Standing where she was, charged with intense magical energy and equipped with a shard of golden light in her fist, Kliff hadn't expected when, suddenly, Elaine's eyes abruptly reverted to their regular hue, and the girl collapsed to her knees, fainting onto the ground. At that moment, Kliff lost himself to time as he lay where he was, consumed by his deep concern for Elaine

Clutching a tight fist on the grass, scraping soil into his palms, he fought against himself to stand, although the tiredness consuming his arms and legs refused to allow him such a plain courtesy. I must have misheard. It can't be! Grunting, Kliff managed to position himself so that he may glare at the motionless warlock looking up at the skies through dead eyes. If he'd just been the one to say it...there could still be hope that...that she wasn't...Kliff cursed loudly in his mind. Dammit! How can Elaine by the Alight?!

Kliff tentatively attempted to move his legs once more, and to his surprise, he felt a response as his right leg kicked out behind him. Despite the stinging sensation in his arms, Kliff persevered, slowly pushing himself inch by inch off the ground. He heaved heavily as clumps of grassy dirt fell from the end of his nose. Straining against the building, painful pressure as he prepared to rise into a crouch, without warning, something heavy landed on top of him, forcefully shoving him back into the earth.

A startled gasp left his lungs as someone placed their hand on the nape of his neck and drove their knee hardly into his spine. Struggling helplessly on the ground, he felt utterly defeated, but to his astonishment, his assailant had left his arms unrestricted. Without hesitation, he thrashed about wildly, frantically scrabbling at the earth in a desperate attempt to break free. His captor wasn't at all impressed and, with a swift motion, jammed the tip of the dagger into the ground mere inches from Kliff's eyes, the reflection of his own shocked expression on its polished, flat surface.

"You little bastard. Thought you could get away with it, did you?" With effort, Kliff leaned his head to the side so that one of his eyes could gaze up at the person keeping him pinned. He was a scrawny, dark-skinned man with furious eyes, bared teeth, and a scar running over his bottom lip. Kliff didn't recognize him, not in the slightest.

Around him, Kliff's ears heard the advancing footsteps of multiple other men. They surrounded him in a circle, each looking down at him with a scowl as equally as vicious as the man keeping him hostage or with evil snickers curving their lips. Dammit! Kliff cursed himself. I must have been so focused on Elaine that I hadn't sensed them coming! I'm a fool!

They were all serpents, as even from where Kliff was restrained to the eye level of a man's boot, he managed to locate the snake-head emblem on several of the men, either imprinted on an exposed sweaty shoulder or leg or poking out from underneath their clothing. Most of them carried a standard dagger or short sword, but Kliff immediately found it interesting that only a fraction of the thirteen men were mages. This could play to his advantage...assuming he could muster the strength to shove the bloody sulmo off of his back.

Then, of course, there was always the option of rereleasing his Ember. These moronic thugs would never see it coming. However, as Kliff closed his eyes and embraced the Ember's heat, a curse echoed in his ears, and he rested the side of his face into the grass. Even if he did have the energy to summon its wrath, there was very little he could do to control it, especially not in his overly fatigued state.

Dammit! If I just had my wand! When last he'd seen the crimson-colored wand, it was resting not far from where he had landed; he suspected one of the serpents had already snatched it for themselves. Separating a mage from his wand was a high priority, even for this idiotic lot. And then, there was Elaine, resting lifelessly on the ground, her head slanted toward him although her hair was blanketing her eyes. Two serpents—a spindly fellow with curly, orange hair and a shorter yet much older ruffian with a ruffled beard spiking out of his squarish face—were standing over her, one of them crouching down to pick Elaine's wand out of her hand. The girl stirred, her brows pinching together in discomfort.

"Leave her!" Kliff didn't recognize the sound of his own voice, and it took him a moment before he came to realize that he'd been the one to shout.

The serpent's grip around his neck tightened. "Trust me, lad. Out of everyone here, you're the last person who should be hollerin' orders."

"Let's slit his throat!" a man out of Kliff's line of sight suggested enthusiastically. "One deep cut across the neck should do the trick. Let the bastard choke on his blood before he meets the Shadowborn."

"Nah! That's too quick! We want this to last, don't we?" another countered. "Let's gouge out his eyes first! Let him scream himself half to death, and only once he starts to settle, we begin tearin' off his fingers, one by one."

Someone on his right cackled. "Oh! I love how your rotten mind thinks!"

The old boots shuffling in front of him belonged to a large man with a gut that poked over his waist. "We could break his legs and arms, shatter every bone in his body until even blinking brings him suffering."

"Reasonable suggestions, all of you," the serpent holding Kliff down snickered. "But me? Why, I have a much simpler idea. What say we light a campfire and then shove his face into it? Let's give this fire mage a scar he won't ever forget! And then, well, I'll leave the rest of his punishment for you blunkers to decide. Who's with me, aye?!"

The rest of the serpents seemed to get a kick out of the notion, some nodding in agreement while others laughed into the sky and bumped the man next to him in excitement. Kliff even caught wind of a pair of men already darting off into the forest, presumably to find the appropriate amount of firewood. To him, they looked much like starved street hounds hungrily looming over the meal they'd captured, malnourished glares shoving him further into the dirt.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Kliff started calmly. "Before you get to dismembering me for your sick pleasure, if I could ask, why do you bear such hostility to me?" Kliff waited for one of them to answer him, but when none did, he hastily continued, "Unless I'm mistaken, weren't you sent here to kidnap me and the rest of my classmates? What's with the sudden urge to kill?"

Kliff winced as the dagger was dragged closer to his eyes. "You don't get to talk over us. Nobles like you always act like they're superior. Well, you better learn quickly, boy, that we in Serpent Fang play by different rules." Kliff's pupils slide to the corner of his eyes so that he may meet the scowl upon the scarred man's face. "Quit acting like you're innocent. It's pissing me off! You know what you did."

Kliff shrugged his shoulders. "No, I really don't!"

"You killed Garam!" a serpent in the crowd growled, and the others supported him with heavy grunts and cursing.

"We found him burned to a crisp by the riverside, right where we last detected your Essence Signature," the scarred serpent explained. "Only one mage in this forest can produce that much damage with fire. They...they warned us about you...but Garam is so powerful, had we known you were capable of..." The serpent sucked in a shuddering breath. "Sunder me, but I say you should get what you rightfully deserve, Dresden."

"I...I didn't kill him," Kliff barked in defense. At least, I don't recall doing that. Did I not temper my Ember properly? Kliff grunted, denying the thought further passage into his brain. "I roughed him up, sure, but not to the point where it jeopardized his life! Besides, are any of you in the right to accuse someone else of killing your pal when you all murder people for a living?"

"Don't judge us!" the scarred serpent bellowed hurtly. "Lads, I've changed my mind. I think I'll start by cutting off his tongue. Just hearing him whine is making my ears bleed."

"No, stop!" Kliff pleaded, watching in terror as the criminal raised his blade. "You still need me, don't you?! Whoever hired you wanted you to hand over all of us students! If you kill me, you'll be..."

"Accidents happen, don't they?" The serpent shrugged with glee. "This is a big forest. I think she'll understand once we explain that one of you slipped through the cracks. A particularly cowardly mage pretending he's some big-shot sorcerer. 

Kliff's gaze hardened. She?

"Anyway, this is where it ends for you," holding the dagger's handle firmly above his head, a cold-blooded sneer slithered from one cheek to the other. "I'll try not to let you drown in your blood, he of House Dresden. I want you to feel every ounce of pain you delivered to our dear Garam."

These bloody fools. They're completely delusional, Kliff thought to himself, frustration complimenting his feeling of vulnerability.

Words wouldn't be able to reach them, not any longer, and that just left him with the sole choice of fighting for his life. He'd been doing it all his life, with fire and a wand, but now, he couldn't rely on either. Elaine needed him, his friends needed him, his mother needed him; he couldn't die. Sunder everything! I cannot die!

He reached for the Ember, but it wasn't there. His free fist desperately clawed at the grass and earth, hoping to grab ahold of his Salamander Wand. He harnessed his Essence—what little of it remained—with the means of casting a spell. Nothing would work, and all of it was meaningless. The rusted dagger thrust down at him, and with horror overtaking him, Kliff was no longer sure if the deranged man meant to severe his tongue or simply to impale him through his cheek. Memories of his mother fresh in his mind, Kliff sealed his eyes and awaited the darkness of the Shadow.

"Stop." As that word left someone else's mouth, Kliff felt the serpent convulse on top of him as if an invisible fist had suddenly crushed him in its palm. Slowly, Kliff opened his eyes again, and peered over to where all the other serpents were gawking; Kliff's heart sank.

Rising off the forest floor, a warlock rose to his full height, long, dark hair swaying with the breeze. Rubbery, pink masses of flesh intertwined with festooning veins stretched out of him, cloaked within a flurry of crimson-colored energy. Malleable flesh took shape, swallowing the white of bone before layers of dark skin sheathed the limb all the way to wiggling fingers, as well as plugging up the sizable cavity below his chest. Where he was once a mage missing an arm and a good portion of his torso, the warlock was made whole, reborn yet again. 

"Whoever kills that mage shall know an agony no human was designed for," he muttered, low-toned and austere, dark pupils glowing bright red in their sockets. "Death would come as a mercy once I'm finished with you."

Ho...How is this possible? Elaine's attack destroyed him! I sensed his Essence Signature disappear. He...He should be dead! Kliff's throat tightened as he watched the man clench a fist with his newly-regenerated hand, shrouded by crackling electric tendrils. The warlock stared at it quietly with detached resignation. Just what the hell...is this thing?

*

* *

Her mothers had taught her that a patient's mental state played a crucial role in the path to true recovery. It was an utmost necessary talent that every proper Medical Mage needed to employ: the capacity to heal their patients' hearts before they healed their wounds. Fearne wasn't confident that she'd mastered such a specific and fragile talent. Even so, she was aware of her priorities.

She blocked out the destruction, all the voices in her head telling her to run, to escape to safety. Right now, someone needed her help; reacting to her base instincts to save herself was little more than a selfish act void of sympathy. Breathing in, Fearne's stare hardened on the sizeable cavity, spewing up blood like a fountain would water, tarnishing his uniform in a large and darkish splotch.

Had she been an ordinary field medic, her first choice would have been to find a method of sealing the wound and limiting blood loss. However, a mage trained in the arts of healing had no need to resort to such measures—even if she was only a novice. Against herself, Fearne's Thistle Wand quivered wildly over Simon's chest, and for a split moment, Fearne considered if what she was doing was wise.

She'd used this very spell on countless occasions, even before she was accepted into Glyph Academy. The only difference was that...a plant or some small wounded animal couldn't constitute a human's living soul. If she failed, if something went wrong, Simon could...A professional. She needed a professional. Someone as unqualified as her shouldn't be permitted to—

Simon doubled over on himself as blood splurted out of his deep cough, and his unconscious expression stirred with a strained scowl when his back splattered in the pool of blood forming around him. In his condition, Fearne couldn't determine how much longer he had before death claimed him. More than anything, I don't want to be helpless! In spite of her inner doubts, she couldn't afford to buckle, not with Simon's life hanging in the balance.

Calming herself, clearing her mind, Fearne lowered her wand at him and softly whispered, "Art of Abjuration: Synatus." 

Simon lay shrouded in green energy, casting a mesmerizing glow around him, specks of magical energy dancing like fireflies fleeing from a fallen tree branch. With each passing moment, Fearne watched as the wound on Simon's chest mended together, gradually shrinking with every heartbeat.

That's good, Fearne thought with relief. I'm not too late.

Despite popular belief, the effectiveness of Abjuration Spells hinged greatly on the individual's physical resilience. Trying to mend a severe injury could overwhelm the body, and the shock could even prove fatal before the healing process could take effect. Medical Mages needed to be equally aware of their patient's condition and the appropriate spell they should cast; the patient's survival depended on both factors.

Luckily, in Simon's case, his body reacted positively to the spell. He was a strong fellow, maintaining a sturdy build below his uniform, which came as a surprise to Fearne as it contradicted the uptight, book-smart disposition he'd commonly adorn.

As he creaked open his eyes with an audible groan, Fearne hoped she looked reassuring, forcing a smile as best she could across her face. She couldn't have him throwing a panic, and a look of concern or dread might illicit such a response. "Simon. Can you hear me?" Fearne asked him softly. "How do you feel?"

Simon grimaced. "Like there's...a surging salamander that's...burrowed its way deep into my ribcage. Hallocks! But...but your Abjuration...it's making the pain fade..."

"That's good," Fearne said, exhaling with relief. "Whatever happens, I need you to stay awake." She placed a hand on the side of his face. "Keep both eyes on me, understand?"

"I can do that much," Simon muttered, and it looked like it was taking him a great deal of effort just to form simple sentences. "Although...I'm not the one...you should be troubling yourself over..."

Fearne frowned down at him. "What do you mean?"

"Rogue sorcerers...they're attacking us, aren't they?" Fearne nodded grimly. "Hallocks! Then, if that's true...I'd say Adeline needs your help most of all."

"Adeline?"

"She can't do this...on her own."

"Err...I'd beg to differ," Fearne said with a hint of doubt. "She seems to be handling things quite nicely by herself."

In an explosion of icy wind, groups of rogue sorcerers were sent flying into the air, screaming as they plummeted to the ground in geysers of dust. Those less fortunate were left suspended in a column of steaming ice, their horrified, screaming expressions permanently marred on their faces. May they be armed with a dagger, a wand, or even a firearm, none lasted long after the mage some called the Glacial Girl peered her pale blue eyes in their direction.

Patches of ice formed underneath every step she took, a winding trail of frozen grass trailing behind her as Adeline, armed with an Advanced Wand, discharging flares of magic light at her side, steadily strode to those whom she had left to subdue. Perhaps it was the disregard of her frown or rather the confidence in her stature, however, to Fearne, it seemed as if Adeline was treating this situation with all the seriousness of an ordinary sparring match.

A triad of men—all possessing wands, though none were pointed at Adeline—quivered with fear and reluctance as the ice mage approached, her reddish hair billowing in the breeze as an icy breath streamed out the corners of her mouth. Once she had gotten even closer to the petrified men, one of the serpents turned his back on her to flee, ushering the other two to do the same, the last man even dropping his wand. They looked like terrified fawns hopping away from a lion descended from its mountain for a hunt.

Adeline's eyes held no such mercy, lifting her wand and whispering, "Ice Magic: Cealum." with the indifference of a student reading a passage from a textbook they couldn't care less about. The fast-flying stream of blue energy streaked out of her wand like a lightning bolt, and in less than ten seconds, merciless, jagged ice trapped the three men in its cold fangs as it erected in a spire, shuddering from heavy vibrations.

"How pitiful," Adeline muttered, breath clouds slipping from her frown. "Get ahold of yourselves. You're adults, aren't you?"

Fearne grinned awkwardly at the sight of a rogue sorcerer pleading for his life, only for Adeline to imprison him with her ice seconds later. "Yeah, I think she's got this covered. If I try interfering, I might just get in her way." Fearne gave a nervous tug to her braid. "Moreover, I might be the one she freezes next."

Simon gritted his teeth in protest. "No...Fearne, you don't understand..." he said breathily. "At the start of the semester...Adeline appointed Mason and me as her assistants...after she was voted to serve as our class president."

Fearne raised a brow at him. "Yeah, I remember that. But how does that pertain to what's happening now?"

"We've spent a lot of time together...and I can confidently say...I'm one of the few mages on campus...who knows her the best." It took him a great deal of effort to finish his words, and to make it easier for him, Fearne allowed him to continue without interrupting. "She thinks...she has to do everything alone...because her father has to...Since the start of the exam, she's been pushing herself...to an absurd level. She's strong...but every sorcerer has a breaking point...and I fear that if she wanes now...it could prove fatal."

Fearne spared a bemused glance at where Adeline was fighting yet again. As an outsider staring in, it certainly looked as if she had everything under control, yet the longer she concentrated, the stronger the waves of her weakness rolled. Icy patches hardened over her clothing and the sides of her face, and though she was attempting to hide it, her sagging shoulders, heavy breathing, and knees that bent into repeated crouches revealed that of a sorcerer who was battling her exhaustion just as fiercely as she was her enemies.

"Even if that is the case...what can I do?" Fearne inquired, still observing Adeline as she fought. "Besides, if I don't tend to your injuries, you could die!"

Simon grunted. "If someone doesn't help Adeline quickly...then she will be killed. Fearne, you have to help her. I...admire her conviction...her unyielding strength...but Adeline is someone who rarely asks for assistance during combat...Aeris...will be welcoming her into the Eternal Gardens at this rate."

Fearne gulped, tugging her ponytail even harder. "I...but if I leave you by yourself...what will—"

Shattering ice cut Fearne off. Thorny vines broke out of the earth and lunged for Adeline with the speed of a hungry snake. Had Adeline not summoned a barrier when she did, a sizable wall of ice rising from the grass and over her head in front of her, then those vines might have very well skewered their prey alive. Gritting her teeth, Adeline leaped away from the wall as fissures started snaking across its surface from the relentless vines attempting to force their way through.

"My, oh my. You're proving yourself to be a troublesome little pest, aren't you?" Valenka cooed, fingers drawn to smiling lips. Fearne spotted the dark-haired woman from where she stood atop an oval-shaped platform composed and suspended from a thick, winding stem of thorny vines spinning out fractured soil. The structure rose to be as tall as a small tree, and the platform itself was large enough to carry perhaps four people if they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with one another. Valenka peered over the ledge, chuckling as she spun her glowing Theif Wand between her fingers. "Don't tell me you're getting tired already, Griffith. Where is all that spunk from earlier?"

Panting heavily, Adeline raised her wand to where Valenka was suspended. "You haven't stolen a piece of me. I can duel as much as I want for as long as I want. And besides, I highly doubt someone your age can say the same."

Even at a distance, Fearne could see Valenka's face turning red with boiling rage, her lips twisting from a tight grimace as the veins on the sides of her head pulsated. "You insufferable little wench!" she shouted, thrusting her wand forward. "I'll teach you to ridicule my beauty!"

Adeline exuded an undeniable aura of power, standing at the pinnacle of her class in terms of raw skill and natural talent. However, as Simon hinted, her superiority did not render her invincible. Icy patches formed on her face, frosting segments of her clothing and even permeating her reddish hair as it fluttered from her momentum.

With balled-up fists, Fearne gazed intently as Adeline swiftly moved backward, leaping on and off the ground as sharp thorny vines erupted from the earth just after her every step. The vines soared into the air, shedding spikes and clumps of soil, and if Adeline paused even for a moment, Fearne feared it would mean the end of her. Valenka had said her goal was to capture them, but the woman's menacing grimace and green eyes poisoned with intense hatred indicated that she was intent on little else but murder. Had Adeline's insults cut such a deep wound in her pride?

Despite it all, Adeline's icy, unwavering gaze remained fixed on the dark-haired woman, who scowled from the safety of her vine-crafted platform. Fearne couldn't discern the thoughts racing through Adeline's mind as she watched her leap into the air, wielding her gleaming Advanced Wand against Valenka. However, that split-second decision led to naught but a thorny vine bursting beneath her and swiftly coiling around her ankle.

Gasping, Adeline was yanked back to the forest floor, plummeting into a cluster of thorny vines, moving and shifting as if they were each writhing in indescribable pain, and Fearne imagined Adeline must have experienced quite a bit of pain herself as they swallowed her, slithering up her torso and arms, tying her kicking legs together, their thorns piercing into her skin like tiny blades.

A satisfied smile appeared on Valenka's face. "Got you."

Steadily, the vine cluster extended upwards, taking Adeline along with it, raising her higher and higher until she was more than fifteen meters above the ground. The thorn stalk's impressive height meant that its shadow could easily stretch over more than half the forest clearing, ever-moving vines festooning around Adeline, growing stiffer as to restrain the girl's legs and arms, leaving only her head and a good portion of her torso protruding free.

The faint glow of her wand flickered from where it was locked within the thick mass of plant life, but Fearne could sense that Adeline's magical energy had diminished drastically. Valenka must have as well as, with a twirl of her Theif Wand, her platform elevated her to where Adeline was being held captive, the girl's head hanging limply as her exhausted, half-cut eyes struggled to remain open. Gashes covered her face like streaks of red.

"Insults only hold value if they're true. You couldn't compete with me or my magic." Valenka's platform had risen her to Adeline's eye level, and with a poisonous sneer, she shot a hand around her prisoner's face, obsidian nails digging into her cheeks. "So this is the daughter of the esteemed Keith Griffith? What shame he must feel. I might even be doing him a favor by making you disappear." Adeline's eyebrows pinched together tightly as a fierce grimace overtook her. "What? I can't quite understand what you're saying. Did I poke a sore spot for you?"

"See?" Simon uttered. "...She needs...help..."

Fearne nodded at him, not bothering to protest any longer. She found her three colossal veladora snaptrappers exactly where they had emerged from—two were locked in a snapping duel, while the third was sprawled in the sunlight, its tongue lolling out of its gaping maw—and as she cleared her throat, she called, "This way!" The towering plants with their eerie, sightless visages swiveled their heads towards Fearne, and she didn't have to ask twice before their elongated necks reached out toward her. "He isn't food, understand?" Fearne said sternly, wagging her finger up at them and motioning to Simon with her wand. "You are to watch over him until I get back. Don't let anything bad happen to him, no matter how loudly your stomach's growl!"

Simon churned in agony. "Fearne..."

"Try not to move," she instructed him, placing a hand on his chest when he tried sitting up again. "The spell is still in effect; it'll work faster the less you move."

"That wasn't..." Simon muttered. "Do you have a plan...?"

"I do," Fearne gulped. "But I really don't like it."

Ignoring the doubt she had about the snaptrappers ripping Simon to shreds as soon as she turned her back on them, Fearne dove into a rapid sprint for Valenka and her captured friend. Those whom Adeline had defeated earlier—the wounded serpents who hadn't been fully encased in an ice column— assembled at the foot of Valenka's plant platform. Their focus, however, remained on their mistress as she jeered at the helpless Adeline, delighting in the insults hurled at her.

She didn't have to concern herself with any of them—from her distance, she counted ten men. No, her first task was stealing Valenka's attention...assuming that was feasible. Beyond her mission and the safety of her supporters, Valenka appeared solely focused on belittling the mage who had dared to disparage her beauty. Kicking up dust as she skidded to a stop, Fearne shouted, "Hey! Down here! Leave my friend alone!" She even went to the extent of waving her wand frantically overhead, but all she managed to achieve was a fleeting two-second glare of annoyance before Valenka returned to Adeline.

"Would you look at that, Griffith?" Valenka sneered, squeezing the sides of Adeline's face even tighter. "It would appear your classmate is trying to save you. She must be feeling left out. Don't worry, though. I'll deal with her once I've taught you some manners."

"Wow, somebody's got a death wish!" one of the rogue sorcerers below her scoffed.

"Don't spend the effort, Valenka," another smirked. "We'll wrangle up the rest."

As the bleeding rogue sorcerers began trudging toward her, Fearne spotted Adeline struggling frantically to free herself from the tangled vines, but despite her despairing efforts, she could not. "...F...Fearne..." she grunted from within Valenka's palm. "...Get...away..."

Clenching her jaw, Fearne stomped the ground with a tight fist pulled to her breast. "I said leave her alone, you bitch! Filthy rogue sorcerer! Fight me! Come on, if you're so superior to us, then prove it and fight me instead!" Fearne hated saying such...crude words, but she didn't know what else she could have done to pry Valenka's fingers off Adeline's face. Even now, her insults seemed not to affect the serpent, that was until a bold idea struck her. Filling her lungs with air, Fearne closed her eyes as she screamed as strongly as she could, "FIGHT ME! YOU OLD LADY!!"

A bolt of fear shot through her chest when Fearne tentatively opened her eyes again. The malevolent grimace that Valenka had lowered previously was now directed squarely at Fearne herself, carrying with it a new wave of intense loathing. "What did you just say to me?" Valenka asked breathily, an angry tremor present in her voice. "I'll have your tongue for that, you brat."

Fearne felt herself turn cold as a nervous smile took root. "Fritz..."