After the assassins had all been taken care of, several things happened. Emi ran over to help Adama, lifting an Elixir to his lips and mumbling: “Please be okay. Please be okay.”

  Miraculously, Adama was still alive, and he drank from the golden liquid vial even while unconscious. His wounds healed, color returning to his face as his eyes shot open. He sat up as everyone heard the roar of Red Dragons boom out from overhead. Most of the adventurers and elves froze, but Adama was up and barking out orders: “Grab the assassin’s cloaks. Emi start the chant for the shield. Everyone into the canyon.”

  The whole party snapped into motion. They managed to grab the cloaks and jump into the canyon as the Red Dragons swooped downward, surrounding their little clearing and kindling fire in their throats. Right as the dragons shot out their breath attacks, Emi finished her chant: “Rock of Ages!”

  She winced as the fire made contact, the shield obviously straining under the pressure, yet Adama’s orders continued: “Elves, start making a tent with the cloaks. Cover all of us, but give me room to Mix.”

  They did as ordered, Emi’s shield holding up the entire time despite the pressure. In the meantime, Adama chugged some antidotes and turned to the table. Lilli had bungled the cure attempt she’d been making, which wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t a Mixer after all, and she’d been forced to actually use real ingredients to trick the assassins. There were only enough materials for one more attempt. And there was another problem. Adama felt the assassin’s poison running through his veins, kept at bay by the restorative power of the Elixir and the cleansing power of the antidotes. They would only defend him for so long, however. He’d been dosed with the same kind of poison as Naaza had been and would likely fall into a coma in short order. Adama falling into a coma right now would ensure the heart ran out of energy, making this whole journey a failure. Every second counted, so he’d have to brew the cure without delay. He’d have to hope that his body could hold up for long enough.

  As Emi was holding up the barrier, the elves used their Mind to power the assassin’s magical cloaks and conceal their entire party. The dragons eventually cut off their fire, perplexed to see their prey vanish under their noses. Emi’s shield dropped as she finally hit her limit, but it didn’t matter. The dragons flew away, their efforts frustrated. Now, everything hinged on how long Adama could remain conscious. He mixed, filtered, and ground at a rapid speed, sweating buckets as he fought for consciousness the entire time. Hours passed, and everyone held their breath as Adama performed his work in total, focused silence. Eventually, he could hold things back no longer. Adama poured one last bottle into a beaker and collapsed backward, eyes rolling back into his head as he passed out. The solution in the beaker bubbled, then turned a light pink.

  Emily shuffled over, trying to help Adama and then looking at the liquid curiously, asking: “Shouldn’t it be a dark green?”

  Lilli looked onward, then suddenly lunged forward, grabbing another yellow liquid on the table and pouring it into the pink beaker. The liquid swirled around, turning a dark green just like Emi had asked. When she looked at Lilli, the young prum shrugged: “You’re right. It should be dark green. Mr. Adama passed out at the final step, but he already talked to me about the recipe’s process. The final parts of the recipe are the easiest. Mr. Adama did it!”

  Emi looked back at the swordsman worriedly: “But what happened with him? This seems like more than just tiredness.”

  Valar interjected: “It seems like Master Adama has been poisoned, Lady Emily. Just like Lady Naaza. We need to pick up the potion and leave immediately.”

  She nodded, slinging the man over her shoulder and standing up. Lilli bottled up the cure, packed away the Mixing equipment and the remainder of the ingredients, and started walking away. They were now on to the final hurdle of their adventure.

  …

  The walk out of the valley was arduous. Two of the elves had been killed by the Master of Assassins, leaving their bodies to be carried by the remaining able-bodied party members. They could have left the bodies, of course, but Valar wanted both elves buried in their homeland, and nobody disagreed. With three burdens and Adama out of commission, things got exponentially more difficult. Emi’s magic saved the day; her buffs and attacks enough to clear out any major problems, but she also ran up against an absolute limit. She ran out of mana potions and fell into Mind down as the party neared the valley's edge, creating a fourth burden for the elves. Fortunately, they managed to use the assassins’ cloaks and a bit of luck to avoid what few monsters stood in their way for the final leg of the journey.

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  With all that said, every last party member was on the last of their stamina as they exited the final crevice. The hot sun, the regular exertion, and the general lack of rest had put them all on the edge of death. Valar longed to make camp here, but he knew he couldn’t. Monsters still appeared at the valley's edge, and a single group of Salamaders would likely wipe them out easily with the shape that they were in. The party needed to keep going into the Fanache forest, where relatively few monsters dwelled. There, they could make camp and finally rest a bit. The elves kept trudging onward until they finally felt it—the cold.

  Fanache was experiencing a massive blizzard right now, blocking their path outward. Valar quickly decided to turn around, choosing to have their party try camping the edge of the valley rather than walk through a blizzard. But as luck would have it, they wouldn’t get the chance. A small group of Salamanders had followed the adventurers out of the valley, and Valar’s ears picked up their footsteps soon after he ordered their party to turn around. The elf leader could only sigh, too tired to even cry as he turned their party around yet again. They would have to lose the Salamanders in the blizzard.

  The elves trudged through deep snow, sweat freezing to their foreheads and bodies, and Valar finally realized how hopeless things were. Both of their Level 3s were out of commission, their supplies were running thin, and it would be almost impossible to locate their elven allies in a storm like this. They’d come all this way just to die. The only one who hadn’t fully lost hope was their prum companion. She trudged forward with a strength of will that he could scarcely believe, calling out encouragement and making suggestions. She was the weakest of all of them, yet was seemingly indefatigable in the face of these odds. Her determination helped Valar keep his head up and keep moving. If they were truly going to die here, it would only be after they exhausted every effort.

  That said, they were all teetering at the edge of consciousness. The party needed rest. The prum girl found a spot on the side of a large boulder, shielded somewhat from the snow and the wind, and they agreed to make camp there and try to start a fire. Despite her shaking hands, the prum girl soon got a blazing campfire going, and the elves huddled around it in a frantic attempt to get warm. Valar felt himself get lightheaded as he stared into the flames, hands burning as he held them up to the heat.

  The party pulled out some of the last of their food and water and chowed down, their conditions improving marginally just before their fates were finally sealed. The winds changed direction, cruelly snuffing out their fire and hitting them with a sudden wall of cold snow. This change of temperature sapped what little strength the elves had managed to regain. They had already been sitting down, and most of them simply refused to get up. Valar struggled to his feet and tried to rouse a listless Theresa, to no avail. Lilli was also trying to encourage the others to get up, with no success either. The elf commander sidled over to her, shouting to be heard over the wind: “I’ll try to find help! You stay here and try to keep them alive!”

  It was a pretty lie, but a lie nonetheless. They were likely far from any elven outpost, and it was unlikely that he would even be able to see such a thing in this whiteout, even if they weren’t. Not to mention the fact that separating in a blizzard like this was practically a guarantee that they would never see each other again. The truth was, Valar just wanted to die on his feet, having tried everything he could. Lilli knew all of this, and even so she nodded. Valar stood up straight, martialed his will, and walked out into the blizzard. He didn’t know how long he’d walked for, nor did he even remember collapsing, and yet the elven commander eventually found himself face down in the snow. He tried to rise and couldn’t. He tried to breathe and could barely find the energy. All he could ultimately do was send out a prayer to whomever might be listening before falling fast asleep. The elves had never had a high regard for the gods, but who knew? Maybe one of them would take pity on him anyway. They were on a mission to save some of the divinities’ own kind, after all.

  As Valar lay there, a petite figure suddenly appeared from within the whiteout. She knelt down, icy blue eyes examining the man with worry, before rustling in her pack for a potion. Footsteps from nearby heralded the arrival of more of her kind, who soon also found the group Valar had left behind. The elves of Fanache had found their lost friends.

  …

  It was a close thing, but none of the elves or adventurers died of hypothermia that day. They would learn later that Hali had convinced her father to let her bring a few men to wait for the adventurers, the elves planning to greet their friends when they finished their quest. Or see them home safely if necessary. She and her group had been inside an igloo when the storm hit, but one of her men had a spell for scanning his surroundings in a broad range. He’d cast said spell speculatively, only to find Adama’s party stumbling around in the blizzard and trying to stay alive. The lost party had been far away, so the elves had been grateful to get there in time. When everyone finally woke up from their cold-induced comas and learned what’d happened, Hali received endless praise and gratitude, much to the delight and embarrassment of the shy girl.

  The elves of Fanache offered to let the party stay for a month or two, but they were on a tight schedule. They spent a week recovering from their whole ordeal, then said their goodbyes. Adama, funnily enough, was still unconscious due to the poison, though his condition had been stabilized thanks to the efforts of the northern elves and his own antidotes. He’d live, and importantly, he’d accomplished his mission. Eight vials of cure were stashed away in Lilli’s pack, and the assassin threat had been neutralized. The adventurers charted a course for Orario and began the trek back.

  They were going home.