“Did… did he just fuckin leave?” Aeyona shouted as Malastare vanished.

  She ducked behind the well. An arrow thudded into the stone just above her head. She pressed her back to the rough surface, panting. The air tasted like dust and copper. Her heart rattled in her chest. Marvel’s cat form deftly landed beside her with a light thump.

  She peeked around the edge of the mossy stones. Three more of the bandits were closing fast, blades drawn. Their boots tore up dirt as they moved. Their breathing was heavy, ragged, like animals drunk on adrenaline. Their faces were smeared with blood and grime. One had a strip of torn cloth tied tight around a bleeding shoulder, the fabric already soaked through.

  None of them looked certain who to kill first. Their eyes darted between her, Marvel, and Alkibiades. She hoped they’d pick the man in steel.

  Aeyona raised her hands, willing power into them. She felt the energy coil up in her palms, warm and volatile. She imagined it taking shape. Something sharp, something powerful, something she could control.

  Instead, it formed into a throbbing, shapeless blob of blue energy. It pulsed against her grip. It hummed angrily, energy trying to unravel itself in every direction, like it had a mind of its own.

  “Shit,” she muttered, and hurled it.

  The unstable orb lobbed through the air, awkward and slow. It bounced off the dirt between two of the bandits.

  “You missed, bitch!” one of them barked out with a laugh.

  Then it hit the third man square in the stomach, and exploded.

  A shockwave tore through his body. Muscles rippled and shredded under the force. Blood sprayed in arcs across the field as pieces of him dropped where he stood. Flesh slapped wetly against the dirt. Something warm and thick struck the well beside her with a splat.

  The laughter died.

  An arc of blue lightning snapped out from the blast. It latched onto the sword of the man on the left. The current raced across the blade, searing into his hand with a sizzle.

  The lightning crawled up his body, in a perfect burning path, before exiting through his foot into the earth. His body jerked and twisted before he hit the ground, still convulsing.

  The man on the right was thrown forward by the blast, scrambling to catch himself. He landed face-first a few feet from Alkibiades, who calmly brought his steel boot down on the back of his skull. The sound was dull and final, like a dropped melon.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Can you throw things just a little farther from me?” Al called out with a sigh. Half-turned toward Aeyona, he hefted his mace again. Blood ran in a line down the haft.

  The next wave of bandits hesitated. One of the younger ones glanced around, eyes wide. He started to bolt, panic plain in every twitch of his limbs. Another grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back toward the fight.

  “Is that all you got, you cowards?” Al shouted, pointing straight at the one who pushed.

  A growl rumbled through the field. Something low and feral. The sound pulled everyone's attention.

  Marvel leapt onto the rim of the well. Her small feline body stretched, twisted, grew. Fur rippled into new shapes. Limbs thickened, claws lengthened.

  Her paws landed with weight that shook the dirt. The housecat was gone, replaced by something primal and full of rage.

  She bolted forward, a blur of muscle and teeth. She smashed into the pushed bandit with enough force to knock him cold before leaping again. The giant panther soared over four of the others, who had already pissed themselves from fear.

  Marvel landed on the man Al had pointed toward. Her paws hit his chest like an anvil. She let her claws sink in, feeling the bones give beneath her weight. He tried to scream but his air had escaped already. His body didn’t move again.

  She spun, snarling. One bandit turned to flee. He made it three steps before her jaws clamped around his leg and dragged him screaming into the dirt. Then she yanked him into the air and slammed him back down. His face struck a half-buried stone and went limp.

  The rest dropped their weapons. Three remained, shaking. They raised their hands. One of them dropped to his knees, shouting for surrender. Begging mercy.

  Marvel stood over them, a breath away, teeth bared. Her fur was matted with blood. She roared into their faces, but didn’t strike.

  Alkibiades strode up, hammer lowered but ready. He looked at the three and grimaced.

  “Where are the others?” he demanded.

  One of them choked on his words. “It’s just us. Please don’t kill us. Please.”

  Al dropped his hammer with a hefty thud and grabbed him by the collar. “Not you. The people who live here. Where are they?”

  The man opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. He gagged, eyes widening. Blood dripped down from his tear ducts. Thick, black-red. It looked like his body was crying out what his voice could not.

  Al let go, startled. He stepped back as the man collapsed. The others followed suit. Their skin paled to paper white, as veins turned black and rose like ink beneath.

  They convulsed, clawing at their arms and throats. Nails shredded skin trying to reach the agony inside. They made no sound except for wet, bubbling gurgles. Finally, they collapsed on the dirt, lifeless.

  Malastare stood behind them, hand outstretched. His face was calm, cold. His eyes didn’t blink.

  “What the hell?” Al snapped. “They gave up. We still don’t know where the survivors are.”

  “There are none,” Malastare said, voice flat. “They made sure of that when they saw us. At least, the ones still in one piece.”

  Behind them, a sob broke through the silence. Al turned.

  The two women they had managed to save were standing near the barn. One was staring at the bodies, frozen, hands trembling. The other dropped to her knees. Then the first followed, both of them weeping. Their cries were soft at first. Then they turned raw. Ragged sounds. Shaking shoulders. Grief turned loose into the open air.

  Al turned back to Malastare with disbelief in his eyes.

  Malastare didn’t flinch. He turned to Horren, who was walking toward the well.

  “Did we bore you, dwarf?” he chided.

  Horren let out a low grunt, then grabbed the bucket. “You guys had it covered.” He dunked it into the water, splashing it over his face and arms. Then he added, “Someone had to watch the girls.” His tone held a quiet bite.

  Aeyona stood still, watching them both. Her hands were still tingling from the spell. She looked down at the eviscerated bodies. One of them twitched. She felt her stomach lurch.

  She hadn’t meant for that. She just wanted to stop them. She only wanted to help.

  Her hands started shaking. She closed them into fists. The blood on her fingers was still warm.

  Marvel was still in her larger form, sniffing near the buildings. A moment later she padded quietly back toward Lillyth, lowering her head. Aeyona followed, steps uneven on the churned-up dirt.

  Alkibiades looked around. The bodies, the blood, the smoke curling into the darkening sky.

  “Care to help?” he muttered, eyes toward the sky.

  No one answered.