The group of three fled the warehouse, pushing through the flames and out the same door White Hair had fled. Gild thanked whatever was happening to be watching that night that the building had not collapsed on them as they pushed through. Almost as if in answer to his silent prayer, the frame around the door cracked, sending large timbers down in a splash of sparks and blocking the only way in and out.

The fire was now burning through the whole warehouse. The flames leapt into the darkening sky, bright orange and red against the purple of dusk. The heat radiating off the building was scalding, forcing Gild and the others to keep moving away from the buildings.

“Where did that last guy go?” Gild asked, coughing at the thick smoke now billowing out.

“White Hair?” Prisolyna asked, looking around. Gild glanced at her.

“Did you know him?”

“Huh? Oh, no, It's just easier to call him that, helps me keep who I’m hunting in perspective.”

Gild nodded, feeling sick. Delvios had taken more of his mana than he had thought. The Ignus spell was incredibly mana heavy, requiring a constant flow and concentration to keep the flame alive and burning. He felt out of breath and was fairly certain his nose was getting ready to bleed. The fact it hadn't when the main thug, White Hair, had struck him was something of a miracle. His swollen mouth and loose tooth would beg to differ though.

“There!” Turwyn shouted, pointing into the encroaching darkness. Squinting, Gild saw a figure sprinting down the road alongside the river.

“After him! And we need him alive!” Gild said, but Turwyn was already running. Gild shivered at the look of pure fury that the paladin carried.

“Can you track him?” he asked Prisolyna as they started off at a jog after the paladin and fleeing thug. She shrugged.

“Don't you have elf eyes? You can see in the dark, use the light of the moon and stars to see as if it was a cloudless, sunny day?”

“As if,” the elf huffed. “Only Moon Elves can see well in the dark, and even then, it's highly overstated. It's probably closer to a cat than anything else in terms of power.”

“Should we push harder to catch up?” Gild asked, watching Turwyn get increasingly farther ahead as he tore after White Hair.

Prisolyna watched for a moment before saying, “Nah. I think he'll be just fine. What he does once he catches up to White Hair is a different story.”

“He’s a paladin, he wont do anything terrible to the man.”

Gild and Prisolyna shared a quick glance.

“You saw his face right?” she asked.

“Yeah, let's catch up,” Gild said quickly. They both started to run now, pushing as hard as their legs would go. Turwyn continued to outpace them, gaining ground steadily on their fleeing target. Gild fell behind steadily to Prisolyna as well. Damn what those longer legs could do! She glanced back to see him huffing and puffing and raised a single eyebrow.

“Just do it,” he said, his face burning with shame. Prisolyna dropped back to Gild and grabbed him, throwing him on her back. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she looped her arms under his legs, giving him a ride, piggyback style.

“No one hears about this, or I will light you on fire just like I did the men inside, got it?” Gild hissed in the elf’s ear.

Prisolyna stifled a giggle. “You got it.”

He rolled his eyes, adjusting to the bouncing rhythm of her run, and whispered a quick word. A small tear appeared in the air next to him and Tikpuk flew out, his tiny wings beating rapidly to keep him afloat and at their speed. The little demon gave Gild a strange look, opening his mouth.

“Don't say anything,” Gild growled.

“I’m not,” Prisolyna protested.

“I’m talking to my familiar, I summoned him here to help us.”

Prisolyna glanced at the imp, making a quick face, before focusing on trying to keep up with Turwyn. He was still a good distance ahead of them, running along the river and warehouses, with White Hair not much further ahead of him.

“I wasn't gonna say a thing, boss,” Tik said with a sharp smile.

“We found a link to Linith,” Gild said to his demon, ignoring his sardonic tone. “Try to keep an eye on the guy with the white hair that Turwyn is chasing. We can't afford to lose him and the riverside boardwalk is running out quickly. Soon, he’ll either have to turn inland or go for a swim.”

As if he was listening, ahead of them White Hair took a sudden turn to the right, ducking into one of the many alleyways between the large warehouses flanking the river. Turwyn was right after him, disappearing into the darkness.

“Go!” Gild said and Tik took off, flying up and over the building. Prisolyna kept running, coming to the turn Turwyn and their prey had taken, before stopping short.

The alleyway was empty. They couldn't hear any sounds of the gurgling of the river behind them. Prisolyna started walking down the alley, peering down each path or space between buildings that the paladin and White Hair could have gone.

“You can let me down now, I think I can manage this pace.”

The elf dropped Gild a bit unceremoniously, causing him to stumble as he landed. He shot her a quick glare, but she wasn't paying attention.

“Where did they go?”

Gild shrugged, smoothing out his tattered robe. He would need a new one soon, the soot from the fire he had started marked the end of this one.

“What does that mean?” Prisolyna made a mocking shrug.

“It means I don't know.”

“You don't seem very fazed by the fact the man who beat your face in and nearly killed yourself and Turwyn has disappeared.”

“I trust Turwyn. Also, Tik is looking for them. He can fly, making his ability to give chase much better than ours. Why get worried and frustrated trying to pick a path, when one will be chosen for us?”

A sudden howl echoed through the paths around them, though they couldn't tell from which one specifically it came. Gild's stomach flipped a little at the sound.

“Still feel as good as you did?” Prisolyna muttered.

Gild didn't, but he wouldn't admit that to her. He was saved from having to answer by a soft fluttering of leathery wings and Tik’s return.

“Tik! Did you find them? What was that scream?”

“I found them, and I think you better come quick to see this.” The demon flew away, with Gild and Prisolyna exchanging a quick glance before following him. They didn't have to go far, just a block or two further in and to the left, down an alley that looked just like the rest, sandwiched between two massive warehouses full of who knew what.

They rounded a large stack of boxes and found Turwyn and White Hair. The thug was laying on the ground, one arm trapped beneath him and his left leg jutting at an odd angle. His face was covered in a severe scrape, as if he had fallen on it, and he was groaning as Turwyn stood over him, his massive axe in hand and his face devoid of all emotion.

“Turwyn,” Prisolyna breathed, “Did you do that to him?”

“No,” Turwyn answered, his voice flat. “He tripped.”

“On your damned axe you monster of a man!” White Hair said, groaning and trying to shift his weight.

Gild walked toward the prone man, “Tell us what we need to know, and you can get out of here.”

“On this leg? Are you stupid?” he spat, nodding towards Turwyn. “I can recognize the gleam in his eyes. There's no way I’m leaving here alive tonight, no matter what you do or say.”

Gild glanced towards the paladin.

“On my honor as a paladin, I will not kill you if you tell us what we need.” His voice was still oddly flat.

“I don’t doubt that,” White Hair broke into a frantic grin.

“Just tell us who Linith is!” Gild demanded, taking another step towards him and lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “You saw what I did to your buddies, I can burn you right here, right now, and it would cause me no issue at all. You see, unlike my holy friend here…”

Gild leaned down and whispered into White Hair’s ear, “I’m a warlock.”

He stood back up, only to have his triumphant smile wiped away. White Hair was laughing, a body shaking laugh that couldn't be doing anything more than bringing pain to his broken leg and trapped hand. Taking a deep breath, he spat at Gild, narrowly missing the gnome.

“We know what you are, we always have. Why do you think Linith took the soulstone?” White Hair continued to laugh, a maddened sound of someone who was already past death in their own mind. Gild lit a small flame in his hand, showing the thug.

White Hair just grinned even more, “Linith will have me soon.”

With that, he twisted the hand Gild thought to be trapped free. In it was a knife with a purple hilt, the blade slightly curved outward. Before Gild could manage to jump back, or react at all, White Hair drew the knife across his throat. Blood spurted from the wound and White Hair fell back, dead, with the wide, insane grin still splashed across his face.

“The fuck?” Turwyn said.