Heat tore past Raff's face, hot enough to singe his hair. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but white light. Light? No. Fire. Fire raged under him. Anima was nowhere to be seen.

I'm alive. I didn't get stabbed.

He barely had time to register that before he fell. Without Anima, the shadows were no longer holding him up. Raff flailed, remembered his magic, then thrust his hand out desperately. Stop, stop, stop burning! The blast of fire spluttered, then leaped back up to full strength. It's someone else's magic. Stronger magic than his. He couldn't stop it.

He was so close. Wasted too much time. The fire was licking at his skin, already hot. So much fire. It could only be one person. It had to be. "Cecile!" he shouted.

The blast petered out. He plopped to the ground on all fours. The earth around him was hot, blackened from the flame and winking with embers; he jumped back to his feet before they could do worse than singe. Cecile ran over to him. "Where did you come from?" she gasped, exasperated more than anything.

"I..." he gestured weakly. How could he explain everything that had happened? Sab, and Tenebrae, and the cells...

Cecile yanked him by the collar. For a heart-stopping moment, their faces were close, her eyes huge, pools to drown in. What—she can't be—

Shadow sliced through his shoulder, barely missing his neck by an inch. He shouted, startled, and whirled. Anima wasn't down yet?

The green cloak was ash-grey and smoking badly. The mask was blackened with soot. Every inch of exposed skin was reddened, some of it even sloughing off, skin and fat peeling off his fingers and dripping at his feet. Bone peeped through the ruined appendages. Raff had to fight the urge to gag at the sight, but Anima barely seemed to notice. He gestured, making a shape more complex than half-melted fingers should be able to. Shadow lanced out at them in long spider-leg tendrils. From above, below, every direction, the sharp-tipped tendrils closed in around them.

"Raff, get back!" Cecile demanded. Fire danced around her head, draped over her shoulders, sparked around her fingers. She was a being of flame, anointed by it. A wall of fire sprung up between her and Anima. It didn't look hot enough or tall enough, but every shadow that passed over it disintegrated. Anima grunted with displeasure and backed away. He didn't go far; only far enough to stalk slowly around the edge of the wall in search of a new angle of attack.

Raff backed away, but slowly. "Are you alright? You looked hurt!"

She huffed dismissively. "I'm fine." She danced forward, leaving burning footsteps where the ground hadn't already been blackened.

Raff had to admit, she looked fine. It was hard to gauge the baseline for her when she was so much stronger than him, but she was holding off Anima perfectly fine now. Whatever he'd done to her earlier, it didn't seem to be working anymore.

"Stop staring at the High Priestess and come help!" Giada shouted. He turned toward her voice and found her to the left of him. Her sword was a blur of metal, sparking with lightning, and then a ghoul's head fell to the floor, while the two behind it seized, caught in a blast of her lightning.

Raff blinked and shook his head. Right! Ghouls! Cecile had Anima. He should fight elsewhere. All around them, Shrineguards were fighting, faces he recognized and ones he didn't. Even Pasquale was doing his best against a small contingent of ghouls, cornering them with the help of Alessa and Alessi. Behind the Shrineguards, a scared group of townsfolk and nobles huddled, bunkered down at the back of the room by the doors. Why don't they leave? he wondered, then immediately remembered the mob outside. They couldn't.

Can't... leave...

He ran over to Giada. "Sab's in there!" he said, gesturing at the mass of ghouls.

She grunted, too busy with a ghoul trying to jab her eyes out with its fingers to listen. Frustrated, Raff slashed its knees. The dry bone gave away easily. The ghoul tumbled away, and Giada stepped back. She ran a hand over her brow and heaved out a labored breath. Raff stepped in, covering for her while she caught her breath. His sword came alight as he thumbed over the soulstone. One ghoul caught fire, then another, then another. It spread through the ones in front of them slowly, but didn't stop them completely. They started to close in around him, pressing from all sides. Raff stepped backwards slowly. If they surrounded him, he'd be in trouble. The same as Sab was.

With a hiss, steel separated skull from spine, and suddenly Giada was beside him again. "Sab's in there?" she repeated, tone quizzical.

Raff nodded. "We had to—" he dodged a clawed hand "—run through, and he—" a flaming kick narrowly missed his ankles "—he couldn't, we, we got separated."

She laughed, and Raff gave her a look. It wasn't funny.

"Holy shit," Giada breathed, expression shifting. "You're serious?"

Ducking a jab to the eyes, he nodded solemnly.

"No way," she muttered, staring out at the expanse. Then, angrily, she started hacking away at the ghouls in front of her faster than before. "We have to get him out of there!"

Raff joined in, trying to keep up to her speed. Sparks snapped against his skin, electric rather than fire, and then a stray bolt connected to his arm. Pain jolted through it, followed a second later by an uncomfortable numbness. He fell back, rubbing his arm. "Careful!" he admonished her. "You almost—"

"Yeah, like your flames have never—"

A blur, out of the corner of his eye. The whoosh of a blade passing through air. Instinctively, Raff parried. His sword met something, not just air, and then he was staring at a man-shaped piece of the carnage from the left of him, somehow peeled away from where it ought to be. A moment passed; the illusion fell. Cajetan stood before him, as cocky and handsome as ever.

"Saw me coming? How embarrassing," Cajetan said, clicking his tongue at himself. He retreated a step. Raff moved to follow him, but the man vanished again, fading away into thin air. He froze, waiting for a blur, a giveaway. Turned half toward Giada, wary. Cajetan wasn't invisible. It was only an illusion. An illusion of the world around h—

A blur! Towards the civilians. Raff sliced at the air and sent fire flying at the blur. "Duck!" he shouted.

The man Cajetan had been aiming for ducked, hands over his head. Blood spurted, but only from his arm. A small wooden shield materialized where the fire should have hit Cajetan, and then the man himself appeared, tossing his head to flick his hair out of his eye. Cajetan clicked his tongue again, narrowing his eyes at Raff as he slid the shield away onto his back, where it vanished. "Don't you have ghouls to fight?"

Raff gave no answer, aside from moving in slowly, closing the distance. Behind Cajetan, he made eye contact with the one he'd been aiming for. Who amongst the crowd was worth attacking? One of the nobles?

Matteo lifted his head out of his arms and caught his eye.

Of all people, Raff thought. Then Cajetan began to blur.

This time, he didn't give the man the chance to fade away, but leaped at him. Cajetan dodged, sliding out of his reach. Colors played over Cajetan's skin, a snatch of ghouls, the people huddling by the door, the Shrine wall. Always a second too late for him to blend in. Raff chased him unrelentingly. If he didn't give Cajetan a moment to match himself to the background, he couldn't fade away.

Cajetan slammed his foot into the ground and stopped himself dead. He pivoted, suddenly facing Raff. With both hands, he thrust a sword up at Raff from hip-height, aiming to gut him. Raff backpedaled. The floor slid out from under his feet, refusing to stop him as quickly as it had Cajetan. Cajetan stepped forward. The blade pressed against his armor. Raff all but fell toward it, unable to stop himself in time. The blade glittered, promising a quick death as it cut through the leather like a hot knife through butter.

With all his might, Raff sucked in his stomach, turned his hips back, swung his ribs out, and twisted his body around the sword. He swung wildly to the side and had to dance to catch himself, his balance gone. Cajetan stepped after him, chasing him down. On his heels, he sidestepped-staggered away. Metal clashed, sparks flew. The flame on his blade extinguished. He had no concentration to waste on spells. Every fiber of his body was trained on keeping himself alive. Cajetan's sword was a blaze of silver, dancing with the wind. He had his balance for a second, lost it, found it again, Cajetan forcing him off and onto his heels with each blow. Backstep. Deflect. Backstep. He felt his sword shudder under the weight of Cajetan's blows, heard it chip as he was forced to take a hit on the edge.

Backstep. His heel hit something he wasn't expecting. Raff staggered. He felt his balance swing, shifting up, towards his head. His other foot lifted off the floor. Cajetan slashed down at him. He managed to get his sword up, but the grip was weak, wrong. Raff took the blow. It reverberated down the sword into the arm Giada had shocked earlier. This time, he went fully numb. The sword slid out of his grip.

Cajetan's smile was fierce. He raised his sword again. Raff was still falling. His sword spun away with a clatter. Out of reach. No weapon, no magic. Cajetan's sword fell.

No magic?

Raff threw his hand out. Reached for Cajetan's face. Cajetan smirked, no doubt thinking he did so in desperation. The blade plunged down at him. He grit his teeth and drew on the magic deep inside of him, the spark of fire that lived somewhere deep in his soul, not in the soulstone. It flared to life. Instantly, quicker than he'd ever called on it before. Hunger raged through him with the force of the fire, the two things one.

The sword touched his chest. Fire ignited in his palm. Go! He poured everything he had into it, blasting all the magic he could gather into Cajetan's face.

Cajetan screamed and jerked backward. This time, it was his sword that clattered away as he slapped his face to kill the fire. The second he was free, Raff staggered back, caught himself, then lunged for his sword. He snatched it up and pointed it at Cajetan. "Give it up! You're disarmed! You've lost!"

"Only a fool shows his whole hand at once," Cajetan snarled, one hand pressed to his singed eye. His other hand dropped to his belt. A second ago, it had been empty, but now it sagged under the weight of a dozen weapons. Too quickly for Raff's eyes to follow, Cajetan flicked something at him. He threw himself to the side. Behind him, something clattered over the tile floor. He turned. Needles shone in the dim light. Something thick and black had been smeared over them. Poison? He shuddered. If Cajetan had hit—

Cajetan! He spun back around, but it was too late. He'd looked away for too long. The man was gone.

Raff ran to the last place he'd seen Cajetan and looked around. He couldn't have gotten far. Over there, that blur, was that him?

A hand caught him by the wrist and stopped him short. Raff turned. Disgust was writ clear over Matteo's face. "Heretic," he accused Raff at a growl. "I knew it. I knew there'd be nothing good from you."

"What do you..." Raff's voice trailed off. No. He'd done it again. Used magic without a soulstone. Without even thinking, at that. And Matteo, blasted Matteo, he'd been the one to see it. He staggered from the enormity of it all, as his future fell to pieces before his eyes. No. No. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. "No," he managed, softly. But there was nothing to say.

Laughter from overhead. Cajetan! Raff spun, only for Matteo to box his ears. "Stupid boy! Drop your weapon. You're coming with me."

"He's—Cajetan, the illusionist, he's right over there, if I just—"

Matteo glared at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks inflamed. It occurred to Raff suddenly that Matteo wasn't fighting at all. He wasn't even trying to help. Can he? he wondered. Was Matteo strong enough to stand and fight? Certain events suddenly shifted into perspective, slotting into place with enough force to make him stagger. Matteo can't fight. Is he too weak? Afraid?

He was yanked closer before he could chase the thought any further. The scent of meat and sweet bread hung on Matteo's breath, the memory of expensive foods at odds with the carnage around them. "You damn no-name heretic," Matteo snarled. "Shut your mouth and surrender. We'll have you hung alongside that illusionist you like so much."

Raff pulled away, contempt in his eyes. He couldn't surrender. Unlike Matteo, he could fight. Sab was in trouble. Cajetan was loose. Cecile was struggling with Anima. He couldn't be the only one not fighting.

Nausea struck, sudden enough to make him retch. He swallowed back the vomit, a hand pressed to his mouth. What? He'd felt fine a moment ago.

Matteo batted the sword from his hand. He no longer had the strength to fight it. His whole body felt weak. He sunk to his knees. Matteo shouted something at him, spittle dotting his face. He couldn't hear it. Everything was swirling away from him.

A black and a blue eye stared at him, boring into his soul from such a thin, pale face. Shouldn't shadow-walk if you don't have the element for it. She'd said so, hadn't she? He sagged to the ground. Then, was this—?