‘Rest’ was a phrase long-evaporated from Cailu’s vernacular. It seemed that mere hours after he and Naeemah had quashed the immediate Defiled threat on San Island, they found themselves once again called back to court.

Their battles on his assigned island had slowed noticeably since Yomi’s departure, though he nor Naeemah would ever admit it aloud. The Defiled were building in strength and becoming more of a nuisance to the main cities of San, Shulan especially. He hoped Matt’s travels were proving successful and that he’d long since moved on to Ichi island.

Though convincing Magni of our meeting could cost him too much precious time.

“You look like you’re thinking,” Naeemah murmured at his shoulder.

They strolled together through the Capital of Nyarlothep, Katinas. Their destination was the second home Cailu was awarded long ago for his heroic deeds to Nyarlea. Despite the casual nature of the errand, both he and Naeemah donned their full combat attire.

He nodded in response to Naeemah’s query, puzzling his thoughts into the right words to say. Catgirls congregating from all islands passed them by, greeting him with warm smiles and afternoon greetings. He returned their grins without a second thought—simply another act he had to perform in his duties to the crown. Should any ear be bent in their direction, he couldn’t betray the confidence the citizens of Nyarlea held in him. Showing weakness was never an option.

“You’re worried about Matt,” Naeemah muttered behind her mask so that only he could hear.

He paused, returning a particularly energetic greeting from a pink-haired catgirl, then offered Naeemah a single curt nod.

“Ichi Island will challenge him, to be sure. However—” she paused, waiting for the next group of girls to pass after greeting Cailu. “If he has Shi Island’s man in his Party, he should be able to help them.”

Cailu chuckled—a dry, breathy cough that sounded more like a clearing of the throat. “Assuming he isn’t completely worthless.”

“Then they die, and we try again with the new men,” Naeemah replied. “Isn’t that your methodology with your catgirl companions?”

Cailu’s smile slipped for the span of a heartbeat, then returned when a blue-haired catgirl touched his shoulder and grinned. Naeemah’s comfort with him was both a blessing and a curse. No one else would dare speak to him with such a sharp tongue. At times he found it refreshing. Other times he wanted to strangle her shapely throat. “This is a wheel I wish to break, Naeemah. Not perpetuate.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “That’s interesting.”

Naeemah’s tone dug beneath his skin, serpentine eyes measuring him behind her dark mask. Do not give me reasons to doubt you, Naeemah. “Speak your mind.”

“Not here. You’ve taught me better than that.”

He sighed. The constant traveling, relentless battles, and lack of a good night’s sleep shaped his normally clear perceptions into negative interpretations. Of course he could trust his [Assassin]. Gods knew there was no one else that held such a position.

“Well, well. Lucky me,” a new voice purred at Cailu’s ear. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

Cailu and Naeemah spun to face whoever had managed to sneak up on both of them so discreetly. The [Assassin] drew her daggers while Cailu’s fingers lingered at the hilt of his sword.

The catgirl that grinned at them was unlike any Cailu had ever seen before. Her skin was a deep, rich brown, patterned with ivory spots on her face, throat, and arms—like a wildcat. Fiery orange eyes scrutinized the [Paladin] from head to toe. Black hair boasted patches and streaks of brilliant white, and her black ears and tail carried the same patterning of her skin in alabaster. Multiple colors and shapes of fabric wrapped around her chest, extending downward in a patchwork, flowing gown. Teeth of a long-slayed beast bedecked her ears and throat, and in her right hand, she shuffled two smooth, glimmering stones one over the other.

“Who are you?” Naeemah growled.

The girl’s grin widened. “I remember you, Naeemah. I expected you wouldn’t know me, though.” She motioned to herself. “I tend to blend in with the crowd, you see. Nothing distinctive to point out.”

“I will only ask one more time. If you wish to keep your tongue, identify yourself,” Naeemah commanded.

“Come now. Our tongues were gifts from Saoirse to service men. Isn’t that how the scrolls read?” She tilted her head toward Cailu. “Tell me, is that true?”

Her jests were quickly wearing thin. “State your business or take your leave,” Cailu snapped.

Other catgirls in the plaza glanced warily at the encounter, giving them a wide berth as they passed. No one wanted to get involved in a conflict. Especially not in Katinas with the queen’s right-hand man.

She shifted her weight so that her hips swayed to the right. Her two-toned tail wove back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm behind her back. Click, click, click. The stones moving in her hand only added to the effect, and her narrow gaze suggested she enjoyed toying with her audience. “The Guild Hall said you needed a capable healer.”

“Capable, yes,” Naeemah hissed. “I told them not to send me anyone without proven ability.”

“My name is Kirti,” she said, her smile never wavering. “Ichi Island was my home, like yours.” She looked pointedly at Naeemah. “We celebrated many peaceful years beneath your guidance, Naeemah. Magni’s leadership will bury the cities beneath the sands, and I refused to watch. Clearly, you also fled from beneath his thumb.”

“We’re not a charity, Kirti,” Cailu said. “Are you a healer or not?”

“And here I thought you’d be desperate by now,” Kirti giggled. Her voice was warm and rich. “I’m a [Witch Doctor].”

Third Classes were difficult to obtain—even the Royal Guard remained as [Crusaders] for the duration of their service. Cailu felt the first pangs of surprise pepper his features. Had this girl completed it on her own?

“You must know how the court feels about [Witch Doctor]s,” Naeemah said, lowering her daggers.

“That we’re on the same pedestal as [Necromancer]s? Of course. Everyone knows that.” Kirti shrugged her slender shoulders.

“You truly believe your healing arts are sufficient enough to support the three of us?” Cailu sneered. “Our previous [Dark Priest] struggled to do so.”

“A second Class? Of course she struggled,” Kirti replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “She fell behind both of you.”

It grated on Cailu’s nerves, but he steadied his words. “We will need to test your skills, Kirti.”

“I would expect no less from the Hero of Nyarlea,” Kirti replied.

“Watch your tone,” Naeemah warned.

Kirti reached forward and touched Naeemah’s cheek. The [Assassin] batted her wrist away the moment the girl’s fingertips brushed her face. “There was a time when you bowed to no one.”

“We all have a place, Witch.” Naeemah took a step back. “Touch me again, and you will lose your hand.”

“If you say so.” Kirti turned toward Cailu. “Shall we head to the gates?”

Kirti’s listless tone and irreverence toward him and Naeemah both demanded that he refuse her before putting her to trial. Even so, he could feel a dark magic pulsing beneath her flesh, emanating a dangerous aura that raised the hackles on the back of his neck. This girl was clearly confident in her skill and had the support of forces he dared not speak of, let alone commune.

And, as much as he loathed to admit it, tinges of desperation had crept into his resolve. They needed a skilled healer. Neither he nor Naeemah could maintain such a rigorous schedule for much longer. One mistake on their part, and they’d lose their lives, throwing Nyarlea into even greater disarray. No, I made a promise to protect this place.

For the first time in years, Cailu swallowed his pride. “To the gates, then.”

The forests surrounding the Nyarlothep capital were thick and vast, spanning for miles around. On multiple occasions, Cailu had suggested that the queen create a sizeable clearing to better see any approaching enemies, but Saoirse’s adamant followers believed that the spirits of deceased catgirls wandered these woods. To cut them down would remove their shelter and offend Saoirse herself.

So, to Cailu’s frustration, the forests stayed.

A group of mid-Level Encroachers had made a nest nearby. Seven four-legged creatures the length of a man covered in deep violet scales patrolled a nearby stream in search of food. Whip-like tails ending in brilliant blue flames moved back and forth as they walked. Canine faces that looked as if they’d been carved from white bone buried their muzzles in the stream, snapping at unsuspecting fish. Blue and pink tendrils flared from the base of their throats, assumedly marking the males from the females.

“Those will do,” Cailu said, pointing to the herd. “Your ability to fight is just as important as your healing prowess.”

Kirti eyed the Encorachers, a sardonic smile twisting the corners of her lips. “Are you sure? We could find a Defiled to fight instead.”

“This is sufficient,” Naeemah added, crossing her arms and bearing down on Kirti with an icy stare. “Your test has begun.”

“As you wish,” Kirti replied, still shuffling the stones in her palm. She sauntered forward without a second glance at those she left behind. “[Shatter Soul]!”

The smooth green stone between her thumb and forefinger shattered, and the tiny shards fell to the grass around her. From each of the broken pieces rose a ghostly image of a skull, surrounded with glittering black mist. Chaotic cackles pierced the forest as the skulls launched forward, striking the unsuspecting beasts in the sides.

Fearful howls joined the skull’s laughter. Cailu murmured a prayer beneath his breath before the warm, familiar presence of healing magic slid down his spine. Both he and Naeemah were at full [Health Points], but that wouldn’t prevent the same sensation from occurring. He and Naeemah exchanged a quick glance and then turned back to the fight at hand.

The Encroachers scrambled from the stream, leaping and bounding to escape from one another and put distance between themselves and Kirti as quickly as possible.

“[Hand of Regret]!” Kirti cried, casting one open palm toward the beasts.

Blood-red briars of thorns shot from the ground, piercing all seven monsters straight through. Sanguine trails of gore littered the stream, dying the clear water red as it ran further along the forest. Yelps and whimpers of bestial pain penetrated the trees, sending flocks of birds flying from their branches.

Kirti reached into one of her many packs and pulled free another glimmering red stone. “[Haunt Vessel],” she muttered, making her way to the nearest Encroacher. Holding the rock between her forefinger and thumb as if she were looking through its center, she hissed her final spell, “[Soul Trap].”

A spectral outline of the creature was torn from its unmoving body, barking and howling with desperation. It vanished in the blink of an eye, and the stone shimmered with its newly absorbed life. The other six Encroachers stilled; their battered and beaten bodies succumbed to Kirti’s magic.

She turned to Cailu and gestured to the stones in her palm. “I can use one to heal you both if you require it?”

“No. That won’t be necessary,” Cailu said. A cold sweat drenched the skin beneath his armor. Kirti was efficient, dangerous, and terrifying. She was a gamble he was willing to make. “Allow me to extend you a formal welcome to my Party, Kirti.”