The world plunged into chaos the instant the druid hydrokinetic appeared. Bjorn reacted a split second before Freja, yanking her to the ground just as a spear of water hissed through the air, slicing the tree where her head had been. A heartbeat later, the tree cracked and splintered under the impact. Bjorn’s senses flared as his tongues flicked. He could taste the magic that saturated the air around them, much of it far more powerful than anything he had sensed before aside from Lord Ulfar himself. Explosions erupted in the direction of the town, each one a distant thunderclap of destruction.

  Embla was already in motion, twin blades drawn, sprinting toward the mage who had emerged farther down the riverbank. The druid unleashed another devastating attack, obliterating a portion of the dock with a burst of mana-infused water. Bjorn didn’t know how many lives were lost in that one strike, but the sheer power made his scales itch with unease.

  “Artillery magic…” Freja murmured, her voice barely audible.

  Bjorn tugged her arm urgently, but she remained frozen, terror rooting her in place. Her fear rippled through their bond like a cold wave, sharp and suffocating. Snarling, Bjorn swung his body around and slapped her across the face with his tail.

  The sharp sting snapped her out of it. “Ow!” Freja cried, glaring at him. “Thanks, but we need to go! There could be survivors and the ísi are in the town!”

  She scrambled to her feet, staying low as her frantic gaze darted around the chaos. Bjorn growled his agreement, his eyes flicking back to the ongoing battle. Embla was locked in combat with the hydrokinetic, the fight a blur. Both combatants enhanced their speed with magic, moving faster than Bjorn’s eyes could follow. He caught flashes of Embla’s blades slicing through torrents of water, only for the druid to retaliate with liquid tendrils that ripped through soil and stone. Each exchange scarred the battlefield, craters and fractures marring the land as water and darkness clashed violently.

  “Bjorn, look up!” Failsafe’s voice screamed in his mind. “We’ve got company!”

  Bjorn barely had time to register the warning before he was snatched into the air. Massive talons clamped around his scaly body, their grip slicing through his hide like razors. He heard Freja’s scream below as the ground fell away in a blur of motion. The monstrous bird carried him high above the chaos with just a few powerful flaps.

  From the elevation he saw the full devastation of the village. Blood and death tainted the air, the scent thick even at this distance. Spells ignited across the town like fireworks, and figures clashed in the streets. Some fought for their lives, while others fell motionless amid the wreckage. Ash and smoke billowed into the sky as flames consumed homes and lives.

  “It’s a familiar,” Failsafe said grimly. “You have to get away from it.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Bjorn growled, his tone venomous. “But I’m not about to be hunted by an overgrown pigeon!”

  He focused his magic and it channeled with an ease born of his animal nature. Sickly green vapor hissed from his claws as he twisted, wrapping himself around the bird’s leg. He clawed and bit at the creature, his attacks barely scratching its mana-fortified hide.

  The familiar screeched, its mana flaring as it retaliated, trying to dislodge him with brutal kicks. Each strike tore into his body, but Bjorn endured, his determination fueled by sheer rage. Finally, his claws found purchase, a shallow cut drawing blood.

  The bird screamed in outrage as his venom entered its bloodstream. Its movements grew erratic as even its wings started to falter. Together, they plummeted from the sky, Bjorn clawing and defending himself as the bird thrashed in panic.

  The river rose to meet them and with a final kick infused with wind magic Bjorn was dislodged. He hit the water with a bone-jarring impact. The current tossed him like a ragdoll, his body battered and bleeding. Yet even as pain threatened to overwhelm him, he felt his wounds beginning to knit closed.

  He didn’t have the energy to swim but he could stay under for a long time if need be. A hand grabbed him pulling him toward the riverbank. He didn’t have the energy to resist and didn’t need to when he felt the bond.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” Freja said, her voice strained as she swam them both to safety.

  They reached the shore, water streaming from their clothes and wounds, but before they could regroup, a jet of water blasted them apart. The impact hurled Bjorn back into the river, half-submerged once more, while Freja sprawled out on the muddy ground.

  The attack was powerful, but not lethal, likely a calculated insult from their enemy. Bjorn coughed and sputtered, his body sluggish as his injuries resisted healing. He turned his head weakly toward the source of the attack, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

  Embla staggered, her right arm severed at the shoulder, blood pouring freely from the wound. A second, brutal jet of water tore through her abdomen, leaving a gaping hole. She crumpled to her knees, then fell sideways, her near lifeless body hitting the ground.

  The druid stood over her, his staff gleaming with residual magic. He was wounded, with blood staining his robes and gashes criss crossing his flesh, but his injuries were superficial compared to hers. He snickered, then spat on Embla’s face with disdain.

  “Pathetic,” the druid muttered

  He then turned his attention upward to his descending bird. The massive creature landed with an audible thump instead of its usual graceful glide, letting out a distressed cry. Bjorn could tell it was some type of large falcon nearly as tall as the man himself. Its feathers were disheveled, and green venom sizzled from its beak alongside flecks of blood.

  “That’s a nasty venom,” the druid said.

  The man crouched beside the bird and pressed his hand against its chest. He murmured a word of power, and a faint glow surrounded them. The bird screeched, its body convulsing as it spat out more venomous sludge and blood. Then, with a sharp inhale, it steadied itself. It flapped its massive wings triumphantly, its recovery complete. The druid smirked, pulling out a potion from his pouch. He drank half before offering the rest to the bird, which gulped it down greedily.

  “Remind me to claim that creature’s corpse when this is over,” the druid mused, addressing his familiar. “I want to dissect it. And next time, don’t get bitten by something obviously venomous.” His gaze shifted to Freja, his expression darkening with malice. “Now, for the little cannibal savage. I’ll send you to the Infernal Planes, right after this one.”

  He kicked Embla so hard she flew into Freja several over twenty yards away.

  “We can’t win against that.” Failsafe said.

  Bjorn hissed and slid back into the water. “Not head on. We need to catch them off guard and fast. I have a plan.”

  ***

  Embla’s bloodied form landed on top of Freja. She was still alive but only barely conscious. A normal person would be dead but Embla was a powerful mage, her body a vessel for magic which could keep her alive through far more than a normal person. This was the difference between a wizard, which had magic to some extent and a mage that wreathed themselves in mana. She would die if not treated but she had a chance if they got out of this.

  Freja could feel Bjorn’s connection and his emotions; there wasn’t a hint of quit in him even as he slowly backed into the water. She looked at the bloodied pool, the familiar bond telling her he was still very much in the fight. She readied herself, using his emotions to bolster her own survival instincts and suppress her fear. This was one of the main purposes of the delta familiar emotion sharing. They could strengthen each other's resolve in the face of any odds.

  She had no reservations that this was a losing battle. This was a real druid war mage and his delta familiar, nothing like the dying one she’d killed in the forest. She had no real offensive magic beside her basic self defense, nothing that could even come close to an actual war mage's power. However, she would do whatever it took to survive.

  She moved Embla to the side and stood up holding the war staff she had and pulling the knife from her bindill. Her magic exploded within her, charged mana permeated every fiber of her muscles, every tendon and bone. She heightened her senses to the limits of her current capability and stood up. If she was going to die, she was going to die standing.

  “Bring it, tree fucker,” Freja screamed indignantly.

  The druid laughed, his face a twisted mask of amusement and contempt. He raised his staff, and three shimmering orbs of water materialized, orbiting him with lethal intent. His magic surged without the need for incantations. It was a level of mastery that set him far above anything Freja could hope to match.

  The first stream of water shot toward her head, and Freja dodged to the side, her movements swift but far from skillful. The ground where she had stood exploded into splinters of rock and dirt. Another stream followed instantly, forcing her to leap again as it carved deep gouges into the terrain.

  “Maybe this will be fun after all,” the druid said with a smile stretched across his face.

  Freja whispered the only offensive incantation she knew, focusing her magic through the war staff. The weapon responded, amplifying her meager spell into something greater. Heat radiated from the staff’s tip, and a small sphere of fire flickered to life, its flame shifting from brilliant orange to a vibrant blue under the staff's influence.

  Fire Wisp

  Magic cost: 10

  Beginner level basic defensive fire wisp. Call on the elemental power of fire which will launch from your hand and burn the target. This self defense magic causes basic burns.

  With a powerful swing of the staff the spell was launched like an arrow released from a bow. The blue fire wisp streaked through the air like a comet. However, before it hit its target, an insultingly thin stream of water intercepted the spell and dispersed the fire in an instant.

  Freja didn’t hesitate. While the druid focused on her attack, she cast Mystic Wind Hands. Two ethereal constructs, bolstered by her staff’s enhancements, emerged and swiftly dragged Embla out of harm’s way. The druid merely watched and laughed at Freja’s effort; she knew he labeled her as too weak to pose any real threat.

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  “Is that all you have, little savage witch.” The man said as his aura blossomed out it’s malice hit like a suffocating poison. “I will show you the pain that your fucking kind did to my family! Every one of you cursed wendigo savages deserve nothing more than to be sent to the Infernal screaming!”

  The druid uttered words of power, his voice resonating with arcane command. Freja was yanked into the air by a gust of wind that coiled around her like a serpent. She barely had time to gasp before she was hurtling toward the druid, her limbs flailing against the sudden force. He spun his staff in a practiced arc, its motion fluid and deadly. The moment she came into range, he struck her square in the chest with a bone-jarring swing.

  The impact was catastrophic. Freja’s momentum reversed violently, the blow sending her careening backward. Pain radiated through her body as she skidded across the ground, finally coming to a halt with a groan.

  She rolled onto her side, gasping for air, each shallow breath rattling in her lungs. Her stomach churned, and she vomited onto the dirt, trembling as the aftershock of the blow wracked her frame. Through blurred vision, she saw the druid standing motionless, his staff planted firmly in the ground. He watched her with cold indifference, the orbs of water circling him glowing with a faint light.

  Freja grit her teeth, forcing herself to her knees. The weight of her injuries and the oppressive magic in the air pressed down on her like a vice. Her joints screamed in protest, but she summoned mana from the depths of her reserves, willing it through her aching body. She staggered to her feet, the pain threatening to drag her back down.

  Only twelve feet separated her from the druid now. She raised her staff, summoning her Wind Hands. Each spectral appendage carried a hefty stone, gathered from the debris around her. Pointing her staff at the man, she launched them simultaneously, one aimed at the druid and the other at his familiar.

  The attack was swift, but the druid was faster. Without moving a muscle, the water orbs around him shot out blades of razor-sharp liquid. The stones shattered mid-flight, the fragments scattering harmlessly to the ground, and the magic that propelled them dissipated into the air.

  Freja cursed under her breath but didn’t hesitate. She dashed forward, gripping her knife tightly, her intent clear. Then she felt something in her bond that gave her pause. It was a faint, urgent tug that made her freeze in place. She glanced toward the river and saw her familiar.

  Bjorn had made it to the shore, battered but alive, crouched low only six feet from the druid. His presence had gone completely unnoticed by their enemy. His mouth was open, and Freja could see the shimmer of magic gathered as visible distortions of heat that warped the air around him.

  She knew that spell. She remembered it vividly. Reacting instinctively, Freja dropped to the ground and curled into a tight ball, making herself as small as possible. A heartbeat later, Bjorn unleashed his power. Green fire erupted from him in a ferocious torrent, lighting up the battlefield with an unnatural glow. The flames quickly intensified, shifting to a violent purple hue as crackling magical energy surged through the inferno.

  The wave of fire roared toward the druid, an unstoppable force, until it wasn’t. A powerful blast of air split the torrent in two, scattering the flames and sending a shockwave that may as well have been an explosion. The redirected force slammed into Bjorn, hurling him across the river like a ragdoll. His trajectory ended abruptly as he crashed into a tree with a thud, leaving him motionless.

  The druid merely clicked his tongue at the audacity of the small lizard. His familiar, now positioned protectively before him, radiated an aura of wind magic. The beast’s power had deflected Bjorn’s attack and delivered the devastating counter strike.

  “Bjorn!” Freja screamed.

  “Kill it this time,” he commanded his familiar, his voice sharp and final. Then, his cold eyes met Freja’s. “And as for you, don’t worry. You’ll both be dead soon.”

  The familiar’s wings flared as it advanced, a menacing silhouette against the fading glow of Bjorn’s flames. Freja clenched her fists, her mind racing. She wasn’t going to let it end like this. She needed another spell but she didn’t have the mana to cast another Fire Wisp. She couldn’t reach Bjorn before the bird and surely the druid would not let her anyway.

  She felt panicked as she gripped her weapons. She didn’t care if she died but she wouldn’t let them have Bjorn. With a roar she sprang to her feet, her charge more desperation and fury than anything planned. She held the knife high ready to bring it down in a likely futile attempt to stab the man.

  The bird opened its wings to fly, but before it could, a red mist surrounded them. Which gave everyone pause as it came so suddenly as if it were a magic effect, but it lacked any mana. The mist was thick and didn’t react to the wind.

  A clawed hand emerged from the mist, talons glinting like bloodied steel. In an instant, it seized the bird’s head. The familiar barely had a chance to screech before the hand tightened, crushing its skull with a crack. Blood, feathers, and shards of bone sprayed outward as the lifeless body fell unceremoniously to the ground.

  Freja froze mid-stride, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Whatever had slain the familiar so effortlessly was beyond her understanding. Her instincts screamed at her to retreat, but she caught sight of the druid's horrified expression. It was her chance to act. Ignoring the unease crawling up her spine, she edged toward Bjorn, her focus on saving her injured companion.

  The druid screamed at the sudden death of his familiar. “What the fu—”

  The same clawed hand lunged from the mist, forming a tight fist. It drove into the druid’s ribs with such force that his body lifted from the ground. Before he could even gasp in pain, a second hand grabbed him mid-air and slammed him back down. The first fist came crashing down like a hammer, striking his skull and sending him into the earth with a thunderous impact. Soil and debris exploded outward as the druid crumpled into the crater, his limbs limp, his consciousness wavering.

  Desperate, the druid summoned tendrils of water from the river. They wrapped around his battered form and hurled him out of the mist, placing precious distance between him and the unseen assailant. The tendrils lashed at the mist in a futile attempt to strike their target, only to be severed by an unseen force. The druid landed on his feet but dropped to his knees, clutching his side and coughing up blood. His breaths were shallow and ragged as he struggled to rise.

  “Are you okay, Sif?” Joha asked, his voice a deep growl.

  Freja flinched when he asked again, the shock somewhat wearing off as she had to do a mental check on herself. She was in pain sure, but thanks to her mana saturation it was mainly bruises with nothing broken. The druid mainly toyed with her as he could have killed her at any moment.

  “I will be fine, but Bjorn and Embla are injured,” she responded.

  “Okay, stay there and get down,” Joha said.

  The druid stammered, “W-who the fuck ar—”

  “Shut your filthy mouth,” Joha said with a deep growl. “In my country you would be considered shit not deserving of speech.”

  The red mist again started to form, growing thicker each time Joha exhaled until his body was completely obscured. The druid raised his staff and stood, having recovered enough to speak his words of power. The orbs of water formed, this time seven of them with many more in the process of formation. Streams of water shot out, each one vanishing into the mist and continuing on to cut up the landscape behind it.

  Joha burst from the mist, his form already altered to a terrifying visage of primal power. He was thin, almost lithe, a far cry from his usual large strongman like bulk. His fur took on a midnight-black which shimmered with an unnatural sheen, jagged fangs were bared in a feral snarl. Six horns twisted from his head in crown-like spires, crackling with demonic energy that made Freja's skin crawl despite her inability to sense its source. He moved like liquid shadow, weaving effortlessly between the streams of water that the druid conjured in rapid succession. Each orb that missed carved deep trenches into the landscape, but none even grazed Joha.

  The druid was in total panic, his staff raised defensively as Joha closed the distance. The tiger-demon lashed out with a thunderous punch, striking the druid square in the jaw with such force that the man staggered.

  Joha didn’t relent. He leapt into the air, twisting like a predator mid-hunt, and drove his heel into one of the floating orbs, shattering it into a cascade of harmless droplets. A flurry of kicks and punches followed, destroying the remaining water orbs which left the druid exposed.

  From Joha's mouth, the red mist spilled forth like smoke from a furnace, obscuring him momentarily. When he emerged, his form had shifted once again into a monkey-like demon with elongated limbs and four muscular arms.

  His movements became erratic and unpredictable, each of his limbs a blur as he dodged the druid’s spinning staff. The druid's frantic attempts to keep Joha at bay only led to his undoing; Joha caught the weapon with two hands and shattered it with the other two, splintering the staff into useless fragments of steel and wood.

  With an almost playful ease, Joha vaulted over the druid, avoiding a renewed barrage of water orbs. His prehensile tail coiled around the druid's neck like a noose. The druid's eyes bulged as he clawed at the tail, but Joha paid no heed. He focused instead on dismantling the orbs, his fists and feet moving so quickly they seemed to blur. The orbs exploded into harmless sprays of water under the onslaught. Once the last orb was destroyed, Joha landed gracefully, his tail snapping like a whip to hurl the druid several feet away.

  The druid hit the ground hard but he forced himself to rise, clutching at his chest as he spat blood. Desperation etched into his face, he raised his hand, summoning jagged spikes of ice from the ground. The icy stalagmites shot toward Joha, their razor-sharp edges promising a swift end.

  Joha darted forward, his movements impossibly swift as he dodged and deflected the spikes with fluid grace. One particularly large spike exploded harmlessly against his chest, the mist around him absorbing the brunt of the impact.

  “Forest Father deliver me,” the druid whispered, his voice trembling.

  The druid reached for a combat knife, his last resort. The blade was enchanted, gleaming with a faint blue aura, but it offered little comfort against the nightmare before him.

  Joha roared, the red mist intensifying around him. His form shifted again, his body now even larger, his muscles rippling with raw power. His tiger-like features returned, but his claws elongated into scythes. The druid slashed desperately, his knife cutting into the mist, but Joha's clawed hand shot out and caught his wrist in an iron grip. The druid cried out as Joha squeezed, bones snapping audibly. A vicious backhand from Joha's free hand sent the druid sprawling, the knife clattering uselessly to the ground.

  The druid wasn’t finished. With his remaining strength, he called upon a desperate spell, summoning bursts of scalding steam from the ground around Joha. The explosions hissed and roared, creating a chaotic haze. Joha emerged unscathed, his fur steaming but untouched. His lips curled into a feral grin as he closed the distance in a blur, his claws raking across the ground and throwing up dirt and debris.

  The druid tried to conjure another ice spike, but Joha was already upon him. A swift punch shattered the forming spell and the fist carried through into the druid’s face sending teeth and blood flying. The demon grabbed the druid by his hair, lifting him effortlessly.

  The enchanted blade the druid had dropped gleamed faintly on the ground, its edge promising swift and brutal efficiency. Joha stooped to retrieve it, without hesitation, he used the mage’s own weapon to slash his throat. The blade cleaved through flesh and bone with unnatural ease, releasing a crimson spray that painted the air. The druid’s body convulsed violently, his magic desperately clinging to life, knitting together tissues that should have left him dead.

  Freja watched, her heart pounding in her chest. Her father, Lord Ulfar’s words, echoed in her mind from long ago when she was just a little girl. It was a grim reminder of the unique resilience of mages. “To truly kill one, you must sever the head. Anything less, and their mana may drag them back from death.” She realized now that the words were as much a warning as they were a reminder for her. For the Salstars the fight is not over until the opponent is dead.

  Joha didn’t hesitate. His claws dug deep into the druid’s neck, his muscles tensing with raw power. A savage yank tore the head free with a sound of tearing meat, sinew and bone giving way under his strength.

  Joha stepped back as flames ignited on the druid’s corpse, burning it to ensure no regeneration. The red mist dissipated, leaving Joha standing in his original form. The large orange and black striped tiger demon, though his eyes still glowed with residual fury.

  He’d killed the druid elemental mage so easily using his abilities and martial prowess. It looked so effortless that he might as well have been playing with the guy. She remembered what Caleb told her about how he thought Joha might have hunted monsters in the past. Well shit, he was definitely right.

  He turned toward Freja, “Are you hurt?”

  Freja, still reeling from the display of brutality, managed a shaky nod. She tried to speak but all that came out were tears. She survived again but it was too much. She dropped the knife and staff and collapsed back. Joha was at her side a moment later.

  “It’s okay, breathe.” Joha interrupted. “Sif, you are okay, it is safe now.”

  Panic rose up in her again. “I'm fine... but Bjorn and Embla. We have to check on them.”