They made it out of Acrise? Madeleine sounded nauseated. Does that mean Brigadier General Grader and the others--

"No way," said Rowan in a hoarse voice, coming to the same realisation.

"What's that supposed to mean, Woodbead?" said Relish, her tone sharp. The rise in volume made the creature flinch and it sprung towards Southwark, who stood the closest. Ashworth's arm moved so quickly Seiren didn't even see her draw back. With a thud, her throwing knife shot forward and embedded in the creature's forehead directly in the centre. Its eyes rolled.

"What the hell are these things?" Ashworth snarled.

"Modified humans. Their minds have been stripped away in return for potent regenerative powers." On cue, the stricken creature lifted its head and tugged the knife out. Blood oozed out of the cut before it stitched back together. With a hiss, Halen Ashworth clapped her hands. The rune wrapped around the handle of the throwing knife glowed red and exploded, shredding through the torso of the creature and separating its shoulder and head from its hips and legs. It landed in the snow with a splat. Before the rebels' horrified eyes, the creature flailed, sinews growing from the severed head and reformed what was destroyed. "Hitting vitals won't do a thing. You need to shred them to kill the magic."

"What sort of sick bastard created these things?!" Ashworth said, clutching a handful of knives.

Even Southwark seemed alarmed, a crease between his thick, greying eyebrows. Rowan clapped his hands. A breeze swept through the buildings, blowing the flames out and fanning the smoke away. Seiren's breath caught in her throat. Half-devoured bodies littered the ground, weapons in their bloodied hands. The villagers tried to put up a fight against these creatures from hell, but they stood no chance. Men and woman, old and young, lay motionless on the ground, the light gone from their eyes.

"Halen: scout the houses. See if there are any survivors. Seiren: go with her. You can both do green runes, right?" said Southwark.

Seiren bit her lip and nodded, grudgingly.

"We'll round up the rest of these things and finish them."

Ashworth nodded and ran off, her dark blonde ponytail swinging in her wake. Seiren followed close behind. One of the creatures leapt at her from a nearby fallen house. With a snap of her fingers, Tesla Relish brought up a whirlwind of sand from the ground and caught it in mid-air. She turned her palm to the sky and drew her fingers in. The sandstorm spun and closed in. The creature squawked, eyes bulging, before it vanished behind the brown grains. The wind whistled. The whirlwind contracted and was suddenly stained crimson.

"Go!" Relish barked. The air was stifling despite Rowan having dissipated most of the smoke. Seiren's stomach churned with nausea; bile soured her mouth. Death. This was the smell of death. The memories of that night threatened to overwhelm her again.

To your right! Madeleine shouted.

Seiren whipped round, fumbling for her runes. The sound had escaped her notice, but Ashworth was ready. Two knives whizzed by Seiren's face and embedded in a creature rearing to attack through the door opening, one piercing its face and another its drawn-back clawed hand. Ashworth clapped her hands. The blue rune in the blade in the creature's wrist activated and a crackle of electricity hit the air. The creature wheezed, its body seizing up in spasms and it collapsed backwards. A second clap activated the red rune in the knife at its head and it exploded, shearing the body, the contents showering in one spectacular flare against the wall.

Seiren straightened up, breathless. She picked her way through the door and past the corpse. Against the far wall were two figures in pools of blood. It was a mother and her son. The son was no more than five years old, wrapped in cold winter gear, the fur lining of his hood stained dark red. The mother lay curled around him as if attempting to shield him. Blood congealed in her brown curls. Her skin was ice cold and ivory white.

Seiren leant against the wall heavily, the air sucked out of her chest.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Ashworth strode forward and placed two fingers at their necks. After five seconds, she straightened up and stalked ahead, ignoring Seiren. Seiren touched her spinning head and calmed the whirlwind of emotions. This was no time to be sabotaged by past memories. She had a task.

The village was small; it must have only about a hundred people living there. They put up a good fight. A fair few monsters were actually destroyed -- likely by pure luck. Seiren clutched the chalk and a mix of slates and papers in her hands. A scuffle from the corner; a creature raised its head, detecting her presence. She didn't hesitate. She threw the flat slate she'd picked up and snapped her fingers. The modified red-violet rune glowed, its locking circles empty, and exploded at full power. On contact with the creature's skin, it exploded a second time, shearing through the body. Bite-size remnants hit the floor in a flurry.

For the next hour, Seiren only confirmed her suspicions: none of the villagers survived. In every house there lay its dead previous occupants in various positions of resignation or resistance. Ashworth made no comment on Seiren's wobble at the start of their task and met her at the opposite end of the village.

"All gone, huh?" she said. Seiren nodded, silent. "At least they put up a fight. Their lives had a purpose."

For some reason, Seiren had a feeling Ashworth wasn't really talking about the villagers' lives. Her metallic blue eyes narrowed at the smoking buildings now devoid of life, and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Let's head back to Bellamy. We need to keep moving. We've pandered to his heroics already."

"Can you teach me blue runes?" Seiren blurted out. Ashworth turned around, one eyebrow raised, spinning a knife in her hand.

"Why should I?"

"I want to learn."

Ashworth studied her. Seiren matched her gaze with resolution. This was her chance to improve. Halen Ashworth's knife-throwing and speed of rune-sketching made her a formidable foe in battle despite -- or rather, especially -- being a rune mage, one Seiren aspired towards, particularly in the battles to come.

"Please."

There was a long pause. Seiren's eyes watered but she was determined not to blink. With another sigh, Ashworth turned around without a word and marched off. She didn't say a single word on the way back.

Southwark turned when their footsteps reached his ears. His shoulders sagged when he realised Seiren and Ashworth were alone.

"I told you, Bellamy," said Tesla Relish. Surrounding her for a fifty-foot radius were the incinerated strips of flesh that used to be the modified creatures Seiren had created. Relish winced as the wind irritated her burnt face again. "We're too late. These things are deadly."

Something struck Seiren. These people didn't need to have died in vain.

"Here, let me."

Relish withdrew when Seiren reached out. Biting her lip, Seiren stepped forward, arms still outstretched.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You hurt your face. I can help."

Relish narrowed her eyes, but it was obvious even that hurt. The prominences of her nose and cheeks were pink and a few blisters rose already, obscuring her freckles. Seiren gently placed her hands on either cheek and eased her breath. It was much easier nowadays to feel the flow of one's inner energy, and her hands soon glowed white, bathing Relish's injuries. When Seiren let go after a few minutes, the burns were gone.

"What magic is that?" said Ashworth in a sharp voice. Seiren stepped back, not saying a word but feeling drained. She couldn't tell her about chaos magic. It was Loren's, alone, and even Seiren had no idea how Loren could have created such powerful magic.

You don't want to have this readily available, not when the price is you exhaust your magic completely so rapidly, whispered Madeleine.

"It's not rune, nor burst nor flash, and you're damn lucky it's not organic again. So tell me, Seiren Nithercott, what magic is that?"

"It doesn't matter," Seiren muttered. "It worked, didn't it?"

Relish touched her cheeks, her brown eyes wide. "It's healed. It's all healed!"

Bellamy Southwark gave Seiren a look, his brows furrowed.

He was Loren's tutor, didn't he say? I have a feeling he knows.

Well, looks like he's going to bust my ass right here and now...

To Seiren's surprise, Southwark made no comment on her chaos magic. Ashworth gave Seiren a severe look, but also dropped it after a glance at Southwark. The air was tense as the five of them walked back to the cart. Butterworth still lay there, dead to the world. Relish gave him a scathing look as she climbed up.

"Wish we could feed him to one of those things," said Relish. It seemed the shock of fighting Seiren's creations had opened her stolid side.

"Nithercott." Southwark's commanding tone made Seiren's heart skipped a beat. She braced herself for a verbal beating. "Tell me: why do you know so much about those things? What are they? Why are they there?"

"It's not the best time for this--"

"I asked Nithercott, not you, Woodbead."

Rowan's mouth snapped shut and he pressed his lips together tightly. Seiren glanced at him, but she knew he was outpowered. Both Relish and Ashworth shared the same grave look as Southwark. She didn't stand a chance at lying -- they would see through that at once. So she told the truth. Southwark's brow knitted closer and closer together until they became almost one line as Seiren spoke about the grant the Council gave her to look into healing and regenerative runes and her subsequent half-success. She didn't mention Madeleine; the last thing she needed was for them to view her as some sort of twisted, scarred little girl hell-bent on pushing the limits of life. She didn't want them to see her as another Professor Fernard.

"After Ashworth tried to kill me, I abandoned my research at Bicknor. The papers were all confiscated by the Council. I haven't seen my research since."

"Why?" said Ashworth, her eyes intense.

"Why what?"

"Why did you stop doing that kind of research?"

She's trying to pick a hole in your story, whispered Madeleine.

"Is it that unbelievable that my perspectives changed after almost being killed?" Seiren said tartly. Ashworth had the grace to look somewhat apologetic -- or at least, the suspicious look on her face disappeared. "I didn't want to stay in Bicknor any more. The Council gave me another mission. I took it. The last time I saw the results of my modified green runes, they were able to recover from most injuries, but they didn't attack, let alone in this uniform way. They also weren't able to regenerate major body parts. Someone else had taken what I started and developed this further."

"Someone from the Council of Mages, it seems," said Southwark in a grim voice. "And then released it into their own city."

"How the mighty have fallen," said Ashworth bitterly.

"Butterworth asked the mages to annihilate Acrise," Rowan said with a grimace. "I wouldn't put it past him to have these creatures as a contingency plan if the mages didn't obey."

"The mages wouldn't obey? I wouldn't count on that," said Ashworth with a tinkering laugh. "Tahir Portendorfer, for example, would love nothing more than to bathe in the blood of people. Same with Maura Woodbead. I'm sure of that you're only too aware, Woodbead."

"But you two are alive," said Southwark, pulling to a stop. He turned around and studied Seiren with his serious dark eyes and an impassive expression. "I can't help but wonder if that's just a lucky coincidence."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Seiren said, her mouth dry.

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