Round One, Bracket A: Sasurai vs. Destined Intervention

[Christoph]

Congratulations for making it into the Tournament of Champions. Both teams receive two Fate Points for making it this far! Posting can begin at 1 PM EST on the 7th and the battle closes at 11:59 PM EST on January 28th. Good luck to both teams!

Arenas were arranged at random, and your prompt is as follows:

You will battle on a series of small-scale naval ships within a massive flooded colosseum. The crowds are roaring for blood.

[Wings of Endymion]

She opened her eyes to the baying of the crowd, her name chanted repeatedly upon the whispers of the light wind. The salty smell of the sea stung her nose, but beneath it lay something altogether more pungent. Anticipation, Ingwe would have called it. Fear, Thomas would have said.

Thoughts of her two closest friends from her Academy days helped to settle her nerves. Yuka gripped the curved staff tightly to her chest, savouring the motion of her little ship as it bobbed gently from side to side. The young woman maintained her balance lightly, holding herself with both poise and grace. She closed her eyes once more, reaching deep inside to that reservoir of peace and calm that would be essential for unleashing her powers.

What was the mantra that Ingwe had always repeated to himself again?

Focus… and control…

She inhaled deeply one last time, holding the breath within her lungs as if to cleanse them of their impurity. The breeze ruffled the folds of her loose tunic, streaming through her hair and sending her deep blue cloak billowing out behind her. When at last her exhalation came, she opened her eyes again, and the otherworldly scene greeted her anew.

Almost like they recreated Chi Bi in a box, she thought to herself as she looked around once more. The massive granite walls of the colosseum loomed high and forbidding around her, dwarfing the small boats clustered together like a makeshift landmass upon the flooded floor within. It was testament to the sheer scale of the arena that there was actually a wind to blow within. The ships themselves were of indeterminate style and origin to her eyes, certainly not of overwhelmingly Nipponese design. Simply built, with planked open decks, single masts and low sides, their prows jutting forth menacingly so as to literally cut through the waves they rode. Sails furled and oars shipped, for the moment the assembled craft rested benign and tranquil, but Yuka knew just about enough of sea journeys to realise how quickly this could change.

Her nameless, faceless contact had told her that the only way free of this dimensional pocket was to play the game by their rules. To go back, you must go forward, they had said. She had been suspicious, wary, as she might well be. But nothing she had seen or heard had contradicted their assurances of safety and well-being.

At least, not yet.

The caveat had been the thinly veiled promise of power. Through us, you will discover within you strength that you have never experienced before, they had said. And if it was the one thing she needed to escape the vengeful clutches of her former family, it was strength. Were their words too good to be true?

Probably…

And yet here she found herself, awaiting the appearance of her opponents in this grand amphitheatre, readying for battle. The Seven Tenets of Spellcasting raced through her mind, along with a host of other tips and tricks she had picked up from her student days. She even went over, one by one, the handful of times she had actually cast her spells in anger, reminding herself of the feel of the arcane under her command such that she would not be caught off guard again. Her fingers tightened upon the smooth grain of her staff, assured and determined.

She breathed deeply again, once more purging her slender frame of nerves and attempting to block out the off-putting noise of the crowd. After all, they were irrelevant to what was to come, were they not? She turned her gaze to the skies, clear if lightly sprinkled with harmless cloud. The high walls of the colosseum made them seem so far away… so out of reach.

At least I’m not alone, was the comforting thought that came to mind, and with that Yuka turned to the neighbouring ship and gave her new wyrmfolk companion an affable wave. She’d become fast friends with Lask after the awkwardness of their initial encounter, to the point where when she’d been told that she needed a companion for the tournament, the choice had been obvious. Thankfully, he had not declined. For better or for worse, they were now in this together.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

The fact they’d flooded an entire coliseum for this match and managed to make the water stay in its place was a feat of great ingenuity. The impressive walls too, were pretty damn fantastic. The boats? So-so, but easy to create once destroyed by the look of things. They held his weight, and against the baying of the crowd – a lot of them crying out for Yuka and probably not to cheer her on, by the sound of some of those comments – Lask frowned worriedly at the world in general.

All the grandeur and pomp of this battle and this ceremony was lost on him. This reminded him of home, and the only thing he needed right now was his mother screaming at him to stop playing with the man-children and come inside now and help her make dinner.

Nostalgia aside, he ran his talons thoughtfully across his chin-growths, running through the checklist in his mind again - everything was secure on his person? Check. weapons checked for any stresses that might shatter? Check. He arched his back, twisted this way and that, and looped his tail over itself as the little boat bobbed beneath his curious contortions.

Yep. Everything sitting nicely. Check.

Question is, who are we up against? Didn’t catch their names… There hadn’t been enough time to check out the statistics of everyone so…

Oh. She was waving at him. He waved back. Poor thing looked nervous. Why? It was just a fight right? Right? Although this had been the idea of a wizard, and most of his experiences with wizards tended to be rather…well…troublesome.

Never mind. Yuka will do her best. I in turn will do whatever I can, against whatever it is we’re facing. With that in mind he unsheathed his sword and squatted on the rolling deck with his tail in a neat circle around him, chin in hand to wait and body poised to spring.

[Nieve.Roja]

Wow. Ships. Not exactly an orthodox setting, now is it?

The roaring of the crowd almost seemed synched with the motion of the ship on the waves. This wasn't exactly what you'd call Emilio's natural environment. He could remember stories of great-grandfather De la Costa being a sailor or something, but nothing of that heritage had been passed on to him. A deck was simply moving ground to him, nothing more.

Still, Emilio enjoyed this start. Seeing as he's usually greeted by a gunbarrel in his face, an actual cheering crowd is a nice change in scenery. He managed to let off a smile, somewhat oblivious to the fact that they might not be cheering for him. Quickly scanning the area surrounding him, he noticed a lack of blue knight on his ship. His ship. It had a nice ring. Of course, Emilio had found out that archons are usually little more than floating shiny orbs, but seeing as they were about to do battle, it would be nice to actually have a tangible companion. After all, he would need more than just mental support.

As he looked around the colosseum, he felt a slight thirst, a request from his throat to be saturated with the nectar of the gods, known to most as beer. The shouting and yelling of the crowd were somewhat similar to the usual customers in the average tavern, just louder. His encounter with Archon in the tavern had been a while ago now, and a few... strange... events had taken place since then, but that was in fact the last beer he had consumed. Strangely enough, his concern wasn't if he would ever have another drink at a bar, but when. He was confident, almost certain, he would make it out of here. Either without any change or traveling the 'new path' Archon ahd promised him, but he would live to see the days after this tournament, and possibly even grow old and frail. The thought made him chuckle. For the moment, however, his attention was directed elsewhere.

On another one of the ships, two figures were standing, observing their surroundings much like he was doing moments before. He wasn't sure if they had seen him, but he could see them, and that was what mattered. A girl holding some kind of staff, definitely not unattractive, and a... words escaped him, not by shock, but by awe of sorts. The best he could do to describe him was a dragon, but not your classical, children's-story dragon. This one almost looked like it was human. Special indeed. Remembering he was supposed to beat them, he wondered what was keeping Archon. The possibility that he was already present had not escaped him, but tiny flying balls are usually hard to spot, and the restless crowd was not helping.

Slowly, he donned his gloves, whispering to himself. "Come on, come on, Archon, I wanna get started..."

[SoulBeaver]

Out of all ships that sat adrift in this flooded arena, Archon's ship seemed the most egregious. Better said, it should have been, but not even crowd seemed to notice such a diminutive boat. Even more to the point, his 'ship' did not deserve the prestigious title of 'ship'. The rickety boat did not even possess a rower!

Archon kept reflecting back to the events that lead up to this- it only happened because the crew had a problem with his incessant questioning about whether or not their lustful night-lives kept them from becoming better men! Or whether constant mention of booty as a double entendre simply disguised the fact that they were old, wasted men. Such sinners!

It came as a great relief to both Archon and the rest of the ship's crew that they did not have to work together at all. They just had to find a valid excuse for him not needing a large ship and crew. The answer to which both Archon and the captain found in his inherent ability to fly. Perhaps the judge in charge found an even greater relief in the fact that he ruled correctly and none of the sailors showed him the harshness of the sea with a few good punches to the face. Actually, he might have feared the mad ravings of Archon a little more than punches.

In any case, both Archon and the captain eventually agreed that even a beaten boat still required manpower. The point at which someone from the crew agreed to work willingly for Archon should have given him enough reason for doubt, but his hope for mankind betrayed his good senses. Much less, then, should it have surprised him when a note latched between two paddles in his boat read, “Sorry, I forgot my whore at the inn.” Such sinners!

At least the ability of flight remained as loyal as ever, and off over the big blue he flew. Two things remained left to be done before he could meet up with Emilio to devise a fool- and waterproof strategy. However, Emilio should have heard the reassuring, “I'll be there soon.” comment breezing through his mind with an emphasis put on soon. First, he had to verify the dreaded wickedness of his two opponents. It would utterly disgrace Archon if he fought and perhaps killed two followers of holy design as well as give his deity a bad reputation and the crowd even more reason to enjoy violence rather than peaceful interaction with one another.

The first boat, the simplest of the three, carried a complacent crew and a contemplative woman. Archon took an extremely great risk by traveling there in his purest form since these people did, unfortunately, count as the most dire of enemies. Therefore, he hovered just outside of the ship near the lady. Her beauty did not strike him- he found it impossible. Too many things had corrupted this sense, and he suddenly felt the burden of a world heaved onto him. Not quite corporeal, but more a realization that he irreversibly lost certain pieces of his soul to the fight against the very thing that kept robbing these pieces from him. Would she attempt to do the same?

Tentatively, Archon edged closer to the edge of the ship and placidly introduced himself through flashes behind her eyes, “Greetings, young female. Please, do not feel surprised by my voice as I also hope that I am not too disturbing of your thoughts.”

Indecisiveness grabbed him as he felt that his sky-blue glow would easily be spotted, but he could not determine where to run to at this point in time. Instead, he hastened his words considerably, “Before I fight you, I must know this: Do you bring darkness near the ever-burning light? Do you smash all that is good in effigy, in reality, or otherwise? Do you wish me harm for the sake of harm, or why? Understand that I will have difficulty fighting you if you bear goodness in your heart. Also know that I will never again speak to you like this again if you advocate that which I seek to repel and enlighten.”

[Wings of Endymion]

She paused as the voice infiltrated her mind, her reaction one of surprise and concern but not complete shock. After all, such power lay within the scope of her abilities as well. The young woman’s magically attuned senses were quick to locate the source of the power, a bluish glow that hovered just off the port bow.

So at least one of our opponents is a spellcaster, Yuka noted to herself, careful not to phrase her thoughts in such a way that the haze could detect them. As her senses automatically probed the light, she came to another conclusion. Not to mention non-humanoid… this could get tricky.

She listened as the haze queried her, not making any sudden movements that would possibly damage their fragile rapport. In return, she extended her conscious such that she was blindingly aware of every fraction of her immediate surroundings, from the waft of a loose strand of dark hair at the whim of the breeze, to the rhythmic tap of Lask’s tail upon the wooden deck of his craft as he awaited his foes. It went without saying that she suspected a trap.

When the being finished speaking, Yuka allowed a moment of pause, as if thinking of a suitable response.

“Hi,” she began, again choosing her words carefully. The young woman disliked riddles, questions phrased awkwardly purely for the sake of being awkward. She could never understand why the elders of her profession seemed always to talk in such a circumspect manner.

The general gist was whether or not she was evil, right? In which case…

“I wish you no harm, sir,” she continued, her voice gentle and her features relaxed and friendly. It was only a moment, however, before they both hardened. “But to go forward, I must fight you. So please forgive me if I do not share your hesitation.”

She had resigned herself to her fate long ago. Yuka was not fond of battle, but she did what she had to do to survive, and to give herself a better chance of survival in the long run. She needed the power that the Cabal offered.

“… I wish you well,” she concluded, before dismissing the telepathic connection with a small hand gesture, closing her mind off to further intrusion.

A deep breath, wondering if she had done the right thing. Briefly she toyed with the idea of a war of words rather than one of swords… and then realised that the crowd would probably not take kindly to such an anticlimax. Not to mention she was unsure of how the Cabal would react to such unorthodox tactics. Acceptance clouded her features, and she concentrated on the task at hand.

Lask, Yuka whispered into her companion’s mind, indicating faintly with a pulse of thought the orb that floated alongside her ship. She had done this before, so hopefully the wyrmfolk warrior would not mind the sudden infringement. Please stay close to me, and keep an eye on the light. I’m going to try something… big.

She gave him the telepathic equivalent of a smile, and then bowed to her other opponent, riding his ship on the opposite side of the arena. It was her equivalent of a starting gong or a champion’s challenge, a signal for commencement of hostilities.

Yuka Kanamai released her staff such that it floated before her in midair, between her open palms. Slowly she began to meld the mana around her, shaping it to her needs in one of the most potent spells she knew. Never show your hand at the beginning of a battle, the book of common sense stated, but she was not likely to get a better chance at this.

Power coalesced between her hands, and she began to chant.

[Schrodinger's Nirvana]

Well. This was new. Lask stared thoughtfully at the two ahead of him – well, one, was that blue-thingie a living thing or just a collection of lights? He’d never seen anything like that before – but the human covered in chains with the guns was something else entirely.

He smiled. It wasn’t an evil smile, or a superior smile, or anything of the like – it was just a humorous grin. Okay, cloud of light could be hard to work with and put down, but that was possibly Yuka-

I smell ozone. Magic being used. Not hers. It’s talking to her? That would mean it’s going to fight with Mister Debonair over there… His thoughts trailed off. His grin became wider. Said human was a hit with the ladies if those girls weaving their way down to the front of the seats and standing in the aisles were anything to go by.

Lask? He snorted softly, amused at the tentativeness in her tone. She was going to have to harden up if she was to be taken seriously as a spell-caster. He was a minion for crying out loud! Privacy was not something that could be afforded! Knowing she couldn’t hear him at all, he merely listened. Please stay close to me, and keep an eye on the light. I’m going to try something…big.

“Brilliant!” He announced to the world, and stood up as the gong sounded with a widening grin of this is going to be so damn fun. The first attack was a smoke-bomb, hurled in the direction of Emilio to throw off the first few shots, (because, quite frankly, the poor guy was the only one with a physical body right now on the team) which was followed by a running leap off his boat to the closest to him. A moving target was harder to hit – something Lask had learned the hard way – and harder still when sight was obscured.

Well, if the little bomb worked. But he was optimistic he’d get to Yuka in time regardless.

The little construction dipped and swayed in his landing, but years of work on the docks and ships had honed his sea-legs to a work of art. It took a moment for him to leap again and make his way towards Yuka as she began to chant. He switched hands with the sword to shield himself as he moved from any oncoming projectiles – even from the crowd come to think of it, hoping his landing wouldn’t disturb her when he finally reached Yuka’s side-

Don’t think about that now. Protect her. That’s your job, fool. The voice and wording sounded eerily like his travelling partner, but he knew it was his training talking.

He landed, nostrils flaring as he spun to face their opponents, ears straining for that little upward note all magic-users seemed to do just as their spell was let off, his massive body blocking her slight frame from view. Hopefully not her aim however. Or this fight was going to be short, bloody and rather pathetic.

Eep.

[Nieve.Roja]

And this was the reason Emilio preferred working by himself.

A breeze seemed to rush through his mind, whispers on the wind, a message left in his mind. The moment of serenity it carried found itself replaced with anger as he understood the message Archon had sent him.

"Soon? Soon?! Soon isn't soon enough! We're in a fight here, dammit! Start fighting!", he shouted to nobody in particular. That small floating piece of crap was probably out there hitting on that wizard girl. Celibacy, my ass...

Speaking about the wizard girl, she was in the process of doing something especially odd. Her staff levitated between her hands. Now, of course, Emilio isn't a textbook expert on sorcery and magic, but when a girl has a rod hovering between her palms, she's either doing a very good job, or she's about to do some serious damage. Reluctantly, he took one of his pistols in his left hand, the leather of his glove protecting his hand from the M1911A1's cold steel. He hesitated slightly as he aligned the gun; though this was still a tournament, and his objective was still to eliminate both opponents, a cold-blooded decision like this remained a difficult task for him. As much as he might have argued with himself, though, the actions of the other team member soon required all of his attention.

This is, again, a perfect example of why being outnumbered is a bitch like that.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and it was fast. Before he managed to realign himself, the other half of Team Sasurai, the one Emilio previously recognized as the dragon-lad, had already landed on one of the little boats. What's more, he had thrown something at him. His eyes widened as he realized it was a grenade just a tad too late; it exploded in mid-air, spreading a thick cloud of smoke, effectively eliminating any line of sight he had. Emilio cursed as he covered his mouth and closed his eyes, blindly stumbling around, trying to find a way out of the smoke. From what he recalled moments before, the starboard side was a few feet in front of him. Memories of his more active tavern-going nights surfaced as he stretched his other arm out, trying to find something to hold on to. Soon enough, he heard the clang of the steel from his handgun contact the starboard railing. Now it was just a case of following it out.

As he moved forward, the sting in his lungs caused by the smoky air subsided, and he quickly scanned around for his target. Apparently it was a fast little bugger; he had already retreated and was now standing in front of the sorceress, as if trying to protect her. Even now, he still didn't carry lethal intentions towards her, but the reptilian was a different matter entirely. In a single movement, he leveled his gun and fired two rounds aimed at the lizard's torso, instinctively catching the cartridges with an elegant sweep of his hand. It would seem, however, that staying at such a long range would not do him any good. He'd have to come in close to really bring the pain, though it wasn't a viable option for now, considering the amount of exposure it would take to cross the distance. All that was left was hope Archon could provide a decent distraction.

[SoulBeaver]

A spark singed the water's amoebous skin, and it curled away under Archon's uncontrolled spasms of excess power. Usually contained, now unleashed because of a stubborn refusal to accept that which his opponent had just voiced as truth. Instead, the lever inside his mind had placed her just opposite of what she may have encompassed, and Archon would never speak to her like before again.

It remained the first of the final tasks to do- transform. What, he could not yet say; hardly speak at all for that matter. The hopes carried inside his fickle sphere all drowned as pitifully much like the ability to voice himself with reason and sense. A servant of the Deity would have always given aid to a predicament! To say that one 'must' fight just argues that they have a sickening lust for it, and those people must not remain alive! Archon failed to empathize, a virtue his Deity more than once tried to imbue him with.

Instead, broiling emotions steered his flight well over the ship and towards the top of the mast. Archon declared his decision, “Very well!” came the bombastic boom through everybody's minds, and even Emilio in the distance must have heard his enraged mind-voice, “If you 'must' fight me, then I will make sure that you do not survive this, despicable woman! You are a pitiful liar, and I have seen through your feeble facade that you tried to fool me with! Not you, nor the ignorant reptile will return out of these waters with a heart still beating!”

Sparks all over the blue sphere ripped outwards and most of them spiraled down the mast. The blue glow turned into a pseudo-fire that painted the tip of the mast pearl; they engulfed him, devoured his minuscule epicenter until nothing at all remained. Then it grew, multiplied and merged with itself until the blue fire had the size of a bull with an equal amount of ferocity expressed by lashing the air and sails like if the fire had claws and fangs. The sails, too, turned pearl wherever the fire managed to rip across, but they remained otherwise completely intact. Furthermore, the pseudo-fire had yet to adhere to any sense of form, and remained an intangible lump of energy that awaited instructions from the Nucleus.

“Emilio!” Archon urgently called out, “I'm going to grab their attention! Send them to where they belong!” One hoped that the message reached his companion and that he did not remain too far away.

Nevertheless, Archon wanted to grab their attention so that Emilio would undoubtedly recognize a good shot. At least the reptile should have stirred at his remarks and actions. Doubts about catching the woman throwing off her spell lingered like the smash of a hammer against a wooden door, and he did not feel that this diversion would affect her casting. Meanwhile, what the crowd thought as they saw his transformation did not concern him, and chose to willfully ignore the crew members that hopefully remained cautiously complacent.

Barring all thoughts about the thoughts and eventual actions of others, Archon, in his fiery form, descended down the mast with haste. In seconds the fire smashed against the wooden planks that instantly burned pearl as well. It seemed even more violent now as streaks of fire reached out to lash anything it could touch. Soon a ten foot vicinity around the fire had thousands of white scratch marks.

Finally, his transformation ended in a surge of the fire reaching towards the heaven and obscuring Archon for one last second before the gaseous substances in the air subsided and revealed his newest form- a beautiful water weird. Rhythmic waves rippled across his female body, and the natural blue glow diffused stunningly through it Tips of his now bodily long, silky blue hair danced in and out of the material state, becoming hair and part of his body all at once. At the base of his new body the water coagulated to avoid losing his form and feature on the ship.

The weird stood at roughly five and a half feet and bore extremely slender features to the point that one had to worry about touching her. Very frail, but her offset eyes could have blown a simple mind away, and Archon felt that power. Gazes around the ship seemed to pierce the wood in twain, but, sadly, he could afford to dwell on such things. Instead, chosen schools of Enervation and Rune Magic seemed far more important to dwell on, and he quickly gained their prowess upon wishing it so.

The weird focused her enthralling eyes on the reptile and the back of the woman while bearing mixed features of beauty and a failure to emulate emotions of anger. Failed emotions of anger heightened by her frighteningly soothing voice that she used against them, “I have foretold you the consequences of your actions. Endure them now.”

[Wings of Endymion]

Small note regarding the delay; Archon requested some time to read over the above post and edit it, which was duly granted. I waited for Archon's confirmation before posting this.

Also, all character interaction between Yuka and Lask, in all posts past, present, and future, has been pre-approved between their respective writers. I didn't think it needed to be clarified, but just in case... ^^

The being’s voice threatened to flood her senses, so she squeezed her eyes shut and narrowed her focus. The outside world faded to a vague corona contrasted with the burning heat inside her mind, the intensified roar of the crowd and the faintest breath of breeze on her forehead mere pinpricks upon the boundaries of her own private world. The whistle of something tearing through the air by her ears, the chime of metal on metal and a distinctly draconic grunt of pain and agitation; these she could force herself to overlook. The words that forced their way through her defences, however, almost threw her concentration completely.

She held it, barely, but not before something deep inside instinctively cried a response.

You find it so easy to see things in black and white! echoed the powerless scream. But when you dangle by a single thread over the darkest of abyssal morasses, nothing can stop the shadows from touching you, from tempting you… The small voice shuddered, and Yuka nearly shuddered along with it. That, in a nutshell, had been why she had chosen exile to the underdark from the Academy. She dared not have stayed longer for fear of falling further. She dared not have risked the innocence of her friends as well.

Ingwe…

Somehow, she beat back the terror, compelling herself to focus upon the soothing cool of the waters she controlled. Potent and dynamic her power developed between her palms, slowly taking form about the guiding strength of her staff. She ignored the growing storm about her, ignored the violent lashing at her robes as her cloak was just about torn from her shoulders. Yuka ignored everything but the magic she was nurturing to strength, until she could ignore it no longer.

Not the most powerful…

If she had both the time and the will, she could have technically made the spell even more potent. But what was the difference between a ten-foot and a twelve-foot tidal wave, anyways?

… but this will do.

She didn’t want to destroy the entire arena, after all. Or to drown the spectators sitting so merrily in their front row seats. No, this was about right.

“Suishoha!”

The magic swelled, crested, exploded. Yuka reached down with her mind to the waters below and pulled with all her might. A towering wall of sea blue erupted astern of her little boat, before a thrust of her hands sent it soaring towards the opposite side of the arena.

The deck upon which she stood rocked mightily as the sudden artificial flow of water upset its balance. Other ships around and about her also quivered in the deluge, at the fickle mercy of that most capricious of elements. Those to her fore were even less fortunate, and she hoped that her opponent had the presence of mind to hang on. Her objective was to delay him, after all. Not drown him.

In the meantime, however, the previously shapeless being had taken form in the shape of a water elemental, and Yuka’s senses were almost suffocated by the scarily seductive effects of its magic. They reacted in a sickly combination of helplessness and revulsion that Yuka had to forcibly restrain herself from letting show. She was reminded of a particular breed of Haidian daemonette, who would prey upon men weak of mind by tempting them with their deepest desires, only to devour them whole as soon as they were sated.

But it would take more than such petty cantrips to cause her to flinch.

“Don’t you dare lecture me,” she replied in a near-growl, pirouetting neatly on one foot as her cloak billowed gracefully behind her. “I don’t know what kind of god you think you are to judge me…” Her left hand whipped out to snatch her levitating staff from the sky, holding it at arm’s length; her right traced a straight line from the wood to her chest, mimicking the action of drawing a bowstring. By the time she faced Archon once more, a shimmering arrow of the purest white had formed in its wake.

“… but I don’t expect you to understand what the rest of us have to go through.”

What knowledge she had of shape-shifters stemmed from the denizens of her homeland, and those could not be killed unless in their natural form. Thus she might have been forgiven her lack of hesitation as she sought to disrupt the enthrallment.

Her dark eyes smouldered a rare fire as she released, and the arrow flew straight and true towards the nymph’s eyes.