The shield breaks.

  We do our best, fighting back to back, side to side. I can’t move much, so Kiren makes temporary, less powerful shields and takes the brunt of their attacks. I just spin Meteorfang at them—to no avail. Kiren, on the other hand, is at his peak. He moves swiftly, like a dancer, weaving their blows and spitting fire. Using shields both offensively and defensively in such creative ways. But he’s not able to land anything significant. We’re just surviving. Barely.

  Until all three group together.

  And I realize what Kiren’s planning.

  The Lady seems to understand as well, for she tries to break away from the group. Both Kiren and I stop that from happening, spewing fire and lighting to keep her in place.

  And before they can counter…

  Kiren erects five shields around them.

  And presses those shields inward.

  The Lady screams in rage—familiar with the sight of her trap. Souta panics, hitting the shields with lightning, eyes flitting frantically for some escape. The lightning is a mistake close quarters. It hits Baroth. He responds in kind by raging with soulfire. They get in each other’s way trying to break out of it.

  “I can’t hold it for long,” Kiren groans. “We have to leave. Can you still swing?”

  “For about two more minutes I guess, but I have two more angel dust—”

  “Not what I meant. Physically, can you manage to swing me as well?”

  The very thought of that makes my body ache. “I’ll need help.”

  Kiren nods and places a hand against my broken ankle. At first, I have no idea what he’s doing—he’s not exactly a healer. But a small shield forms around the leg and acts as a splinter to keep the bone in.

  “Will that work?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Kiren closes his fist tighter, driving the shields in. The inside is now a mess of fire, lightning, and metal. I wrap the ball end of Meteorfang around his waist, bend down on my good leg, and leap up.

  Then, using outlined lightning rather than the kusarigama, I swing.

  It's awkward. Slower than I would be normally. But it works. Kiren swings below me, wrapped by Meteorfang still focused intently on the shield.

  We pass by the glades and my heart slows down a pace. That feeling of utter peace—of tranquility in death… it fades. And with it, I feel the strength of my lightning dwindle further. I was close. So close to finally understanding it.

  But I’d rather live to fight another day.

  We pass above the battle. It's not going well. The spirits are surrounded, the whales are closing in, and the plagued have broken through the shields. Great balls of fire hail from the sky to pummel our force.

  “Where do we go?” I have to yell.

  “Briars! We’ll meet up with Saegor and… Raiten, look out!”

  I turn my head at the apex of our swing, peaking above the cloud to see one of those great fireballs streak directly towards us. It's a damn meteor.

  I try zapping it with lightning. But, now my angel dust has run out. Perfect timing. I reach for my sack to break another—I’ll be too slow.

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  Kiren reaches a hand up.

  A shield forms hastily between us and the meteor.

  An explosion of heat. We plummet. Whipping through the air without anchor. Vision blurring.

  Meteorfang lost.

  I open my eyes to see the ground, only I land above it, shattering my leg fully upon one of Kiren’s desperate shields. I slide down the shimmering dome of magicks and whimper pathetically for a moment before clutching the grass and crawling towards the briars.

  Just put one foot in front of the other.

  Keep moving forward…

  I find a spear. Realize that I haven’t just fallen amongst the glades, but rather, right in the middle of the battle. Death surrounds me.

  I use the spearhead to stand and limp.

  Soldiers seem to ignore me, focusing instead on the spirits. Perhaps they think I’m one of their ilk—covered in the filth and grime of war, I must be unrecognizable. Vision blackens. Adrenaline fades and pain subverts all. The noise of war becomes distant and echoey—an old memory, fading away.

  Until I hear a familiar voice. A cry. I think it's my mother at first—the very same cry she gave before her execution.

  “Raiten…”

  I turn to find Kiren. He seems fine from the fall—probably because he was far lower thanks to Meteorfang.

  The only problem is that the Witch of Plagues holds a blade to his throat. More soldiers pass us, though they seem intent on giving the witch a wide berth. She stares at me, not angry or mocking. Rather, she studies my body. Looks up and down at my wounds.

  Then, she sighs.

  “Raiten. It's over.”

  I know it's true. Yet still, I reach for my sack.

  “Don’t—Raiten don’t do that. I don’t want—” she bites her lip, blade shaking. Warring with herself. “I don’t want to have to kill you. To kill him.”

  “Then don’t,” I rasp.

  She looks past me, towards the briars. Does some mental calculus. Kiren looks me in the eyes and shakes his head. He mouths ‘do it.’ Wants me to activate the amulet.

  “Give me the amulets. I’ll let both of you go. You were never here.”

  “How would you ensure—”

  “Incanta contract, verbal, right now. I won’t kill him. I’ll let you both go. But you have to give me the amulets.”

  I look at Kiren. He’s… unsure. Until Thraevirula speaks the words out in the ancient sounding Incanta. Kiren listens, deep in thought.

  “She spoke true. But don’t do it, Raiten. Just run. Kill her or let me die and just run—”

  “Tell me how to accept, Kiren.”

  “You’ll lose the amulets. You need them to—”

  “Kiren.”

  He sighs. Then, he speaks the words. And I repeat them… slowly, carefully, using all my remaining mental capacity to eke them out.

  It's a miracle I’m still standing. My regeneration is working overtime.

  Still, my eyes droop and fatigue takes hold as I finish the last word. My vision is half-lidded—I can just barely see Kiren.

  I toss her the amulets.

  Thraevirula nods and then… without any trickery or lies, she just lets Kiren go. Pushes him forward. He stumbles for a moment, before raising his head, looking beyond me, towards the briars. The sun is setting.

  The sky is colored a bleeding red and orange.

  Quite the beautiful sight, despite all the chaos.

  Kiren gives me a wry smile.

  Before a sword goes through his nape and out his neck. He takes two steps forward, knees shaking, gurgling blood. The blade withdraws. Kiren’s hands go to his throat. His smile fades. Tears run down his eyes.

  He’s so afraid. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

  I watch, unmoving, unable to believe what I’m seeing as my friend trips into me, hands reaching for my face. His fingers trail blood across my cheek as he falls at my feet, eyes dead and gone.

  And Masaru stands behind him, wiping off the fresh blood from his tachi.