The Wyldhounds sniffed the air and circled around the craters. The Wielder of Divine Flames stared thoughtfully at the glassed sand. The edges of the crater actually had obsidian. She crouched down next to it and touched the volcanic glass with her finger. She sliced her fingertip open, running it across the edge, and bluish blood seeped out, letting a single drop fall to the sand before the wound closed by itself.

The village was deserted, but that was only to be expected. It was in an oasis after all. The Wyldhounds, a variation of the Wanderer class of Wyldlings, were quadrupedal and mostly canine in shape. But where mundane dogs had eyes, the Wyldhounds didn’t. Not that the creatures couldn’t see, just that it wasn’t through natural light. Each one of them was roughly as tall as her chest, had longer and muscular forelimbs compared to their hindlegs, had narrow waists and long whip-like tails. Their snouts dominated their heads, and their noses could detect more than mundane smells.

The creatures were not naturally made, in so far as a Chaos dweller could be termed natural. They were specialized to the point of having difficulty living on their own, hence, only Chaos Courts could make use of them. Their ascension from swarmlings was a carefully curated process and was more trouble than it was worth, sometimes. Still, the pack managed to find the trail of their quarry with little more than a vague description. That’s right, no scent sample was needed, merely a few descriptions and naming the circumstances and scenarios. With their quarry being so distinct, it was almost impossible to fail.

“I’m curious where this came from.” Wielder muttered to the Weaver of the Warp and Weft of the World. The other Chaos viscount just shrugged.

“How long ago?” he asked instead.

The Wyldhounds circled around the oasis and lingered in one of the dwellings. Wielder didn’t know, of course, but she supposed less than a week ago. When she said as much, Weaver grunted.

“We’re close, I believe, no more than two or three days on the trail,” he had his eyes closed and his hand spread out, as he spun threads of his Chaos towards the ground. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to do though.

Instead, she was chomping at the bit. This was it. Her chance to earn a new title. With the amulets provided by the Duke, she would have enough stamina to fight. Her quarry was tough and difficult to put down without a protracted battle. She had better chances outside of the plane, of course, but one must follow one’s quarry where it goes. It had been Seasons since she’d last fought the young Ancient and she looked forward to experiencing that one’s growth.

Stories and reports from their allies painted the Golden Terror in a new light, far different from the woman Wielder had fought in the shadow of the Zarek Mountains. Now, they were fated to clash again, on the other side of the prodigious heights.

“Quite eager, aren’t we?” Weaver said. “Be careful. You may have grown in power, but so has she.”

“All the better to test my might with,” Wielder chuckled. “The hounds have caught the trail. Let us continue.”

“Of course.”

Behind Wielder and Weaver, aside from the pack of Wyldhounds, was a group of nameless. Fodder warriors produced by the Telurian. She didn’t really approve. Her earlier work could have borne better fruit. The behemoths of the Chaos Sea were plentiful, much stronger and easier to control than this lot. She had dominion over half of the pack, two dozen nameless, while Weaver had the other half. They were bound to each other with chains wrought from Chaos, and through the bond, Wielder could feel their emotions, their thoughts. The link went both ways though, and she sometimes found herself dreaming of things she’d never bothered to look at.

They headed to the southeast. The sands formed tall dunes, steep on one side, usually the northern one, and had a gentler slope on the opposite. The Wyldhounds crested dune after dune, running as fast as they could. None of them needed rest, though they did stop at dusk.

Nearly as one, all of them took their amulets of the lidless eye and placed them on their lips. Wielder manipulated the round amulet with her lips and tongue such that it was held upright by her lips. She drew a breath through her mouth, and felt the plane’s ambient Chaos, normally so hostile to Chaos dwellers, grew tame. The altered ambient Chaos refilled her Chaos well and a feeling of fullness, normally so foreign when within a plane, suffused her very being.

Satisfied, she dropped the amulet to her palm and tucked it within her belt. The process took less than half an hour to do, although the Wyldhounds struggled with manipulating their amulets.

Glory to the Watcher.

They resumed their hurried march right after. The Treacherous Moon was well on its way to Full, which cast plenty of light. Not that Wielder had any trouble with the darkness since her hair was literally a flame. The moon’s current phase also strengthened Chaos in the planes, though not to the extent of creating Chaos storms.

At dawn, they repeated the ritual, taking a bit more time as the Burning Sun’s morning light was incredibly unpleasant. The entire day they travelled without stopping. The desert terrain changed from sandy dunes to barren rocks and earth. Hills and ridges were aplenty, with jagged edges and steep cliffs.

The trail the hounds followed kept to the valleys. Now, the Wielder could see wagon tracks, though only on softer ground. On the third day, at noon, she paused as she felt a strange premonition. She kept her eyes sweeping, searching for what screamed at her instincts, but there was nothing. Shrugging, she kept her thoughts to herself though she noticed Weaver looked somewhat irritable, too.

On the fourth day, mid-morning, the group crossed a wide valley with steep cliffs on the west and east. The trail went through it and was fresher than ever.

A bright light in front caught her attention and she looked forward, then up. What was that? Golden light? No…

Fear. A paralyzing shock ran through Wielder’s body as she stared for a timeless moment at the glowing orb of light hovering several hundred paces from them.

Fear. The ambient Chaos swirled in a vortex powerful enough to distort the air. Even if she couldn’t see Chaos, she would have seen the air glimmering with potent and lethal energies. A rod…no, a spear of golden light materialised beside the orb, and it was only now that she could see past the obstructing light, and of course, it was her quarry. And for a slight moment, she wondered if she was really the hunter or the foolish prey to wander into a predator’s den.

Thoughts ground to a halt as she saw that the Weaver and the nameless were just staring in fascination. What were the fools doing? What was she doing?

“Scatter!” she screamed as her prey, the young Ancient, made to throw the spear at them.

She suited action to words as she dug her heels into the sand, forced her flames to focus on the soles of her feet, and blasted away.

Wheeeeee!

Btommm!

A wave of heat and Radiant energy washed over Wielder’s Protective Field. The edges distorted as the corrosive Radiance melted through her Chaos, and a moment later, droplets of it stung her skin as it melted through her armour.

The spear hadn’t even landed anywhere near her, and a glance back showed exactly where it hit. Right smack in the middle of the nameless squads. Three of them had been outright obliterated, while a dozen more were burnt. Their innate link allowed them to share their wounds with each other, as well as their life forces, but somehow, the spear had bypassed a part of the process. The other dozen showed burn marks on their skin, but none of their clothes.

Hastily, Wielder sought to link up with her troops, and she felt her energies seep into the link. Her vitality was much greater than the nameless, who were barely a step above Chevaliers, but that wasn’t enough. She summoned her divine flames, white against the gold, and allowed it to spread through the link. Pinpricks of white light shown from the burns, and the skin regenerated. More importantly, her flames burnt away the remnant Radiant energy.

All that in the blink of an eye, but it was too soon to relax.

Arrows fell like rain, from the top of the cliff. Wielder saw a group of warriors, though their Chaos was thin to the point of non-existence. A few bright points of light were there though, to safeguard, yet at the same time, to attack. Twisted chains of lightning fell amongst the nameless, though they weren’t enough to kill.

“Watch out!” Weaver yelled at the Golden Terror crashed towards them. Miniature swords spun around the girl, even as her hands held the artefact greatsword that made Wielder quiver in instinctive fear.

White flames blossomed from her hands and formed into her weapon, a long-handled maul, made of white metal, with a head the size of her fist. The handle was long enough to use two-handed, but was balanced well enough to use with one hand should the need arise. Wielder’s flames grew in volume, rising far above her head, before condensing around her body and weapon.

She judged the Ancient’s angle of descent and jumped out of the way. The glowing sword shards preempted the attack, and she had to deflect one, two, and then three shards as they careened towards her torso. The force of the blow knocked her to the side, and with a gasp of surprise, saw that her foe’s trajectory had shifted to land right within perfect striking distance.

And here she was, overbalanced and staggering. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself to be struck, only for her to move sideways by a couple of paces.

The ground exploded as the greatsword struck it. More sword shards attacked Wielder, and at the same time, she saw the other shards fly towards Weaver, who was pale and sweating from the effort of moving her away.

The man conjured his rapier and parried the shards, even as his footwork sent him flying in an arc.

Wielder barely had time to pay him any mind as the greatsword sabbed towards her. She met the blow with one of her own, and when the weapons collided, both of them were pushed back. Her feet dug into the soft rock, and she left a couple of furrows five paces long. The other girl floated back a bit farther, letting the force of Wielder’s blow carry her away. At the same time, the sword shards spun and struck.

“Burn you!” she yelled as the shards’ attack forced her to overreach again.

A second set of three attacked her on the opposite side, and then a third from above. One-third of each set struck at her weapon, another third at her feet, and the last honed straight towards her heart. They didn’t all come at the same time, but at a staggered rhythm that made defending all that much harder. By the third pass of the attack cycle, Wielder was sweating buckets and her face was set in a rictus snarl. Her robes were torn and blue blood seeped out of dozens of cuts. Her flames protected her from the heat, otherwise, those wounds would have been cauterised.

She took bleeding over burns, as the former was much easier to heal than the latter. Part of her divine flames worked under her skin, seeking to knit broken flesh back together. Another flame drew in ambient Chaos, purified and aspected it for her use to fuel her techniques. Thankfully, all of that happened without conscious thought as she barely had enough presence of mind to breathe.

How did this happen? Why was the young Ancient so powerful? It had just been a Season!

“You…!” she managed to growl.

The girl paused in her assault, tilted her head and frowned.

“Why are you so weak, all of a sudden?”

For a long moment, the Wielder of Divine Flame felt cold. Then anger burned her insides as she howled and unleashed her core fire.