Xanthy opened her eyes to a blurred environment. Her neck hurt. Where was she? What happened?

Slowly, her surroundings came to focus as her eyes adjusted to the bright light shining through some kind of a thick film. She blinked a few times until the familiar shape of a triangular, cloth tent registered in her mind. The tent flap that would lead to the outside world billowed here and there as the wind blew against it.

Xanthy craned her neck at the ceiling and noticed a pole keeping the entire tent up. She was also tied up against it, the splinters digging into her back and arms. There was nothing in the tent with her except a few stray leaves that fell from their branches before being ushered inside by the wind.

Xanthy gritted her teeth as she squirmed. The cord used to tie her up cut through her skin. Already, her arms sported red and raw marks. She tried standing up but with her legs folded underneath her, it was damn near impossible.

Where was her bow and quiver? Where was Cyrdel and Ravalee? The last thing she remembered was trudging through Joperos Lin and then...darkness. Xanthy squinted at the light pouring from outside. It's still morning. Good. She wasn't gone for long.

She bit her lip as she looked around. Where was the thief?

The cords sent stinging pain up her arms when she as much as squirmed the wrong way. Xanthy ground her teeth and shut her eyes, feeling inside herself for her magic. It would be easy to burn through these cords with a simple maxia spell.

Then again, using magic would alert her captors that she's trying to escape. She's got no options, then.

"Don't look so sullen," a voice rang from the tent's flap. Xanthy narrowed her eyes and recoiled as light flooded the tent when a silhouette raised the flap.

A woman with hair a strange shade between blue and gray strode inside, wearing what Xanthy guessed to be light armor consisting of a breastplate, arm guards, knee pads, and shoulder pads lined with what looked like to be graspel fur.

Knee-high, leather boots crept into Xanthy's vision as the woman stopped near where Xanthy was tied up. Metal clinked together as the woman crouched next to Xanthy.

"Seems like Mother has no shame to account for," the woman's lamp-like, yellow eyes sifted through Xanthy's entire being. The dark slits of a pupil drove dread up Xanthy's spine. Her smile showed off yellowing, crooked teeth, reminding Xanthy of a cleret. The woman tilted her head to one side in wonder. "Sending you to sabotage our camp. Why? Did she know they've already lost?"

Xanthy narrowed her eyes. Mother? Then this was no other than...

"Kymalin Iaro, at your service," the woman grinned wider, her teeth seemingly elongating into fangs in Xanthy's vision. Her stomach turned. Kymalin. Why was she here? Shouldn't the banshee be attacking the Temple now?

Kymalin clicked her tongue. "You and your pathetic brownie friends didn't even take that much effort."

Xanthy knitted her eyebrows. "How did you know? My friends have vanished. It's impossible to track them, even their trails."

Kymalin snorted, bracing her thighs as she laughed like she actually found it funny. She drew back up and wiped at her eye with the back of her hand. "Darling," she said with a hint of amusement still in her voice. "Before you go charging through a Necromancer's territory, you should know. Banshees see through the soul—whole of it," Kymalin shook her head and waved a hand in Xanthy's direction. "Not from just a flimsy part like trails."

The banshee spat the last word like it's poison. "Your soul's what got me intrigued," Kymalin stood up and began examining her nails. "I should be marching down with my men to the siege but I stayed when I glimpsed that mess of a soul. Tell me, what do you know?"

Xanthy averted her eyes under Kymalin's withering gaze "Nothing."

Kymalin's lips curled into a sly smile. "Liar," she crouched again and brought her face so close to Xanthy's that the scent of the forest oozing from Kymalin filled Xanthy's nose.

The banshee's breath tickled Xanthy's ear. It was almost as cold as the fog around them. "You know what I do to liars, Xanthiene?" Kymalin grinned as her eyes flashed with a malicious spark. Xanthy flinched.

Kymalin gave a breathy laugh and inclined her head. "I tear them, one limb at a time."

A knife slid into the banshee's hands. "One limb," Kymalin plunged it into Xanthy's thigh. "At a time."

Xanthy gasped. No, no, no. Her eyes dragged to the hilt stemming from her leg. Blood—her blood, pooled, staining her trousers and the forest floor. Her vision blurred. Tears pricked her eyes. No. She wouldn't cry.

Kymalin's grin mocked Xanthy. The banshee loved this. She looked like she was having the time of her life with her wide grin and shrill laugh. With a sickening lurch, Kymalin yanked the knife. Pain shot into Xanthy's temples as her vision doubled, blurred. Tunneled. No...

Blood splattered on the floor, Kymalin's boots, and even the banshee's pale cheeks. Xanthy's chest heaved as her throat constricted. Speak. She needed to say something.

"Why do you care? It doesn't concern you," Xanthy ground her teeth against the pain pounding in her head along with her pulse.

Kymalin clicked her tongue. "Why withhold it?" the banshee leaned closer once again. "You won't be able to hide it much longer. I always get what I want."

Xanthy hissed through her pained vision. "Not this time."

The knife went to her other thigh as Kymalin lunged and pinned Xanthy against the pole by her neck. Xanthy screamed.

"Yes, scream," Kymalin twisted the knife on Xanthy's flesh. Tears streamed down Xanthy's cheeks for real. "Scream because no one will be able to help you. Go on."

Xanthy bit her lip as her chest heaved and heaved but took no air into her system. The tent blinked in and out. No. She wouldn't give Kymalin the pleasure of seeing her suffer.

Kymalin clicked her tongue again. The sound of it was so loud in Xanthy's ears that she wanted to hurl. "Wrong answer, Xanthiene," the banshee warned.

Without warning, Kymalin yanked the knife down the length of Xanthy's thigh. Xanthy didn't get to stop the whimper that escaped from her lips. Blood. There's too much blood. Xanthy would die here.

Her vision was close to blinking out when she heard a distinct sound of fingers snapping. Like fog being blown away by the wind, the pain and the wounds vanished. Xanthy raked her eyes down to her thighs to find her trousers ruined. The skin beneath them was fine. How...?

Kymalin's chuckle made Xanthy turn. The banshee held up the knife with one hand. "Like it?" she hummed as she switched hands. "It's a weapon designed to hurt the form in ways that can be reversible. Every wound is a spell inflicted straight to the soul so it can be recalled as desired," Kymalin let her head fall to one side, an amused grin painted in her lips. "A perfect torture device, isn't it?"

"You're insane," Xanthy spat.

"Why, thank you," Kymalin laid a hand to her chest as if she was touched. The sound of footsteps caught Kymalin's attention towards the tent flap. A sigh resounded in the air as Kymalin smoothed the hair that fell out of her braids off her forehead. She stood. "I must be off. The soldiers are waiting."

Xanthy's insides cramped as she eyed the knife slowly being slid into its sheath by Kymalin's thigh. Xanthy had to get that knife to escape. Kymalin started towards the tent's exit. Warmth flooded Xanthy's senses as her magic crackled to the surface. It was now or never.

A spell flew out of Xanthy's lips and sped for Kymalin's turned back. It hit the banshee straight at the head. Kymalin crumpled like a bag of rocks. The knife skittered from both of their reach before settling to a spot a few paces from Xanthy.

Xanthy recalled everything June thought her about telekinesis. Focus on the thing. Reach with her mind. Call the magic. Pull. Xanthy clenched her jaw, keeping her eyes on the knife. "Float."

The knife hovered three inches from the ground. Xanthy pursed her lips in concentration. "Dart," Xanthy gasped as she ducked just as the knife's blade embedded on the pole inches from her forehead. A sigh escaped her lips. Oh, that's close.

Slowly, she recast the spell and guided the knife towards the cords tying her down.

"No!" Kymalin screamed and lunged at Xanthy. Xanthy whirled and screamed another spell. It hit Kymalin square on the stomach. The banshee collapsed in a fit, lightning arcing across her body in all directions. Good.

Xanthy turned her attention back to the cords and the knife. The blade sawed through the bonds. Go, go. Faster. The cords fell around her. Good. She's free.

Xanthy pushed herself up despite the numbness from her legs after being folded underneath her for a long time. She sped for the exit.

"You won't escape, Xanthiene!" Kymalin rasped. "Baratheus, Honombre—aid me!"

Xanthy took another running step and the next thing she knew, she was hurtling to the ground. Something gripped her ankle but there was only empty air when she looked. What in the—

Xanthy twisted and kicked in the air. Her foot hit something solid. A vanished brownie? Possible. No time to think about that though. Xanthy turned towards the exit, smelling freedom. She was a few steps away when something slammed into her back. Her chin hit the ground once more, rattling her brain. Her face was pressed against the moist, Drodham soil.

There was only air behind her. What...

Kymalin's boots edged into Xanthy's parallel view of the ground. The banshee dusted herself off before flicking the tail of her braid back. "Don't try anything funny now. I'm afraid Baratheus and Honombre aren't bound to be lenient, being mercenaries in their past lives," she turned to the nonexistent entities. "Haul her up. Tie her down tighter. I don't care if she suffocates. Do your job and contain her."

The air and the weight on her back did just that. By the next minute, Xanthy was back at her pole, with new cords tied tighter than before. She squirmed. Useless.

Kymalin grinned at Xanthy. There's not a trace of annoyance or anger in the banshee's face. It only contained amusement. Intrigue. "I will get back to you after our victory," Kymalin turned away and walked towards the opening. She raised the flap before glancing back at Xanthy. "Enjoy your remaining time."

Then, Kymalin ducked out of the tent, barking orders at the soldiers. The tent flap flopped down the way it was before, muffling the sunlight from the outside. Xanthy's shoulders slumped. Gods. Let her hope Cyrdel and Ravalee were still alive and sane.