Battle sang loudly around her; swords clashing, the warcry of the victorious and the swan song of the dying. The very air sizzled and crackled with energy, a storm of promise which played across Trissia’s senses. This flesh vessel she wore for such moments was tiring, arms becoming heavy as she fought for dominance over the darkness which had tumbled from the gateway. It loomed in the centre of the make-shift battlefield, trees flattened beneath the yawning mouth of darkness which spat furthermore terrors to torment them all. From it rolled icy cold, disease and death and it was truly no wonder the beings which had called it home for so long wanted out. It hurt to see the forest destroyed even further, the war which had been on going for longer than most can remember spiraling out of control. The Demos tore their way through ancient magics to invade upon a land they had coveted for centuries if not more. That was not something Thessia was going to allow.
A vampire surged toward her, twin blades flashing silver in the light as they aimed for her throat. Motions were graceful as she dipped back, dropping her knees to slide across grass which was slick with blood of the fallen. Her own blades lashed upward, the vampire having been forced to leap above her so as not to be brought down. The decision was fatal and Thessia felt the hot, thick blood of her enemy shower her. It was no matter, the blood barely phased her as she rose, eyes darting on to the next foe. War meant growing used to the feel of blood on her skin, growing used to the way flesh would resist for a brief moment beneath her knife before surrendering. It meant accepting these things because otherwise you were dead and she had worked too hard for too long to give up now. Later the would be hot water and bubbles, there would be a time to mourn the fallen and to bury the dead. Now they simply sent the bastards back. The metal disc tucked against her throat buzzed with vibration, a warning of in-coming communication from her squad. It was enough to stop her flinching from the sudden voice which filled her head. Even if it was a familiar one.
“Phoenix,” Hawk began, “We’ve got another gate.”
That however was enough to bring her to a stop. A third in one day? Just the prospect of that sent a wave of helplessness through her, arms dropping to her sides. What was the point in continuing? There was nothing they could do, they couldn’t fight this relentless war any more. Not without help and the Merhites - their leaders had not been seen for ten years. Ten long years which had been filled with nothing but death.
“I’m a little busy, Hawk. We’ve not got this one closed yet. Not even got a witch close enough. There’s too many.”
“Eagle’s been hurt.”
And those three words were enough to have her moving. There was no need to confirm that she was on her way because Hawk would simply know. The fire she kept tightly underwraps was unleashed in a blaze of heat, lighting up the battle around her for a moment before she pushed herself upward. Form took on the bird they knew her for; a brilliant orange against the darkening sky, streaks of crimson and gold through her body. She rose, ash tumbling behind her where yet another set of clothes burned. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered but ensuring her leader and the man she had been in love with for far too long was safe.
It was selfish to leave a battle which needed her, one which had called her way from her squad in the first place but maybe if she hadn’t have left he wouldn’t have been hurt. What had she been thinking? Following orders. He had been the one to order her way, to bring relief to the second gate which had opened unexpectedly.
“Position?”
“Head to Murkvale,” Hawk replied, “You’ll find us.” Which only made her worry grow, fear budding within her as she directed herself west toward the forest of Murkvale. From above you could almost pretend like none of this was going on sometimes; fields stretched out beneath her, giving way to dense forest and woodland. Every so often the scars of war could be seen against the land, burnt areas, dark and forboding where death lingered. In some she could see the white flowers that were laid for the dead in the hopes of cleansing the land, mostly likely by the Elves. They had such fancies as believing they were capable of such things.
Just as Hawk had said - or warned perhaps, now she thought about it - she could find them easy enough. Fire called to her, hot and wild, the kind of fire which had no master or mistress and ate and devoured what it wished. Smoke blackened the air as she swooped down, form shifting and changing. Neatly she landed in a roll, rising as flesh once more though fire covered her in strategic places. Her nakedness didn’t phase her but it did others and to see a naked woman in battle was likely more a hinderance than anything and so she garbed herself with flame, keeping it tight and close. The few things were had been transformed were the communication disc at her throat and her twin swords; both made of metal infused with jinn blood, her own blood and so they were apart of her in their own ways.
Fire flared, dancing around her as she moved, searching through the fight. Now she was warrior, blades cutting through the air and reacting on pure instinct as vampire and demon lunged for her. She whirled, spitting fire and cutting them down so she was once more painted with blood when she found them. Blood covered his side, flowing freely from where the blade had made its home. It felt like the sword had found her too, carving beneath her ribs and straight into her heart.
“Master?” she whispered as she dropped before him, brown eyes wide, searching for life as she reached. Flame flickered and bounced across his features, lighting him up and making his wounds all the more grotesque. The sounds of fighting fell away as she zero’d in one him, nothing mattering but the man who had found her, who had called her forth from the ruby. “Here.” That single word was enough for relief to wash across her, as wet as it was, bubbling with blood. “Just a scratch.” She hoped the laughter covered the sob which rocked her shoulders, a painful thing which rocked her toward him. Desperately she wished to beg him to live, to stay with her, to be strong and hold on but to him she was nothing but the Jinn he found in a stone, nothing but a weapon. So, a weapon Thessia could be.
“Wish for the hospital,” she ordered and he nodded, whispering it against her and they were gone, wrapped up in magic far older than she. That hospital scent of disinfectant whispered across them, removing the odor of blood and burnt flesh. Both smells she would never forget, not in a million years.
“Now wish for a Merhite.” That brought his gaze upward, confusion in his eyes. Her Merhites were gone, forced out of the Beyond and presumably dead. They had never tried to come back, ten years and all was quiet but they needed a miracle. Two wishes would wiped her out but it was needed. Required. “Wish for hope.” His hand lifted, fingertips smearing blood across her cheek before it was gone, the magic drawing her into nothing once more. This time it was like glass against her mind, rending her into pieces. She screamed, over and over she screamed but the wish worked its magic, as it always would. The magic of a wish was beyond someone like Thessia, she didn’t try to understand how it worked because it simply did. It worked and that was enough. Worked enough to dump her somewhere unknown. Piles and piles of books towered around her, caging her in and the shock was enough to keep her standing for a moment before her knees gave way and she collapsed.
---
The weight of the books made her plod through the store slower and slower and Kenley was sure that she was shrinking or something. Or she would end up with a bent spine. It would be worth it though in the end, when she got to sit down with a cup of tea and maybe a biscuit. Or three. She was pretty sure Jorja had those chocolate ones in again and really, who was she to say no? It was simply rude.
Something flared in front of her, orange light rushing through the store and then suddenly a... woman. A woman on fire. A woman on fire in her store. Books toppled to the ground with a thud, narrowly missing her feet as she stared at the very naked but kind of on fire woman who was suddenly in the middle of the store.
“Jorja. There is a woman on fire in the shop. Jorja. I think you should come here. She’s going to set the books on fire! Oh, Goddess, the books! Bring water or something!” The woman collapsed in a sudden heap of bones, as if the ability to stand had been ripped from her mind. “Maybe some biscuits too!” It was going to be one of those nights.