“Men have to have heroes, but no man can ever be as big as the need, and so a legend grows around a grain of truth, like a pearl.”

- Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

Before arriving in the village

Calvin looked at the houses spread along the narrow valley. The rocky hillsides were difficult to climb at the best of times, and with palisades cutting off both ends, it seemed highly defensible.

He frowned, ‘If the enemy had not risen inside the village itself.’

Humanoid creatures shambled along the streets as soon as something startled them; however, they were quite quick, if a bit uncoordinated. If all those outside at the moment were undead, that meant that there was only a slim possibility of there being living humans left.

“Wait.” He looked closer. There was a fine column of smoke coming from one of the larger buildings. It seemed to be the inn. “Mh. That complicates things.”

Sarah, the healer that had slowly become the de facto leader of most of the group, walked up to him, crouching instinctively. Her soft features well kept by the magic she wielded, shifted into a frown. “As much as I hate it, I cannot condone us getting lost trying to solve the many issues that line our way. We have to bring our charges to safety and then consult with the academy leadership, perhaps the crown, before we do anything else.”

“Technically, I’m on a prolonged vacation.” Calvin began as Sarah raised her hand, silencing him.

“If it were mere formality, I would concur. But bringing students into a fight with rebelling troops and undead is absolutely irresponsible. And you are an important and able member of the faculty and one of the few with enough combat experience. I cannot let you roam the country righting wrongs when all of them are still in danger.” She motioned at the rest of the group walking along the forest road, barely visible behind bushes and trees.

“...but…!” Before Calvin had the opportunity to plead his case, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t go there. It’s difficult enough for me as it is.”

“So you would leave them to die?” Stepping from behind a large conifer, Mireille looked at them sadly.

Sarah swallowed and looked away, then nodded. “Yes. I am responsible for everyone here. And who is to say that only flesh-fiends are present? What if there is a wight, a specter, a wraith?” She shook her head again for emphasis. “I cannot and will not risk it. Charys have mercy on their souls.”

“And if. Only if mind. There were some students who got...lost...and had to defend themselves…”

“Don’t you dare, young lady!”

Calvin cleared his throat. “They have the most powerful light-user of this generation with them.”

“It’s like saying because I have an excellent weapon, I can straight up go to battle. Without experience, without training, and much more growth, Alea will never get to use her full potential. At the moment, she has mostly that. And she is among the youngest! You cannot suggest she take part in this?”

“Why don’t we ask her?” Mireille clenched her fists.

“Because it’s not her decision to make.” Sarah flatly interjected.

Separating from the group, Alyssa, Alea, and Vivienne walked up to them.

“I heard my name?” Alea asked quietly while trying in vain to keep her coat-tails from brushing through the deeper snow beside the path. Wind shook the trees, and some snow rained from above.

“There are still people alive down there!” Mireille turned and pointed at the thin column of smoke dispersing in the intensifying breeze. “We have to help them!”

Alea looked troubled. “I…”

“Students. Go back to the group we have a long way ahead and will not reach the fortress for two days at least. This decision is not yours to make.” Sarah looked at them unhappily as she said that.

Some of the humanoids converged on a hut near one of the hillsides and began to tear apart the flimsy construction. Faint screams reached up to them from someone still inside.

Mireille looked at her friends. “I will go.”

Sarah groaned. “No. And that is final.”

Alyssa gazed at her friends. “I will not let you go alone.”

“Mh.” Alea nodded and gripped the sleeve of Alyssa’s coat with her hand. Cyrus hissed from the branches of the conifer.

“Sarah…” Calvin grinned helplessly. “...I will supervise them?”

“And what of your other charges?”

“We don’t have time for this...let us go!” Mireille hurried down the slope.

“Wait!” Alyssa looked torn but then her eyes came to rest on Butler One. “Can you take Alea? I fear she would have problems descending the hill otherwise?” The construct nodded, and after a short deliberation, Alea nodded. Butler One grabbed her and began to follow Mireille while Alea held onto its neck.

“You can’t simply ignore…” Sarah began.

“I’ll allow it,” Calvin said.

“Why...you aren’t…!” The healer turned and looked at him incredulously.

“…we sent them into the fucking northern wilds. Fighting is par for the course…” The voices of the two teachers vanished behind them as the group rapidly descended into the valley. Alyssa quietly incanted the featherfall cantrip, trying not to twist or hurt her ankles as she glided across the deep snow.

Amid flurries of snow, the three girls landed before the palisades. One wing of the gates was partly closed. The other stood wide open.

Alyssa focused and saw several undead turn in their direction. “Mireille! Can you?”

“You bet!” Mireille drew her degen and with her other hand stroked along the blade wreathing it in lightning. Jumping forward, she slashed and split the head of the first undead to come in range. Grimacing in disgust, she flicked the half-frozen bits from her blade before backpedaling as one of the others lunged at her. The street, the only street, of the village led between low houses the eaves touching the ground some firewood stacked beneath and at the walls of the house.

Five walking corpses of formerly six were crowding toward the entrance of the village with a few dozen more deeper inside, but it seemed they had already taken notice.

Cyrus hissed and prepared to pounce.

Alea murmured an order, and Butler One bowed, and from inside his forearms, blades unfolded and locked with an audible ‘snick’.

The skin of the corpses was frozen, and ice framed the eyes moving madly in their sockets. Using both arms and legs to lope forward in a graceless shamble, they rushed down the street, over the houses, and in between.

They had moved further along the street as soon as they had finished with the first few, but having reached a small clear space in front of the only two-story house with a sign proclaiming it the ‘Wanderer’s Rest,’ they were faced by nearly two or three dozen of the walking dead.

Alea incanted a lengthy spell as Butler One fought off several rabid corpses.

Alea stumbled back as the light seared her side. Quickly casting the soothing dark mists, she felt the presence of Asandria. ‘Tap into the jewel and impose your control. If you don’t, one of you is inevitably going to be hurt or worse.’

Focusing she felt alignments of glyphs, and runes snap into place as if being pulled from somewhere deep inside of her. The runes shone like a constellation in the darkness of the jewel embedded in her left arm.

‘Focus!’ Asandria hissed, breaking her spellbound gaze.

Focusing the rushing void into the pathways was nearly too easy, and as she did, feeble minds consumed by hate and hunger began to blaze in her vision, and it was simplicity itself to lock onto them, grasp them and keep them in place.

Dark tendrils of power shot from her left hand and connected her to the slavering fleshfiends. A matronly woman, her throat ripped clean to the bone, stopped in her tracks just as she grabbed for Mireille’s back. Cyrus flashed forward, and his stinger shot into the back of the matron's head, piercing bone and exiting through the forehead. Shards of bone unfolded like a morbid flower. Ripping the tail back out, the wyvern gave a stuttering screech that raised goosebumps for the three friends.

The redhead turned and yelped in surprise as she saw the undead standing directly behind her. Jumping to the side, she focused, and lightning shot along her right arm, bursting from her sides to crawl along the walls of a nearby building, and with bone-shaking clap of thunder, a bolt grounded into a group of their assailants, shattering bone and cooking flesh.

Damaged or now completely dead corpses fell or impacted all around as Mireille drew a shaky breath. That had been much too close for comfort. Seeing the horde locked in place, a frown of determination settled on her features, and she prepared another lightning bolt.

Light washed over the open ground, and undead flesh began to sizzle and then burst into flame. Alea was sweating in spite of the cold, with her blindfold darkening at a visible rate. Directing the rays of brilliance, she finally heaved a sigh of relief before flinching as she saw Alyssa huddled beneath an overhang, dark mists gathered around her form.

“Alyssa! Are you hurt?” She stumbled toward them. Mireille meanwhile knocked at the door, exchanging some words with whoever was inside. Snow cascaded from a frozen window as someone forced it open from the inside. With a flash of lightning, Mireille vanished into the building.

Alyssa panted and stood patting snow from her coat as Alea barrelled into her hugging her waist. “Ouch.” The embrace got a bit tighter at that. “Sorry. I have been careless.” Alyssa hesitated, then patted the smaller girl's head before hugging her back. “I should make it a habit to have my mists fully formed before we start fighting.

“You are really fine? Not hurt anywhere?” Alea patted her sides tickling her inadvertently.

“Ah!” With a pained-sounding giggle, Alyssa grabbed her friend's arms. “Please! Don’t do that!”

Butler One swiveled on his hips, a claw flashed, and the head of a fleshfiend fell from the roof of the house they were sheltering under. The porcelain mask dipped as the construct verified the enemy's demise then the automaton resumed its watch.

Shocked back into the situation at hand, Alyssa swallowed. “It’s alright. Let’s be careful. That wasn’t all of them and Mireille is in that inn over there. She might get in trouble.” The skin on her left half was blistered but already slowly healing. A ‘benefit’ of her subsisting on the thick void-miasma hanging over the village.

Nodding wordlessly, Alea stepped back while Cecily, her spider, turned, and crystalline lenses roved over the still burning undead.

“Was that new? They did not burn the last time. Or am I mistaken?” Alyssa raised an eyebrow.

“Mh. Only some more emphasis on the sun.” Alea mumbled.

Mireille stuck her head outside and waved at them. “There are wounded in here. Who wants to do it? You will have to go through the window, I fear. The door is impassable at the moment.”

Alyssa nodded at Alea. “I will guard outside with Butler One.” Cyrus butted her in the side with one of his wings. “Arg! ...and Cyrus!” Grumbling, she rubbed her smarting flank.

Iseret stood beside Mordrak and raised her head toward the sky. It was late afternoon. The sun was already descending behind the mountain range in the west. Soon it would be true night again. Perhaps she would be back by then. She sighed.

“Drink?” The huge wolf-tribe raised flask made of hardened leather. Yellow eyes stared into her own.

She shook her head.

“It might help...and keep you warm.”

“I might need my faculties intact, so I will abstain. Thank you nonetheless.”

“Suit yourself. If it gets worse, go to Sirviel. She will know what to say.”

Iseret looked at him, a bit taken aback. “Why should I?”

“You seem depressed. And I’m not good with words.”

“It’s nothing to be worried about. I simply dislike the thought of not being fast or useful enough to accompany my friend.”

“Mh. Friend…?”

“Yes. Friend.”

“If you say so.”

Fireflies were born from the bushes near the great oak in the center, both magical discharges and common bugs swirling around each other. Sirviel sat beside some of the more seriously wounded, singing in a soft voice as she stroked across the head of a wiry tribeswoman missing her left hand. The injury seemed recent, and blood caked her clothing, but the wound was already close to vanishing. Even scarring was minimal.

“Could she regrow a limb?”

“Mh. She did in the past. But it’s a long and painful process. And she sleeps, sometimes for years. So we cannot completely rely on her for that.”

“I will do another round. See you later.” Iseret nodded at the stoic warrior before walking into the silent forest. Somewhere an owl hooted and took flight. Dislodged snow trickled to the ground.

Mordrak raised his head and sniffed the air growling softly before resuming his watch.

Iseret sat on a thick barren branch and listened to the humming of the wind brushing through the trees. Pulling her coat tightly against her slender form, she shivered. Leaning back, she gazed at the stars. Different from those of her homeland's skies. It had been a favorite of hers when she was young, staring at the little lights spanning all the heavens. The hut had been crowded and stifling, so she had taken to lying on the roof, and even as broken and brittle as it was, it had been more than sufficient to bear her emaciated form.

And then there was a small girl standing beneath the tree looking up at her with lambent green eyes. “Iseret. What are you doing up there?”

Flickering glyphs shone around her hand as the snake woman turned and glided from the branch hitting the snow without sinking into it. Slit-yellow eyes inspected her friend’s torn and cut clothes, and she went on one knee looking closer. “Are you injured?”

“No. Only my confidence and attire. But yes, it went wrong. All of it.” She lowered her head.

Slowly Iseret raised her hands so as not to startle her and hugged Vanessa close. “Don’t leave me behind next time.” She murmured.

The elven girl tensed before slowly relaxing into the embrace.

“Mh. It seemed to be the smartest choice at the time.”

“Smart is not always right.”

Cold hands with the merest hint of scales pressed against her cheeks, causing Vanessa to look up, meeting her friend's eyes.

The moon Ioreth rose above the trees, blurring edges, softening lines, and the shadows of the two of them flowed into each other.