Maybe it's more obvious to me than it is to someone without the senses of a Mageblood. Helena's got magic, sure, so she counts as one by technicality, but it hasn't changed her yet. She can't move the way I do, or control magic with the same ease as breathing.

But, Gods, if I'm not screaming at her to pay attention, as I sprint towards her. She's turned in response to my shout. Don't look at me, idiot, look at the monster charging towards you! At this speed, the best I can do is point and shout some more, praying she'll catch on and move.

Too slow. Here, in a moment stretched by urgency and instinct, with each of my steps lengthened by the force of Wind, even the alarm in her eyes sparks sluggishly.

She's an idiot, I remind myself, a fool who hasn't been listening when I thought she was. But I don't plan on bringing back a corpse. She deserves a talking to, not a burial.

I'm furious, obviously. But I'm also resigned, and utterly unsurprised. She's a novice, and one who only really seems to care about what I can give her, in retrospect. A novice I'd humored too far— and now I'm down here without my gear, fighting something where both would've been very appreciated. I could've gone for knocking the bear off track instead, even, used my armor to protect myself from the thorns.

And there's a tinge of relief as my arms wrap around her, dragging her out of the way. Relief followed a sharp, stinging pain, because I'm not fast enough to get completely out of the way when it's trying to steer towards us. The monster's side scrapes across my arm, thorns scoring bloody valleys through flesh and clattering across scales. I grit my teeth and force that last step out of the way, wincing even as magic starts trying to stitch my flesh back together.

Time, stretched thin, snaps back together. My heartbeat rumbles in my ears, warm blood drips over rapidly-forming scales, and I can't help but curse my own idiocy.

“I didn't see it,” Helena murmurs through rapid, shallow breaths, hands curling around my forearms. “I didn't see it, I didn't see it. Oh, Restoration. I could've— you—”

“Regret later. Focus, Helena.” I peel my arms away from her, wincing as each torn muscle flexes and strains. Can I take this thing down, starting off with an injury? Definitely. Can I do it easily without killing a rather fragile human in the collateral, without, unarmed? No.

I instinctively reach for my belt, for a bandage I can use or even a healing salve. When I grasp at air, I'm once again reminded that I went into this without any of my usual tools.

Helena stumbles as I step back, knees buckling. I steady her with my uninjured hand, but turn my focus to my wounds in the seconds we have before the monster turns back around.

Let's see. I roll my shoulder back, clench my hand into a fist, and Gods, ow, that stings still. Easily manageable, but straining myself while healing would just be another risk. It's my dominant arm, too, but I wouldn't have gotten far as a Delver if I could only fight uninjured.

Of course, I've survived this long in part due to preparation. Armor, knives, alchemical solutions, spiked knuckles on occasion, all the sorts of things that'd help fight giant monsters— I kick those thoughts to the side. Complaining helps nothing.

I slide back into analysis, and get a good look at the monster. It's another bramble-bound bear, a carving wrapped in knotted thorns and drooling tar from a jagged maw. Could even be the same one, if it picked up our scent. I should've been more careful.

Tough. Very tough, but not impossibly so, I'm sure; I'd faced scarier foes plenty of times. Best comparison I can draw up is a brawl with an Ent. I'll need big hits to crack the wood, and it's heavy enough that I can use its own weight against it— but I'll need something to cut the briars. Given my knife is still at the estate, I guess it'll be Wind for that. Alternatively, a flask of fire from an alchemist would have worked excellently. Burn the briars away, maybe scorch the wood enough to weaken it.

Drawing everything together? If I'd brought my equipment, I could kill it with relative ease. But I didn't, so I'll have to improvise.

Plans form, plans are discarded, and as the bear monster finally skids to a stop, I have an idea.

Helena takes a shuddering breath, hugging herself and visibly shaking. “Can we. Gods, can we fight that? Are you okay?”

“No choice.” I reply curtly. The monster is lumbering towards us now, loping steps eating up the distance. “Helena, get behind something and hit it at the joint of its left hind limb, cut up the brambles. Can you do precision?”

She nods rapidly, dropping her hands down to her thankfully-intact bag. “I, um, yes. I spend a lot of time—”

“Good.” I nod, loosening my stance and dripping Lightning into my legs. It wouldn't have the raw force of Wind, but short-range Lightning can cause explosive damage. Perfect for breaking joints, even if the noise can draw a lot of attention. I put more magic into my good arm, drawing out the scales and turning my nails into sharp claws. “Then do it. Hammer its joints with Wind whenever I call for it, and stay away, understand?”

Helena's voice drops, her words wavering. “I understand.”

I hum in response, but it comes out as more of a growl. Tail lashing, I bring up my good arm and start circling to one side, away from Helena. Looks like she's getting out of the way, good, and the bear is looking at me more than her. Even better.

The bear turns just enough, picking up speed. Each step shakes the ground, tossing branches and leaves in every direction. Come on, come on.

A sound like tearing branches is ripped from its throat, and a gleam of greenish light forms on its fangs. Instinct demands I bare my own fangs, and I snarl in answer to the monster's call. My heart pounds in my chest, stirring with the strange excitement of battle.

The bear draws closer, and closer, and closer. Gods, it's huge, isn't it, tall enough to look straight into my eyes—

The soil trembles beneath me, as if threatening to give way—

Come on, Helena—

Its fangs are a handsbreadth from my chest when I leap to the side, half-lunging, half-spinning. I push Wind through my tail as it whips around, carving gouges through the bramble and tearing splinters of wood from its knee.

Lightning pulses, setting every hair on end, and I stomp down on the now exposed and wounded knee joint.

A sound like thunder rolls over me. Splinters fly, the air crackles, and the bear tumbles as a small hole appears where my boot connected. Its own momentum drags it forward and downward into the dirt, a mess of flying limbs and snarling fury.

I snarl back, swiping a Wind-enhanced claw across its flank. Brambles fly through the air, tumbling in the sudden breeze, and I follow it by leaning back and stomping down again with my foot.

Another deafening crack. Another roar of thunder. Another scattering of shrapnel and splinters. Leaves flutter through the air, blasted outward by the force of the blow.

In one moment, the monster is stumbling, seeking its footing. My heart is roaring in my ears.

In the next, the thing is turning, its wooden claws close enough to my face that I feel a breeze. Instinct alone allows me to duck under, and I refuse to lose any ground. I brace myself instead, ducking lower when the second paw hooks around. My legs tense. Lightning crackles in my left hand, and I curl my scaled fingers into a loose fist.

“The head, Helena!” I roar. “Aim up!”

The monster's turn completes... and my fist connects with its chin, which is now directly above me.

Lightning flashes, wood blackens, and the monster's head snaps back, groaning and creaking like a dead tree. Its forepaws, still uneven on their new footing, rise off the ground completely.

A moment later, shimmering Wind slams into its neck, pushing it further upwards onto its hind legs.

“Again!”

Helena's Wind slices its way through the brambles, leaving a chunk of its midsection exposed. I drop into a fighting stance and deliver a punch to its midsection, then a lighter, Wind-enhanced one with my wounded arm. It stings, tugging at ripped muscle, but I’m careful not to strain it further. A third punch sinks into the monster's wooden hide, finally denting it— finally making a weak point. I pivot into a Lightning kick directly into that dent, burning briars and splitting the wood loudly enough to hurt my ears.

This seems to just piss it off. It roars, drowning out all other noise, and swings its arms down as if to crush my head.

Dodging would let it recover, make it a tougher fight. Blocking lets me stay in close, but the risk... no.

The risk isn’t acceptable, I realize, and I leap backwards. None of the usual risks are acceptable here. Any hit these things land is going to hurt, and I don't have any of the tools to manage that risk.

Tools that Helena pushed us to go in without. I'm an idiot.

So I’m probably not killing this thing without help from a Delve Heart, and if getting to it is dangerous, we might need to escape with the Heart. I'll need to disable the monster and buy time, somehow. Low risk. Distract it, maybe. How?

As the monster drops back down, I spin on one foot and drive the other straight into its snout. Something gives underneath, cracking but not breaking entirely. My tail follows the pivot, slapping against its side and scattering the briars. Just as my tail connects, I take a quick jab at its chin, wincing when the wood fails to give. It roars, snapping at my hand, swinging with one paw as if to bat me away. I step back again, taking a few quick punches and kicks where I can find the openings.

No distractions here. The monster isn't even close to dying, either. Maybe some Delve trick, or just blasting a hole in the ground and hoping that delays it?

Or maybe Helena could...

I glance back.

No Helena. Gods damn it all.

“Helena!” I shout, irritation nearly turning it into a roar. She's running off on her own again! It better be worth it.

The monster swings at me again, getting up on its hind legs. I duck and weave, slamming a Lightning-infused punch into the crack on the monster's belly.

A moment later, the Delve stirs. The rippling feeling of the Delve Heart rises over the background, prodding at my magic. Something, or someone, is moving the Heart. Not that there's any doubt who did it— she's either very stupid, very brave, or both.

It's a complicated thought to be having when I'm trying to tear apart this monster. I leap away from another lethal paw-swipe, dripping Wind into my claws. I scan its hind legs, and after another swipe that gets far too close to my head, I drag sharpened Wind across its knee. With the brambles cleared—

It spins, and a briar-wrapped backhand forces me to dodge. Damn.

“Whatever scheme you've got, Helena, hurry up!” I shout, ducking in for another string of punches. The cracks in the monster's belly are smaller than before, I realize, and I bite out a curse. Of course it can heal. Every dodge I make gives it more time to recover, and with my wounded arm I'm barely outpacing it.

“I- Ivy! C— oh, Restoration sustain me— catch!” Her voice cuts through the noise with impeccable timing, audibly strained and wavering.

Oh Gods she's going to throw a Delve Heart.

And when I turn, she's hefting the Delve Heart— a fist sized lump of yellowish crystal, pulsing in time with the waves of the Delve. Her arms are shaking, her eyes are glowing brighter than ever before, but with Wind swirling around her hands, she manages to lob it in my direction.

Helena drops to the ground like a puppet on cut strings, her arms collapsing when she tries to stop herself. She'll be fine. Probably. I don’t see any visible wounds or warping, which is good.

My eyes snap to the Heart, watching as it arcs through the air. Moving even further from the monster, I brace myself, and snatch it out of the air.

Delve Hearts are incredible things. Little chunks of raw, solidified Delve magic, useable like any other form of stored magic.

Incredible and overwhelming to the unprepared, as Helena just demonstrated. They don’t give you a choice.

Delve magic oozes out like a cold and viscous tar, creeping up my body and biting at my bones. Scales spread up my arm in response, and the world brightens and sharpens to impossible clarity. Each splinter, each crack in the stone— each ragged breath from Helena. My tail lengthens, curling to the side so it stays out of my way.

Minutes before, I was looking for a distraction. A delaying tactic, so Helena and I could run and grab the Delve Heart for this exact plan. I’ll give her credit for that, even if it was phenomenally stupid of her.

Now, with Helena weakened, I’ll have to think a bit creatively to deal with this monster, but at least I’m not on the back foot.

Delve magic swirls sluggishly around me, and as the monster lowers itself for another charge, I close my eyes and reach inward. Into the Delve itself, grasping at its impossible abstractions near-blindly. I search for familiarity, for a feeling I've experienced once before.

Sharpened senses let me step out of the monster's charge, even with my eyes closed. It's not even aimed at Helena, so I don't have to worry about that. Where is it, where is it... it has to be here, somewhere in this. It's like feeling around in a dark room, searching for a needle and hoping it doesn't prick me. It's part of this Delve layer, though, so my metaphorical needle can't be far.

My wounded arm starts to ache, stronger than before. Tarlike Delve magic pools into the cuts and bruises, coating them with scales and yanking everything back together.

The monster turns and snaps, the groaning of its joints more than enough warning for me to lean away.

I reach deeper. Deeper, into the dark—

There. A roaring, a shift without movement, bound up in an idea and framed like a loose gear. It's cold and bitter, speaking of frozen sleep and brutal repose.

The Delve had already gone from Summer to Autumn— why not make it Winter next?

Pouring Delve magic through myself, I grab the cog and slot it into place. My mind catches on the pinching gears, and I can’t help but wince.

The ground shakes. My bones ache. The breeze turns frigid. Flecks of ice and snow blink into existence, melting on my skin and glittering on my scales when I open my eyes. My tail curls inward towards my leg, seeking warmth as frost bites deep into it.

When the monster stops to sniff, I sprint towards Helena, ducking down to scoop her up. She's quite light, maybe too light, actually.

“Snow?” She murmurs groggily, shaking her head. Her voice is barely audible over the rising wind. Snowflakes cling to her hair and eyelashes as she blinks herself back to full consciousness. “Is that... mm.”

Never mind. She's still recovering. The question is valid though; how is a little snow going to stop a wooden bear?

Well, that's easy. It's not going to be a little bit of snow. It'll be a whole winter's worth, all at once, if the last seasonal shift was anything to go by.

The wind rises to a roar, and I drag a bubble of Wind around us. A touch of Delve magic can nudge the worst of it away, but it'll still—

Winter arrives with a sound I'll describe as wumph. A march-tall blanket of snow arrives with no particular warning or obvious origin, bringing with it raw air and dead silence.

There's even snow under my boots, somehow. There's barely two-hundredths of a march worth around us, thanks to Wind and Delve magic, which I'm quite thankful for. I dismiss the bubble with a flick of my tail, and lumps of snow collapse inward on the now-empty space.

Crowning this winter landscape is the giant, motionless lump of snow where the monstrous bear was. If we're lucky, these things hibernate in winter like real bears and react appropriately to the changing of the layer’s season. If we're unlucky and it’s still awake, it's still buried in a massive pile of snow. Win-win.

Helena groans, hands flopping up to rub her cheeks. “R-Restoration, bless me with strength. Thank you. But, um, could you let me down now?”

I raise an eyebrow, and debate dumping her into the snow. She kind of deserves it. I give the snow a slap with my tail instead, sending a shower of the stuff over our surroundings. “You’re welcome. It took a lot of work to get us out of that alive, and we're not out of the woods yet.”

I wince at my own pun, crouching down to let Helena find her footing. I don't move until she is firmly upright, which I admit I didn't expect her to be capable of.

“And,” I add, sticking a claw up, stalling her words, “You picked up a Delve Heart. Good plan, stupid decision.”

She flushes red under my glare. “At least, um, it worked out?”

At least it worked out, she says. As if she hadn’t caused the damn problem herself. Heat stirs in my gut.

“At least it worked out,” I hiss back, teeth clenched. There’s a growl underpinning my words, and I don’t care to stop it. Burning heat floods my body, pumped on by my still-thumping heart and drowning out everything else. “And why did we have to work it out, Helena?”

My eyes lock with Helena's, and she shudders. Her jaw works. “Um, because of the monster. But I couldn't have known—”

She stops abruptly. My blood boils, and my tail is lashing from side to side, digging vicious furrows in the snow.

“Oh, you couldn't have known, Helena?” I hiss, stepping closer. How dare she try for an excuse. It's infuriating. I reach for wounding words, and they come easily. “Did you try listening when I spoke? Or were you too busy trying to prove your farce of a Church wrong?”

Her cheeks turn bright red, and she locks her eyes with mine. “Don't you dare call them that. I wasn't sure what to do! I thought we were safe!”

“Obviously, we weren't!” I bite, fuming. I jab a claw at her, and she steps back. “Which you would have known if you had paid attention! And you didn't! You weren't even listening to what I just said, were you?”

The heat is nearly unbearable. Tension builds in my chest, coiled ever tighter, waiting and begging for release. I want to bite, or claw, or punch, or scream. To roar at the sky, with this Delve’s magic setting my blood ablaze.

She jerks her chin up, crossing her arms. “You took me on this Delve! You let me do this, so I thought you could handle anything we ran into. I overestimated, I misunderstood.”

“You're still not listening!” I fire back at her, swinging my arms wide for emphasis. Wind follows the motion, blasting a wall of snow into the air behind me. “I was telling you, right then and there, that we needed to be careful. But you ran ahead!”

She bites her lip, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I made a mistake, then, fine! I learned from it. I know now.”

“A mistake. One. Sssure.” I snarl, rolling my eyes. The hiss that comes with being fully transformed is leaking out, and it’s enough to make me exercise just a bit of control. I turn and pace, boots digging satisfyingly into the ground. In that moment, realization dawns, swirling into dread. I voice my thoughts as they come. “No. You were trying to use me, Helena. It was my mistake trusting you.”

Helena blinks. “What? No, I—”

“I let you stay in my home. You, a member of the Restoration. I fed you, I hosted you, and I let you talk me into guiding you through a Delve. And I let it happen! Without any of my equipment! Am I an idiot, suddenly?” I rattle everything off, counting finger by finger. “And then you ask a thousand questions. You question my orders, you run ahead, and I bet you were trusting your books more than an experienced Delver. All so you can prove a point to your Church.”

Silence, punctuated by a heavy exhale from my throat. My words are shaky, my eyes watery. “That's all your Gods-damned Church does. You take and take until I have nothing left to give.”

“Oh,” Helena says. And, a moment later, “I didn't realize. You didn't say anything.”

“Of course you didn't notice. If you had been trying to trick me, I would have noticed,” I shrug, pacing my breaths. “I'm not stupid.”

Not in that way, at least. I'm going to be feeling the wound to my pride for a long time.

With a wave of my hand, Wind crushes down a short path towards our destination. The tar-like feeling is still awful, but now that I've adjusted I can lean on the Heart's strength for a few extra tricks like carving paths.

“Let's go. Follow me.”

Helena follows quietly, wobbling every few steps. I match her pace but walk in front, pausing whenever she stumbles. Guess she isn't fully recovered yet. All the while, I'm eyeing the lump in the snow, waiting for the monster to burst out of it.

I only stop looking once we're out of the clearing, surrounded by the bare branches of countless trees.

Then, among the gently swaying trees, my heart finally begins to settle. The rage drains, leaving only shivers and cold behind. Gods, I'm exhausted.

Finally, or perhaps inevitably, Helena starts to speak again. My tail comes up, curling a bit uncomfortably around my waist so I don't try and drive it into the snow.

“Um,” she starts, working her jaw. “Are Delve Hearts always like that? Was this bigger than normal? Smaller?”

Oh, so we're not going to talk about her idiotic decision that caused this whole problem. Of course not. She probably wants to move past it.

“Smaller,” I grunt anyways, hefting the Heart. I squint at it, a bit of scholarly surprise and curiosity pushing past my irritation with Helena. Much smaller than usual. Only Depth impacts how they affect people touching them, though. I don't say that aloud, though; I’m still a bit heated for conversation and I’m not really keen on sharing it with Helena in particular.

It's unusually small, actually. Half the size I'd expect, but still plenty big enough to seal up the portal. Size is irrelevant for that; no matter how big or small, a Heart is always destroyed in the process.

Not my academic area. Moving my thoughts onward for now, I resolve to look it up after, ugh, that fancy dinner tonight. I run a hand along my tail, curled around me as it is, taking a bit of pleasure from the click click click of claws on scales.

“It could've killed you,” I say pointedly, a growl rumbling in my throat. “Crushed your soul like a grape. And if you'd missed the throw, I'd have to expose myself to get it.”

“But it didn't, and it worked, right? Um.” She pauses awkwardly, pulling her arms tight around herself and shivering. “Will I start turning into a full Mageblood?”

I feel her eyes raking across my scales. “Scared, then?”

“No,” she replies softly. “Just curious how much I'll change, is all. If I change.”

I can hear how her heart thuds in her chest, how her body trembles at the words. I remember feeling like that, years and years ago. Scared of the future, too weak for the present.

Part of me wants to reach out and comfort her. The other remembers that I can't trust her, that she'll break that trust thoughtlessly if given another chance.

“I was scared too,” I admit quietly, my words suffocated by the snow.

We walk on in silence. The whisper of Wind as I carve our path is agonizingly loud by comparison.