“Verdan, slow down!” Pawel shouted, trying to keep Verdan back. “They could still be nearby!”

“They need help!” Verdan turned on Pawel with a murderous expression, but the mercenary didn’t let go, instead continuing in a quieter tone.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. These guys are dangerous. Let us secure the area so that we can help them properly,”

Ruan was back outside now, though thankfully, Verdan saw no sign of Natalia joining him. Still half-dressed, Ruan was taking charge of the situation and was sending people out in pairs to secure the estate.

Looking around to take in everyone’s health, Verdan was relieved to see that

Tom was seemingly uninjured by his collision with the Sorcerer’s attack and was heading Verdan’s way with the two Fwyn in tow.

Tim, Sylvie and the Airta had arrived as well, the newcomers following Sylvie’s lead and doing what Ruan instructed.

It was all of a few moments to get everyone organised, but Verdan felt each one weigh down on him as he was prevented from helping his people.

Blane, Zhalia and Tim worked together to ensure the area outside the gates was secure, allowing Verdan to rush forward and take stock of what had happened.

Barb was lying on the ground, clutching her left arm, which was a disturbing ashen colour from the fingers up to her forearm, the worst of the colour.

Blood was pooling underneath her from several stab wounds, but it was only the one on her left hand that was causing the surrounding flesh to die.

“Iacha nercreth,” Verdan said, pouring Aether into her as he knelt by Barb’s side, focusing on containing the foreign Essence that was in her.

This close, Verdan could finally understand what he was dealing with. The Sorcerer seemed to use a form of decay as their aspect, a dangerous Essence indeed.

The decay within Barb was actively breaking down Verdan’s Aether. It was almost as hard to contain as Cyth corruption, though, in some ways, it was nastier. Corruption tried to change you; decay just wanted to kill you.

Verdan could contain the decay, or he could heal her wounds, not both.

“Lord of Nature, bless her with swift healing, that she may fight again,” Zhalia whispered, kneeling down next to Verdan as she clutched her longbow.

The bow brightened slightly, taking on a slightly golden tone as Exeon flowed out from it and into Barb, working to heal her wounds directly.

Satisfied that they were being dealt with, Verdan turned to the decay in her arm, spending Aether without hesitation as he purged it clear.

The ashen colour had gone from much of Barb’s arm, though she had passed out in the process. Her hand, however, was beyond saving. The flesh was dead, the bone crumbled, and every bit of vitality sucked clean.

“We have to remove it,” Verdan said heavily, regarding the hand with a burning mix of shame and rage. This was on him; he was responsible for this.

“I will do it; the cut needs to be clean,” Blane said, joining them around the unconscious Barb, one of his blades at the ready as he looked at Verdan. “Mark the spot.”

“Here,” Verdan said, the word tumbling from his lips with a weight that seemed to settle straight onto his heart.

The moment Verdan moved away from the spot he’d indicated, Blane cut down, his blade thunking into the paved stones below as he cleaved straight through Barb’s wrist.

Zhalia muttered a prayer and healed the fresh wound, examining it as she did before nodding to Verdan. “I believe that was all of it. She should make a full recovery.”

“Ruan, Tim,” Verdan called out, the two men hurrying over to him with worried expressions. “Take her inside and ask Natalia to watch her. She’s the closest we have to a doctor at the moment.”

“Got it, Boss,” Ruan rasped as the two of them gently lifted Barb up and carried her off.

With Barb seen to, Verdan approached the other figure with a heavy heart.

They’d attended to Barb first because she’d clearly been alive if heavily wounded. Declan, however, was long gone.

The bastards had slit his throat and left a dagger in his chest, the ashen skin around it telling Verdan who had been responsible.

Declan had been the youngest of Verdan’s guards, the least world-weary, happy to be the butt of the joke and positive to a fault. To see him like this was a travesty that dragged so many old emotions to the front. Old grief mixing freely with the new.

“Blane,” Verdan said eventually, his eyes not leaving Declan’s corpse.

“Yes,” Blane said from Verdan’s side, an undercurrent of something in his voice that spoke to the rage in Verdan’s heart.

“I need you to find them for me. Run them down and find where they’re holed up. I don’t care how long it takes,” Verdan said, each word giving purpose to his anger. “One way or another, they die tonight.”

“Their scent is fresh; two of them are bleeding. They are running fast, but we are faster. You’ll get your blood.” Blane inhaled deeply as he spoke, his features looking more feral by the moment as he slowly straightened. “Sylvie!”

“Brother?” Sylvie asked as she came jogging over to them, her expression shifting as she saw Declan’s body on the ground. “The cowardly scum, they’ll pay for this.”

“Do you have enough Parada to lead the Pack?”

“The Pack?” Sylvie repeated in surprise, turning to Verdan with a questioning look. “We’ve kept from using our forms too much in the city to keep the peace. Are you sure you want this?”

“I want them dead,” Verdan said, his voice thick with restrained emotion.

“I am still recovering; I don’t have enough to lead a Pack….”

“But I do,” Delia said, interrupting Sylvie as she joined them, her two followers at her back. “Let me lead; I owe you for the trouble earlier. Sylvie can follow our trail with you and the others.”

Oddly, the question was directed to Verdan rather than the other Airta, so he gave a terse nod, not trusting his voice right now.

A tense energy seemed to fill the air as soon as he assented, Delia gaining a sort of presence to her as the other Airta focused on her.

“Frakti, hear my words. Nos vanatull. We hunt!” Delia declared, her words making the air thrum with Parada as she and the other Airta shifted forms, only Sylvie staying in her human shape.

A chorus of menacing growls filled the air from the five oversized wolves that now stood at the entrance to the estate. Blane was the largest, but Delia and Zhalia weren’t far behind, with the two other men being closer to a normal wolf in size.

Verdan watched them disappear off into the dimly lit evening with satisfaction. It was time he taught the Weeping Death a lesson. Consequences be damned.

Verdan wasted no time in gathering his own hunting party together. Dru, Tom, Tim and Sylvie would be enough for what he needed.

Everyone else would be staying at the estate to keep it secure. The only magic user was Aeva, but the Fwyn was quite powerful and was the best defensive caster they had.

It turned out that Tom was actually working closely with the Fwyn; the stone armour he’d worn had been Aeva’s construction, and the energy around his mace had been from Dru.

“Everyone ready?” Verdan asked, looking over the assorted group as they assembled outside the estate.

“Ready to go, Boss,” Tim said with a hard expression.

“Disir,” Verdan conjured a light for them to see by as they set off, his eyes lingering on Ruan and Pawel as they carried Declan’s body inside.

“This way,” Sylvie said, taking the lead as they came to the first turning.

Verdan could sense a hint of lingering Parada in the air, but not to such a degree that he could navigate by it. In happier circumstances, he’d be fascinated by the Airta and what they were doing. Right now, though, his mind shied away from such thoughts.

Sylvie guided them deeper into the city, moving more toward the centre than either of the gates. The other Airta had left no obvious tracks, but Verdan trusted her to know where she was going.

Still, he was somewhat surprised. He’d expected the Weeping Death to have a small outpost outside of the city, one from which they could conduct a raid like this. Instead, it felt almost like they were based inside the city.

Verdan withheld judgement for the moment, but it made a certain amount of sense if they did. No doubt they would have an agent on the inside as well, and Verdan had a few suspicions in that regard. Suspicions that were only bolstered by the guard uniforms the attackers wore.

Verdan wrestled his mind back under control with difficulty; he couldn’t afford to lose himself in flights of vengeful fantasy while two dangerous Sorcerers were loose in the city.

Sylvie continued to lead them toward the centre of the city, giving Verdan time to calm down a little and consider everything in a more logical manner.

“Damn it,” Verdan cursed, his eyes going wide as he realised one of the implications of all this. Kai and the witches were late returning. “Neges dyn.”

It was more Aether than he wanted to use right now, but Verdan needed to know if the others were safe. He kept the message simple, informing Kai that they had been attacked and asking him what their situation was.

The message itself was almost instantaneous, so Verdan got an answer a minute later, though, like with Valmira, Kai was only able to send feelings and some rough concepts back.

Verdan interpreted what Kai sent as concern for Verdan and the others, with a sense of ongoing caution mixed with satisfaction for Verdan’s query about their own delay.

From what he knew of Kai, Verdan was fairly confident that the Weeping Death had attacked Kai and the Witches, with likely disastrous results for their enemy.

Verdan doubted the Weeping Death was giving the Witches the respect they deserved, which was all the better for their usefulness in defending the city in the long run.

A distant howl was carried to them on the wind, Sylvie listening carefully before turning to nod to Verdan. “They’ve found them.”

There was no way that howl was from outside the city. Verdan knew this was damning proof that there were traitors within the city, and part of him considered waiting for the guard to assemble, but he couldn’t do it.

Even a small chance of Declan’s killers getting away was unacceptable.