Run. This is all they are allowed. They had to run and run fast, on the fleetest of foot and with the utmost haste. The darkness that crept upon the land cast their shadows ahead, and that is what Celia had to focus on. They had been running for only three minutes, but hours transpired in that time between each heavy pain. The pain she had to endure from her curse, oh the pain, like hot iron driven across her skin, made this effort ten times its actual cost. Her mind dull, the shadows of trees that surrounded them becoming enemies, and the land becoming an endless battlefield she traverses. Her eyes burned with sweat, and each breath becoming more and more of a strain upon herself. The only thing that kept her on her feet was what she held in her arms before her. Massua was still unconscious, murmuring nothing within herself. She had grown heavy in her grasp. She could feel the massive sums of power, the power of creation, her animal instincts, all of it outside her reach. She could only use what was allowed to her, and that was simply to run.

She could sense Elena just behind her. Elena was much slower than Celia usually was. But coupled with the curse and the fatigue of the wound she suffered, she was forced to stick close with her. Elena had told her to go ahead to retrieve Gray, but she once again convinced her that staying together made for a better chance for their survival. Gray's life must rest in his own hands, though Celia knew that against several makhai, they stood no chance whatsoever. The dread followed her, crept within her like a sickness that weakened her will. And then she heard it. First a whistle and then a sickening sound, unmistakable. A blade slicing through flesh and clothing. She turned over her shoulder; the moments slowed to mere crawls in time as multiple things happened at once. Elena was stumbling, a knife embedded in her calf. The makhai had caught up and on their heels. In fact, one already has their hands nearly on Elena's neck. Celia had to make a choice then and there and do it fast. She had not time to ponder. She turned and attempted to separate the two, to give Elena whatever chance she had to get free. She knew this was foolish. She would only be putting herself and Masua in danger. But she did not question her instincts, ever.

The foot impacted heavily into Makhai's chest. If she was stronger, she would have decimated the man, but it was merely enough to startle him. Elena stumbled to a roll, seething through the pain as she wriggled the blade free. Elena tried to get running along, maybe pick up Elena if she could, but before she thought even to do so, she was tackled from behind. The Makhai had them surrounded, surrounded, and completely defenseless. She was tired, not even enough zoi to wrestle against their grasp. The wound in her gut seared even more with pain, not fully healed. Massua dropped her from her loose grass, rolling to a stop and not moving at all. Elena backed away from one holding a sword, ready to attack her. Elena held a sword up as she shuffled, screaming Celia's name with alarm and caution alike. The air grew erratic as the Makhai also attempted to bind both she and Massua in those strange cuffs. This was it then. Then end of her. The end of her life. All she could do was struggle futilely, desperately calling for a power that was not there. Not even her connection to the gods would answer her. not even a blade of grass could bend to her will.

Fate is merciless. He is also cruel.

Silence struck everyone. Elena stopped screaming; The Makhai froze in their tracks. Celia tore in her eyes and panted breath looked about to see what had caused the air, so chaotic before, to freeze suddenly. Winter returned on simple winds, and the beams of the moon dimmed their clarity out of sheer horror. Celia then looked over to where Massua was lying. There she was. She was standing. She was moving. And her eyes were wide open. Those clear blue eyes bounced the beams of the moons through them. But something was off. Despite her sudden arousal, there was a decidedly inhuman quality to the way she swayed, only affected by that simple breeze. Her expression was as dreamy and unaware as to when she slumbered. But why? Why was she holding the head of one of the Makhai in her hands right there?

Whispering, Celia could hear whispering. Soothing clear vocalizations that came from Massua and did not. The voice was off, older and deeper. Maybe even ancient. And although Massua's lips move, they somehow did not fit. They were rapid words, spoken in a language foreign to their ears, but the Makhai, they were actually speaking them as well. They were frozen in their movements, one still looked her dead in the eyes with a vicious focus, yet they repeated those words flawlessly. Then, Massua dropped that head and lounged at her mother. Celia could not believe her eyes as she suddenly saw Massua's foot alight with aura before colliding with the torso of the one atop of her. It burst like a bag full of fresh blood. Scattered against the ground next to them. The next, Makhai backed away, raising the blade he carried. But Massua leaped with a punch. It didn't even connect, for he was a bit too far out of reach for her short slender arms. Yet, once that fist stopped inches away from his head, it too exploded. Raw aura had been ejected from her arm at that moment, and it was enough to shatter a skull. Aura seeped from her, a chillingly calm flow. Massua's eyes were now stark white, like those of other Makhai, and that blackness was still there. Two makhai now died, the last hovering over Elena, who was back against a tree staring in utter awe. It looked to Massua with a curious gaze, then to Celia for a long time. Then finally to Elena. Celia feared it might take her hostage, but instead, it turned on a heel and ran. Into the night, it melted away like that of a mere dream. But this, what this was, was not anything that Celia could conjure in her mind.

"Mom," a small voice leaped out. Massua has still turned away towards a stunned Elena. Her arm and leg were covered in the blood of those who lied dead. She turned slowly, and Celia flinched, expecting the cold eyes to regard her as new prey. But instead, they were filled with tears. "Mother. . ."

"Massua," Celia said on bated breath. "What . . . what is this . . .?"

The aura left her as Massua suddenly realized what she had been doing. And now, she examined her surroundings. "Mother. What's happening? What's. . . where is Lyse and . . ."

"Calm yourself, please," Celia quickly crawled to her feet and walked over to Massua to examine her. She looked well and normal, healthy, in fact. No longer pale, and her eyes back to what they were. She looked as good as she has ever seen it. But why did she feel so cold around here? "Are you well, Massua? How do you feel."

"I . . . don't know? Mom, I don't know . . ." she whimpered this, tears streaming down her face as uncontrollable rivers of emotions. She suddenly embraced Celia, balling and crying as if a child, muttering something under her breath. Celia could feel the relief, the sudden release of fear and worry and panic, dread dispersed from Massua in those moments. This girl, who knows what she may have witnessed, what the hell she has endured. But she was still here; she still had the mind and reason to cry. She had her mother back. And she, she had her child. Her Massua back truly. Celia could not contain herself, and a few tears came down her cheeks, and she embraced Massua even harder.

"Forgive me . . . Massua, please forgive me," she said in her daughter's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. Please forgive me."

Massua did not respond. She just held tightly and sobbed to the heavens all her pains. And Celia took them in.

But through this display, Elena could not appreciate the reunion before her, for something far more apparent ran through her man and turned it rapid with emotions. Celia only the faint trail of aura as she launched herself towards where the Makhai and they had run from. The night seemed so long now, the last day an eternity. It took no time before she returned to the scene of these incidents. The lake was refilling from water displaced by Gray. Several bodies that had resulted from the very short conflict that had occurred laid sprawled, mangled, and broken. Not a stir among their doused decrepit bodies. Neither could she sense their aura. But in the center, and the first place she ran to. His blade was kicked away from him, and he laid motionless face down in the wet grass. She breathe caught in her throat as it pained from the sight, but she did not have the mind to think. She ran to him as quickly as possible, turning him over. He had a massive gut wound, most likely from one of their swords, several smaller minor cuts, and bruises through his lengthy struggle. He looked pale, and she feared the worst. Desperately, she picked him up and felt for a pulse any pulse. And then . . .

A thump. A dim thump, slow and steady, nearly inaudible. He was breathing the ever so shallowest breathe and his heartbeat ever so slow. But he was alive. Fortune favored him to be a knight and to have the necessary skill to heal himself. Otherwise, he would be long dead and left this world. She cried out in passion, hugging him and picking him up in her arms. He was alive.

(X)

When Lyse got back to that camp, things seemed different, at least for him. The camp seemed just too small, the arsenal at their disposal, not enough. And it seemed the exact opposites as well, too many men, too many moving parts. The frost of the late-night, the falling temperature, and the dimness of the moons spurred him along with his thought. They know their enemy, they know their weapons, and they know their land. So what comes next in this step? And how will he get this across to the others? How does one explain stumbling upon a small Frostlandian village via magic flame spirit and having a deep conversation on their entire reason for war? And the promises, what will he do about that? The entire engagement with the hyperborean left him physically and mentally weak. Especially after the drink he shared, he felt so low of energy that even trying to think was a chore for now. As he passed through the camp's boundary and made his way to his tent, he found the quiet and diligent energy of the camp somewhat soothing. Edlund was already heavily asleep, holding one of the two bottles that Moxe had presented to him. Lyse did not judge him, as he fell into his small assortments of mats and blankets to curl up in the cold and allow his tomorrow self to make the choices he needed to make.

He was blessed with no dreams that night, and his sleep was short-lived yet strangely restful. In fact, he felt as if he had slept for countless hours, bubbling with energy and a boundless clarity. He got satisfaction standing and stretching. The same could not be said for his more than a groggy companion, groaning as he pulled his heavy body holding the bottle he still held to his throbbing head. Edlund was still fully dressed, as was he, so Lyse suspects that he had passed out right then and there. True, Edlund may drink him under, but little endurance can protect one from the after-effects of a heavy drinker.

"Feeling all right?"

"Feeling like a fell off a tree right on my head," he said in a drawn voice. "That woman gave me the whole damned bottle. I could've drunk myself to death."

"Hope she wasn't counting on it. Let's see what I can do about that," Lyse stood and pulled out his pendant. He was a bit nervous about experimenting with someone, especially Edlund, but he doesn't want to be afraid of this power or what it could do. He was going to have to master it if he wished to use its various abilities. He took a deep breath, soaking in that rapid current of energy he has become so familiarized with from the past couple of months. And like all other times, he sought one among a few sources of powder mixed into this chaotic torrent. Dionysus was a wild entity to control, and for the briefest of the moment, he felt the effects of the rowdy god take hold of him. But he steeled himself and steered clear from the maddening levity that he had felt before. Instead, he sought something more controlling, focused, and vigilant. Yes, Dionysus will be of no held, so he sought the wisdom of Athena instead. Ashe touched her; random things popped into his head. His mind wandered back to the Frostlander, whether it was wise of him to make a promise, he can't keep, and what he may do with the knowledge of this conflict the Frostlands and the Clans have participated in. But he shook that off as well.

Edlund saw as the pendant brightened in his brother's grasp and cautiously leaned away. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to concentrate," he said and reached his hands out towards Edlund.

"Umm, you know. I'm feeling pretty fine now; I don't know nee-"

That cautiousness, awareness that Lyse was developing was suddenly thrust out like a net around Edlund. He shuddered as if a cold hand had been pressed upon his skin but immediately gave Lyse a perplexed look. He stood, rubbing his temples as if he had lost something.

"Wait, did you just . . ?"

"Getting better, am I not?" Lyse asked him.

"This power truly is of gods," Edlund said wistfully. "Is that all you've been practicing?"

"That and a few other things, but enough about that, we need to speak to Moxie and Makyra."

"Why?"

"I know where we can set up an ambush for Hephaestus before he actually reaches the ruins. Comes I'll explain on the way."

"Hold on," Edlund struggled to strap on the thick winter cloak as Lyse pulled open heir camp flaps. The sun was still rather young, barely sprouting over the dusty white hills of the hills and treetops. But even so, The entire camp had set in motion to continue their journey. Tents were pulled down, and horses pulled into the trail. Lyse walked directly to Moxie and Makyra, who were conversing over something warm in wooden cups. They were looking over the maps again, and Makyra seemed pleased to see Lyse approach. She gave the maps back to Moxie and turned to him. It was strange seeing her out of armor, though her toned body made it hard to think her vulnerable. She still had that imposing aura around her that made Lyse hesitant to tell her anything, but he did walk up to her, swallowing his fear. He felt like a child about to be chastised by their mother.

She pointed an accusatory finger at Lyse. "The guards told me you went off on your own, she growled. I know you are a smart man, but I need to remind you that every time you do something without warning others, it always ends badly."

Edlund looked a bit surprised by that. "Really? Why?"

"It's hard to explain," Lyse said. "I just went out to get some air, but then something caught my eye."

He explained his encounter with the the flame spirit, the strange feeling it gave him. Then his encounters with the golems and finally the Hyperborean. He left out the story the Hyperborean gave him about these entities known as the Dretvar, the Frostlanders entire reason for war, and the consequences that may come of it. Lyse is still unsure what to do about this information. So until he can meet with the king or even his mother, it will stay as it always endured as, a secret. But he did tell him about the trail, the information he was able to secure about the ruined city that even the Frostlanders are hesitant to explore, the ice fangs said to be home of dragons. And the more he told them, the more and more gears seemed to turn in all of their heads.

"Lyse, where are these ice fangs?" Makyra took the map back from Makyra and gave it to him. He pointed to a spot not too far, only a day and a half from their current location.

"Depending on the environment, it might be a good place to set an ambush for this god," Makyra said. "I don't know what it'll be like for the horses, but it seems doable."

"Wait a moment, please, friends?" Edlund gave them a nervous, pleading smile. "I wish not to alarm you, but may I remind you of the word dragon and what that connotation implies."

"Dragons haven't been spotted in decades," Lyse told him.

"So we're going to go off the word of a Frostlander, a hyperborean?" Edlund offered. "For all we know, it could be teeming with dragons ready to rip us in half."

"I don't believe that the Frostlander would lie about something like that," Lyse told him.

"And why is that?"

"Because he was far more worried about protecting his home. And think about it, if he was hiding from the other, larger kingdoms, how and why would he try to ambush us?"

"I don't know," Edlund admitted. "The Frostlanders are a curious bunch. But we have to take this road cautiously. We already have a god before us. Do we really want a dragon at our backs?"

"If you're going to be a child about it, I can send some men ahead, and they'll see if any dragons are lurking in the dark," Moxie spoke in a mocking tone.

"All I want is a little more structure in our plans," Edlund said defensively. Between All that has occurred, I think I am at least afforded that."

Moxie rolled her eyes, turning to her gathering force to pick out two for scouting purposes. "Tug, Ralia. I have a little assignment for the two of you. He ret of you lots better get up and moving within the hour you here?" And like that, the entire crew shifted to their commands. Though Tug looked a bit pale to see what Moxie wished to ask of them. Ralia as she often does seemed unbothered by the conditions set for them. So like others from Acirfa and Shi'Ased, their relaxed appearance masked any hint of doubt. Though the same could be said for more of the crew, Many were still pumped full of adrenaline from the battle, and their spirits were high. They lost no brother, only suffering the few wounded. Lyse pitied them, not fully understanding the tragedy they will face. In the best of the outcome, a third of them will be able to return to that desired ocean and their beloved ship. He had felt the god's hand upon him, felt the power that was mere infancy. And he is afraid no warning will truly prepare them all for what may occur in the coming days.

He sighed at the heavy thought but pulled towards his horse next to Edlund. But before he could mount, a firm hand gripped his shoulder. Makyra,

"What is it?"

"Is that all the Frostlander said to you?" she asked him.

Lyse assured his posture. Could she know that he was lying? He tried not to panic as he answered her. "No. He was eager to get me away from his village. Is there something you were hoping to hear?"

She quickly pulled her hand from his shoulder. "No. That is all."

"You seem very agitated around Hyperborean, or even their mention," Lyse observed, mounting his horse.

"Am I wrong to be so?" she asked him.

"No," he said quietly. "Just curious."

"Hyperborean are known for their mysterious ways, Lyse," she told him like the train of horses began to move forward. "We'll see if this lead will prove the worth."

(X)