Banshee watched Adande's eyes follow Grief as the dagger slowly slid out of its sheath.

"Banshee," he said, his back pressed to the wall, his hands up. "Banshee I did not do this. You know I didn't, I--"

She shut him up by pressing the flat of Grief's blade into his throat. The movement wasn't fast, but it was careful. Precise. Inevitable--and Adande could only squeeze those gemstone eyes of his shut as the cold metal of her dagger kissed his skin.

"I don't care how you escaped," she said quietly. She didn't recognise the voice of acrid smoke and heated ash that came out of her mouth. It seared her throat and burned her tongue. "I don't care why you are not in your cell on temple grounds." She pressed Grief a little harder, dropped her voice into a low, soft whisper. "But if you lie, I will know."

Banshee held, then released the pressure on Grief, tilting blade so its razor edge was closest to his skin.

Adande pressed his lips tight together for a moment before he spoke. "Four people were already attacking when I saw him. He wants him alive, so I intervened. He was in a lot of pain so I knocked him out, but I didn't hurt him. We were only here for you."

Pain. Yes, she could sense that written all over Jason's body, but it wasn't born from Adande's shadow. It merely mixed in with the other shadows that clung to him. She couldn't tell how many without their owners beside her. They were too numerous. Too scattered. "Who is we?"

"Hello, darling," purred a voice.

Banshee kept Grief against Adande's throat as she whirled around to face Adande's friends.

A Lightblaster was inches from her face.

"One little dagger and my brother sings," cooed a blonde-haired Aya from among the retreating, panicking, screaming crowd. "While it's no surprise, I can't--"

Banshee struck.

An underarm swing pulled Grief from Adande's throat and slammed the dagger's hilt straight into the Lightblaster, causing Aya's shot to go high. Banshee didn't give her a chance for a second one as she followed up with Joy and stabbed the blade straight through the Lightblaster.

The sheer force ripped the Lightblaster from Aya's hand, leaving Banshee with the sparking, sputtering blaster impaled on her dagger.

Aya growled and reached for her waistband. Banshee flung the broken Lightblaster aside and was charging her when she screamed, "Now!"

The air crackled.

Her tattoo went cold.

Manifested.

The Serpent aura consumed the air in an instant, turning it thick in Banshee's lungs. She tried to swallow it down as it choked her, the nausea swelling up her throat and shuddering across her skin. Her skin went clammy. Her daggers felt slippery in her grip, thoughts heavy, mind slow.

It hit her harder than it ever had before, like every other time had simply been a tiny sliver of it. Any other day, any other time, the fog of the Serpent's magic might have been enough to swamp her senses, but today, like the beam of the lighthouse that stood on Velawea's shores, one goal pierced straight through that fog.

Jason.

She didn't know why those nightmares took him from her over and over again, why she was always too slow, too sloppy to save him.

Banshee bared her teeth at Aya.

This was not her nightmare, but she would be theirs.

By now, the crowd was screaming around them. Some for blood, some for help. Banshee had every intent to give them both as she tightened her grip on Grief and slashed the dagger towards Aya, who was halfway to drawing a second Lightblaster.

Surprise flashed through Aya's eyes as she was forced to drop the Lightblaster or lose a hand. Aya retreated a few steps that Banshee followed, kicking the Lightblaster off to the side. She had to take Aya down quickly to deal with the Manifested before it dealt with her. It was close, perhaps among the fleeing crowd. The air still felt like lightning, but a quick glance around couldn't spot it.

But a quick glance did spot something else--innocents--and in a second flash through the fog, the borderline bloodlust lining her thoughts, Banshee realised she had no idea how to disable Aya without driving a dagger through her throat.

Aya wasn't Manifested. Her injuries would remain, and Banshee didn't have time to physically restrain her. Cryo wasn't here to lock her in ice, and--Starlight, how had she forgotten her partner?

Banshee reached for her tattoo and tapped five times, allowing a few seconds to pass for a reply.

Nothing but silence echoed back.

Aya's smile cracked into a savage grin. Her arms were ready, her feet slipping back into a fighting stance. "We haven't been properly introduced, Shadow of Skypillar. My name is Aya Scalesworn."

"Who claims to not miss, yet here we are," said Banshee, burying her sliver of worry under as much sass as she could manage. "You attacked my partner. If I'd been there, you and your sister would have been subdued in less than a minute."

Aya pouted. "And yet... you weren't. You left your little lover bird all alone, just as he's doing to you now." She bit down on her lip, looking out from under her lashes at Banshee. "Do you suppose that he's--"

As Aya spoke, Banshee saw the yellow glow of a Lightblaster from the corner of her eye.

She barely threw herself backwards in time to avoid the shot.

All three of the siblings were free. All three, and there'd been no alarms, no alerts from the temple. So many guards had been watching them. DragonFae herself had visited them weekly, set wards, security measures--and yet, here they were, all of them free.

How?

"Impressive!" said Aya, clapping her hands in delight. Banshee glanced in the direction of the shot to find Alma holding Aya's blaster, already lining up the second shot, the scar Cryo had given her seven weeks ago gleaming across her cheek. "You would be a worthy target! And not breakable like the others, either! Though my sister's aim does leave much to be desired, you and I would have so much fun!"

Banshee dove forward, rolling low across the ground before collecting her legs under her and launching herself into the air as flashes of yellow light missed her by inches. Alma's aim followed her, and Banshee threw Grief straight towards the blaster, hoping to put it out of commision the same way she had the first.

The dagger missed its mark as Alma stepped aside, far faster than she should have been able to, even if she'd been expecting the throw.

Banshee's jump landed her on the wall of a nearby building, clinging by her fingertips and giving her a clear view of the street.

The civilians were gone, the crowds scattered and hiding inside the nearby buildings even as a few daring souls inched closer with their Liaisers up. Adande had turned back to Jason and was frantically bandaging his arm while, a few metres away, Alma threw the Lightblaster to Aya.

Banshee tapped her tattoo again, hoping for some kind of response out of Cryo, right as instinct screamed that something was above her.

She didn't waste time looking before she dropped back to street level, pushing straight off the ground into a flip towards Jason. Something large and heavy sounding hit the ground where she'd been a heartbeat ago, and finding its prey had escaped, growled.

Banshee looked up, Joy raised and ready.

The Manifested was human yet not. Banshee couldn't tell what gender it'd been before Manifesting. It was twice her height, carved of glittering black crystal that moved like liquid. It didn't have a mouth or a nose, only concave, dark voids instead of eyes.

Banshee steadied herself. Manifested she could deal with--but alone, with all three of the crimson siblings gathered and who knows how many of their allies... she was going to have to play this perfectly. More than perfectly if she wanted to keep Jason safe. All the siblings would have to do was hold him hostage, and--actually, there was a way out of this.

"Adande," said Banshee, never taking her eyes from the Manifested. The nausea from the Serpent's aura still clung to her skin like slime, corroding her focus a little more with every breath she took. "If Jason is hurt any further by anything, I am holding you personally responsible for his condition even if I have to hit Vengeance to do it."

"Clever, aren't you?" said Aya. "Do you expect my dear brother to throw himself in front of Jason if I were to do, say... this?"

Aya lifted the Lightblaster straight towards Jason.

In the same instant, Adande aimed his own blaster and fired a warning shot that flew centimetres above Aya's head.

"Back off, Aya!" called Adande. "You heard the plan just as loudly as I did!"

"Oh please. It's on stun," said Aya as she turned the blaster on Banshee and fired.

Banshee leapt over the shot, but not towards Aya. She landed where Grief's tip was imbedded in the starstone and yanked the dagger out. Almost as soon as it was free, the Manifested was on her, its entire black, crystalline mass writhing together like every piece of it was alive, fists balled and arms raised to bring them down on her.

Instead of dodging backwards, Banshee slashed at its legs as she rolled between them, keeping the Manifested's body between herself and Aya. The Manifested roared--not in pain, but in anger--when one of her daggers went deep enough to cause a stumble. She followed up, attacking the weak point and severing the leg clean through.

Like its blood was made of ebony sand, liquid crystals clung to the gleaming blades of her daggers as she pulled them back and watched the Manifested hit the ground. Horrible, reeking sand that just felt... wrong. Before she realised what she was doing, she was flicking the dagger, attempting to clean her blades of it.

That moment of distraction was all it took for her to miss the Manifested's arm swinging towards her until it was too late.

In the tiny fraction of a second she had, Banshee fell deeper into her shadow shift to dull the impact as it caught her across the throat. It knocked a gasp out of her instead of breaking her neck as she kept enough of her senses to plunge Joy into its arm and anchor herself. The Manifested roared and thrashed again, almost wrenching her arm straight from its socket as she used Joy's hilt to swing herself up onto the Manifested's back.

The hit had still taken its toll. Her vision was fuzzy, air still making its way down her aching windpipe, but it bought her a few seconds to get herself under control. The Manifested was still missing a leg, so it shouldn't be long before--

The Manifested stood up, both legs perfectly intact as its body inverted, its back became its front and its face morphed into existence inches from Banshee's own.

They stared at each other for a whole second before Banshee placed her knuckles on its shoulders and launched herself away from its grip.

She wasn't fast enough. The Manifested caught her ankle and slammed her back into the ground.

Her visor gave an audible crack as it hit the starstone, saving her face from a direct impact.

Pain dug its claws into her bones as she pushed herself back up.

Jason. Jason. Jason.

The Manifested reached down for her, still holding her ankle. Banshee lashed out with her other foot, driving her heel straight into its wrist. It didn't release her, but it did stagger the Manifested long enough for Banshee to reach forward and sever its arm with Grief.

Its arm fell with a roar. Its hand remained clamped around her ankle, and in seconds--seconds--the newly severed arm began to bubble and pull back together like they were magnetised.

Banshee pushed her leg deeper into the shadowshift, desperate to get it free. All colour faded from her boot, but still trapped, she pushed deeper still, until the edges of it began to bleed into the surrounding shadows. It wasn't until her leg was little more than smoke that it slipped free of the Manifested's grip, straight through those squirming crystals.

Banshee wasted no time in putting distance between herself and the Manifested, using the precious seconds to locate Jason and the crimson siblings. Worry shot through her gut as she couldn't find any of them--but where Jason had been against the wall, the shadows she saw did not match the shadows that she felt. Four human shadows, not the haphazard, empty patches of night her eyes told her were there.

A hallucination, then--but the Serpent shouldn't have had this kind of power. She and Cryo had drilled DragonFae about it. There had never been a corrupted Manifested outside the festival period. Without that second moon in the sky, they were supposed to be safe from the Serpent, yet here she was, fighting a corrupted Manifested, drowning in the Serpent's aura.

So many things tonight were supposed to be impossible. Banshee didn't have time to consider them all as she tapped a third time for Cryo, begging whatever deity was listening that her partner would hear her.

This Manifested wasn't going down easily. She had no idea where its fragment was, wouldn't be able to find it easily when its entire body looked like one. It regenerated, had backup in the form of Aya and Alma, and with Jason at risk, she couldn't put herself on a timer by using her Scream. Even if she did--she doubted this Manifested would stay down long enough for her to find its fragment.

She needed her partner, but all she had was silence. Never before had he been silent--not like this.

Everything flew through her head in the same second, a whirlwind of decisions that weren't quite conscious as much as they were automatic even while the Manifested rotated towards her.

Let the crimson siblings think she couldn't see them, that they were safe.

First, the Manifested had to go down.

Banshee spun her daggers in her fingers, letting the movement be the floodgates for every Shadow-born instinct she had. She sank past herself, into the depths that knew every shape and body, that no one could escape, until her fingers were little more than wisps of smoke wrapped around gleaming slivers of light.

One piece remained: a name.

Not hers. Her name was lost among the Shadow and Smoke.

His name. His name, the one solid piece of her left.

The name the nightmares took. The name she would become a nightmare to protect.

Banshee opened her eyes and stared at the world split in two by her cracked visor.

The Manifested had a million pieces, but every single one had a shadow, and those shadows were hers. With a low, haunting melody quiet on her lips, she stepped forward, from one shadow to the next to stand behind the Manifested.

Her target inverted, its face re-forming on its back, its empty, inky eyes consuming her piece by piece--and finding nothing but smoke. Bitter, acrid smoke that filled every crevice between its million crystals, searching for the shadow that was different to the rest.

As it searched, the smoke still holding her daggers fought. The Manifested lunged for her. She stepped to the side, from one shadow to the next, bringing a dagger straight up through its outstretched arm and severing it. Before the arm hit the ground, she stepped again, this time behind it, and slashed a dagger across the back of its legs.

Again and again, the Manifested reformed, and again and again, she stepped through the shadows, evading it as easily as smoke through a child's fingers until she found it.

The shadow she sought lay in the Manifested's lower back.

One step, one lunge, and her dagger was buried in the Manifested's body up to her wrist.

The ebony sand engulfed her. It tore at her shadows, stripping them away until she was flesh once more, until the pain echoed down her bones, screaming a thousand times louder than it had been before. The sand sucked her in, covering her elbow. She tightened her grip on the dagger, the sand working its way over her fingers, trying to pry them loose.

Jason.

She brought a foot up to brace herself against the Manifested's back, trying to pull her dagger out.

Not a nightmare.

Her knee buckled beneath her.

Jason.

With a guttural scream and one, giant effort, Banshee ripped her arm free of the Manifested's body. Joy came with it, and embedded on its tip, the corrupted fragment's essence leaked from its core.

The black sand fell away from the Manifested's body, revealing the human beneath. Banshee dropped Joy, crushing the remaining fragment under the heel of her boot. She kicked the dagger away before she reached to pick it up, which was when she saw her arm.

The grey cloth sleeves and armoured bracers of her transformation had been almost entirely eaten away, revealing the damage beneath. From her wrist to her elbow, thin patches of blood glistened in haphazard patches among the almost completely peeled top layer of skin. Pieces of it hung off in clumps, rubbed raw by the Manifested's body.

Strangely enough, she didn't feel any of its promised agony, but she did feel the blood slide down her wrist and make Joy's hilt slippery as she picked the dagger up.

The Manifested was dealt with, its human collapsed on the ground just in front of her. Her tattoo still wasn't warm, which meant Cryo hadn't felt any of her taps, but--

No. Her tattoo wasn't warm. It was still cold. Bone-bitingly cold.

Banshee whirled around, ensuring that the cleansed Manifested was indeed cleansed before she turned her gaze elsewhere.

For her tattoo to still be cold, a Manifested was still active, but she'd dealt with this one so where--

In answer, a blast of wind exploded from around the corner, and a second later, a bleeding, winged figure launched himself into the air. The feathers of Pegasus's right wing was more crimson than blue as he staggered a landing onto the rooftop above Banshee, barely far enough to avoid the two, small black-crystal Manifested that leapt after him.

Pegasus backed up, his wings drooping low against the rooftop as they circled him, one to the left, one to the right.

She had to help, but she couldn't.

Because behind her, the crimson siblings were gone, taking Jason with them.

*+*+*+*

A/N - Buckle. The. Heck. Up.

Also: If audio recordings are your thing, check out the post on my WP profile or Patreon <3

Bonus Kibart to sway you all from murdering me: