One, two, three...

Celina barged out of the tunnel cutting through the seal. Thousands of beasts bellowed in the thunderous blast.,the entire territory erupting to life. Each one of them jumping over the other, making grunting and snuffling sounds with terrible hunger and impatience. A string of Formation she articulated in her mind, sliced the beasts up. Acid came pouring down, and the instant tornado coming on the wake of a giant twister repelled the slimy liquid out of her path and overturned the beasts away. A few sprinkles falling on her exposed skin tried to hold her back, but she kept pushing herself ahead, letting the breath out in ragged gasps.

The tornado twisting around her, with a rapid speed and more bounding motion, supported her to run faster, to heave off the rocks faster. During the last day of the Fest, the weather seemed to be a pretense for a snowfall, her own gale of wind felt quite chilly. Amidst the tempest the loom of the lighthouse appeared lackluster with the rise of the sun from behind it. She was almost there, the entrance concealed behind the seal was only a few feet away. She huffed and puffed, and with a heavy grunt, she dashed through the entrance.

She did not sweat for the details, but it was decipherable that the beast crashed against the seal letting out a wail of disappointment. Without looking back, she took a few moments to steady her jittery thoughts. Intaking long breaths helped her not to succumb to the nervous agitation plaguing in her heart. She dabbed her jacket, the parts of the Pride were indeed safely stuffed in the pocket. Having herself ready for another trial, she started up the stairs.

My Formation isn't going to work, she kept iterating in her mind. Combat was the only way left to attack. To snatch the Blade first was the idea and it had to be done meticulously. A few hours left for the Spine and Handle to return to their respective owners. With the varying degree of stress, she focussed on keeping her mind on high alert.

The chamber was silent, unlike last evening. She scanned through the lumber and piles of organs speedily. No Almourah. Right on! Now was her chance. With a kick, she ran inside. Finding a suitable location, she fell on her knee and rummaged through the lumber, her eyes darting around more widely with each passing second. The air reeked with the smell coming from the dead bodies. Creasing her brow, she created an instant aura around her. The caskets were being another obstacle. Using her explosive gust of wind, she tossed them against the wall. They made heavy cracking sounds but never broke or splintered.

She threw a fist in the air with frustration and stood up facing the window of the chamber. Her arm muscles strained with the effort she put on them. A few of the blisters popped and she cringed getting a leaking sensation. In the heavy silence, she thought of something to make herself feel less guilty for not being able to find the possession. Time was running out. Where else could the Blade be?

Then, an abnormally loud scraping sound echoed throughout the chamber. Celina looked down in horror and nearly gasped. The Blade, out of nowhere, came into the picture. It was being pushed towards her and rested at the spot near her feet. A tall black shadow fell upon her, seemingly daring her to pick it up. There was a low grunt and hard breathing. Her nerves tensed. He was here. She waited for a moment or two for him to make a move. But in the absolute stillness, when nothing happened, she took the chance and jerked to hunker down.

In the process, his monstrous hand caught hold of her sleeve. She screamed when his nails dug into her arm. Her head fiercely crashed against the wall, and she felt a pulsing throb as though the beginning of a migraine.

The silence fell back in the chamber until the cold, clammy hand pressed against her neck. He lifted her off the frozen ground. She choked before tilting her head, not wanting to commit to that feeling, the abnormalities that came with the stone. Once her eyes met his, she dared not to look away from those large bulbous eyes. Celina wondered if she was frozen.

Almourah's lips parted, and a foul smell filled the gap between them. "Another chance. Leave. And come with him," he said, and leaned further, without breaking the stare. "Him, is what I need. Haima promised. Come back, we kill him together and I leave the women of the country alone."

She choked, feeling suffocated to death. There was a  sudden terrible sensation washing over her mind, like a burst of cloud, cloaking her sense of morality. She got herself into a hopeless muddle, neither wanting to accept nor deny. In her fuzzy state, recognizing who the 'him' was out of bounds. But the name Haima burned her insides, provoking a strong reaction.

Challenging his stare, she balled an intimidating fist as tight as she could and with full force punched him square in the face.

Crack!

Thanks a million that the month of the Fest wasn't over yet.

Almourah's face, a ghastly shade of pale white, snapped aside and the grip against her neck loosened. Her mind switched back to being normal. Her knuckles stung with the hard blow she had given. The touch of his skin felt so icy and rock-like. It gave rise to an assumption if his body was coated with something unusual. However, a visible crack beginning to appear across his jaw was the delight of the day.

"Pacts are out of fashion, dork," she voiced, daringly, "Try evolving if not...why not, simply quit the world?"

When Almourah remained unresponsive, Celina averted her focus back to the Blade that was lying timidly down on the floor. She struggled a bit to get off from his clasp. The wind whooshed around the chamber, although not even a strand of his long hair ruffled. He looked back at her, but she did not let go of her concentration. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, trying to use a Formation in a hope that the piece of dagger flew up into her hand.

"Trying too hard," Almourah said, voice like a rasping crow. "Useless, it is. Mother!"

The word gave her the pain of pins and needles. Her concentration broke. Her heart stung. She was in a terrible mess, suddenly not remembering why she had come in the first place. Something felt so wrong, so invalid. She shouldn't be doing this. She tried to pinpoint the cause of this but failed. Her mind suddenly had gone numb except that she wanted to leave the place, and let him live for many more years.

Her stone burned, and she shook her head coming out of the state. She remembered Doctor's warning asking her to never give room to such unrealistic thoughts that weren't even hers. Even before she could think straight, she caught Almourah's eyes back, that now carried an expression of a puppy dog as if asking for mercy, although his words were quite in contrast.

"Go, and come back with the one using Cornelian!"

And she woke up in the thorough darkness of the tunnel, triggered by the sense of failure and inferiority complex. She had no idea how long it had been since Almourah threw her out of the lighthouse, the abundance of Formation she had used to save herself from hitting the rock-filled ground and to escape the attack of the beasts. She hissed feeling a prick of burns in her hands, her jeans torn with holes at both sides of her knees. She later remembered, being in a terrible state of unconsciousness she had fallen asleep for a long time.

Her mind suddenly pressurized her to return to Dakshinpur and have a straightforward talk with the one using Cornelian. There was more to it,  she wanted to fight him until he accepted, if not ...kill him.

A shriek escaped her mouth, when she fought the desire. Eyes moistened. Why would she even want to do that? Why would she want to put her friend in trouble? She hugged herself, feeling miserable and lonely. Whilst doing so, something stuck her. Shivering in obvious anguish she searched for the parts of the Pride. She couldn't find them. Certainly, they were gone.

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A splash of cold water on her face made her expel a sharp breath. There was a relaxing, hypnotic quality around her, the sound of the running water of the stream playing a major role. After a day-long sneaky gruntwork, savoring the prospect of surroundings seemed worthwhile. In the powerful rays of the sun during the month of May, the thin layers of snow glittered and the subtle chilliness seemed comforting in its own way. The distinctive chirping of the birds, the buzzing hum of insects-in the vast, thick and dense, whitewashed Sherwood Forest, the serenity seemed better than the villages outside. She didn't fall for it, though. This peaceful existence was temporary.

Then a loud gunshot pierced through the silence, followed by the bellow of the beasts. The forest shook up with fear. Horsey neighed, a flock of birds flew away screeching. She was the only one not to be surprised. Such commotions had become an everyday thing in the forest since she broke the news to Pruthvi.  She smiled. Thanks, buddy.

A desperate search and rescue mission for Tyrell seemed to be in full effect. Muskets, rifles and other ammunition being in use round the clock. The knights of Dakshinpur and Paschimgarh roaming in and around the forest was a bit problematic, only if she wasn't deft enough to sneak away.

The gunshots went for a while and went off as quickly as it had started. Shaking her head, she got back to cleaning the stains off her hands. She unzipped her jacket and let her burns sooth down in the coolness. Months had passed by, but the stinging pain was still there.  Once smooth honey-colored skin had now turned blotchy, and she tried not to be bothered by it.

The moment she thought the day was unproductive like the past two months had been, amidst all the ripples circling from each stroke,  a dark shadow of a woman - tall and thin - emerged staring at her through the water.

She quickly got to her feet and turned around. "Who's there?" She demanded. There was no reply but she did capture the woman standing far away than the shadow had indicated, the lower part of the face camouflaged with a pale pink cloth, feet shuffling as if in a hurry to getaway.

In her jeans and red tunic top beneath that fleece jacket, the woman seemingly about her age looked extremely frail and vulnerable. "Wh...who are you?" Celina asked politely, doubting if the woman needed help. "Are you lost?"

The reaction was rather instant but without words. The woman turned around and began getting lost deep into the woods.

"Hey! Wait!" Celina shouted, "Not that way!"

It wasn't necessary to take an interest in some unknown person and risk making errors. However, being a Samagraha, a stubborn impulse arose wanting to know who she was and why in the world was she running in the wrong direction. She would stumble across the proceeding turmoil occurring between knights and beasts. She had heard the gunshots firing from that way. Never before she had seen a young woman freely penetrating around in the forest which was famously known as Shashi's lair.

Celina bit her lip. She found herself to be indecisive at first but eventually gave in to her instincts. Oh crap!

Leaving Horsey behind, she followed the woman running further and further inside. The ankle-deep snow posed a slight difficulty, but she was able to cope with the speed and distance. Being vigilant enough of the woman darting from tree to tree, Celina felt lured and she simply veered into her path.

The bellowing sounds of the beasts made her frown. The woman seemed unthreatened and continued to run through the harsh branches without worrying about getting scraped. The shrouds of the thick trees finally ended, and a large flat plain covered with elephant grass came in the picture. A flutter of fear rose in her stomach when she gradually lost the sight of the woman. However, something else grabbed her attention. Amidst all the grass, flashes of lightning illuminated the surrounding. There seemed like a fight happening. Her nerves jangled. She knew that lightning.

With the hope of a fortunate chance, she decided to go across the snowy grass, forgetting all about the woman. This was the area she had rarely been to. There were no tunnels or caves to pay attention to or waste time. She blindly believed in the man who specifically had told her about the existence of the basements only where the tunnels were present. Once getting deeper, the grass didn't seem as dense as it had been from outside, and she quickly grasped the dangers of the situation.

It wasn't only the beasts being aggressive in the fight but the few humans covered in black cloaks and loincloths were charging against a single person massacring them with his Formation.

Frizzy long hair, dark skin, short stubble, baggy pants and a torn sweater. Heaviness in her heart was too much to handle and she burst out yelling the name aloud.

"Tyrell!"