“We only need the head,” Cailu said, toeing one of the large bristled teeth protruding from the Chikara’s face.

Naeemah nodded. Her form blurred, and her daggers sliced deftly through the neck joint. She returned to his side and wiped the blades on her thigh.

Cailu lifted the enormous head of the Chikara from the sand and held it up for inspection. Naeemah had carved it at an excellent length—the Defiled was immediately recognizable, and the viscera didn’t touch the ground as he held it. The worst part about it was the putrid scent of its thickened green blood, like that of a beast who’d begun decaying weeks ago, not one alive only moments before.

“T-those rocks,” the white-haired girl squeaked—one of Matt’s—pointing at Kirti’s clenched fist. “What did you do to those girls?”

“What I had to,” Kirti replied smoothly, revealing the shimmering green stone in her hand before rolling it across her knuckles. “Their souls turned the tide of this battle.”

“You were serious?” Matt stared at Cailu, incredulous. “She uses souls for magic?”

Cailu sniffed, eyes narrowing. “What else must I do for you to take me at my word, Matt?” He dropped the enormous head of the Defiled and searched his pack for a rope. “Your constant second-guessing will be your end.”

“Good thing one of us has quick instincts then,” Ravyn said, appearing at Matt’s side before crossing her arms. “We almost lost our tree-hugger thanks to you.”

Your what? She was baiting him. Cailu’s irritation returned as he twisted the rope around his arm. “Should you attempt an asinine tactic like that again without warning, it will be the final Spell you cast.”

“I mean no offense, but have you considered not casually threatening these girls with every other breath you draw?” Tristan approached, frowning as he brushed the sand from his trousers. “Everyone makes mistakes, but Ravyn’s reaction was spot on. She saved Lara’s life.”

Cailu studied them one by one. This wanton duet of Parties that were certain to have lived due to luck rather than skill. Tristan was short and thin, still carrying the bright eyes and soft face of a boy. He looked impossibly young to still be alive in Nyarlea. Then there was Matt, still so very behind in Levels and experience. So unsure of himself. Both relied on their companions far more than taking situations into their own hands. How could they possibly be ready to face what was ahead?

You set them to this task, love. It was Fera’s voice that whispered from the depths of his mind. Have the patience to see them through it.

Hadn’t Fera told him something similar all those years ago? When the king’s council still looked to him for guidance?

Cailu took a deep breath, forcing the distant memories back into their respective depths. It seemed that regardless of world, time, or circumstance, he would always be the one to lead the many.

“I will be more cognizant of my replies.” It was the best he could do. Lara’s Spell should have materialized sooner, and Ravyn should have warned him before casting [Displace]. If Kirti or Naeemah had failed him in such a way, they understood it would have meant their permanent removal from his Party.

“Thank y—” Tristan began.

“You have to let them go! Now!” The white-haired girl’s voice pitched high, eclipsing their conversation. “They must find peace with Saoirse.”

Matt turned, shook his head, and jogged to where his [Acolyte] stood arguing with Kirti.

“Foolish girl. These are not for you to command,” Kirti growled, the stone vanishing from her hand.

“Cannoli. Hey, come on.” Matt rested a consoling hand on her arm.

Cannoli tore it away. “No! Matt, you don’t understand. A catgirl’s soul belongs only to Saoirse. What this woman does, it’s…it’s—” she paused, hands trembling.

Evil, Cailu thought. Kirti’s presence unnerved him. Her fearsome Spells and dangerous methods would have seen her burned at the stake in his previous world. She utilized souls to her advantage—both when she’d locked them within stones or perceived them inside their living shells. More than once, he wondered how Nyarlea had allowed a [Witch Doctor] to continue her practice while [Necromancer]s were hunted for sport.

Kirti studied Cannoli’s face, that creeping, knowing smile twitching at the corners of her lips. She read the girl like a book. “Do you play at purity like your mother, child?” She reached forward and cupped the [Acolyte]’s chin. “I understand my truth. You’ve a long journey ahead of you.”

Tears escaped the corners of Cannoli’s eyes. “Y-You… I-I—”

Ravyn shouldered Matt aside before slapping Kirti’s arm away. Her fingertips glowed with flames. “Don’t you touch her again, bitch.”

“Kirti,” Cailu called before the [Witch Doctor] could say anything else.

Kirti’s smile only widened. She shrugged and rejoined Cailu, taking the opposite side of the Chikara’s head. “You wished to tie this to the gigashank, did you not?”

A cold shiver slid down Cailu’s spine. He hadn’t said his intentions aloud. Kirti’s haunting smile never wavered, and the smell of death permeated the air.

He wondered if the Chikara alone was emitting that scent.

The ride to Rājadhānī was silent, save for the gigashank’s scaled, heavy footsteps and the constant scraping of the Chikara’s head dragging along the back of Agni’s mount. When they arrived, he had two cards to play: the trophy and Naeemah. From Matt and Tristan’s regaling of their experience, the Ejderha had forgotten their place in the island’s design.

And, though it came as no surprise, so had Magni. Cailu believed it would take a show of power to remind them. Matt and Tristan had made it clear that violence would not curry favor with either of their Parties, so his first two attempts would be passive.

As the city’s walls came into view, Cailu glanced over his shoulder at Naeemah. While her mask shielded the lower half of her face, the intense longing in her eyes was unmistakable. For years, she’d patiently waited to return home. Now that they were so close, a piece of him envied her for it. What he wouldn’t give to see Fera’s face and hear Heiki’s laughter just one more time…

“So, erm, where do you want this thing?” Agni called, gesturing to the Chikara head.

They had neared the city gates much faster than Cailu had expected. “Stop near the city, and I will carry it,” he replied. “You need only take care of your Encroachers.”

“Yessir.” Agni saluted with a grin. “I’ll be at the Tipsy Turtle when you need me.”

Don’t spend all of your coin on drink, woman. Cailu thought bitterly. They still needed rations and supplies to return to Kandota. “Be mindful that my payment was for the entire trip.”

“Understood, captain. Not like they have much to drink here, anyway.” Agni hopped off her gigashank and motioned for the others to dismount. “Mostly keep to m’self.”

“That is for the best,” Naeemah murmured. She stepped away from the enormous reptile, then paused and examined the walls. “What has Magni done?”

“He’s been busy, it seems,” Kirti added, moving to stand beside her. “What do you think awaits us inside, Nae?”

Naeemah blinked, and for a moment, Cailu was certain that her blade would meet Kirti’s heart. Instead, she pulled the mask away from her face and murmured, “[Civilian Mode].”

The [Assassin]’s garb slid away, replaced by Naeemah’s seldom-worn casual clothing. While she almost always kept her hair pulled back from her face, it now streamed down her back in a river of black. A deep green silk skirt perched high on her waist, flowing outward until the hem reached the sand. The long-sleeved top of the same color cut short, bearing a few inches of her dark skin between its edge and the beginning of the skirt. Over her left shoulder rested a wide, translucent sash embroidered with intricate designs in golden thread. A heavy necklace, dangling earrings, and a thin gold chain that swept across her forehead completed the ensemble.

Naeemah looked capable, regal, beautiful. Magni had underestimated her once, and Cailu would not be so quick to stay her hand this time if she found him unworthy.

Zahra, the [Myrmidon] from Tristan’s party, moved to stand before Naeemah. She crossed her chest with one arm, touching her first to her shoulder, and bowed at the waist. “I prayed it was you. My lady. It’s an honor to welcome you home.”

Naeemah lightly touched Zahra’s shoulder and turned to look at Cailu. “Remember your promise.”

“You have my sword, Naeemah.”

The others gathered quietly around them, looking between Cailu, Naeemah, and the reverent Zahra.

Naeemah took one final breath, then nodded. “May the wind carry our desires.”