Maybe it's more obvious to me than it is to someone without the

  senses of a Mageblood. Helena's got magic, sure, so she counts as one

  by technicality, but it hasn't changed her yet. She can't move the

  way I do, or control magic with the same ease as breathing.

  But, Gods, if I'm not screaming at her to , as I

  sprint towards her. She's turned in response to my shout. Don't look

  at me, idiot, look at the monster charging towards you! At this

  speed, the best I can do is point and shout some more, praying she'll

  catch on and move.

  Too slow. Here, in a moment stretched by urgency and instinct, with

  each of my steps lengthened by the force of Wind, even the alarm in

  her eyes sparks sluggishly.

  She's an idiot, I remind myself, a fool who hasn't been listening

  when I thought she was. But I don't plan on bringing back a corpse.

  She deserves a talking to, not a burial.

  I'm furious, obviously. But I'm also resigned, and utterly

  unsurprised. She's a novice, and one who only really seems to care

  about what I can give her, in retrospect. A novice I'd humored too

  far— and now I'm down here without my gear, fighting something

  where both would've been very appreciated. I could've gone for

  knocking the bear off track instead, even, used my armor to protect

  myself from the thorns.

  And there's a tinge of relief as my arms wrap around her, dragging

  her out of the way. Relief followed a sharp, stinging pain, because

  I'm not fast enough to get completely out of the way when it's trying

  to steer towards us. The monster's side scrapes across my arm, thorns

  scoring bloody valleys through flesh and clattering across scales. I

  grit my teeth and force that last step out of the way, wincing even

  as magic starts trying to stitch my flesh back together.

  Time, stretched thin, snaps back together. My heartbeat rumbles in my

  ears, warm blood drips over rapidly-forming scales, and I can't help

  but curse my own idiocy.

  “I didn't see it,” Helena murmurs through rapid, shallow breaths,

  hands curling around my forearms. “I didn't see it, I didn't see

  it. Oh, Restoration. I could've— you—”

  “Regret later. Focus, Helena.” I peel my arms away from her,

  wincing as each torn muscle flexes and strains. Can I take this thing

  down, starting off with an injury? Definitely. Can I do it easily

  without killing a rather fragile human in the collateral, without,

  unarmed? No.

  I instinctively reach for my belt, for a bandage I can use or even a

  healing salve. When I grasp at air, I'm once again reminded that I

  went into this without any of my usual tools.

  Helena stumbles as I step back, knees buckling. I steady her with my

  uninjured hand, but turn my focus to my wounds in the seconds we have

  before the monster turns back around.

  Let's see. I roll my shoulder back, clench my hand into a fist, and

  Gods, ow, that stings still. Easily manageable, but straining myself

  while healing would just be another risk. It's my dominant arm, too,

  but I wouldn't have gotten far as a Delver if I could only fight

  uninjured.

  Of course, I've survived this long in part due to preparation. Armor,

  knives, alchemical solutions, spiked knuckles on occasion, all the

  sorts of things that'd help fight giant monsters— I kick those

  thoughts to the side. Complaining helps nothing.

  I slide back into analysis, and get a good look at the monster. It's

  another bramble-bound bear, a carving wrapped in knotted thorns and

  drooling tar from a jagged maw. Could even be the same one, if it

  picked up our scent. I should've been more careful.

  Tough. Very tough, but not impossibly so, I'm sure; I'd faced scarier

  foes plenty of times. Best comparison I can draw up is a brawl with

  an Ent. I'll need big hits to crack the wood, and it's heavy enough

  that I can use its own weight against it— but I'll need something

  to cut the briars. Given my knife is still at the estate, I guess

  it'll be Wind for that. Alternatively, a flask of fire from an

  alchemist would have worked excellently. Burn the briars away, maybe

  scorch the wood enough to weaken it.

  Drawing everything together? If I'd brought my equipment, I could

  kill it with relative ease. But I didn't, so I'll have to improvise.

  Plans form, plans are discarded, and as the bear monster finally

  skids to a stop, I have an .

  Helena takes a shuddering breath, hugging herself and visibly

  shaking. “Can we. Gods, can we fight that? Are you okay?”

  “No choice.” I reply curtly. The monster is lumbering towards us

  now, loping steps eating up the distance. “Helena, get behind

  something and hit it at the joint of its left hind limb, cut up the

  brambles. Can you do precision?”

  She nods rapidly, dropping her hands down to her thankfully-intact

  bag. “I, um, yes. I spend a lot of time—”

  “Good.” I nod, loosening my stance and dripping Lightning into my

  legs. It wouldn't have the raw force of Wind, but short-range

  Lightning can cause explosive damage. Perfect for breaking joints,

  even if the noise can draw a lot of attention. I put more magic into

  my good arm, drawing out the scales and turning my nails into sharp

  claws. “Then do it. Hammer its joints with Wind whenever I call for

  it, and stay away, understand?”

  Helena's voice drops, her words wavering. “I understand.”

  I hum in response, but it comes out as more of a growl. Tail lashing,

  I bring up my good arm and start circling to one side, away from

  Helena. Looks like she's getting out of the way, good, and the bear

  is looking at me more than her. Even better.

  The bear turns just enough, picking up speed. Each step shakes the

  ground, tossing branches and leaves in every direction. Come on, come

  on.

  A sound like tearing branches is ripped from its throat, and a gleam

  of greenish light forms on its fangs. Instinct demands I bare my own

  fangs, and I snarl in answer to the monster's call. My heart pounds

  in my chest, stirring with the strange excitement of battle.

  The bear draws closer, and closer, and closer. Gods, it's huge, isn't

  it, tall enough to look straight into my eyes—

  The soil trembles beneath me, as if threatening to give way—

  Come on, Helena—

  Its fangs are a handsbreadth from my chest when I leap to the side,

  half-lunging, half-spinning. I push Wind through my tail as it whips

  around, carving gouges through the bramble and tearing splinters of

  wood from its knee.

  Lightning pulses, setting every hair on end, and I stomp down on the

  now exposed and wounded knee joint.

  A sound like thunder rolls over me. Splinters fly, the air crackles,

  and the bear tumbles as a small hole appears where my boot connected.

  Its own momentum drags it forward and downward into the dirt, a mess

  of flying limbs and snarling fury.

  I snarl back, swiping a Wind-enhanced claw across its flank. Brambles

  fly through the air, tumbling in the sudden breeze, and I follow it

  by leaning back and stomping down again with my foot.

  Another deafening crack. Another roar of thunder. Another scattering

  of shrapnel and splinters. Leaves flutter through the air, blasted

  outward by the force of the blow.

  In one moment, the monster is stumbling, seeking its footing. My

  heart is roaring in my ears.

  In the next, the thing is turning, its wooden claws close enough to

  my face that I feel a breeze. Instinct alone allows me to duck under,

  and I refuse to lose any ground. I brace myself instead, ducking

  lower when the second paw hooks around. My legs tense. Lightning

  crackles in my left hand, and I curl my scaled fingers into a loose

  fist.

  “The head, Helena!” I roar. “Aim up!”

  The monster's turn completes... and my fist connects with its chin,

  which is now directly above me.

  Lightning flashes, wood blackens, and the monster's head snaps back,

  groaning and creaking like a dead tree. Its forepaws, still uneven on

  their new footing, rise off the ground completely.

  A moment later, shimmering Wind slams into its neck, pushing it

  further upwards onto its hind legs.

  “Again!”

  Helena's Wind slices its way through the brambles, leaving a chunk of

  its midsection exposed. I drop into a fighting stance and deliver a

  punch to its midsection, then a lighter, Wind-enhanced one with my

  wounded arm. It stings, tugging at ripped muscle, but I’m careful

  not to strain it further. A third punch sinks into the monster's

  wooden hide, finally denting it— finally making a weak point. I

  pivot a Lightning kick directly into that dent, burning briars

  and splitting the wood loudly enough to hurt my ears.

  This seems to just piss it off. It roars, drowning out all other

  noise, and swings its arms down as if to crush my head.

  Dodging would let it recover, make it a tougher fight. Blocking lets

  me stay in close, but the risk... no.

  The risk isn’t acceptable, I realize, and I leap backwards. None of

  the usual risks are acceptable here. Any hit these things land is

  going to hurt, and I don't have any of the tools to manage that risk.

  Tools that Helena pushed us to go in without. I'm an idiot.

  So I’m probably not killing this thing without help from a Delve

  Heart, and if getting to it is dangerous, we might need to escape

  with the Heart. I'll need to disable the monster and buy time,

  somehow. Low risk. Distract it, maybe. How?

  As the monster drops back down, I spin on one foot and drive the

  other straight into its snout. Something gives underneath, cracking

  but not breaking entirely. My tail follows the pivot, slapping

  against its side and scattering the briars. Just as my tail connects,

  I take a quick jab at its chin, wincing when the wood fails to give.

  It roars, snapping at my hand, swinging with one paw as if to bat me

  away. I step back again, taking a few quick punches and kicks where I

  can find the openings.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  No distractions here. The monster isn't even close to dying, either.

  Maybe some Delve trick, or just blasting a hole in the ground and

  hoping that delays it?

  Or maybe Helena could...

  I glance back.

  No Helena. Gods it all.

  “Helena!” I shout, irritation nearly turning it into a roar.

  She's running off on her own again! It better be worth it.

  The monster swings at me again, getting up on its hind legs. I duck

  and weave, slamming a Lightning-infused punch into the crack on the

  monster's belly.

  A moment later, the Delve stirs. The rippling feeling of the Delve Heart rises over the background, prodding at my magic. Something, or someone, is moving the Heart. Not that there's any doubt who did it— she's either very stupid, very brave, or both.

  It's a complicated thought to be having when I'm trying to tear apart

  this monster. I leap away from another lethal paw-swipe, dripping

  Wind into my claws. I scan its hind legs, and after another swipe

  that gets far too close to my head, I drag sharpened Wind across its

  knee. With the brambles cleared—

  It spins, and a briar-wrapped backhand forces me to dodge. Damn.

  “Whatever scheme you've got, Helena, hurry up!” I shout, ducking

  in for another string of punches. The cracks in the monster's belly

  are smaller than before, I realize, and I bite out a curse. Of course

  it can heal. Every dodge I make gives it more time to recover, and

  with my wounded arm I'm barely outpacing it.

  “I- Ivy! C— oh, Restoration sustain me— catch!” Her voice

  cuts through the noise with impeccable timing, audibly strained and

  wavering.

  Oh Gods she's going to throw a Delve Heart.

  And when I turn, she's hefting the Delve Heart— a fist sized lump

  of yellowish crystal, pulsing in time with the waves of the Delve.

  Her arms are shaking, her eyes are glowing brighter than ever before,

  but with Wind swirling around her hands, she manages to lob it in my

  direction.

  Helena drops to the ground like a puppet on cut strings, her arms

  collapsing when she tries to stop herself. She'll be fine. Probably.

  I don’t see any visible wounds or warping, which is good.

  My eyes snap to the Heart, watching as it arcs through the air.

  Moving even further from the monster, I brace myself, and snatch it

  out of the air.

  Delve Hearts are incredible things. Little chunks of raw, solidified

  Delve magic, useable like any other form of stored magic.

  Incredible and overwhelming to the unprepared, as Helena just

  demonstrated. They don’t give you a choice.

  Delve magic oozes out like a cold and viscous tar, creeping up my

  body and biting at my bones. Scales spread up my arm in response, and

  the world brightens and sharpens to impossible clarity. Each

  splinter, each crack in the stone— each ragged breath from Helena.

  My tail lengthens, curling to the side so it stays out of my way.

  Minutes before, I was looking for a distraction. A delaying tactic,

  so Helena and I could run and grab the Delve Heart for this exact

  plan. I’ll give her credit for that, even if it was phenomenally

  stupid of her.

  Now, with Helena weakened, I’ll have to think a bit creatively to

  deal with this monster, but at least I’m not on the back foot.

  Delve magic swirls sluggishly around me, and as the monster lowers

  itself for another charge, I close my eyes and reach inward. Into the

  Delve itself, grasping at its impossible abstractions near-blindly. I

  search for familiarity, for a feeling I've experienced once before.

  Sharpened senses let me step out of the monster's charge, even with

  my eyes closed. It's not even aimed at Helena, so I don't have to

  worry about that. Where is it, where is it... it has to be here,

  somewhere in this. It's like feeling around in a dark room, searching

  for a needle and hoping it doesn't prick me. It's part of this Delve

  layer, though, so my metaphorical needle can't be far.

  My wounded arm starts to ache, stronger than before. Tarlike Delve

  magic pools into the cuts and bruises, coating them with scales and

  yanking everything back together.

  The monster turns and snaps, the groaning of its joints more than

  enough warning for me to lean away.

  I reach deeper. Deeper, into the dark—

  There. A roaring, a shift without movement, bound up in an idea and

  framed like a loose gear. It's cold and bitter, speaking of frozen

  sleep and brutal repose.

  The Delve had already gone from Summer to Autumn— why not make it

  Winter next?

  Pouring Delve magic through myself, I grab the cog and slot it into

  place. My mind catches on the pinching gears, and I can’t help but

  wince.

  The ground shakes. My bones ache. The breeze turns frigid. Flecks of

  ice and snow blink into existence, melting on my skin and glittering

  on my scales when I open my eyes. My tail curls inward towards my

  leg, seeking warmth as frost bites deep into it.

  When the monster stops to sniff, I sprint towards Helena, ducking

  down to scoop her up. She's quite light, maybe too light, actually.

  “Snow?” She murmurs groggily, shaking her head. Her voice is

  barely audible over the rising wind. Snowflakes cling to her hair and

  eyelashes as she blinks herself back to full consciousness. “Is

  that... mm.”

  Never mind. She's still recovering. The question is valid though; how

  is a little snow going to stop a wooden bear?

  Well, that's easy. It's not going to be a little bit of snow. It'll be a whole winter's worth, all at once, if the last seasonal shift was

  anything to go by.

  The wind rises to a roar, and I drag a bubble of Wind around us. A

  touch of Delve magic can nudge the worst of it away, but it'll still—

  Winter arrives with a sound I'll describe as . A march-tall

  blanket of snow arrives with no particular warning or obvious origin,

  bringing with it raw air and dead silence.

  There's even snow under my boots, somehow. There's barely

  two-hundredths of a march worth around us, thanks to Wind and Delve

  magic, which I'm quite thankful for. I dismiss the bubble with a

  flick of my tail, and lumps of snow collapse inward on the now-empty

  space.

  Crowning this winter landscape is the giant, motionless lump of snow

  where the monstrous bear was. If we're lucky, these things hibernate

  in winter like real bears and react appropriately to the changing of

  the layer’s season. If we're unlucky and it’s still awake, it's

  still buried in a massive pile of snow. Win-win.

  Helena groans, hands flopping up to rub her cheeks. “R-Restoration,

  bless me with strength. Thank you. But, um, could you let me down

  now?”

  I raise an eyebrow, and debate dumping her into the snow. She kind of

  deserves it. I give the snow a slap with my tail instead, sending a

  shower of the stuff over our surroundings. “You’re welcome. It

  took a lot of work to get us out of that alive, and we're not out of

  the woods yet.”

  I wince at my own pun, crouching down to let Helena find her footing.

  I don't move until she is firmly upright, which I admit I didn't

  expect her to be capable of.

  “And,” I add, sticking a claw up, stalling her words, “You

  picked up a Delve Heart. Good plan, stupid decision.”

  She flushes red under my glare. “At least, um, it worked out?”

  At least it worked out, she says. As if she hadn’t caused the damn

  problem herself. Heat stirs in my gut.

  “At least it worked out,” I hiss back, teeth clenched. There’s

  a growl underpinning my words, and I don’t care to stop it. Burning

  heat floods my body, pumped on by my still-thumping heart and

  drowning out everything else. “And why did we have to work it out,

  Helena?”

  My eyes lock with Helena's, and she shudders. Her jaw works. “Um,

  because of the monster. But I couldn't have known—”

  She stops abruptly. My blood boils, and my tail is lashing from side

  to side, digging vicious furrows in the snow.

  “Oh, you couldn't have known, Helena?” I hiss, stepping closer.

  How dare she try for an excuse. It's infuriating. I reach for

  wounding words, and they come easily. “Did you try listening when I

  spoke? Or were you too busy trying to prove your farce of a Church

  wrong?”

  Her cheeks turn bright red, and she locks her eyes with mine. “Don't

  you dare call them that. I wasn't sure what to do! I thought we were

  safe!”

  “Obviously, we weren't!” I bite, fuming. I jab a claw at her, and

  she steps back. “Which you would have known if you had paid

  attention! And you didn't! You weren't even listening to what I just

  said, were you?”

  The heat is nearly unbearable. Tension builds in my chest, coiled

  ever tighter, waiting and begging for release. I want to bite, or

  claw, or punch, or scream. To roar at the sky, with this Delve’s

  magic setting my blood ablaze.

  She jerks her chin up, crossing her arms. “You took me on this

  Delve! You let me do this, so I thought you could handle anything we

  ran into. I overestimated, I misunderstood.”

  “You're still not listening!” I fire back at her, swinging my

  arms wide for emphasis. Wind follows the motion, blasting a wall of

  snow into the air behind me. “I was telling you, right then and

  there, that we needed to be careful. But you ran ahead!”

  She bites her lip, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I made a

  mistake, then, fine! I learned from it. I know now.”

  “A mistake. One. Sssure.” I snarl, rolling my eyes. The hiss that

  comes with being fully transformed is leaking out, and it’s enough

  to make me exercise just a bit of control. I turn and pace, boots

  digging satisfyingly into the ground. In that moment, realization

  dawns, swirling into dread. I voice my thoughts as they come. “No.

  You were trying to use me, Helena. It was my mistake trusting you.”

  Helena blinks. “What? No, I—”

  “I let you stay in my home. You, a member of the Restoration. I fed

  you, I hosted you, and I let you talk me into guiding you through a

  Delve. And I let it happen! Without any of my equipment! Am I an

  idiot, suddenly?” I rattle everything off, counting finger by

  finger. “And then you ask a thousand questions. You question my

  orders, you run ahead, and I bet you were trusting your books more

  than an experienced Delver. All so you can prove a point

  to your Church.”

  Silence, punctuated by a heavy exhale from my throat. My words are

  shaky, my eyes watery. “That's all your Gods-damned Church does.

  You take and take until I have nothing left to give.”

  “Oh,” Helena says. And, a moment later, “I didn't realize. You

  didn't say anything.”

  “Of course you didn't notice. If you had been trying to trick me, I

  would have noticed,” I shrug, pacing my breaths. “I'm not

  stupid.”

  Not in that way, at least. I'm going to be feeling the wound to my

  pride for a long time.

  With a wave of my hand, Wind crushes down a short path towards our

  destination. The tar-like feeling is still awful, but now that I've

  adjusted I can lean on the Heart's strength for a few extra tricks

  like carving paths.

  “Let's go. Follow me.”

  Helena follows quietly, wobbling every few steps. I match her pace

  but walk in front, pausing whenever she stumbles. Guess she isn't

  fully recovered yet. All the while, I'm eyeing the lump in the snow,

  waiting for the monster to burst out of it.

  I only stop looking once we're out of the clearing, surrounded by the

  bare branches of countless trees.

  Then, among the gently swaying trees, my heart finally begins to

  settle. The rage drains, leaving only shivers and cold behind. Gods,

  I'm exhausted.

  Finally, or perhaps inevitably, Helena starts to speak again. My tail

  comes up, curling a bit uncomfortably around my waist so I don't try

  and drive it into the snow.

  “Um,” she starts, working her jaw. “Are Delve Hearts always

  like that? Was this bigger than normal? Smaller?”

  Oh, so we're not going to talk about her idiotic decision that caused

  this whole problem. Of course not. She probably wants to move past

  it.

  “Smaller,” I grunt anyways, hefting the Heart. I squint at it, a

  bit of scholarly surprise and curiosity pushing past my irritation

  with Helena. Much smaller than usual. Only Depth impacts how they

  affect people touching them, though. I don't say that aloud, though;

  I’m still a bit heated for conversation and I’m not really keen

  on sharing it with Helena in particular.

  It's unusually small, actually. Half the size I'd expect, but still

  plenty big enough to seal up the portal. Size is irrelevant for that;

  no matter how big or small, a Heart is always destroyed in the

  process.

  Not my academic area. Moving my thoughts onward for now, I resolve to

  look it up after, ugh, that fancy dinner tonight. I run a hand along

  my tail, curled around me as it is, taking a bit of pleasure from the

  click click click of claws on scales.

  “It could've killed you,” I say pointedly, a growl rumbling in my

  throat. “Crushed your soul like a grape. And if you'd missed the

  throw, I'd have to expose myself to get it.”

  “But it didn't, and it worked, right? Um.” She pauses awkwardly,

  pulling her arms tight around herself and shivering. “Will I start

  turning into a full Mageblood?”

  I feel her eyes raking across my scales. “Scared, then?”

  “No,” she replies softly. “Just curious how much I'll change,

  is all. If I change.”

  I can hear how her heart thuds in her chest, how her body trembles at

  the words. I remember feeling like that, years and years ago. Scared

  of the future, too weak for the present.

  Part of me wants to reach out and comfort her. The other remembers

  that I can't trust her, that she'll break that trust thoughtlessly if

  given another chance.

  “I was scared too,” I admit quietly, my words suffocated by the

  snow.

  We walk on in silence. The whisper of Wind as I carve our path is

  agonizingly loud by comparison.