The flames engulfed the thatched roof within seconds as burning embers flicked and danced through the air on the breeze threatening nearby housing.

Saraya’s shock paralysed her. Her eyes widened, then drooped as her body collapsed onto itself after unleashing ilumium incantarum. She’d effectively drained a portion of her own life force in creating the blast that erupted from her hands. Her delicate frame had only just narrowly avoided the harrowing jaws and talons of the Rider, rending its body with a magical stream of energy. Saraya saved the lives of Greymon’s apprentice, Greymon himself, and her brother, Vinaris. However, at what cost?

Slumped on the ground, Saraya’s body looked deceased. Onlookers brave enough to peer out from behind window shutters were horrified at the devastation. Had their saviour just given her life for theirs?

An oaken-cloaked figure dashed across the street to Saraya. He knelt down, cast off her viridian hood and placed his thumb and forefinger over an eye, gently opening an eyelid. The white light gently ebbed within, flickering in motion with her heartbeat. He left her side and ran towards the armourer’s den where two bodies lay on their backs. He turned as he ran toward the fallen men.

“Are you scratched or bitten?” The High Priest yelled across the stone-lined street. His voice seemed to echo off the stone surrounding him.

“No. The witch distracted that.. that thing away from me before it could do anything,” the apprentice’s words clamoured through his teeth, but made it across the street.

“Come, boy! Quickly! I need your help. If we falter, more lives will be lost.”

The High Priest motioned for the boy to hurry over. “You need to rush to the Western edge of town. A clump of discarded white flowers will be in among the fresh growing patch. Find them and bring them here.”

“Why the dead ones?” The boy looked confused.

“If we sit here and discuss the matter, lives will be lost. Go now. Do you understand?” The High Priest persisted with the boy, enunciating his instructions clearly.

As the apprentice sped off, the High Priest held a burnished gold amulet in his hand, muttered an incantation and looked back up at the boy as he ran down the street. A haze appeared around the apprentice’s lower torso and his speed increased dramatically.

“Those words..” Vinaris’ own words trailed off as he began to groan. His creased and straining face was a manifestation of his ongoing struggle to maintain consciousness. The creases on his forehead gently smoothed as the muscles in Vinaris’ face relaxed. His head slumped to the side as his condition deteriorated.

Nick

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