A sharp whistle echoed through the forest.
Without hesitation, Saige leaped onto the highest branch overlooking the clearing. Siena and Emery followed, each ascending a neighboring tree until the three herbalists formed a wide triangle above the forest floor.
Saige stood at its center while the two women positioned themselves opposite one another, every movement deliberate as though they had rehearsed the ritual countless times before.
Below them, Callista lowered herself onto one knee, her expression serene as she rested both palms flat against the cool, damp earth.
The three Herbalists slowly closed their eyes, their awareness turning inward.
Siena raised one hand toward Saige, her palm held upright while her other hovered just above her chest. Across from her, Emery mirrored the posture. At the center of their formation, Saige extended both hands outward, each palm facing one of the women, bridging the gap between them.
For several long moments, the world held its breath. The forest remained perfectly still; even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the silence of the ritual.
Then the marks upon the backs of their necks began to glow.
The light pulsed softly beneath their skin, rising and fading in a steady rhythm as the three herbalists reached beyond words, sensing only one another's intentions.
It was Siena who first synchronized with Saige, her consciousness merging with his like a tributary joining a river. Moments later, Emery's presence settled into the connection, until the three functioned with remarkable unity, a single mind in three bodies, all without sharing a single thought.
Only after Saige felt the bond stabilize did he extend it toward Callista.
She sensed it immediately.
Without hesitation, she poured her own Vitalis into the connection. The energy flowed through Saige, a warm current that then spread across the living network the herbalists had woven together. It was a force multiplier, allowing Callista's Gift to reach far deeper into the surrounding forest than she could have ever managed alone.
The air gradually grew heavier, thick with an unseen power.
Leaves trembled overhead despite the absence of wind. Beneath Callista's hands, blades of grass slowly lost their color while nearby vines shriveled against the roots that had once sustained them. Moss peeled away from ancient bark as the Vitalis sustaining the forest was carefully drawn away, not violently, but with extraordinary precision.
The withering spread in a silent wave from the center. Grass yellowed. Wildflowers collapsed into brittle, colorless husks. Shrubs withered where they stood.
The towering trees surrounding the clearing began to dry from the inside out, their branches groaning as moisture abandoned the wood. Fruits shrank upon their stems, leaves curled inward before drifting silently toward the forest floor, and the wave of lifelessness continued expanding in every direction.
It reached the waiting sirens.
Neither Fabia nor Warren hesitated.
The marks upon their necks ignited as both Aegiscall wielders raised their hands in unison. An invisible force burst outward, sending a powerful shockwave rippling through the ground before curving upward into a transparent barrier that enclosed every Siren and every Pegacampus within its shimmering protection.
The dying forest reached the barrier—and stopped.
Inside, the grass remained lush and green beneath their feet, the roots continuing to draw nourishment from the earth, untouched by Callista's Gift. Outside, however, the forest continued to surrender its life. The wave of withering rolled deeper into the darkness, a silent drought consuming everything beyond the shield.
Just as Callista felt she had gathered enough Vitalis from the surrounding forest, Saige sensed her intention through the connection they shared. Without opening his eyes, he carefully diverted a portion of the gathered energy beneath her feet.
The earth answered.
The ground trembled before thick roots burst through the soil, lifting Callista into the air. Layer after layer intertwined beneath her, forming a towering pillar of living wood that continued to grow until its highest branches stretched over the clearing.
Immediately, the shriekers noticed.
Hundreds of pale faces snapped upward.
The horde surged toward her.
They clawed at the rising roots, scrambling over one another in a frenzy as countless hands reached desperately toward the lone figure standing above them. Their ruined jaws snapped relentlessly while guttural growls and rasping shrieks rose together into a deafening chorus.
The stench hit her a heartbeat later: rotting flesh, old blood, and a decay so thick it seemed to cling to the air itself.
Callista instinctively recoiled, her senses flaring violently beneath the overwhelming assault, and for the briefest moment her concentration wavered.
The connection shuddered.
Then Saige steadied it.
Siena and Emery immediately followed, pouring more Vitalis into the living network until the current stabilized once more. The familiar warmth flowed back into Callista, allowing her breathing to steady as she forced herself to focus once again.
Slowly, she rose to her feet atop the swaying pillar. Both palms lifted toward the night sky.
A single sphere of golden light condensed between her hands, no larger than an apple at first.
With every beat of her heart, she fed more Vitalis into its core. The light intensified until it became painful to look at directly, illuminating the clearing with the brilliance of a miniature sun. Shadows fled across the forest floor as the sphere swelled to the size of a melon, until it grew nearly half a meter across.
Its weight became almost unbearable.
The air around it shimmered and warped beneath the sheer concentration of Vitalis compressed within.
Callista gritted her teeth.
With every remaining ounce of strength she possessed, she thrust both hands upward.
The sphere shot into the air.
It climbed several dozen meters before slowing to a halt, suspended above the clearing like a miniature sun hanging over the forest.
Callista's arms never lowered.
Her palms remained raised toward the sphere as though invisible threads still connected them, her body a conduit for the power she now commanded.
Below, the shriekers continued piling over one another, clawing toward her in a frenzy.
Then Callista spread her fingers.
The sphere answered.
Rather than exploding, it unraveled.
Countless streams of golden Vitalis poured from its surface like rain, descending silently over the horde below. The light seeped effortlessly through rotting flesh and exposed bone, passing through every Shrieker it touched before branching into another... then another... until thousands were connected beneath a single living network of golden veins.
From every direction—north, south, east, west—the network spread with astonishing speed.
Even from the distant forest, more Shriekers stumbled into the expanding wave of light.
On top of the trees, the three Herbalists felt the strain all at once.
The connection was demanding more than their bodies could safely sustain. Saige clenched his jaw, his muscles screaming. Siena's breathing became ragged, each inhale a struggle. Emery's hands began trembling uncontrollably, her focus splintering.
Still they refused to let go. Together, they poured everything they had left into the ritual.
Then the bond shattered.
All three collapsed from their trees almost simultaneously.
"Catch them!" Lysander shouted.
Without hesitation, he sprinted forward alongside Raine and Corina while the remaining sirens burst through the Aegiscall barrier. They reached them just in time to break their fall, arms outstretched as the three crashed into them and rolled across the forest floor.
Callista never looked away.
She couldn't.
Every ounce of concentration remained fixed upon the shrinking sphere overhead.
Its light was fading; the Vitalis sustaining it was being consumed faster than anticipated.
Ignoring the growing weakness that spread through her limbs like a chill, Callista poured more of her own energy into the sphere, forcing it to remain intact as the golden current continued flooding through the endless sea of Shriekers.
For one long heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
The horde simply stood there, motionless. Golden veins pulsed beneath decaying flesh, a silent, intricate pattern woven across the entire army.
Then... the corruption broke.
One shrieker convulsed so violently its spine arched backward with an audible crack. Another's chest expanded unnaturally before rupturing from within. A third's skull split apart as though something inside had suddenly become too great to contain.
Then the chain reaction began.
Bodies burst apart across the clearing. Heads exploded. Arms tore free. Ribs erupted through rotting flesh. Eyeballs launched from their sockets before splattering across the blood-soaked earth.
The horde collapsed by the hundreds, then by the thousands.
Yet beyond the slaughter, more shriekers were already rushing toward the clearing.
Callista's arms trembled beneath the unbearable weight of the Gift.
Every breath came harder than the last.
Her lips had long since gone dry, and her knees threatened to give way beneath her as the sphere overhead continued shrinking with every shrieker it reached. More and more of its light dispersed into the endless horde, each thread of Vitalis seeking another corrupted body before unraveling within it.
Yet the shriekers never stopped coming. From every corner of the clearing, fresh waves emerged from the darkness, climbing over the piles of fallen limbs and bodies without hesitation.
At the edge of the forest, safely beyond the reach of the dying woodland, the remaining sirens watched helplessly.
"She can't keep this up," Raine said, unable to hide the worry in her voice. "If she keeps feeding it Vitalis, she's going to collapse. We have to get her."
Lysander never took his eyes off Callista. "...Not yet."
High above the clearing, Callista could barely keep herself standing. Her vision blurred. Every instinct screamed at her to stop.
Instead... she reached deeper. Not into the forest, but into herself.
The mark upon the back of her neck blazed brighter than it ever had before as she drew upon the last reserves of her own Vitalis and forced them into the fading sphere.
For a brief moment, the dying light swelled once more. Golden radiance spilled across the battlefield as fresh streams descended upon the advancing shriekers. The wave spread farther than before, reaching hundreds that had only just entered her line of sight.
One by one, they stumbled. Then another. Then dozens more. Bodies collided. The endless momentum of the horde turned against itself as those in front collapsed beneath the sudden convulsions while those behind continued charging forward, trampling their own kind beneath sheer weight and numbers.
The advance slowed. Not stopped... but slowed.
The sphere overhead dimmed again. Its brilliant glow faded until only a handful of golden strands remained drifting toward the last few shriekers within its reach.
The final shrieker convulsed. Its chest burst apart.
Then... darkness.
The sphere disappeared.
Callista's hands slowly fell to her sides. The light vanished from the mark upon her neck, and her eyes rolled upward until only white remained. Then her body went limp.
"NOW!" Lysander roared.
Callista toppled from the towering pillar of roots. She plummeted toward the earth.
For a human, the fall would have shattered every bone in their body.
Callista struck the ground with a sickening thud that sent dust erupting into the air. Her siren physiology spared her from certain death, though the impact left her unconscious, a dark bruise already forming along the side of her forehead. Blood immediately trickled from the side of her head where she had struck a protruding root.
The surviving shriekers noticed immediately. A few hundred still remained. With guttural snarls, they changed direction and rushed toward the unconscious Senzara.
Lysander reacted before they had crossed half the distance.
His sword left his hand.
The blade spun through the air before burying itself cleanly through the skull of the leading Shrieker, sending the corpse tumbling backward into those behind it.
"Move!"
The sirens burst from the treeline. Arrows sliced through the night. Steel flashed beneath the moonlight. The remaining shriekers met them head-on. Compared to the thousands that had filled the clearing only moments ago, the battle was finally manageable.
Still... manageable did not mean easy. Claws tore across skin. Rotten teeth found flesh. Several sirens stumbled beneath the relentless assault before scrambling back to their feet, refusing to yield even an inch.
The stench was suffocating.
None of them cared.
While the others held the line, Lysander reached Callista first. He knelt beside her, checking that she was still breathing before lifting her carefully into his arms. Without wasting another second, he carried her back toward the forest, laying her gently beside the unconscious Herbalists.
As he rose, his eyes met Fabia's. He didn't need to speak. A single nod was enough.
Fabia immediately understood. He remained behind, positioning himself between the unconscious sirens and the battlefield while Warren fell into step beside Lysander. Together, they charged back into the clearing.
Could it even be called a fair fight? Ten sirens against hundreds of shriekers.
Perhaps not.
But fairness had never decided the outcome of a battlefield.
With every passing minute, the sirens carved a path through the remaining horde, fighting relentlessly as they advanced toward the building waiting at the center of the clearing.
~~~
Fabia remained behind with the unconscious sirens.
With a sweep of both hands, the mark upon the back of his neck shimmered once more. The fading Aegiscall barrier rippled before expanding outward again, enveloping the Pegacampi and the sirens within its invisible protection.
Only after the barrier stabilized did he kneel beside Saige. Two fingers pressed gently against the side of the Herbalist's neck.
A pulse.
Weak... but present.
Relief washed over him only briefly before he moved to Siena, then Emery, checking each of them in turn. Their breathing remained shallow, their pulses dangerously slow, yet they were alive. They had exhausted nearly every reserve of Vitalis their bodies possessed. If they could endure the night, they would recover.
Then his attention shifted toward Callista.
His expression immediately hardened. Blood continued to trickle from the side of her head where she had struck the ground. Kneeling beside her, Fabia carefully pressed a folded piece of cloth against the wound, applying steady pressure in an attempt to slow the bleeding. It was a crude measure—only enough to keep someone alive until a true Haelar tended to her.
As he worked, more warning signs revealed themselves. Callista's lips had lost nearly all their color. Her skin had become unnaturally pale. Several fingernails had cracked completely, leaving dried streaks of blood beneath them, while the tips of her fingers were beginning to darken with an unhealthy black discoloration.
A chill settled in Fabia's stomach. He gently lifted one of her eyelids.
Nothing.
Only white.
Her eyes had rolled completely backward.
"...No."
Without wasting another second, he slipped one arm beneath her shoulders and another beneath her legs before lifting her into his arms.
He hurried toward the Tidecraft resting beneath the trees. The hatch responded with a sharp hiss as it slid open, allowing him inside. He carefully laid Callista across one of the padded benches.
The moment her body relaxed... it began.
Scales erupted along her skin, spreading upward in shimmering waves as her legs fused together. Bone shifted beneath flesh. Muscles twisted into new positions, and within seconds, her tail had fully emerged.
It thrashed once against the floor before falling still.
Fabia stared.
Scales cracked and peeled away from Callista's tail. They didn't simply shed—they broke apart. The fractured scales scattered across the floor of the Tidecraft like broken pieces of glass. Tiny cracks spread over the remaining ones, each movement causing another to splinter free.
Fabia's expression tightened. "We have to get you to a river... or the ocean," he murmured, brushing several loose scales aside. "Hang in there, Cal."
There was no response.
Callista's chest rose only faintly beneath the shallow rhythm of her breathing.
Satisfied she was at least stable enough to move, Fabia stepped out of the Tidecraft. The moment his feet touched the forest floor, shimmering scales rippled over his own legs before receding, his tail separating into two human legs once more.
Without wasting another second, he hurried back toward the remaining unconscious Herbalists.
~~~
Meanwhile... the last shrieker fell.
Raine's sword flashed once through the darkness. Steel met flesh. The creature split cleanly in half before collapsing into the blood-soaked clearing.
Silence followed.
Not true silence, only the sudden absence of endless snarls and screeching. The sirens stood motionless, drawing heavy breaths. Blood dripped from blades. Rot clung to their hands. Their clothes were stained with dirt, gore, and blackened ichor. None of them lowered their weapons.
Slowly, almost instinctively, every gaze shifted toward the building. If the prisoners were still alive... this was the moment.
Lysander took the first step forward.
Then—
CLICK.
A metallic sound echoed through the night. Another. Then dozens more.
The unmistakable sound of rifles being cocked. Footsteps thundered beyond the walls. Floodlights ignited. The entire compound erupted in blinding white light. In an instant, the darkness vanished in the area.
The sirens found themselves surrounded by hundreds of armed men pouring from the building, rifles raised, laser sights dancing across bows, and exposed skin. Every barrel pointed directly at them.
The sirens froze.
Kair slowly tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword. His breathing deepened. A low hiss escaped between clenched teeth. The battle with the Shriekers hadn't awakened the predator sleeping inside him.
This did.
His pupils narrowed into razor-thin slits. Every heartbeat. Every shifting boot. Every trembling finger resting against a trigger, he heard all of it.
The world sharpened.
The scent of sweat. Gun oil. Fresh blood. Adrenaline. His instincts screamed to strike first. One command from Lysander and he'd tear through the nearest line before the humans could even react.
Neither side moved.
Seconds stretched. Then minutes. The tension became almost tangible, as though the air itself had forgotten how to move.
Finally— a voice echoed from somewhere above the compound. Deep. Confident.
"Who the hell are you people?"
Silence.
"I asked a question." The voice hardened. "Introduce yourselves."
Lysander shifted his weight and took a single step forward.
BANG!
The gunshot cracked through the night. Dirt exploded inches from his boot. Almost instantly, dozens of rifles shifted, every barrel centering on his chest.
"One more step," the unseen man warned, his tone calm now, almost conversational. "And the next round goes through your skull."
Lysander lowered his eyes to the fresh bullet hole near his feet. Then smiled. "A bold threat..." he said evenly. "Coming from someone too frightened to show himself."
A few of the sirens exchanged amused glances.
The voice laughed. "You got a mouth on you." His amusement quickly vanished. "You walk into my territory. Kill everything outside my walls. Then stand there mocking me?" He clicked his tongue. "You have no idea whose doorstep you're standing on."
Lysander's smile never faded. "Then show yourself." He slowly spread his arms. "Let us find out exactly who we're dealing with."
Another laugh drifted through the floodlights. "I'd almost find that intimidating..." a pause, "...if you weren't standing perfectly still because every rifle here is aimed at your head." The man's voice sharpened. "I like your nerve. But don't mistake my patience for hesitation."
Another metallic chorus rippled across the compound. More rifles. More safeties disengaging.
Raine let out an exaggerated sigh and threw both hands into the air. "Oh, for the love of—" She looked from the floodlit building to the unseen voice. "Egos. Egos. Egos." She sighed loudly. "What in the actual fuck? Get your face out here so we can talk."
A chuckle echoed from somewhere inside the building. "You've got quite the mouth on you for a pretty little girl."
"Ugh." Raine grimaced. "Humans."
"I'll ask one last time." The voice hardened. "Who the fuck are y'all?"
"We're looking for our friends," Raine answered. "Rumor has it you've got them."
Silence. Then a laugh. "'Friends,' huh?" the man said. "Been a long damn time since I called somebody that."
Raine glanced at Lysander. "The picture."
Without a word, Lysander reached into the pouch at his side and pulled out a worn photograph. The edges had long since curled, but Emily's face was still unmistakable beneath the floodlights. "We're here for the girl," he said, holding the picture up. "Her... and everyone you took with her. Return them, and we leave. Nobody else has to die tonight."
The voice remained silent for several long seconds. Then— "Ohhh... the blonde one."
The sirens exchanged quick glances. Emily was inside.
"Nah." The man laughed. "I think I'll keep her."
Kair's grip tightened around his sword. The muscles in Kair's jaw flexed as he prepared to move, but Lysander spoke before he could.
"Hold."
Kair didn't argue. Reluctantly, his fingers loosened around the hilt.
Lysander looked briefly toward Warren. Warren understood immediately, his hand subtly lowering.
Then Lysander returned his attention to the building. "One last warning," he said calmly. "Return Emily."
Another laugh echoed across the clearing. "Or what?"
Lysander's expression didn't change. "Or all of you… will die."
The heavy steel doors groaned open. Out stepped a man with his hands tucked inside his pockets, a smug grin plastered across his face as if the entire situation amused him.
Dan.
The man responsible for Harrison, and Harlene.
Dan stepped forward beneath the floodlights, his boots crunching over dried blood and shattered bone. Only now did his smug grin begin to fade.
His eyes wandered across the clearing. The countless corpses. Severed limbs. Exploded bodies. Blackened blood soaking into the earth.
He slowly looked back at the sirens. "...How the hell did y'all survive that?"
Lysander met his gaze without flinching. "Fuck around..." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...and find out."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Dan laughed. A genuine laugh. "I like y'all." He glanced around the battlefield and wrinkled his nose. "Hate the damn smell out here."
He casually raised one hand. "Stand down."
No one moved.
The rifles remained fixed on the sirens.
Several soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, fingers still resting against their triggers. One swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Dan and the blood-soaked clearing littered with thousands of mutilated shriekers. Another tightened his grip instead of lowering his weapon.
"...Boss?" one of them asked cautiously.
Dan didn't even look at him. "I said..." His voice remained calm, almost bored. "...stand down."
Still, the hesitation lingered. "They just wiped out an entire horde," another soldier muttered. "What if they—"
Dan finally turned. His smile was gone. In two slow steps he closed the distance, grabbed the barrel of the soldier's rifle, and shoved it downward. "If I wanted them dead..." he said quietly, "...they'd already be dead."
The soldier didn't answer.
Dan's eyes swept across the firing line. "Lower your damn rifles..." He paused just long enough for the silence to settle. "...before I put a round through one of your heads."
No one doubted him.
One by one, rifles lowered. Metal clicked as safeties were re-engaged.
The clearing fell silent once more.
Only then did Dan's grin return. "There we go." He looked back toward the sirens. "Come inside." He shrugged. "We can talk like civilized people." His grin returned. "...Then kill each other later."