Xanthy squirmed in her bonds, the cords biting her skin and leaving it stinging. Damn, those spirits did their job and did it well. Her stomach still churned at what happened with Kymalin. The image of the knife burying itself on her thigh, the blood and pain that came with it, and the banshee's manic grin still burned in Xanthy's mind and sent panic to her throat.

Kymalin Iaro. She didn't deserve to be saved.

Silence bled around the tent as Xanthy gritted her teeth and tugged at her bonds. No use. She's stuck. Xanthy gazed at the tent flap, the outside world mocking her just by existing a few paces away from her. How many hours has it been? How many hours were left before the Necrom overwhelmed the Temple of Souls? How many were left before it would be too late for the brownies?

She needed to get out of here. Find Cyrdel and Ravalee. Find the thief. Get back to the Temple. Defeat Kymalin. Release the shadows. Live happily ever after.

It's that simple.

It sure as hell wasn't easy to do.

Xanthy craned her neck at the tent flap once again. It didn't appear that Kymalin left someone at camp due to the silence around her. There were no crunching leaves and only the wind's whispers made the trees' canopies rustle and the cloth in Xanthy's tent flap. Xanthy looked around for the nth time and like all the other times she did, she concluded that there was nothing that could help her cut those bonds. No knife. No sharp things.

Only magic.

The reckless side of Xanthy's brain took over. Who cares if she used her magic here and get sniffed? She's already doomed. At least, she would get to fight better when she's not tied to a pole. Screw being detected by her captors. Let them come.

In about five seconds and a spark spell later, the cords were mere ashes by Xanthy's feet and she was pushing the tent flap open. More silence and stillness greeted her as soon as she stepped out of the tent and into the camp.

The forest was thick in this part of Joperos Lin which means this was farther than the lip of the city that hosted more concrete buildings. Xanthy stalked around the mess of more cloth tents pitched against the moist forest floor, keeping her magic hovering at the surface, ready to be cast.

The camp was deserted, judging from the mess of upturned tables, discarded mugs of ale, and even a sheathed sword lying forgotten on the grass. Xanthy spied wooden crates with half-eaten pies and eggs with light green shells. Her stomach growled. She cursed. This was no time to think of food.

There were at least twenty tents similar to the one Xanthy left pitched in this particular camp. The smell of stale wine, spoiled food, and burning wood filled what's supposed to be fresh forest air. A gust of wind drove Xanthy's hair away from her forehead. The grass blades followed its direction.

Xanthy narrowed her eyes at the tents. Cyrdel and Ravalee have to be in one of those. If they're captured, that was.

A twig snapped. A presence slipped at her back, judging from the unnatural whish of wind behind her. Xanthy whirled, her fist already in action. Her hand sailed through empty air. There's...nothing. Xanthy knitted her eyebrows.

What broke the twig, then? It wasn't her.

A hand sailed for her nose and Xanthy barely ducked in time. A woman glowing with a green sheen stepped out of the empty air as Xanthy scrambled back. Xanthy squinted and oh, the forest could be seen through the woman. Great. She's translucent.

The woman stared at Xanthy with one of the best impressions of Ezril. Xanthy rolled her eyes with a snort. Gods, was everything in Carleon so frowny? She didn't get to mull over that because the green woman lunged.

Xanthy cast her hand up, summoning a shield in front of her. Good. Nothing can touch her here. Then, something heavy and lumpy slammed into Xanthy's chest and she went down. What the—

Green Woman stepped through the spell? Of course, she's a spirit. Duh.

Xanthy's back hit the ground and she felt the air slam out of her lungs. She didn't need to breathe as she rolled away before the spirit's fist meet her face. Her vision blurred and her breathing wasn't quite right but she pushed herself up as the spirit woman stalked towards her. Then, something slammed into Xanthy's back yet again.

What now?

A weight pushed her head against the ground. Xanthy gritted her teeth. Not the second time, witch. Xanthy cried out a spell. An explosion of energy speared for whatever it was on her back. It disappeared. Xanthy pushed herself up and ran for the trees. It would be easier to lose them there.

She tore through the forest. Okay, what's next? Xanthy ran her options through her head. Not one of them included not killing someone. She shook her head. The spirit woman, whom Xanthy decided to call Happy, ran alongside a man with a similar green tinge. Oh, that must be the one that slammed into Xanthy earlier. Let Xanthy call the man Delightful.

The spirits followed in Xanthy's wake even as she swerved and wove between trees or went in circles. Okay. What else did Xanthy know about Banshees? They're creepy, liked fur in their clothes, named everything with the word "soul", excellent necromancers.

Xanthy's eyes widened as she gripped a trunk to haul herself into a turn. Ah. Necromancy. Death magic. These spirits were summoned beings with a spell performed to do so. Even if a normal spellcaster wasn't able to release a conjured spell by another spellcaster, perhaps the Virtakios could do it?

Let her test that theory out. Xanthy stretched her hand and called to her weapons. In an instant, she held a curved, slender bow and a quiver. She slung these to her body as she ran.

Xanthy kept an eye on the tents as she ran in circles around it. Happy and Delightful were still at her heels. Ugh. This sucked. Xanthy whirled back and fired three consecutive blasts of magic in the spirits' direction. Her magic simply passed through them. She cursed. How would she even use the Virtakios on them?

Delightful suddenly leaped forward at an impossible length and slammed into Xanthy's shoulders. They rolled on the ground, getting soil particles in their faces. Mostly, it was only on Xanthy's face because dirt just passed through the spirit and rained on Xanthy.

Xanthy lashed out with her foot and hit Delightful square in the stomach. It connected and the spirit sailed a distance. Xanthy raised her eyebrows. So...she could touch spirits in a limited window of time, huh? She could work with that. Suddenly, her world blurred green when two fists landed on her nose.

She felt herself fall down. The leaves somewhere to Xanthy's left ear rustled and a pair of boots edged into Xanthy's blurred vision. What...that must be the banshee. Xanthy tried to breathe through her nose but she only succeeded in inhaling her own blood. Ugh.

"Ranthea, Placis, take her back to camp," the banshee's reedy, male voice rang in Xanthy's ears. Strong arms grabbed her arms and she felt her body being hauled up. "I can't have her disappearing on my watch and having nothing to report. It's bad enough that the Princess thinks I'm lousy and can't handle the battle. It's bad enough that she left me here in care of these...freaks. I can't do a lousy job at this too."

He rambled on and on about pleasing Kymalin, shoving his fingers into his curly locks as if he thought it was going to make him more handsome. His metal armor almost the same as Kymalin's clinked against the quiet forest air as he walked. The spirits flanked Xanthy on both sides, their grip on Xanthy's arms tight and showed no sign of loosening even when Xanthy tried to squirm.

Xanthy frowned as her magic slowly worked on healing her broken nose. It's bothersome that she's being hauled back to captivity. But it's bad enough that the banshee won't shut up praising Kymalin's beauty.

They were almost to the camp when Xanthy's magic finished fixing her nose. The banshee was still yammering until Xanthy lost her composure. She kicked the dirt, sending a flurry of a spell with it. With his back turned, the banshee didn't know of it until it sent him toppling forward. He didn't move. Good.

The spirits should disappear soon.

Except that they didn't. They moved to apprehend her but Xanthy swept her legs and kicked them behind the knees. It should connect considering they're still holding her arms. The spirits stumbled but didn't let her go. Come on! Xanthy pressed her hand on Happy's head which was now rearing back to slam into her. The Virtakios raged out of her lips as she yelled, "Reverse!"

Happy blinked out of existence. A strangled laugh echoed out of Xanthy. Huh. It worked. Delightful was the next to go. There. One problem solved.

Xanthy stood on shaky knees and prodded the fallen banshee with the tip of her boot. He's out cold. Good. She did hit him hard. Then, the banshee's eyes snapped open. Xanthy scrambled back and found herself back into the camp's embrace. Ugh. Okay.

The banshee wiped the blood dripping from his nose as he stood up. He realized that he couldn't call on his summon spirits anymore. A growl rang from his throat as he drew a sword sheathed by his belt.

Xanthy's eyes widened. Okay. Time to run. Her bow would do nothing against that weapon. Against the sunlight, the blade glinted a familiar shade of silver when the banshee swung it.

Dwarven metal. Okay, Xanthy. Run.

She tried calling Ravalee with her mind but fate really did like to play its game because she realized she didn't know how to initiate a link to her half's mind. Queen's breeches.

The banshee screamed as he bounded after her. Gods, looks like Xanthy has to deal with a sword without knowing the first thing about handling one much less fight with one. Great. Just immaculate.

She whirled just in time to intercept the banshee's sword with a shield. A clang rang through the forest. The banshee drew his weapon back and brought it down again and again. Xanthy stepped back at every contact, gritting her teeth at keeping her shield intact. Damn, dwarven metal really resists magic.

The banshee swung his sword at an opportune time and Xanthy cursed as her shield shattered. Xanthy stumbled back as the banshee towered over her. Her palms met soil as she scrambled away from him.

"You pesky insect," the banshee growled. He stalked closer while Xanthy crawled backwards. Her fingers bumped against the sheathed sword.

The banshee was upon her now. He raised his sword. "Kymalin said I could kill you if you get too annoying."

He slashed. Xanthy's fingers closed around the sheathed sword. She swung it over her head. The banshee's sword slammed into the scabbard with enough force to crack it. Oh, dear. Imagine if that cleaved her head. Xanthy forced herself to stare up the banshee's flushed face. "Yeah, good luck with that," Xanthy rasped.

She swung her foot against his ankles. Bone connected with bone and the banshee stumbled. Xanthy rolled away and skinned the sword clean. The scabbard lay discarded a few distance from her as she threw it away.

"Come on," Xanthy did her best to smile confidently as she drew up. "How about a fair fight?"

The banshee grinned, wiped his face clean with the back of his hand, and lunged. Okay, how did Reeca do this again? Parry, strike, slash, block, kick, roll. Xanthy blurred through the movements without thinking. It's foolish but instinct was the only one she got going right now.

The guard feinted left. Xanthy swept her sword in a wide arc, catching his cheek at the right time. He barely noticed this and continued bearing down on her. Xanthy grunted. Just follow the blade's movement and try not to get her head cleaved in half.

Xanthy sidestepped the banshee as he thrust his sword inward through her defense. She reached out and grabbed his sword hand. Her knees drove itself through his unprotected stomach, feeling his flesh from her kneecap. He snarled and stomped on her foot.

She yelped as she broke away from him. Fighting dirty, then. He took this chance to lunge and swipe his sword that was sure to separate Xanthy's head from her neck.

She ducked then charged forward, slamming her head to his stomach. He gasped and Xanthy brought her sword up, parrying his overhead strike. The impact sent vibrations up her arm that she almost dropped her sword.

He struck again and again. Xanthy did her best to leap away or block when she could. At least, until she crashed against a tent.

Her back went rigid as she slammed into a pole that held a tent up. She tripped and fell with the tent. Her sword flew out of her hands. The boy's eyes gleamed as he drove his sword down. Xanthy rolled away, eyeing the sword stuck into the ground where her head had been. She glanced at the tent fabric beneath her. Well, that's one less tent to search for her friends, then.

Xanthy scrambled back before the banshee could strike again. Come on. Think. The boy lunged and Xanthy grabbed the edge of the tent fabric and flung it at the boy's face. She dropped to a crouch and her fingers brushed her boots.

Her eyes widened. Boots. Vials.

The banshee sputtered as he wildly tore the tent fabric off his face. He lunged towards Xanthy with a scream and his sword aimed at her chest. Xanthy ducked, fished a random vial from her boots, and slammed it on the boy's forehead. The Virtakios swirled from her hand, bursting the presumably unbreakable presora glass.

Xanthy held her breath as pink flumes exploded from the vial and wrapped around the banshee's head like a fancy turban. The banshee crumpled and slammed into the ground. Pink gunk oozed out of his nose and ears.

A good thing Nyxis wasn't lying about his potions.

Xanthy's legs shook as she pushed herself up. Queen's stockings. How many times had she thought she'd die today? She lost count. Xanthy shook her head to clear it of any residual reflections about the battle she just survived. Celebrate later. Next on her list—find Cyrdel and Ravalee.

She grabbed the sword she dropped and started combing through the tents. On the fifteenth tent she peered through, Cyrdel greeted her with a grin from his place of being tied against a pole. "I heard the commotion, Miss Vivenca. Is everything fine?"

Xanthy rolled her eyes. "You know me, Your Highness. Nothing's fine with me around," she swept her sword through his binds before offering him a hand. "Come on."

Cyrdel accepted her hand and Xanthy helped him up. "Where's Ravalee?" the prince dusted his coveralls before checking his pockets for anything that might be missing from them.

Xanthy ran towards the opening without looking at him. "Working on it."

Together, they checked the remaining tents until they came to the last one. There, Ravalee was snoring. How was it even possible for Xanthy's half to have slept through it all?

Xanthy strode inside the tent and shook Ravalee awake. Her half blubbered the whole time Xanthy cut her free. When Ravalee could finally talk in full sentences, Xanthy hoisted her up.

"Let's go," Xanthy turned to the tent's exit. "We have a thief to catch."

Both brownies nodded. They went out of the tent just for the brownies to see the banshee still oozing pink gunk out of the holes of his head. Shards of presora still stuck on his bloody forehead. Oops.

Xanthy turned to her friends to find them almost as pale as the banshees living in these mountains. Oh, they're not used to seeing blood. How convenient. She herded them away from the camp. "That's only a fraction of what you'll be seeing on the battlefield," she said quietly. "But it doesn't matter. I won't let any harm come to you."

Cydel took Ravalee's hand and both of them nodded. Xanthy wrenched her eyes off that spectacle and moved to the next thing on her list—finding the thief.

An audible sound crackled in the sky. Xanthy craned her neck and cursed the fact that Joperos Lin was a city almost at the base of the mountain. The forest grew quiet. Xanthy could only guess what that crackling sound was.

Cyrdel met Xanthy's eyes and if possible, he paled further. "Gods, don't tell me..."

Xanthy nodded. The barrier was broken.

Just then, a swish of a bright red cloak appeared at the edge of Xanthy's vision. Paulsare hooves slapped the ground in a series of clops as the thief whizzed past them and sped for the direction that they all knew well.

The Temple of Souls.

Xanthy glanced at her friends and as one, they ran like their lives depended on it. Maybe because, indirectly, they did.