Don't fight like idiots, you know the drill. Wait for openings then attack. Cover each other's flanks," Varnis shouted to her right.

"Got it," his men uttered, their hearts united.

Her fingers curled, tightening around her weapon's hilt. The warmth she exuded conquered the metal's cold. Comfortable and reliable, a silent comrade. Isla smirked, her lean frame adjacent and ready. The beasts had charged straight ahead, exposing themselves. Well, they were animals.

She remained vigilant, watching their foes circle. Isla scrutinized each step and ear shift. One alternation or distraction could spiral their loss.

Snarls inspired, entwining with grunts and the coaxing boyish voice of Ham. His attempts at conversation ignored as he battled a Bloodhound.

Her ears listened while her eyes were fixated. A sharp motion on her peripheral flickered her gaze. A Bloodhound lunged at Varnis, targeting his leg.

Varnis stabbed down with his lance, piercing the beast's body. A howl split through the grunts of men. Yet, retaliation instilled with another Bloodhound charging to assist. The second foe leaped at Varnis, but Isla stepped right, slicing the wide open maw.

She cemented her heels and braced against the weight. Her body shuddered, moaning from the strain. One full push and she deflected the snarling teeth.

Isla wiped her hands and extended her fingers, their numbness vanishing. She glared at the Bloodhound, blood dripping from its snout.

Varnis twisted his lance, earning another howl and heaved the twitching Bloodhound. With one motion, he tossed the ragged body. The furred corpse struck the second beast, reaping a yelp. The failing comrade scampered backward and sniffed the leftovers.

All the living Bloodhounds whimpered but gave no signal for retreat. Their bloody red eyes intensified, the color shifting to midnight, blending against their hides.

"Five more remain, patience," Varnis said.

The whimpers transitioned to ferocious growls. Their cries ripped and tore her eardrums, pain shooting deep. She gasped, wincing at their intensity. Why now? Why not retreat?

No, flight became distant, a fantasy even. These monsters eradicated their tendencies to escape.

The pack's hesitation rescinded and they attacked as one. They flung themselves, snapping and nipping at openings. Isla lowered her frame, absorbing the impact. Her feet neither budged nor bulked. Persistence would win.

She directed her sword, defending with timed counters. Isla nicked the Bloodhound each reckless attack. Yet, she aroused no howls.

Wolfe sparred to her left, guarding with one dagger. He retrieved another weapon and flung the blade at his nemesis. The projectile flew, slicing air and penetrated his Bloodhound's skull. The beast collapsed with stomach rising one last time.

"Oh baby, four," Wolfe hooted.

The remaining Bloodhounds halted and resumed their high pitched scream. Isla clenched her teeth. Seriously, what were they doing?

"We need to stop that howl," Slate voiced.

"What are they doing?" Wolfe commented.

"Calling friends."

"Great," Wolfe drawled

Varnis glanced at them, the lines detailing his face wrinkling. "We aren't sticking around to find out. Boys, pick a target. We move on three. Clean and simple."

Bloodlust drenched and electrified the air. One sip and all were frenzied. Varnis' crew heeded his orders, their heads nodded and stances primed.

"One. Two. Three!"

His countdown inflamed their fight. Each member pinpointed a target and dashed forward. Isla watched them, dazed and unmoving.

Wolfe sliced through his enemies' jugular, spraying blood onto the blue blades. Opposite him, Varnis thrust his lance, piercing the Bloodhound's hide. He transformed the howl into a gurgling choke. With a twist, he removed his weapon, leaving a gaping hole behind.

She spun around, the remaining Bloodhounds losing their flames of life. Ham decapitated his foe, the head laid whole, the white spine severed clean.

Slate finished last, thrusting through the belly of the beast. His sword carved the Bloodhound with an artistic touch. He was good. Maybe if he dropped the egotistic and confrontational attitude she would change her opinion.

She jerked around at hearing Varnis' command. "We're moving. Now."

"Um, Boss. We have a problem," Ham interrupted.

Their party turned toward him. Her gaze traveled to where he pointed.

The woods swarmed with Bloodhounds. Not a single pack, not even two. At least five with similar numbers as the first. A cloud shifted overhead, casting shadows on their engagement. The Bloodhounds merged into the darkness, but their eyes radiated like beacons. The blood red color of their frenzy.

"Are you serious?" Slate said.

"Boss, what's the plan?" Wolfe added.

"We run. Use the trees to slow them down."

"Fatty won't make it," Slate objected and faltered, stepping back.

"Always hate the fat man," Ham whined, but countered, "one of my magic tools might do the trick. How about it?"

"And get us all caught in the blast? Don't be dumb," Slate retorted.

Isla scanned their party and cleared her throat. Now or never. "Cover me. I'll stop them.".

Varnis scrutinized her, his face twisting. Did her saving them bother him that much, or did he fear her incapable? Yet, a decision needed to be made. He had no time. They would all be doomed without a plan soon enough.

"I'm not dying because of a God," Slate growled. "Their magnets for trouble. Every time."

"Shut up, Slate," Varnis barked. "Do it, Princess. Boys form a circle, we're defending."

Isla flinched at her title but suppressed a derisive retort. Now wasn't the time. She faced the horde and sheathed her weapon. She hadn't the chance to practice large-scale magic since removing her seal. From testing, she knew her control improved. Combined with the increased aura, her initial conception of her abilities changed. The effective range and power would have matured. This was reckless, but the only way.

She pinched her thigh, focusing her attention as the mercenaries surrounded her. Her gaze snapped to the Bloodhounds and their casual strut. Several trotted to their dead comrades, sniffing their beaten and mangled hides. They whimpered, crying for them.

Varnis and his men recoiled and tightened their circle, their shoulders bumping into hers. Good, the closer, the better. A second chance might be impossible.

She cleared her mind and dropped to her knees. The surrounding earth, the easiest and quickest to manipulate. Beneath the bluegrass, the earth was damp and soft. She placed both hands and pressed. Spindling her aura, she injected the energy but controlled its depth. Her immediate area was avoided, providing a safe haven for those protecting her.

"Hurry Princess," Varnis said between the grunts and snarls of man and beast.

His useless words distracted her, but she held her aura. She continued, working to spread her energy farther. A searing pain shot through her arm, numbing as it traveled. Isla breathed deep, cooling her concentration. She would complete this task. A few feet more and she could deliver substantial damage to the horde.

She balked as a Bloodhound snapped its jaw before her face. Her eyes widened with saliva smacking her skin. The snarling snout disappeared, pulled away by Varnis. He threw the beast back by the leather coated twin tail.

Isla growled. How could she? She almost lost her aura mass within the ground.

Her control survived and she reached her destination. With one motion, she clenched her hands and pulled. The act integrated with her imagination of thin earthen spikes uplifting from the ground.

The ground beneath the Bloodhounds rippled. Her imagination became reality as the earth lifted. The ground formed at random around their group, groaning and creaking. The spikes jutted out, piercing through the Bloodhound horde.

Dirt mingled with blood, splattering into the air and raining down upon their group. Some Bloodhounds whimpered and howled, but the rest had their lives forfeited.

Isla relaxed her back. Her muscles stung from her taut state. She collapsed onto her feet. The magic draining her strength.

"Well that was over quick," chuckled Ham. "I was worried for a second there."

"Worried? Only that? I saw your panicked face. Don't lie to us," Wolfe mocked.

"Okay, fine. I was scared out of my mind. Happy?" Ham sighed and dropped his ax. The weapon dripped with fresh blood from his kills.

Wolfe scavenged for his daggers through the corpses. He cleaned them off once found. "Oh, I'm happy."

Slate clicked his tongue. "Next time we bring a magic user. I'm not relying on a God again."

Isla staggered to her feet, bracing her hands on her knees. Maybe next time she should let him die. What an annoyance. Still, what were the chances her magic would not be used again?

Wiping the dirt onto her cloak, her eyes wandered their group. They had a few cuts and bite marks, nothing worrisome. Their trek could resume.

"Let's go," Varnis growled. He started sliding past spikes, avoiding areas with multiple skewered beasts.

"Someone's pissed," Wolfe mumbled from behind

Their party followed his pattern and escaped the earthen tomb she had erected. They headed into the woods, their pace slower, but steady.

"Ham, how much farther?" Varnis asked.

"Oh, um, should be close?" His head craned around, searching for the answer. "There!"

His hand flew up, pointing to a section of the woods. A silverish tint denoted the access point. Yet, the color was pale, if he had not pointed to the anomaly, she would have overlooked it.

"Easy," Ham rejoiced.

"Don't say easy after you failed us," Wolfe commented.

"My bad." Ham's shoulders drooped and he scratched his bent head.

They stepped through the transition point. Isla felt the same film covering descend, but heavier this time, like a second skin added themselves to her body. Could this be the forest's method of telling outsiders to stay away? What did it mean?

"Listen. We're picking up the pace. Remember, before nightfall," Varnis spoke.

They exchanged unwavering gazes in silence. A sign they knew what fate decided. No sight and they would fall.

Ham chuckled. "We got this. Let's go."

"What an optimistic fatty," Wolfe teased ahead.

"I'm not worried, he'll be the first," Slate added from the rear.

Isla scoured their surroundings. The same ashen trees combined with the azure plantlife. Yet, the trees had girth, rising further upwards and expanding arms. Were they still considered Madwood, or something else? Maybe the latter, moss grew at the base and patches of grass grew nearby. This place reminded her of a forest floor. Not a carnivorous wasteland.

Though she waited, her patience earned no reward from the trees. Instead, a sweet candy smell filled her nostrils. Where did this aroma originate? Was this concerning? Most definitely yes. What kind of hellish creature enticed their prey with this smell?

A howl sounded followed by a series of yelps and growls. They repeated, unending and frequent as they traversed the second ring.

Small blotches of luminous yellow flowers padded their pathway. The sweet aroma became stronger.

"Ham, avoid the flowers for Arcadia's sake. What have I told you?" Varnis yelled.

"But Boss, it's been fine so far. What's the harm?" he grumbled.

"Probably because of the rotting carcasses hidden beneath those flowers you find so beautiful," commented Wolfe. "Unless you want to be laid to rest with them, avoid them, for all of us."

"Don't introduce us as another territorial group to the beasts here," Varnis reprimanded. "We're making good time, don't screw it up."

"Fine, fine," Ham grumbled then jumped. "There! A checkpoint. Just a bit more and we'll be at the next ring."

"All right boys. Pick up the speed, we're almost there," Varnis stated.

They increased their pace from their light jog into a run. But they were not alone.

A fast silent monster approached the left-hand side and by-passed them. The beast arced, slamming to a halt before Ham. His chubby weight propelled him forward and he skidded. He teetered before dropping to one knee.

A beast the sheer girth of two men towered over them. The midnight framed yellow eyes pierced their group, their irises shimmering. Red glowing spots littered the coat, transforming to orange with light. With a golden mane fluffing the face, neither the wind nor time attempted to strike.

Two bent horns connected to a point on the creature's head. Sharp talons grew from the paws, seeking to gouge their prey. Yet, the folded greenish wings attracted her attention. What purpose did flight have in a dense forest?

The beast growled, low and deep. The air gushed, sweeping leaves and shaking the rooted forest dwellers.

"The King," Slate spoke, his voice tense.

A/N: Was a busy week, but I finished! Enjoy~