She didn’t even scream. If she had a moment to spare through the chaos and confusion, Skie would have been proud of herself. Instead, the blood drained from her face as the echoes of the Engine continued to churn within her and the very plains of Haidia were summoned forth from the gnarled wood plank floors.

Wanna play? Her ears were ringing with the question. It reminded her vaguely of her brother. She’d never met Talen, never seen magic like this, so close to the realm of Xem’Zund and the dead that rose in Raiaera, but she knew its flavor. There was something about people who called violence a game, birds of a feather that were more raptor than songbird.

Swallowing the spit that had flooded her mouth as her body fought against the wafting scent of crackling flesh, she sucked in a breath through gritted teeth but it did little to calm the nausea. It hurt to rebel against the need to vomit, and tears threatened to flood her vision as she backed away from the advancing child and his glowing eyes. It wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt. It hadn’t been too long ago that Skie had laid face first in Concordia, dismembered and left for dead but the discomfort now was just great enough to feel like agony.

Her own sword came to her hand, pulled from its oiled sheath. The reflection of the coiling smoke and glowing emblazoned flesh danced down the blade. There’d been more grease than there had any right to be in the mess of this ship, and death and fear from the crew added their own charms until the room smelled like bacon and shit.

The storm outside was closing in and the ship pitched, muffled thunder cracking through the screams. Skie’s feet widened as the rocking of the floor beneath them grew stronger. There was no reason to ask why the boy had pulled forth abominations from the ether. In Skie’s experience, evil was as evil did. She’d been rushing to Lornius for a fight, though she’d expected Seth to be by her side. She continued to move back and around. Surely if she could get to the wall, she could get to a door, and make it up to the thief.

“Stay back,” she said, and felt her words as lame and weak as a newborn calf. Stay back? Something told her that someone so young who casually pulled three horrors from the floor and exploded them with fire wasn’t going to be phased by her sword, even if it was the blade that had slain a Forgotten One once.

Through a plume of smoke, she dodged to the side as a mass came rolling out of the haze. She wasn’t sure if it had been a burnt body or one of the bone minions, but she wasn’t about to take her eyes off the too pale teenager. This was not the elegant death she’d imagined. To be fair, death rarely cared much for finesse and beauty.

Swallowing hard once more, she started to silently call upon the magic that had been so hesitant to come to her command. The once-demon girl could only hope it wouldn’t remain silent today.