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It was difficult to see someone who insisted on the benefits of a balanced diet and inquired about her taste for grilled spinach as a lethal threat. Constance would have been more suspicious if Ariane had been squeaky clean, but the Hand of the Accords (or the Boom Girl depending on whom you asked) made no secret about ‘the murders’ as she said, even directing Constance in the direction of her secret archives. Every accusation was either met by simple questions that undermined Constance’s entire argument, or were met by a thoughtful ‘hmmmm’.

“You could have left the factory to his son. It wasn’t fair for you to buy it at such a low price.”

“Even if it would have been repossessed two weeks later by the Bank of Missouri?”

“Well, errr, that is, no of course not! Not like that.”

“Hmmmm.”

Or that time she had learned about a wholesale massacre.

“You could have just let them go! They were no longer a threat to you. To kill them all to the last was cruel, and an unnecessary loss of life.”

“Then you were fine with the execution of June’s family? Since they knew she was a werewolf.”

“No! Wait, you could have just brainwashed them!”

“Brainwash five years of dogged pursuit — excuse the pun — and leave them as lobotomized simpletons. I thought it was more cruel.”

“How about… paying them off?”

Ariane didn’t immediately comment about the astuteness of bribing bounty hunters who would sell their own mothers for three pennies and a beer, expecting them to respect their own promise.

“Hmmm,” she finally said.

“Augh!”

The most annoying aspect was that Ariane never argued, and that the underlying message could not be clearer to Constance. If she were there, she could influence the vampire’s decisions. It had been made obvious not just by the vampire but also by the quiet titan John who never told a lie, and even by that Isaac fellow whom she had officially hired to answer her questions.

Those were the minor operations, most of them related to maintaining the peace, thwarting Integrist encroachement near her territory, or just taking revenge on people who mostly deserved it. The main attraction remained the constant war against dead world raids, a merciless conflict that spanned the entire continent and that Ariane spent most of her time managing, either directly or through her many allies. A quick skim of the reports revealed that the raids had been gaining in intensity though reducing in scope after several devastating losses. It seemed the foe had picked up on the vampires’ ability to detect portals as they opened. Nevertheless, the losses the invaders were willing to withstand stunned her. Ariane, however, had a plan, one she remained particularly tight-lipped about. It was the only exception to her rule.

“I do not discuss ongoing operations with someone who might not be involved,” she had said from the recess of a comfortable couch in her office. “Not even Constantine will be spared from this rule. No exceptions.”

The vampire felt more raw in the late hours of the afternoon. More tired. There were pockets under her eyes while her skin tone felt more sickly than the usual delicate alabaster. The sun, it seemed, never truly released its hold. She moved less as well.

“I thought you would keep no secrets from me?”

“I keep no secret when it comes to my past deeds,” Ariane said, leaning forward with a stern expression. “The secrets of others that could endanger them if known, and personal issues are off limits. Those play no role in your… project to unearth every detail of my life for unethical behavior. Please respect those boundaries.”

Constance felt a little chastened when she realized she had pushed Ariane to the limit. The vampire was strangely tolerant of mortals in many ways, especially if she saw them as belonging to her. The automobile revolution provided ample proof of that. It stopped at some point and past that, she was without mercy. A staff member had been caught trying to sell secrets to government agents a few years back. He had been summarily executed. No second chances. This at least, Constance could understand. Mages would be persecuted without mercy if they were not willing to go to certain lengths to defend themselves.

“What if I were to join you?” she asked.

Ariane gave it some thought.

“You are trained well enough, I suppose.”

“I meant as your Vassal.”

Constance found herself the center of attention of a creature whose attention was potentially deadly, yet she did not feel threatened. The old vampire just waited, quiet and quiescent in the dying hours of the day. She could have been a statue.

“I mean it. I have seen what you are trying to do, I suppose, and even if you were hiding things from me, it wouldn’t matter much. I am still not exactly sure how Vassals help, though Master Isaac tried his best to explain. I don’t see the value of being more human. I mean, do you really need it? Wait, don’t answer that. I have seen what you are trying to do. I believe I understand. And if by joining you as a partner, I can protect earth from its most dangerous adversaries, I will do so gladly. It has been months. I believe that I still do not know who you really are, but your actions speak for you and in your favor. I will assist you.”

Ariane nodded, slowly.

“Very well. Then there is the matter of sealing the pact. You need to drink my blood to forge this alliance.”

“Oh… does it hurt?”

“No.”

Ariane calmly slid a claw over her wrist, splitting her pale skin. Black blood slowly welled on its surface. Constance approached and kneeled, pressing her lips to the already closing gash. The blood was cold and thick like syrup. It seeped down her throat like liquid ice.

“Why is it… spicy?”

The vampire blinked.

“What?”

“It tastes spicy.”

Constance licked her lips.

“Not bad at all, in fact. Very unusual. Will it turn to ash in my stomach?”

“Constance, as much as I appreciate your trust in this matter, this is not a tasting session.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I wish your generation had a little bit more decorum, but I digress.”

“And also you’re not the best person to talk about decorum, pirate queen.”

“It’s Dread Pirate Queen to you, and how are tricorns not a proof of proper... Urg, it has already started.”

“What could you possibly mean?”

“The sass.”

***

The dead world spread all around, a vast expanse of gray and ochre under a cloudy sky. The wind here was cold and persistent, though never violent. The mana here was dead and its lack, oppressive. The air smelled of perpetual ash. In contrast to the morose, unchanging nature of the place, the Accords base camp swarmed with activity. Men and women loaded the carriage train, orders fusing left and right. The uniforms spoke of the presence of many factions and they formed an eclectic bunch, but unerring discipline turned them into a careful dance instead of a mess. Constance looked front to her commanding officer, then to Ariane by her side. Several vampires stood at attention by the side, and they were more diverse than she would have expected. There was John in his titanic dark iron armor but also Urchin with his ever-changing blade, then a black woman in close-fitting mail wielding a spear. A large hispanic warrior in full plate wearing a massive sword stood next to a short fencer with a square jaw and a strangely wavy sword. In total, there were almost two dozen war-trained vampires in attendance.

As for the humans, they numbered in the thousands.

The officer, a burly man with gray hair in an actual army uniform, spoke first. His words carried over the general hum of activity. As soon as he started speaking, the rest of the army fell silent.

“Gentlemen! And ladies, I suppose. I’m sure you’re all wondering why the secrecy, so I’ll tell you now. As of a month ago, the Dalton’s Vengeance spotted the liches’ main base in North America.”

A wave of susurrus surged from the ranks, with many turning to their friends.

“Silence,” a woman’s voice said, quieting everyone instantly.

“This is no time for gossip,” the officer continued. “You know the deal. Those monsters are using that place as a staging ground to unleash their slave raiding parties on our land, kidnapping left and right. They’ve eluded us for years with their clever use of this world’s terrain but we spotted them in a caldera not far from here, and now, we got them.”

A low rumble rose from a thousand angry throats. This time, the vampire didn’t interrupt.

“We’re going to march there, liberate the captives, raze it to the ground, and kill every last fucker who thought they could ravage our earth.”

This time the roars were louder but the general quieted them with a gesture.

“The plan is simple. You will march with your company at the edge of the caldera then walk along it until you are in position. Your approach will be covered by our irregulars…”

His eyes flickered to Ariane who was even now decked in her otherworldly armor.

“Under no circumstances should you shoot your gun. We must not let the enemy know they are found out until the very last moment. If you are found by hounds, fix bayonets and take them down. You will not fire unless expressly ordered to do so, am I clear?”

“Sir yes sir!”

“Good. Once you are in position, a signal will be given and you will walk over the edge then down on the base according to your CO’s orders. Those of you who’ve never fought with the cold ones, remember to seek cover in the thorns.”

Part of the army looked on in confusion while the rest chuckled. Someone next to Constance brushed off a rookie’s question.

“You’ll see. Can’t miss it.”

No one spoke in Constance’s squad. They were all scarred veterans, and the speech had not affected them. Instead, they searched the horizon for signs of hostility. Constance thought some of them might be searching their own ranks, too.

She was no idiot. The squad had accepted her as their mage with no questions, no comments, not even a remark that she was a young woman. She could tell they were bodyguards almost at a glance. Their presence comforted her, but not as much as Ariane’s next words. A sound enchantment carried her voice to Constance’s ears.

“I have ordered John to look after you. He will protect your life as if it were my own.”

“It will be done,” the colossus rumbled with unshakeable conviction.

“I must leave you now. You will be in good hands but you will also be in a battle. Keep your eyes open and ready.”

With this, Ariane moved to the back of the formation where her flying warship was waiting. The rest of the army moved out immediately, their progress made easier by the lack of need for a road. There were no forests to block the path here. They could spread out as much as they wanted. Or they would if it were not the wildlife.

The most boring yet stressful part of any battle started there. The soldiers walked in columns under a cloud of dust from the forward elements. Warned, Constance had brought a shawl to wrap around her nose. The grit still stung her eyes when the wind picked up.

“Why are we wearing winterized stuff? It’s so hot in here,” someone said to her right.

“Trust me you’ll regret it if you don’t,” a veteran replied.

Constance assumed it was for those who would end up fighting next to Ariane, though perhaps having the entire army wear hot garments was a waste. There were probably considerations she didn’t know. Or perhaps it was not related to Ariane at all, and she was blowing her new partner’s importance out of proportion.

Her thoughts grew muddled and she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Minutes blurred into hours. Squads stopped only once to drink and attend to natural needs. She could see John moving by her left flank, sometimes. The right flank was covered by more soldiers she could shake a stick at. Mundane ones.

Close to noon, the ground started to rise. They came across crevices and broken

earth that forced the columns to split. Strange, spine-like formation of white rock sprang from the earth like rotten bone from a cadaver. The barren soil turned a deeper shade of red until her boots and the entire landscape appeared rusty and pitted. They came across gutted hounds including a broodmother sometime later. By early afternoon, the slope was clear. She could spot a large, circular elevation in front of them through gaps in the cracked terrain. They were almost there.

Groups stopped to eat cold rations before the last stretch. Constance was so nervous she could barely taste anything. Then it was time to climb. Hers was not the first group to reach the top, but it was still early. She and others crawled on their bellies as they approached the hidden base after a couple of powerful mages gave her to go ahead. Apparently, the liches had alarms but the forces of Earth were ready for them.

She watched on while the rest of the army deployed along the edge of a massive crater.

The liches were canny, she had to give it to them. The base was formed from low buildings topped by gray roofs indistinguishable from the surrounding ash. Kennels and barracks formed a side while a training field and prisoner cages formed the other, the entire complex ending with a couple of large buildings that might be armories or administrative centers. A large portal occupied the center of the compound, though it was deactivated at the time. She could not see much more from where she was, a quarter of a mile away. What surprised her the most was the lack of sentries. Or perhaps the liches relied on the hounds to warn them and the vampires had eliminated that resource before they could realize it.

It took a few long, agonizingly slow minutes for everyone to get in position. Constance felt so tense her teeth ached. She couldn’t wait for everything to start. And then, it did.

“Starfall, forty seconds,” someone screamed.

Immediately, whistles trilled along the edge of the caldera. Trumpets echoed it, soon answered by a thousand throats heralding the imminent violence. Constance’s ear rang from the clamor. Behind her, the thump of distant mortars provided a low drum. The barracks in front of her were hit. Plumes of smoke started to rise.

Constance stood and ran with the other, the acrid air burning her throat as it didn’t seem she could gulp enough of it.

“Shouldn’t we stay in cover?” she asked no one in particular.

“Cover doesn’t work against liches,” the officer replied.

She kept running. Far to her right, a detachment of transformed werewolves took over their formation to engage a flow of hounds gathering towards them. The army ate up the distance, never slowing, far too close for an optimal engagement range, Constance thought.

“Twenty seconds to starfall!” a communication mage said.

And then she had trouble thinking.

It started with silence. Constance gasped when the voice was taken from her throat and the thunder of hundred of feet were replaced by an oppressive, quiet. Her steps faltered. Looking around, most people had it worse. They all struggled to take a step with some falling to their knees. Others persevered with grim expressions, eyes forward. Constance faced the base and saw why.

Almost lazily, an inhumanly large skeleton rose from the base with sinuous grace. The top was humanoid and garbed in fineries, but the lower part was a titanic, skeletal snake tail of biblical proportions. That lich was not just massive, it had a presence, a pull on its surroundings that arrested an entire army. Constance felt its baleful weight on her psyche. She fought the urge to scream when it spoke in her head.

“THE CATTLE CAME.”

Constance growled just so she could hear the muted sound in her ear. Had to fight it. Parlor trick, nothing more. She was better than this.

Her gaze traveled to the blue flame in those empty cavities. They were looking at everything and nothing. Constance refused to let herself be controlled, not by it, and not by anyone. It was just a pile of bones. Not a god.

“SHEEP DELIVER THEMSELVES TO US. MARVELOUS.”

There was only one explanation. That lich was… a single number. The most powerful of their kind. She recognized it from reports of survivors from the Austrian army. The Devil of Warsaw. Number Six. It was here. To take revenge?

It didn’t matter. Had to break free.

And she knew how.

It was a lie, all of it.

“Lions… have no need to hide,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

She didn’t know how, yet the simple statement of fact broke the hold Six had on her. Humans were not cattle, liches were not lions, because humans were attacking and liches were hiding.

It was just as simple as that.

A ripple shook the human army, centered on her. The wave of disbelief spread out like a droplet falling on a placid lake, freeing them of the monster’s control. Constance felt an ephemeral sense of triumph when her comrades in arms stood up and walked. More shells fell on the base. She could hear the distant roars of werewolves again. The spell was broken.

“Five, four,” a voice counted from the side.

Her relief was short-lived. Six pointed a finger at her.

“YOU DIE FIRST.”

A figure landed in front of her, interposing a shield covered in runes that could probably withstand a battleship round, yet Constance knew it wouldn’t be enough.

“Two.”

Red lightning gathered in Six’ bony palm. The air above it shattered on complex curves and angles that hurt her eyes.

“One.”

The lich grinned at her, or at least it felt that way. More liches flew up from the wounded compound wielding orbs and staves fueled with stolen lifeforce. There were a few of them.

“Zero.”

A meteor clipped Six’s shield. The base exploded. Or at least, that’s how it felt. Constance fell to her knees from the impact, and she wasn’t the only one. She looked up expecting heat and thunder but found a burst of cold air and an expanding wall of thorns.

Starting at the epicenter, the redwood-sized growths climbed to the sky as fast as waves crashing on a shore, covering the crumbling walls below layer by layer. The center was already taller than most buildings and it just kept spreading. Constance suddenly understood what the veterans meant. As strange as it felt… this was safety. She rushed forward with the others as fast as her legs would carry her. Beyond, there was already a battle.

The forest swallowed her and her squad. It was cold as winter here and the air carried the crisp, clean scent of a December night. Spider fingers of ice writhed on the crevices of the dead world though it did not quite feel like that anymore, and Constance soon realized why. The mana was back. She could freely breathe again. She could also cast again. The forest had freed her. Constance ran through the corridor of twisted roots. Small, white flowers provided enough light to see from. She heard gunshots to the side.

The tunnel turned unexpectedly and they found their first cages. Constance did not need to think. She rushed to the nearest lock and started casting.

“Reveal. Ah, here we go.”

A few expert casts cut the lines of the defensive ward. The threads were sloppy yet strong, an amateur working with the amazing power of lifeforce. It still made her glad humans had not found how to use it.

“I can’t get this thing open!” a member of her squad said. The people in the cages egged them on in a mix of languages. They were filthy and looked malnourished.

“Try this one,” she said to the man who held a crowbar. “I popped the defenses. Work on the ones I’ve weakened.”

“Understood.”

The squad worked fast under the cover of the forest. Civilians were soon free.

“Mi hijo!” a rail-thin woman screamed as she gripped her wrist with desperat strength, “Ellos tienen a mi hijo!”

“No time!” a man said, taking her away.

“Go for the guns. Get out of here!” Constance screamed.

They’d just be fuel otherwise.

Constance realized they’d just rescued their first victims. It felt right.

“Let’s keep going!”

A new tunnel opened, carrying them where they were needed. The sounds of battle raged all around them. The curtain of roots once more fell away to reveal another squad being overwhelmed by hounds.

Constance saw soldiers at the edge of the forest firing on a veritable tide of flesh supported by enemy slingers. There were uniformed bodies on the ground. Blood. Someone was about to get killed. Ariane’s Magna Arqa had carried them here just in time.

Constance wondered how much of it was conscious as she lined up her brand new revolver, Ariane’s gift of course. Somehow, it felt light and she felt more in control, faster. She could perceive everything that was happening. It was almost easy.

Constance pulled the trigger and managed the recoil with more ease than expected. Her target opened like a blood flower, petals of stripped flesh peeling off near her allies.

“Hoooly shit,” a burly man said, then he kept reloading.

Constance felt the squad leader jump on her to cover her and went with the flow, recovering on a thornless root. She lined up another shot and killed another hound. The squad jumped to cover along with her.

“Right, right, stretch the line!” an officer said.

Other squads were emerging from the maze of thorns and opening fire immediately. A line of smoke and fury formed at the forest’s edge, mowing down the approaching hounds under a hail of lead. Machine gun teams set up as quickly as they could. The Earth army was stabilizing until an explosion took half a squad. Other humans were falling from stones slung by the enemy footmen.

“We need cover. I’ll do it,” her squad leader said.

The grizzled man licked his lips, sweat covering his brow, He grabbed a hanging branch and pressed his thumb on a jutting spine. Blood pearled on the needle-thin end.

“Cover, cover, cover, I need cover.”

Thorns awkwardly moved to form a hedge of sorts. It was imperfect but it was better than nothing. Soldiers repositioned.

“We’ll take care of the beasts, can you fend off their infantry?” the squad leader said.

Constance nodded. It was cold here and filled with exactly what she was good at: ice with a bit of dream, or mental magic as they called it. She was in her element.

Magic answered her like never before. It was not just the ambient mana. Something in her had settled and now she felt abnormally strong, much stronger than she should be at this stage of her life. Power answered more readily, bent more easily. It was less a change in her and more a change in how the world reacted to her. The result was the same.

“Grasp of the ice wolf.”

A blizzard rose and fell, smothering the enemy troops. The wind howled and spat flecks of sharpened ice on the ranks of slingers. Attacks ceased but Constance did not let up.

“I can only keep this up for a little while,” she said.

“That’s fine!”

Now free of the covering fire harassing them, the human soldiers were free to line their shots. The effects grew more devastating as more and more squads joined the fray. Some of the hounds diverted to her ice storm and would emerge energized, faster and deadlier, but not bulletproof.

“It’s fine!” the squad leader reassured her.

“I can’t hold it,” Constance stated.

Despite her increased power, there was a limit to what she could achieve. The blizzard died down and Constance prepared to warn that return fire would soon resume. She quickly realized she was wrong.

“Wow… I think I killed them.”

Normally, her spell merely slowed and disabled, then Boone would turn it into a hell of mist. Here though, the temperature had dropped enough to leave behind nothing but frozen bodies half buried under a crystalline layer. Constance felt her stomach lurch but fought it off. Now was not the time. She felt pressure increasing and an itch between her shoulder blades.

“Incoming!” she said, and dived.

Only those nearby heeded her call but it saved them. Obsidian shards fell on the human ranks, eliciting cries of pain. The roots proved resilient enough to block them or the toll would have been much easier. A lich flew into view. Thankfully, it was a lesser one, for a certain definition of lesser.

The bones were whiter, newer than the others. Whatever preserving method the monsters used to keep themselves intact over the eons had not quite taken in. Constance knew what it meant. The Last City was making more liches, sucking earth dry to do so. Bunch of locusts.

Just as the obsidian lich landed in front of them, a form in black armor smashed into its shield. Constance could only see a flurry of hammer blows pushing the foe out of view, sending it crashing in nearby buildings.

“The hell was that?” the squad leader asked while the humans resumed firing.

“John. We’re… damn, there is another.”

A skeletal figure in golden armor descended over the battlefield in front of it, clinging to appearance despite the circumstances. Constance wasn’t sure, but she thought the two dozens battle-ready masters and lords descending upon them might count as ‘an emergency’, yet that idiot was still trying to impress. And it would work because they had nothing to oppose it. She needed help. Or at least, a shield. Without hesitation, she planted a finger on a nearby thorn.

The reaction told her it might have been a mistake.

While the thorns had sluggishly reacted to her squad leader, they pulsed and writhed as soon as her blood touched the cold bark. A shockwave spread through the nearby vegetation, contracting it until a single tendril as tall as a church erupted from the dusty stone, slamming the lich down like a flyswatter. Constance fell on her ass and cowered because it was not over yet. A terrible, terrifying roar of anger shook the air, calling on the part of Constance’s brain that remembered when mankind was not the animal kingdom’s deadliest species quite yet. It seized her chest in its icy grip. She had to look around. Find the threat. Run. Her throat was dry. Her heart struggled to escape against her ribs.

“Fuck.”

A dragon landed on the recovering lich.

There was nothing more accurate to describe the monstrous statue of pale stone bowling against the caster with unabated fury. A hurricane of claws met a deluge of obsidian, each regenerating as fast as the other, then an armored statue with a battleaxe attacked the lich from behind. The creature, perhaps feeling it was overwhelmed, rose in the air while a pulse of lifeforce magic pushed the constructs away. It lifted both hands to form a gash in reality above its head, then a third statue shot it in the head.

The projectile pierced the weakened shield while the lich was distracted, causing the gash to destabilize and eat one of the lich’s hands. Despite damage to its skull, the monster was very much alive and screaming. It screeched more when the statue shot it a second time.

It was a man in leather coverall wearing a tricorn. The statue engaged the lich but for a brief instant, the man in coverall flipped his old-fashioned pistol as it turned to her. Perfectly sculpted eyes found Constance.

Inexplicably, the statue winked.

And then, it shot the lich again.

***

It feels good to let go.

No more politics, no more family drama, no more dealing with disappointing actors of the dark world’s stage whose interests need to be handled with diplomacy. No careful dance while disaster lurks in the shadows. No more bridles. No more taxes, no more paperwork, no more laws, no more waiting. Just me, and that bony prey over there. Number Six.

I stand up from the crater and laugh, feeling the Magna Arqa expanding unrestrained. I recognize that lich. Last time we met, he was playing with Viktoriya until I shoved a homemade artillery shell into his aura. I seem to remember having turned his palace into finely baked powder with a lifeforce-based explosive.

He seems to remember me as well.

“YOU!!!”

“I have had a long month so… please attempt to make this interesting.”

“ARROGANCE!”

A crimson thunderbolt pierces the mirage I left behind but I am already moving and encircling the creature’s powerful shield with Rose, shredding it as I go. We have found no way to pierce those constructs before weakening them first and I suspect we never may. It matters not. My soul blade sings a dirge as it rips the construct apart layer by layer. More fast attacks come from the serpent lich, hitting mirages, the growing thorns, the places where he thinks I might go. He is just far too slow and the shield overheats around an ellipse.

“BURN!”

A wave of pure heat explodes from the creature. The nearest roots are vaporized in an instant.

“Polar midnight.”

My Likaean spell calls on the surroundings and the tiny star of the lich’s wrath rages over an infinite field of uncaring cold. There is always more dark, more empty, more entropy for my foe to consume themselves over. There will always be more thorns for them to hack at until they realize the vines are without numbers. I dive under the cover of spikes and let the lich rage on, feeling my minions spreading over the camp in a pitch battle to the death. Both Nami and Suarez have already dispatched their first foe in moments.

“STOP HIDING!”

Number Six suddenly blurs and becomes much faster. It manages to locate me somehow and I find myself running as fast as I can to avoid the onslaught of scarlet rays. He falls for more mirage, but one of the spell hits the Aurora near my leg and damages it.

“Darkness.”

The lich speaks but I cannot understand his words, garbled as they are. He somehow managed to accelerate time around himself, it seems. That cannot be cheap. A cruel red light disperses my spell and the hunt is on again, but when he finds me, I have prepared a countermeasure. Thankfully, I prepared something for fast adversaries that I might as well try with this one. Let us just say that Loth does good work.

I pull the trigger of the aptly named Nemesis to unload a deluge of enchanted silver into the quickly moving lich. Amusingly, it does not seem used to fighting this sort of battle. I do not truly need to be faster. I merely have to keep the barrel mostly aligned. The magic of muzzle velocity rings the shield like a bell, then the hastening spell ends before my supply of bullets does and I drop the Nemesis to the waiting roots below. As satisfying as it is to see technology prevail over long dead skeletons, those bullets are quite expensive. And the temperature keeps dropping.

“ANNOYING!”

Number Six sings as I attack. His voice is guttural, primal, calling to a long dead land. His staff shines with vital energy. It will call back this great corpse between our feet to life where it lands to unleash its rage once more. The staff launches downward and lands with a thunderous blast, and then the spell… peters out.

“Do you not understand yet?” I ask with some surprise. “There is no earth below.”

“PRIMITIVE TRICKS.”

Not primitive. Primal. We stand in my domain. There is no dead world around us. This is all me.

The lich slows down more as it calls another massive spell. I test a few shield breakers made by Dvergur but without much success. Rose seems to do the best job at grinding down the shield. Rose, and the cold. Blue, striated cracks worm their way through the shield. Perhaps its life-fuelled nature attracts the embrace of winter more than pure aura would. I keep moving and fighting, sending the occasional spell as well, though few really matter. I let my statues support my allies as well.

At one point, I taste Constance’s blood but she does not feel in danger and I let her fight her battle, confident in my allies. I am relentless. The lich climbs, the thorns climb with him. He burns them, they regrow. He chases me and I run around, still shredding him, still taking apart that stolen life piece by piece, victim by victim. I peel him off like an onion. Power bleeds with every tooth raking against the smooth shield, gnawing on it like a fresh bone. The marrow is within reach, I can feel it. A strange starfall of white light is one of the monster’s last, desperate attempts. The projectiles fall downward and seem to breach through everything so I do not fight them, instead making sure I have no allies on their path. The shield starts to crack. Finally, it happens. A small crack. This is the signal I had been waiting for.

As one, the largest roots I have snap into the sphere all at once. It cracks like an egg and I am on the lich before it can move. My claws grab cloth. I can see the small inscriptions on its ancient skull… but then it disappears.

With one last pull, the lich reappears a hundred yards above my head. It immediately takes off, flying at great speed.

I watch it look back with naked hatred, but it sees I am not following and keeps going. That is why it misses the shape of the Dalton’s Revenge diving from the cloud cover. The Dvergur skipper calmly aligns the sight on the main gun before firing, showing remarkable patience and restraint.

Number Six disappears in a cloud of incandescent light.

It is done.

***

It takes quite a bit of time for us to process all we have found. The recently freed mortals inform us that the portal at the center of the base leads to the Last City, though it remains blissfully shut while we disable some of the key components. Following that, we recover no less than three hundred captives. Constance takes an active role in helping them adjust thanks to a benevolent application of her mind magic to calm them down. We also avoid deaths thanks to a few White Cabal healers, who inform us that eating solids will kill some of the weakest survivors. I did not know that.

We find archives that show how many thousands of victims escaped us, taken to the Last City for processing. They are definitely dead. I find Constance a little later as we prepare to leave.

“Did you make me stronger?”

“Yes, as a side effect of one of my captured bloodlines and, I assume, your own nature as well.”

“Sweet. As for your offer… so long as you stand for what you have stood for today, you got yourself a deal. And if you stray, well, I will be here to remind you.”

“That is acceptable.”