I run through the vine-stranglers, slowing down only as I hit the entrance to the den with its switchbacks and obstacles. I see the evidence of the samurans attempts to gain entry – the traps opened in the ceiling, poison and acid making puddles on the floor, spiky bits of metal and rock providing uncertain footing, and even strands of sticky danaris web shoved to the side from where they had been hanging to block the tunnel.

  Kalanthia heaves into view, a massive lump of fur and flesh, lying on the floor of the den.

  Markus Wolfe, she greets me, but I’m in no mood for soft words.

  “Where were you?” I demand with a hard note in my voice. She stiffens a little. I pay no attention to the warning signs. “When my people were dying. When they retreated here for shelter and their enemies followed. Where were you?”

  When we agreed to a mutual defence pact, I did not agree to defend all of your people too, Kalanthia responds coldly.

  “And I thought we were past all that!” I almost yell at her. “After everything, I thought that we had got past an attitude of tit for tat. I thought that while I was away, you would help protect my people. Or do you still hold what they did to Lathani against them? Is that why you vanished?” I accuse, my vision becoming slightly blurry. Vaguely, I’m aware of my Bound near me, Bastet urging caution over the Bond, but I’m too angry and full of grief to accept her wisdom. “Are we even allies?” I demand, feeling more scalding hot tears roll down my cheeks as I see once more the broken bodies of our most vulnerable members, now nothing but ash.

  When I blink and clear my sight, I see that Kalanthia has shifted into a crouched position, her lips drawn back slightly from her teeth. She releases her domain and I’m temporarily pinned in place by the certainty that there’s a powerful predator before me, waiting to pounce.

  You doubt that we are allies? After everything? Kalanthia demands, her mental voice a threatening rumble. Perhaps you are right. If you require me to fight your battles for you, perhaps you are too weak to ally with. The power in her domain increases, its pressure pushing down on me even as its predatory edge makes me feel like no more than a scared rabbit hiding from a lion.

  And in my grief, in my rage, that is suddenly intolerable. I’ve lost so much today and yet Kalanthia doesn’t even seem apologetic about it. Like those lives meant nothing; were meaningless.

  I cross my arms and refuse to back down. Setting my teeth, I glare back at her, the pressure between us almost tangible. It’s oddly reminiscent of a Battle of Wills, if the pressure resisting me was charged with Kalanthia’s domain rather than her emotions. The familiarity is reassuring, a pole to cling onto as the ground moves beneath my feet, and I find myself reacting in the same way as I would do there.

  Unable to move forwards, I still refuse to step back, leaning into the pressure and pushing against it with my own force of Will.

  Kalanthia snarls and redoubles her effort. I get the sense that she is trying to either make me cut and run, proving herself the superior predator, or crumple to the ground and declare my inferiority.

  I refuse to do either, sensing abruptly that it’s not only my pride at stake.

  But if I had been just about able to stand my ground before, now I’m barely holding on. It reminds me very much of when we returned to Kalanthia after Lathani triggered a Companion Bond and I had to pull her mother into a Battle of Wills just to stop her from tearing me to pieces. Then, I had barely held onto the space with my fingertips. Here, I’m not crouching to the ground, but the sensation is remarkably similar. And if I don’t find a way to counter her pressure, this is going to end up just like that one did.

  My adrenaline spikes through my system as I sense the danger that I’ve somehow got myself into. Grief and rage are temporarily pushed aside as my survival instinct forces itself to the fore.

  I have to find another way to resist. And maybe my observations of the similarity between this and the Battles of Wills I’ve engaged in hold the clue of how I can do just that.

  I’m convinced that my Battles of Wills, just like my Challenges, take place in some sort of soul realm. And if I can touch and use my soul then, why can’t I do it now? The Pure Energy I touched so long ago proved that it could be injured by substances in this real world; why can’t I then use it to defend myself from Kalanthia’s attempt to cow me?

  Remembering how it felt to grip my soul with my Willpower and push it outwards, the way by which I’ve gained two points to Willpower outside of levelling up, I force it to extend beyond my skin. Not far – even if I have somehow managed to work out how to hold it at all, it’s still far harder to manipulate it than in the Challenge space. But even forcing it to go a few millimetres away from my skin eases the pressure of Kalanthia’s domain significantly.

  The tone of Kalanthia’s snarl gains a deeper, reverberating edge to it and she takes a step forward, looking precisely like she’s stalking prey in the forest. Her golden eyes are cold and intent, their predatory gleam sending shivers down my spine. I begin wondering if she’s actually going to attack me. Is she treating me like another Tier three? Am I proving weak enough that she’s about to attack me directly? But she knows that my strength is not entirely as an individual, but as a group. Is she going to force a challenge nonetheless?

  I was a fool to have come here with only a few of my Bound. Without Windy, we have little chance against Kalanthia’s power. Heck, even with Windy, we would probably struggle, especially here, surrounded by Kalanthia’s element. But with enough of us, we might have stood a chance. With only River and me as true magic-users, I don’t see this ending well. I won’t ask Lathani to fight her mother.

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  My control over my soul grows brittle as I prepare to transition into a physical fight. I don’t want to go there, and fear that I’ll lose everything by doing so, but with Kalanthia looking like she is, I can only see it as inevitable. As she takes another step forwards, I send a message to my Bound to be ready, already feeding Aingeal with fire-magic. The only way we have a chance is to take Kalanthia by surprise is by going full out at the beginning. Perhaps a sufficient showing of power at the start will be enough to jolt Kalanthia out of this mindset and end the battle before it truly begins.

  I feel Lathani recoiling mentally at the thought of a fight breaking out between us and her mother. And then that horror turns into resolve.

  Mother! Stop this! I hear echo through my Bond with Lathani as the shoulder-high black leopard-like nunda steps forward, standing between Kalanthia and me. Unable to see Kalanthia’s eyes, the pressure eases slightly, but her domain doesn’t require eye contact to continue working.

  Move aside, my cub, Kalanthia tells her harshly. I only hear her words through the Bond with Lathani. This is between Markus and me.

  Why should it be? They were my friends too! I liked playing with the little hatchlings and now so many of them are gone, dead as a result of an invasion which you could have helped deal with! You’re so powerful mother, why didn’t you intervene?

  Lathani’s words have the plaintive lilt of a child desperately hoping that there is a better explanation for what they have seen than that their parent is flawed.

  Abruptly, I feel an aching sort of sympathy with her. I learned that my father was flawed at the same time as I lost my mother, and the experience nearly killed me – emotionally speaking, that is. I could never look at him the same way after he let his grief drive him to accuse me of killing my mother. Not when he knew that I would believe him, idolising him as I did.

  Lathani’s words make Kalanthia pause in a way that I doubt anything else could have. I don’t move. Not to relax; not to attack. Jolted out of the haze that angry grief and fear had cast over my mind, I recognise just how out of hand it’s all got. Kalanthia and I were only a short distance away from actually attacking each other; I’m certain of that. And I feel abruptly ashamed at letting my emotions get the better of me. I’m no better than my father – blaming someone else for my own failings.

  Why should I have? It was not my responsibility to care for the lizard-folk. At no time did I agree to that.

  Kalanthia’s right – there was never any expectation that she’d defend the villagers. The den, yes – if she had been here at the time and not done anything to repulse those who attempted to gain entry, that would have been one thing. But expecting her to…I don’t even know what I was expecting her to have done. Not go to the village to defend them there – she never goes to the village.

  Ultimately I realise what’s happened. In my grief, I sought a scapegoat, so I could avoid the responsibility that lies on my shoulders alone. I left my village without the defences it needed because I wanted to go and help someone else. It doesn’t matter that it was a trap designed for me – even if there hadn’t been a force of samurans waiting for me to leave to invade, it could have been a natural disaster, or another Tier three deciding to take my village as its territory. Unfortunate coincidences happen. I have a responsibility to the most vulnerable members of my people and I failed them.

  But mother! How could you just let them die? Lathani wails.

  The pressure of Kalanthia’s domain has all but vanished, our battle interrupted by the only one who could have done so without being harmed. I step forward and put a hand on the young nunda’s shoulder, stroking the fur soothingly.

  “She’s right,” I say gently. “It was not her responsibility to take care of them. She didn’t let them die. I did.”

  But…you were not there, Lathani says with confusion.

  “Neither was your mother,” I point out. “And she had no obligation to be so, unlike me. I was wrong to point fingers at her.” I look at Kalanthia, meeting her gaze and trying to project my sincerity and my regret. “She agreed only to help protect the den, and she did. Even though she wasn’t here, I felt the imprint of her presence in the Earth which aided our Earth-Shaper in preventing the enemy Earth-Shaper from being able to manipulate it. It was I who took the most combat-capable Pathwalkers of the village and didn’t ensure that there were contingency plans in place in case of an emergency. An oversight I’m definitely going to rectify.”

  Patting Lathani’s shoulder with a wordless wave of gratitude through the Bond for her intervention, I step past her, revealing myself fully to Kalanthia. Her gaze is slightly mollified, without the predatory gleam that it had held only minutes ago. Her lips have lowered too, but I can still see that her hackles are up and her body is stiff.

  “I apologise to you, Kalanthia, known as the Great Predator. I accused you unfairly. You have been an excellent ally and…friend.” I pull out several Earth-aligned Energy Hearts. “I know that these are poor offerings in comparison to what you already have access to, but hope that the token of my regret will help smooth over any bad feelings which remain.”

  I’ve been given a reprieve here thanks to Lathani’s intervention. My poorly-considered lashing out put a relationship under strain, a relationship which I’ve had in one form or another since my first days in this world. Hopefully Kalanthia will take these as intended – a heartfelt apology.

  Kalanthia’s gaze is deeply searching for a long moment, feeling like it’s scouring the very depths of my being. And perhaps it is – I haven’t fully released the grip on my soul so maybe it’s easier to see than normal.

  I accept your apology in the spirit it was made, Kalanthia replies, her hackles finally descending and her body relaxing, as long as it is acknowledged that any further such insult will not be tolerated.

  “Nor should it be,” I agree, relieved.

  Kalanthia eyes me with a hint of amusement.

  However, I will say congratulations in developing the beginning of your domain. Maybe one day you’ll be able to give me a proper domain battle.

  “Maybe,” I agree, the thought sending both excitement and fear through me. Maybe I’ll ask her to help me learn how to develop it. But I don’t think right now would be a good idea. “So I don’t accidentally make the same mistake with Raven and offend him too, do you know where he’s got to? After all, I actually do have a defence pact with him that covers the village,” I remark wryly.

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