The roar of the mob was like a storm of human hatred that surged up the rocky bluffs. Gamba's command echoed over the wind. "Iron nets! Burn the witch's bird alive!"
"Don't you dare," Low hissed. Her face was a mask of furious concentration as she scooped up a fistful of sharp stones. "This is exactly what I warned you about, Leonotis! They're not protectors, they're just… they're just hunters! And now we're fighting their battle for them."
She flung the first stone, a low, whistling projectile that struck a hunter's shoulder with a sickening thud. The man cried out, dropping his torch and stumbling. "Back off, idiots!" Low roared, her voice a raw, powerful thing. "Leave it alone! You'll only make it worse!"
Jacqueline, however, didn't argue. She moved with a quiet, lethal grace, raising her hands to the heavens. The rain, already a deluge, responded instantly to her will. It didn't just fall; it whipped into a horizontal sheet, a solid, silver wall that slammed into the charging mob. Torches sizzled and died in a chorus of hissing steam.
"What in the...?" Joram bellowed, staggering back and shielding his face with his arm. "She's a water aseweaver!"
"It's not a curse, it's a blessing!" Jacqueline yelled back, her voice barely audible over the wind and rain. She kept the watery wall up, the force of it pushing the hunters and villagers down the slope. "Go, Leonotis! Now's your chance!"
Amidst the confusion, one hunter managed to keep his torch lit, its flame a stubborn, defiant eye. He was a thick-shouldered man, and he was still trudging steadily toward the bird, a look of grim determination on his face.
"Get them, Zombiel!" Leonotis shouted, his voice a desperate plea. He knew he couldn't get through the mob, and he couldn't let that one torch get to the creature.
Zombiel, silent as ever, simply raised a hand. His arm was a conduit for the salamander spirit within his chest. He didn't summon a roaring flame, but a quiet, electrical shimmer. The air, thick with moisture and fear, became a live wire. A searing, invisible shock pulsed outward, a silent wave that slammed into the remaining hunters. The thick-shouldered man screamed, dropping his torch as a jolt of pain shot up his arm. The fire sputtered and went out as it hit the muddy ground. The mob, now thoroughly drenched, confused, and shaken, stumbled back down the slope, their courage melting under the combined force of the group's magic.
"We… we can't get through!" Joram yelled to Gamba, his voice strained. "What do we do now?"
Gamba's face was twisted in a snarl of frustration. "It doesn't matter," he spat. "The bird's still there. We'll wait out the storm, then we'll find a new way to get to it."
Leonotis, seeing the immediate threat recede, let out a shaky breath of relief. He looked at his friends, their faces illuminated by the distant bonfires of the village. "It worked," he whispered, a smile of genuine awe spreading across his face. "We actually did it."
"Yeah, but what now?" Low asked, still angry. She gestured to the Impundulu, which had been cowering on the bluff, a frantic blur of feathers and lightning. "They'll be back, and we can't just stay here. We're fugitives, remember?"
Jacqueline nodded grimly. "They'll be even angrier now. We need to go."
But Leonotis didn't move. His gaze was fixed on the bird. The Impundulu, now alone and no longer pursued, had settled down, its panicked movements ceasing. The frantic lightning on its wings softened to a low purr. It raised its head, its eyes sweeping over everything and locked with Leonotis's.
In that moment, everything else faded away. Leonotis felt a surge of empathy, a profound connection that went beyond words. The Impundulu wasn't a monster; it was a magnificent creature, frightened and alone. It saw him and it was as if it recognized a kindred spirit. It saw a protector, not a hunter.
The creature's stare was a powerful sight in Leonotis's mind. It was a plea, a promise, a challenge. With a graceful, purposeful motion, it spread its wings, and the low purr of electricity intensified.
Gamba, seeing the bird's strange new focus, pointed his spear at Leonotis, his eyes wide with a cold, calculating fear. "That kid! The bird is looking at him! It's the witch's familiar! Get him!"
But he was too late. The Impundulu launched itself from the jagged peak. Instead of soaring to safety, it angled its flight. It was coming straight for him.
The wind whipped around Leonotis as the great bird dove toward him. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a mixture of fear and excitement. He didn't hesitate. He thrust out his arms, his palms open to the stormy, muddy earth. A low hum of power vibrated in his chest, and his plant magic, an echo of the Impundulu's raw elemental force, surged.
"Now!" he bellowed, his voice filled with a desperate hope.
From the soaked ground at his feet, the world exploded into vibrant green. Thick roots burst from the soil, twisting and writhing like living snakes. Saplings shot up, their branches reaching for the sky. They wove together, their leaves and bark forming a dense, living tunnel of green, a spiraling vortex of wood and vine that opened up a path into the heart of the storm clouds. It was a beautiful, powerful, and utterly insane act of creation.
The Impundulu, a blur of motion, surged into the tunnel. A magnificent wake of lightning trailed behind it like a comet's tail, illuminating the dark green walls of the tunnel in a breathtaking display of light and power. With a final, silent, grateful glance at Leonotis, it disappeared into the tumultuous sky.