The town of Duskmere always smelled like burnt oil and overripe pears. Stalls lined the cobbled street in crooked lines, peddling salted root chips, rusted charms, and fabrics dyed in colors that never quite matched their names. Gravebloom violet looked more like mildew gray.
We hadn't really talked since Duskmire Hollow.
Since the Hollow Voice.
After its defeat, the scythe had hit the stone the moment the void swallowed what was left of the god.
We all stared at it. Nobody moved.
So I did.
I wrapped it in cloth and rope, but it still burned against my spine. Not hot, just... aware. Black bone. Silvered teeth. A blade that didn't sleep.
We tried. All of us. But the thing wouldn't submit to our grip.
We're stuck carrying something none of us can use. That's why we're trying to sell it.
I tugged the strap across my chest and kept my eyes down.
It was hard to keep eye contact with either of them. Rika stood ahead, arms crossed, already scanning merchant signs. Iroha trailed behind me, plucking idle notes on the strings of her lute as she walked, the polished hilt of her rapier bouncing against her thigh with each step.
It's been awkward ever since.
But somehow, they're still here.
"Here," Rika said, stopping in front of a tent stitched with bone charms and shadow silk. "He trades in cursed relics. Or at least, that's what he claims."
The merchant squinted at us over a pair of goggles that weren't attached to anything.
"What's wrapped up in there?" the merchant asked, narrowing his eyes as he reached for the bundle.
Iroha smiled sweetly. "Something charming."
I knelt and loosened the cloth, just enough for the blade's silver edge to catch the light.
He recoiled instantly. "Put that thing away!"
I did.
The merchant spat over his shoulder and muttered something in a tongue I didn't know. "You're walking around with that? You trying to invite a soul plague into my stall?"
"It's sealed," Rika said. "Mostly."
"Well it's not sealed enough. I'm not dying today." He reached under the counter, rummaged, and pulled out a small clay token. "Try the Vanta Fold. Down in the Smog Hollow. They take broken things." He snapped the token in two. A thin blue mist hissed out from the crack.
"The Vanta what?" Iroha asked, nose wrinkling.
"Fold," he said. "You'll know it when you hear it."
He was already waving us away when we heard shouting down the alley.
"They're saying it's spreading again," someone yelled. "Past the hollow trees now. Even the foxes are going rabid."
Rika straightened. "What's spreading?"
The merchant sighed. "The corruption. Out past the Rootline Forest. Same rot that got Duskmire Hollow, just less... poetic. Trees bleeding, spirits twisting, usual plague nonsense. You'd think the gods would just throw a lightning bolt and call it a day."
Rika's head turned. "Did you say Rootline?"
"Yeah," he muttered. "Spreading fast. Nobody wants to deal with it."
Rika looked at me. "We should go. That forest's connected to Duskmire Hollow, if it falls, whatever we stopped down there might come back."
Iroha scoffed. "Of course you'd jump at the first excuse to play hero again."
Rika's eyes narrowed. "And you'd rather chase coin while people suffer?"
"I'd rather we not die dragging around a cursed relic through plague-infested trees." Iroha crossed her arms. "But sure, let's follow your moral compass into another near-death experience."
"Funny. I don't remember you complaining when it got you the spotlight last time."
"Right," Iroha snapped. "Because that's all I care about, isn't it?"
She took a step forward, voice low.
"Remind me… was it the spotlight that bothered you? Or who was standing in it?"
I looked between them. The heat was creeping back into their voices. Different battlefield. Same tension.
I opened my mouth to speak but Rika was already walking.
"We're heading to the forest," she said, not turning back. "We waste any more time, the rot will spread."
Iroha sighed. Not loudly, more like someone who just lost a high-stakes dice roll and had to live with it.
"Fine," she muttered, arms crossed. "If he wants to keep babysitting the haunted stick, be my guest."
She jabbed a finger toward me.
Of course.
The forest didn't look cursed.
Not at first.
Tall trees swayed under soft green light. The breeze carried the scent of wet leaves and earth. For a while, the only sounds were birdsong and the quiet thud of our boots on the trail.
But then the shadows started to stretch longer than they should've.
Then the moss grew slick and black in patches.
Then came the smoke, faint, purple wisps curling through the air like it had forgotten how to rise.
I tightened the wrap on my back. The scythe shifted against my spine, dragging slightly with every step. It was heavier here. Or maybe I was just noticing it more.
"Stay alert," Rika said, eyes scanning the treeline. "The corruption's active. This isn't residual."
Iroha exhaled dramatically. "Great. Because hiking wasn't miserable enough."
We didn't get far before we heard it, low growling from just ahead. A shape emerged between two bent trees, massive and snarling.
A wolf. But not normal.
Its fur was streaked with pulsing violet. Eyes burning. Veins twitching like wires.
It staggered forward on uneven limbs, jaws snapping, body steaming.
"It's infected. We need to strike fast—" Rika said, raising her spellfocus.
The wolf snarled, low and feral. Foam bubbling between its teeth. Its eyes burned violet, limbs shaking as it dug claws into the dirt.
But then it hesitated. Just for a breath.
Its head lowered, ears flattening. Not in aggression. In pain.
Iroha's eyes locked on it.
"I've got it," she said.
Her boot crunched into dead leaves as she raised a hand, not in defense, but in invitation.
"What are you doing?!" I shouted.
"Get back!" Rika snapped. "The corruption could spread!"
"No," Iroha said, stepping forward. Her tone had changed softer, focused. "I can hear it."
The wolf snarled again, but something about the sound cracked at the edges. Less rage. More... despair.
"It's saying something," she murmured. "Like a call for help. Buried under the instinct to destroy."
She reached for her lute, but didn't play it, just held it against her chest like a tether.
"I think... I think I can talk to it."
Rika didn't lower her focus. I didn't either.
But none of us moved.
And Iroha stepped forward again.
The wolf lunged.
A flash of teeth. A blur of violet streaked fur. The sound of claws tearing bark as it closed the gap.
"IROHA-SAN!" I shouted, hand already reaching for the wrap on my back.
But she didn't flinch.
Just held her ground. Feet firm, eyes wide, lute clutched to her chest.
The wolf stopped inches from her, snarling, jaws shaking like it couldn't decide whether to bite or break down.
Iroha's voice was barely a whisper.
"You don't want this. Do you?"
The growling faltered. One blink. Then another.
The wolf's body trembled, its limbs sagging beneath it. Like the fight had drained out of its bones.
The violet glow in its eyes dimmed.
Not gone, not yet. But fading. Slowly. Like soot washing off in the rain.
Iroha knelt in front of it. Not cautiously, reverently.
She leaned in close, her hand resting gently against its matted fur. The wolf didn't snap. Didn't run.
It just stared at her.
And then Iroha started speaking.
"No... I don't think they hate you."
Silence.
"You were just... in the way. That's not the same."
Another pause.
"Yeah. It hurts. I know."
I glanced at Rika. She looked as confused as I felt.
Iroha kept talking. Soft, one-sided. A conversation without context. An apology that didn't belong to any of us.
"You were someone before this. You still are."
The wolf let out a long, low breath. Its muscles relaxed fully, fur settling back into place. The violet smoke around it cracked, then scattered.
A moment later, it lay down, not like a beast beaten, but a soul finally given permission to stop fighting.
Iroha stroked the side of its neck.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here now."
Iroha gave the wolf one last pat, then stood up slowly, brushing dirt off her leather armor with a little dramatic flourish.
"Okay," I said, lowering my stance. "Someone want to explain what just happened?"
Rika stared. "How were you talking to it?"
Iroha shrugged, her usual smirk creeping back in. "Dunno. Maybe I'm just a jack of all trades... or, in this case, languages."
I scuffed a laugh. "Yeah, that actually tracks."
"Mhm," she said, fluffing her hair like she deserved applause.
I glanced at the wolf. It was sitting now. No growling, no glowing eyes. Just watching us. Calm. Still. Present.
"And the wolf?" I asked.
Rika knelt beside it, hand hovering over its back. A faint ripple of magic passed through her fingers.
"No signs of corruption," she said. "The rot's gone. Whatever she did… it worked."
Iroha crossed her arms, still staring at the creature like it might vanish if she blinked too fast.
"She wasn't fully turned," she said quietly. "I could hear her calling out through the corruption. Crying for something. For someone."
The wind rustled through the trees. Even the forest seemed to be listening.
"She lost her family," Iroha said, brushing a hand over the wolf's back. "And I'm not leaving her to rot in this plague-soaked forest alone."
She stood tall, flipping her hair with a faint smirk.
"So as of now? She's my companion. Got a problem with that?"
Rika didn't blink. She simply turned back toward the wolf, eyes narrowing. Her hand hovered above the creature's fur again, another soft pulse of detection magic.
"No lingering corruption," Rika said quietly. "If it's bonded to you, we won't need to watch it."
A beat.
"Just you."
Iroha smiled wider. "Aww. So sweet when you pretend you're in charge."
Rika didn't respond right away. Her gaze lingered, sharp, unreadable like she was calculating whether it was worth it.
"I'm not pretending," she said finally. "It's just obvious that I should be. At least I'm consistent."
"Consistently uptight?"
"Consistently prepared," Rika replied. "Which is more than I can say for you."
"Oh please, my plan's the reason the Hollow Voice got swallowed up in the first place." Iroha crossed her arms. "Pretty sure that screams leader material."
"Ahhh, guys," I muttered, "I'm technically the guild master so—"
"Yes," Rika said, cutting in without even looking at me. "Your plan. A plan you never shared. Because you didn't have one until five seconds before charging in."
"It worked."
"Barely."
"Improvisation is a skill, not a flaw."
"It's a gamble," Rika said flatly. "And a good leader doesn't rely on flashy instincts. They think ahead, they listen, and they don't risk everyone's safety just to prove a point."
"Guys," I tried again, "maybe we could just—"
"I listen just fine," Iroha said, flicking her hair. "Unlike some people who freeze and walk away, the second things get too intense." She shrugged, all smirk. "Me? I stick around, smile, and somehow get exactly what I want."
A beat.
"Call it charm. Or guts. Or just knowing how to hold a conversation. Oh sorry. Those don't count toward being an 'Honour Girl.' Wouldn't expect you to understand."
Rika's glare sharpened, but her voice dropped—quiet, deliberate.
"You smile. You flirt. You deflect. And people fall for it."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Must be nice, never having to be honest. Never having to be vulnerable because you've already decided no one gets close enough to see the real you."
She let the silence stretch, just for a moment.
"You don't lead, Iroha. You dodge. And you're just lucky people mistake it for charm."
"Please. If it weren't for my 'charm', you'd still be off sulking all by yourself, and we'd be handing our wizard vacancy to the wolf. You're welcome, by the way."
"You're exhausting."
"You're welcome for that too."
I finally inserted myself between them (that sounded better in my head).
"Okay, it's nice that we're all getting along for all the wrong reasons in the middle of this death forest, but maybe we can focus our energy on something else?"
"I think he should be the leader," a voice said suddenly, out of nowhere.
We all froze.
It wasn't Iroha's.
It wasn't Rika's.
And it sure wasn't mine.
I turned and nearly jumped.
Some girl I'd never seen before was sitting in the chair beside me, one arm lazily lifting a half-eaten sandwich to her mouth… and the other… wrapped around mine.
Crumbs were already falling across my sleeve.
"What the…?" I jolted.
"Fujikawa?!" Iroha blurted, eyebrows shooting up.
I don't know who she is or where she came from, but she's here, arm wrapped around mine with no intent of letting go.
A petite girl with an uneven bob cut, fringe curling into her eyes. Her blazer was wrinkled, her skirt sat crooked, and her school shirt had suspicious stains that looked like either soy sauce or blood. Possibly both.
And yet... past all that... she was kinda cute.
Not in a weird way. Like, on the surface.
I mean… don't worry about it.
"Uhh… sorry, can I have my arm back?" I muttered.
She didn't respond immediately. Just took another bite of her sandwich and leaned in closer.
"So this is the boy you were hung up on, Senpai?" she said, mouth half-full. "He's cute."
I short-circuited. Iroha turned bright red.
"F-Fujikawa?! What are you doing here?! How long have you been sitting there? And how did you even find us?!" Iroha stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.
The girl took another bite of her sandwich. "This is where I usually come to sleep."
Rika raised a brow. "Minazuki-san… why is your friend holding Samurai's arm?"
Iroha snapped, "She's not my friend."
"I'd also like to know that," I managed, trying to reclaim my sleeve.
"Samurai? That's a cute nickname… can I call him that too?" she asked, leaning in way too close.
She sniffed me.
"Hmm. Smells like in denial. Does this mean you like him too? Well, obviously… you did kiss him yesterday."
"You what?!" Iroha exploded.
"No!" Rika blurted. "I was just… I mean… That's not what I—"
"Ahhh no, you misunderstood," I stammered. "She didn't kiss me like that."
"Nope," the girl said confidently, still chewing. "Saw it clear as day. She had her lips all over yours. But honestly? I don't blame her. I would've done the same if I had to look into those eyes that long."
Iroha's face turned crimson. She didn't say anything, but steam was practically coming out of her ears.
"It's okay, Senpai," the girl added sweetly, eyes on Iroha. "At least you were the one who had sex with him right here in this room, right?"
I fell out of my chair.
"What." Rika's voice cut through the silence as her head snapped toward me, still sprawled on the floor. "I thought you said nothing was going on."
"OKAYYY," I blurted, scrambling upright. "Haha… yeah, no. She's clearly just making stuff up. None of that happened. Obviously."
The silence that followed was deafening.
"Well…" the girl tilted her head, looking genuinely thoughtful, "to be fair, I didn't get a great look at what happened. I'm just filling in the gaps."
I had no idea who this gremlin was, but Rika looked like she was about to rupture a blood vessel. And Iroha looked like she wanted to rupture her.
"So is this a club or something?" she asked, completely unfazed, and immediately wrapped her arm around mine again like this was totally normal.
"Yes," I said automatically. "Also, you're getting food on me."
"Neat," she said, letting go and leaning over the table. "So, what's this?"
Before anyone could stop her, she picked up one of the miniature figures. It immediately bent in her hand.
"Hey! Stop that!" Iroha yelped. "That's my character!"
"Excuse me," Rika said sharply. "We're in the middle of something important."
"Perfect timing," The girl beamed. "I'm the best at being in the middle of something important!"
"Oh no." Iroha snapped. "You are not staying here."
"Aww, why not, Senpai? I can help. Let me join your club?"
I blinked. "Wait… you want to join, uh… Fujikawa?" (Please let that be her name.)
"You can call me Naru." She clapped her hands. "And yay! Thanks so much for letting me join!"
"But I didn't say—"
"Even if you do," Rika cut in, "we're in the middle of a session. You can't just insert yourself without a character sheet."
"It's fine! I'll just play this one," Naru said, lifting the wolf token.
"That's not a playable character!" Iroha barked. "That wolf is my companion!"
"Even better. We're already friends," Naru said brightly. "It's perfect."
"We're not friends," Iroha deadpanned.
"Oh come on, Senpai. You talk to me all the time."
"Yes. When I'm telling you to stop skipping class and go back to homeroom."
"See? Besties."
She clutched the wolf token to her chest.
"You're the club president, right?" she asked, tilting her head, then hit me with the most aggressive puppy-dog eyes I'd ever seen.
"Pleaseeeee… pretty pleaaaase let me stay…?"
Rika and Iroha stared at me, shaking their heads in perfect, terrifying sync.
I looked back at Naru.
Then back at them. They looked like they were ready to murder me on the spot just for thinking about letting this girl join.
I looked back at Naru one more time.
"Well… I guess if you are interested in the club, I mean, I can't say no," I said, sighing.
Naru let out a tiny squeal and immediately wrapped her arms around mine again. "Yay! Thank you, Samu-chan!"
Iroha groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I'm going to die."
Rika crossed her arms. "This is why application forms exist."
Well... at least they're on the same page for once.
That's a win, right?
Naru sneezed.
The ground was cracked where we stood.
Vines that hadn't been there moments ago now slithered through the soil like veins trying to surface. The trees were taller here. Darker. Leaning in, like they were trying to listen.
Even the air had changed, heavier, thicker. Tasting like ash and sap.
I shifted the scythe on my back. The wrap had loosened again.
It always did that when something was close.
"Looks like the corruption's spread," Rika muttered, scanning the canopy.
Her voice was low. Controlled. Almost quiet enough to vanish.
Naru prowled ahead, tail flicking as she sniffed at the dirt. I couldn't tell if she was tracking a scent… or looking for food.
"I think I liked her better when she was corrupted," Iroha muttered.
"At least then she was quiet. Now she's a talking furball with attitude… and somehow she's mine."
Naru huffed.
"And of course," Iroha added, glaring at the wolf, "I'm the only one who can understand her."
"What'd she say?" I asked.
Naru barked again. Short. Sharp.
Iroha blinked. Then blushed.
"…Nothing useful."
"Stay sharp," Rika said. "There's a magical presence nearby. It's getting stronger."
A gust of wind slipped through the trees, sharp and wet, like something exhaling under the moss.
Then came the laughter.
Faint. Melodic. Wrong.
Fey.
But twisted.
Their eyes burned violet. Their fingers were bark and bone. And their smiles… never quite reached their eyes.
Out from the trees stepped shapes. Elegant, hunched, too tall to be human, but too symmetrical to be beasts.
We moved fast, instinct, not command.
Back to back.
My hand gripped the hilt of my katana.
Iroha drew her rapier, the blade gleaming despite the gloom.
Rika's spellbook opened mid-air in front of her, runes glowing along its spine, while her staff bristled with static.
Naru crouched low beside us, fur bristling, growl deep in her throat.
And the scythe on my back?
It was humming again. Faint. Hungry.
"Fey," Rika said tightly. "Tricksters by nature. Old magic. They don't think like we do and they don't fight fair."
"Cool history lesson," Iroha snapped. "When are we getting to the part where we hit them?"
"There is no perfect strategy," Rika admitted. "Just… don't trust anything you see."
I steadied my breath.
"Stick together. No unnecessary moves."
That's when Naru moved.
She launched forward without warning, pouncing straight toward the nearest fey.
The fey shimmered, flickered and fired.
A streak of violet burst from its palm, catching Naru mid-air and slamming her backward into the ground with a pulse of searing force.
"Naru!" Iroha shouted, her voice cracking.
Then her eyes blazed.
"That does it."
"No, wait!" I shouted, but she was already gone.
Iroha lunged ahead, blade gleaming. The fey fired again. A twisting bolt of violet magic but she wove around it effortlessly, her body spinning through the air like a dancer with a death wish. Her rapier plunged into the nearest one.
It vanished. Smoke. No resistance at all.
"Huh?" she breathed. "What was that…?"
More laughter echoed through the canopy, layered and mocking.
Shapes shimmered into view above us. Fey.
Too perfect. Too still.
And far too many.
Their wings twitched like leaves in the wind, their limbs coiled unnaturally around bark and branch, and their eyes glowed like dying stars.
"They're illusions," Rika said, eyes glowing faint blue. "They use projection magic to scatter themselves. What you're seeing isn't real."
Another cackle, this time beside us. Then another behind.
More fey materialised. The forest lit up with violet flashes.
Naru stood, fur bristling, a low growl tearing from her throat.
Another giggle. Closer. Then dozens more.
"We need to find the main one," Rika said, her eyes scanning the canopy. "The one casting the copies."
"Yeah, cool," Iroha snapped, backing toward us. "Except one of those copies just sent our wolf flying."
I stepped forward, gripping my katana tighter.
"Then I suggest we strike before they strike back."
The blade ignited in my hands, a steady glow rising to a crackling flame.
"Sunkissed Blade Solar Flare."
The fire along the edge roared to life. I slashed once across the air. A wave of searing light erupted outward, cutting through the canopy. Three fey vanished in a hiss of smoke.
I landed, sliding into position.
Iroha smirked.
Rika smiled.
I stared up into the treetops, katana burning and ready.
"Shall we?"
Naru stomped her paws and howled: a wild, furious cry that shook the canopy. The fey scattered like a murder of crows.
Without needing a word, we moved. In sync. A spark of shared instinct snapping us into motion.
Iroha surged forward like flowing water.
Her rapier danced between chests, throats, and shoulders in one continuous rhythm, each strike a note in a deadly melody. She ducked low beneath a swiping claw, rolled through the underbrush, and came up with a sharp upward thrust, impaling another fey mid-flicker. It dissolved on contact.
She didn't pause. Twisting on her heel, she spun, the blade flashing in a silver arc as she struck two more in perfect sequence: clean, effortless, practiced. Her eyes stayed locked forward, reading the battlefield like sheet music she'd already memorised.
Another magic bolt shot from the treeline.
She leapt backward, rolled, and came up stabbing through the gut of another fey. It dissolved, and she danced forward, pivoted, and jabbed two more times in a seamless chain.
My katana flared with heat, light bleeding from the blade like a second sun.
I sprinted forward and leapt skyward.
Carved a blazing crescent through a wave of illusions above. Another slash followed. Then another, until my arms moved on instinct.
I twisted at the peak of my leap and let the fire build, coiling at my center.
With a single breath, I unleashed it. The blade spun with me in a perfect circle, and a pulse of flame erupted outward in all directions. A ring of red and gold scorched through the trees, tearing through the fey swarm like a wildfire given shape. The forest groaned under the weight of their vanishing illusions. Smoke. Ash. Gone.
A shriek sounded from the right. Naru.
But not a wolf in danger. Our wolf in motion.
She tore through the underbrush like a cannonball made of muscle and rage, slamming into a cluster of fey at the edge of our circle.
One leapt at her. Naru caught it midair with her jaws, twisted mid-pounce, and slammed it into the ground with a crunch that echoed through the trees. Another shimmered behind her, she pivoted instantly, muscles coiled, and drove her full weight into it, claws raking across its side before flinging it into a trunk hard enough to splinter bark.
She bolted forward again, claws ripping, jaws snapping, howling into every corner of the battlefield as she tore through a whole cluster of fey in a blur of fang and fury, ripping illusion after illusion apart until the ground was littered with vanishing smoke and the forest trembled beneath her wrath.
In the center of it all, Rika was already casting. Blue bolts fired from her fingertips in quick succession, slipping between trees and allies alike, each one precise and devastating. She barely blinked as she adjusted her aim, her gaze sharp and analytical.
All around her, the battlefield had thinned. Naru's rampage had left only scraps behind — illusions torn apart, fey scattered and desperate. Stragglers blinked between branches, trying to regroup, to vanish.
She raised her staff. Blue runes circled around her like a spell-clock ticking toward detonation. The orbs spun in rhythm, tighter and faster with every pulse of her focus.
She lifted her fist. Then flicked her fingers upward.
"Homing Barrage."
The orbs launched in all directions. Streaks of sapphire light zipping between trees, correcting midair with surgical precision.
Each one hunted.
Each one found its mark.
Each one exploded in a shimmer of blue fire, tearing through the fey's mirrored veil.
And for a long second… everything fell still.
All that remained were fragments of what used to be the Rootline Forest. Scorched, shattered, or simply gone. The air pulsed with leftover heat.
Smoke curled where shadows used to sit.
Silence, heavy and waiting, settled in like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Then.
A laugh.
Low. Raspy. Tucked between the trees like it didn't need permission to be heard.
The scythe on my back hummed louder. Sharp. Hungry.
She stepped into view like the forest had been hiding her all along.
Cloaked in twisting vines and robes of rotted moss, her limbs were bent like old branches, skin a lichen-stained green. Her eyes glowed yellow, but not with light—with rot.
A green blight hag.
She cackled, spreading her clawed hands.
"Ooooh... you managed to burn away all my pretty illusions. Used up so much of your magic too. And all just to swat at shadows that would've vanished if you blew hard enough."
"What are you?" Iroha shouted.
The hag's head tilted. Her grin widened, revealing a mess of crooked teeth.
"Ooooh, darling. Isn't it rude to ask someone's name without offering your own?"
Naru growled low beside us. Her ears flattened.
The hag's eyes fell on her.
"Look at that... this one was mine once. Now she's been house-trained. Shame, really."
"You're the one causing the corruption," I said, stepping forward.
The hag raised both arms, laughing louder this time.
"Deary me. I am the corruption, sweetheart. I'm the root, the rot, the breath that chokes this forest."
She bowed with a mocking flourish.
"I am the Blightfoot Hag. But you can call me Grandma Edith."
Her smile dropped.
"And that lovely thing on your back?"
She pointed a claw at the scythe.
"That belongs to me."
Roots exploded from the earth beneath my boots, winding fast up my legs. I barely had time to react.
They coiled around my arms, yanked tight. My katana clattered to the dirt.
I couldn't move.
The vines kept climbing, writhing toward the scythe strapped to my back.
"Quick! The scythe!" I shouted.
Iroha darted toward me. "Hold on—"
But the hag flicked her wrist.
A jolt of sickly green magic surged through the air, slamming into Iroha mid-step. She cried out and hit the ground hard, unconscious.
"Iroha!" Rika shouted, already moving. She dropped beside her without thinking, one hand hovering over Iroha's chest.
Naru snarled and lunged.
The hag didn't flinch. She lifted a finger.
Naru stopped mid-air, suspended like a marionette caught in a frozen leap.
"My my, what big teeth you have," the hag cooed. "Wasn't that what the girl in red said to you once? Or am I thinking of a different beast?"
Naru writhed and snarled, suspended like a statue carved from rage.
The hag's eyes gleamed bright yellow as she leaned in.
"But you... what punishment suits a runaway pet?"
Her grin stretched.
"I know."
She raised her hand.
Naru's form began to shift. Fur peeling back, limbs reshaping. Her paws lengthened. Her snout shortened. She let out a distorted yelp as her body began warping into something else.
Then.
A bolt of magic cracked across the clearing.
The hag reeled back, screeching as the shot clipped her face.
Rika knelt behind us, one arm braced around Iroha's unconscious body, the other gripping her staff as it lit with the glow of her incantation.
"Didn't they teach you not to interrupt a spell midcast?" the hag hissed, clutching her burned cheek.
Rika didn't answer. Her voice was calm. Sharp.
"Wandering Fog."
Mist burst from her staff in an instant: thick, white, and fast. It swirled around us, curling like fingers through the trees, blinding everything in its reach.
The hag's form vanished in the fog. So did the forest.
And then.
The mist shifted.
A pulse. A tug beneath my feet.
The world bent sideways.
The mist thinned.
Cool stone pressed against my palms, and somewhere nearby, I heard the distant rush of water.
The air was still.
And the scythe's hum... didn't come with us.
"So you didn't beat it, huh?"
A hand reached for another chip from the bag between us, eyes still glued to the screen.
"We couldn't," I said. "Whole party got wiped."
"So you ran away?"
"At least for now."
On the laptop screen, the anime's protagonist dropped to his knees, sword cracked, cloak torn, sunset bleeding behind him. The credits rolled over soft piano notes.
A shoulder leaned into mine, warm and steady. A knee nudge gently against my leg. "It's okay," came the quiet voice. "Just try again tomorrow."
I didn't say anything.
The screen faded to black. The hum of the room settled.
I stared a little longer.
I exhaled through my nose, barely a sound.
…I hope they're okay.