Vaeris moved before the echo of the rifle faded.

  Her wand snapped into her hand as she pivoted toward the direction of the shot, violet light flaring along the carved runes of the shaft. Her mind raced through possibilities with cold precision.

  Sniper.

  High ground.

  Ben lay face-down on the basalt where he had fallen.

  Not moving.

  Something hot and sharp gripped Vaeris’ chest, but she crushed the emotion flat before it could bloom. Panic killed faster than bullets.

  “Thorn!” she snapped.

  The demon was already moving.

  Across the training ground Thorn launched from his rock in a blur of wings and claws, eyes wide with terror as he flew toward Ben’s fallen body.

  “NO—”

  The second shot cracked across the valley.

  Stone exploded beside Thorn in a spray of shards.

  The little demon skidded sideways, wings flaring instinctively.

  Another shot.

  Closer.

  The impacts walked across the basalt in precise, deliberate spacing.

  The sniper wasn’t trying to hit Thorn.

  He was herding him. Keeping him away from Ben.

  Vaeris’ eyes narrowed. Professional.

  She swept her awareness outward.

  The mana field across the valley remained calm. No active spellcasting. No distortion. Whoever had fired that shot was using conventional weapons.

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  Her gaze snapped to the ridgeline north of the training flats.

  There.

  A faint glint of metal against dark stone.

  Without hesitation Vaeris thrust her wand downward.

  Mana surged through the ground.

  The basalt answered her call.

  The earth erupted.

  Jagged black spikes tore upward from the training flats in a violent line racing toward the ridgeline. Stone spears punched skyward one after another like the spine of some colossal beast rising from the earth.

  The ridgeline vanished behind a forest of jagged basalt.

  A third shot cracked.

  The round slammed into one of the newly formed spires instead of Thorn.

  Good.

  That meant the sniper was adjusting.

  Thinking.

  Which meant they were still there.

  “Thorn!” Vaeris barked again.

  The demon ignored her completely.

  He had reached Ben.

  Thorn dropped to his knees beside him, clawed hands grabbing at Ben’s shoulders, trying to turn him over.

  “Ben… No…”

  His voice cracked through the air, raw and panicked.

  She scanned the valley again.

  Movement.

  Two shapes cresting the far edge of the basalt flats.

  They advanced with calm, disciplined spacing.

  Hunters.

  The first stepped forward through drifting ash.

  Tall.

  Immaculate.

  Silver-white hair cropped short along one side of her head.

  Even from this distance Vaeris recognized the posture instantly. Authority wrapped in surgical precision.

  Helena Voss.

  Vaeris’ expression hardened.

  Of course.

  Behind Voss, the other figure veered off, flanking across the broken ground.

  Voss moved with measured, analytical pacing, scanning the battlefield as if solving a puzzle.

  The other carried the unmistakable stance of a combat caster, holding a lance of pure kinetic force.

  The sniper remained out of sight. And who knew how many others.

  Vaeris calculated.

  Ben down.

  Thorn distracted.

  The sniper controlling the field.

  Her fingers tightened on her wand.

  “Thorn,” she said quietly through her commlink.

  The demon didn’t look up.

  “He’s not waking up.”

  She could feel his pain.

  “Thorn,” she said sternly. “Stop. I need your help, and I need you to think. Disappear and take the shooter on the ridge. I can’t spare the attention.”

  “O-okay... Right… Yes. I can do that.” Conviction filled his voice, and he vanished.

  Her gaze snapped back toward the approaching hunters. Helena Voss met her eyes across the battlefield.

  Even at this distance Vaeris could see the faint, clinical curiosity in the woman’s expression.

  Like a scholar observing a particularly interesting insect.

  Vaeris’ lips curled into a thin smile.

  “So,” she murmured. Her voice carried softly across the battlefield. “You came yourself.”

  Helena Voss tilted her head slightly.

  Recognition flickered. “Lady Grimleaf.”

  Vaeris’ smile widened. Her eyes locked onto Voss.

  “Good,” she said quietly. “Then you know who I am.”

  The air around her began to hum as mana gathered.

  Vaeris, the mentor, had stepped aside.

  Archmage Lady Grimleaf—the Silver Witch of the Burning Vale—had taken the field.