The Xeral was quiet, life was whimsical he mused. Beating back the cultists should have earned him a year's reprieve if not more. Yet here he was on the frontlines once more, undermanned, overwhelmed, and outflanked. He needed to have a word with the Prince once he went back to Immorilla. Ahh, what he wouldn't do for some Ninkasi Beer.

An explosion rocked the lion-man out of his thoughts.

"Fume Wraiths!!" screamed Davian.

"Zeva" intoned the Xeral, a grim look on his face.

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The name Fume Wraith is a colloquialism. The Empire's official record on the Marakkh Duhn is as follows. "Semi sentient creatures from the planes of fire, made of the essence of corrupted flame and sand. A touch would scour skin off of bones. Barely cognizant of their surroundings, Fume wraiths move so fast they appear like comets, moving from one target to another devouring them with brutal efficiency". _________________________________________________________________________________

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Shrike was fearsome in her anger, obsidian plates levitating in front of her before snapping onto her body. Iridescent daggers materializing in her hands as she channeled AUM through her legs.

A crater appeared where she stood and the Shrike was nowhere to be seen.

Moving faster than the speed of sound, she appeared in the midst of the incandescent abominations.

"MOT MAHWETH"

A shockwave blasted out, shearing chunks off the nearest Fume Wraith and sending the other two cannoning off into a nearby rockface. The one closest to the epicenter had lost half its mass, lava-like blood seeping out its mangled body. Zeva swung once with her dagger, a blade of air bisecting what remained of the elemental.

A growl cut through the air, the other two Fume Wraiths had pried themselves from their temporary earthen abodes and were flying towards the Shrike with all the stealthiness of a meteor. The ambient temperature hot enough to sear flesh. Cycling enough Vitrium to keep her flesh from melting. Zeva met the Wraiths head-on. Flashes of light and a litany of sparks dotted the night sky as the Shrike took the two wraiths head-on.

Cycling compressed air around her daggers, Zeva dodged molten blows that would have shattered every bone in her body by a hairsbreadth. Her dagger leaving deep furrows weeping acrid plasma. The wraiths had accumulated a lot of damage, enough that one stumbled and promptly had its head lopped off. The other shortly followed its bright brethren. Zeva panted, the air around her scalding, her obsidian armor disassembling revealing deep welts on her arms and face. A short battle but it burned through half her reserves.

"That woman was right". Zeva opined, gripping her daggers like a vice, blood pooling from her fist and painting the grass.

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" Three Fume wraiths, two at Lattice formation, and one at the Distillation stage", reported Davian,

Rex Vitor, the large Leonid general growled " And ?"

" Dealt with. And before you ask me. She's fine. But we have bigger problems on our hands" spoke Davian. " We have a Summoner at the crystallization stage"..." or higher" finished the Xeral.