A shallow basket filled with an assortment of fruits and vegetables shook around as it followed the steady rhythm of Maya’s stroll. Held up by two hands while she looked at the different contents of the stall in front of her.

  Nikolai stood by her side. Eyes scanning.

  Always scanning.

  But this time more subtle — it was important to not look like they were alert, when everything else around them is showing that they shouldn’t be.

  Clouds littered the sky in multiple long specks. There were enough that the sunlight barely shone through. The humidity was worse today.

  But the markets in the square was busier than usual.

  Loud.

  The shrine in the farthest end of the edge of the market sat soundly. Its ornamental pieces surrounding it appearing out of place due to its shininess and delicateness in contrast to the wooden and stone foundations.

  Its thin tower held nothing but the bell that rang out at random times throughout the day.

  The attendees in the square frequented the shrine — some to pray, some to place offerings, others just to view and visit with a loved one.

  A sense of unsettledness still remained in the air — Maya and Nikolai well aware.

  “Please, please take a look before you go!” the man attending the stall giddily says to Maya, holding out a dagger similar to the one wrapped around her thigh.

  Maya hesitates, before lifting a hand up and declining.

  “Twenty ema pieces! No—” the man pauses before blurting out, “fifteen! Oh— ten!”

  Maya made sure to smile at him as she walks away.

  “I am willing to go down to eight because you’re so pretty!” he yells out over the crowd as he laughs to himself.

  Weird.

  But Maya was struck from the genuinity in his voice.

  “Eight ema coins for that is absurdly low,” Maya whispers to herself.

  She wasn’t wrong, especially considering the quality that the dagger seemed, showcased by the intricate flow of engravings across the blade.

  Maya’s thoughts were disturbed by the sound of the toll of the bell.

  It sounded just like all the other times. But something felt incorrect.

  Nearby, a child — looking no older than the age of seven — tugs at his mother’s dress while he pointed at candied fruit being hung on the stall.

  His fingers start to curl around her dress as his body becomes rigid, before collapsing on the ground.

  The sound was dull. Small.

  A body too light to strike the earth with force.

  Maya’s hands tightened around the basket that she held.

  No one screamed.

  No one gasped.

  The mother turned around and sighed instead.

  No panic, neither confusion.

  Annoyance.

  She crouched and rolled the boy on his back. His eyes blankly stared at the sky and a thin line of blood trickled down the side of his cheek.

  “Oh come now, dear.”

  Her tone was too calm for what just happened. “It had to be while I am looking for my ingredients?”

  She took out a napkin and wiped the blood off his cheek.

  Maya instinctively took a step forward.

  Nikolai was already in front of her, blocking her path.

  “No,” he whispers.

  No physical contact, no eye contact, and no sense of urgency in his voice.

  Maya understood.

  A small moment passed before the child took a sudden deep breath like his face had broken the surface of water to catch his breath.

  “There, see?” the mother reassured him. “That’s always how it happens.” Although sounding more like it was directed to herself.

  The bell rung once more — it felt dull, everything did — this time Maya felt the shift in the air as it constricted around her like a snake around its prey.

  “Just because you can speak now, doesn’t mean you can ignore me when you want,” Amia says to the tall figure by the window — Artemis.

  Amia did not look up while she spoke as she finished wiping her hands with the rag that she previously had thrown to the ground during their little ‘introduction’.

  Her recent purchase of the new bow and quiver of arrows sat shinily on the table, in place of her katana that would normally lay.

  She knew that Artemis wouldn’t ignore her.

  Prodding.

  Testing.

  Artemis stood by the curtain where Nikolai tended to frequent in the same manner. Observing.

  Almost unmoving.

  In the distance the bell tolled.

  It sounded the same as it did like all the other times since they first heard it. Only this time, it felt different.

  Without blinking an eyelid and without turning her focus away from the gap between the curtain and the window, Artemis spoke.

  “They found us.”

  Copper and iron-like scent struck Amia’s sense of smell. The direction was not clear.

  It was not the type of smell that would tend to belong to Magick, it was almost unrecognisable.

  The scent of musk and wildflower soon followed.

  Wildflower.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Concentrated.

  Perfume.

  Artemis’ hand above her katana clasped at its sheath by her belt.

  The bell tolled once more.

  A strong and forceful thud rocked the door.

  Followed by another.

  And another.

  “Open up!”

  The pair’s heads snapped towards the sound at the door. The boards and panels flexing with each force being exerted behind it.

  “We just want to talk!”

  In the distance, a sound cracked in the air, akin to lightning.

  Maya could feel her aura being pushed inwards by an unseen force.

  She was not exerting any, but she was certain that whatever it was, it made her body feel like it was being plunged into cold water.

  The bell rung once more, and the feeling of constriction struck again.

  Someone bumped into Maya and the basket fell from her hands, spilling an array of fruits and vegetables onto the ground.

  The person simply turned their head and apologised while walking off.

  “Sorry.”

  Maya did not look at where the basket had gone, instead forcing her way through the crowd until she reached where no one stood, right in front of the shallow steps into the open shrine.

  The cloud cleared enough to allow sunlight to break through. Its rays lighting up the shadow that previously had covered the figure sitting cross-legged on the small altar.

  Around them in the distance, three men unfurled their cloaks wrapped around them — one immediately casting.

  Destructive High Magick Art, Raze Incantation No. 6.

  Maya’s eyes barely registered the movement.

  But she didn’t have to.

  A body stood in the path between her and the incoming incantation.

  Yellow sparks flew as Nikolai sheltered the blast with Light Defensive Magick. Reminiscent to what the pair had seen surrounding Amia at the bridge when Maya struck her.

  A small grunt escaped Nikolai, his right arm and shoulder smoking from the after-effect of the spell.

  Around them multiple legs scattered in all directions as the crowd dispersed.

  Screams of fear filled the air as villagers tried to make sense of what had just happened. Bodies colliding against one another, a stall getting torn down as a lady gets thrown into its counter.

  Maya had her hands down by her sides in her ready stance, and Nikolai stood by her, blade drawn.

  The panicked sound of the crowd started to fade as more and more people found their escape, although not fully.

  There was no movement from the six after the first attack.

  Yet.

  Until the man at the altar uncrossed his legs and stood up. Giving a slow and taunting clap.

  “We found you,” he smirked.

  A cold shiver ran up Maya’s back when the man walked into the sunlight and locked eyes with Maya.

  He did not look hurried.

  Not even threatened.

  He looked…curious.

  His robes were simple. Pale. Clean. Ink stains along the cuffs. Thin strips of parchment hung from the wooden beams behind him, tied in loops that swayed gently in the air.

  “You’ve been difficult to isolate,” he said calmly.

  Maya’s breath caught.

  Her aura tried to rise instinctively — but something pressed against it. Not outwards.

  Inwards.

  Like invisible palms flattening against her ribs.

  Her fingers twitched.

  Nothing.

  Shimmers of blue hue that would normally gather at her wrists flickered — then snapped back inside her like it had been swallowed.

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “That pressure. You feel it, don’t you?”

  Maya’s teeth clenched.

  It wasn’t suppression.

  It was compression.

  Her power was there — but it felt like it had folded in on itself.

  Nikolai stepped half a pace forward, blade drawn across himself.

  “Master.”

  The word was low. Controlled.

  Warning.

  One of the men to the left shifted his stance, whilst another began forming sigils.

  The altar man lifted a hand slightly — and they stopped.

  “No. Not yet.”

  He studied Maya.

  “Let us see how much she can endure.”

  The pressure increased, and Maya’s knees almost buckled.

  Her lungs tightened as if submerged underwater. The memory of the tunnel. The library. Her father’s final breath.

  It pressed inwards.

  Her aura flickered again — thin blue cracks appeared across her skin like fractured glass — and vanished.

  She could not shape it.

  The man smiled.

  “Structured Magick incantations are inefficient under compression, and Raze incantations relies on expansion.”

  He tapped his chest lightly.

  “But this — this bypasses all of that.”

  Maya fell to one knee as a hand held up the rest of her weight.

  “He—” Maya gasped for a breath. "He's the watchtower.”

  Nikolai moved fully in front of her now.

  His defensive Magick sparked faintly — but even it seemed thinner.

  A small crashing sound filled the air — the sound of glass breaking — heard through even the low rumble in Maya’s ears.

  The altar man’s gaze shifted slightly past Maya’s shoulder.

  And the sound of a faint whistle slicing through the air soon followed.

  Sharp.

  Fast.

  Precise.

  His expression did not change — but his hand moved.

  A fist raised up to the front of his face.

  The arrow stopped inches from his eye. Its wooden shaft quivered violently in midair.

  He flinched — and that was enough.

  Dark blue aura roared around Maya as her spiritual energy came back to life.

  With anger.

  And malice.

  The dark-blue for a split moment shifted to a hue of light purple.

  Raze Incantation No. 15: Dragon’s Bane.

  Three crescent-like waves of energy sliced through the air towards him, and before it even reached its intended target, Maya had already held her hands to her sides and fired — one blast each.

  The altar man released the arrow and twisted — the first two arcs slicing across his shoulder instead of his throat. Cloth and skin split. Blood sprayed across the steps.

  The third shattered the lower shrine steps in an eruption of dust and debris.

  The two remaining blasts fired by Maya to her side travelled through the air and struck their intended targets with the malice that she had released.

  The arrow dropped harmlessly onto the stone below.

  In the distance at the far corner of the square, Amia’s and Artemis’ boots dug into the dirt as they sprinted towards Maya and Nikolai.

  Behind them, two more cloaked figures bounded from the shattered window behind them. Giving chase.

  Amia had her bow raised in front of her — pulled.

  And released.

  In a fraction of a second, the third cloaked man standing behind Maya and Nikolai dropped to the ground.

  The man at the altar staggered on his feet, desperately trying to keep himself upright.

  Maya held a hand in front of her.

  Destructive High Magick Art, Raze Incantation No. 20

  Stronger versions of her previous blasts to the two cloaked man on her sides — this time directed at the man at the altar.

  The man threw his arm up — the collision of Maya’s blast and his defensive attempt with Magick threw energy into an explosion in front of him.

  A dull rumble by the bell groaned across the square as it reverberated from the aftershock.

  Silence slowly descended in synchronicity with the rubble and dust that slowly settled.

  The altar steps were shattered.

  Three cloaked bodies did not rise.

  But the man remained standing.

  Barely.

  Blood ran down his arm and across his ribs. His previously immaculate robes stained dark.

  The man at the altar coughed out a pool of blood onto the ground in front of him as he looked at the arrow that laid beside it.

  His smile grew wider.

  “Good,” he whispers.

  He stomps a foot onto the floor and the ground beneath the square began to tremble.

  “Looks like we really did find you.”