That night was the longest night I'd ever experienced in my prolonged life.

I lay awake long after I'd settled into my bed, my gaze fixed upon the ceiling and the watery glow upon it painted by the streetlights. It was silent in the house but for the hushed, fervent whispering of the witch as she tried to contact any sisters who'd escaped the Baba Yaga raid, telling them to flee or to hide, to get out of the city, to stay away from any mages, and to stop using their magic. 

Judging by her smothered weeping, I gathered she was met with limited success. 

The minutes ticked by with agonizing lethargy. My attention remained wholly centered upon the Absolian's wellspring of energy, sensing its every movement as the creature roved Amoroth's city. The Sin and I had wagered my brother wouldn't come to Evergreen Acres—but whenever its overwhelming presence inched closer, my entire body broke out in a cold sweat that would only recede when the presence once more drifted away.

The earliest flight to Itheria wasn't until after dawn. All night I counted my breaths, and wondered how many I had left.

Sara's scent surrounded me, though I'd washed and changed the bedding twice by now. The smell was a phantom conjured by my tired delirium, a torture worsening with every inhalation, a constant reminder of her absence and my continuation. I wished she was there, if only because of her uncanny ability to settle my mind. Her perspective of the world and how she approached complicated issues had reaffirmed my own views, and what I'd once thought were needling, unnecessary questions had given me unfounded clarity.

Cuxiel had often inquired why I hadn't wanted to kill the girl—and, if anything, the clarity she'd created in a world of maddening white noise had been reason enough. 

The time illuminated on the alarm clock flickered, then began to beep. The sound lasted for only a second before I silenced it, already dressed and on my feet. Grim, I dragged a long sleeved shirt over my arms before snatching up my cursory carryon bag and entering the hallway. The witch had managed to finally fall asleep, slumped over her knees, dressed in more of Sara's cast-off clothing. Her mutt dozed at her side.

I didn't hesitate to wake her. "Oi," I snapped, kicking the end of the couch. "Get up!" The woman jerked upright with a strangled cry, and the dog growled, baring teeth. I returned the sentiment.

"What—?!"

"Get up," I repeated as I walked toward the door. "Either we leave now, or you get left behind, witch. Make your choice."

Naturally, Saule chose to come with me, scrambling to shove her feet into her wet shoes and to gather the bag stuffed with more of Sara's things. Neither of us cared if we had a change a clothes or not, but our chances of getting on the plane were unlikely if we raised suspicions by not having luggage.

Amoroth's car was like most of her other cars; low to the ground, crafted with supine lines, and coupled with an obscene price tag. It was black in color, and all the windows were tinted beyond what was considered legal by mortal authorities, though I doubted that had ever come into Amoroth's consideration. The car was new; I had trashed her last one.

The witch opened the backseat and proceeded to usher the dog inside. 

"What are you doing?" I demanded as I slung my bag aside and sunk into the driver's seat, glaring at her. The witch looked at me with tired, guileless green eyes as the dog got into the car. "We can't bring that feathered monstrosity with us! We won't be able to get it on the plane!"

Saule blinked, then rolled her eyes as she got into the passenger's seat. "Don't worry about it. His collar's been enchanted to hide him from human eyes. I mean—look at my poor boy. Can you imagine the stir he'd cause at a dog park or something?"

I was in no mood for the witch's poor humor. "If it causes a delay, I'll leave you at the gate and wash my hands of this matter." I wouldn't waste time on her or the stupid dog.

"It won't be a problem!" The woman waved a hand as I started the car. "Will it, Bram?"

The dog barked in my ear. 

Have patience, I told myself as I angled the car out the drive and did my damnedest to ignore Saule and her mutt. I haven't the time to fight them.

I drove as swiftly as I dared on the slick roads, my gaze upon the horizon as it began to blush with the nascent colors of dawn, the clouds from the previous night gone as if they'd never been. Verweald lurked in the periphery, a blemish of black steel and molten glass against a landscape of green and blue.

I felt the witch's eyes upon my face as we neared the airport and the thready traffic began to thicken. She tried to keep her attention covert, but I saw the way she tensed every time she looked at me, like I was an adder she'd unintentionally grabbed the tail of, and her judgement set my teeth on edge.

"Spit it out, witch," I seethed as Verweald International came within view. Already the skyline was peppered with jets rising from the runway. "Or look away."

Her face reddened. "I wasn't going to say anything."

I ground my teeth, wincing.

"It's just—." Saule gulped, her hands quivering. "Y-you're different. Y-you're not...."

My lip curled. "Not a Sin?" I supplied, fingers tightening upon the wheel. "No, I am not a Sin. Not any longer."

The witch wanted to ask how—why—it'd happened, but she didn't. Saule had enough sense of self-preservation to know better. At least for now.

"I—I could fix your face. It'd only take a second."

"Don't touch me."

The witch opened the glove compartment and began fidgeting with the various papers and accouterments, finding a new roll of medical tape inside. It was odd for Amoroth to have that in there, but I guessed it was for appearance's sake. Lust was an expert at blending in.

Saule had a length of tape stretch out and was scrawling quick runes over the topside, muttering in a language I didn't recognize. It had to be the Esoterica. It was a language that called forth power from a witch's soul, ascribing meaning to a bunch of worthless, nonsense characters and syllables, thus it was unknowable to a Sin or to a mortal. I'd heard it several times over the years, and always it sounded like garbled gibberish.

"Here." She held the talisman out to me by pinching the corner of it. "I won't touch you, you can put it on yourself, b-but that wound is really conspicuous."

I took the talisman, if only because I knew her words to be true. An untreated wound as severe as mine would draw curious eyes from the public transport security, and possibly result in a delay. I slapped the tape across my broken cheek and bore the resulting burn without so much as a grimace, my lack of reaction destroying what little courage the witch had been able to muster.

Honestly, the woman was a witch and lacked all sense of bravery her lineage should have imparted.

We parked the car in one of the airport's lots, assured that Amoroth's flunkies would be along to pick it up eventually, or it'd be towed away. It was little of my concern. The dog followed his master toward the main building and was careful to stay close, as if he understood the necessity of keeping out of the way and out of sight. The witch's enchantment held, as no one so much as glanced toward the mutated animal.

I ripped the talisman off and crumpled it before we entered the main doors. The witch and I came to a line where we had to buy our tickets. I remembered I'd last been to this place with Sara, fleeing from Balthier, and we hadn't needed tickets because we'd coerced our way through the gate. It'd been a taxing feat, but convenient.

I glared at the stodgy woman behind the counter taking money from a slumped business man. The credentials Amoroth gave me better hold up to scrutiny.

"Um...w-what...what happened?" the witch at my side quietly asked. "To Sara?"

I didn't answer.

"What happened to you? None of our histories have ever said anything about demons becoming...human."

I jerked my head, lowering my face towards hers, and caused the blood priestess to jump. "I died," I hissed, letting the hatred I felt for her and her kind shine in my eyes. "Stop asking questions!"

Saule fell into a huffy, tremulous silence, torn between being indignant or terrified as her dog nipped at my pant leg and I resisted the urge to shove it aside. Cursing the fates that saddled me with this addled witch and her four-legged hindrance, I dug through my bag, found a clump of crumpled bills, and waited to be called forward to the counter.

While standing there under the buzzing fluorescents, stalled, intuition honed by a thousand lifetimes of being hunted and stalked had my skin crawling. Nails seemed to drag their crooked edges along my spine as I straightened, keeping my focus on the VWX employee in her blue vest, and used the angled mirrors on the ceiling to peer at the crowd around us.

There weren't many people here at this hour, but Verweald was a technology mecca and attracted swarms of traveling businessmen and women every day. They strode through the terminal with a practiced, bored ease, wearing their rumpled day suits as they chatted through their phones and bemoaned late or canceled flights. As a whole, the business class didn't stand still for long.

Three men in gray coats waited like salt pillars among the tide of white-collar workers, all watching the ticket line. One was thin as a reed and had lank, blond hair. The other two were stockier, one balding, one sporting a thick mustache. All three reeked of the metallic tang of arcane magic.

I sucked air through my teeth. Bloody mages. We'll never make it onto the flight.

"Witch...."

"What?" Saule snapped, arms crossed over her flat chest. "Are you going to play nice now, you rusted antique?"

"Don't ask questions," I intoned, looping my arm through hers as we stepped out of line. The witch convulsed as if being near me was repellent, but I forced her closer, maintaining the charade as we made our way back toward the entrance. "There's mages here."

"Mages?!"

The ground rumbled below as the jets beyond the terminal screamed across the runway. At the next junction, I again looked at the mirrors positioned by the security cameras—and spied the same men following at a discreet distance.

"Yes, mages. Three of them. Maybe more. They're following us."

I had to get back to the car. I considered ditching Saule and making a run for it, but such behavior would only warrant more suspicion and expedited action on the mages' part. Without a doubt they were here for the blood priestess, but they wouldn't let me get by, not after seeing me in her company, and leaving Saule would also leave me utterly powerless.

Weak-kneed as she was, Saule was still a witch with an arsenal of spells I lacked.

"Dammit," I said as I urged us into a faster walk.

"We should run," Saule breathed, looking over her shoulder as I towed her along. "The two flash-bangs on the left are sages, but the third is a twitch-finger. We're almost within reach of his spells."

Swallowing a growl of frustration, I shoved us both over the terminal's threshold and back into the weak light of the dawn. A bleary-eyed tourist tripped and slung his luggage across the egress, providing just enough distraction for the witch and me to start jogging.

"They wouldn't dare use their magic in the open," I replied, yanking my arm free of hers. "Not now."

"No, they don't care!" Saule picked up her pace, the dog running alongside her. "In fact—they're doing the exact freakin' opposite! Haven't you seen all the explosions and all the chaos in the streets? The flash-bangs are causing as much havoc as they can in Verweald to keep the Absolian's attention here! If it's here, it's not in Itheria!"

I blinked. That hadn't occurred to me.

Shit.

The first spell winged past me and struck a Buick's side, cracking glass and metal alike. A hard gel spread from the point of impact, forming thick veins of a cement-like material over the vehicle's dented frame.

"By the Seven—what is that?!"

I threw myself into a run as the next spell struck the pavement at my feet, scattering chunks of asphalt. Faster than a typical mortal, I overtook the witch and managed to shove her between a minivan and a sedan before another of those strange, congealing spells could hit her in the back. It landed on the minivan and instantly began to form that thick, pebbled shell.

It's some kind of immobilizer, I realized as I spared just enough time to watch the crenelations spread. But if they hit me in the chest or the head, it could crush the life out of me before they get it off.

"Stay low," I barked at Saule as we ducked our heads and ran at a crouch, hands outstretched to the cars on either side of us for balance. The witch and her dog remained inches behind me as I weaved a wayward path through the parked vehicles, the mages cursing in our wake, ducking from car to car in search.

I stumbled once over a full, hot soda someone had abandoned by their car—and I hefted the thing, throwing it toward the next lane of parked vehicles. A window broke and an alarm screamed, catching the eye of the hunting mages. Saule and I sprinted across the lane to Amoroth's car.

"There—they're there!"

"Oh, break my branch!" the witch squeaked as we flung open the doors and I jammed the keys into the ignition. The dog crawled past his owner and fell into the backseat with a womp as I threw the gear into reverse, hunched over the wheel when another spell rocked the car, and stomped on the gas pedal.

One of the mages shouted as he jumped out of the bumper's path, ruining his prepped spell. The gears groaned when I thrust the car into drive, the wheels screaming on the damp pavement as we gathered momentum and lurched into motion. The reedy, long-haired mage stood in our way, a red script of burning runes draped in his outstretched hands as he stared the car down. I swung the wheel wide, forcing the bastard to leap aside or be reduced to pulp.

Saule had her hands braced on the dash and squealed when I drove over a curb and swerved into the line of traffic on the highway. Horns blared as others swerved to avoid collision.

"They were after you!" I snarled at the witch as I resituated myself in the seat, both hands holding the wheel in a death grip. Saule—white in the face and wide-eyed—scrambled to put her seatbelt on. "Because you couldn't leave well enough alone and had to use your magic to heal my face!"

We were southbound on the highway, cutting straight through the main cluster of Verweald's suburban tracts. The industrial heart rose in the distance before us like a barricade, the Absolian's presence a ubiquitous fog clinging to those steely buildings.

I gunned the engine.

The nearest airport aside from VWX was LAX in Los Angeles—but heading there would put us firmly in Gray Arcanum territory, and I doubted our luck finding a flight out of the city would be any better.

The best option would be to drive.

"The Pit take those spark throwing bastards!" I raged. Three thousand miles of unspun highways and passes separated me from the mage city on the east coast. It would take days to traverse. Days.

"D-Darius...."

How long until Cage went on trial? He managed to escape Blue Fire before, but could he do it again? Would he disappear?

"Demon!"

"What?" I snapped at the witch as she tugged my sleeve. She was twisted in the seat, staring behind us through the rear window, brown curls surrounding her head in a frazzled veil.

"They're following us."

I lifted my gaze to the rearview mirror. I spotted the two silver cars darting from lane to lane at reckless speeds, paint gleaming in the first light of day.

"I see them."

"Well what are we going to do about them?!"

I didn't reply. Instead, I tugged upon the wheel and the car responded, veering around a rust spotted tanker. Its horn blasted a low, dull bellow as I cut it off and eased the car's acceleration.

"What are you doing?!" Saule cried. "Don't slow down!"

"Whatever happens," I ordered, waiting for the mages to catch up. "Don't use magic."

"What—?!"

"Don't use magic."

The first silver car came roaring into view. Spotting us, the driver slowed, and the mage passenger clamored halfway out the window with a prepped rune clasped in his fist. I hit the accelerator again and Amoroth's car jumped forward, barely missing the hurled stone. The rune bounced off the bumper with an ear-piercing shriek and the tanker's horn blasted again.

"Oh, coven save me," the witch wheezed, holding the door and the dash for dear life. "This madman's going to get us killed!"

The second car appeared, swerving from the far lane to the one adjacent to mine as both mage vehicles attempted to pin us in place. Though I could see the men spinning more spells, I kept my eyes straight ahead.

"Demon—!"

"King's breath, I see them!" I shouted, throwing my weight from the gas pedal to the brake. "Let me concentrate, witch!"

The mages weren't quite stupid enough to be outsmarted by such a simple maneuver, but the car on the right had to jerk itself out of position when its spell went wild, cracking the road with an explosion of yellow sparks and scarlet fractals.

The metallic twang of the magic was so strong I could feel it in my teeth.

"Third car!" came Saule's sudden yell.

"Third—?!"

Indeed, the script shielding a third car from my view disintegrated like old paint peeling from a wall—and I swore when the next spell hit the back window with tremendous force. Glass rained on my head and pinged off the side of my neck.

Revving the engine, I forced us between two civilian vans, snapping mirrors in our passage. Warmth trickled from my skin and soaked into the collar of my t-shirt. The mutt was barking—barking and howling, licking his mistress's pale, shocked face as she clutched her bloody arm. I chanced a glance at Saule, and saw red veins of lightning paralyzing the limb as the open gash wept.

The speedometer swept past one hundred miles an hour. Wind pouring through the broken window stole my breath as the city's heart rose around us, Klau Tower looming like a spire threatening the sun.

Tires screeched as the mages swung into view again, all three vehicles closing it.

"We won't get away," Saule panted, eyes screwed shut against pain. "They're too close—."

"Just wait."

"They're casting—!"

"Just wait."

The mages cast their next volley. I swerved, moving with reckless intent from one lane to the next, and was able to avoid two of the spells, but the third collided with the back of the car and sent a spiral of electricity through the metal frame. The computer sputtered but managed to stay functional.

The next attack was coming. I knew it was—could feel the willful culmination of their strange power coming together in a veritable storm of apoplectic size, but there was another storm circling overhead, and its fury couldn't be stopped by mere mages.

I hit the gas again, pulling ahead.

Sensing the growing energy, the Absolian did exactly as I knew he would; like a bolt of lightning, he fell from the sky and smashed the first car beneath his abnormal weight, slinging his power into the second and third vehicle. Cracks spiraled outward from the wreckage as he ripped the mages apart with half a thought, sedans careening through the air, fire bursting to life as the gas tanks ignited.

The explosion sent other drivers diving for off-ramps and shoulders—but I kept our course steady, listening to the rapid thunder of my heart as the building inferno shrank behind us. Already the black plumes ascended to stain the heavens as a single figure parted the smoke and stepped from the blaze.

Despite the growing distance between us, I could almost feel my brother's gaze upon me as the miles whipped by and Verweald's skyline was devoured.

Aurelius didn't give chase, but I knew it wouldn't be the last I saw of him.