After what felt like an eternity, the torrent finally ended. Heavens returned to normal, looking as if nothing has ever happened. But the ground took the brunt of it. There was mud everywhere, torn tents and broken pieces of wood littered the area that used to be Hazelmere’s camp. So much water fell on it, the dug-out shelters have turned into large, deep puddles.

Everyone looked miserable, especially the mages. Soldier’s armor proved durable, and while it was soaking wet, it still had its original shape. However, the mages’ garments were a completely different story. Most of them wore enchanted, fancy dresses. The more prestigious a mage is, the more fancy her dress has to be.

Because the mages care about their appearance way too much and is the first thing they’ll spend their coin on.

While enchanted with all kinds of practical magic, most of their garments are very delicate and fragile. After all, there’s no need to have durable clothing if you know how to use a barrier spell. And simple barrier spell is always among the first spells every mage learns. Due to their rarity, the mages are extremely valuable to their houses, so their safety is always a priority.

However, a barrier spells can’t hold out against repeated attacks, and there’s very little distinction between an arrow and a water jet strike. The barrier doesn’t care about the mass as much as it cares about the speed and intensity.

Still, it’s not recommended to use a barrier to defend against a slow-moving boulder since a momentary loss of concentration will turn a mage into a red pile of mush.

So, after the whirlwind has stopped, the walking mages resembled the living specters more than the people. Their fancy clothes were soaking wet, ripped in several places. Their scattered, long hairs clung tightly to their form, sandals came undone, their bodies turned completely pale. Some of them tried using their staff as support but gave up quickly after realizing it gets stuck easily in the deep mud.

A lot of them gathered around Peratha, hoping to warm themselves. As a capable and experienced fire mage, she knew how to manipulate the fire’s intensity, making her a perfect, although expensive, hair drier. And she would also dry their clothes at the same time. So, they clustered around Peratha, sharing their magic with her.

“Is everyone ok?” Hazelmere asked.

“Not really ok, but it looks like we are all here,” Mizette responded.

“All my soldiers are also accounted for.”

Hazelmere turned around and saw Heartwell standing behind her.

“Oh … that is good … and good work on those shelters …”

Heartwell’s eyes widened a bit, his wet ears rising up slowly and moving away from each other.

“You’re welcome. Unfortunately, those didn’t help much.”

“It did protect us from all that smashed wood flying around,” Peratha’s eyes were closed as she concentrated on the spell.

“That was the angel’s idea. Speaking of him, has anyone seen him? Is he ok?”

Hazelmere jerked as soon as she realized what Heartwell was alluding to.

“Oh my gods, we must find him!” She started running immediately, her feet sliding clumsily across the mud.

“You aren’t dry yet!” Peratha let out an annoyed moan as she said that. But Hazelmere pretended she didn’t hear her.

Heartwell, Vukasin, and a few of the soldiers followed her and, after a short while, they found Galizur near what used to be the camp entrance. He was at the exact place where he was before the storm, still kneeling on the ground. However, his back wasn’t straight anymore, he was hunched over. His wings, now completely drenched, looked much smaller than before.

As they approached him from behind, Vukasin noticed something: “It looks like he’s shaking. Maybe the chill is getting to him?”

“No, he isn’t shaking,” Heartwell responded.

“Look at him, his upper body is going up and down repeatedly!”

“No, we’ve seen this countless times before.”

“It really looks like he is shaking,” Hazelmere said, increasing her speed as she waded through the mud.

But, Heartwell grabbed her shoulder to slow her down, making Hazelmere turn around to give him a look of disgusted disapproval.

“He isn’t shaking. He’s sobbing.”

“Heh?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

For some reason, that made Hazelmere go back in line.

And indeed, when they’ve approached him, they heard the angel sobbing.

Heartwell stood next to Galizur, crossing his arms: “So … I take it our side lost …”

As soon as he said that, Hazelmere hit him in the chest with her staff, looking scornfully at him.

The angel didn’t respond though.

“Are you ok?” Hazelmere asked, “Can we help you somehow?”

“No, we … you are right, we have failed … w-we didn’t expect …” Galizur mumbled.

“It’s alright. Yes, you may have lost the battle, but don’t you still have a war to wage?” Heartwell continued, “I admit, I’m ignorant when it comes to the spiritual world, but I bet you’ll fight them again. Whoever or whatever that was. The fact that you’re still alive tells me that not everything is lost yet.”

That made Galizur stand up: “Yes, you are right. I … I have to go … join the others … see what our next move is.”

Saying that, he started shaking his wings violently, spraying everyone near him with water. Then, he spread out his big wings and flapped them with enough force to stagger everyone behind him, launching himself up in the air while spraying the others with the big chunks of mud. Hazelmere also sensed an intense burst of magic for a brief moment.

Realizing what’s going on, she started screaming: “Wait!”

But the angel didn’t respond in any way. He just kept ascending away from her.

“Wait! What are we supposed to do?”

---

“What is wrong? Why the long face? Is the angel alright?” Mizette asked as soon as she noticed Hazelmere approach.

“Well, he appears to be alright. It is just that he flew away without explaining anything.”

“It looks like our side lost,” Heartwell added.

“I sensed the portal waning before, but it looks like it is back to its full strength now.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Hazelmere turned to give Cybil a surprised look.

“Oh, you are still here …”

“Had you done your job properly, instead of fawning over the angel, you would notice that sooner,” Cybil lifted her nose as she spoke.

Getting tired of their arguing before it has even begun, Mizette interrupted them: “Anyway, she is right. I can still sense the portal out there, and I bet all of you can sense it too.”

“But if it was losing its energy, then how is it back to full strength now?” Hazelmere wondered out loud.

Peratha shrugged: “We are completely ignorant of immortal’s magic, so there’s no point in trying to figure that out.”

“Maybe the portal did lose some of its energy, but then that storm has recharged it once again? Just like Peratha said, we have no idea what we are dealing with, so we should consider everything, including things we think to be impossible.”

“Miss Cybil … if I may add … something …”

Hazelmere turned towards the unfamiliar voice and saw a nun she never saw before. Her clothing was in stark contrast to that of mages, completely covering everything but her face.

“And who are you?” Hazelmere asked her.

The nun lowered her gaze shyly: “Umm … I’m sure you don’t … remember … since you were busy … with everything …”

Hazelmere’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance with every pause in the nun’s speech.

“… I am … Moana … the archpriestess.”

A very unladylike snort escaped through Hazelmere’s nose as she almost burst out laughing.

“Ppfff … Moana … ppfff … are you serious?”

Nun’s face turned red as she lowered her head even more, her ears landing flat on top of her head.

“It’s … not the most … noble of names … I know …”

Hazelmere looked around, searching for the faces of her fellow archmages. All of them smiled slightly, while some of them had compassionate expressions.

“Yes, we have already been through that while you were in the dungeon,” Peratha said, “poor girl must have been bullied her whole life.”

“I thought my name was unoriginal, but what were your parents thinking?” Hazelmere asked.

“I … I wasn’t named by … my parents … “

“Well, that makes no sense. Why wouldn’t they be the ones to give you your name?”

“I’m an … orphan …”

Hazelmere looked around, looking confused.

“Yes, an orphan like in: she was abandoned by her parents,” Peratha helped her out.

“So, you are a peasant? Or worse, a slum dweller? I have never heard of any noble family abandoning its child.”

The nun remained quiet while starring at her own feet as she twiddled with her thumbs.

Hazelmere sized the nun up and down for a few moments, her facial expression changing as different ideas went through her mind.

In the end, she landed her hand on the nun’s shoulder.

“Well, usually I would get pissed off by it, but I can’t really be picky about my companions right now. Since almost everyone else has fled, even the angel from the heavens, I will need all the help I can get. Besides, I already have the peasants responsible for my security, so letting a slum dweller in won’t make much of a difference. In fact, as much as I hate to admit it, you will fit here just fine.”

For a short moment, the nun lifted her head to look at Hazelmere, but she quickly turned her gaze back to the ground.

“Anyway, you wanted to say something?” Cybil reminded her why she got the attention in the first place.

“Umm … yes …”

Hazelmere’s brow continued twitching with each pause, but she said nothing.

“… that storm … it didn’t come alone … a lot of demonic corruption … came along with it …”

“I sensed something else out there, but I had no idea what it was,” Peratha nodded her head.

“So basically, it was heavens against the demons? But, how would they even get here in the first place? Even if they used their astral forms. I thought they were bound to their own continent,” Cybil pointed out.

“They came together … with the storm … it carried them here …”

“Are you saying that Yesis has joined the demons? That’s absurd!”

Seeing Moana’s meek reaction to her raised voice, Cybil became gentler instantly.

“I mean, he never took any sides, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but … Yesis is chaotic … and unpredictable … his vengefulness has no bounds … he would join any side … as long as it suits his goal …”

“All right, this isn’t the time nor the place for such discussions. Let us go back to our main tent and …”

Hazelmere turned around and started walking, only to stop after two steps.

“Ah, yes … we don’t have a camp anymore …”