Disclaimer: Don't own, and glad I don't. Too much pressure.

In Fire by Nathan Yuen

Her body moved atop his in a slow rhythm, trying to savor every moment of their joining. Fingers trailed down the flanks of his body, leaving searing trails of moisture in their wake. His skin was like velvet. The way he touched her... He kissed her back eagerly with light nips on her smiling lips. Her body undulated, faster and faster. The world ran with sweat. He was breathing so hard - or was it her? As she reached the brink of ecstasy, she opened her mouth to say his name –

And then Claire's eyes snapped open.

Reality came crashing down on her; she sighed and picked herself up from her resting spot at the base of the tree. She made her way to the nearby waterfall where she could free the dirt from her skin… and also wash away the slick evidence of the dream on her uniform.

As the water pounded on her back, she reflected on the dream of her and Raki. It wasn't a dream of her and the boy she recalled, no; it was a dream of her and the man he might be now.

The dreams had always been coming since they parted ways, but they had been growing more explicit and intense since the "Spirits of Pieta" arrived in the southlands. Perhaps it was because they were close to the region where Claire first met him…

But is this really important right now? she questioned. She brushed her sentiments aside by slowly exhaling.

The former warrior of the organization stepped out of the waterfall and retrieved her uniform. The Spirits of Pieta were in dangerous territory now, with only one goal: find and destroy Priscilla. The four senior warriors – Miria, Helen, Deneve, and Claire – scouted in a grid search pattern while the three junior warriors – Tabitha, Cynthia, and Yuma – set up base camp. At intervals they would return to get periodic updates from the Dark Silver Eye of the group, Tabitha. So far, she had sensed nothing – but Priscilla could be hiding her aura as well.

So Miria had devised a system – after fashioning several whistles out of a hardwood branch, she parceled one out to each of them. "If you encounter Priscilla, or are in need of help, use this. It can be heard for miles."

Of course, Helen had something to say. "Won't that give away our position?"

Miria nodded. "That's why you use the whistle only in the last resort."

Everyone knew what that meant – a long messy battle where either the Spirits of Pieta would die or Priscilla would escape again, leading to another long fruitless search.

A more favorable scenario would be to find Priscilla's lair, report back to the others, and then ambush her with all their strength. And then…

Claire clenched her fist as she walked away from the waterfall. And then I will avenge Teresa and Ophelia, and all the rest that Priscilla has given grief to. And then I will be free to search for Raki.

The leaves crunched silently underfoot as Claire reflected on what a blessing in disguise their parting was. Though pure willpower had saved the boy time and again, Claire doubted that he would have survived the battle of Pieta, nor would he have been content to simply stay in the northlands for seven years. Wherever he was now, it was probably far better than where he could have been.

But that left Claire wondering from time to time where Raki was, and how he had grown over the years. Surely he wasn't the man in her dreams, though that would be ideal. Eight years had passed – he would be twenty, twenty-one summers old now. How exactly had he grown? Had he mastered the sword, wandering freely as they once did together? She briefly closed her eyes in remembrance. She could almost recall his scent…

His scent…

A touch of the spicy southern wildflower, mixed in with something akin to Rabonan lavender, and the sweet fragrance of maple…

Claire's eyes snapped open. She was no longer remembering; she was actively sniffing the air. It was a faint scent, but it was there.

Raki was nearby. In Priscilla's territory. Which meant he was in danger.

Shoving all thoughts aside, she sprinted forward, threading through the trees rapidly while taking care not to lose track of the scent. Her mind was numb as the trees blurred by her. All she could do was follow the ever-strengthening trail.

Her journey came to an abrupt stop at the bank of a fast-flowing river, where she lost the trail. Frustration nearly exploded from her chest; she would have toppled a tree with a punch if it wouldn't have given her position away. She settled for gritting her teeth.

Five hundred paces downriver a doe emerged on her side of the riverbank, craning its head downwards to lap water from the running river, then up again to regard the bystander. Balefully, Claire returned the stare. I don't suppose you've seen Raki around here by any chance? She asked it silently.

Sss-thuk

An arrow slammed into the doe's neck, staggering it. A second one glanced off its temple, and a final third stabbed through its eardrum. The hapless beast fell, dead before it realized what had hit it.

But Claire had only one thought: Those shots came from this side of the bank!

In an instant she was sprinting through the trees again, zipping through the woods with frenzied ease. Seconds later she skidded to a stop at the edge of a clearing.

Dappled sunlight pierced through the cover of leaves, revealing him in mid-draw with another arrow, like Orion the Hunter. He was taller now, more muscular and rugged, with a determined air that could shatter steel. So different…

And yet she knew it was him.

"Raki," she whispered.

Hearing her, he turned…

And the world held its breath in that moment.

The bow fell from nerveless hands as his jaw dropped. "Claire…"

The warrior took three strides forward, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, drinking him in, a woman returning home after eight years' exile.

Raki pulled away, breaking the embrace and looking down. "Claire… after all these years… I waited–"

But Claire wasn't listening. She was focused on the foliage past Raki, where the bushes were rustling. Someone's coming!

A smooth cream-colored leg emerged from the forest, followed by a body and a face that Claire recognized all too well.

Her eyes were now hazel, and her hair now chestnut brown, but Claire was certain that it was Priscilla facing her. If that wasn't enough Claire could feel the massive amounts of yoma energy rolling off the demon in front of her, contained so tightly that it wouldn't register on a long-distance search, but still overwhelming when viewed directly.

Claire cursed under her breath. She couldn't have found Raki at a worse time.

"Raki, run and don't look back," she said, shoving the boy behind her," I'll hold her off, and I'll find you again; this I promise."

"But –"

"Don't worry about me; just go!" Without sparing a glance backward, Claire brought out the whistle tucked beneath the folds of her uniform and blew - hard.

A piercing shriek ripped through the air, startling birds into panicked flight. Claire smiled grimly – help would be on the way shortly.

And now, to buy Raki time. Unsheathing her sword she advanced in a stride, then a gait, a lope and finally a run and a leap overhead. Claire saw befuddlement cross Priscilla's features when the warrior resheathed her sword. For Ilena! she cried in silent triumph.

Fissures formed underneath Priscilla's feet as Claire came down upon her with the Windcutter technique, blade slicing at the awakened being. Claire's heart rose as every lightning fast strike hit home – then her heart sank again as she saw how ineffective they were. No cuts, not even a tear in Priscilla's sundress. The awakened girl caught the downward slashing blade and rammed her other palm home in Claire's gut, sending the warrior crashing into a nearby oak and splitting it in half.

Claire coughed, spitting blood. It was worse than facing Dauph's biggest projectiles. The sound of footsteps made her look up. Like birds of prey they swooped in. Helen. Deneve. Miria. The Spirits of Pieta had arrived. Claire's heart soared along with their chances.

Miria kept her eyes on her opponent. "Well, looks like you lost the spread, Helen. I'll be asking for payment after this."

Helen cursed. "Damn it Claire, you couldn't have found her twenty minutes earlier?"

Claire rose. She had similar sentiments to what Deneve said openly: "Maybe if you didn't gamble at all, you wouldn't have lost ten beras."

The energy flooding from Priscilla could overwhelm them all, and were they facing Priscilla for the first time they all probably would have been poleaxed with fear. But they had months to train and plan, and so the Spirits of Pieta kept their cool and noted one important factor in their favor: Priscilla was keeping her human form. The plan was already written; it just needed to be implemented.

Miria nodded, and gave the word. "Go."

Deneve and Claire flanked the girl, Deneve scissoring with her two swords and Claire doing another Windcutter. Claire felt the sword sliding across the skin of her opponent but not cutting. She looked up and saw Priscilla simply standing there, impervious to the assault.

Then her arms shot out, each palm slamming into the chest of a warrior and sending them flying. Miria wasted no time joining the fray; she was literally everywhere at once using phantom speed and afterimages to bewilder her opponent. Priscilla looked confused but uninjured by the blows.

"You ready yet!" one of the Mirias cried to Helen.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on! This still takes time you know!" Helen's right arm twisted inward on itself, tension building in muscle and sinew to form the most destructive technique that the Spirits of Pieta knew: Jean's drill stab.

Claire rose, but found no way to join the battle as Miria kept up her one-woman melee. All she could do was stand on guard, ready to assist.

Seconds later, Helen bellowed triumphantly. "All right, done!" She raised her sword and charged, releasing the arm into a furious tornado.

As if on cue, Priscilla found the real Miria and backhanded the warrior's temple, sending her sprawling into the base of a tree, unconscious. With her other hand the awakened reached out and stopped Helen's charge. The sword tip ground to a halt in her hand.

Claire's mouth went dry as the awakened being swatted Helen aside. The most powerful technique that we know – and it didn't even prick her palm.

Claire's resolve firmed; she brought her Claymore out into a double-handed grip. If I'm not able to avenge you, Teresa, I will put all my strength into this blow so that others may find a mortal wound and avenge all of us. She closed her eyes and prepared to summon her yoma energy one last time –

Until she felt a gentle hand placed atop her wrist.

"Claire, stop this."

She gasped, and opened her startled eyes to look into Raki's solemn face. "What are you still doing here!? I told you to run!"

Raki shook his head. "I won't run. You can't do this, and even if you could, I won't let you."

Inadvertently, Raki stoked Claire's confusion into outrage., "'Won't let me?' Raki, I'm trying to protect you! This isn't an ordinary girl! You probably don't even know who she is!"

For an instant, infinite regret flickered in Raki's eyes. "I know exactly who she is." Raki turned and walked toward the girl; for an unfathomable reason, Claire's stomach soured with dread. She nearly screamed as Priscilla's arms shot out towards Raki –

-and wrapped around his chest, her nose nuzzling the crook between his neck and clavicle. Raki embraced her in return, arms meeting behind her back, pressing her to him.

Claire felt like she had stepped off a cliff into nowhere.

Raki looked up at the warrior he hadn't seen for eight years. "Claire, this is Priscilla," he said, and Claire felt a strange tightening in her chest at his next two words...

"My wife."

To Be Continued.

Author's Postscript: I will explain my intent behind this fic when it is concluded in six chapters time. Right now, enjoy the drama and the action.

Sideris, Ikarus Onesun, and Wanderer are more than family - they're prereaders. Thanks guys for all your help! This fic would be half the greatness without you.