A quiet tension lingers as we watch her emerge from the sea, the weight of her sodden dress dragging behind her.

  She reaches down and tears the expensive fabric apart, ripping it free until all that remains is a short, tattered skirt made for movement.

  “Cinna, find a weakness—anything,” Ulric says under his breath. “Veil, you’re with me. We’ll keep her busy. Take your shots, but don’t push yourself.”

  Ulric’s gaze flicks to me.

  “You—see what you can make of this.”

  His gaze passes over Cattleya for a heartbeat, then moves on.

  The two step forward, ready to move.

  Before they can, Kiereth is already walking ahead of us, golden eyes burning with determination.

  “…fucking hell,” Ulric mutters, thrusting a hand out to halt the rest of us.

  As Nodo finishes tearing away the last of her ruined garments, Kiereth advances, steps slow and deliberate.

  “Nodo, listen to me,” he says. “You know Sarnai is making a mistake—one you won’t be able to undo.”

  His hands open, fingers curling into claws as both arms move low and wide, beckoning, gathering.

  “I don’t want to hurt either of you,” he continues. “But the alternative is far worse.”

  His hands clench.

  The sea answers.

  A wave crashes into Nodo from behind, flooding the beach and hurling her forward through churning water.

  Kiereth doesn’t stop. He thrusts a palm toward her, and the wind surges, howling at our backs.

  Water gathers, drawn upward into a rising pillar that stretches higher and higher until it thins into a towering waterspout, trapping her within it through sheer pressure alone.

  “Don’t fight it,” he declares, jaw clenched as he strains to balance both elements. “Let go. I will be with you—I will never leave your side again.”

  “…What are you doing?” Cinna whispers. “That—that isn’t magic, is it?”

  He doesn’t answer. His focus never wavers.

  Cinna looks at me, and my breath catches.

  That look again—accusation tangled with uncertainty, with fear. I am far too accustomed to it by now.

  Ulric and Veil follow her gaze, but Ulric cuts it short with a sharp grunt.

  “Later. We’re going in. We don’t know if whatever he’s doing will hold—wait for an opening, and don’t hold back.”

  With that, Ulric and Veil move ahead, circling the waterspout. Cinna stays back.

  I remain rooted where I am as fear coils tight in my chest. I thought I was past this. Thought I was finally moving forward.

  But—am I about to lose everything again?

  Before my thoughts can spiral further, a hand closes firmly around mine.

  The contact is grounding.

  “Imo. Focus.”

  Cattleya’s eyes are serious—tense, piercing—but she still offers that small, steady smile I have come to rely on.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Imo,” she adds, releasing my hand as the tip of her greatsword settles against the sand.

  I barely have time to breathe before a deafening, shrill cry splits the air.

  The ground quakes as a massive serpent—vast compared to the one before—slams down onto the beach, thrashing with violent force.

  Cattleya and I brace against each other. Ulric, Veil, and Cinna are thrown to their knees, losing their footing.

  Kiereth, however, remains standing—almost as if anchored to the earth itself.

  “Please, Sarnai…” he pleads, voice trembling. “I will give you my life if I must—but you have to stop. Please.”

  The serpent answers him, surging closer, its massive body slamming into the sand just short of where he stands before coiling again.

  I nod to Cattleya.

  We move as one, arms linked, dragging Kiereth clear as the impact crashes down behind us, the force sending us sprawling into the sand.

  Freed from the waterspout, Nodo is lowered gently to the beach by the serpent connected at her back.

  “Listen to yourself,” Sarnai snarls down at him. “More promises you have no intention of keeping. No power to enforce them.”

  Her gaze sharpens.

  “Enough. From now on, we will depend on no one. You will pay. This city will pay.”

  Her eyes burn as they settle on him once more.

  “And most of all… that man will pay. He and his entire family. I will leave no one standing.”

  Nodo lands lightly on the sand.

  Ulric and Veil move at once.

  They split without a word—Ulric charging straight in, shield raised, axe already swinging in wide, brutal arcs meant to dominate space. Veil peels off to the side, low and fast, daggers flashing as he circles.

  Nodo laughs.

  Not loud—soft, delighted.

  Ulric closes first. His axe comes down in a heavy cleave that would have split a lesser foe in two. Nodo steps aside a fraction too late, the blade biting into her shoulder instead. Blood sprays, vivid and bright against her pale skin.

  Her grin widens.

  Veil darts in immediately, exploiting the opening Ulric creates. One dagger slices across her ribs. Another draws a thin line along her thigh—shallow, precise.

  She doesn’t retreat.

  Nodo turns toward Ulric again. Her counter is powerful but untrained, telegraphed and easy to read. Ulric meets it head-on, shield deflecting the blow rather than absorbing it, then crashes into her with his shoulder. The impact is bone-jarring, driving her back a step.

  Veil is already behind her.

  His blade kisses her spine.

  She shivers—actually shivers.

  Something is wrong.

  Every strike lands. Steel cuts skin. Blood flows freely—but never deep enough. The axe skids just short of bone. The daggers slide aside at the last instant, as if something unseen thickens around her flesh.

  Ulric sees it.

  He snarls and presses harder, axe rising and falling in relentless blows. Nodo weaves through them, taking the hits even as she returns wild, powerful punches that knock the breath from his lungs. She laughs as the blade bites her arm, her side, her hip.

  “Cinna!” Ulric roars as his shield dents under a flurry of manic strikes. “Find a weak spot already!”

  Cinna looks lost.

  “I—I can’t,” Cinna stammers. “She’s too saturated. There’s… no openings. I don’t understand how her body can hold that much Vire.”

  Nodo isn’t glowing—not truly—but the Vire around her is so dense it overwhelms my sight. I force myself to shut it out, relying only on my regular vision.

  Ulric swears and charges again.

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  Nodo meets him head-on.

  She lets the axe cut her arm just to feel it, eyes bright, breath hitching in delight. Instead of countering, she grabs his shoulders—hard. He can’t break free. The muscles in her arms swell and bulge unnaturally beneath her skin.

  Veil slips in low, daggers flashing again, carving fresh lines across her legs.

  Nodo laughs openly now.

  “Yes,” she breathes. “Again. Show me how futile it is. Show them I cannot be stopped.”

  Her grip tightens.

  She swings Ulric like a weapon, smashing him into Veil’s flank and batting the smaller man away. Then she spins and hurls Ulric after him, the Bovaryn slamming into his companion hard enough to crater the sand.

  She straightens, blood-streaked and smiling, eyes burning red.

  Behind her, the serpent stirs.

  Her gaze locks onto Kiereth.

  “And you… Kihiro,” she snarls, voice thick with anger and resentment.

  “…Kihiro.”

  The name leaves her lips again, softer this time. For a fleeting moment, sorrow flickers across her face.

  Then it’s gone.

  “Die.”

  The serpent coils at the command, winding tight, ready to strike.

  “Imo.” Cattleya says it firmly, meeting my gaze. There’s resolve there, but it’s held together by tension, like she’s bracing herself.

  I hesitate. Images from days ago surge up unbidden—her lying unconscious, my hand wrapped around hers, squeezing, waiting for a response that never came.

  Her grip tightens on my sleeve.

  “…Tell me what to do,” she says. “I can do it.”

  My jaw clenches. Too many emotions surge through my chest at once—fear, guilt, resolve—but there’s no time to untangle them.

  I drop to one knee beside her. One hand settles at her lower back, steady. The other touches the flat of her greatsword.

  I focus—harder this time.

  Coating it with shards won’t be enough.

  My Vire floods into the blade.

  I picture its shape, hold it perfectly in my mind, and the crystal answers—forming around the sword like a sheath. Thin. Reinforced. Every edge mirrored with exacting precision.

  “Keep your eyes on it,” I murmur, never looking away from the blade. “Meet it head-on. Crash through it like you did those bandits.”

  I feel her through my hand—the swell of her chest as she inhales, the sharp spark of excitement that ripples through her.

  It’s enough to make me relax, even now.

  I glance aside.

  Cinna is staring straight at me, disbelief written across her face, hands clenched at her chest, eyes reddened and shining.

  Kiereth still hasn’t moved. He’s where we left him, one hand covering his face, as though he’s already surrendered to the outcome.

  The serpent stirs.

  Then it lunges.

  Its massive body surges toward us, jaws yawning wide.

  I rise with Cattleya, my palm firm against her back, all my focus on stabilizing the crystal wrapped around her sword.

  “We can do this, Cat,” I whisper.

  The words are meant for me—but I feel them reach her too.

  For a fleeting moment, it feels like nothing could touch us.

  The serpent closes the distance.

  Cattleya dashes forward. I move with her.

  Crystals form instinctively in my left palm, sharp and ready. No matter what happens next—nothing is taking her. I’ll give myself before I allow that.

  She plants her foot and stops cold.

  I brace behind her.

  The strike comes—brutal, final.

  Steel meets flesh.

  The blade cleaves clean through the serpent, its own momentum betraying it as the crystal edge cuts deeper than anything before it.

  Nodo screams.

  Not fury.

  Pain. Real pain.

  The serpent dissolves mid-motion, phasing out of existence as if it was never there. In its place, a red mist drifts downward, settling into the sand and sinking away.

  For the first time—

  She’s hurt.

  For a heartbeat, everything is still.

  Then Nodo staggers.

  The loss hits her like a physical blow. She drops to one knee, fingers clawing into the sand as she gasps, eyes wide and unfocused. The red glow around her flickers—dims—but does not vanish.

  Cattleya surges forward at once, boots tearing through wet sand, crystal-sheathed blade held low and ready. I’m right behind her, further shaping and reinforcing the mass of crystal around my left hand.

  Nodo looks up.

  And smiles.

  Her body swells. Muscles knot and bulge far beyond what her slight frame should allow, skin stretching tight as power floods her limbs.

  Cattleya closes the distance in a heartbeat.

  Her sword comes in fast and clean—a brutal horizontal cut meant to finish it. Nodo ducks inside the swing.

  Steel tears through flesh. Her forearm is severed cleanly, tumbling into the sand—

  But her remaining fist drives forward.

  My palm stays pressed to Cattleya’s back as I react on instinct, pouring everything I can into reinforcement at the point of impact.

  She strikes. I block.

  The force is overwhelming.

  We’re hurled backward together, bodies lifting from the ground. The crystal mass around my left hand slips free midair, crashing down ahead of us and spiking into a jagged barrier between us and her.

  I hit the sand hard, a plume of grit exploding around me. Cattleya slams into my chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

  “Imo!” she shouts, already turning to help me.

  She’s unharmed.

  Good.

  I force a breath and manage a pained smile. “We did good… you got her arm. And her serpent.”

  I brace myself upright, muscles screaming.

  “…Just a little more.”

  She pulls me to my feet and holds me there for a moment. The look on her face—fear? Concern?—catches me off guard.

  Even now.

  “…Cat. Your sword,” I remind her.

  Her eyes widen. She looks around, spots it, and dashes off to retrieve it.

  Screams ring out again.

  Ulric and Veil have rejoined the fight.

  I turn toward them—and freeze.

  From the ruined stump of Nodo’s severed arm, something moves.

  Red. Coiling.

  The serpent is back—forcing its way out of the ruined stump of her arm, reforming as Nodo laughs through clenched teeth.

  It spills free as she keeps fighting Ulric and Veil, absorbing their blows while returning savage kicks and brutal punches with her remaining arm. She fights like she’s reveling in it—like the pain only sharpens her joy.

  The serpent slithers across the sand, growing as it moves, feeding greedily on her Vire. It surges toward us, swelling larger with every heartbeat.

  I trust my barrier to hold—

  It doesn’t.

  Crystal shatters as the serpent barrels straight through it.

  Cattleya has just reclaimed her sword. I haven’t had time to reinforce it again. Panic spikes, sharp and blinding, and I step in front of her without thinking, dragging Vire around myself in a frantic, half-formed shell.

  The impact never comes.

  Kiereth throws himself into the serpent’s path.

  It crashes into him full force. He drops to one knee, arms locked around its body as it thrashes violently, his blood darkening the sand beneath him.

  “Sarnai…” His voice breaks, words torn free through sobs of pain. “You’re hurt. You’re hurting her—please. Let’s stop this.”

  Before him, Nodo drives Ulric and Veil back.

  More serpents spill from her wound now—too many to count. They coil and merge, fusing together into something larger, heavier, more monstrous. The new serpent strikes in tandem with her blows.

  Ulric’s shield bends inward, warped beyond use. Veil staggers under accumulating wounds, his movements slowing, each dodge coming a fraction too late.

  “Cat.”

  That’s all I say.

  She’s already there, close enough that I can feel her breath. My hand closes over hers on the hilt, Vire pouring into the blade before the thought has time to fully form.

  “Alright—away from the snake lady. Heads down.”

  The command cuts through the chaos—calm, firm, unmistakably practiced.

  I snap my gaze toward the voice.

  Figures stand lined beneath the edge of darkness, half-hidden by shadow. In the brief stillness between shouts and screams, I make out their shapes—organized, steady, weapons raised.

  Ulric and Veil don’t break away. They’re too deep into the fight to hear anything but the next strike.

  “Fire!”

  The night erupts.

  Thunder rolls as gunfire tears through the air. In the flash, I catch a glimpse of her—a tall woman standing at the center of the formation, towering over the others, utterly unmoved by the recoil and smoke.

  The bullets tear into Nodo.

  They draw blood. They stagger her.

  But they don’t go deep enough.

  Still, it’s enough.

  Her attention snaps away from Ulric and Veil, and they finally pull back, breath ragged, bodies battered.

  Another volley. This time the formation is clear—two lines of four, alternating fire and reload with practiced precision.

  The shots slam into the serpent.

  They bounce.

  Reinforced scales turn the bullets aside as if they’re nothing more than thrown stones.

  “Fire!”

  Again.

  Pointless.

  “It won’t work!” I shout, frustration ripping free as I reinforce Cattleya’s blade. “Stop shooting! We’re going in!”

  “Fire!”

  They ignore me.

  The serpent surges forward, engorged, furious, barreling straight toward the gun line.

  “That’s the one,” the woman says, unhurried.

  She raises a different weapon.

  The handgun cracks—clean, sharp.

  The bullet punches through the serpent’s skull.

  It collapses mid-motion, slamming into the sand before evaporating into red mist that bleeds away into the night.

  My gaze snaps back to Nodo.

  Her face contorts in pain. She clutches her stomach and pitches forward, collapsing into the sand with a strangled cry.

  Before I can react, the guns shift.

  Barrels turn.

  On us.

  More figures emerge from the flanks, enclosing the space with quiet efficiency. Muskets trained. No hesitation.

  The woman strides toward us, gait relaxed, pistol tapping against her open palm.

  Cattleya tenses beside me, ready to strike.

  I stop her with a firm hand on her arm.

  I step forward instead, heart hammering as I try to make out the woman’s face beneath the shadows.

  “We’re mercenaries,” I say quickly. “We were hired to protect the festivities.”

  Not the truth—but good enough for now.

  She stops a few paces away and tilts her head slightly, studying me in silence.

  I clench my teeth, unsure of what to do next.

  “…Who are you?”