Something a little different from the other stuff I have up. :) Not sure if/when I'll post the rest of this, but enjoy!

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In Ruxalia, solitude was death. But Firu, who was no gambler, walked alone and did not fear. She was unarmed, her burden light, her step steady and untroubled despite the bitter wind.

And when the shadows of the trees bent toward her in the dimming light and quiet enveloped her in an icy cloak, she bared her teeth in a smile.

“Come,” she murmured.

No response materialized, save for the whisper of her own breath escaping her lips in a puff of white. Above her, bare branches leaned down in a half-formed embrace. She stretched her arms out as if to welcome them. Closed her eyes.

She spoke again, louder this time. “I know you’re there.”

They had followed her across the frozen rivers and through the tangled dark forests of the eastern hills. Common bandits, she had thought at first, but bandits would not have been so persistent, and the border watch would not have been so obvious or inefficient. In the end she’d taken pity on them, if only out of curiosity, and slowed her pace.

Only idiots would have kept following her after that.

Idiots with purpose.

Sure enough, this time they took the bait. Footsteps crunched against the snow, stopping a careful distance away.

A woman’s voice rang out. “We know why you’ve come north, Keeper!”

This gave her pause. But even with her back turned, Firu refused to let her surprise show. “Do tell. I hardly know myself.”

She’d not bothered to figure out the reason for the summons. Quicker to find out in person. So she’d dropped everything and come running north at once like some obedient dog, though it had been years since she last stepped foot in Ruxalia, and she hadn’t planned on amending that for another few years yet. In fact, she’d been right in the middle of a job...

“Don’t play the fool!”

Oh well. Voiding contracts was always a pain, but she’d stockpiled enough credit that her reputation could probably take the blow. At least now she was finally convinced it would be worth it. Only something big could have brought these worms out of the woodwork.

“So who’re you with?” she asked breezily. “The League? The Empire? The IMA?”

This time it was a man who spoke, one with an odd five-armed cross inked on his cheek. “Do not associate us with such filth! We are the chosen, the true —”

“Don’t waste your breath on the heretic!” snapped the woman.

They spoke Ruxalian with a regional accent Firu couldn’t place. Which really didn’t make it any easier for her to decide whether they were joking or not, considering the typical northern sense of humor.

The third idiot — another man — spoke at last. “Enough! Just give us the Seal!”

Despite herself, Firu’s heart skipped a beat. All her senses drew into focus.

“The Seal?” she repeated.

The wind rose and fell in response to her voice.

“We know you’ve found it! Now hand it over!”

“Hmm. And if I don’t?”

“You’re alone,” growled the woman, as if that were reason enough.

Firu didn’t bother responding. Not everything added up just yet, but she had heard enough. Besides, with her pulse racing like crazy, who knew what kind of unfortunate crap would come out of her mouth?

There would be plenty of time to be excited later.

She unstrapped the pack from her back. Dropped it. Raised her gloved hands, took a deep breath, and turned. The air around her grew cold and still, but she barely noticed it over the flush of her own skin.

“Good,” said the man with the cross mark, stepping forward. “Now —”

The other man screamed. He crumpled to the ground with a smoking hole in his chest.

“What —” The woman crumpled as well.

Leaving the first man, who stood gaping as Firu skidded to a stop. Bright flame leaped and danced along her outstretched arms. She grinned and took a step toward him.

“Oh great merciful Satos,” the man muttered, eyes wide with fear and bewilderment. “Lend me your strength...”

He raised his own arms, sending a slushy wave of water arcing through the air.

And to think he’d been the best of the bunch.

“Three Watercasters to take down the lone Firecaster, huh?” said Firu, batting away the slush. The flames surrounding her arms hissed, but did not expire. She took another step forward. “Sorry, but whoever sent you should’ve told you that experience counts for a lot more than affinity.” Another step, and the distance between them closed entirely. “So who’s Satos?”

“None of your business, heretic!”

“I’m afraid you’ve made it my business.” She pointed two fingers at his heart.

Strange, really, that they hadn’t ambushed her until now. Incompetent as they were, they must have been confident in their numbers, and Firu had dangled openings at them even a freshie would have taken. She’d wondered if their inaction meant they were waiting for her to lead them to the safehouse, but that assumed they knew about the safehouses. Which wasn’t all that likely either.

The man was beginning to sweat as he eyed her flaming fingers, but remained silent. Firu sighed. “Too bad. I don’t have this Seal of yours. Whatever it is. Must be nice being able to afford tossing away your lives on something that doesn’t even exist...”

“You lie!” There was an extra hint of panic in his voice now. “They told us! She said the Keepers —”

“She? Your poor dead friend over there? Or perhaps this Satos of yours?”

“No —” His denial turned into a strangled yelp as one of the flames licked too close and singed his cloak.

“Whoops,” said Firu, rifling through his clothes with her free hand, but finding nothing of much note. “So where’d you hear about this Seal thing anyway?”

“It is the key to everything!”

“That... doesn’t really answer my question.”

The man glared back at her sullenly.

“Did ‘she’ tell you about it? Or did ‘Satos’?”

“Satos is all-knowing... all powerful...” he mumbled. “I do not fear you! I do not fear death. For we shall be reborn...”

She clearly wasn’t going to get anywhere with this one. She’d picked wrong, probably. Had reacted as if she were on the battlefield against a group of fellow hirelings, rather than a bunch of... who-knows-what. Made sense that the strongest of them would also be the most deeply indoctrinated in whatever crazy beliefs they held. Might have been easier to intimidate one of the other two.

Then again, it might not. Useless to regret her decision now. Firu guided fire to the tips of her fingers and thrust.

The man dropped. The smell of seared flesh clung to the air.

If it weren’t for the summons, she might have spared him, tried tracking him back to whomever he reported to. No time for that now, though. She was worried about the others. Though on second thought, worried perhaps wasn’t the best word for it.

Firu released her hold on her flames with a sigh and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Darkness settled over the clearing. As the last remnants of fire element rushed away to rejoin the swirl of surrounding power, the air began to warm again, though not nearly as much as she would have liked. Not much fire to draw on up north, especially with winter’s approach. Keeping it all under control had taken more out of her than she was used to. And now that night had fallen, she would have to wait until tomorrow before reaching the safehouse and demanding explanations. All within expectations, but nonetheless troublesome. It was cold and it had been a long day. She could use the rest, true, and take the opportunity to sift through everything she’d just found out, but she’d been hoping for a proper bed tonight...

Only then, she realized she wasn’t alone just yet.

A fourth? Firu couldn’t quite get a reading on the elemental signature, which meant the person was either lurking just out of range, or was a Caster of considerable skill.

Damn. And after all the trouble she’d gone through to make sure no other Casters were close enough to notice that little kerfluffle.

Without bothering to pick up her dropped pack, she darted behind a tree and closed her eyes, releasing more of her power so that her own signature would be camouflaged among the surroundings as well.

And just in time. Her ears caught a rustle of cloth, so soft she almost thought she’d imagined it. She caught her breath.

“The Shadow is that which exists without light.”

Firu froze. Slumped back against the trunk of the tree.

“The Aura is that which abolishes all darkness,” she muttered.

A chuckle. “Good to see you, Firiane,” said the voice, with a lilting emphasis on the last syllable.

If she hadn’t already recognized that voice, she certainly would have now. In all the Five Nations and Seven Clans, only one person insisted on calling Firu by her full name.

Only one person was allowed to do so.

“Celise!” Firu growled. “How long have you been watching?”

It wasn’t that she hated the name. Firiane. A lovely name, perfectly serviceable. It just seemed too delicate, too pretty, for a woman like her. Not that she was arrogant enough to go by “Fear” either (as Celise had suggested once), and the last person who called her “Fiery Firi” had ended up in a ditch with his pants burned off.

“Sorry,” said Celise. A soft light at the other end of the clearing flickered into view. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself. I did not wish to interrupt.”

The light grew, washing over a tall, slender blonde dressed head to toe in severe but elegant black, then dimmed again.

Her face was perfectly blank, but Firu had known her long enough to recognize her amusement.

“Very funny.”

Celise pretended she hadn’t heard. “How has your work been?”

“Busy.” Stupid question. Celise was clearly stalling. “What’s all this about the Seal and some weird cult?”

At this, Celise’s lips curved slightly.

Firu crossed her arms, waiting.

“You see,” said Celise at last, as the last of the light faded from around her. “Morzend and Zunac found it.”

“Really,” whispered Firu, unable to stop the wide grin creeping onto her face. “Really. They’ve found the lodestone?”

Celise nodded. “They are not one hundred percent certain it is the same artifact described in the records. However...”

“However?”

“It offered sufficient demonstration of its powers to convince them of its authenticity.”

Firu stared. “You’re kidding me. So what...?”

But this time Celise shook her head.

“I don’t know, Firiane. They did not go into detail, on the chance that their message would be intercepted before it reached me.”

Something in the other woman’s voice gave Firu pause. “They haven’t made it back yet.”

“No, they have not.”

“Haven’t you heard from them?”

“Not from either in three weeks.”

Which was when Firu had gotten the summons. But it would have taken a few weeks more for said summons to have made its way to her, considering how difficult she was to reach, especially when she was on a job.

“This isn’t why you called me up here,” she said, her earlier giddiness replaced by the peculiar sharp clarity of apprehension.

Celise was quiet again, and no longer smiling.

“It’s my mother, Firiane.”

“The professor? What happened?”

But before Celise could answer, the ground shook in a great tremor, knocking them both to their knees.

* * *

Celise sprinted off before Firu managed to regain her feet. But she caught up soon enough, muttering curses under her breath as she counted the signatures that had suddenly blinked into existence.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she shouted at the back of Celise’s flapping greatcoat. “We finally found the damn thing, fine. How the hell did everyone else and their mother find out?”

She received no response. The ground shook again, but this time she caught herself before she stumbled. Poethra’s work, no doubt about it now.

“Dammit, Celise. Five enemy Casters on ol’ Po. And you didn’t sense a single one of them coming?”

“You didn’t either,” Celise pointed out, without ire.

It was too damn cold and she was tired from her earlier exertions. But what she said was, “I’m not as good of reader as you are!”

“I thought you were them.”

This gave Firu pause.

“What about the others?” she asked instead, filing her thoughts away as she continued to run.

“Mum is with the boys. And Emorene sent word yesterday. She’s reached the designated safehouse.”

“No one else?”

“No.”

Firu had expected to be last to arrive this time, given how long it’d taken for her to receive Celise’s summons in the first place, not to mention all the delays she’d run into afterward. “Who else were you expecting?”

“Lendra.”

Ugh. Figured. The only Keeper other than Emorene and Firu herself with any semblance of respect for time. Firu’d been stuck with the other woman for an entire week once before the others showed up. By the end of that particular ordeal, she’d been ready to dive off the nearest cliff.

Probably a good thing Lendra hadn’t gotten here yet this time, though. She was no Caster or psychic, and she didn’t have any other martial training whatsoever. The “boys” could take care of the professor. And Emorene and Po could take care of themselves, even if these new arrivals were better than the fools who’d tried jumping Firu earlier, which was no guarantee.

Still... the earlier Casters may have been no threat, but the fact that they had known of the lodestone, of the Keepers’ existence — that in itself was troubling. Perhaps all the more so due to their incompetency, which made it pretty much impossible to guess at just what kind of person was behind them.

Contradictions within contradictions. Just the kind of puzzle most of Firu’s fellow Keepers would eat right up. But there would be time enough for that later.

First, they had to get this new lot off Poethra’s tail.

As they emerged from the woods onto a snowy expanse of low hills, Celise’s flaxen hair streamed out behind her in a sudden surge of light and power. Firu slipped out from behind her and sent a ball of fire shooting out toward the nearest enemy Caster she could sense, fully expecting it to miss.

Instead, a sudden yowl indicated that she’d hit her target, startling her into laughter. A spike of ice rushed at her in retaliation, and she rolled away against the slope.

“Let me get this straight,” said Firu, scanning their surroundings as she called more fire to her. Two of the enemy had taken cover behind a scattering of rocks, but she could not pinpoint a more exact location for Poethra and the remaining three. “You’re saying you mistook me for this bunch of goons earlier?”

Celise’s only response was to smile and extend her left arm. For a brief moment her arm glowed, enveloped in pale light. The light lengthened from her hand and solidified into the thin, gleaming white blade of a rapier.

But Firu had no time to stand around in admiration. Wind sliced at her, carrying shards of ice. She ducked and sent up a shield. It blazed bright, then disappeared, smothered by a torrent of water that proceeded to solidify once more into ice and come crashing toward her legs. This she dodged easily as well.

They were terrible Casters — not as hopeless as the ones who had been stalking her earlier, but still pretty bad. No control or coordination whatsoever. If they were anywhere else but here, Firu would have burned them each to cinders by now.

Or maybe not. Couldn’t hog all the fun to herself, after all, and she imagined Celise would want one or two alive for questioning (and probably do a better job of it too, crazy cult members or not).

“Behold! The Cursed Daughter!” shouted the Windcaster, gaze fixed upon Celise’s bright form. “The Demon of Light! Cut out her heart and be blessed!”

Well, that probably confirmed they were from the same group as the ones before, though despite his words of bravado, his face had taken on an ashen cast and his hands were clearly trembling. Firu, however, ignored him. She’d had enough of the mouthy ones for today. Celise could have him. Firu charged toward his buddy instead, conserving her fire, weaving carefully through the outcrop to avoid the rush of water he sent streaming at her. He wasn’t moving at all as he cast, the amateur. As she approached, his eyes widened and he dropped his casting to make a run for it. Too late. She landed a punch straight in his gut, but her flames sizzled out even as he tumbled backwards into the snow. He’d managed to shield himself at the last second.

Something slammed into her from behind. She dropped into a roll, skin burning — not from her own element, but from drenched garments frosting over her back at an unnatural rate. She redirected fire to her torso and threw herself to the side just in time to avoid another icy blast of wind. Her hair slipped out of its tie, spilling down her back in a dark tangle as she picked herself up again.

The last three Casters had come out of hiding. About time. But where was Po?

One of the nearby hills glowed white, briefly silhouetting Celise’s slim, tall figure as she ran the first Windcaster through. No mercy in her blade tonight, apparently.

But now all four remaining Casters were closing in on Firu. Three Watercasters and a Windcaster. Firu backed away, already preparing her next move as she waited for Celise.

The three Watercasters glanced at each other. In that brief instant Firu knew exactly what they were about to try. She sent a flaming wall snaking up through the air. Only to realize she had overestimated them yet again.

Instead of the coordinated attack she’d been expecting, the Windcaster charged at her through the flames alone. She twisted around to grab him, then kneed him in the groin, but in doing so lost her footing in the snow.

Her reflexes kicked in. She broke her fall. Flipped onto her back, panting. Waiting for the followup attack.

Instead, she found a familiar wrinkled brown face beaming pleasantly at her overhead. “Why, if it isn’t young Firu. Need some help, sweetie?”

Firu scrambled up and back at once. And not a moment too soon. Poethra planted both hands firmly on the frozen ground. The earth rumbled. The ground split into a web of cracks, spiraling and widening into a vast pit.

Right beneath the enemy Casters’ feet.

Firu wasn’t the only one with an itch to work off tonight, it seemed.

Two of the Watercasters couldn’t react in time; the earth swallowed up their screams and the crunch of their bones as all the cracks snapped back together.

The last two Casters scurried away.

“Hey, Po,” said Firu, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. “I see they like you better. They only sicced three on me.”

Poethra chuckled. “Why, you flatterer.”

Firu snorted and ran off in pursuit of the Windcaster as soon as she’d found her footing. As she did, she heard the Po turning her attention to Celise, who had arrived at last and was neatly dispatching the final Watercaster.

“Hello, Celise. And how is Ceridna faring these days?”

“Hello, Auntie Poethra. Mum’s doing much better now, thank you...”

“Not the time,” Firu shouted back at them despite knowing they wouldn’t listen. And despite feeling rather distracted herself. If not a lie, Celise’s words could not be the entire truth, either. But Celise had no reason to lie to Po. Po and the professor went way back...

She wasn’t distracted enough, fortunately, to miss the blade suddenly swinging down at her. Poor fool had given up on casting altogether. But with a quick smack of his wrist, the blade went flying. Firu pinned the man to the ground, her arms smoking as she considered whether or not it would be worth sparing him.

“Hm, hm. What a pitiful sight,” said Poethra as she strolled to a stop beside them, followed by Celise. “Now, I’d recommend you start talking, son. Young Firu here’s not much of a patient soul, you’ll find.”

Let the old biddy say what she wanted. Firu just wanted answers.

“Who sent you? Why?”

Like the idiot she’d cornered earlier, this man only glared. To his credit, though, this one was unafraid.

“Thought we had the Seal, didn’t you?” she continued. “Just like those friends of yours earlier.”

The man’s glare dropped. He began to laugh, but his laughter soon faded to wheezes. His face turned bluer and bluer. His hands scrabbled at his neck, then stopped, trembling in midair.

Firu, understanding what he intended, threw a punch at his jaw. His head snapped back.

But she was too late. The man toppled to the ground, no longer breathing, stinking of final release.

The sheer amount of will necessary to pull off a stunt like that was near unimaginable. Firu had heard of Windcasters attempting self-asphyxiation as a desperate last resort, but always dismissed them as tall tales and rumors. No one before now had ever offered proof or claimed to witness such an incident firsthand.

Unskilled though the man had been in actual battle, to overcome every last bit of natural instinct, every last compulson for survival and self-preservation — that was something that required conditioning and training on par with Firu’s own.

“How...” Poethra began, evidently coming to the same conclusion.

But Firu had no time to consider the fallen Windcaster further. Behind her, Celise stiffened. Firu spun around, fearing the arrival of more enemies.

Pain exploded through her entire body.

She floated away from herself, feeling neither hot nor cold, neither hollow nor substantive. Dancing through a shimmering kaleidoscope of color, an unrelenting storm of light that stretched on forever and into nothing.

It was so beautiful.

So beautiful, and yet so utterly terrifying.

Celise, she tried to shout, but her voice stuck in her throat.

Hurt. So bad.

Tears streamed down her face, flying and whirling into the vastness. She wanted to die. She could not die.

Celise, Celise.

“Please,” she moaned, barely conscious of what she spoke or screamed into the light. “Celise...”

She made out a tall figure through the haze, standing at the center of the storm, eyes glowing even brighter than everything else, hair whipping out in strands of pure power.

“Celise,” she whispered again, pushing against the light, and lost the last of her grip on herself.

Everything was color.

Then nothing.

Nothing?

Firu blinked. Lowered her arms in the sudden silence.

Realized she had been trying to claw out her own eyes.

“Celise?”

Right next to her knelt Poethra with her face planted in the snow and her scrawny ass poking about in a pose that might have been comical under other circumstances. Firu unsteadily tugged the old woman upright and was relieved to see recognition register a moment later in her dark eyes.

Celise lay in a huddle still farther away, unstirring, rapier nowhere to be seen. Firu tried to rise, but her limbs refused to hold her weight and she felt as if her flesh would slide right off her bones. Poethra fared little better on her own attempt.

Then Firu heard a voice.

“Celise!” she called out again. She craned her head forward, struggling to make out Celise’s words. But it was hopeless. She was too far away.

Celise was looking at something, she realized then.

Strength seemed to be returning to her arms faster than it was to her legs. Firu squirmed and dragged herself closer.

And this time, she did hear.

“Morzend...” Celise murmured hoarsely, gaze fixed upon the forest beyond.

Despite the pain still crackling along her skin, Firu crawled to her feet. Sure enough, mere moments later, lanky Mor stumbled out from the woods, dark robes torn, sandy hair mottled with blood, skin stretched and gray. His eyes were wild and confused, a far cry from the usual sleepy, hooded expression that graced his countenance.

“Oh good, you got those fuckers,” he said, as he took in the scene before him, and sank to his knees. Confusion fled his gaze. His voice, though strained, was infused with uncharacteristic rage.

“Mor,” said Firu, and forced herself forward. “Mor, what happened?”

“Zu, he’s —” Mor began, through gritted teeth. “They got him. The lodestone too...”

The heat of battle had long subsided. Even the pain was beginning to fade, slowly but surely. Firu knelt down beside him, eyes dry, ears ringing, head swimming. “I’ll hunt them down,” she said. “I’ll make them pay.”

But he shook his head. “We’ve been betrayed...”

His eyes fluttered shut. He spoke no more.