Cathra cleaves at the Blood Devil, Frostbane singing as it bites the air. The creature hops out the way. Cathra anticipates the move and adjusts, but the Blood Devil anticipates that and makes an impossible twist of her body, letting the blade glide past the frills of her dress. Sparks fly as Frostbane tears through the iron lantern pole behind the monster, severing it clean in two.

The pole crashes to the ground, shattering the lantern hooked onto its end. The stone inside it sputters and goes dark.

The Blood Devil hops clear of the dust. “What a unique sword you have there,” she remarks, voice disarmingly childlike. “It is ill-fitting someone such as you, though. Did you steal it?”

“You are not fit to gaze upon this sword, fiend,” Cathra spits, “nor speak about its wielder.” She stabs Frostbane’s razor point towards the girl. Under the light of the one remaining street lantern, the blade glows like a beam of icy fire. “But I shall let you have the honor of tasting the burn of its edge.”

She charges, and as they continue their dance, Cathra is struck with an incredible thought. In more ways than one, this Blood Devil looks strikingly similar to the dolls her father used to give her for her birthdays. Cathra received one from him every year since her birth up until her eighth birthday, when she ran away.

She wonders if they're still there, in the castle she left.

Cathra swings in a massive arc, but the Blood Devil seems to vanish. Pressure on Cathra’s sword makes her turn. She gasps. The creature is standing on top of Frostbane, the tip of her black leather shoes perfectly balancing on the blade’s edge.

The Blood Devil smirks. “Ooh, the burn.”

Cathra jerks her sword upwards, sending the Blood Devil high into the air. She aims Frostbane at the falling creature and shouts,

“Kasphare!”

Power surges out of Cathra, shooting through her arm and into Frostbane. A brilliant ball of fire erupts from the sword’s tip, sailing straight at the Blood Devil. But the creature turns midair and catches the blast with her parasol, deflecting it back to the ground where it explodes into the dirt.

The Blood Devil lands harmlessly, but Cathra is at her again, brandishing Frostbane in a sideways slash. Fire blisters the air where the Blood Devil stands, but the creature is gone again.

Behind!

Cathra whips around, but before her swing can gain momentum, a foot smashes into her stomach.

The world blurs as Cathra tumbles down the street. Instinct tells her to hold onto her head, but she’ll lose Frostbane and that will mean certain death. She crashes into the railings at the edge of the river and the pain brings her nearly to unconsciousness. She holds on, willing her body and mind to stay together.

“You dress like a thief.” The Blood Devil’s words sound muffled through the ringing in Cathra’s ears. “But you fight with light.”

Cathra struggles to open her eyes. Everything is in doubles and quivering nauseatingly. The Blood Devil is standing by the row of warehouses, the ruined wall behind her.

“It was a mistake coming here,” the monster says, her parasol twirling slowly on her shoulder. “But your courage is noteworthy. Therefore, I shall grace you with one chance to walk away and live out the rest of your insignificant human life sheltered by the certainty of death. Treasure this certainty, human. For it is a privilege some spend an eternity praying for.”

“You can keep your generosity… for Sharn's hell, vermin,” Cathra croaks, struggling to her knees. She has to hold onto the railing behind her for support, which has been distorted into a rough Cathra-shape.

"The only thing I'm certain of is leaving here with your head."

Using Frostbane as a crutch, Cathra lurches to her feet. Burning bile crawls to her throat, but she swallows it back down and wraps an arm around her belly, trying to contain the agony stabbing through her.

She’s too fast, Cathra realizes as she glares into the Blood Devil’s unearthly red eyes. I’ll never reach her like this. Time for the contingency plan.

She shakes her head to clear the stars from her eyes. The ground is covered in a thick layer of black mist, making it difficult for Cathra to even see her own feet.

If only I can find it.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the Blood Devil says, her eyes never leaving Cathra’s face. “Most people don’t get up after that. And the ones that do, don’t dare to ask for more.” She tilts her head to the side, as if studying Cathra and not understanding what she’s seeing. “I must say I am surprised, seeing this strange method of luring me out. Why aren’t you the one in the dress?” Her gaze shifts to over Cathra’s shoulder, where Kyros is still on the ground.

Cathra doesn’t allow herself to be distracted. She stands up straight and lifts her sword up.

“I don’t look good in green,” she says and advances a step towards the Blood Devil. “I’m surprised too. I always thought the power which rivals the goddesses themselves would hurt more.”

That makes the Blood Devil grin, and suddenly she’s just a little kid. “You have a lot of guts, lady. It’d be a real shame to have it spilling all over the dirt.”

Cathra focuses on her breathing. She’s broken ribs, this she is certain. The pain squeezes at her chest with every heartbeat, but she can’t allow it to take up any of her concentration. She shoves every other thought aside and starts to move, positioning herself away from the Blood Devil.

As she hopes, the Blood Devil moves also, coming away from the crumbling wall to follow her.

“Who are you?” Cathra asks, buying time as she scans the road. Among the coiling smoke and flower petals is the mark she made during the day. She just needs to find it.

“And why should I tell you?” asks the Blood Devil. “Does a lion need to tell a gazelle its name before tearing its throat out?”

“No. But I’d like to know the names of those I kill.”

This time, the little girl’s laugh sounds genuine. “My God, I remember I had a phase like that.” She shakes her head and wipes away an invisible tear. “Good times, certainly. I had to stop when my age reached the triple digits though, or it would’ve driven me crazy.”

When she looks at Cathra again, the Blood Devil’s eyes seem to suck in the light and everything around them until only two endless pits of nothingness remain.

“But I never forgot my first. You never forget your first.”

Cathra finds herself mesmerized by the chaos within those eyes, by their promise of death. But she breaks the spell and gives a mirthless chuckle. “I only asked for your name. No need to give me your history.”

Then she spots it.

Among the shattered remains of the street lantern, a thin thread pokes out from the ground, swaying gently like a blade of silvery grass.

Not giving the Blood Devil time to react, Cathra launches at her.

But her attacks are feeble, her injuries handicapping Frostbane’s movements severely. The Blood Devil almost looks bored as she sidesteps them.

“Enough, human,” the monster says as she brushes away a swipe aimed at her chest. “I grow tired of your foolery.” She ducks under another swing and zips forward, white dress funneling behind like mist. Cathra brings Frostbane in to block, but the creature steps onto the blade and reaches for her unprotected neck.

Cathra lurches backward, jerking her whole body away. Pain explodes along her neck and for a second the world falters. She staggers, holding her sword up. But a second blow does not come.

The Blood Devil lands gracefully, her feet barely making a sound on the shattered glass of the broken lantern. She brings up a hand to examine her long nails, blood trailing down her wrist to trickle onto her sleeve.

She tsks.

“You’re quicker than I gave you credit for, human.”

Cathra watches as the Blood Devil reaches a hand upwards, and lets the blood drip into her opened mouth.

“Tastier, too.”

The tip of a pink tongue darts out to lick at crimson lips. “Thank you, human, for bringing yourself to me. Tonight is turning out to be quite the pleasant surprise.”

“You’re more of a monster than I imagined you to be,” Cathra snarls, clutching her neck to stop the bleeding. The monster missed her lifeline by only a hair’s width. She inches a step to the side. “You look so much like a real person I admit I hesitated in killing you. That is a mistake I will not make again.”

Another step, and then another. She aims Frostbane in line with the monster, who does not notice her advance or just does not care.

“You said your house name is Stelias?” The Blood Devil’s red eyes have an almost dreamy look to them as she licks the rest of Cathra’s blood off her sharp nails. “I shall hunt down the rest of your lineage and slaughter them all, so that you will be together with them in the afterlife. I will do that for you, as repayment for your gift.”

From the corner of her vision, Cathra thinks she catches a twitch in Kyros’s foot.

Thank Nranhana. He's still alive.

She inches a step to the right, and finds the second blade of silver grass right in front of her.

“That’d be troublesome for you,” she says to the Blood Devil. “Since Stelias isn’t my real house name.”

To Cathra's right, the Ryugon river flows noisily, loud enough to have drowned out the sounds of their fighting from the rest of the city. Blocky storehouses frame the left side of the road, while behind her Cathra imagines the python-archways of the North Gate, their dark shapes silhouetted against the black sky.

“My real name is Cathranhae Narage," she tells the Blood Devil, "daughter of Valdak the Barbarian King, Princess and rightful heir of the Dragonspines. I have the blood of the Ancient Warriors flowing inside me. Blood which you have spilled.”

The girl’s fangs glow like little points of steel as she smiles. “I really don’t care. I won't remember you either way." She flies at Cathra. "Itadakimasu!"

Cathra slams Frostbane onto the ground, feeling the hidden mechanism snap away under her blade. A high-pitched shrill emits through the air as a roll of grey plates emerge from the dirt, their surfaces painted with glowing sigils. Under the moonlight the plates burst into life as one, erecting a wall of bright golden-orange light in front of Cathra.

The Blood Devil cries out and tries to twist away, but is betrayed by her momentum. She crashes straight into the wall and hits the ground screaming, her clothes and skin smoldering as white flames lick all over her body.

Cathra gives the monster no chance to recover. She brings Frostbane up and stabs it into another reel of string, hidden next to the first mechanism. The contraption squeals, revealing the rest of the sigils, nearly twenty. They appear from the dark like burning eyes, caging the Blood Devil within pillars of blinding radiance.

The night fills with the scent of charred flesh and the sounds of the monster’s howls.

Now to finish this.

Cathra holds Frostbane close to her body, the blade’s tip pointed towards the sky.

The creature thrashes within its cage of light, her face covered with her scorched hands.

“You bitch! Fucking human worm!”

Cathra begins to chant,

“Great Fathers, Warriors of Old, lend me fire to purge the venom from the veins of our realm. I offer myself as a vessel for your inferno to manifest. Now hear the cries of my enemy and rejoice, for the flames of heaven consume all who walk in the darkness!”

As the words leave Cathra’s lips, she feels the air waiver around her, rippling like water. A wind stirs through the street, turning quickly into a gale. Windows rattle. Waves churn across the river’s dark surface.

A surge of power fists out from within Cathra, stealing her breath away. Frostbane grows hot in her hands, then blistering. It seems to writhe in the heat, losing form like a snake stirring from sleep. Cathra holds on, willing it hotter, and hotter still.

With a roar, glowing flames erupt along Frostbane’s silvery edge, racing to cover the sword all the way down to the hilt. They wrap around Cathra hands and arms like glowing, burning tentacles, but Cathra ignores the pain. She raises her burning sword high above her head.

“SEKAN TENBA!”

And slams it downwards.

A tsunami of light spews from the blade, splitting a path down to the trapped monster. A guillotine of fire. Tearing the ground apart in its hunger.

With a deep, drowning explosion that lights up the night sky, the Blood Devil and her cage are engulfed in a blooming ball of glorious brilliance. The force of the blast knocks Cathra to the ground. Frostbane slips from her fingers but she can’t feel them enough to close them. Glass rains down around her head like falling stars as water leaps out from the river, washing over everything in piercing coldness; the sigils, Kyros, her own body.

Cathra never got her eighth doll from her father, since she ran away before her birthday was over. But the seven she had, she loved to pieces. The very first one had to be patched a dozen times by her handmaids.

She left those dolls on the windowsill of her chambers, one next to the other, so they could watch her escape. And she imagines them now, all seven lined up neatly to freeze, their soft dresses stiffening from the raw salty snow drifting from beyond the walls of her home.

Cathra wishes she had taken one with her, so she'll at least have something to remind her what it was that made her leave her home and her father in the first place.

Just before everything goes dark, Cathra spots a red parasol falling from the sky. Lying on her back, she watches as the thing floats lazily in the wind. It seems to be surfing along the thick plumes of smoke rising from the empty cage before slowly, twirling into the roaring flames below.

Cathra remembers thinking, as her eyes begin to close, how even after all that destruction and effort, the monster’s blasted parasol still somehow made it out in one piece.