Hastira's glowing eyes flicked over the group, her molten gaze lingering on each of us in turn. Her jagged grin widened, as if she found our mere existence amusing.
"Oh, hello there," she said, her voice a smooth melody laced with malice. "You really shouldn't wander around in the darkness. It's dangerous, you know?" She tilted her head slightly, her grin never fading.
The chains coiled lazily around her, sliding and snapping as though alive, scraping faintly against the bloodied deck. The sound sent a chill down my spine, though I gripped my staff tightly to mask my unease.
"Do you always introduce yourself like this?" Rowan asked, his voice steady but his grip firm on his lance.
Hastira's molten gaze shifted to him, her grin twisting into something more predatory. "Do you always interrupt a lady's entrance? Such rudeness. I'd expect more from you, dwarf."
Rowan didn't flinch, his stance unwavering. Torran, standing beside him, muttered something under his breath, his expression dark.
Meanwhile, I struggled to calm my racing thoughts. Her presence was suffocating, her aura of malice clinging to the air like a storm about to break. I had no idea what she was capable of yet, but every instinct screamed that this was no ordinary demon.
Still, I'd fought fast creatures before—vicious, nimble predators that struck like lightning. If she was anything like those, I had strategies that might work. A shield spell to block her attacks, maybe even an area freeze spell to slow her down. If I could restrict her movements, I could—
My thoughts were cut off as Hastira spoke again, her voice dripping with mockery. "Oh, don't look so tense. I don't bite... much."
She laughed, and the sound grated against my nerves like nails on stone. The chains slithered around her in response, snapping faintly at the air.
Eryon gripped his axes tightly, his jaw clenched as Moara cawed nervously from the shadows. Susan stood rigid, her eyes locked on Hastira, her expression unreadable but her hand twitching slightly, as if she were suppressing the urge to act.
Hastira noticed. She tilted her head again, her molten gaze narrowing. "And you... you look familiar."
Susan's breath hitched, and I saw her fists tighten at her sides.
"Who are you?" Rowan demanded, stepping slightly forward, his lance pointed steadily in her direction.
Hastira's grin widened impossibly further, her jagged teeth gleaming in the magical light. "Oh, I've gone by many names, but since you asked so nicely... Hastira will do."
The tension snapped like a brittle string. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught one of the elven crew edging forward, his sword drawn. Others shifted beside him, their movements hesitant yet determined.
"No—" I started to say, but the warning died in my throat.
In less than a heartbeat, their heads were gone. I didn't even see Hastira move. One moment, she was standing amidst the gore of Issathel, her molten eyes watching us with amusement. The next, her foot was pressed down on the chest of one of the fallen elves, her glowing chains coiling languidly around her like serpents.
"That," she said, her voice low and venomous, "was not nice."
Her grin twisted into something darker as she straightened. Then she moved.
The massacre began.
It wasn't just her speed—it was the sheer impossibility of her movements. One moment she was in front of us, the next she was a blur, her chains slicing through the air with horrifying precision. Each strike was lethally efficient. A flick of her wrist, and another elf fell, blood spraying across the deck. A blur of motion, and two more were gone before their bodies could hit the floor.
I couldn't keep up. My eyes darted from place to place, trying to track her, but she was everywhere at once, her chains lashing out in rapid succession. The sound of their whistling strikes mixed with the wet, sickening thuds of her victims falling lifeless to the blood-slick deck.
She was toying with them. Her laughter echoed over the chaos, sharp and piercing, as if she relished their fear.
Gods. She was fast. Faster than anything I'd ever seen. My mind raced, but there was no time to think, no time to react.
"Everyone! Gather up!" Susan's shout cut through the carnage, snapping me out of my frozen state.
I turned and stumbled toward her, Rowan's hand catching my arm and pulling me into a tight circle with the others. Eryon had his axes ready, his eyes scanning for a chance to strike, though I could see his knuckles whiten from the force of his grip.
Torran hesitated, his face contorted with anger and guilt. His crew—his people—were being slaughtered before his eyes, but even he knew there was no saving them. His jaw clenched, and he stepped into the circle.
Above us, Moara let out a shrill caw before disappearing into the darkness.
Susan's voice rose above the chaos, steady and commanding. Her hands glowed as she muttered an incantation, golden light flaring from her palms.
The light expanded into a dome, surrounding us and casting the deck in a soft, warm glow. As the dome solidified, I felt a wave of comfort wash over me. The biting cold of the sea breeze faded, and the sense of impending doom lessened.
Inside the golden light, I could breathe. I could think.
Hastira's laughter echoed from outside the dome. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Inside the golden dome, the tension was suffocating. Hastira's laughter still echoed outside, mingling with the sounds of chaos. The glowing barrier provided a fragile sense of safety, but it wouldn't last forever.
Susan knelt in the center, her face pale but composed. She adjusted the light's intensity with a flick of her fingers, the warmth steadying us. "We don't have long," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "This won't hold against her forever."
"She's too fast," Torran muttered, gripping the haft of his harpoon. His knuckles were bloodless, his expression dark. "I couldn't even see her."
"None of us could," I admitted reluctantly. My mind raced, cycling through the spells I'd memorized, searching for something—anything—that could slow her down.
"Speed like hers isn't natural," Eryon growled, crouched with his axes resting on his knees. "We can't just wait for her to slip up. She's too quick for mistakes."
Susan nodded grimly. "Her speed isn't just physical. She thinks faster than we do, reacts faster. It's part of what she is—impatience personified. She moves so fast because she can't stand to wait."
Rowan shifted beside me, the butt of his lance planted firmly against the deck. His calm gaze met Susan's. "Does she have limits? Weaknesses?"
Susan hesitated. "The chains are key. They're not just weapons—they're extensions of her. She controls them, yes, but she also relies on them. Without those, she's just fast and deadly. With them, she's untouchable."
"Good," Rowan said simply, as if the answer were obvious. "Then we go for the chains."
Eryon scoffed, his axes gleaming in the dome's golden light. "Great plan, Rowan. How do you expect to keep up with her long enough to hit them?"
I raised my staff, stepping into the center of the group. "We don't need to match her speed. We just need to contain it."
Susan glanced at me sharply. "Contain it?"
I nodded, speaking quickly now. "I've fought fast creatures before. Nothing like her, but speed always has one weakness—space. If we can force her into an enclosed area, we can limit her movement."
Rowan's eyes lit with understanding. "A bottleneck."
"Exactly." I gestured to the deck. "We lure her into a tighter area, something she can't dash around in. If I can get her into position, I can try to bind her movements with dome. It won't stop her forever, but it might give us a window to strike the chains."
Susan frowned. "That's assuming she doesn't just obliterate your dome on impact."
I swallowed. "It's a risk, but if we don't do something, we're all dead."
"I'll distract her," Eryon said suddenly, standing to his full height. "I'm faster than most people. Not like her, but enough to keep her eyes on me for a few moments."
Torran grunted. "You're fast, but reckless. If she lands a single hit—"
"I won't let her," Eryon snapped. His hand drifted to Moara's feathers, stroking them gently. "I've got a plan."
Rowan's calm voice cut through the growing argument. "No one fights her alone. Thalia's right—we contain her first. Susan, keep this dome up as long as you can. Torran, I'll need you to cover her with the crew."
Susan nodded reluctantly, glancing at the flickering dome. "I'll hold it, but not forever. Make it quick."
Eryon grinned fiercely. "When you're ready to go, say the word. I'll draw her in. You just make sure your spell is ready, mage."
I tightened my grip on my staff, nodding. "I will."
Outside the dome, Hastira's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Done with your little huddle yet?" Her chains clinked against the blood-slick deck, the sound light and mocking. "I'm getting bored."
The group exchanged one last look.
"Let's do this," Rowan said, his voice steady.
Susan opened the barrier just enough for Eryon to slip through. He didn't hesitate, rushing forward with his axes gleaming under the faint magical light. His roar of defiance echoed across the blood-soaked deck, and for a moment, even I felt the urge to cheer him on.
Hastira's head tilted toward him, her too-wide grin stretching even further. She turned to face him fully, her chains swaying like predators waiting to strike.
Eryon struck first, his axes moving in a blur, cutting through the air with deadly precision. But Hastira was faster. She twisted and bent, her movements unnatural, slipping through his attacks like water through fingers. When she retaliated, it was with blinding speed, her chains whipping out in a chaotic frenzy. Eryon dodged, narrowly avoiding each strike, his every movement a testament to his skill.
But it wasn't enough. Even I could see it—Hastira wasn't trying. She was playing with him.
I gripped my staff tightly, my knuckles white. Hold on, Eryon. Just a little longer.
I began to channel my mana, weaving together a spell I hadn't used in years—a Spatial Confinement Dome. The spell would create an unbreakable dome of energy, trapping Hastira in a space small enough to limit her speed. She'd still be dangerous, but without the ability to dart around freely, we'd have a fighting chance.
The mana pulsed through me, coalescing at the tip of my staff. But before I could finish, Eryon's scream shattered my concentration.
I looked up in horror. One of Hastira's chains had slashed across his chest, and blood poured from the wound. He staggered back, clutching at the gash, his breathing ragged.
Hastira's grin widened. Her chains reared back like striking serpents, and she lunged forward, claws outstretched and aiming for Eryon's throat.
"NO!" I shouted, but before I could do anything, a black blur streaked across my vision.
Moara.
The crow darted in, its talons latching onto Eryon's arm with impossible strength. In an instant, it yanked him into the air, lifting him away with a speed that made my heart stop. Faster than even Hastira.
For the first time, I saw a flicker of surprise cross her face. She paused mid-lunge, her glowing eyes narrowing as she watched Moara disappear into the darkness with Eryon.
I couldn't waste this moment.
I gritted my teeth and thrust my staff forward, shouting the final word of the spell. The air around Hastira shimmered as translucent walls of energy snapped into place, forming a glowing dome around her.
"Got you," I muttered under my breath.
The dome began to shrink, its walls pressing closer and closer to her. Hastira snarled, whipping her chains against the barrier, but it held firm. The edges rippled under the impact but didn't give.
But I hadn't just trapped her in the dome. I'd left room for one more.
Rowan stepped through the opening before it sealed completely.
I held my breath as I watched him. He moved with calm, unshakable confidence, his lance gleaming in the light of the dome. His eyes were locked on Hastira, unflinching, as if he was already mapping out every move she could make.
Inside that shrinking space, Hastira wasn't just fighting against the dome.
She was trapped with Rowan. The best monster-hunter in the world.
Inside the dome, the air felt electric, humming with the weight of what was about to happen. Rowan's stance was unyielding, his lance gleaming as he leveled it at Hastira. She, on the other hand, coiled low, her chains slithering around her like hungry predators. Her grin stretched unnaturally wide, as if she relished the challenge.
Rowan made the first move. With a burst of speed that belied his stocky frame, he lunged forward, his lance aimed directly at one of the chains snaking toward him. The clash of metal against metal rang out as his weapon struck true, deflecting the chain's razor-sharp edge.
Hastira snarled, her chains whipping out in rapid succession. They came from every angle, weaving through the tight confines of the dome like serpents. Rowan pivoted, his movements precise and efficient. His lance struck each chain, deflecting or redirecting them with practiced ease.
I stood outside the dome, my breath caught in my throat as I watched. Hastira was blindingly fast, her movements so quick they blurred. But Rowan—he didn't just keep up. He controlled the fight.
Each swing of his lance was purposeful, aimed not at Hastira herself, but at her chains. I realized what he was doing. He wasn't trying to kill her—he was disarming her.
Hastira hissed, her movements growing more erratic as she lashed out again and again. One chain darted toward Rowan's side, but he sidestepped it at the last moment, using the momentum of his spin to bring his lance down on another chain that whipped toward his head.
"Come on," I whispered, clutching my staff tightly.
Hastira's grin faltered. Just for a moment. She spun on her heel, her chains retracting before shooting out in a concentrated flurry, all aimed at Rowan's torso.
This time, it was close. Rowan's lance spun in a wide arc, catching most of the chains, but one slipped through. It grazed his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.
But he didn't falter.
Instead, he pressed forward. With a deft movement, he thrust his lance upward, catching one of the chains as it recoiled. He twisted his weapon, tangling the chain around the shaft of his lance. Hastira shrieked, her glowing eyes narrowing as she tried to yank the chain free.
But Rowan didn't let go.
With a sharp, calculated motion, he anchored his lance into the ground, using it as leverage to pull the chain taut. Hastira stumbled, her balance thrown off as she struggled against him.
"Thalia!" Rowan barked, his voice cutting through the tension.
I didn't hesitate. I raised my staff, opening a small gap in the dome. The shimmering barrier rippled, just wide enough for the chain to pass through.
Rowan grunted, putting every ounce of strength into one final heave. The chain flew through the gap, its jagged edges disappearing into the darkness of the sea.
Hastira's scream was unearthly, a guttural, furious wail that echoed inside the dome. Her glowing eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw something other than confidence or cruelty in her expression.
She was afraid.
Her chains were gone. Her power diminished. To her, this wasn't just a setback—it was a defeat.
Rowan stepped back, his lance still raised, as the dome shimmered and solidified once more, sealing Hastira inside. This time, she didn't launch another assault. Her chains were gone, her advantage stolen. She stood in the middle of the dome, trembling with unbridled rage. Her jagged grin had twisted into a snarl, glowing eyes flickering with fury and desperation.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for.
I tightened my grip on my staff, summoning my focus. With a whispered command, I opened another gap in the dome—this time, directly behind Hastira. The opening was seamless and silent, and she didn't notice. She was too consumed with her impotent fury, too fixated on Rowan to realize the threat at her back.
Just outside the dome, Torran and his elven crew were ready. Torran's harpoon was raised, his stance steady and unshakable. The harpoon glinted under the dim magical light, its tip uniquely twisted and reinforced. This wasn't a weapon meant to kill outright. Torran had something far crueler in mind.
With a sharp whistle, he let the harpoon fly.
The weapon cut through the air with a high-pitched whine, its velocity a testament to Torran's strength and precision. It struck true, embedding itself deep into Hastira's back.
Her scream was immediate, shrill and venomous. It echoed off the walls of the dome as her body lurched forward from the force of the blow. But before she could retaliate, the true purpose of Torran's weapon revealed itself.
From the harpoon's embedded tip, a web-like net shot outward. The material shimmered faintly, a mesh of fine threads that glimmered like spun silver. But they weren't delicate. Each thread was a dense, unyielding line of iron, impossibly light yet heavy enough to hold even a creature like Hastira in place.
The net wrapped around her in an instant, coiling tightly over her limbs and torso. She thrashed, her unnatural speed working against her as the lines constricted, pulling her to the ground. The harder she struggled, the tighter the net became, digging into her obsidian skin with a sharp, metallic bite.
"You bastard!" Hastira howled, her voice a discordant mix of rage and panic. She writhed, her clawed hands scraping against the net as if she could shred it apart through sheer willpower. But Torran's craftsmanship held firm.
As a final measure, Torran's crew stepped forward. From the narrow gap in the dome, they fired crossbow bolts in quick succession. The bolts struck with precision, each one pinning her further. One nailed her arm to the ground, another pierced her shoulder, and more followed, securing her legs and back.
Hastira's movements slowed, her struggles reduced to feeble twitches as the bolts and net held her down. Her screams of rage filled the air, a cacophony of fury that resonated deep in my bones.
Torran lowered his weapon with a satisfied grunt, his lips curling into a grim smile. "That'll hold her for now," he said, his voice cold.
I stepped closer to the dome, keeping a safe distance but observing Hastira's prone form. She was utterly trapped, a creature of chaos and impatience reduced to snarling futility.
From inside the dome, Rowan locked eyes with me. His gaze was steady, full of silent understanding. He gave me a firm nod, and I exhaled. With a flick of my wrist and a whispered incantation, I lifted the shimmering barrier.
Now, it was just Hastira, bound and writhing, her screams echoing in the open air. The rage in her voice was almost palpable, each curse a venomous lash. She squirmed against the iron threads and bolts, but the trap held firm, rendering her fury impotent.
Susan moved to stand beside me. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of her expression—determination etched into every line of her face. This wasn't the smirking, drunk priest from before. This was someone with purpose.
A heavy thud announced Eryon's arrival behind us. I turned slightly to see him standing tall, his chest free of the fresh wound Hastira had carved into it earlier. Moara perched on his shoulder, preening her feathers as if she'd done nothing remarkable. But I knew better. Whatever strange bond existed between them had saved Eryon's life.
Now that Hastira was completely immobilized, we began to circle her like wolves sizing up a wounded prey. She continued to spit curses and threats, her glowing eyes darting between us, but none of us paid her much mind.
"She's mine," Eryon growled, his axes twirling in his hands. His voice was low and firm, the fury barely contained. "She's part of Astoroth's army. That means she's responsible for what happened to my people. Killing her is justice for my clan."
"And you think that's enough reason to take her head?" Torran snapped, his voice as cold as the sea breeze. He leaned on his harpoon, his sharp gaze never leaving Hastira. "You're not the only one who's lost people, boy. You've no claim over her. She's a threat to everyone. If anyone should end this, it's me."
Susan stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Enough," she said, her voice calm but laced with steel. "None of you have a greater reason than I do. She took my soul."
The weight of her words hung in the air, silencing the brewing argument. Even Hastira's snarling quieted, though her lips curled into an amused grin.
"If I kill her," Susan continued, her tone unwavering, "I'll be free."
Rowan remained silent, his lance resting lightly at his side as he observed the scene. I stayed quiet as well, my grip firm on my staff. From where I stood, this demon wasn't worth my time. Hastira was chaos incarnate, but she wasn't Lucian or Astoroth.
She wasn't the target.
Yet Susan's words struck a chord, and as I glanced her way, I could see the fire in her eyes. This wasn't a drunken gamble or a reckless decision. This was something she'd carried for years.
Rowan finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "If she's yours to kill, then be certain of it. This isn't about revenge. It's about what happens next."
Susan stepped forward, her every movement deliberate. She stood over Hastira, who now trembled beneath the iron threads and bolts holding her in place. The demon's eyes darted around, her jagged grin replaced by something resembling fear. For the first time since her emergence, she looked vulnerable.
Susan raised her hands, palms together as though in prayer, and her voice rang out clear and resolute:
"By the light that banishes the shadows,
By the truth that silences deceit,
By the holy fire that cleanses all sin,
I call upon the divine to aid me.
Let this soul be cast into the void,
Never to harm the living again."
The air shifted around us, heavy and charged with an otherworldly power. A soft golden glow radiated from Susan, growing brighter with every word she spoke. Hastira's glowing eyes widened, her serpentine form writhing against her bonds.
"Stop! Stop this!" Hastira shrieked, her voice breaking into a desperate wail. "Let me live! I'll leave! I'll go back to the depths—you'll never see me again! I swear it! Just don't—"
Her pleas were cut short by Susan's unwavering gaze. There was no mercy in her expression, only a fierce determination. I couldn't tear my eyes away. Whatever Susan had been before, whatever mistakes she had made, this was her moment.
Susan extended her hand, her fingers spread wide, and from her palm, a radiant cross of solid golden light began to form. It shimmered and pulsed, the sheer brilliance of it almost blinding.
"May your darkness never rise again," Susan whispered, her voice calm and final.
The cross shot forward, embedding itself squarely in Hastira's back.
The demon screamed.
It wasn't just a scream of pain; it was the sound of pure agony, a raw, guttural howl that pierced through my very bones. I clapped my hands over my ears, but it did little to block out the sound. Hastira's body convulsed violently, the golden cross sinking deeper into her obsidian flesh. Her spikes cracked and crumbled, her movements growing frantic and then slower, weaker.
Her molten eyes dimmed, flickering like dying embers. The jagged grin twisted into a grimace of anguish before her form finally stilled. Her body disintegrated, turning into a fine, dark ash that was carried away by the wind.
The golden cross lingered in the air for a moment longer before it too vanished, leaving nothing behind but silence.
Susan lowered her hand, her shoulders slumping slightly as the glow around her faded. She looked drained, but there was something triumphant in her stance, a quiet victory in her eyes as she turned back toward us.
Hastira was gone, and for the first time, Susan looked free.
To be continued...