Myanna grunted as she pushed the heavy wooden support off the pile of rubble she had found herself in. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of battle, punctuated by the occasional boom of a combat spell that sent small bits of debris clattering to the ground. Her leg was pinned beneath broken stone, but she could still feel it, so she figured it was likely in good shape. She glanced around before continuing her efforts to free herself and found that she was in the same ritual chamber from the last time she’d been there. All the headway the work crews had made in emptying it of rubble had been undone.

Under her other arm was the satchel that she had moved to protect with her body just before hitting the ground. Had the materials in there been crushed all at once, rubble would have been the least of her worries. Unfortunately, any attempt to add the arm to her efforts to free herself ran the same risk. Instead, she focused her will on her greensight in search of roots or other plant material of use. With two separate events heavily damaging the underground chamber as they had, the amount of soft earth around her was both frightening and promising.

A cluster of deep roots from a tree that had sunk low into the earth during one of the collapses glowed a gentle green near the edge of her perception. Closing her eyes to give them her whole focus, she closed her hands and whispered the magic to bring the roots to her. “Plentaaz jecantroli.”

The roots emerged from the soil and debris slowly like wooden serpents, slithering along the floor and through the air toward her. Careful not to disturb too much in their path, Myanna directed each damp tendril into the mass she found herself beneath. She wrapped different parts of her body with the roots but didn’t yet pull. The frail condition of the roots ran too high a risk of snapping if she rushed the process. Wrapping her free hand with some of the roots offered increased sensitivity and control, moving the remainder of the root system as if it were an extension of herself.

She had to take a moment to steady her breathing, the respiration of the tree and its photosynthesis disorienting her briefly. But only then did she realize that part of the tree was still exposed to the surface. It could provide her a means of escape beyond just the rubble.

“Jizenfriada Aumeinta,” the cuirizu whispered to the root wrapped around her hand as if sharing a secret with it. The green glow of the magic hummed up the root and through the rest of the tree’s form, causing it to suddenly engage in a growth spurt. Many of the roots thickened, lengthened, and grew tighter around her while outside, the tree was reaching higher into the sky to capture more light. The trunk also thickened, pushing a great deal of earth aside in the process, as did the roots not engaged in the rescue attempt.

“Pull me out,” she instructed, though strictly speaking, vocalizing her wishes was not required. Still, it helped to keep her will focused enough to ignore the failing structure of the chamber around her. She wasn’t confident that any amount of workers would be able to clear it after this.

The roots around her retracted, pulling as others shunted small boulders and heavy earth to either side. Within moments she was free of the rubble and placed gingerly back on her feet. As she suspected, no serious harm had been done to the leg that had been pinned. However, she was still covered in cuts, scrapes, and bruises from her fall from the surface. Glancing up, she couldn’t make out any light filtering down from the surface, indicating that either the opening had closed up or the manor had collapsed across the top of it. With a brief gesture of her hand, she directed the roots to bury themselves to recover nutrients after the tree’s augmentation.

Myanna checked the satchel hanging at her side, taking quick inventory to see if everything was still in working shape. She’d only lost a few vials of non-volatile material. She had even managed to save the cracked bottle of mazadamorchi sap she had brandished at Belias and the instructions he had provided on the slip of folded parchment. Taking one of the small blue vials, she popped the stopper and downed the contents in a single gulp. The fluid's cool, soothing sweetness emanated from her throat and stomach for only a moment before going to work on her body. It didn’t undo all of the injuries she had sustained in the fall, but it was enough to keep the pain from being distracting. She needed every shred of focus now that a battle was raging outside.

A quick examination of her surroundings revealed nothing useful, nor did any of the workers appear to have been in the chamber when it collapsed. The main entrance was completely blocked, which brought Myanna’s attention back to the sprawling roots of the tree. It was possible she could use forestwalking to get herself back to the surface and clear of the unstable earth.

Clearing some of the loose soil away, Myanna laid one hand on the damp bark of the tree’s lower section. Then, just as she passed into the tree, a large chunk of the manor came tumbling down the hillside and through the tree. Myanna was ejected from the tree near the surface amid a cloud of wooden slivers and debris. Landing awkwardly to avoid crushing the contents of her satchel, the cuirizu slid down the hill a dozen feet before coming to a stop. More of the debris tumbled and clattered down the hillside around her, most of which had been strewn to either side of the tree upon striking it. At the top of the hill, a supernaturally loud scream cut through the twilight.

“Brenna,” Myanna muttered, searching quickly for a safe path up the hillside but finding none. Instead, she would have to go around. The terrain on her side was far too damaged to navigate safely. Wasting no more time, she broke into a run toward the path that would lead her around to the far side of the hill.

When she came around the bend, the fading light of the sun below the horizon barely illuminated the battlefield before her. From what she could see, Captain Steinbach responded to the attack quickly, forming his troops into a tight formation to push back their attackers. On the other side of the battlefield was the Order of the Crimson Light. The Orbonne Company of mercenaries under Steinbach’s command were all seasoned soldiers, unlike the irregular combatants the Abyssals had been using prior to their acquisition. Judging by the size of the army, the Crimson Light had either not expected their level of prowess or their numbers.

Spells lit up the sky, slung from back lines into clusters of soldiers on both sides. Myanna approached the command tent at a jog, getting the immediate attention of Steinbach, who gave directions to officers over a battle map with one hand while holding the other to a bleeding wound in his head.

“You’re still alive?” Steinbach scoffed, giving her only a second of his time before looking back at the map. “Where’s Belias?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Myanna replied, looking toward the manor house. “He must still be inside. Ground opened up under me with the initial attack.”

Another intense supernatural scream echoed down the hillside, briefly drowning out the sounds of combat. A portion of the manor crumbled immediately after. Myanna furrowed her brows at the thought of Belias up there battling with the woman she had thought was hers. Before she could take a step to investigate, another section of the building exploded outward, only this time, it was a giant winged demon with Belias riding on its back.

Myanna stared in disbelief as Belias soared low over the battlefield. She didn’t recognize the breed of demon he was riding, but its profane aura was more powerful than she would have ever given Belias credit for being able to control. Her amazement was short-lived as one of the Crimson Light’s mages hurled a wing-binding spell up at the creature, causing it to plummet earthward where dozens of blades awaited it.

“Fuck,” Steinbach spat, motioning to the nearest soldiers. “Form up! We need to recover him!”

Myanna glanced up the hill toward the manor, seeing no sign of the prosecutor she was there to find. If she left now, with so many eyes on her, it would be seen as her quitting the field or running from battle.

“Damn it,” the cuirizu grumbled as she fished in her satchel for another of the blue potions, which she handed over to the captain. “Drink this.”

Steinbach did as he was told without question, recognizing the healing potion from prior uses in the field. It was the most common potion available among the soldiers, usually kept in protected cases with medics. The wound in his head stopped bleeding, and some color returned to his face.

“Let’s hope he won’t be needing too many of these,” Steinbach muttered as he drew his weapon. “You comin’?”

Myanna nodded and waded into battle with the man and the soldiers accompanying them. Though she pulled the whip from the place where it hung on her hip, the cuirizu refrained from using it in such close quarters until she had a better lay of the land.

“Lieutenant!” Steinbach roared as loud as possible at a tall, pale, younger man just a few paces ahead of them. The man turned to face the captain as he yelled his orders at the top of his lungs, barely piercing the din of the battle around them. With a stiff motion of his hand, the captain pointed out where Belias had gone down. “I need you to open it up! Burn it!”

“But sir,” the man responded. “I’ll hit the ritual master!”

Steinbach shook his head. “Negative. He’s got fire resistance, trust me!”

Without further questions, the sorcerer raised his hands, called out a signal that he was casting, and then let the spell fly. A small ball of flame went streaking through the crowd before erupting into a hellish sphere of infernal flame right where it was needed. A pocket opened as those not immediately killed in a blast of hellfire scattered, screaming in agony.

“Ready the cannons,” Steinbach snarled at the sorcerer. “As soon as I get him behind this line, open fire.”

The pale man nodded before immediately relaying the orders while Myanna followed closely behind Steinbach. The men accompanying them led with their shields, using brute force to push through the enemy ranks. Ahead of them, Myanna caught a glimpse of Belias emerging from the hellfire, seemingly unscathed by the flames. A surge of enemy soldiers moved to close the gap and descend upon Belias. Without thinking, Myanna thrust her hand out, hurling a spell in their direction.

“Enridah!” Myanna shouted, placing the spell right at the center of the swell of soldiers. A mass of roots, vines, and all manner of entangling vegetation sprung up from the packed earth of the battlefield to ensnare the legs of the soldiers, immediately halting their progress.

Belias stared in their direction wide-eyed before looking at the mass of plants holding the red-cloaked soldiers at bay. Forming the motion of a spell with his hands, the ritual master let out a colossal gout of flame that overtook everything in front of him in a sixty-foot cone. Though Myanna’s spell was instantly burned away, the men she had captured within it were cooked alive in their armor, their cloaks turning to ash as they scattered to the wind.

Myanna had never seen the man in a fight. She’d hardly ever seen him cast a combat spell. The kind of heat he had conjured reflexively gave her pause, making her wonder if she had vastly underestimated his abilities. Would she have been able to stand up to something as intense as she’d just seen?

“Belias!” Steinbach called, waving with one hand as the soldiers formed a protective wall on either side of the captain and the cuirizu. “This way!”

Belias moved with surprising haste despite his bulk, moving into the protected corridor formed by the soldiers. He spared Myanna a glance as he passed her, a distinctly more intimidating air about him after wielding the flames as he had. The corridor closed up behind Steinbach and Myanna as they followed close behind, and the squad of soldiers fell back.

Once they crossed the line the captain had indicated, the cannons on the hill roared to life, sending a devastating volley into the body of the Crimson Light’s ranks. Now that they had given away their position, the enemy’s focus would be diverted to them as quickly as possible. Myanna didn’t care for firearms in any form for many reasons, not least of which was the thunder that accompanied cannon fire.

“Belias,” Myanna said, grabbing the ritual master’s arm. “Is the prosecutor still up in the manor?”

Turning to look at her and then down at the hand on his arm, Belias sneered before answering. “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t see your prosecutor up there.”

“But the sonic attacks,” Myanna argued as best she could over the sound of another volley of cannon fire and the explosion of spells returning fire. She pulled one of the blue healing potions from her satchel and handed it to him. Though untouched by the intense flames of the sorcerer, he’d suffered a few injuries in the time before that. “We heard them from down here.”

Belias swallowed the potion quickly and shook his head, temporarily forgetting his disdain for the cuirizu. “No, no. That was the judge. They have a judge leading them.”

“Judge Havoc,” Myanna said aloud before snapping her attention toward Steinbach. “Get your men off those cannons before---!”

But it was too late. A powerful, psychically enhanced scream tore through the ranks of the men that had remained on the hill to crew the cannons. Belias hadn’t been coming to join the battle earlier, he had been running away, and he’d kited the judge into their back line in the process. What good was the power he commanded if he simply stumbled around in the dark with it?

“Son of a bitch,” Steinbach gasped in horror as the figure of the judge emerged from the smoke and dust left in the wake of his power. Even from this distance, Myanna could make out most of his features. He was young, powerfully built, in tight black leather armor. The cloak of the order billowed out behind him as his hateful eyes searched the battle below for any sign of the fallen demon Belias had been riding. His  blonde hair was cut short, and black veins ran up the side of his neck to his temples, the mark that his dark powers had left upon his flesh after years of use.

“We must fall back to Willowridge, Captain,” Belias ordered. “Applewood is lost.”

On the hill, the judge’s head turned in a peculiar way that reminded Myanna of an owl. She realized only too late that the man wielding sound also possessed the means to track by it and that he had heard Belias speak to the captain.

“You idiot,” Myanna snapped angrily, taking hold of Belias and pulling him back. The judge bent his knees before shooting through the air across an impossible distance, leaving behind a concussive sound of thunder where he had stood atop the hill. The cuirizu was able to pull the ritual master out of harm’s way just in time, coming to his rescue for the second time in the span of only minutes.

As Steinbach drew his sword to intercept, what looked like the hilt of a broken sword in the judge’s hand suddenly ignited to form a blade of blazing red malice made psychically manifest. The red blade cut clean through Steinbach’s sword as he landed heavily. Though the energy passed through the sword’s steel with ease, it glanced off the armor plating protecting Steinbach’s arm. Evidently, it had enough magic woven into it to spare him the worst of the blow.

Myanna did her best to pull Belias through the crowd of their soldiers as Steinbach attempted to hold off the judge. Brandishing a ring on one hand, a glowing distortion of magic formed in the shape of a massive ram’s head leaped from the ring, slamming its horns into the judge’s body.

Moved only a foot or two from the impact that would have snapped a lesser man in half at the waist, Havoc grinned wickedly at Steinbach. “You must be the new mercenary captain I’ve heard about.”

“Yeah,” Steinbach grunted, lifting a discarded sword off the ground, still covered in the blood of its former owner.

“I’m disappointed,” Havoc mocked, the red glow of his blade lending the black of his gums a certain inky quality.

“I don’t care,” Steinbach answered as he advanced, twirling the sword once to get a sense of his balance before closing the distance. He opened with an expertly executed feint to avoid making contact with the glowing psyblade too soon. But the judge anticipated the maneuver and didn’t take the bait, moving his weapon instead to intercept the strike that followed, cleaving the blade in half once more.

Before the judge could follow up his parry with a strike of his own, Steinbach’s gauntlet hummed, and the broken top half of his blade flew into his hand, which he promptly drove into the man’s midsection like a dagger.

The judge’s eyes widened in surprise as he shoved the man away from him abruptly, looking down at the blade fragment sticking out of his abdomen. Steinbach’s glove hummed once again, a rune on the back of his palm glowing faintly as it did. The blade fragment ripped itself from the flesh of the judge before flying through the air to return to the captain’s outstretched hand.

“H-how?” The judge glowered, pressing his hand to his wound before examining the blood. As much as it hurt, Myanna could tell from where she stood that the damage was mostly superficial. Whatever power allowed Havoc to take the brunt of the force from the magic ring had also partially protected him from the stab.

“You psychics are sloppy,” Steinbach growled like an animal. “Rely on your powers to do everything for you. Guys like me? We’ve been in this game long enough to do all this shit on instinct before you can read us.”

Myanna pried her eyes from the fight to move Belias along, only to see that the man had somehow vanished. Searching the crowd around her, she couldn’t see him. With how chaotic the battle had become, even her height advantage wouldn’t have helped her see the much shorter man if he were standing only a few yards away. He’d keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him, lest he risk Havoc picking him out of the crowd by the sound of his voice again.

Now that she was free of him, she could commit herself to the fight. She adjusted the satchel strap to remove a few potions from within, transferring them to a much smaller pouch on her hip as she stalked back toward Steinbach and the judge. She wanted to know what had become of her prosecutor. If she wasn’t here, perhaps she had been tortured and had information extracted from her by force. Numerous were the tales of the kind of psychic torture that could be inflicted on a prisoner by a judge, all without lifting a finger or damaging the body in any way.

“Armajia,” Myanna intoned as she channeled a spell through the body of her whip with her marked hand to bolster its durability and heighten the properties she had woven into through alchemy. Threads of green shimmered down the length of the whip before slowly fading.

Once she was in range of the fight, Myanna brought the whip around and snapped it between the two combatants as they closed on one another. Both stopped short at the loud crack.

“He’s mine, Steinbach,” Myanna demanded. He stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, not moving a muscle. Her lips twisted into a frown. “You’re needed elsewhere.”

It finally dawned on Steinbach that of the two of them, he was the one with more tactical and logistical experience. He was needed to command their forces, and she was not. Steinbach moved toward her slowly, Havoc’s eyes following his every movement from where he stood. She met his gaze as he passed her. “Take the satchel.”

The captain pulled the satchel strap up over her head before continuing on his way without a word. Myanna let out a sigh as she slowly took Steinbach’s place.

“An unusually noble gesture from an Abyssal,” the judge remarked. “Or is it?”

“I want some answers,” Myanna admitted, not bothering to argue. With his abilities, he would no doubt be able to sense when she was trying to hide something. She had to take a page from Steinbach’s book and try not to overthink everything. She had to allow herself to simply act. In doing so, she hoped to coax some more of the mark’s chaotic powers out to assist her.

“People in hell want ice water,” the judge quipped indifferently. “Wanting something is not enough.”

“Indeed,” Myanna agreed confidently, bringing the whip into a ready position. Her eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze upon the judge, focusing on him to such a degree that the roar of the battle raging around her began to fall away. “Which is why I take what I want.”