Alinore Valmont. Satday, Libra 3rd, 2353 AA. 6:40 AM. Arroyo Athenaeum (East Campus).

Lin regretted her decision as soon as she hung up. Telling Pensey to tail him was beyond risky. I just don’t know what else to do. I need to know if he disappears into the Faed. She dialed nine-one-one as she ran at a sorcery-assisted clip toward the east dining hall.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Malefaction,” Lin said, breathlessly. “An aspirant named Renair Grant is performing malefaction at the Arroyo Athenaeum’s East Dining Hall.”

“Ma’am, calm down. Are you in danger?”

The question tripped Lin up. I need this to sound as urgent as it actually is. Another white lie won’t hurt.

“Yes! Your suspect is a Caucasian aspirant, about seven feet tall, sandy hair, wearing glasses.”

“Stay with me, ma’am. I’m calling dispatch now. Can you describe what you are seeing?”

Lin hung up. She didn’t have the breath to waste.

She saw campus security before she reached the dining hall. There were at least four guards speaking into shoulder radios. Looks like they have the building on lockdown. Jesus Christ, what happened? Lin dialed Pensey’s symphone. It rang until it hit voicemail. Oh fuck. Please don’t tell me she got hurt. I could never forgive myself. Please. Please let her be alright.

When the campus security officers saw Lin sprinting across the field, they held up their hands and then gestured for her to stay away and take shelter indoors. The older guard started shouting as she approached.

“I told you to stay away!” He shouted. “Are you deaf? There may be a gunman in the area!”

What!? A gunman? Wait, did Matthews start a fight? Oh god, did Renair shoot at him? Or Pensey? Lin thought quickly. More lies. She turned and pointed back the way she came, doing her best to look distraught.

“I heard shots that way! Near the alchemy labs!”

The guard looked surprised, then spoke a code into his radio.

“Get inside and shelter in place!” He snapped. “Do not leave until lockdown has been lifted, do you understand me?”

Lin nodded and went inside. The dining hall was suffused with the uneasy sort of non-silence that came with a large crowd of people who were trying to be quiet. The air was thick with urdic tension. As she entered the dining area, she saw students of all ages huddling in place beneath tables.

I need to ask questions.

“Lin!” a voice called.

She looked over to see Senice motioning toward her from beneath a desk. Lin hustled over and crouched next to her.

“How did you get inside? We’re supposed to be on lockdown.”

“Campus security told me to come inside. What the hell is going on?”

Senice shook her head.

“We heard a gunshot a couple minutes ago. It was really close. Sounded like it was right outside. We didn’t actually see anybody do it—”

“Just one gunshot?” Lin asked, perplexed.

Senice nodded. That’s strange. Why would there be only one shot?

“Have you seen Hace Matthews or Pensey?” Lin asked.

“Hace followed a really tall guy out to the balcony about a minute before we heard the shot,” Senice said. “Wait, does he have something to do with this?”

“What about Pensey?” Lin asked, ignoring Senice’s question.

“I saw her earlier, but I’m not sure where she is now.”

“Stay here,” Lin said.

Before Senice could protest, Lin stood and ran toward the door to the balcony. Some of the other aspirants and kitchen staff shouted at her to get down, stay inside, but she barely registered them. She opened the balcony door as quietly as possible and looked around. Aside from abandoned meals and book bags, there was no evidence of anybody outside.

At a loss, Lin dialed Pensey again.

There was no answer again. But Lin did hear a faint buzzing. She whirled around, looking for the source of the sound. She had to call two more times before she realized the noise was coming from beneath the balcony. Oh god. Oh no.

Lin started to descend the stairs leading to the base of the deck, spying another Campus Security Keeper speaking on his radio, standing near a cruiser with its lights flashing. He’s looking away, though. Talking on his radio. Lin crept down the stairs as fast as she could and ducked around the corner of the building’s foundation.

The first thing she noticed was that the gravel landscaping beneath the balcony was thoroughly disturbed. Close to the scuffs, she spied a symphone in a white case with a cherry blossom motif. Pensey’s phone. Lin’s heart leapt into her throat. She ran toward the phone and picked it up. Pen must be in the Faed. And I need to follow her.

But how? It was impossible. Not only for her, but for the Keeping Force as well, putting aside the hours-long ritual it would take to create a breach in the veil. The only other akrasiac on campus is Master Fitzgerald and I have no idea where she is. Fuck! I don’t have time to go looking for her, and if I go roaming around the campus during lockdown, I’ll either be detained or shot.

Reality and the Faed had a strange relationship with time. Sometimes seconds in reality translated to minutes in the Faed. Sometimes it was the other way around. Matthews wouldn’t allow Renair to hurt Pensey… But he wouldn’t willingly take her into the Faed either. How the fuck can I reach her?

Then a truly desperate idea occurred to Lin.

She looked at the parked cruiser. The lights on top were spinning. That means the keys are in still in the ignition.

You’re gonna get expelled for this.

Lin shook off the thought. If I just let my best friend die, the best parts of me will die with her. Lin crouched, gathered her wyrd, and dashed across the gavel as fast as she could. She opened the car door, jumped in the driver’s seat, and twisted the key.

By the time the officer on the radio heard the car door slam, Lin was already backing down the grassy slope that led to the lower-class girl’s dorm’s parking lot. The car’s bumper crunched awfully as she jumped the curb to the asphalt. Lin put the car in reverse, flipped its orientation, and turned on the siren. Then she drove straight onto Orange Grove.

— 6:54 AM | Westridge Terrace (Arroyo Athenaeum Upper Class Girls’ Dorm) —

With the siren running, it took Lin less than two minutes to traverse the three blocks to the dorm. She screeched to a halt at the entrance, jumped out, and ran inside. A girl descending the stairs froze in Lin’s path, alarmed by her rapid approach, and Lin ended up shoulder-checking her to reach the second floor. Lin’s heart pounded in her temples, pulse seemingly escalating with every footstep. Finally, she reached her room.

Lin unlocked the door and called for Ginsburg in the same breath. She stepped inside, and found the kitten lying on Pensey’s bedsheets, belly upturned. Lin snatched Ginsburg off the bed, and she thrashed and yowled.

“Ginsburg, Pensey is in danger!” Lin said, holding the cat up at eye level. “I need you to take me to her. She’s trapped inside the Faed, and you are the only one who can help me. She could die. Do you understand?!”

Of course it doesn’t understand, Lin. It’s a fucking cat. You’ve lost it. Tears welled in her eyes. You’ve gone absolutely mad. Like most fae, full Cheshires were capable of holding conversations. They were intelligent. And the way this cat annoys me, I swear she knows what she’s doing. But she loves Pensey. So please. God.…

Lin reached out to the cat with her wyrd, and started begging with emanations. She tried to convey images of Pensey and finally abstract concepts like ‘not here,’ ‘other place,’ and ‘help.’ In the end, she tried to make her wyrd imitate Pensey’s own ebullient field of power. Ginsburg looked at her inscrutably, and meowed to be put down.

“Please… take me to the Faed,” she said, pathetically. And then added angrily, “You’re part Cheshire, aren’t you?! You’re supposed to be smar—”

An effervescent wrecking ball slammed into Lin’s body. They were half-pushed, half-sucked into nothingness. She metaphysically clutched the cat harder as she was caught in a strange, abstract current of energy. The Veil. She didn’t have matter, but she still had some kind of structural being. It was disorienting as all hell. Lin redirected her thoughts back to Pensey. Take us to Pensey! Find her! She saved your life—now you can save hers!

The trip was like being tossed by heavy surf, except the water was made of whispers, stray thoughts, and miscellaneous emotions. It seemed to last a long time. But then she was through.

— | —

The Faed flooded Lin’s wyrd with a dizzying amount of ambient magic. She stood in a strange city amidst colossal tree-building hybrids, each spun from precious metals. The ground she stood on was a solid sheet of light, or perhaps a massive pane of translucent amber, and above the metal canopy, there was a pitch-black sky. And Pensey was there, five feet to her right.

I did it. I’m through! We made it!

Ginsburg jumped out of Lin’s arms with a petulant meow and quickly scampered to Pensey. The cat rubbed her cheek against her owner’s legs and purred loudly. Pensey was too astonished to say anything.

Lin turned her attention to Hace Matthews, lying in a heap on the ground, and Renair Grant, who stood with his back turned, shirtless and singed. Even twelve feet away, Lin could feel his wyrd blazing like a gasoline-soaked pyre.

“Sorry I’m late. You still alive, Matthews?”

He took her arrival in stride and emanated a dire warning:

“He’s juiced to high hell. Speed. Strength. Wyrd. And he can regenerate like a goddamn troll.”

Renair turned to face her and furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Valmont? Where the hell did you come from?”

Lin assumed a fighting stance, and raced through a reflex enhancing contract. She was out of anima. But I feel like I could take on an army right now.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lin said fiercely. “I’m here now, and you’re done.”

Renair scoffed and started to say something. But I’m not fucking hearing it. He barely opened his mouth before Lin launched herself forward with kinetic strings and buried her fist in his face. The punch hurt. It hurt bad. Whatever he had taken hardened his skin to be as tough as lamellar plating, and she felt something crack in her hand. Fuck! Lin could tell that the impact still rattled Renair’s brain, as it sent him tottering backwards. If we can knock him out, it doesn’t matter how fast he can regenerate.

Matthews followed up by projecting a wall of force that smashed into Renair’s back and prevented his retreat from Lin. Renair tried to swing at her, but his fighting technique was non-existent and she easily dodged the haymaker, answering with two quick jabs and a knee into his groin.

Then his wyrd seemed to erupt.

Despite Matthews’ warning, the force of his magic took her by surprise. The wave of telekinetic force blasted her off her feet and sent her sprawling. His output is on par with the strongest masters I’ve trained with. What the hell did he take?!

Matthews had re-engaged, firing a jet of fire at Renair, followed by a more explosive basketball-sized gout of flame that detonated against his shoulders. The alchemist howled with pain and answered with lances of force. Matthews sidestepped while she rolled to her feet. They dodged in a symmetrical, semi-circular pattern, maintaining their pincer formation around Renair.

“We need to knock him out!”

“The wyrd stim is keeping him awake!” Matthews called back.

Oh. Perfect.

Renair lunged but Matthews seemed to split apart, forming glamoured clones of himself. Lin flash froze the water vapor around Renair, shrouding him in cold, obscuring mist. Renair projected a broad dome of force to disperse the mist and dispel Matthews’ glamours, but the combined distraction allowed Lin to close the distance between them once again. She launched her boot heel against his temple, torquing her body with kinetic strings to make the blow hit as hard as possible.

It knocked Renair off his feet, but he managed to catch himself with sorcery. When Lin went in for a follow-up, he was ready. He placed his palm on her stomach. Oh fuck. I don’t have a barrier. And a point-blank blast with his strength is enough to blow a hole in my gut.

Before Renair could focus his power into a blast, Matthews jumped on him from behind, hooking his arm around his neck and pulling him back. The blast still went off, but it was sloppier and the direct, deadly contact had been broken. It struck Lin’s sternum instead of her stomach and lifted her off her feet. She felt two distinct pops in her ribcage before her back hit the ground. She groaned and gasped, watching as Renair flung Matthews at her with an aikido throw.

Matthews crashed into her, making her scream as his bulk slammed into her broken ribs. They both scrambled to untangle from each other, fearing Renair’s follow up attack. But it never came.

Lin felt the familiar touch of Pensey’s wyrd ripple through the air as Renair froze mid-step. He fell to the ground, body completely bound by Pensey’s contract. As he struck the ground, she followed up with a second contract, drawn from an earth animus. The spirit resonated with the power of the autumn court, force magnifying the power of the contract. Thick, golden roots erupted from the ground, snaking around Renair’s limbs and tying him down. He was so thoroughly bound that he couldn’t even speak.

“You saved us, Pen,” Lin said, unable to think of anything else.

She smiled, dizzied from the euphoric rush of brute-force magic. But then her expression fell. Lin hadn’t noticed mid-fight, but a small army of thorn elves in hunter green uniforms augmented by brown, lacquered plating, had surrounded them. Most had taken elevated positions around the plaza and held bows, but others held branching, briar-shaped blades.

One of the elves, stood slightly taller than others, adorned with a cape of autumn leaves. As he strode forward, Lin saw that he wore a wicked obsidian sword on his left hip, blade branching into dozens of serrated edges. It looked exceptionally hard to wield, but Lin didn’t doubt the elf’s prowess. His body exuded a tremendous eminence—it was like the world around them was an extension of his will.

Lin assumed a cautious guard in front of Pensey, while Matthews gestured for peace. We’re all out of anima now. You’d better hope that silver tongue can get us out of this, Matthews.

The elf captain spoke first, voice calm, but accompanied by his powerful magical authority. It was as if he was using the Faed itself as a medium to make his meaning clear: 

“In the name of the Guard of Glitterglade, I hereby pronounce you under arrest. You have disturbed the peace, damaged our fair city, and endangered her citizens. Surrender now or suffer death.”

“We mean no harm. He’s a mad alchemist,” Matthews explained, nodding at Renair. “He took a hostage and forced me to bring them into the Faed. I am an akrasiac born to the Summer Court.”

“I crossed over with that half-Cheshire to help apprehend him,” Lin added, gesturing at Ginsburg.

Pensey’s acute kinetic binding had worn off, and now Renair was struggling against the vines and roots that tethered him to the ground. He called out:

“My name is Renair August Grant, and I am a sworn ally of the Autumn Court! Kill them and release me!”

“Be silent, wretch,” the captain said acidly.

“We have a deal!” Renair insisted.

The elf commander closed his eyes with long-suffering weight, then looked back at Renair. He studied the alchemist a moment and sniffed deeply, as if he could somehow smell the alleged agreement. Then he shook his head.

“No longer.”

“Does the Autumn court foreswear it’s obligations?” Renair demanded.

That seemed to really piss off the captain, who gestured for his platoon to move in and spoke:

“You breached our accord by illegally entering our realm, and further broke laws of hospitality by fighting in our city. Your feeble ‘merchant’s agreement’ is nothing in the face of these transgressions.”

“Look,” Matthews began. “We just need to get him back to reality and we’ll be out of your hair. You’ll never see us again.”

The captain’s mouth twitched into a scornful frown.

“Do not sully a truth-bound tongue with statements born from ignorance, Hace Matthews. An akrasiac cannot know whom he will encounter in the Faed. Submit yourself to Autumn’s judgement and you may yet live, but not without suitable reparations.”

The elves hopped down from their elevated positions around the plaza, lithe and beautiful. They advanced with their bows drawn, arrows dripping with some sort of dark green coating. Knowing the Autumn Court, it’s probably a very nasty poison. At a loss, Lin put her hands up, and Matthews and Pensey did the same.

“Restrain him first,” The captain said, nodding at Renair.

One of the elves held a thick golden cord, rich with binding magic. But as the guards relaxed the energies in Pensey’s spell, Renair’s right arm broke free from the roots, and he held a glowing green vial. Lin’s heart plummeted as the world seemed to slow to quarter time. Renair brought the vial to his mouth, bit the cork free, and drank the liquid within. The elves collectively released their arrows, which pin-cushioned his arms and face, leading him to scream. But it was too late. He had already imbibed the potion.

Renair’s body began to quiver, muscles writhing beneath his skin. He started to scream. His muscle fibers doubled, then redoubled, knotting into entirely new groups of muscle. This continued until his skin started tearing, only for the muscle to overtake the skin in thick, fleshy sheets.

“Oh fuck,” Matthews said. “I think that was a second troll liver decoction.”

Lin’s eyes widened. A second one? Decoctions were illegal to begin with, due to the dangers they posed to the drinker. With two, there’s no telling what he’ll be capable of.

Renair broke through the last of Pensey’s bindings, now a monstrous mass of ever-expanding muscle, the size of a half-giant. He snatched the closest fae by the ankle, and used her entire body as a flail, smashing two other guards backwards. Then he began to slam the elf’s body into the ground as if she were a rag doll. Upon the second impact, she evaporated into dust, and the pressure of her eminence vanished.

“What… did you… do to me?!” Renair bellowed.

He began to claw at his face, attempting to pry the arrows free. Lin saw that the flesh around the arrows was literally sizzling. It had turned a sickening black-green color, and was aggressively spreading throughout his body. Renair’s head was comically small compared to the rest of his body. But His veins were turning black, and his mouth dripped a mix of blood and black drool.

“What was on those arrows?” Lin asked the captain.

“Faen dendrocnide toxin,” the elf said. “It necrotizes tissue faster than fire can burn it, and the experience is considerably more painful.”

But with his constant regeneration, it’s just going to drive him mad.

Two of the elves moved in with their briar blades, slashing at Renair’s legs with deft, graceful precision. Renair kicked one across the plaza, and smashed the other into the ground, his wounds healing themselves as soon as the blades left his flesh. But the poison was still eating at him. Noxious boils appeared across his muscular armor, spattering two more of the elves immediately surrounding him. They instantly fell to the ground, writhing in pain and incapacitated. Nearly half of the platoon had perished in the space of seven seconds.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Matthews told the guard captain. “We deal with him and you let us leave without incident.”

The elf was clearly displeased, but after a second’s consideration, he said:

“Accepted.”

Renair charged. Lin, Pensey, Matthews, and the elf captain scattered, diving or sprinting out of his path. The elf placed his palms on the amber ground, which seemed to briefly boil before exploding into a series of vines with jagged thorns. One vine looped around his neck. Two of the shafts of wood coiled around Renair’s waist and two others seized his arms. He freed his waist and neck, but continued to strain against the arm bindings.

“With me!” Lin shouted.

She fired a current of electricity at the brute, and Matthews added his own wyrd to the spell. Elemental magic isn’t exactly my specialty, but he’s is strong with it. And if we can tase him with enough juice, maybe we can buy the elf time to finish him. The captain seized his opportunity, hacking at Renair’s face with his branching obsidian sword.

For a second, it looked like they had him. But then Renair deliberately wrapped his wrists around the vines, and pulled with all his superhuman might. The braided vines tore an enormous chunk of the transmuted amber platform loose, which he swung in a broad, sweeping arc. Lin and Pensey were out of range and Matthews narrowly ducked beneath the swing, but the boulder collided with the captain’s light torso at center mass.

The blow atomized half his body into rainbow colored dust, and launched the rest of him into the wall of a building at the far edge of the plaza. He crumpled, his eminence dropping precipitously. Possibly dead.

Renair bull-rushed the fallen fae. Lin created a telekinetic barrier between the alchemist and the elf, hard as concrete and four inches thick. Colliding with it merely made Renair stumble. Matthews redoubled his efforts with electrical sorcery, yelling as exus started to take hold of him. Christ, Matthews, hold it together! I can’t fight you too!

The elf captain drew his cape of around his body, and he disappeared into a wind-blown flurry of leaves. Renair smashed into the wall of the building, and the elf captain reappeared behind him, driving his black blade directly into Renair’s flank, then twisted it violently. The brute responded by backhanding the elf, hard enough to send him spinning to the ground. His black crystal sword shattered at the hilt.

Renair snatched the captain around the waist with one enormous hand, and grabbed his shoulders with the other. Then he started to twist the elf-s body in opposite directions. A blood-curdling howl escaped the captain’s lungs, along with a gout of dust. The golden lights in the plaza flickered as the pressure of his eminence plunged, as if he himself was the generator for the surrounding area.

A red line of fire slashed across Renair’s back, and he dropped the elf. Lin wasn’t sure whether the captain was still alive, but now Matthews himself had become a threat. His wyrd was visible. It danced like a tumbling surf of fire around a towering pyre of pure rage. The air in the city was still, yet his clothes and hair flew and flapped as if buffeted by an intense thermal updraft.

 My god, is that idiot wrath-casting?

Amagia could channel their emotions into their spell-casting at the expense of control and self-preservation. It was damn near suicide with contract magic, but still plenty risky with sorcery. Matthews’ eyes left streaks of eye-searing red in their wake as he moved on Renair. He flung fire, slashed with conjured blades, and yelled like a fiend from the bowels of hells.

One of his conjured crimson blades streaked past Lin. It wasn’t the only projectile that flew wildly either—a red arc of lightning snapped the ground near the guard captain. It was clear Matthews barely understood the techniques he was using. He’s not in control, but he’s right to try. We need more firepower. Renair staggered back away from the elf and swatted clumsily at Matthews, who ran so fast he seemed to blink from position to position, hitting him with caustic red flames each jump.

But he’s getting more reckless! Exus has eaten his sense of self preservation.

Sure enough, Renair landed a punch on Matthews at center mass. His red aura flickered out, all his sound and fury snuffed with a single blow. Oh good. Matthews is dead. Lin froze. The elf had managed to rise to his feet, but it was plain he didn’t have the strength to defeat whatever it was that Renair had become. I can’t beat him either. I don’t have anything that can overcome him at range and he’s too dangerous to engage directly.

Renair started to advance on the hapless captain, but then followed the elf’s gaze to Lin.

Lin shouted at Pensey:

“Run!”

Renair charged. Lin channeled her wyrd into the sundered amber platform, transmuting it into a spiked palisade to meet him. The spikes tore into his bulk. It wasn’t large enough to halt the giant’s charge, it bought her enough time to fashion her wyrd into an urdic half-dome barrier that was as hard as steel. She braced for impact as Renair swatted at her with his enormous paw.

Lin’s wyrd tore as he backhanded her into the air. She blacked out before she could even strike the ground, and came to slumped against one of the plaza’s buildings. There was something wrong with her right shoulder. It took her two tries before she could breathe and her broken ribs stabbed her with each attempt. As she tried to survey the plaza, her vision seemed to lag on details.

Then she saw Renair pry a boulder-sized clump of amber rubble from the ground. His gaze locked onto Pensey. Again, the world seemed to slow down.

No.

The elf captain intercepted it. He shot across the plaza with all his might, and caught the rock before it could reduce Pensey to a smear. But when the boulder broke against his barrier, he didn’t have the strength to protect himself from the resulting debris. He fell beneath a shower of heavy amber chunks, and the magic pressure from his eminence seemed to vanish. Oh god, he’s dead too.

Renair advanced on Pensey with plodding menace. Run! But Pensey was too panicked and she tripped as she turned.

Lin tried to will herself to stand. Get up! Get up, get up, get up, damn you! What can I do? Matthews used wrath-casting, even though he barely seemed to know what he was doing. What stupid, reckless thing can I do? She thought for a moment as she rose to her feet. I can try to free cast, we’re in the heart of the Autumn Court—Lin’s legs gave out. She collapsed painfully on the ground.

I can’t get there. I don’t have the strength. She couldn’t even suck enough breath to call out to her friend. I can’t. I can’t watch you die. Please.

A black blur caught Lin’s eye. At first, she thought she was seeing spots.

No.

It’s Ginsburg.

Or it was Ginsburg.

The cat stood in front of Pensey, hackles raised and hissing. Renair lumbered forward, raising his arms over his head to smash them both like bugs. And then it was over. He slapped his hand down just as Lin drew in enough air to scream.

But Pensey’s wyrd persisted. Lin could only stare.

Renair’s hand had rebounded against something else. A towering—and still growing—black beast with thick flowing fur that was also hard as wire-brush. It had deflected Renair’s two-handed smash with a single legged kick, and it continued to grow amidst the strike. Lin saw it stood like a man—if that man was also a wolf.

This is lycanthropy! Ginsburg is some kind of werewolf! Lin didn’t even know cats could contract lycanthropy—let alone chesires. She thought back to their ruined room. The gashes carved into their hardwood floor. My god, we’ve been sleeping with a werewolf.

But Ginsburg was neither Cheshire nor werewolf. She was something in between, and far worse than either. She had razor sharp fangs, claws as long as short swords, and about as much musculature as Renair. The growl that escaped Ginsburg’s throat dried the saliva in Lin’s mouth and the roar that followed chilled her to the roots of her teeth. The vibrations alone were enough to make her heart stumble. Renair took two steps back. Even his maimed, burning brain was smart enough to be afraid of what Ginsburg had become.

Pensey managed to escape during the transformation and scrambled to Lin. But neither of them could take their eyes off Ginsburg.

Renair swung his fist first. Even with his enhanced speed and musculature, he might as well have been moving in slow motion. Ginsburg caught his punch, casually twisted his wrist seven hundred and twenty degrees, then clawed at his face with her other hand. And when he fell, she fell upon him, beginning to feast on his ever-growing flesh. She literally tore off his jaw and face, even as he punched her with his titanic muscles.

It took him a full three seconds to pry Ginsburg off his chest, and she came clear with a mass of flesh in her jaws. Before he could finish standing, however, Ginsburg launched herself onto his back, knocking him down again, and proceeded to shred his back with her claws.

Healing magic doesn’t stop pain. She can keep shredding him until his potions wear off.

Ginsburg bit his head and tried to tear it free from his body as he continued to scream and thrash. It took Lin several seconds to realize that Renair was begging:

“Hurt! Stop!” He cried in a garbled voice. “Stop…Stop…Stop!!”

But Ginsburg silenced him by tearing out his throat with her jaws, and continued to ravage his chest with her massive lupine claws. His body could barely repair the damage quickly enough. Each slash of Ginsburg’s claws would be enough to kill a human six ways to Solday. Their impact alone was on par with Renair’s monstrous form.

Pensey called out:

“Ginsburg! Stop!”

Ginsburg turned to look at her, lip curled, exposing her bloody, viscera-clogged fangs. The Cheshire Wolf turned back to look at Renair, whose throat had recovered just enough for him to suck in sobbing breathes. He emanated pleas for mercy. Ginsburg kept him pinned to the ground and snarled.

“Make stop,” Renair cried, once he could speak again. “Hurt! Stop!”

“Ginsburg, come!” Pensey shouted.

Ginsburg continued to growl and snapped at Renair each time he tried to talk.

“It’s okay, Ginsburg! I’m safe now!”

Pensey ran forward and hugged Ginsburg’s back haunch. The Cheshire Wolf raised her head to Lin, then lowered it to Renair.Lin rose and limped across the plaza, finally reaching Renair’s sobbing form. She placed her left hand on his forehead, drew in as much energy as her injured wyrd could manage, and blasted him with sedative energy. His eyes fluttered and his muscles started to slack. Lin hit him with another pulse and leaned on the sorcery with her wyrd until his mind finally flickered into unconsciousness.

She breathed a shallow sigh of relief, trying to favor her lungs. Ginsburg’s form contorted, her joints popping and snapping as her body shrank, coarse hair turning glossy and soft. In the space of five seconds, she was the size of a kitten again, sitting atop Renair’s chest.

“Lin!” Pensey said, teary eyed. “Oh thank god, you’re alive.”

Or what passes for it. Lin chuckled weakly and gave Pensey a thumbs up with her good hand. Ginsburg stepped off of Renair’s body primly, padded over to Lin, and brushed against her ankles. Lin grinned.

“Good girl, Ginsburg.”

“Hace!” Pensey exclaimed.

Lin’s hurt lurched to a stop as she turned to see Matthews laying on the ground. He hadn’t stirred since Renair landed that haymaker and his wyrd gave out in exus. She followed Pensey over to his body, probing his wyrd for signs of life. Pensey knelt to touch his neck.

“He’s still breathing,” she said, relieved.

Yeah. But for how long? Is his spine intact? Does his brain still work?

Lin crouched to his body and tried to stimulate his wyrd with her own. Pensey followed suit. After about five seconds, his eyes opened slowly. He stared at them wordlessly before managing:

“Ow.”

Lin snickered.

“Wake up, Matthews. You’re our ride out of here.”

He groaned and took in a quaking breath against pain as he stood up. Then he shook his head and admitted grimly:

“I don’t think I can get us all back safely. I’m not sure I can even make it out of here myself.”

They took a few moments to take stock of their injuries. Lin and Matthews had suffered severe concussions and urdic tearing. Lin’s right shoulder was dislocated, but Matthews managed to use a medithurgy cantrip to put it back into place. They also both had broken ribs, though Matthews’ lower left rib was truly alarming. Even though his Strength of Stone contract managed to hold the bone in place throughout their fight, it had been broken at least two more times. Lin frowned when he pulled up his shirt, seeing the literal fragments trapped beneath his skin. Yeah. He might lose that rib.

“Well, hopefully somebody will be along soon. I think time passes much faster in reality relative to here. It has to. Otherwise I would have been too late.”

“Thank gods for that. But how did you cross over?” Matthews asked. “Was it the cat?”

“Yeah. She’s a half-Cheshire lab experiment that Pensey decided to adopt,” Lin said.

“Good thing too,” Pensey said reproachfully. “She saved us all.”

Matthews raised an eyebrow, prompting Pensey to explain Ginsburg’s intervention.

“Pity I didn’t see that happen. This is going to be a hard story for the Keepers to swallow as is,” he said, and then added: “Where did she go?”

Pensey and Lin looked around. Apparently, the monster cat had disappeared again, either back to reality or to wander the amber streets of Glitterglade. She didn’t respond despite Lin and Pensey’s attempts to call her, which was quite normal. The cat was given to vanishing at the drop of a hat under usual circumstances.

“Some assistance would be appreciated,” a faint voice called.

All three of them turned to face the pile of rubble that the guard captain had intercepted. Pensey jogged over, with Lin and Matthews limping after her. They started to excavate the elf from the rubble, who gestured thanks.

“The creature is dealt with?”

“Yes,” Matthews said, and helped the captain to his feet.

Lin was surprised at how easily he stood, then remembered that elven bodies recovered so quickly in the Faed that even grave injuries could stabilize in a matter of seconds. He was quiet though. Must have been knocked unconscious.

“You saved my life,” Pensey said. “How can I thank you?”

Hace and Lin both visibly winced as she asked the question. Never put yourself into a fae’s debt! God damn it, Pensey!

“Well. You do not recover as easily as my kind. And you are quite beautiful,” the captain said matter-of-factly, though his olive cheeks burned a dark red. He added, stiffly: “If you would permit me to kiss your hand…I would consider our debt settled in full.”

Pensey beamed and extended her right hand to the elf, who bowed low and kissed it. Hace and Lin both sighed in relief. That could have been catastrophic. I don’t really have any sample size to work with, but as elves go, this guard captain seems quite reasonable.

The captain turned to stare at Renair’s prone body and his lip curled.

“Would that we could kill him for his crimes…But it seems satisfaction is more trouble than it’s worth.”

Lin bobbed her head and bowed respectfully, as much as her broken ribs would permit. The elf captain inclined his head in return.

“My name is Swift-Thistle. And as your youth say, ‘we are square.’”

Lin was dumb-founded. Do ‘the youth’ actually say that? What youth? Youth from when? Wait, are we not ‘youth’ anymore? Matthews snickered and said:

“Glad to hear it.”