Koro was in rare form. Not the grim, brooding statue Aaren had seen last time, but the bouncing, sharp-toothed menace that seemed to exist in a state of constant mischief.
"Oi, oi, oi—don't swing that thing so close to my face, rookie!" Koro barked, vaulting over a wild slash from Levitine's edge. Sand burst from his sleeves like coiled snakes, whipping into a wall to stop the stray blade-light from cleaving Lenara in half.
"I wasn't aiming for her!" Aaren snapped, though the sweat running down his temple said otherwise. The sword in his hands was glowing too bright, its light flickering unevenly like a torch in the wind. The flames from Withered Flame licked up his forearm in erratic bursts, each flare followed by a low, dangerous hum that rattled his bones.
"You're aiming for everything right now," Lenara said, ducking under another stray fire lash. She had a grin on her face like she was enjoying this far too much. "At this point, the safest place is probably in front of the enemy."
Koro cackled. "Exactly! If he's gonna explode, might as well aim him where it hurts."
Before Aaren could argue, the air shifted—cold, heavy, almost metallic. Levitine's voice cut into his mind, taut and low.
> "They're here."
The ground ahead cracked. Out of the fracture, figures emerged as though climbing from a nightmare. The first was tall and thin, his skin patterned like obsidian glass. His eyes shimmered with silver runes that refused to stay still.
Beside him waddled something… else. A round-bodied, short-legged creature whose armor clanked with every step. Its helmet was too big for its head, and a crooked spear rested on its shoulder.
It stopped, sniffed the air, and spoke.
"You… Sealbearer," the creature rasped, voice echoing oddly inside its helm. "Bearer of the Flame of Dragor… wielder of the Crownsteel Blade… and yet, unbound by the Pact of Three. This is… an anomaly."
Aaren blinked. "What?"
Levitine's edge shivered in his grip.
> "That name… Crownsteel…"
Lenara raised her hand like a student in class. "Wait, Crownsteel… is that like… a really fancy hat?"
The tall one's eyes narrowed. The small one—lilax—snorted like a clogged kettle. "The ignorant always jest before they are ground into the marrow-dust."
Koro leaned over to Lenara. "I like this one. He talks like an old book that's been set on fire."
The obsidian-skinned figure stepped forward. "We are the Gateborn Hunters. You tread where you should not. Hand over the Sealbearer."
"Yeah, that's not happening," Aaren said, planting his feet even as his grip trembled. The power inside him was thrashing, pushing against his control. Sparks of fire and light hissed off Levitine's blade.
Lilax jabbed his spear into the dirt. The ground pulsed, sending a ripple through the air like a dropped stone in water. "Then bleed."
The battle erupted instantly.
Koro's sand surged into spirals, catching the obsidian warrior's opening strike. Aaren lunged, but his slash sent a shockwave that tore a chunk out of the wall behind them. Lenara darted around lilax, hurling her daggers with a grin, only for the little warrior to swat them aside effortlessly.
"You flail like an untrained wyrmling," Squigbump taunted, lunging at Aaren.
Aaren blocked, but the collision rattled his bones. Flames burst from Withered Flame without his call, scattering embers that scorched the floor.
Koro cackled over the chaos. "Careful, rookie! You're one bad swing away from making me take this seriously!"
And for once, that didn't sound like a joke.