I’m gonna get oiled up by a stranger, they could at least find a nice buff one, or have asked first! Although gave me a decent rubdown, I guess. Took about a day to be able to move properly again. Dragon-lady seems nice, for a dragon. Hasn’t tried to eat Janaxia’s soul. Well, yet. Maybe she’ll get around to it later.’ It sounded as though she was hoping for this outcome.

‘What about Parth? Is she OK?’ Talking while being jolted and bounced around was awkward, her breath continually being pushed out from her lungs as Semari’s shoulder pushed into her.

‘Got a bit singed, but she’s been with Cerondyari. Doing, like, elf stuff.’ She waggled her hands, twisting Stathis around on her shoulders to let her see, narrowly missing smashing Stathis’ head against the wall. ‘I dunno, like, getting in touch with her ancestors and stuff? Although ancestors are normally, like, dead and stuff. Wait, Janaxia has ancestors, and Parth’s got ancestors. I bet you’ve got, like, shiny ancestors or something, all glowy and everything. That sucks, how come I don’t get any ancestors?’

‘You’ve got Kethys, you’ll probably bump into her again, right?’

‘Yeah, but she’s not all, like, cool and magical and stuff. She just uses poisons and stealth and stuff, and she’s not even dead or anything special like that! She just steals things. I mean, cool things, I guess, like the Sword of Roses, or the Eye of the Drowned God, but nothing that exciting.’

Stathis’ head was starting to hurt from being jolted around, as she tried to process this. ‘The Sword of Roses? That vanished over a decade ago, from the vaults of Astrivar. It was supposed to have been stolen by… Wait. Are you saying that Kethys is the Ghost Spider?! The legendary thief?’

Semari’s shrug was uncomfortable, a shoulder pushing hard against a broken rib. ‘Well, yeah. I thought you knew. But it’s not like she’s a super-badass dead wizard-knight, or the woman that managed to actually to get the twelve cities to actually talk to each other without bloodshed, or a bunch of super-old not-dead elves. And you know that old stuff is always, like, crazy powerful. At least, when it’s not evil and broken and trying to kill us. Kethys is cool, but not that cool.’

They descended to the bottom, stepping into a changing room, Semari carefully putting Stathis back down, before stripping off herself. The petrification didn’t seem to have left any obvious scars, at least amongst the various other healed scars and old wounds on her body. Well, if she was going to fight without armour, then it was scarcely a surprise. There were a few blackened bruises from the ghosts, but nothing more serious.

With her body complaining, Stathis managed to stand and remove her robes, and made her way towards the baths. She slipped into the water with an ungainly splash, soaking into the warmth, even as it stung her wounds. That Semari had some unusual contacts should not have come as a surprise, but the Ghost Spider? Explained why Semari had gotten into thievery, even if not her combat skill. Everyone thought that the Ghost Spider was dead as well, but Kethys must just have retired or something.

Janaxia emerged from beneath the water, sweeping her hair back out of her face, carefully arranging it around her horns, before settling herself down next to Stathis. Her tattoo was more obvious, the black lines seeming sharper and better defined than before, although it wasn’t moving at the moment.

‘Ah, you seem to be recovering well. Another scar, but I’m sure it will fade in time. Although I am rather concerned about the wound from the unicorn.’ She rose slightly out of the water, revealing her chest, water beading over her smooth skin. There was a puncture wound in her shoulder, mostly healed, marring her flesh. ‘You bear your wounds well, but I simply don’t have the physique for such a thing!’ She moved closer, almost pushing herself against Stathis. ‘Do you think it will scar? While a little wound might be dashing, this could be disastrous! Anything off the shoulder may simply be impossible to wear, due to that irksome beast.’

Stathis shuffled away slightly. ‘It doesn’t look that bad, I’m sure it’ll heal fine, and scars fade over time. How have you never been stabbed before?’

‘It seemed a rather unpleasant prospect, so I did what I could to avoid it. I can scarcely be blamed if enemies would rather target the foe in front of them! Perhaps invest in some better armour?’ Her eyes roamed over Stathis’ body. ‘Black and blue are really not your colours, I must say.’ She reached out, running a finger over a blackened bruise, just hard enough to sting. ‘It was very brave of you though, to charge in like that. It would have been nicer had you been a little faster to arrive, but I suppose you had other concerns. But aside from the thrust from that equine beast, my own wounds appear to be healing well.’

She stood, body emerging from the water, slowly spinning to show off her body – the bruises stained her ribcage and hips, a bandage wrapped around a thigh. The tattoo moved as she turned, shifting around onto Janaxia’s back and then returning to its normal position, as though keeping Stathis in sight. Janaxia posed there, apparently waiting for further comment, as Stathis tried to make herself comfortable, the stone scraping her bruises and wounds.

‘They look like they’ll be fine, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. And you’ll still look good in whatever you wear, you know that. Where’s the dragon gone, did she ditch you?’

A frown crossed her face. ‘She prefers the hottest chambers, which are a little too warm for me, at least for long. She seems rather taciturn, trust be told – I was expecting her to be a little more open to friendship. Although Llewdu is rather more friendly, so I hope to breach that barrier soon.’

‘He’s a dragon-kitty!’ Semari yelled as she shot through the air, splashing into the water, before Janaxia explained.

‘Gintestarrak placed part of her essence into Llewdu – something akin to a witch’s familiar, but with rather more finesse and power.’

Stathis leant back, soaking in the soothing warmth, allowing Janaxia’s chatter to wash over her. Nothing seemed to be on fire, exploding or getting caught in an explosion of time, so it seemed safe to rest.