“I ain’t gonna stop you,” Orion said, “Not sure I even could, but I also ain’t gonna sit here and pretend this is a good idea.”

  The circle of lava, bereft of the Ogrekins’ power, had long since cooled, turned black, sleek, and sharp, capturing the essence of a frozen sea. Razhik had yet to regain consciousness, and the Grokar sat huddled around him, eyes reflecting the light of the shimmering barrier. Even with the loss of another brother in arms, the four that remained were diligent in their duty.

  “I can’t just sit around here waiting,” Anilith replied, “I’ve gotta know what we’re up against, and if I can take it out before he wakes up, all the better. We both know he’s gonna take this hard. They’re still loyal to him, and they’ll stay with us no matter what’s up ahead.” She fixed Orion with a hard stare. “I won’t let him suffer more than he needs to.”

  “Alright, kid,” Orion muttered. “Just promise me you won’t bite off more than you can chew.”

  “We both know I can’t do that,” she said with a wry smile. “We left ‘safe’ behind when we came here, but a tactical retreat has always been an option on the battlements. No reason to think that won’t be true here, too.”

  Orion shook his head. “Maybe so, kid, but we also don’t know they wouldn’t just follow you right back here.”

  That gave her pause. “Alright, so I’ll save it as a last resort. I’ll be back before you know it, and let’s hope I’m alone. Better be ready just in case.”

  She banged her fists twice and walked off to the next guard post. As she marched off, Orion muttered beneath his breath, “Times like this, I could use a drink.”

  Anilith peered out from the cover of the guard post, glad for the darkness. The battlement outside was cracked and torn, scarred with crisscrossing lava flows clear to the next guard post, and the enemy was anything but stationary. (No mere pens and paper, these were goblins!) Goblins roamed about in small squads, each patrolling its own island. From what she could see, they heavily favored bows and spears. Individually, that wasn’t an issue, but with so many squads out there?

  This might be a pain.

  She cycled through her powers, glancing at the enemy with each in turn. The results, predictably enough, mirrored what she’d seen from the last fight, but she noticed two important differences.

  First, the enemies’ movements made it easy to track them with the Wind. Alone, without having to worry about her friends, that was enough. Second, from what she could see, their spearheads and arrows each glowed with a brilliant light, like stars above the lava fields. That should be…useful. Hope it’s enough to keep Blade Weaving in reserve.

  Between the two, she might just be able to keep tabs on the enemy and see their attacks coming. Whether that would be enough, only time would tell, and it was time to put some of the tricks she’d just discovered to a real test.

  Anilith erupted from the darkness of the doorway, blazing into battle with a heavy two-handed blade as she all but flew through the air, closing on the first ranks of the enemy. Their bodies felt so frail after fighting so many Ogrekin; she didn’t even slow as she ended two, leaving four in the squad standing. She transitioned to Earth even as she landed, the ground cratering beneath her force, her body more than capable of enduring the impact.

  She’d collected many weapons in the Hidden Dungeon, but it seemed she wouldn’t have to use as many as she thought. After scrapping the first great sword, Anilith had been more cautious against the last Ogrekin, trusting her friends to do damage as she dodged and distracted the behemoths. She fully expected to waste more than a few weapons as she discovered the limits of her abilities, and the last thing she wanted was to break the blades that had brought her through so many trials. She wanted to have a handle on Fire before she risked her personal weapons.

  That day, it seemed, might not be too far off, so long as she wasn’t facing such brutes.

  In a beat, the two-handed blade vanished, replaced in her hands by two more appropriately sized weapons, another skill she’d been working on. The short swords favored by the goblins didn’t sit as comfortably in her hands, but she could still easily dispatch enemies of this caliber with them, and, after shifting to Wind, she did so without delay. Four more bodies joined their allies in death.

  Anilith discovered another curiosity while testing her abilities in the last fight. Wind fit her Master’s style seamlessly, in a way she’d never thought to question, where Earth had always felt wrong. As it turned out, it wasn’t that simple. On a whim, she’d experimented with the style Temperance favored, one that utilized heavier weapons. It had clicked into place like two pieces to one of those frustrating puzzles Willett always toyed with as a boy. She hadn’t found a style that worked well for Fire yet, but a field of test subjects awaited her.

  The arrows they all launched made for a new obstacle; however, they were all trained on her position. Bursting to the next group, she easily evaded the projectiles. It would take a bow of special magnificence to match her speed. Holding on to her passionate Fire, she dispatched the next group, and then two more, shifting between styles as she fought.

  Wind Stance, as she began to think of her Master’s style, felt close, built for fighting at incredible speeds, but it lacked something crucial, while Earth Stance brought too much power to the fore. Fire lacked the durability of Earth, something her abilities seemed to transfer through her weapons, and she realized the answer was staring her in the face.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Almost every goblin here, she remembered, seemed to favor piercing weapons. Probably not a coincidence, that. They weren’t gifted solely in Fire, but surely, there was some common ground.

  Hefting a spear of her own, she renewed her training exercise, distancing herself from the grim grip of death that touches all battlefields. The Blade Weaver had trained her in a few spear styles, telling her that to know her enemy’s weapon was to know how best to defeat him, and she tested them as she fought.

  Anilith was, by no means, an expert in these styles, and she worked by feel, feeding off her limited proficiency and taking what felt right to her. The spear, to her great enjoyment, flowed with her movements and often provided as much defense as offense as she raged through the twirling styles. Slowly, she pieced together the foundations of her Fire Stance, leaving a trail of dead where she passed.

  Orion watched as Anilith walked away, frustration welling up from within him. He wanted to go with her, do his part to keep her safe.

  Useless old man, he chided himself, Still fallin’ into the same old traps; caught between impossible choices.

  He couldn’t leave Razhik defenseless. There was no telling what this place might do then, even if it seemed safe enough so far. Safety, he knew, was an illusion that only fools trusted completely, especially in the Tower. The Grokar might be here, but slow to trust as he was, Orion would never leave his friend alone with them in this state. There might be a middle ground, though.

  If I can get them to understand what I’m sayin’, that is.

  Fire, for all its power, was more than force. It moved where it wanted, consumed opposition, and represented freedom altogether foreign from the Wind. Where the Wind wouldn’t be contained, existing beyond any constraints but the bounds of the world, Fire couldn’t be contained; it embraced not a freedom of whimsy, but of passion, of choice. It was not free because it could be, but because it wanted to be.

  The distinction felt small to Anilith, but resonated with her core concepts of Fire in a way that she knew was right. Her spear became a tool with one purpose: to pierce through any opposition and give her the freedom she wanted. She was so enraptured with the fight, with the thrill of novelty and power that coursed through her, more restrained than it had in her butchery of the hidden Ogrekin, that she stopped cycling through her powers, seeing only red.

  After far too much effort, Orion had managed to get his idea through the Grokars’ thick skulls. Honestly, it shouldn’ta been that hard, pick this up and put it down. Seemed awful reluctant to even touch Razh, he thought, shaking his head. Regardless, they were now working together to move Razhik’s considerable bulk into the relative safety of the next guard post.

  Orion had taken a moment to scout it out first, if only to confirm there weren’t any surprises lying in wait. It was dark in the guard post, different from the well-lit ones they’d found atop the other side of the wall, but he found it comforting. It was just the way Razhik liked it, and he could see well enough, when his eyes adjusted, the light filtering through the doorways more than sufficient. He hoped the shadows might do something to speed his friend’s recovery, but he’d settle for being a little less exposed.

  Now, if only he could get the beast in there. He knew moving dead weight wasn’t as simple, and gods did Razhik weigh a lot. Progress was steady, but agonizingly slow.

  One step at a time, Ori, one step at a time.

  With every enemy Anilith felled, she solidified her Stance, and soon, few stood with her on that great, scarred wall. Still, she saw red. After a moment, she realized it was more than just a trick of emotion, more than a byproduct of her passion. She stilled herself, allowing cooler winds to prevail, and looked at the world through fresh eyes.

  Behind her, everywhere the arrows landed, small pools of stone liquefied. Individually, the impact was small, but the sheer number of arrows she’d waded through left the path she’d walked in ruins and nigh untraversable. Behind her, the bodies of the fallen burned to ashes under the spell of their allies. In the grips of her power, she failed to notice that the enemy hadn’t cared if they hit her or not, because retreat was no longer an option.

  They just hadn’t anticipated how voraciously she’d carve through their ranks.

  By the grace of the Wind, her observations took no time at all, and as she returned her attention to the enemy before her, she saw no fear in their eyes. Unless she was mistaken, she found resolve there, touched with grudging respect for a powerful foe. They were too few to pose much threat, far from the level of the Ogrekin, and she would honor them with a quick death.

  Razhik rested comfortably in the shaded alcove while Orion watched Anilith from the doorway. She was using, of all things, a spear. Never seen you with one of those before, kid. Definitely know your way around those a touch better than I do, he thought.

  Adept as she seemed to him, she appeared to adapt before his eyes. Within minutes, movements that had looked like fluid were merely child’s play next to the deadly grace and power she commanded.

  He stood entranced, captivated by the sight of her, as if gazing into the flickering light of a campfire. She raced across the battlefield, leaving bodies by the score, but she seemed hardly aware of the changing terrain until, for a moment, she stopped, the Wind stirring visibly around her. In that moment, her gaze panned across him, but he embraced his connection with the shadows, one that always seemed closer near Razh.

  There’ll be no retreat now, damned fool kid. I thought you were gonna be careful. Best you finish what you’ve started.

  He braced their connection, unsure how he might help his friend.

  You're strong, kid, but power's a dangerous ally. Sooner or later, it'll get ya killed if you ain't careful. Don't go too far alone, you damned fool kid.

  When the last goblin fell, her chosen spear through its heart, she set about looting what she could. The lava fields gave no sign of cooling, even as she finally released her abilities. Exhaustion surged through her being, and she was struck by another realization.

  Her Fire burned so brightly, it would empty her of power in its drive for freedom, even as she felt energized in its embrace. If left unchecked, it would leave her a husk, lacking the power to move an inch, whether she finished her foe or not.

  Fire was unforgiving in all its forms; it seemed her own was no different.

  With no clear path back to her friends, she faced the next guard post, hoping to find a moment of respite before the next trial. She never saw the man watching from the darkness across the battlefields, even as he turned around, shaking his head.

  She couldn't rest yet; She would end this before her friends suffered any more.