Jasper landed lightly on the roof of the cabin nearest to the covered pavilion, and crouched behind the crumbling chimney. The man and woman he'd been watching had moved forward in the line, finally reaching the boiling pots of stew. But, while he could see better here than from above, he still couldn't hear what they were discussing.

He wanted to get closer, needed to get closer, but he didn't see a way. He didn't trust the taut tarp stretched over the row of fires and crowded benches to hold his weight, nor was he confident that he could reach it without being exposed by the light pouring out on all sides.

It's times like these that I wish I'd invested a little more in vision, he grumbled to himself. Maybe if I get a little closer, I can read her lips? Frankly, he doubted it would work, but, leaving the safety of the chimney, he scooted toward the edge of the roof.

A crack was the only warning he got before the roof caved in. He landed in a shower of dust and wreckage, and nearly blacked out as one of the rotten timbers hit his head with a glancing blow.

"Kruvas̆!"

Shouts of alarm echoed from every side and Jasper rolled to his knees, nearly retching as the slight movement was enough to create a blinding shiver of pain that erupted from the base of his skull and continued down his spine. He lurched to his feet, his eyes watering as the cloud of dust began to dissipate, allowing him to see what he already knew: he was not alone.

The bandits stared back at him in shock, their bowls of steaming stew slipping through their fingers forgotten as they made eye contact. "I don't suppose we can all agree to forget I was here," he chuckled nervously.

His words seemed to snap them out of their trance, and the men surged toward him. With a single thought, the spectral wings unfurled, spreading through the room. It only bought him a moment of hesitation from the bandits, a moment until they realized that the translucent wings passed through their bodies without harming them, but with a single, ponderous beat, he rocketed upwards.

But not fast enough. He was halfway through the roof when a sharp sting wrapped around his ankle, and his flight abruptly halted. Then, he was dragged backwards. Damn it.

This time, the wings slowed his fall, and Jasper managed to remain on his feet as he hit the cottage floor again. "Hold him down!"

Two men dove over him as Jasper flung himself to the side, crashing through a rickety table. Unfortunately, in the small cottage, running away from one enemy only placed him closer to another. The table hadn't even finished collapsing as another bandit leapt onto him, reaching for his hands.

Jasper got the spell off first.

Soul Sear. Any hope of escaping the camp quietly died as all twelve of the blue orbs collided with the bandit's chest at nearly point-blank range. Then the orbs exploded.

Jasper was flung through the wooden floor like it was made of wax paper and into the cellar below. The force alone was enough to shatter a dozen bones, but he'd gotten lucky, as the wave of fire that consumed him did little more than warm him up.

The bandit was not so fortunate. As he struggled to rise, a fine shower of blood and charred flesh rained down on him. "Ci-Cir-" His essence responded sluggishly, but as he saw the bandits peer over the hole in the floor, the adrenaline spike was enough to finish the spell. "-cle of Forgiveness."

With a wild cry, one of the stoneflesh leapt over the edge, a sword raised high above his head. His not-yet-healed lungs screamed as he spun to the side, but with the wound in his head healed, the essence came faster this time. Flame Charge.

The white flames spread rapidly up his arms as he grabbed the man around the waist and, ignoring the strike that sank into his shoulder, flung him to the ground. They rolled across the ground in a struggle for dominance that Jasper was fated to lose - at least, that is, until the flames began to spread across the stoneflesh's skin.

The man released him as quickly as a toddler touching a stove, but the damage was already done. The bandit's screams filled the cellar as he flopped on the ground in a vain attempt to extinguish the magical flames, but Jasper had no time to pity him. As he stumbled to his feet, several more of the bandits dropped into the basement, their muscles writhing beneath their flesh as the transformation set in.

Holy hell. Panic set in as he realized he was about to be trapped in a basement with a half-dozen mini-hulks, and he shot toward the ceiling. This time, he was anticipating the whip that coiled around his ankle, and as his momentum began to falter, Jasper released the spell he'd been holding. Seraph's Burst.

He burst through the rotten floor and crumbling roof in a maelstrom of metal fury, with an unwelcome visitor along for the ride. All eyes in camp turned to him as he rose into the night sky, body aflame with the white fire of Flame Charge, and twisting like a Roman Candle while the bandit somehow clung on for dear life.

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"Get off." He hammered his heel against the whip still wrapped around his leg, but it only served to dig the barbs in more deeply. Damn it. Gritting his teeth, he struck again, rubbing his leg against the barbed whip and spreading the white flames onto it. Blood and fire mingled freely, and as the white flames crept down the whip's shaft, the bandit was forced to make a choice.

The pressure around his leg ceased a moment before Seraph's Burst guttered out, and the metallic wings were once again supplanted by their spectral brethren. Disoriented, he plummeted toward the ground in a spiral, narrowly pulling up just before he would have smashed into the pavilion, but his trajectory had taken him too close to the mage.

Their eyes met as Jasper shot past the mage, and time seemed to slow. Jasper flinched as the man whipped a dagger out of his sheath, but the blade came nowhere near him. Instead, with a wild grin, the man slashed it through his wrist. "Dāmī dām āyyabī."

Jasper flashed past the man too quickly to be hit by the spray of blood spurting from his wrist, but he watched in horror as the blood split into dozens of thin tendrils that chased after him. He sped up, the usually lethargic wings beating with a rarely seen urgency, but it was too late.

His vision went blank as the tendrils of blood latched onto him. He dropped from the sky as his muscles locked up and even the spectral wings ceased beating. He was powerless as the scarlet tendrils burrowed into him, unable to see or move, and unable to care - for the only thing that filled his mind was agony.

"I'll hold him down."

Jasper was only dimly aware of the raspy, female voice that called out enthusiastically, but the pain inexplicably ebbed as another body thumped into him. "Got him-"

His vision returned as she started to scream in pain, and his muscles unlocked.

"What are you doing, you idiot!" Jasper seized his chance as the mage yelled at the woman flailing on top of him. It took every fibre of strength he could muster to roll her off of him, every shred of willpower he had to stir his wings, but as the scarlet tendrils dug deeper into her flesh, he bolted into the air, rising shakily.

"Take him down!"

He nearly fell as an arrow thudded into his shoulder blade. Nearly kissed the ground as another hit his knee. Nearly gave up when a single scarlet tendril stretched fifty feet into the air to nip at his calves, but pure instinct drove him forward, and the hubbub of the camp faded away as he entered the low storm clouds.

Circle of Forgiveness. Jasper cast the spell on autopilot, but it failed to give him its usual relief as the skin stretched tight over the arrows still embedded in his flesh. He flew on, blinded by the wind and rain, only half-conscious as he searched for any sign of his camp. The only source of light he saw was the bandits' base, quickly fading behind him - the only source of light save for a small pinprick in the distance.

He didn't remember the rest of the flight, but when his consciousness returned, he found himself lying on a puddle on a hard rock.

"Hold him still," a familiar voice spoke in his ear. "I've got to dig this arrow out of his shoulder, and it won't be pretty. The kruvas̆-cursed thing is barbed."

"Ihra?" he croaked out.

He was rewarded with a thump on his back. "What were you thinking? Did you pick a fight with the whole bloody camp?" his friend yelled at him with a shaky voice.

"I didn't do-"

"Here." He was cut off as someone else thrust a rag into his mouth. "Bite down on this while we cut the arrow out." The voice he now recognized as Tsia's commanded him, and he complied. The pain that followed couldn't even begin to compare with the agony the tendrils had inflicted on him, but he was grateful for the rag as the two dug out the arrow in his shoulder and in his knee.

"You can heal yourself now," she finally gave him the go-ahead. Spitting the rag out of his mouth, Jasper cast Circle of Forgiveness twice before gingerly rolling onto his side.

"Was it really necessary to-" His question trailed off as he saw Ihra's red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"To what?" she asked harshly.

"Nothing. I'm fine, you know," he spoke quickly, uncomfortable with her distress. "Except it's a damn shame this whole adventuring gig is over. Guess I'll have to go be a guard somewhere."

"What?" Jasper grinned as, for a moment, her distress was replaced by confusion.

"Just a dumb joke from my world, but seriously," he said, sitting up. "I'm okay."

Her long blonde hair danced as she shook her head defiantly. "No, you weren't. I don't even know how you made it back to us."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad-"

"You were totally unresponsive." Jasper squirmed as Nissilât backed Ihra up. "You know, when you insisted it was too dangerous for me to do, I assumed you'd have a better plan."

"I had a good plan," he insisted. "It just…didn't survive contact with the enemy. Or, in this case, a roof."

"You flew into a roof?"

"No, I landed on a roof. How was I supposed to know the roof would betray me?"

"A roof can't betray-" "Anyway,"

Nissilât spoke over Tsia, quelling her with a look. "Please tell me you at least found something useful in exchange for nearly dying."

He tried to hide his grimace, but did not quite succeed. "Well, things went to hell a little faster than I expected, but I did learn some things. The base is far larger than any we've seen before - too large, I think, for us to take on our own, and there's a heavy guard around it. I think I may have seen the Ammatu-"

"What's that?"

He startled as Ihra leaned forward and placed her hand on his chest, her head swooping close to his. "What are you-" His sentence went uncompleted as she drew back, clutching a soggy piece of paper with a blue wax seal on it. "Where did that letter come from?"

"You don't know?" she asked.

"No, I've never seen it before." Unless…his escape from camp was hazy at best, but he clearly remembered the woman who'd tackled him, remembered her hands wrapping around his chest. "I might have an idea who gave me this letter," he said slowly.

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