"Merethyl, Korvain—escort the wounded to the aerie." Liselotte's words cracked like ice splitting under pressure. "Everyone else, hunting formation."

The rescued harpies huddled near the treeline, their wings twitching as feeling returned to long-paralyzed limbs. One tried to flex her flight feathers, managed half an extension before trembling forced the wing closed again. Another swayed and caught herself against the nearest tree trunk.

"Can hunt too. Can fight."

"You can barely stand." Liselotte's crimson gaze swept the assembled warriors. "Mesyori, take your flight west—any tunnel mouth you find, watch but don't enter. Gwynelle, south quadrant, same orders."

Ryelle wiped demon blood from her knuckles. The stuff clung like tar, leaving purple stains that wouldn't fade. The rage that had consumed her underground hadn't faded—if anything, it burned hotter now that she knew the scope of what lay beneath their feet.

"I'm going back down," she said, not asking permission. "The tunnels I found were just the outer ring. There are more chambers down there, probably more—"

The first Shadaksha dropped from the canopy without sound.

Its six eyes blazed like coals as it plummeted toward Gwynelle, claws extended and membranous wings folded tight. The young harpy spun sideways, her brown feathers ruffling in alarm, but not fast enough to avoid the demon's strike entirely. Claws raked across her shoulder, drawing blood that spattered the moss below.

Then the sky erupted with shadows.

They came from every direction at once—dozens of Shadaksha pouring through gaps in the forest canopy like smoke given wings and malice. Their shrieks pierced the air, a sound that belonged to no earthly throat. Where the first attack had been tentative, this was coordination.

War.

Liselotte's response came faster than thought. She launched herself skyward, wings catching thermals that rose from sun-warmed earth, and her talons found the throat of the demon that had wounded Gwynelle. The Shadaksha's shriek cut off in a wet gurgle as she twisted, snapping its neck with the same casual efficiency she might use to kill a rabbit.

But twenty more shadows wheeled behind it.

Ryelle's hands ignited, silver fire wreathing her fingers as she searched for targets within reach. The trees around them erupted with harpies taking flight, Liselotte's warriors rising to meet the onslaught from above. The wounded hunkered beneath the canopy, staying low and hoping they wouldn't be found.

She could help with that.

Her thoughts called to the forest again, and the trees answered. Root clusters erupted through the moss, forming a natural enclosure around the wounded harpies' hiding place. Thorny vines reinforced the sides, brambles and foliage weaving a protective net that would conceal and defend.

Mostly defend.

A Shadaksha banked toward her, its hide-wings spread wide enough to blot out patches of sky. She waited until it committed to the dive, then exhaled.

Dragon's breath painted the air in luminous silver. The demon vanished in the torrent, its ashes drifting to earth on winds that stank of charnel smoke and burnt flesh. But three more shadows replaced it, swooping from opposite directions to split her attention.

Ryelle's power flared—every nerve alight with the instinct to kill. She hurled herself forward, clearing the distance between herself and the nearest attacker in half a heartbeat.

The Shadaksha was too slow to adjust its angle, leaving one leathery wing within reach. She snatched the demon from the air, flipped it into the ground with a bone-shattering crash, and crushed its skull before it could twitch.

The next demon she met with fists and fury—left, right, elbow, her strikes landing with concussive force that shattered bone and pulped flesh. When the Shadaksha tried to flee, she leaped into the air, caught its tail, and used the momentum of her pursuit to hurl it into the canopy. The demon fell in a rain of black leaves and splintered branches.

Around her, the forest reverberated with combat—shrieks and croaks, the snap of closing jaws or the thud of heavy collisions. Liselotte soared overhead, a dervish of feathers and talons that bisected demons in her wake. Her harpies rallied to the sound of her commands, fighting through the swarm to reach one another's aid.

But there were too many shadows in the sky.

Gwynelle bled from a dozen shallow cuts, her wings working frantically to stay aloft while Shadaksha circled like vultures. Mesyori had taken a deeper wound across her back, her once-gleaming feathers matted with blood that left her flight jerky, uneven.

Ryelle turned to target the next demon on her list—and ducked as an eldritch blast sizzled through the air where her head had just been. The attack left a purple smear in its wake, lingering at the edge of vision long enough to cast her surroundings in malignant light.

She whipped around to spot another Shadaksha circling for a better angle. Before she could lash out, its eyes flared in a flash of dark radiance, and another purple beam sliced through the foliage. A nearby tree groaned, its trunk half-disintegrated by whatever unnatural energies the demons commanded.

Ryelle's own blast of silver fire speared through the Shadaksha's center, erasing it from existence in a sizzle of dragonflame.

"Watch for the eyes!" she shouted in Liselotte's general direction. "They're the source of the blasts!"

The Harpy Queen screeched in acknowledgement, her feathers streaked with demon blood and sweat. She had rallied her warriors into a loose formation, her talons flashing in arcs that sent severed limbs falling to earth as she protected those who struggled.

"Tunnel breach!" The shout came from somewhere to Ryelle's left, where a cluster of ferns had begun to wither.

She spun toward the voice just as the first Bhutava clawed its way up from underground darkness. Then another. Then six more, their granite skin glistening with moisture from the deep earth.

They advanced like living siege engines, their earth-shaping abilities turning soil and stone into weapons. The lead Bhutava lunged at a passing harpy, catching her leg in one stony palm. It crushed the ankle with a sickening crunch and tossed the warrior aside like a toy.

Others hurled boulders at flying targets, or slammed their fists into the ground to unleash seismic waves that sent the forest's weaker trees crashing down.

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Ryelle rolled aside as stone projectiles shattered against the ground where she'd been standing. Her fire carved through two Bhutava before they could coordinate a proper attack, but more kept emerging from tunnel mouths in every direction.

The forest echoed with harpies' battle shrieks and the roar of demons roused to anger. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, as Liselotte and her flock fought above the fray. Another eldritch blast split the air, narrowly missing the Harpy Queen.

Ryelle moved like a thing possessed, her hands throwing fire and fists with equal abandon. No subtlety, no holding back. She didn't have time.

One Bhutava drew himself up to his full height, slammed both palms flat against the ground, and uttered something in that harsh, guttural tongue these demons favored.

"You want another round?" Fire danced along Ryelle's arms, setting her sleeves smoldering. "Let's dance."

The Bhutava's response came in the form of a stone spear that erupted from the earth beneath her feet. She twisted aside, letting the rocky projectile score a line across her ribs instead of punching through her heart. Divine constitution kept the wound shallow, but blood still welled from torn flesh.

She closed the distance before the demon could shape another attack, her fist connecting with its granite jaw. The impact sent shockwaves up her arm, but the Bhutava staggered backward, its earth-shaping concentration broken.

That gave her the opening she needed.

Dragon's breath at point-blank range turned granite skin into slag. The demon's death-scream echoed off the trees before cutting off abruptly as superheated stone ceased to hold a coherent shape.

But the victory cost her precious seconds, and seconds mattered when outnumbered.

Two more Bhutava had flanked her position while she dealt with the first. Now they attacked in coordination—one from the left with stone projectiles, the other from the right with earth-shaping that turned the ground beneath her feet into quicksand.

Ryelle felt her feet sink into soil that moved like thick mud. Her left leg went down to the knee before she could leap clear, using explosive fire-bursts to launch herself sideways. She landed hard against a birch trunk, bark scraping her shoulder as she rolled to absorb the impact.

The demons pressed their advantage. Stone spikes erupted where she'd been a heartbeat before, while more quicksand spread to cut off her retreat routes. They were herding her—trying to pin her in place for a killing strike.

Above the immediate battle, Liselotte's voice rose in a harpy war-cry that set the corrupted trees trembling. Ryelle caught a glimpse of her white and blue plumage twisting through the air, talons extended and red eyes blazing with the same battle lust that fueled her own strikes.

But even Liselotte couldn't be everywhere at once, and the aerial battle was spreading across multiple clearings as the demons forced the harpies to split their forces.

Ryelle pressed her palms against the birch's trunk and reached for the nature-gifts woven into her essence. Root networks deep in the earth responded to her call, surging upward through soil the Bhutava had liquefied. Thick wooden spears erupted between the demons, forcing them to dodge instead of attack.

But the effort left her drained. Each use of her nature-powers drew from reserves that weren't infinite, and she'd already spent considerable energy during the underground rescue. The dragon fire came easier—that burned from a different source, something that belonged to her alone rather than borrowed from Ebonheim's gifts.

A Shadaksha dove toward her from the canopy above, eyes flaring with eldritch light.

She twisted aside, letting it strike the earth where she'd been standing, then grabbed one of its wing-membranes before it could take flight again.

The demon's hide felt like wet leather stretched over iron bones. It thrashed in her grip, claws raking across her arm, but she held tight and channeled fire through her fingers. The wing-membrane caught like oil-soaked cloth, flames racing along its surface faster than the Shadaksha could pull away.

Its death-shriek joined the chorus of violence that filled the forest.

But for every demon she killed, two more seemed to take its place. The tunnel network had disgorged more Asura than she'd estimated—or there were connecting passages she'd never found, leading to warrens that stretched deeper and farther than her scouting had revealed.

No. She shook her head. Don't guess, just fight. Deal with the situation you can see.

Several Bhutava charged toward the makeshift thorn fortress she'd crafted to protect the rescued harpies. She moved to intercept, her hands trailing streamers of silver fire. The heat of her passage withered undergrowth, leaving ash and embers in her wake.

The lead Bhutava formed two boulders from nearby rubble, holding one in each fist. The other demons closed ranks, their own earth-shaping abilities melded together into an impenetrable wall of moving stone. They advanced like a landslide, gathering momentum and size with each passing heartbeat.

Ryelle inhaled.

Dragonfire raced down her throat, filled her lungs, and waited to be unleashed.

But she didn't unleash it.

Instead, her own nature-gifts sprang back to life, taking new form as they meshed with the dragon's flame. Raw forest vitality blended with primal heat, drawing strength from both elements.

When she breathed out, it was a gout of emerald fire edged with silver. The flame spread across the demons' earthen wall, devouring stone like tinder. In the wake of her attack, moss and ivy grew with explosive vigor, filling in the gaps the Bhutava's shaping had emptied. Flowers blossomed in the trail of her exhalation, adding their bright blooms to the devastation left behind.

Ryelle had no time to gawk at the new ability, but something told her if Ebonheim could see this, she'd be proud. Happy.

Instead, she turned back to the fight, ready to lay waste to the next demon foolish enough to test her strength.

There were plenty to go around.

More Bhutava poured up from the tunnels, and shadows rippled through the canopies—demons making hit-and-run passes at Liselotte's flock. Everywhere she turned, new threats loomed. A harpy fell from the sky, one wing-arm broken and useless as she spiraled downward, disappearing through a gap in the trees.

She needed to do better. She needed to kill faster, find some new edge to turn the tide.

Power flickered within her, deep in a core she'd only recently discovered. She reached for it, tried to draw that primal energy into herself, to transmute it as she had with nature-gifts. Her vision doubled, split between reality and something she saw within herself, an abyss from which only divine strength could emerge.

Her eyes snapped open.

Dragonfire kindled in her core, scorching away every memory of pain or hesitation. It flowed freely, fueled by divinity and honed by instinct. Power that tasted of storm-winds and sunlight burst forth with every breath, igniting the air with silver tongues that consumed lesser flames to fuel itself.

When she opened her mouth, the scream that emerged belonged to a more primal self.

The sound of a predator in its element.

It echoed across the clearing, through the tunnels below, up into the canopy where demons wheeled on leathery wings.

Every fighting creature—harpy and Asura alike—paused at the sound.

Then Ryelle began to burn.

Silver flames wreathed her entire body, pouring from her skin like liquid starlight. Where the fire touched the ground, flowers bloomed—not the gentle growth of healing magic, but aggressive, predatory plants that turned toward the nearest Bhutava with obvious hunger.

She walked toward the center of the clearing, her footsteps leaving smoldering prints in the earth. When a Bhutava hurled a stone lance at her, she shattered it with a contemptuous backhand. When another tried to trap her with earth-shaping, brambles erupted behind her until the entire area seethed with thorn-lined briars.

All around, the other combatants pulled back, trying to keep clear of the firestorm she'd become.

A Shadaksha dove at her from above, its six eyes blazing with eldritch energy.

Ryelle caught it by the throat without looking up. Dragonfire poured through her grip, and the demon's shriek cut off in a burst of greasy smoke.

The battle's rhythm shifted. Harpies who had been fighting desperate holding actions suddenly found breathing room as their enemies' attention focused on the burning figure at the clearing's heart. Bhutava who had been emerging from tunnel mouths hesitated, unsure whether to charge or retreat.

Ryelle glared at the nearest Asura, her irises glowing silver amid a halo of fire. "Who's next?"

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