The chill of darkness disappeared. Palpable tension spread through the air. Each soldier focused only on the threat in front of them, brandishing their weapons for inevitable combat. Regardless of differences, the one commonality between all the warriors was their exposure to battle. Whether they wished to fight or not, they still had no choice. Strife was something none in these lands could escape from. Seventeen soldiers excluding Gare surrounded Farra while Naia clutched by Farra’s side in fear.

“Naia, enchant.” Farra spoke as her hand slid under her robes to her blade. Gare took a step forward, raising his axe and observing the surrounded two's movements. Then, with a twitch of his head, all the soldiers began edging forward in unison. As many as they numbered, each stepped forward with hesitation, weapons at the ready but taking care not to be hasty in their approach.

Naia shook beside Farra, stepping away from feirin's side as she quivered. Her face was sullen. She avoided the feirin's eyes as Farra glanced about to take note of the soldiers and their weaponry. Farra looked back to her subordinate who, at last, returned a tearful gaze with blackened, sorrowful eyes.

“Why did we have to come here?” Naia croaked in a choking voice, stepping further from Farra's side in a daze of distress. She clutched at her chime for a measure of resolve. Despite standing, her body felt limp and as if it could crumble to the ground at any moment.

Farra looked to the girl, reaching out to her with her free left hand even amidst the tension. Naia's body shriveled against her chime in racking nervousness as the feirin spoke. “Naia, please, remain calm and enchant me, there is nothing to fear.”

The ring of soldiers contracted, but Farra ignored their presence to remain fixated on Naia.

“Enchant me, Naia. Please.” Farra's voice hastened, gripping the handle of her sword.

“Are we really going to fight?” Naia looked up to the feirin, desperation written across her face as she held her chime to her chest, slinking away from Farra's outstretched hand. “I'm sorry Farra, if I enchant you, then I'm the one killing all of them.”

“It is better these traitors than us.” Farra kept her hand extended, but in her mind she knew the answer already.

“Enchant now.” Farra screamed causing the circle of soldiers to become tense. They looked side to side at one another, aiming their weapons and preparing to lunge forward. Naia panicked. She stepped back from Farra, her magical energies beginning to convalesce out of desperation Farra's sight revealed the impending flicker of flame that would come forth from the girl's chime. Farra pulled the black shimmering blade obscured by her robe, and plunged it into Naia's chest. The tense soldiers, warded away by Farra’s swift movements, balked as the feirin's left hand drifted downward, plucking the bag of dust from the girl's waist-side.

“Why?” Farra glared at the girl with tearful eyes. She ripped the blade from Naia's body while looking to soldiers who gazed on with disgust and trepidation.

“I'm sorry.” Naia muttered as her blood spilled across the air, her blood coated on the feirin's blade. Naia's fingers uncurled, her chime falling to the ground with repeated clinks before resting, her body falling limp on top of it.

“Traitors must be purged.” Farra spoke, indignation in her voice as her eyes full of disdain met Gare's. She dashed to the side at a group of soldiers whom the large quarry lied behind. Two soldiers readied their weapons. Farra feinted her attack toward one, luring the soldier into guarding himself before swiping her blade to guard against the soldier next to him, slipping past the encirclement. She could see each movement they would make. The soldier having fallen for her feint would try to bring his blade back around in a downward swipe while flustered. Farra forced her strength upon her blade, creating distance between the sword it clashed with and extending its swipe to deflect the second slash. “Embarrassments.” She muttered, rushing toward the dig.The two soldiers began to pursue her when Gare barked at them.

“Don't underestimate her you fools, stay in a unit.”

As Farra fled she hastily stuffed the scrolls within her robe into her black top where they wouldn't come loose. Her hand grazed past Bathalian's scroll, ignoring it, before shedding off her robe to be taken by the wind. 'Two are following?' As she neared the edge of the dig, she turned to find one of the soldier’s eyes drift to her windswept robe. She pulled a knife tucked within her tights, thrusting the blade into the air. The knife cut into the robe, pinning it against a pursuing soldier. She charged back toward the other, who briefly turned to his screaming comrade who was ripping at the robe and only twisting the knife lodged inside of him. The soldier readied himself, but with his weapon brought up, Farra's blade danced through the air in two strikes, the first knocking his blade to the side, the second finding a gap between the soldier's helmet and armor, impaling his throat. As the rest of the soldiers began a more unified pursuit, Farra took a moment to approach the soldier tearing at her robe. As he was almost free, she thrust her blade through her robe and the soldier's stomach. She hefted and turned the dead man, catching an arrow in his back. Her eyes met with the pursuing warriors and Gare, pulling the knife before tossing the body away, then turning around to continue back to the dig.

“Three.” She muttered, jumping from the cliffside and descending. She sheathed her blade and pulled one of the three knives tucked under her tunic and within her tights. The knife ground into the cliff side, slowing the feirin's descent until her feet reached the black and uneven ground. Periodic stone posts adorned with a brilliant flame illuminated the quarry which was otherwise lit by magic stones. Her hand the nearest post for a moment, preparing to knock it over into the darkness below, then reconsidering. 'I can kill them all without damaging the quarry.' She walked along the wall, plucking any magic stones providing lighting, tossing them away to expand the darkness.

“Don't be fools. She can only fend off so many blades at once. Without her enchantments she's an exceptional soldier at best.” Gare spoke as he walked behind the soldiers as they looked over the quarry's winding paths, looking toward an expanding abyss left by the feirin’s planning. “Split into no less than groups of three, she can't escape from four patrols and will be hard pressed to find an opening.” The soldiers affirmed Gare's order, some of their voices shaking audibly at the prospect of confronting Farra. “Ease your nerves, she's still just another enemy to be felled.”

Farra walked along the winding path underneath them, the steps of her boots, quiet as they ever would be against the stone ground. All around her she could discern the movements of the soldiers beginning to spread into groups, their faces offering a mixture of hesitation and foolish bravery.

'They should have ran.' She looked to a tunneling pathway, pulling at the string binding one of the sleeves to her tunic. She took one of the scrolls from her top, and pinned it underneath her sleeve with a knife, so that it rested against the stone. Only a sliver of the sleeve was visible from around the corner. After counting for a brief moment, she covered the scroll’s runes in a thin layer of dust, leaving a final rune uncovered whereupon the a simple tug of the sleeve would let the rest of the magical powder flow downward onto it. Continuing onward, her free hand brushed across the two remaining knives stored within her bottoms. Ahead was another lighting post.

She halted outside of the light. Across the chasm of the quarry was one of the patrols. She stood still and waited in the shadows of the cliff. Soon after, a crashing boom echoed forth from the tunnels behind her, accompanied by the rumbling sound of tumbling stone. The soldiers across the chasm turned their attention to the explosion.

“She's on the cliff across.” A soldier carrying a bow yelled out, nocking an arrow and firing it. Farra turned her body sideways, glancing back at the arrow before reaching to her remaining two knives, her brow furrowing. She readied both knives in her hands. The archer stopped his next shot, anticipating her tossing the knives. She threw her right hand forward, not letting go of the knife. The archer moved to one side and from Farra's other hand, the knife was let loose in the direction he was first dodging into. The archer tripped on his feet in an attempt to dodge, and with it the second knife tore through his lighter armor and lodged into his flesh, inducing a scream.

Voices began shouting back and forth from above. She could see Gare and two soldiers on one bridge overlooking the quarry, and another trio close on the cliff’s edge above her. Farra rushed along the winding way with graceful steps, holding her blade at the ready. Around the pathway leading to the right were three more soldiers with their eyes set upon her, weapons drawn beneath cold blue light.

Farra lunged at the warrior closest to the ledge. He twisted, blocking her strike with the heft of his axe then pressing his strength against her. The feirin pulled her body toward the path’s edge while yanking her blade away. The soldier shoved into her, catching himself when Farra pulled through to the other side.before. A swift tap came from the back of Farra's sword, giving the last touch of momentum needed to send him falling downward with a scream.

“Over here.” One of the remaining two soldiers called as they maneuvered to surround her. “Two of you are of little issue to me,” Farra spoke with a flourish of her sword. Both readied their blades and swiped at the same time. Farra delivered two separate swift strikes one after the other, stagnating the momentum of each of their blows. She pressed her boot forward, kicking one soldier away. Another swipe followed, only for Farra to sidestep inward, dodging then, cutting downward on the soldier's wrist. His blade fell to the ground followed by a scream of agony as his hand fell to the ground, releasing its clutch on the blade. She swooped downward, taking the blade in her left hand.

The soldier backed away in fear when Farra slid her blade across his neck. Without respite, the third soldier lunged at the feirin in the midst of his ally’s execution, but it was stopped with ease, Farra’s stolen blade welcoming steel with steel.

“Unfortunately for you all, I have no intention of dying here.” Farra grunted as the blades clashed against one another, pulling her right hand back around. She could see the next action. The soldier attempted to kick her away, just as she had done. She stepped back then to the side, avoiding the thrust of his kick before she brought her blade cleanly through his neck.. “That makes six certainly.”

Their blood soiled her pale skin as Farra continued to walk forward. One sleeve remained a part of her tunic, her other arm exposed but still untouched. Her hand grazed along the weight left in the bag of dust. 'Not yet'. Two scrolls remained, one more fireball, and the other a shielding wreath of flame. She held two blades now, and her own could yet be enchanted. If she did enchant it however, there would be dust enough for only one of her scrolls.

Farra could run and wait for help. She knew where Gare was, and she knew the archer was injured, and that possibly three other soldiers had been caught in the explosion, judging by how they chose to split their forces. Their methodology was simple and sensible, but it was insufficient. Even without her enchanted body, her wits, skill, and resourcefulness exceeded these soldiers. Running was a foolish decision, fleeing and hiding out in the darkness while a potential source as to why these rebellions occurred, escaped. On top of that there was the chance that Bathalian's soldiers did indeed show up, and came to aid these traitors. And if that were the case, then Teilve may very well walk into a trap set for him if she chose to flee. Ahead, she could see another group just beyond the end of the path, as it winded back up to level with the ground.

Touching down onto the mainland from atop the bridge, Gare and the two soldiers accompanying him rushed to catch up with another squad they knew was circling the cliff.

“Gare. Maybe we should withdraw, she could already escape if she wanted, if we continue spreading out she'll just kill all of us.”

“Didn't I say to steel yourself? She is a warrior and a killer. She's Erres' blade that's been sharpened to perfection over years. I've seen her talent and abilities fostered. She is dangerous as can be, but right now she's vulnerable. This is one of the best moments there ever will be to prevent a tragedy.”

“If we throw our lives away here though, what good will that be?”

“It won't matter if we run. This tactic was a double-edged sword. You saw her drive that blade through a girl, one she felt a companionship for and cried for. She's silenced her compassion. If she doesn't die here, then she'll hunt us all down eventually.” Another scream came from beyond the darkness ahead of Gare.

The man cried a pitiful gurgle as Farra raked her blade against his naked skin. It scored his flesh with a third crimson cut. The feirin looked down at the man on his knees; bathed in sweat, blood oozing from his lacerations, he grit his teeth against the pain. She had pinned his hands together him with her stolen blade, grinding the blade against the ground.

“Who are you loyal to?” The blade dug deeper, scraping down his skin. She pulled at the stolen blade, ripping it through the flesh of both his hands and placing it to the back of his neck. “Answer and you can die like your fellow traitors.” She whispered, dragging her blade across his back and leaving a fourth gaping wound. The man spasmed from the pain, his neck rearing back so that he gouged himself on her stolen blade. “I seem to be of little good at torturing.” she sighed. She tossed the bloody blade to the side, looking over the three corpses below her, examining each of their weapons before finally deciding to pick up a sword that was of a size smaller than her own. She then continued to rummage through each of the soldier's belongings, searching for anything she could utilize as a weapon. And if she were lucky, perhaps one of them would have magical dust. However, as Gare came into view, she stopped and took a breath.

Her body twitched when an arrow shot from her side. Farra turned her body, avoiding the arrow with ease. She could see the archer had a cloth wrapped around one eye, soaked with blood. The six remaining soldiers including Gare approached her from two sides. Crouching downward, the feirin held a second scroll in her hand, waiting to spill dust across it and what remained in the bag onto her blade.

The archer nocked one more arrow, holding his bow steady, as the rest of the soldiers edged closer and closer toward the feirin, their blades at the ready. While every soldier continued enclosing on the feirin, Gare’s eyes sharpened followed by a yell, “Back away now.”

The runes adorning both scroll and blade lit, the parchment shining with burnished light while her blade glimmered with crimson and purple runes. The scroll activated. Farra’s body became enveloped in a scorching ring of fire, consuming a slower soldier on each side of her in a fiery torrent. The sound of the raging and swirling fire drowned out their cries, and before the spell resolved, Farra looked up. Directly in front of her stood the archer and a soldier wielding a sword, both of whom were shielding their eyes from the sudden blaze. Behind her was Gare and another survivor. She turned her gaze back in front of her, gripping her blades tightly.

When the fire subsided, Farra rushed the men in front of her while Gare and the last soldier were left in her wake. Like an animal readying its claws, she gripped both swords in preparation to strike. The archer attempted to force her back, firing the nocked arrow only for it to be nearly incinerated by Farra’s flaming blade, pulling his dagger out upon seeing his adversary's dauntless charge. Her enchanted blade then came down on the dagger, slicing it in two, and continued onward, spilling fire as she cleaved through the archer.

The other soldier attempted to bring his weapon down on Farra. She pressed the short blade to the side, catching it with the guard and keeping the blade from grazing her skin. As the archer fell to the ground, she pulled her blade from him, impaling the second soldier through his armor, cutting through steel and flesh so that the heat of her blade would boil him from the inside. Then, with a gentle push, the corpse slid off her glowing, burning blade.

“Why did you bring no enchanted arms, you came woefully unprepared.” Farra mused aloud over the bodies beneath her, turning her gaze to the last two remaining soldiers.

“Procuring enchanted arms for a number of soldiers would require an explanation, something that the quartermasters or any other officer might question given my duties. And that aside, we thought it best to limit your armaments and ability of turning our weapons against us.” Gare reached for the bag of dust at his side, pulling the tie binding it apart, spilling the entire bag over his axe. An ethereal black and golden glow consumed the head of his axe, enchanting it and transforming it into a double-bladed axe.

“You underestimate me. There are only two of you left. I will make a proposition. Return to the temple with me in shackles, Gare, and I will give this last soldier a merciful death.” Farra clenched her shorter sword. “There isn't any sort of escape for either of you now.”

“You're a savage, Farra.”

“It matters not what others think of me. I am Lord Erres' blade. I take it you refuse my proposition then?”

The soldier stepped forward, answering in Gare's stead with a shaking voice. “Of course we refuse.”

“You say that, but your voice all but suggests mental defeat. You're nothing but a burden on Gare at any rate.” Farra dashed forward, rousing Gare to prepare his weapon. She skirted the edge of where the axe could reach, instead maneuvering around to the soldier who stepped from Gare's side, brandishing his own weapon.

“Get back.” Gare shouted, lowering his axe to shield the soldier. Farra's enchanted blade came, grazing her blade against the glowing axe before pulling back. The accompanying soldier retreated to the side,

Farra circled around the two men slowly. “How futile, you'll whittle away what little chance you have left at this rate Gare. Or is it a strategy to draw out your deaths for hope of reinforcements?”

“Reinforcements? This is us and only us. You're being paranoid.” Gare swung his axe into the ground, then plowed the ground upward. Stone flung about, forcing Farra back to cover herself as a hail of stone came. She dodged outward, feeling her exposed arm cut by some of the stone shards.

“Unfortunate. But my own reinforcements are on their way.” Farra picked up a third blade from the dead body of a soldier, and hurled it in their direction. Gare deflected the blade with a short swing, bringing it back down as Farra attempted to cut inward in her rush. The angling allowed her to step out toward the other soldier. Gare tilted the knob of his axe, preparing to catch the impending blade on it. The soldier accompanying Gare extended his own armament to protect him, only to have it cut through swiftly by Farra’s enchanted black edge. Farra curved her strike and increased the force of her blade so that it rended through the throat of Gare’s axe before he could shove her away. Gare’s strength followed through, shoving Farra back so that she tumbled against the stone ground.

The soldier took a breath, his blade shattered upon the floor. Gare glanced briefly at his axe's shortened handle and spat. As she scraped and slid against the ground, Farra’s pale arm and part of her face became adorned with blood. “We shall see how you fare with a shorter weapon.” Farra blitzed back forward, unabated by her wounds. A swift and reaching strike came, pulling back as the axe swung toward it. She stepped forward, forcing a reaction with each of her movements. Her mind kept steady on both soldiers, her eyes only worrying about the placement of her strikes. Another flurry came that forced Gare to back in an attempt to shield the disarmed man. As he guarded with the axe once more, a swift stab came from Farra's other blade, scraping at the normally heavily-armored hand of the seasoned warrior.

The disarmed soldier watched from behind, looking to the corpses of his comrades. “Hold her off Gare.”As Farra felt Gare preparing to overpower her, she pulled her weapons back. Gare, well aware of her thoughts, mirrored her actions, pulling his axe back and shuffling to where she might attempt to dash to. Just as Gare began to pick a side, she simply readied to move toward where he once blocked, forcing his axe to halt her advance. But every move was exposed in advance. Farra swung the left blade, forcing Gare to catch the blade with his hand. His face grimaced as the weapon cut in.

“Stone-skinned bastard.” Farra muttered as the blade came to a halt, lodged within his palm. Gare clenched his hand around the blade, ripping it from the feirin's grasp and tossing it away, but not before she ducked beneath his arm.

Gare attempted to lift his leg to block and kick her, but recoiled when her black blade scorched the air where his leg had been. Farra had broken through. The soldier had a weapon in hand, a tarnished longsword. He pulled it back, keen of Farra's advance, preparing to guard against her strike.

Her blade cut through the longsword with ease, the top half of the metal falling to the ground uselessly. She spun around him, placing her blade to his neck. “You are ill-prepared.” Her voice whispered, eyes fixated on Gare whose hand was seeping with blood.

“This is the same feeling I had when realizing Naia’s betrayal. Helplessness. There is something to take away from this however” She slid the blade, cutting the soldier's throat. The body fell to the ground, atop another. “I must be more careful with who I trust. I take it this only leaves you, Gare. Will you surrender now?”

“After you're dead.”

Farra's eyes sharpened. “You are truly the most despicable. Not only betraying your loyalties, but poisoning the minds of others to your cause. It was in Naia I trusted, and it seems that sense of companionship was just an illusion. Tell me, was this your intention?”

He clenched his right hand, blood seeping forward from it. “”How the hell was I supposed to know you'd go get so close to her? It was my thought she would merely be another pawn to you. Almost worked to our advantage even.”

“For you to think in such an underhanded way, I never thought it would be befitting of you. A traitor through and through is all you are, and you will die being known as such. Your desire to help slaves only hastens their death. It does naught but provide you a sense of validation.”

“And you wish for people to suffer for a cause they can't fathom. Their bloodshed is rewarded with nothing.”

“Selflessness is a virtue, Gare.” Farra shouted, charging the man with blade flourished. Gare’s axe swung downward into the stone, heaving upward and knocking chunks of stone at Farra. However, Farra had already seen this. She dodged to the side before the rocks could strike her, rolling and avoiding her arms being grazed by the stray stone shards. Her black stockings, on the other hand, were slightly torn, revealing small cuts on her legs. Her advance continued, closing in tight to where Gare could no longer simply ravage the ground to hinder her.

He lowered his axe and steadied it, deflecting one of Farra's strikes. A second blow came, not committing force and merely measuring its opponent's reaction. Just as Gare moved the left side of his body forward, Farra reacted promptly, pulling her blade back and threatening to slice at his skin. He pulled back his body to protect himself, the axe swinging sideways and through. Farra ducked effortlessly, striking upward again, and upon meeting the shaft, sliding her blade up the handle so that it cut and burned a part of Gare’s arm.

She stepped back, watching his eyes wince in pain. Where her blade had been, the flesh had cauterized red and black. The flap of skin she had shaved clean, clung to his arm like a bloodied rag. Farra flicked her sword and resumed her assault. Gare dug his into the ground, unleashing another storm of stone from the back-swing, forcing Farra inward against it's blade. She steadied her body, waiting for the inevitable impact of the axe. It crashed into her sword and procured a momentary blinding light from which both weapons halted.

Gare prepared to step back, regaining leverage over his weapon from the flash of light. As soon as the weapons parted, however, a follow-up strike came from the feirin’s blade. She shifted inward, and without hesitation, she brought her blade to what remained of the axe's body. He pulled the weapon away, soaking the blow with his arm rather than losing what remained of his weapon, tough skin cut through by the feirin's personal armament. She backpedaled immediately, avoiding a vain downward strike from the axe and stepping atop its heft.

“Give up, you've lost.”

Gare dropped his axe, clutching a fist with his remaining arm, and lunged at Farra. She stepped out of the way, turning her blade and plowing its cheek into her enemy's chest. The blade's runes burned bright and radiated a scorching flame before fading away. She pulled back her blade, moving past Gare's great frame whilst slicing at exposures in the back of his leg armor, grounding the man who once towered over her.

“I can slice every one of your limbs off if you would prefer, but as evil as I may be to you, I would prefer to avoid having to do that to you.”

Gare fell to his knees, his hand reaching for and clenching his axe as Farra walked behind him, drawing the black steel to his neck.

“I will ask my questions, and you'll come back to the temple with me as you are, as evidence for your treachery.”

Her blade began to press into his neck before easing to let him speak. Gare shoved his weight against the axe, using it as a cane; it was the only reason he could remain upright after Farra sliced his legs.

“I don't have anything to tell you. Only that you've become every bit of what the innocent people in these lands dread.”

“Innocents having nothing to fear. I would not raise my blade to any one of them for they would be sensible individuals. Did you work with Bathalian?”

“I only worked to free innocent people in these lands and try to give them their lives back. This faction corrupts and fosters hatred against the denizens of this land. War has no purpose other than to divide. Look at what the attention and power that's been given to you has done.”

“We help slaves. What else do you know of Bathalian's plans?” Farra's grip on her blade tightened.

“I don't care about Bathalian. I used her just as she used us. The slaves deserve their freedom, not shackles and having the best of them plucked away to become weapons.”

Farra's head sunk, bringing her blade back tighter against his neck. “I’ll crush your desires. I understand now that the morals in our ranks have been corrupted. I will see to it Lord Erres’ soldiers are trained properly. And perhaps you are right. Maybe we are not giving the slaves the opportunities they deserve, and I merely ended up fortunate. I will beseech Lord Erres personally, that we must bring the correct slaves up to be proper soldiers. They would make better warriors than the ones lying dead here,”

In the proceeding moments, Gare would attempt to grip his axe, mustering all his strength to shift from his position and cut down Farra. As much as the feirin desired to seize and bring him back to the temple, she lacked the ability to restrain him while keeping him alive. She saw the result of all his movements before he had begun to move, dragging her blade through his throat and ending the man's life. She lowered her blade from his neck, letting his body rest to the ground with a thump.

“I will realize that desire of yours my own way.” Tears ran down Farra's cheek. She swiped her blade instinctively, trying to dispel the blood from it before sheathing. Her clothing was both bloodied and torn, fitting the blood running down her cheek and arm. But the pain mattered little to her. Her body was considered to be frail, but her heart and mind were by no means the same. She moved to the other side of the quarry, spotting her regalia, ignoring and moving past it to the corpse of the first subordinate she bonded with. She sank to her knees, sobbing in the darkness.

The moon had disappeared from the sky when a tap came to her shoulder. Farra awoke in a haze. She made no effort to turn her body, she could feel her cheeks dry with tears yet her eyes still full of water. Even with a lack of light, the red surrounding her purple pupils and her blood-covered face spoke for her. Another tap came to her shoulder. She raised her head, turning and looking.

“I tried to make it here as fast as possible. What the hell happened Farra?” Teilve tossed the scroll Bathalian had left with Farra aside, wrapping the robe stained in blood over her. She broke out in silent tears again, turning back down and looking over Naia's body, dragging her bloody arm across her face to wipe away the tears. “I had no choice...she was a traitor. The trap was intended to kill me when I had no one to enchant me. Every soldier dead here was my enemy.” Her voice choked as she finished her words, dragging her hand across Naia's cheek. “I had no choice. If she was with them they might have been able to kill me. I didn't expect both her and Gare to betray us.” Farra continued to sob, wrapping her arm under Naia's head and cradling it.

“Gare was a traitor?” Teilve muttered to himself in momentary disbelief. He shook his head. “You know I was hoping Naia could help you see something that you might've lost over the years. That you could remember the innocent part of you struggling to survive in the darkness.” He crouched, lowering an arm over the Farra who continued a silent cry. “I know I'm being pedantic and we’re in a grim business, but I was hoping you could come to see the more nurturing side that helps, even when everything is doom and gloom.”

Teilve pulled himself back to his feet, looking over to two more dead soldiers, visible within the light of the larger dig. “Of course it didn't help she turned out to be a traitor at Gare's urging, that human trash. I suppose things are screwed with this. Bathalian will be free from punishment or scrutiny, and the blame will fall on our ineptitude to identify traitors within our ranks. We'll be sent tumbling backwards a fair bit.” He paused. “Did you really have to kill her though?”

Her silent cry broke into loud sobbing, her voice beginning to choke as she spoke. “I had no choice. If...If we had first met at the start of this, I wouldn't have concerned myself with her. But I think I managed to give her that bit of bravery she needed. She tried to cast a spell and I felt she was dangerous enough. I'm sorry, Teilve.”

“Don't be, it's not your fault.”

Farra picked Naia's chime up, placing it square on her chest, taking both the girl's hands and wrapping them over it. She rose, battered and bloodied, and turned to Teilve with her tearful gaze. “I don't think it was all for naught, we can reorganize, restructure, and become stronger. Raom is dead, and Bathalian is afraid. This is a setback Bathalian will take advantage of. But I know what we must do now to deal with her.”

“You look too beat up to be displaying that kind of confidence. And you still have a mission to complete. I'll communicate to the Lords what happened, then we will set out.”

Farra stood, her mind still hazy after the events when she looked to the mage. “Did everything go okay for you?”

“A bit of trouble, nothing like what happened here. They had it out for you.” He dropped a hand to her head, ruffling her hair before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Lets see if there is anything to eat in the war hall. We can see how that potion works too.” Teilve reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar vial of purple liquid. “I thought to snatch it away from your bag before anyone else did.”

“Oh, I had forgotten about it.” Farra nodded her head, looking back to the resting Naia one last time before stepping forward into the darkness.