Though the world around them was dark and dreary, thanks to the rot of corruption, the sky was bright, blue, and cloudless.

  And yet.

  The tips of Guin’s ears were cold, and her nose numb and sniffly to the chill. It was oddly quiet as little white flakes of snow fell around them.

  “Achoo!” Drakov sneezed, the first to break the silence. “W-what the...”

  “I-It’s so cold all of a sudden!” Starshine said with a shiver, followed by a variety of colorful curses in response—but Guin herself was captivated.

  It was illogical. Impossible. It was beautiful. It was terribly haunting with the backdrop of the dying, ethereal tree rising up next to them.

  “What is this... magic?” Captain Othren breathed, his breath like smoke in the air. Both his blade and his armor had a light coating of frost that interrupted the shine of his armor.

  What indeed, Guin marveled with him, glancing at Ibraxis, who was scratching the area of his stomach where he had been stabbed.

  “What?” the white garule asked sourly. “It itches.”

  Guin opened her mouth, then shut it again, then said, “Are you doing this?”

  Ibraxis looked up at the sky and winced. “Not technically, but I guess,” he told her. “Considering how corrupted this place is, I’m honestly kind of surprised the effect is as strong as it is. I don’t often die, though, so I haven’t gotten all the game rules down. It shouldn’t last much longer.”

  “You idiot!” BronzePaw smacked him on the back of his head.

  “Ow!” he scowled. Ibraxis sat on his haunches and rubbed the area that she had hit. “What was that for?”

  She continued to glare at him, but the Tea went: “Oh! Ohhh!” he pounced over to Ibraxis’s side, tail wagging as he put his paws up onto his back. “You—you really are an Undying!”

  Ibraxis snorted at him. “And you’d think, knowing that, I’d be treated with just a little bit more dignity...”

  “Try not PKing Guin, and then maybe we’ll consider treating you with ‘respect,’” Drakov shivered at Guin’s side.

  Othren’s armor clinked together as he stood again to face them. “What... What blasphemy is this?” His voice was a low roar as Guin saw fury building in his eyes. “Has the darkness corrupted you so far that you have become such an unholy creature as to rise from the dead on your own?”

  Ibraxis stood, shedding Tea from his back. He shook himself out again, causing the bells that hung from his feathers and tail to chime wildly.

  “Can we kill him now?” he asked Guin, pointing. “I really don’t feel like explaining things anymore.”

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  Eyes narrowing and lip curling, she asked, “Do you ever feel like explaining yourself unless you're giving some kind of lecture? ‘Cause you are sure as hell going to explain all this to me later, you know that, right?”

  “Why would I waste my time on something so pointless as that?” he asked, returning her disgust. “I’d sooner kill you.”

  Guin clicked her tongue. “This is pointless,” she told him, pointing between them.

  “I’ll ask again: Can we kill him?”

  “Two conditions,” Guin said, nodding to Drakov, Tea, and Star. They nodded back and started moving to get into their positions. Tea scrambled to get his lute out and cast his various support and resource management spells. Star flew up out of sight, and Drakov was just suddenly gone. She knew that none of them were the biggest fans of this plan, but she was sure that even they could tell they weren’t going to get out of this mess without fighting for it.

  “Oh?” Ibraxis said, nudging his sister and taking out his bone sticks. BronzePaw rolled her eyes but took a fighting stance all the same. There was an excited glint in her eyes; even if she didn’t want to fight, she was the type that appreciated a good challenge.

  Guin would hate to be Ibraxis later, though.

  Drakov and Star, Ibraxis and BronzePaw. Tea was well and capable enough to trip on his own two feet. Guin gave a silent prayer that each and every one of them would manage to stay out of one another’s way.

  “One: You will explain later.”

  “And?” he asked reluctantly.

  “And,” Guin said, casting [Spirit Armor] and raising her head. “I want this guy’s liver.”

  Startled, the white garule lost his composure and gave her a blank stare. “Um,” he said. “What?”

  “I want. This asshole’s. Liver.”

  Blinking, Ibraxis looked at BronzePaw for an explanation, but she chuckled. “Don’t ask questions,” Paw told him. “Just let the girl have her liver.”

  “O...Kay,” he answered as if Guin had just admitted to having some sort of strange fetish.

  “Are you done?” Othren asked, lifting his sword. The fact that they had been preparing themselves for combat had not gone unnoticed. As they’d been speaking, a swordsman and a spearman appeared at his flanks, and a pair of archers drew their bow up behind him. Between the archers were two others, one in a white robe and one in a purple one, and Guin would have bet money that one was a cleric and one was a mage.

  That’s a lot of guys, Guin sucked in air through her teeth. They would have to do something about the casters and the archers first.

  “Don’t start panicking,” Ibraxis murmured to her.

  Nodding, Guin took a deep breath and opened a channel to the others. “Paw, try to keep the melee fighters in check. Star, cast your sleep spell on the casters and the archers if the area is wide enough. Drakov, you and me will take out the white robe, then the purple robe, then move on to the archers. Star, you’ll focus on Drakov’s target at all times; the DPS should be as concentrated as possible. Ibraxis, your focus should be on BronzePaw, Tea, try to keep your focus on me unless the others need you. Are we clear?”

  “What happens if Paw falls?” Drakov asked.

  “She won’t,” Ibraxis said lazily. “But if she does, we’ll worry about that when we get there.”

  “What happens if you fall?” Star asked with a smirk. Oh, now they get along? Guin cursed in her head.

  “Stop it,” Guin hissed. “Teamwork, guys. That’s the only way we get out of this in one piece!”

  Othren pointed his shining two-hander at them. “Even if you are not prepared to fight, it makes little difference to me. Prepare to die, heretics! Soldiers! In the name of your Prince and the Imperial Kingdom, I, Captain Roger Othren, do proclaim these before us as traitors and sentence them to death. May The Lady grant you mercy in your next life—else your souls be damned.”

  As Guin slammed their comm windows out of her view, they charged.