Ritual would be needed to defeat the Fiend. Ritual developed in the youth of the world and passed down from Coven Mother to Coven Mother. Borders between the realms were more porous in those days, and Fiends common.

So upon the last crow's cry, as twilight settled on the Old Wood, Tabri arrived at the witches' temple to begin the necessary ceremony. Ozaika waited for her in the smoke-filled sanctum. Along with three other trusted disciples, the old witch prepared her to face their foe. Deep chanting echoed against the old clay walls as they peppered the young spellcaster's body with sacred powders and traced intricate patterns of protection on her bare flesh with sacred dyes.

No others would be allowed in while the ritual was in process. None but Tabri's new Patron, her devil Damné.

As the Coven Mother and her disciples went about their work, Tabri focused her mind. The new strength her Pact brought had taken some adjusting to, but in this endeavor, her own emotions posed a greater threat. Ozaika instructed her to suppress her fear.

"Show no signs of tension or dread, my apprentice. This Fiend will not hesitate to jump on the smallest advantage. Your new bond, strong though it is, may not be enough to protect you."

"I understand, Master. I shall do my best."

Hot concentration hissed out her nose. Despite her training, worry pooled in Tabri's mind. Her encounter with the Fiend's minion lingered in her memory. The helplessness haunted her. Yes, her Patron's Pact had made her stronger, but had she truly mastered her magic? Could she protect her adopted home?

Comfortable warmth, like a beloved familiar blanket, spilled into her aura. Tabri knew it was Damné, sending his love and support through their shared connection. A small smile broke through her meditation.

"Step off the pedestal now," said Ozaika.

She complied and the other disciples dressed her in a simple black chemise that fell to her knees. They then brought forth an unadorned wooden chest.

"The symbols and powders we've put on your skin will help protect you, but we need to arm you as best we can if you're to banish this monster Tabri."

With a gesture from their master, Ozaika's disciples withdrew a long cloak made of black feathers from the aged trunk. They draped the garment on Tabri's shoulders where it hung heavy with the weight of generations of Witchfolk. Encompassing her form, the deep power that came with such age seeped into her.

Ozaika spoke, words echoing against the chamber. "When we Witchfolk were first born, we emerged from the earth naked. Our first Coven Mother weaved this cloak from the feathers of condors to clothe herself. She did not take their feathers, but learned the condors' language and asked for them. That cloak is as old as Hauntergast. May it give you strength."

"May it give you strength," the disciples repeated in unison.

From the same ancient chest, the old witch retrieved a fist-sized polished bloodstone. With the treasured gem, she clasped the ancient avian mantle closed at Tabri's throat. Beneath it, her wolf tooth amulet draped against her breastbone.

Her Master continued, "As we first mastered the arcane arts, we took our talismans from nature. The trees and the rivers provided them to us. Our first Coven Mother discovered this stone on the site of this temple. It served her well for many years. May it grant you power."

"May it grant you power."

Tabri brushed her fingertips against the bloodstone and tiny arcs of energy zapped them. Even that slight touch revealed the vast magic contained within the gem.

Shuffling forward, Damné joined Ozaika and her disciples to observe their handiwork. Empowered by her new Pact and adorned with these sacred artifacts, Tabri no longer resembled the wayward waif and abandoned apprentice she'd been seven years before. Now there could be no doubt that she was a Witch of the Old Wood, primal as nature and mystic as the changing moon.

"You're ready," said Ozaika.

"Coven Mother, how will I find the Fiend's lair?" Tabri asked.

The older woman put both hands around her student's. "Reach out into the ether. Search for a twisted knot of pain, a bruise on the skin of the world. That will be where this foul specter is hiding."

Careful not to disturb their work, Ozaika hugged her apprentice. The embrace carried as much farewell as good luck.

"May the earth bless your efforts Tabri, and may your Patron protect you."

"Fear not, I will," said Damné.

The devil laid his hands on his beloved's feather cloaked shoulders, and she grazed them in return.

"I suppose we should be going then. A shame you can't ride on my back anymore Damné. Your closeness would bring me comfort."

"Don't fret Tabri. I can still remain close as we travel."

He kissed her wayward hand and stepped back. Tabri's shadow tickled the tips of his toes. Touching his spiraling tail to it, he dissolved into his pledge's silhouette. Only two circles of blue light on the flat ground belied his presence.

"I'll always be with you."

"I love you, Damné."

A wolf's howl echoed over the village.

"Be on your way now," Ozaika told them, "That Fiend won't remain at rest for long."

Without another word, Tabri bolted out of the temple. Drawing on her newfound strength and the old magic flowing through her, she leapt high into the air. Jumping over the village's border of wards and into the woods beyond. She landed on her voyeur's lookout.

Finding her footing, the chosen champion of the witches took a deep breath and concentrated. She reached out as her teacher instructed, seeking a canker sore in the invisible field of magic. Any spot of torment and agony.

Damné fed her another pulse of love as encouragement.

The place the determined spellcaster sought revealed itself soon enough. Waves of pain emanated from it. Turning her gaze out to the landscape, she tried to pinpoint her quarry.

"Hawk's eye. Woad wit." She cast with her new mantra, the untranslatable phrase adding weight to her spell.

Her vision turned telescopic. Spying the demon's dwelling for herself, Tabri almost wasn't surprised at its choice.

The Fiend had nested itself in the Deacon's church.

"I sense some fear in you, my beloved," said Damné, "But also some excitement? Curious. Is this a common feeling for humans?"

"Not usually, my dear devil. But imagining how that bigoted zealot is going to react when I banish this monster from his chapel is as delicious to me as to you." Her bravado faded as the danger reared its visage. "If I banish it, and that's a big if."

"I have no doubt you will succeed."

Tabri wished she shared his certainty. Though Ozaika had taken her through the ritual, spell by spell, exactly as she would have performed it, the young witch still felt apprehensive. The fear that she would miss some important detail stayed lodged at the forefront of her thoughts. Ever astute to her anxieties, Damné tried to ease her mind.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable with a more familiar spell?" He offered.

The devil's comment caused an idea to occur to her. She had learned the banishment ritual by heart, but a second strategy might be prudent. She formed a quick plan and whispered it to her Patron, who nodded in approval. Hopping down to the forest floor, they gathered the necessary materials. After swift work, they admired the results.

"Do you think this scheme of mine has a chance?"

"Our foe certainly won't be expecting it."

She smiled. Good enough for her.

An owl's hoot reminded them of their purpose. The Fiend still waited. From her shadow, Damné agreed they make haste, so Tabri grabbed hold of the bloodstone brooch. Casting her spell quick, she transformed into a vicious mother wolf and padded at full sprint toward the Xurean settlement.

The rough ground beneath her paws gave way to soft grasses as the last trees of the Old Wood spilled out into the meadow. Sudden openness surrounded her and she slowed her pace. Communicating by thought, Damné asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No. It's just... I haven't been outside the forest in such a long time. I forgot how open the world beyond those trees is."

Tabri allowed herself but a moment to adjust. Roving through the tall grass, she approached the village, barely visible through the veil of mist. The young spellcaster, still in wolf form, entered with caution. The knot of pain she tracked here was spread thin, a pervasive ache in the ether.

"This place is giving off such a disquieting aura."

"Agreed," said Damné, "I'm reminded too much of the Fiendlands."

Passing into the village set their nerves affray. Flat moonlight shone through the mist, casting eerie illumination. Dust hung on every surface. Not a soul or sound disturbed the scene. A vast sense of emptiness filled the place, like an open tomb. Nothing appeared damaged or broken. From the look of the town, all the Xureans had just gotten up and left.

"Where is everyone?" Tabri wondered, "Did all the settlers flee?"

As they moved toward the church, a few moths floating through the haze betrayed the only sign of life. The spellcaster turned wolf made note of the bugs heading in the same direction as her. Leaving pawprints in the dust behind her, she padded past the hamlet's thatched conical huts to the earthen mound that marked the Deacon's church.

Tabri shifted back into human form and Damné exited her shadow. The two looked on the simple stone arch covered in moths, built into the dirt structure and opening on a staircase underground, a descent not into a home of the gods but a Fiend's lair. Trails of mist spilled out from the doorway, licking at their heels like deep-sea tentacles. A burst of cold air blew across their forms, a released breath from the manmade cavern.

Chill crept along Tabri's skin, despite the warmth of her feather cloak. Her beloved Patron held a blaze in his palm close to her.

"Our quarry is trying to scare us," he said.

"I can tell. Do you think it's awake yet?"

"Most likely."

Standing at the threshold, peering into the depths, Tabri’s faith wavered. She despised the zeal of others, remembering how it had left her for dead in the woods. But now she worried that her own zeal, the zeal to defend her home and overcome her powerlessness, may have doomed her. The memory of this Fiend's minion, that screaming specter that raked her back with its claws, flashed in her mind. Did she really believe herself to be enough of a spellcaster for this challenge?

Seeking some comfort, Tabri found it in the wolf tooth amulet hanging beneath her bloodstone talisman. She clutched her beloved's gift in her fist, letting the sharp tip jab the heel of her hand, and another memory came to her. Of her first day in the Old Wood, when a tiny nameless Fiend rescued her from that pack of wolves. Her devil had always been there for her, and she drew strength from that. Together, they could face this monster.

Damné, face unreadable as ever, gazed at his beloved expectantly.

"Let's go," she said.

The temperature, already low, seemed to sink as they descended the smooth stone steps. Only the thin layer of dust protected Tabri's bare feet from the cool surface. She kept one hand on the wall for balance in the narrow stairwell. Cobwebs gathered around her fingers as she went.

The blaze behind Damné's eyes lit their path. The torches that normally served that purpose all stood snuffed. Once more, Tabri cursed the Deacon and his damned new deity. Why build your chapels underground? All it did is brought you closer to the traitor god, chained at the world's center. But then there was much she never understood about the Deacon. Like how such a hateful man had become a leader to Xur's lost children.

The reason mattered little. In his heretical zeal, that mad pontiff had built a lair perfect for a Fiend to take residence. The stairs didn't descend very deep under the ground, but the darkness, claustrophobic walls, and cobwebs made it seem much deeper. As the witch and her devil reached the bottom, a sound like splintering wood met them. The horrible cracking came from the chapel's far end.

"Come in, little one," said a hoarse, high-pitched voice.

Damné looked to his pledge and she nodded her assent. He returned to her shadow.

The chapel itself was not all that large, a spartan room with an altar opposite the entrance. Behind it stood a statue of the Deacon's chosen god, a reed-thin crone draped in gossamer veils, buried beneath layers and layers of gray wax. Slits where the walls met the ceiling let in the faintest slivers of moonlight. There were no pews, for the worshipers prayed on their knees. But the floor was not empty. As Tabri moved toward the altar, her cloak leaving trails in the dust, she discerned the shape of several human-sized bundles, like sacs of spider eggs, clinging to the sides of the room. She believed she'd found the missing settlers.

Keeping her voice calm yet firm, the young witch called out, "Show yourself Fiend. I have no patience for your tricks."

"As you wish."

The cracking returned, coming from the goddess statue. The mass of dust and wax burying it split open like a cocoon and from within, her enemy emerged. Tabri's hand shot to her bloodstone talisman, and she fell into an offensive stance. She would be prepared for whatever form this monster took.

Stepping out of her chrysalis, the Fiend's nude, emaciated body appeared mummified. A wild matte of unkempt, spider-strung locks burst from her head. Her eyes were huge, blank white ovals. Mist drooled out of her mouth between craggy, broken teeth. A ring of coarse, wiry black hair circled her throat. Two moth wings, brittle as glass, jutted from her shoulder blades. Decaying before Tabri's eyes, the Fiend resembled some carrion-eating insect blown up to human size, wearing the flesh of its last meal.

Tabri covered her nose and mouth to guard against the stink of rotting meat.

This decomposing monster extended her arms toward the young spellcaster, joints cracking and skin sagging with each movement, as she shuffled forward.

"Come now, my young visitor. Don't be so rude. You're in my home after all."

"This is a house for the Gods. You're nothing more than an unwelcome guest. Here, and in this realm in general."

"Again with the rudeness. This wonderful chamber was made to be my domicile, my place of honor. I was welcomed in and as you can see, I've already begun decorating."

The Fiend's gnarled feet left the ground as she hovered through the still air over to one of the giant eggsacs. She caressed it as gently as one would a sleeping newborn.

"When these pitiful humans wake from their slumber, my whispered spells will be nested in their brains. They'll pledge their loyalty to me and call me Goddess. Then I shall build my fiefdom outside the Fiendlands, earning me a name for sure."

Damné whispered to Tabri from her shadow, "All this trouble from a Fiend who hasn't even earned her name yet? Tread carefully."

She nodded and remained on guard. "And what if they don't start worshiping you? What will you do then?" she asked.

"They worship me already, though they are unaware they do." She airlessly gestured toward the icon of the crone, the Deacon's chosen deity. "Their leader promised me their faith in exchange for the power to sway their wills."

"Wait, you are the Deacon's nameless god?"

"Indeed. He summoned me to this realm to serve that purpose."

Mindful of her teachings, Tabri disguised her shock. The Deacon rose to his position with Fiendish magic? And he was serving up his followers, her fellow Xureans like Alinka, to this monster like fatted calves? Despicable, even for a despicable man.

"But if they choose not to pledge their faith..." Her adversary shrugged. "I suppose I'll just eat their souls. These frightened fools have already been such a delicious source of misery."

The Fiend paused and sniffed the air through the empty cartilage of her nose. Independent of each other, her blind eyes turned to Tabri and her lips pulled into a discomforting smile.

"Don't worry, I'll save plenty of room for the souls of your Witch friends too."

Before she could react to the threat, the desiccated corpsefly flew over to her in an instant and licked the Xurean maid's face with a long, thick, and slimy tongue.

"Interesting," said the monster, "You smell like a Witch, but taste human. What are you?"

"A spellcaster."

Tabri jabbed her hand into her foe's hollow ribcage. As the hellspawn gasped, she cried, "Burst of Dawn! Woad Wit!"

Her hand exploded into light, blowing a hole in the demon's chest and throwing her back. She landed in a bundle of cobwebs, smoke rising from her wound, but staggered to her feet in seconds. Tabri kept her hands up, magic sparking from the bloodstone at her throat to her palms. Her enemy hissed at her.

"You foul little harridan! I'll eat your soul!"

"You are welcome to try."

Snarling, the ghoulish hag rushed forward, long broken nails ready to claw her prey. Tabri thrust her hands into the feather cloak's hidden pockets. When the Fiend's claws came within inches of her flesh, she pulled out half a dozen of Ozaika's intricate warding totems. One had been enough to torture Damné. Six would be agony.

The Fiend screamed, throwing up her arms in sudden pain. Her attack forgotten, she collapsed to the ground and tried to crawl away. Tabri pressed forward, strings of her enchanted wards dangling from her fingers. Unknown to her, mist began trailing into the chapel around her ankles.

"I'll give you one chance, nameless one. Leave now, return to the Fiendlands of your own volition and never step foot in Hauntergast again, and I'll harm you no more. But if you refuse, then I will banish you by force. Which do you choose?"

Dragging her weak body across the floor to the nearest eggsac, the Fiend's screaming only got louder. She tried ripping the cocoon open; to rejuvenate herself on the soul of its sleeping hostage, but Tabri pushed her weapons closer and backed her adversary into the corner of the chamber.

"What is your answer?" she demanded.

Between pained wheezes, the monster said, "You're... too... Overconfident."

"Tabri, look out!" shouted Damné.

He shot out of his pledge's shadow in time to knock away two of the Fiend's foggy minions. Another moment, and they would have snuck up on the pair. The specters let out their death rattles as they attacked Damné, gnawing on his arms and neck. He ripped them off with no effort and burnt them to smoke in his grasp.

"Are you hurt?" Tabri asked her devil.

"No, they were too weak to cause real damage."

"I remember you now," their foe said, "I thought you looked familiar. You're that novice witch who tried chaining my minion in the forest. And you," she pointed to Damné, "you're that simpleton the Father of Fiends banished."

The Fiend would have chuckled, but Tabri's totems turned the laugh to a grunt in her throat.

"Be quiet, you nameless corpse fly," said Tabri, "You won't disrespect my devil while I'm here."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Beloved, your anger is not necessary. Her words mean nothing to me."

"Maybe, but I have to do right by my Patron. Don't I?"

They shared a warm smile in the cold, damp chamber.

Despite her pain, the harried hag on the floor croaked out a mocking chortle.

"You took him as a Patron, my witchy morsel? You must be an even bigger dunce than he is."

"She said that's enough from you, so silence!" demanded Damné.

Their foe continued, "Did he tell you about his life back in the Fiendlands? How he was always the weakest, most inept Fiend any of us had ever seen? Imagine, being weak on top of being soft in the head. We would have pitied him if we had any."

"Be silent!"

"I guess he was lucky that you had some pity. Only way he survived I bet, finding a gullible human and feeding off them like a parasite. How pathetic. Of course, not as pathetic as you for falling for such an obvious sympathy play."

"Shut up before I rip your jaw off!"

If not for her totems, Tabri would have held him back.

"Damné, keep calm. This is what she wants. Let's perform the ritual and be rid of her."

The Fiend turned to her. "And now he's gotten you to make him your Patron. You're stuck with him forever. I'm not sure which of you is a bigger moron. After all, he doesn't have a name any more than I do."

Roaring, Damné lunged at her. His new size knocked Tabri back, sending her sliding across the chapel into another eggsac. The strings of the totems fell from her fingers as she went, clattering to the dusty floor. Her devil snatched their foe by the throat and slammed her into the wall.

"I do have a name. I am Damné. That is the name my pledge gave me and I wear it proudly. More than any craven vermin like yourself could know."

"Name or no, you're still an idiot."

"Huh?"

In the span of a blink, the Fiend spun Damné around, trading places with him. Snapping her head back like there was a hinge in her jaw, she vomited up a torrent of wax and wood pulp all over him. He threw up his hands too late. Wet slop dripped off his form, gluing him in place.

The fetid hellion sniffed her new captive. "What's this?"

She tore off Damné's wolf tooth amulet.

"Ah, this is how you got around those wards. I think I'll have to keep this." She draped it around her neck.

Tabri, still on her back, made to grab her totems, to regain the advantage. But her foe was fast. Flicking her wrist, fog swallowed up the witch's weapons and decay set into the wood. They turned black and crumbled into ash.

"All alone now, morsel. No Patron, no charms. You'll make a fine appetizer before I move on to the rest of your Coven."

The Fiend floated inches off the ground, advancing slowly toward her.

"Maybe I'll steal your face when I enter the forest. Those blue-skinned hags won't suspect a thing. They'll welcome their destruction in with open arms."

Shaky on her feet, Tabri stood and threw her up fists, aglow with arcane power, ready to keep fighting. The Fiend's split lips pulled into a smirk. She let loose a glass shattering shriek into Tabri's face, stunning her, and back handed the young spellcaster. Tabri reeled, amazed how hard the blow hit. Blood trickled from her mouth.

She wiped it away. I still have my fall back. If I can make an opening, just for a moment, I can put my scheme into motion. Then I can perform the ritual. But how? My totems are gone.

The hovering Fiend twisted in the air, the hole in her chest still gaping, and shot toward Tabri. Dodging a second too late, her adversary clapped a hand around her throat, tight as a vice. The monster's blank eyes and gap-toothed smile chilled her straight through to her soul. Desperate, she flicked through every spell she knew, hoping for any strategy.

But as Tabri struggled, sudden warmth filled her in the cold, subterranean chamber, flowing through her and Damné's shared aura. Her Patron, her beloved devil, was sending her his love. The same love she gave him to feed on. Over her foe's shoulder, His hollow head still blazed despite his confinement.

As she spotted that azure blaze, she got her strategy.

"Now," said the Fiend, "I'll offer youa choice. Give up and I'll make this painless." She dragged a long, brown broken nail down Tabri's cheek. "I'll wait until after you're dead to cut your face off. Keep resisting and I'll do it while you're alive. So choose. There's nothing else you can do."

The monster loosened her grip. Tabri coughed and said, "There's one thing I can do."

"What's that?"

"Start a fire."

Snatching a handful of the Fiend's hair, she cast "Ignite! Woad Wit!" The bloodstone talisman shined, pouring out its power, and embers popped in her palm. The hellspawn's frail dirty locks went up like dry kindling and she screamed, dropping Tabri. Free, the nimble spellcaster scrambled over to where Damné hung imprisoned.

He called her name through the muffling cocoon.

"Brace yourself," she told him and put a hand to his prison.

"Break! Woad Wit!"

The force of a dropped hammer gathered in her hand. With a tap, she shattered the wax and wood pulp tomb into splintered pieces, leaving Damné unharmed. He hugged his pledge.

"Tabri, I'm sorry," he said, "Her words pulled my strings. I should know better than anyone how a Fiend can cloud and manipulate feelings."

"No need for apologies Damné. We can still perform the ritual, still banish her. We have the fall back; I just need an opportunity to trigger it. Think you can buy me some time?"

The devil turned his gaze unto their foe, eyes narrowing with fury.

"Gladly."

He spread his wings and reared his head back, roaring, while the flame in his skull bloomed into an inferno. Their enemy had just managed to extinguish her burning scalp when Damné leapt across the chapel to throttle her. Their opponent distracted, Tabri moved behind the altar and sat cross-legged, concentrating on casting the enormous spell.

The two Fiends wrestled in each other's grasp, rolling on the floor, and thrashing like savage animals. They hissed and barked, baring their teeth, clawing at whatever parts they could snare. At times, they halted their furor and sized the other up, rearing up like feral cats, then re-engaged, lightning quick, throwing their bodies at one another.

They locked arms, and the nameless hag spat at Damné, "Traitor! Heretic! You were a whelp when we banished you. How did you become so strong?"

"This is a power you'll never understand," he answered. "It comes from love and compassion. Both are more nourishing than any misery I've ever tasted."

They twisted on the ground, biting and scratching each other. Damné ripped off some of the Fiend's flesh, but her teeth couldn't break his wood hard skin. She screeched at her attempt.

"What treacly nonsense," she shot back. "You can only grow strong when you make others weak. When you destroy them before they can destroy you. That is what earns a Fiend their name!"

She raised her claws to dig them into Damné, but he snatched her wrists and headbutted her, embers from his skull spilling on her face as she reeled.

"Yet I have a name and you don't."

Tabri did her best to ignore the chaotic din around her. All her concentration needed to be on her spell. The trigger had been pulled, but she still required time to draw the prepared materials here. Through the ether, she sensed the vibrations of heavy marching feet. They were on their way.

If the hag had possessed a nose, it would have been broken. She rubbed the smashed cartilage and went, "Bah! A name given by a mortal is worse than worthless. And you're worse than feeble-minded. You're a disgrace to all Fiends, letting yourself become a domesticated pet. She might as well be yourPatron."

"If being a Fiend means being like you, then I would rather be a pet."

The Fiend snarled at him. Both of them got up on their haunches, flared their flightless wings, and roared at each other.

Their enemy cried out, "If you won't eat misery, I'll feed you my hatred!"

She pounced on Damné, grabbing his head, and vomited glop into his hollow skull. His blue flame smoldered into smoke, and he threw her off him. Woozy, he shuffled back with a hand to his forehead.

Peeking out for just a second, Tabri witnessed her Patron's distress. She almost jumped from her position to help him, but their back up plan required her full attention. So she did the only thing she could. Through their shared aura, as he'd done for her, she passed some of her own strength on to her devil.

His interior blaze re-ignited, burning low but still burning. He collapsed to the ground, clearly unable to continue the skirmish.

The hag laughed. "A name and a pledge and that's all the fight you have in you? A true Fiend would have gone on until they died."

Damné weakly turned to Tabri. She nodded.

"I must not be a true Fiend then, because I was just keeping you distracted."

"Eh?"

Out of nowhere, huge holes broke open in the chapel's ceiling, chunks of masonry falling to the surrounding floor. As moonlight flooded in, massive forms dropped into the underground church, landing with booming thuds. Tabri stood to direct her new soldiers, their fall back scheme. The same animated wooden dolls she'd made so long ago, but built from logs instead of twigs.

She pointed at the Fiend. "Attack her."

Fast for their bulk, the half dozen log figures surrounded their target and pounded on her with their thick arms. Bare stumps of oak, maple, and pine beat the nameless hag's face into lumps, broke her ribs, and bent her delicate wings at cross angles. Tabri's servants knocked the Fiend around the tight circle they'd closed around her, like a ragdoll held together by weak stitches. She made a valiant attempt to clamber out over their knobby stump heads, but a blow to the stomach dropped her back into the fray.

As her dolls battered the haughty monster, Tabri rushed to Damné's side. He breathed heavily as he lay propped up against an eggsac, the flame in his head growing and dying like each breath was a bellows. He lived, for now, but he needed rest.

"How badly did she harm you?" she asked.

"It hurt, but it won't be permanent. Could you hold my hand though? Feeding would ease the recovery."

"Of course."

The two lovers, the girl and her devil, clasped hands. Their shared aura came together and they felt complete. Tabri ran her thumb down her Patron's hard cheek, and he drew some emotion from her. The spiritual transfusion made his fire burn a little brighter.

Turning their attention to the beating before them, Tabri ordered her log dolls to step back from their victim. The Fiend lay bruised and swollen on the floor. She righted herself a little, leaning uneasy on one elbow, coughed up a glob of thick black ooze and moaned.

"Time to finish this," said Tabri rising.

Hands held up in ritual formation, her bloodstone talisman glowed and the enchanted servants stood at attention, awaiting her command. She directed them to the sides of the chamber where they took position, one in each corner and two on opposite walls.

"Now, be our shield. Guard against all foulness."

With the slightest tilt of her wrists, the enchanted soldiers spread their timber arms wide and triggered Tabri's second spell. From arm to arm, a circle of shimmering laser light ignited around them, trapping Tabri, Damné, and their adversary within. The air in the chapel hummed with the barrier's power. The wooden warriors became warding totems, giant-sized versions of those dangling from the trees outside the Witchfolk village.

"I gave you the choice. I offered to let you leave willingly. But you refused. So now, I banish you by force!" declared Tabri.

Getting up on almost surely broken knees, the hag showed no sign of the intense pain she should have been experiencing. Instead, her head lolled back, and she let out a smoky belly laugh.

"What? But she-"

Damné interrupted Tabri's shock with an agonized groan. He slipped off the eggsac on to his side, clutching his stomach, and curled into a fetal position. His interior blaze grew erratic, leaping and dying with no pattern.

"The pain... Make it stop... The pain!"

"Damné. What pain? I don't understand."

The Fiend laughed harder. "Oh, my stupid morsel..." She crooked her head to one side; remaining hair draped over her face, and held up the wolf tooth amulet around her neck. "Did you forget about the trinket I stole?"

Tabri gasped. In the fracas, she had forgotten their foe's cheap theft. Now without his protection, wards ten times as strong as any strung around the village bore down on her Patron. Anguish wracked his body.

"What will you do now?" their enemy gloated, using what small vigor she had left to stay upright, "If you drop your spell to aid your Patron, I'll escape with his trinket. But in his condition, if you keep this circle up to banish me, he's likely to perish as well. And madness is all that awaits a pledge whose Patron dies. You've trapped yourself, "spellcaster."

Tabri regarded her foe with contempt until she felt a tug on her loose dress. Through his torture, Damné's embers burned hot enough to let him do that much.

"Beloved... Do it! Banish this foul thing. Don't," he groaned, "worry about me."

"I have no reason to worry. You've already given me the answer to her quandary."

She snapped the thin leather thong of her own wolf tooth amulet. The dental ornament jabbed her hand as it came free. This sign of their Pact, his gift to her, possessed the same enchantment as her devil's pilfered protection. Damné would rise again.

But the moment it left Tabri's skin, the excruciating pain bearing down on her devil crashed down on her as well. She collapsed next to him. Her log sentinels remained in place, their barrier still gleaming.

Their corpsefly foe chortled at their ignorance as her knees gave out. "Foolish girl, do you understand your Pact at all? That sorry excuse for a Fiend is your Patron, so you're connected. Surely you must have felt it. You receive both his strength and his weakness." She arced her back and laughed her punctured lungs dry.

To Tabri, it felt like a mountain was pressing down on her, her whole body pinned beneath the force. The slightest movement sent slivers of pain shooting through her nerves.

"Tabri..." whined out Damné.

"Damné..."

Struggling against her own wards, she crawled toward her devil. His flame wavered as though in a wild wind. They reached out their hands.

"Damné, I'm sorry. It's my fault we're both here. I knew I wasn't up to this task. Because of me, our home is doomed. I'm a failure as a spellcaster."

"No Tabri. Don't apologize. I am responsible here... as your Patron. I couldn't... give you the strength you needed. But I'm thankful, that for a little while at least, you gave me a home."

"Damné, you sorry devil..."

As Patron and pledge struggled to reach each other, the hag dragged her broken body to the chapel's side. She couldn't escape the circle, but nothing stopped her from pulling one of her cocooned hostages within. Protected by her stolen amulet, she could feed on the unfortunate captive's soul and regain her vitality. She wouldn't even need to attack Tabri and Damné once restored. If she waited long enough, the barrier would kill them for her.

Shaking loose some of her own webbing and wax, the Fiend hauled in one of her preserved meals. She clutched the cocoon to her chest like a newborn and let out another low, cracking chuckle, directed at Damné.

"Do you see the wisdom of the Fiends now, you slow-witted imbecile? Only rely on yourself. Sharing strength makes you weak. In the end, it destroys you."

Her mirth echoed on the chapel walls as she drew one brown, ragged nail across the eggsac.

Tabri locked eyes with Damné, shared agony evident. Their fingers almost touched they were so close. One more push and they would reach. She and her devil still had a chance. If one of them could just get her amulet...

No, if they both could.

Gritting her teeth, the spellcaster slapped her hand down on the hard, dusty floor. She gripped one end of the leather cord and whipped it up faster than an arrow's flight. Instantly, Damné understood and caught the other with his outstretched hand.

Soothing energy poured into both of them and the pain of the wards eased. Not disappearing, simply dulling to an ache, but that was enough to let the two rise to their feet. They wound the wolf tooth around their clasped hands and Damné's fire blazed higher. Tabri breathed in magic, sending it surging through their shared aura, creating a loop of power, carrying more might with each cycle.

"You're wrong. We're stronger together than we either were apart. And that strength comes from our connection," said Tabri.

"It's like a fire," said Damné, "One blaze can light many others, without burning any less bright. A shame you and my brethren can't see that."

"But you'll have plenty of time to ponder the subject back in the Fiendlands."

Seeing the tables turn, the Fiend gripped her cocoon with two hands to rip it open. Tabri glared and cast a new spell.

"Amulet, return to your owner. Woad wit!"

Damné's stolen wolf tooth charm shot off the hag's neck and into Damne's hand. He burned it to cinders. The warding barrier hit the rotted corpsefly like a falling hammer. She shrieked as smothering pain enveloped her already broken body.

"Filthy girl and filthy moron! I'll eat your souls! You can't do this to me!"

As she whined and harangued on the floor, Tabri and Damné shared another glance.

"Together?"

"Together."

They turned back to their foe and extended their clasped hands. Magic from Tabri's bloodstone and her devil's internal reservoir pooled in their combined fist. Arcane light flooded the chthonic chapel, and the Fiend threw up a near skeletal arm to shield her blank eyes.

"Nameless Fiend, by this circle I've drawn, I bar you from this realm!" shouted Tabri.

Tabri's log soldiers stomped their thick arms to repeat her declaration.

"Nameless Fiend, by invoking your master, the Father of Fiends, I tether you back to your homeland!"

A fat prismatic chain wrapped around the Fiend's throat as the words left Damné's lips.

In unison, Patron and pledge gave the last litany.

"Nameless Fiend, by the power of this amulet, grown strong by our love, we banish you from this realm, never to return!"

Their captive adversary moaned and struggled against her chain. Her pupil-less eyes grew wide as they lifted up their clasped hands, tip of the wolf tooth pointed down. With a great cry of "woad wit!" they plunged the amulet into her forehead.

It struck like flint to kindling. A flash brighter than the sun erupted at the blow and the two were flung back. The burst of illumination swelled out in a tsunami. Everything: the timber soldiers, the egg sacs, and the whole of the underground chapel, vanished in its intensity. The Fiend screeched out a death rattle as the light swallowed her, vaporizing her form. A deafening hum drowned out her last cry.

Then, quick as a blink, the ritual was complete. The fog rolled away and the only illumination came from the moon overhead. Spots of color popped in Tabri's vision, and she shook them away. Her log dolls relaxed, their glimmering circle dissipating into sparkles. All that remained of the Fiend was a thin trail of smoke snaking up from a scorch mark on the floor.

Their hands were still entwined. Her devil roused himself and they released their clasp. He asked, "Did... did we succeed?"

"I believe so," said Tabri, "Are you hurt Damné?"

"Somewhat. Your wards were strong."

"Here."

She re-tied the cord of her amulet and placed it over the devil's head. Fire filled his eyeholes.

"Thank you. But won't you need this to enter the village?"

"We'll deal with that when we arrive."

Exhausted from expending so much energy, the young spellcaster rested her head on her Patron's chest. Gentle as snowfall, he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you Damné."

"I love you too Tabri. If you don't mind, I think I'll retreat into your shadow to rest."

"Of course"

Turning to smoke, he dove into her silhouette. Still tired, Tabri called over one of animated dolls to help her up. She directed the other five out, watching them jump out the holes they arrived through. Her servant led her to the narrow exit.

Behind her, the Fiend's forgotten cocoons rustled. Hands pushed through the thick webbing and spongy waspwax to free themselves. The captured Xureans tore open their prisons and gulped down revitalizing air. Men and women stepped out into the chapel as if from a sudden, curious slumber.

"What happened?" said one, "My head is so fuzzy."

"I remember a monster. She... put us to sleep."

"Yes! Then she wrapped us in these webs. But where is she?"

The settlers examined their surroundings, finding no sign of their tormentor, but spotted their rescuer making her leave.

"Wait Miss, who are you? Did you free us?"

Tabri turned back and a stray moonbeam threw her shadow on the wall. The twin flames of Damné's eyes shone clear and the shade shifted into his form. The Xureans backed away at the sight.

She held out an empty hand. "Fear not, I mean you no harm. Indeed, I am your rescuer. The Fiend that assailed your home is gone, banished from this realm. If you wish to know more, I suggest speaking to your Deacon. It was he who summoned that foul specter."

That fact drew gasps from her former people, but their shock soon turned to curiosity.

"Do we know you, miss?"

Tabri opened her mouth to answer, but paused. For a moment she considered revealing her identity as the girl they'd exiled all those years ago. There would be no better retribution than telling them she was now their salvation. But the new witch had moved beyond such pettiness.

Instead, all she said was, "No. You know me not. I am but a spellcaster, passing through. Your thanks are unnecessary. Good night."

With that, she turned and left. As she did, the idol of the Deacon's god cracked apart and toppled over.