Brye took a choking breath, air driven out of her lungs as the fingers squeezed around her throat with ever increasing strength.

“A fucking threshold!” Shery’s voice roared, tightening her vice-like grip. “I should’ve known a freak like you would turn against the Boss.”

The fox gasped, the whole of her focus centered on pouring as much elemental energy as she could to keep her throat from collapsing under the grip, her hands scratching at Shery’s hardened grey skin. A fruitless gesture considering how much more physically stronger Shery was.

Gasping, the Nogitsune felt her focus waver.

The fingers dug further into her throat, her windpipe now a fraction of the size it should be. Brye wheezed, claws faltering; her thoughts were growing muddled as the oxygen deprivation was slowly starting to get to her.

“DIE!” the gray maiden roared, lifting her by the neck and slamming her head first against the floor.

Everything spun, and her focus shattered. The power she was using to protect herself vanished, and Shery’s grip squeezed tight without missing a beat. Brye’s eyes teared up, barely able to see the world around her spinning and blurring, her lungs burning. There was a thudding noise.

And suddenly, release.

Brye coughed, air rushing in with deep gasps. The maiden lay flat on her chest, trying to recover her bearings through a coughing fit. The world was spinning, but it was quickly coming back to focus.

A soft hand touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Brye’s eyes flickered over her shoulder. A soldier, leather vest and helmet, dark skin, pointy ears. From the Dark Elf genus, without a doubt. “Peachy,” she croaked. “Shery?”

The soldier turned away from the fox to point at the gray-skinned companion. Her last mistake- the fox had reached out and grasped at the blade on the soldier’s hip. Drawing it out, Brye didn’t miss a beat and coated the blade with her powers right as she thrust it through the guard’s throat. The dark elf didn’t have a chance to realize what had happened until it was too late.

The scent of blood filled the air. Brye yanked the short blade out before her victim could even get a chance of fighting back. The Nogitsune rushed towards the door. “Help!” Her half-choked scream came with a swirl of the world around her, the room shifting as her new position placed her right at the side of the door.

The second guard stepped in, blade drawn, ready for combat. Her eyes widened at the sight of her companion bleeding out on the floor. That was as far as her shock went; a single swing from behind her was all Brye needed to sever the woman’s head from her shoulders.

“You learn that fancy sword shit in some expensive school?” A grim chuckle broke the moment of silence. Shery lay face down against the floor, looking at Brye with a smirk. “A little help?”

“I like you better when you’re on your knees.” Rolling her eyes, Brye ignored her companion, peering out the door and checking whether they had to worry about others or not.

“Get your head out of your cunt. Will you help me out or not?”

“Waste of energy. They used a small curse, it should wear off any second now.”

Confirming, the guards held the keys to the room. The fox silently closed the door, moving to strip the decapitated guard. “Get the other’s armor and put it on, I doubt we have much time.” It would be a bit of a tight fit for them both, but better than nothing.

With a grunt, Shery began to move, slowly at first, her strength returning to her bit by bit. Brye could sense the hundreds of little questions the maiden had and wasn’t speaking, and it aggravated her. She knew the damn maiden would wait until they were some place safer before she threw the sharpest ones her way.

“Do you think your illusions will help here?”

“No, it’s why you should put on that shit and pretend we’re part of this whole mess,” Brye huffed, turning around and presenting her back at her. “Help me strap this crap.”

“Your armor’s bloody.” Shery hadn’t missed a beat, fingers deftly tying the hardened leather.

“If they ask, we killed some ferals.”

A pause and a shift in thoughts. “We use the ferals to make it out?”

“Need Mark.”

And just like that the silence went from controlled to out of control. Shery growled. “Your bond’s speaking, we try to rescue him and we’re dead.”

Brye snorted, rolling her eyes. “I can read your thoughts. Half of them are pushing you to run out there and start looking for him.”

“I’m stronger than my bond.” A shove, pinning Brye against the wall. They stared into each other’s eyes. “Are you?”

The fact that Shery was asking was insulting. “You heard the Warlock, they plan to use Mark to wake up Elves,” Brye replied. “If that works, they’ll get a damn army, with no breaks because they don’t need the stupid collars.”

“Since when do we care about that shit? We’re crooks, not heroes.”

The image of the Warlock pinning her down made her hackles rise, and anger sloshed through her like magma.

“You don’t get it.” Brye shoved back, stepping forward and pointing a finger at her. “We fucked up. We lost the cargo, and we left a human worth a thousand times his weight in elemental stones in the hands of a hag looking to start a second civil war. Wanna bet what the Boss would do to us?” Her snarl was clear, threatening. “He’d send us right back here with orders to get Mark out, or kill him.”

Shery’s thoughts snapped towards the mental image of her hands wrapped around Mark’s throat and snapping his neck. The revulsion and fear that came from the bond made the maiden’s skin crawl. “Shit.” That had been the nudge the strongwoman needed to agree.

Brye nodded. “This is our best chance to get him out of here.”

“Shit.” A grimace. “Do you have a plan?”

“Pretend we’re soldiers, track Mark’s scent, hope the Warlock’s not with him.”

“We’re not dark elves.”

“I picked up on no less than five different genuses out there.” Not missing a beat, she turned to open the door. “Just move fast and they won’t have the time to notice. Pretend you’re someone who’s in deep shit.”

“Not going to be hard.”

With a shared nod, they exited the room, Brye taking a second to smear the blade’s bloody edge against the carpet before sheathing it. They immediately stepped into the empty corridor and began to move. Not running, but a brisk enough pace to pretend they weren’t about to stop if someone called out to them.

Brye’s nose picked up on a familiar smell right away. “Over here.”

The building was not terribly complex, four behemoth trees that had been connected by a singular wooden structure grown out of the massive trunks. The whole thing likely had several floors, and if Brye had to guess by how polished and well-carpeted it was, this was supposed to be a small palace or fortress in some way. At the very least, it had been at some point in time.

The consideration of Wildlings having built such a thing was worrying to a certain degree. Why would they waste this much effort into such a thing? A part of Brye reminded her of the old Elven courts; the south of the Kingdom had been littered with them. Had these Wildlings taken over the ruins and claimed themselves the new owners?

No, that was not something to focus on right now.

“This way.”

Her ears picked up on rushed footsteps, and Brye stopped Shery for the split second necessary to see another dark elf running by. The maiden stank of fear, and judging by the look on her eyes, she had a lot worrying her.

“Ferals?”

“Didn’t risk reading her,” Brye replied. “But that’d be a good bet.” Her head snapped to the side. “Scent’s this…” Pausing, Brye’s eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“I know that look.”

“I smell his blood.”

Their feet had started moving before either of them could process the thought, and a sense of urgency and fear lurched out, gripping both of them with such a clear hold that it was impossible for it to be anything other than the bond kicking in very loudly. Brye’s fingers brushed against her throat as she ran- no collar, yet the presence of the influence upon her thoughts was clear in her mind.

Even aware that the bond was urging her forward, she couldn’t truly fight against it. Mark had been hurt, might be in danger. Every instinct in her body urged her to move faster.

As they ran past one of the many windows, her focus was momentarily distracted when she spotted something in the courtyard that refused to be ignored.

The Warlock stood in the center of a large glowing circle. The air around the old maiden pulsated with magic, the very air wavering as the ground beneath her pulsated with power. Slowly, the lines in the circle were stretching inwards, runes Brye had never seen before forming and interconnecting with one another, the complexity of the patterns growing exponentially.

“What is-”

“Just run.”

Brye grit her teeth. A ritual, and a big one at that.

Whatever it was meant to do, they most certainly did not want to be around when it was completed.