Azrael ran through the trees, her footfalls light as a feather. No obstacle could bar her path in this place. She leaped over root and stone. The wind whistled past her ears, even as she became more aware of her heartbeat. It thundered with each turn, each sound louder and more acute than the last. Her Aspect of the Warden clued her in to every detail of her surroundings. Even then— even without the focus she had chosen during her Rite of Awakening, she knew she had the agility to completely lose her pursuers.

She darted beneath a low hanging branch, grasping it and pulling herself up in one swift motion. There was a snap nearby as another branch broke. She whipped her head around in time to spot a human step out of a bush, a bow held in his hands, his eyes scanning the foliage between them. The dark concealed her, thankfully. Azrael would not stay hidden. One of her pursuers definitely knew magic. She gripped the handle of her sword, her eyes narrowing. Out here in the wilds, she could kill the bowman quickly and be done with it; perhaps that would even deter the rest of the humans.

She shook her head. The king had given her explicit orders to prevent an incident by whatever means necessary. Even if the humans had been the ones to instigate this, instead, she whispered a spell beneath her breath, uttering a short incantation.

“Carry my voice, o wind— flutter away and distort me,” She murmured, as magic swelled within her chest like a breaching wave. She turned in the direction she had come from, cupping her mouth with one hand and speaking loudly.

“I say again! I am a messenger sent by his Majesty King Thrake of the Azar! I have no quarrel with you! Please, allow me to deliver my message to your ruler and I will be gone from your lands!” Instead of from her own throat, her words were carried out from the spot she had chosen, drawing the man’s attention away from the tree she had been perched on. He rallied, drawing an arrow from his quiver and making toward the spot with a cautious gait.

“We've been told enough about your ‘message’… We don't want any of your so-called peace!” He shouted back, keeping his footfalls quiet as he moved in a semicircle around her false hiding place.

Azrael scowled, her pointed teeth showing beneath pale lips. Damn. She'd met plenty of humans who had enough patience to sit and talk out in the wastes. How did the other members of their species get like this? Was it isolation? The King of the Azar had charged her with returning with all due haste and to avoid bloodshed at all costs. She'd agreed to his terms and was bound to them. Sighing, she ran her fingers through the mess of white hair hanging from her head and over her long, pointed ears. She had no choice but to keep running.

“Like the wind, swift-footed,” She muttered. With a sudden surge of wind and air, she rocketed from her branch and through the next group of trees. There was a shout behind her somewhere as the man realized his mistake too late. An arrow raced past her ear and struck a nearby tree harmlessly. She kept moving, letting the adrenaline from the close shave push her further.

She imagined Argus chastising her for not killing them anyway. The rough-necked western Azar had been a follower of Thrake since the very beginning. He had spent much of his own spare time teaching Azrael the way of the sword, and to see her running when she could be standing her ground... she shuddered at the thought. She wanted to sigh. If she was as strong or as important as any one of The Four, then perhaps none of this would have happened.

The chase continued for nearly two hours as she crossed the Balthin Green Sea, the massive open reach of trees and woodlands that separated the easterly human kingdom of Katal from wild regions to the north and west. Other kingdoms and species made their homes to the south and otherwise further past the human realm, but they mattered little in the young Azar’s mind. Her only thought was returning home to Osan, wildland, the home of her kin. It would be over a week's travel by foot to even get close to the wildlands and another week before she made it to the city proper.

That was a long time to be chased. She needed a place to hide.

As she moved, she kept a close eye out for rising terrain and stone— hints of caverns or caves. As long as she was out in the open, their mage could track her using even the simplest of their magic. Put a few feet of stone between her and the damnable mage and she'd have a chance at some quiet. If she could get at least a little bit of rest, she could create a significant distance between them. She’d burned through so much mana in the past few hours that she was honestly shocked she hadn’t blacked out already.

Her thoughts were broken when she spotted a sudden incline off to her left. Bits and pieces of exposed stone peeked out from beneath the undergrowth. She turned in that direction, willing her aching legs to keep the pace up. She knew they weren’t far behind and she needed to deter them as best she could. Digging deep, she drew on her magic and uttered the last spell she could cast until she rested. Even as the words left her mouth, a sudden spell of wooziness washed over her as the last of her reserves were depleted.

“A falsehood, a whisper, a doe to be chased, dart away, wind and sound,” She urged, flicking her hand in the opposite direction of her movement.

From her hand, wind erupted and took shape; leaves and twigs formed a wooden frame that looked remarkably similar to her own lithe body. It leaped onto a tree and leaped again, making as much sound as it could while it fled somewhere behind her. It wouldn’t last long and if she didn’t find a cavern to hide in, the mage was going to get her pursuers back on track in no time. She grit her teeth and pushed herself to race toward the rock formations, praying to the Wind and Rain that she would find somewhere safe.

Light began to breach the trees ahead of her and her stomach tightened. This was it. She broke through the foliage, and for the first time in a long time, ran into the open air. Ahead of her, she spotted a small cavern tucked into a pile of old stonework and rubble that lay pinned against a low hilly rise. Few trees grew in the open area around it, which normally would have deterred her from approaching, but at this point, it was this or kill the humans. She hurried toward the opening and darted inside.

The mouth of the cavern was about what she'd expected— craggy stone opened up around a dreary and dry path that lead further into humid darkness. Moss was thick on the walls around the cave entrance, dwindling into hard stone. She paused. Odd square tiles on the ground began to form the further in she went. Without an immediate source of light, and her magic expended, she was forced to draw a flame-stick from her pouch and crack it open. The alchemical reaction hissed, erupting into a bright light that illuminated the passage. The hissing partially subsided, but wouldn’t quiet completely until the light went out.

It was a risky move while she was trying to hide, but she had no other choice.

After moving further into the cave, Azrael stopped to catch her breath. She leaned, huffing against a damp rock wall. She let out a frustrated groan; if it hadn’t been for her orders she would have made short work of the asinine hunting party that had pursued her. None of them appeared to have any true aspect powers, or they would have been more of a threat— even the mage had only seemed to be using traditional magic. They were likely local militiamen, and not associated with their respective human kingdom— at least she hoped not. Perhaps with a bigger retinue, she could deliver the message her liege had intended.

Though she’d rather someone else do it; she was sick to death of the human lands and she hadn’t even delivered the message.

Sighing, she decided to focus on her surroundings. She crouched down to inspect the tile again now that she was far enough inside the cavern that the mage’s tracking spell likely wouldn’t work. Holding the light over the floor, she noted that it seemed to be some kind of worn marble. Wiping away the dirt and debris, she revealed its’ true colors. Gold veins ran through the jet black marble. Not something she’d expect far and away from any sort of civilization.

She looked up and deeper into the cave. The stonework continued along the path ahead of her.

That was when she heard a shout behind her; she turned toward the entrance. More shouting. She cursed colorfully, turning back towards the depths of the cavern. Her distraction hadn’t worked long enough to lose them. She needed space— somewhere to hide inside. The tracking spell could only give a general location; if the cave had multiple paths, maybe she could slip away. Her legs screamed in protest from the effort of running again. She darted along the marble path as the sounds of rushed footsteps followed her into the cavern.

Suddenly, the whole cave began to shake. Something huge within the depths of the dark began grinding. Somewhere in the distance, she could feel the wind shifting. It felt as if the cavern were coming alive. Azrael realized— a passage had opened that she couldn’t immediately see. Confused and fearful shouts echoed behind her. The path back was blocked. All she could do was head forward and into whatever dangers had awakened upon her encroachment.

Whatever they were, she’d face them.