Tala looked at Be-thric, kneeling in his final moments, acidic power flowing off of him in waves.

She had made her choice: she would seize her freedom or die trying.

It was time to finish this.

He looked towards her, heaving great gasps of air.

The smallest smile, filled with pride and self-satisfaction, pulled at his lips despite his pain. “Well done.” He coughed, grimacing in an obvious attempt to focus. “I don’t have the strength to call for aid. Go for help. There’s still plenty of time.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. Without her enhanced hearing, she’d not have understood him at all. Even so, she walked forward.

Should I just let him die? Her mirrored perspective was sweeping the hold around herself. She was now certain no one was watching, and no one was observing.

-That’s too risky. Someone could arrive at any moment. We can’t leave this to chance.-

Anything I do will carry the signature of my magic. I can’t blow off his head, or stab him with Flow… Dissolution. It’s close enough to acid that it should simply work together to end him.

His smile grew, even as his pain also multiplied. “I’ll be fine,”—he coughed up a wad of blood and spat it to the side—“if you go now.”

Tala could see the Pillar’s armor waging an all-out war against the corrosive magics even as it tried to heal him. But the Pillar of the House of the Acidic Tide had known her magics.

Be-thric was dying, his aura slowly sliding down the color scale to her magesight.

Do I risk his survival? The very act of asking herself that question solidified her choice. No. He dies now.

Be-thric frowned, glancing around in confusion.

Rust. He’s sensing my lethal intent.

But he wasn’t focused on her.

He’s too disoriented, and there’s too many enemies nearby.

This really would be her last, best chance.

It was now or never.

Don’t be aggressive. Move close like I’m going to check on him.

Tala moved towards him, trying to project uncertainty, as he knelt on the ground.

An almost rueful smile pulled at his onyx features, exposing blood-covered, too-white teeth. “At least”—cough—“At least call for help, my Eskau.”

Perfect. That lets me take a deep breath without being suspicious. She slowly nodded, taking in that deep breath.

-You are overthinking this, and taking far, far too long.-

Confusion slowly built across Be-thric’s features.

Come on, come on! She pulled more power into her lungs, faster than she ever had before.

He frowned and opened his mouth, seeming to be about to ask something.

Now or never! She exhaled in a tight stream, dumping dissolution power over his exposed head and down into his armor, using her aura control and willpower to keep the power contained and directed.

His eyes widened even as they began to melt away.

Tala watched the magics mix within the mostly contained space around his flesh. They were close enough to one another to not clash too much.

The balance was instantly tipped, and his death became instantly inevitable.

Good. His death should be too fast for him to process what’s happening, let alone react.

She smiled, his eyes already unable to see her triumph.

His mouth moved, but was too far gone for anything but a garbled grunt to escape.

At that moment, one of her mirrored perspectives picked Thron coming into view. He didn’t see, did he? What is he going to think is happening?

Then, as Be-thric’s body utterly turned to a homogenous gloop, Tala felt a wisp of will-power reach out through her aura.

What? No! The dissolution should have been fast enough. There was no reason he should have been able to react. It had been less than a heartbeat since she’d exhaled.

-He’s a master of mind magic.- Alat’s internal voice was filled with self-recrimination. -If we can think faster than average, imagine what is he capable of.-

The totality of Be-thric’s remaining magical weight, guided by long-honed skill, slammed through her attempts to deny him.

Even as the will-born command extended towards the collar, her hands shot upward, faster than thought, and she strained with all her might, mirroring void from Flow into the armor over her hands.

It did nothing.

Rust.

His will connected with the collar.

As the command connected, two spikes slammed into her neck, and she felt the briefest moment of wrongness even beyond the gaping wounds in her neck.

Then… nothing.

The spikes retracted, and her wounds healed over.

What? I’d thought that—

Agony like nothing she had ever experienced seized her entire body.

The first of her spell-lines were being subsumed, and that was how Tala learned a very interesting thing.

Dasgannach-controlled material was somehow different from the mundane variety.

Why did that matter?

Because different materials required different spell-forms to perform the same function.

Her spell-lines, sweeping outward, away from the point of injection, were becoming wrong, and one by one, they were stuttering and failing. For some reason, the dasgannach seemed to be ignoring her back for the moment, but that was small comfort.

-Tala?- The panic in the alternate interface’s voice struck at Tala’s very core. -Tala! What’s—-

Alat’s voice cut off abruptly.

The inscriptions which formed her foundations were now wrong, the basis of her existence was gone.

Alat ceased.

Alat? Alat! Tala screamed internally, even as she felt more and more of her inscriptions going off-kilter.

Thankfully, she had no idea what they should do now, so she wasn’t firing off random magics; her intent wasn’t in alignment with the workings so they couldn’t activate.

What it did mean was that her magics were being obliterated one by one, her magesight stripped away, her enhancements gone.

There were some lingering remnants, because her natural magics had become more and more imprinted with her particular workings, but it was nothing compared to what she was losing.

With that change, the armor generated by her elk-leathers was too heavy, too stifling, so she dismissed it, feeling the acidic air tingling against her skin.

Blessedly, the magics had dissipated enough that it was uncomfortable rather than damaging.

Focus Tala, focus!

She ground her teeth and focused outward.

When did I fall on the ground?

She was writhing, her hands locked around the collar that had already delivered its deadly load.

A moment later, it clicked open, falling into two halves.

She was free.

Free to die.

A scream finally tore free from her, and she spasmed, the collar halves being tossed aside in the uncontrolled motions.

No. I can’t die like this. That rusting bit of slag is finally dead. There is no way I’m joining him in death. She’d known this was a possibility, but she still refused to accept it.

Come on, Tala, don't panic. You can solve this. What do I know about these things?

First of all, these weren’t normal. They’d been modified to be more lethal, faster acting.

But I don’t know how they’ve been modified. Focus on what I know about dasgannach in general.

Dasgannach were naturally-occuring, animate, slime-like creatures composed solely of a particular material that seemed to have no organic or distinct structures, nor any determinable magics about them, while still being able to move and act.

They would suffocate, surrounded by breathable air.

For iron dasgannach, their victims often feel invigorated until all their iron is claimed, after which it is stripped out of them, the only evidence being the complete lack of iron after the dasgannach has departed.

They supposedly don’t move or alter the material. They only claim it somehow to be removed at a later time.

Well, that was one difference, though her knowledge was sparse, and she could be mistaken. The gold dasgannach had altered the gold somehow.

To be fair, though, the iron within herself seemed unchanged, despite feeling off, and her knowledge on the creatures was anything but complete.

She could still breathe; her blood was still doing its job.

I need to get a better sense of what is happening.

She dove into herself.

Due to the naturally imprinted remnant of her magesight, helping her see within, she was barely able to perceive the two dasgannach slowly subsuming their chosen elements from within her.

The gold one was obviously much faster, as she had far less gold in her body.

The iron one was still focused on her abdominal cavity and the iron on her skin.

Can I use that? Can I get it out before it gets into my blood or starts taking over the iron from the rest of me?

She tried to target her own organs. She needed to be fast, because she needed the healing scripts to still be functional so that she could grow new organs.

They resisted the targeting as if they were entirely iron.

She tried again, imposing her will along with her knowledge that her anatomy was only partly iron.

Two words rang through her head, though they weren’t actually words.

Instead, it was as if a primal intent, utterly without a mind, had lashed back at her, and her consciousness had interpreted it as words.

NO. MINE.

She reeled. It was proof that, while the dasgannach didn’t have a will, they did have impetus, instincts, and drives.

Still, that was more than she’d ever heard of a dasgannach communicating.

It didn’t communicate, you idiot. It just didn’t let you stop it, and your mind interpreted the action as words. She was becoming loopy from the pain of having her magics slowly stripped away from her.

The gold dasgannach seemed to have saved the best for last, and that time had come.

The thing devoured her keystone, and everything went white as she was utterly overcome with unprocessable sensations.

She jerked back to awareness, twitching on the ground, someone propping her up.

Everything was hazy, and for the briefest instant, she forgot what was happening to her.

Alat, what’s going on? There was no reaction. Alat?

Her mind was strangely…vacant.

Her very brain felt like it was malfunctioning; though, she could somehow feel her weak, natural magics, which had been designed to facilitate and augment brain function, bridging the gap of something that should have been there.

Alat? Then, memory crashed through her, and she remembered.

Alat was gone. She was alone.

No, that’s not right.

Tala forced her eyes to focus and found Thron holding her up, propping her on one side.

Why is he doing—

She heaved, vomiting across the ground, thanks to his positioning. The bile joined several other disgorgements that she hadn’t even noticed spewing.

Oh… I hate that so, so much.

“Tali? What happened? There at the end… did you…?”

Tala frowned. There at the end… He saw Be-thric die, but he shouldn’t have seen my part in it… right?

If he had, it would have been the worst timing possible.

She’d been checking for anyone nearby, but her focus had been elsewhere. What if he’d come into view right as she had exhaled?

I have to say something.

She tried to spin a tale, but it was incredibly hard to talk. “He was…dying…”

She swallowed, trying to wet her mouth.

“Tried…couldn’t…He thought…collar.”

Thron cocked an eyebrow. “That’s the story you’re going with? You tried to help him, and his last act was to deactivate the collar? I watched you use void magics on the thing. Did that really work? What is happening to you? Why are you in pain?”

Tala screamed as something pulled, seeming to ooze from her back.

The dwarf must have felt something because he jerked away, letting her fall to the ground as the golden dasgannach peeled itself out of her.

It flopped to the ground, and Tala watched in her mirrored perspective as it steamed power. A moment later, it simply became a lump of inert gold.

It just died? It ate my inscriptions and died?

That was extra insulting.

Thron was wide-eyed. “The collar was triggered, not deactivated or disabled? Tali… Why did Be-thric trigger your collar?”

She grit her teeth against another scream.

Oddly, she wasn’t in pain. If anything, she felt suddenly good overall, like her body was ready to run a caravan route. However, her lack of magical enhancement, and the recent horror of the gold dasgannach’s departure, all colluded to make her want to scream uncontrollably.

She felt wrong.

She retained just enough awareness to feel the thing inside her, slowly claiming the iron within her body. It had saved her extremities for last, but the violation spread inexorably onward.

Thron knelt, now a safe distance away. Too close and the iron dasgannach could jump to him when it finished with her. “What can I do? Do you want me to give you a peaceful end?”

She shook her head vigorously. She was not giving up without a fight.

“As you say, then. I can’t burn it out of you; I don’t have the ability. I don’t think anyone has the ability to remove it, even if we had time to find someone.” He grimaced. “You’re dead, girl. Please, let me end your pain.”

Tala shook her head again.

“If he activated the collar… did you…?” He hesitated. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know…”

Even so, she could see him going over his own memory, parsing it for what had happened.

Not that it was very important to her, all things considered.

The iron in her legs had been claimed, and in her torso and head; it had even claimed all the iron that remained in the paint upon her skin.

It was slithering through her right arm at that moment, the feeling both nothing and nothing she could describe.

She shouldn’t have been able to feel it, but she could.

“Stay.” It hurt to force out that one word. Even that wasn’t right. “Please.”

Thron nodded, clear disgust and fear warring with compassion within the dwarf. “I’ll stay with you until the end.”

Tala closed her eyes and strove with all her being to focus. How much did they change these creatures? Noelle and Master Jevin swore up and down that it was impossible to feel them claiming the material within your body. That’s what made them so pernicious.

She could definitely feel this one.

That really wasn’t important, however. She needed to survive.

As soon as it claims all the iron in my body, it will leave, and we’ll both die.

Tala didn’t want to die.

She’d just killed her tormenter; she wanted to revel in that victory for a decade or two, at least.

It would be so convenient if I could just bond the stupid thing, but it won’t bond. What had Noelle said? It won’t bond even if the star is forged in its preferred material.

Tala froze, stiffening with realization.

The dasgannach was finished with her right arm and beginning to extend its influence down her left arm, its final conquest.

It won’t eat an Archon star. Even if it’s in the right medium.

The influence reached her elbow.

It won’t leave until it’s claimed all of its preferred material.

Desperately, Tala fumbled, feeling like she was trying to thread a needle in the dark while wearing mittens.

Without her keystone, her magic was hard to control.

Without her magesight, it was difficult to tell what was going on.

That didn’t matter. She had to succeed.

The dasgannach’s authority passed her left wrist.

Come on.

Come on.

COME ON!

She threw all that she had at the problem, desperation clawing at the bedrock of long practice, filling in the gaps where she’d always relied on her inscriptions.

Each of her fingers was subsumed, one by one.

There!

With two fingers' worth of iron left, Tala formed the weakest Archon star she could manage, continuing to add power to it as slowly as she could.

The dasgannach finished claiming all the iron in those last two fingers, in her entire body, except that within the Archon star.

Victory!

For a long moment, nothing happened.

She honestly hadn’t expected anything to happen.

So, not victory, just a temporary stalemate… The horrible feeling of slowly being taken over had passed. The damage was done; there was nothing left to lose to the dasgannach’s authority.

Once again, Tala felt the primal, unthinking intent of the thing vibrate through her whole body.

STOP. MINE!

Tala did her best to growl back, No. Mine.

Her entire body began to shudder as the iron within her trembled.

She vomited again, heaving until her abdomen ached and her stomach was long since empty.

MINE! Again, it wasn’t a word, nor did it come from a mind, but it was utterly clear, nonetheless.

Then take it. I offer it to you freely.

There was no response.

Tala began to giggle maniacally. I thought not. You’re welcome to it, whenever you want.

Still, nothing happened.

After what seemed like an eternity, her star ever so slowly gaining in power, she was able to return her focus to the outside world.

I can’t keep this up forever. When the star reaches capacity, it will be ejected from my body, and then I will die.

Still, she’d bought herself at least a few days to find a better solution.

Unfortunately, while the Archon star was taking up a small bit of power flowing through her gate, the majority had nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Thankfully, Kit was there, and so Tala directed all the excess into her sanctum.

She honestly didn’t know what she would do without Kit being there to take in her power. Just venting it outward would be…not ideal.

Still, the problem was solved for the moment, so she slowly opened her eyes.

She focused on her surroundings and stiffened.

Arcanes surrounded her, many holding clearly magical devices pointed her way, and they were discussing something among themselves.

They were the defenders of the hold, and they were likely examining her to determine what was wrong with her.

Or, more likely, how I’m alive.

Lacking her hearing enhancements, she had no way of knowing what they were saying.

Pallaun was frowning as he watched her, but as such, he noticed her move. “She’s awake.”

He stepped forward and gingerly placed a magical band over her head, careful to not touch any part of her.

The band immediately tightened down over her mouth.

“You will not speak until judgment is reached. If you give us cause, you will be immediately executed. You remember, that’s how these things are handled. It’s a formality. We'll get this off of you as soon as we can. We will not bind your hands. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, still having trouble focusing, and Pallaun seemed to have noticed that, if his overwrought explanations were any indication.

“Pull your bloodstars back in your belt.”

She did so, moving them all into their holsters held across the back of her hips.

“Good. You will stand and follow. You will not come within arm’s reach of anyone else, nor will you attempt to touch anyone else. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded. The dasgannach. They can somehow tell that it’s still in me, and they are concerned about it jumping into someone else.

Tala slowly got to her feet, feeling incredibly unsteady.

No one tried to help her.

No one dared come close.

Meallain was kneeling next to Be-thric’s armor, tears pouring down her face, muttering something that Tala had no hope of hearing without enhanced senses.

Thron was watching Tala with evident concern, his eyes occasionally flicking to the now empty armor, which had only recently held Be-thric and the Eskau weeping over it.

I wonder what he’s thinking.

She’d likely find out soon enough. Pallaun had spoken of a judgment. That meant a trial.

Wonderful. I’m going to be put on trial. Well done, not implicating yourself in Be-thric’s death, Tala. Really, really well done.

She hesitated, and it took her a moment to realize that she was awaiting Alat’s response. It would have been a marginally insulting jab, meant to pull her out of her dour mood.

It never came.

As Tala followed the victors of the House of Blood, her eyes started to fill with tears.

Soon, her shoulders were shaking due to great, uncontrollable sobs.

She was alone, utterly and completely alone once again.

Tala, human Mage, captured, enslaved, raised up as Eskau, and slayer of her Pillar, walked alone among members of her former House, utterly oblivious of their attention.

She was dying, despite everything, and she likely wouldn’t be given an opportunity to find a solution.

Even so, all that she could do was mourn the loss of a snarky voice that should have been within her own mind.