(A few minutes earlier)

With a shout of alarm, Jasper threw himself off the walls as the scarlet vortex vanished and reappeared on the far side of the castle, leaving her behind. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Ihra darted after him, racing toward the steps that led down from the walls and into the village below.

She'd barely reached the top of the stairs, though, when a panicked voice roared out from behind her.

"Selene's Grace, what is that?!"

Her foot paused on the threshold, and as she craned her head back to look, Ihra saw the rows of black-armored stoneflesh drinking an all-too-familiar green potion. She didn't need to watch to know what came next - violent convulsions as their muscles and bones exploded in size, and a pair of slitted, yellow eyes glowing with malevolent hatred. Kruvas̆.

She hesitated for only a moment, as her head whipped back and forth between the bloody tornado in the distance and the convulsing stoneflesh. Much as she wanted to chase after Jasper, she knew without the benefit of his wings it would take her at least ten minutes to reach the southern gate; by that time, the battle might be already over, but this one was just beginning.

Spinning around, she raced back toward the wall, slipping into place beside Commander Uzzîl, whose eyes were transfixed on the transformation happening below.

"What madness is this?" he growled. "Are the stoneflesh so desperate they'd turn their own men into monsters?"

"It isn't permanent."

That got his attention. "Then you've seen this before?" he demanded.

"Yeah. We've fought them a few times. The potion makes them tougher, stronger, way harder to kill-"

The sentence went unfinished as the transformed stoneflesh stood up and began to charge toward the wall.

Uzzîl swung away from her, raising his voice as he gave a command. "Archers - prepare fire."

The men on the wall nocked arrows as the reckless charge approached, and the commander shook his head. "What are they doing? They'll just get bogged down in the moat," he muttered.

"Fire!" The command came a little too late, the stoneflesh running faster than mere men. A hail of arrows greeted them as they reached the moat, turning the front rows into walking pincushions, but in their frenzied state, the bandits didn't even falter. They reached the edge of the moat, still running at full speed, and jumped.

Thanks to the constant rains that plagued the region, the moat had swollen well above its usual borders to become a muddy band of water nearly 80 feet across, but the stoneflesh's leap cleared it, albeit only barely. The wall trembled as the first wave slammed into it, stoneflesh clinging to the wet rocks like leeches. Then with great, bounding leaps, they began climbing up it.

"FIRE!" Uzzîl screamed his voice raw as the men on the wall began to panic, and the archers fired again. By now, the climbing stoneflesh looked like some ghastly parody of a porcupine, but only a few fell as the second wave of arrows hit them, a volley they returned with a warcry of their own.

"Ana Īnûs̆ar!"

And then, with a final leap, the first of the bandits reached the top.

Sacrificing a small portion of her health to the Still Pond, Ihra leapt forward and shoved Uzzil out of the way a second before the stoneflesh's axe would have cleaved his head from his neck. The beast lashed out with a vicious kick as she rolled to her feet, and she felt a rib crack as she was sent flying backward, but it had given the commander time to act.

With an angry roar, he stabbed his spear deep through the man's throat and jaw and, hoisting the brute off the ground, flung him over the side. It was an unexpected showing of strength, but as the bandit plummeted toward the moat, the spear was ripped out of Uzzil's hands, leaving him weaponless as another of the bandits crawled over the edge.

The brute staggered as Ihra buried a pair of arrows in its thighs, giving the commander time to draw his sword, but before either could strike again, a bolt of lightning struck its chest. The lightning alone was not enough to kill it, but as its muscles froze, it only took a push from Uzzîl to send it back over the edge.

But in the time it took to deal with those two, another three had pulled themselves onto the tower and launched themselves toward the archers gathered behind Uzzîl.

Quick as a flash, Ihra fired an arrow into their trajectory, activating Moonlit Shards as it hit to split the arrow into a score of caltrops, but the brutes rampaged through the obstacles without even slowing down.

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Carnage followed, as the stoneflesh tore through the archers like a scythe through overripened wheat. A dozen were dead before her next arrow could fly, each hit of their magically empowered arms breaking through shields and armor like it was nothing.

Uzzîl arrived a second later, slashing his sword through the hamstrings of the one nearest to him, and plunging his sword through the brute's neck as it fell to its knees. The blow should have been enough to kill a man, but with an angry roar, the transformed stoneflesh swept his fist backward and knocked the commander off his feet.

With unnatural grace, the brute spun around to grab him, but Ihra struck first, burying two arrows in its yellow eyes in quick succession. It bought the commander enough time to roll to his feet, but she couldn't keep track of his battle any longer as the second stoneflesh turned its attention from the now-dead soldiers to her.

Blood and gristle clung to its face as it rose from the pile of dead, and as it bared its teeth, she could see flesh still trapped between them. Was it…eating them?

Anger quickened her instincts as the beast charged toward her and, dropping her bow, Ihra drew Aphora's misericorde. She danced beneath its furious haymaker, its fat fingers snagging her hair, as she dodged between its legs with her dagger held up. Yet, the beast was so lost in its frenzy it didn't even register that.

She barely dodged the second blow, landing a glancing strike of her own on its torso as she darted past and ran toward the wall. Come on, follow me.

More animal than man at this point, the cannibalistic brute charged after her, not stopping its momentum even as it reached the edge of the tower. With a single elegant leap, she bounded to the top of the parapet and vaulted backwards as the brute charged over the edge.

Her landing was considerably less graceful, as she slipped in the bloody pool forming around the archers, banging her hand against the stone hard enough to send the dagger skittering across the ground. A shadow flickered above her, and she rolled to the side, jabbing an arrow from her quiver into the brute's leg as it tried to stomp on her. She dove backwards, desperately trying to gain enough distance to use her bow, but the brute clung to her like glue and, unlike the last one, was still possessed of enough brains to not fall for such a simple trick. And then Uzzil intervened, his sword slicing through its neck with enough strength to send the head flying.

"You alright?"

She nodded breathlessly, diving for her fallen dagger, as she swept a hurried glance around the tower. There was no one left alive on it save for them, nothing but a pile of dead bodies and a growing pool of scarlet.

"Then get up - the rest of the wall is crumbling," he yanked her to her feet, dragging her toward the stairs that led down to the lower wall, but he only had taken three steps when a haze of red appeared before them. "What the-"

Uzzîl's sentence turned into a snarl as the blood mage stepped out of the haze. "I'm not going to surrender," he roared preemptively. "I'll never surrender-"

"Are you sure about that?" The blood mage smirked as he stepped to the side, allowing them to see the person standing behind him.

Damqa.

The commander's daughter was not walking on her own power. A dozen strands of blood connected the mage and the girl, burrowing into her skin and floating her above the ground. Worse still, one of the tendrils had wrapped around her head, burying its end in her mouth.

"You bastard!" The commander leapt toward the mage, his muscles bulging in size as he activated some unknown skill. The mage did nothing as the commander swung the sword toward his unhelmeted head, but as the sword got within a foot of the mage, a glowing red barrier suddenly manifested and, with a hideous screech, the sword shattered.

"You…" Uzzil̂ stared at his sword in shock, his body quite literally deflating as the skill deactivated.

"There's still time to surrender, you know," the mage continued calmly, seemingly unfazed by the man's attack. "No permanent damage has been done to your daughter yet."

"So what," the man spat. "You're going to kill us all anyway. Might as well go down fighting."

"Am I?" Ēpis̆dāma cocked an eyebrow. "I rather think Lord Inasru won't care if a sacrifice or two goes missing."

Ihra suddenly had a bad feeling she knew where this was headed. "You can't listen to him, Uzzîl."

"SHUT UP!" Ihra fell to her knees as a tendril of blood shot out from the blood mage's arm and wrapped around her throat, cutting off the airflow. "The adults are talking now," the man growled, before turning his attention back to the commander.

"You said it yourself, Commander Uzzîl. I will kill everyone in this fort - and I think it's obvious you don't have the power to stop me. But if you open the gates, I'm willing to spare a few lives. You, your daughter - name up to 5, and I'll let them go free. Why should everyone die just because most will?" he said smugly.

Ihra struggled vainly against the tendril choking her as the commander pondered the offer. "And why…should I believe you?"

The mage chuckled. "Do you have a better offer?" He gestured at the pile of dead bodies surrounding them, at the still struggling soldiers on the wall. "Is there some hidden savior you're waiting on? You know, my people have a saying: better to be a living rat than a dead lion."

"I'm not so sure that's true-" Uzzil started to say, and the mage's face darkened.

"Oh?" Raising a hand, the tendrils began to wrap tighter around the girl's body, drawing muffled screams as the bloody vines sank into her flesh. "You can end this. Just say the word."

"I'll do it - I'll do it." Uzzîl beat frantically against the red barrier as his daughter suffered, and the mage smiled in victory.

"Good. Open the gates, and I'll let her go."

With an angry snarl, Uzzîl bolted down the tower stairs for the gates, leaving the three of them behind. As soon as the commander had left, the mage turned his attention to her, staring at her like some great prize as he approached.

"You know," he practically purred, "I've always wanted to study one of your people. They say elves are closer to the gods than most, and with that lifespan, your blood must be something special. Oh yes," he reached down and grabbed her by the chin. "I shall very much enjoy studying you."

"Get the hell off her."

Air rushed back into her lungs as a long, icy blade sliced through the tendril wrapped around her throat. She fell to the ground, but before her knees scraped the rocks, a pair of arms wrapped around her and, with a single beat of shadowy wings, soared into the sky.

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