Isolde panted lightly as she half-carried Draven, his arm draped over her shoulder, both of them pushing their way out of the tunnels into the chaos erupting around them.

  The air was thick with Ethra and rift energy, whipped into a violent storm. She could resonate with that much. What her mind refused to accept was the sight of hordes of Corespawns and rift creatures tearing through the sky above.

  "An incursion," Draven croaked weakly.

  "We have a bloody incursion on our hands," he hissed through clenched teeth.

  "Save your strength," Isolde scolded, her one eye stinging as the wind lashed against them.

  Drawing on her Ethra, she cocooned them in a sphere of wind energy, repelling the violent gusts and volatile rift energies that threatened to tear them apart.

  More advanced wind Ethra users could fly or summon destructive tornadoes that would make this storm look trivial. But she was only a disciple, and a fresh one at that.

  This protective sphere was the best she could manage, and even that was steadily draining her reserves.

  She cursed her own foolishness again for getting involved in this mission. She knew how the clan worked, how the rise of young prodigies often threatened the established order, and how the powerful found ways to crush those they saw as rivals before they grew too dangerous.

  Tunde's rapid advancement to disciple rank had been impressive, but Isolde knew better. She had seen prodigies rise quickly before, only to be erased when they threatened the status quo.

  Still, like the loyal ranker she was, she had followed him, enticed by the prospect of her own advancement, ignoring the risks. And now here she was, struggling to stay alive on a mission that had been a death trap from the start.

  She thought of her sister, Emeryn, who would be waiting at Red Blossom, probably praying to the hegemons for her safe return.

  Blinking away a tear, she pressed on toward where the vessel should have landed, Draven's ragged breathing beside her a grim reminder of how close to the edge they were.

  Injuries among rankers could heal quickly when inflicted by those of lower tiers, but Draven's wounds had come from something far above that.

  A tier 3 crystalline golem, the kind of creature that should have crushed Tunde without effort.

  Yet Tunde had walked it off. The wastelander had not only survived multiple direct blows from that monster but had torn it apart with his gauntlets, which had transformed from silver to black and sprouted claws.

  Isolde couldn't fathom it. Where had those gauntlets come from? What was the source of his strength? Rift Ethra was poisonous, and yet Tunde seemed to absorb it the way a normal ranker breathed air.

  It made no sense.

  A stray thought passed through her mind. Could Tunde belong to one of the unorthodox sects? The revenants or the death cults? She dismissed it just as quickly.

  He didn't look like a revenant, nor did he carry the aura of death she had heard their envoys exuded. Still, his lack of aura was unsettling. Perhaps he was simply extraordinary at concealing it.

  "Isolde," Draven's voice cut through her thoughts.

  "Save your breath," she said, her tone firm.

  "Isolde!" he shouted, shoving her aside just as an explosion of rock and earth blasted through the wind barrier she had formed.

  She coughed, rubbing dust from her eye, and looked up to find Draven on one knee, grappling with a Corespawn, a towering figure with dark wings.

  The creature raised one hand to strike, and Isolde let out a scream of rage. She drew her twin blades and projected wind Ethra through them, slicing the air in a deadly arc.

  The wind hummed with power, her projection technique sharp enough to cut through metal. One day she dreamed of mastering blade Ethra affinity, the perfect complement to her wind energy, but for now this was all she had.

  The Corespawn barely flinched, dispelling her attack with a single gust of its wings.

  "Filthy human," the creature hissed, its voice unnaturally light as it glanced at her with mild irritation.

  "You shouldn't be here. Not yet. You've disrupted the plan."

  "Leave him alone," Isolde growled, gripping her blades tighter.

  The Corespawn was tier 2, an amalgamation of human and bird with black and red feathers for hair and clawed feet. It plucked a long feather from its wing.

  The feather shimmered before hardening into a blade. Isolde's heart pounded as the creature stalked toward her with a weapon in each hand. She took a defensive stance, knowing full well she wasn't ready for this.

  The Corespawn spread its wings wide, shrieked, and launched itself at her in a burst of speed.

  One advantage of the body tempering technique Isolde had learned was the unusual lightness it gave her frame, something crucial for her wind affinity.

  She became the wind, moving with speed that rivaled the peak tier 2 Corespawn, their blades clashing in a furious exchange.

  Every ounce of her focus poured into the duel, knowing a single lapse would see her cut to ribbons. After a series of deadly exchanges, both combatants shot backward.

  Isolde panted softly, drawing Ethra from the air around her, acutely aware of the rift taint lacing it, a taint that didn't seem to trouble the Corespawn at all.

  The creature grinned at her, its grotesque face caught partway between human lips and a bird's beak.

  "At least you can fight," it sneered.

  Blood ran down Isolde's body, but she dared not reach for a healing elixir. The Corespawn was too quick. Taking her eyes off it for even a second could cost her life.

  She steadied her breath, drawing in more of the tainted Ethra. Her choices were grim: fight and risk death, or survive and spend what little she had left on cleansing herself of the taint afterward.

  She took her stance again as the Corespawn spread its wings and plucked four feathers. They floated in the air above him, rotating like deadly blades.

  As if two swords weren't bad enough. Isolde swallowed, her gaze fixed on the creature's terrible grin.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Scared? Ready to beg for your life?" it taunted.

  Isolde said nothing.

  "You should be. All humans of the empire should be," it spat.

  "We will come down on you with the wrath of a hundred rifts and a thousand Corespawns. We'll tear your homes apart and convert your people into mindless beasts. Not even your empire or your cults can stand against us!"

  A large glowing axe smashed into its back mid-screech, sending the Corespawn crashing into the ground with a gash running the length of its spine.

  The creature screamed in agony and took to the skies, sending its feather blades flying toward the source of the attack.

  A ball of rock Ethra deflected them, the rock crumbling away to reveal a ragged, breathing Draven. Isolde quickly downed a healing elixir as Draven did the same.

  "Thought I'd let you die alone?" he asked, staggering but managing a smile.

  Isolde had never wanted to hug him so badly. She wiped a tear from her eye before they both turned back to the enraged creature above.

  "If we survive this," she began.

  "You mean if bird boy doesn't kill us first?" Draven joked, his pale face betraying his true condition.

  "Yes. If we survive," she said with a soft laugh.

  "I'll say yes to your proposal."

  Draven froze. Disbelief crossed his face.

  "To marry me?" he asked.

  She nodded. Draven sighed deeply, then pulled a black elixir from his void sack and downed it before Isolde could protest. A berserker elixir.

  "Why?" she asked, her voice soft but heavy with dread.

  "There's no other way," Draven grunted, his aura flaring as fury flooded his eyes.

  His muscles swelled, nearly doubling in size as his gauntlets strained to contain his growing hands, the metal screeching under the pressure.

  Berserker elixirs were dangerous. They flooded the ranker's system with energy and forced the heart to cycle Ethra at a lethal pace.

  The elixir often left users comatose for days and sometimes led to death outright. Isolde prayed silently that Draven had used a low-grade one as the Corespawn above unleashed another barrage of feather blades.

  With a roar, Draven stamped his feet, sending tremors rippling through the earth. Rocks erupted from the ground and hurtled toward the Corespawn.

  The creature sliced through them with ease, enduring the ones that struck home, its rage-filled eyes burning with reckless fury.

  Isolde summoned the dregs of her strength and spammed wind blades at the creature, using the rising rocks as platforms to clash with it midair.

  Her agility and instinct for survival helped her dodge the worst of its attacks, parrying the rest with her twin blades. She fought with reckless determination. She couldn't let Draven die. She couldn't leave her sister Emeryn alone in the world.

  With a primal scream, Isolde seized hold of the air itself with her wind affinity and hurled the Corespawn down to the ground in a concentrated burst of force. The move, a half-formed dominion technique, drained her Ethra reserves to dangerous lows, but it worked.

  The Corespawn crashed into the ground with a thunderous crack, wings broken and buried deep in the earth.

  Draven, sheathed in rock Ethra and wearing an impenetrable rock armor helm, stood over the creature, axe raised high.

  As the axe came down, the Corespawn lifted its feather blades in defense, but they crumbled under the sheer force of the blow.

  The axe bit deep into the creature's flesh. In a final desperate act, it drove a powerful punch into Draven, sending him flying backward.

  Isolde's heart lurched as she watched the Corespawn drag itself from the crater, a gash running from its face down to its chest healing slowly.

  The rage in its eyes burned brighter as it shrieked again, sending its remaining feathers floating into the air and casting a dark shadow over the battlefield.

  Shoulder heaving with exhaustion, the Corespawn stretched a hand toward them and launched the feather blades. Isolde gathered every last trace of Ethra in her body and released it in an explosion of wind, deflecting some of the blades off course.

  Draven, still staggering but burning with berserker fury, rushed the Corespawn as it seized two more feather blades and charged at him.

  The ground shook as Draven, his body blazing with rock Ethra, clashed with the enraged creature. Its primal fury shattered pieces of his rock armor, but Draven fought back, his axe biting deeper into its body with each exchange.

  Just as the Corespawn began compressing Draven's head between its hands, Isolde threw herself forward on her last burst of energy, blades whistling through the air toward the creature's neck.

  The Corespawn shrieked. The piercing cry destabilized her and she stumbled, rolling across the ground as the battle continued above.

  Looking up, she saw a feathered blade buried to the hilt in Draven's chest, the ranker down on one knee, his helm shattered to dust.

  She cried out helplessly.

  Then her gaze followed Draven's arm, his hand gripping the still-beating heart of the Corespawn, a hole punched clean through its chest.

  The winds stilled. The wings drooped. Blood sprayed across Draven's face before the creature slumped to the ground, its heart giving its last beat in his fist.

  Isolde rushed to Draven's side and cradled him as the rock armor crumbled away, revealing the wound where the feather blade had pierced his ribs.

  Sobbing softly, cursing the day she had ever become a disciple, she pulled out her last healing and life elixirs and poured them down his throat before ripping the blade free. Draven winced, patting his chest weakly as he spoke.

  "Flesh wound. Blade missed my lungs, thanks to the rock armor," he groaned, then passed out.

  She held him close, completely drained of Ethra, unable to move his heavy frame. She could only watch as the Corespawns and rift creatures began closing in, drawn by the scent of blood.

  Closing her eye, she held Draven's head to her chest and stared at the core that had appeared from the desiccating Corespawn.

  A valuable prize, enough to settle her debts and secure a better future. But it wouldn't matter. They were about to be torn apart.

  The tangy smell of rain filled the air. Isolde looked up to see darkening clouds overhead.

  Lightning crackled and a torrent of bolts struck down from the sky, annihilating the advancing creatures in a storm of pure destruction.

  The ground quaked beneath the earth-shattering strikes, and Isolde covered her head and prayed to the hegemons for salvation.

  A metallic hum filled the air, slicing through what remained of the creatures, and a figure landed before them. Wet-eyed, Isolde stared up at Elder Moros, who stood impassively, surveying the scene and the dead Corespawn.

  Moving calmly, Moros picked up the core and slipped it into his void ring. Isolde felt her heart clench at the sight, her hopes of a better future vanishing before her eyes.

  "Where is the wastelander?" Moros asked.

  "In the tunnels of the abandoned mines," she replied, choking back tears.

  "He told us to find you."

  Moros snorted.

  "Playing the hero. Probably dead by now. What did you see down there?"

  "A rift," she answered, shuddering.

  Moros's eyes widened. He pulled out a black rock etched with glowing blue symbols and placed it in her hands.

  "Take this and find shelter. Clan forces will be here soon," he said, before turning and heading toward the mine entrance.

  Isolde watched him go in silence, her gaze drifting up to the massive rift tear splitting the sky. They had survived. But her thoughts stayed on Tunde.

  Whatever awaited him in those tunnels, she hoped the hegemons were watching closely, because he was going to need it.

  ****

  Tunde raced through the empty tunnels at blinding speed, fueled by the rift energy still coursing through his body.

  Every Corespawn he encountered was reduced to a smear of blood and bone, his momentum unbroken as he followed the trail of rift energy pouring from somewhere deeper within.

  The relic drank it in eagerly as he pressed on.

  He came to a stop before a group of large, muscular tier 1 Corespawns guarding the entrance to another level. Twenty of them turned toward him with bellows of rage.

  Tunde stepped forward, and they froze, every one of them trembling where they stood. He noticed something gray wafting off his body, and it took him a moment to understand.

  His aura. He had unlocked his aura. But the moment he recognized it, it cut off abruptly.

  Sighing, he readied himself as the Corespawns shook off their fear and charged, some wielding crude weapons, others baring claws.

  The air resonated as Tunde blasted through them one by one. As their bodies fell, cores appeared among the remains, something that hadn't happened with the earlier spawns.

  He dodged an attack without effort, grabbed one Corespawn by the throat, and snapped its neck. The ones at the doors began roaring deeper into the tunnel. Tunde winced. An alarm had been raised.

  ****

  Kurl Rock Scale froze at the sound of the roar, turning to Jath, who stood staring at the rift entrance with a mixture of rage and confusion.

  Their allies had failed to deliver the promised rift cores. Though the rift Ethra was empowering both tier 2 Corespawns, it was also slowly killing them.

  The etchings carved into their bodies, following instructions from their allies, were supposed to stabilize the energy, but without the cores they couldn't cultivate the rift power they so desperately needed.

  The wrath of Clan Verdan now loomed over them, and they had nothing to show for it.

  "Check that roar," Jath ordered.

  "If it's our allies trying to reach us, hold them until I arrive. If it's the clan, kill them."

  "What if it's the adept?" Kurl asked.

  "No adept would sneak through tunnels. Their egos wouldn't allow it," Jath replied.

  Kurl nodded and set off at a run toward his base, leaving Jath alone to contemplate their failing plans.