A large fireball spun through the air, guided by the strong winds before crashing into the dirt. The force of impact, though yards away, threw Lauren off her feet and into the air. For mere seconds, she was aware of the carnage before slamming into someone. Her body hit first, head smacking against a soldier's shoulder guard. The impact blinded her vision before she bounced off him, to the battle ground.

People were screaming, burning as she fell back into the mud. She could smell the flesh, thick in the back of her mouth with the scent of blood and gore.

Rolling, Lauren felt a sword swing close to where her arm had been. She fell back, staring up at the storm cracking above, as a man's boots stumbled over her feet as a soldier drove his weapon through the leather armor, into his belly.

Lauren stared. That man's sword had been frighteningly close to ending her.

"Witch!" a soldier said, glaring down at her. "You should be in the back line with the archers."

She pushing up from the well-trodden muck, onto her feet. Her head still pounded from the impact. "The queen sent me forward," she explained. Repeating herself louder when the winds blew away her voice.

Another fireball flew through the air, crashing just before the main battalion behind her. Shockwave thundered at her feet, through her chest. Damn. They were getting better.

The soldier – because that's all he was, not a knight, not one of the queens-guard, but a soldier – hoisted her steady and lead her forward behind his shield. Lauren watched as he hacked through an enemy soldier faster than she could throw a spell.

Her abilities lied with focus and manipulation. Creation being the product there-of. She was a battle witch. It layman's terms, she was a healer. Sometimes a destroyer but she'd turned her back on those ways long ago.

"Where's your patient?"

"The queen sent me forward," she yelled over the winds. A dark storm was brewing over them. If Lauren had been a betting woman, she'd bet the storm came from the Gredithian mage, rather than an ill-timed weather formation.

"Your patient?" he demanded again.

Across the battlefield, a flare flew up, red and angry before exploding into the clouds. A shockwave thundered louder than the storm, throwing nearby men off their balance. Lauren stumbled back before bouncing into the soldiers shield.

"I'll take you," he said to her. "You won't survive by yourself."

An opposing soldier came forward, a raven branded onto the front of their armor. Lauren's soldier wore simple armor, branded only with a red lion on the right shoulder. He was Dellian, allied now with Lauren's own kingdom, Osmazea. But even their allied forces were barely holding their own against the invading Gredithian kingdom.

They were ruthless.

An axe came down, blocked by the Dellian soldier's sword. Another Gredithian ran forward at the soldier's flank and Lauren's hand flew forward instinctively, twisting the storm winds to fly him backwards into another man's sword.

When she turned back to her soldier, the man was pulling an axe from his wooden shield. His fingers bleeding heavily where the axe had cut through.

"I can fix that."

"Save it, you'll need-"

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped. "Take me to cover and I'll fix it."

He swung his sword, killing a man behind Lauren before turning his attention back to her. "There is no cover, witch! This is all you have."

"So be it." She grabbed his hand, dropping the shield to the ground as she looked up at him. "Cover me," she warned.

"I'll watch your back."

Lauren grunted, focusing on the wound. She could see the bone underneath, white against. But the manipulation of wind currents had been harder than this. Twisting another person's magic to her own will was difficult, but healing was easy. She'd studied it for years.

Loose strands of hair rose from the unseeable force, clouding around her. Static shocked from her spine, down her arms, into her hand, before cast onto the soldier's. The bleeding stopped, muscle growing until the man cried out, shaking under her grasp. "Don't move," she hissed. Then, the skin healed until the wound looked years old.

The man fell limp, sweat dripping down his forehead.

"There, all better," she smiled. The soldier didn't return the smile, only picked up his shield again tightly, swinging backwards to dive his sword into a man's throat. The man gasped, eyes wide as the axe dropped from his grip. Pulling his sword free, the Dellian soldier laughed loudly. Lauren shivered at the sound. She didn't have time to second guess herself. "We need to move there!" she pointed behind the hills, where the flare had been cast.

"Here," he said, handing her over the axe. "You'll need it."

"I do not-"

"You won't always have magic."

Lauren nodded.

His hand grasped around her waist, pulling her behind his shield hand. She was tugged into the battle, the next attack came then, three steps forward. One on their flank and one forward. Lauren ducked beneath the wooden shield, swinging the axe into the flank-soldier's side as her Dellian soldier blocked the forward enemy.

Lauren ripped the axe from his side and swung forward, dodging the flank's weakly wielded sword. The sword flew from his hands as the axe sliced through his neck, spurting blood onto Lauren's face and amor.

Rain pelted down as if the collapse of his body awoke the storm. Lauren pulled her axe free and turned to her soldier, only to see a woman grinning, kicking the Dellian backwards and ripping her short sword from his belly.

"You," she grinned.

Lauren's hand flicked forward, throwing wind and rain into the Gredithian's face. She was higher up. Not a soldier. The woman wore scale armor, and her twin swords were masterfully crafted against anything a foot soldier would hold.

Turning to run, Lauren felt the electrical charge before the wind changed direction and blew her off her feet, onto her face. The mud squelched under her weight, blocking her nose from the stench of blood and burning flesh.

"That wasn't very nice," the woman said, hovering over her. Lauren heard the sound of a beasts growl before a low crunch could be heard. The clang of weapons lessened as people began fleeing in terror, screaming before a wolf howled, eating them.

She was too late. Turning on her back, she looked up at the woman. "Valkyrja," Lauren murmured. A large wolf stepped forward to stand beside the Gredithian, his height equal to that of the woman, with a great, powerful jaw covered in blood. It looked down at Lauren curiously, ears twitching.

"Witch," came the pleased reply from the Valkyrja, pink lips cutting over the title. "You'll be worth a pretty price." Her hand, covered in wet blood, came down and grabbed Lauren's, hoisting her up before Lauren could protest.

The battle witch stared, looking from the dual short swords to the Valkyrja's face. Magic crackled at her fingertips, before shooting back up her arms painfully. Lauren gasped, doubling over at the sensation. Did she do that?

The woman smiled, baring her teeth. Lauren refused to flinch.

The attack was quick, the woman kicked her belly, throwing Lauren's backwards onto the ground before she was kicked over. Lauren groaned just as the Valkyrja picked her up and tossed her over the wolf's back. She tried to move, preparing to drop herself backwards before her own magic seized her limbs.

She felt the woman climb onto the wolf beside her, a bare hand holding her steady on the wolf. Lauren screamed out as a a shock was sent through her spine. Vaguely, Lauren was aware of movement, of a gold flare been thrown into the air, blowing up and sending sparks of magic down into the earth.

Danger, the message read. Fall back.

"Trust me, this is a battle you do not want to be here for."

The woman lent over Lauren's body, holding her firm as the wolf leapt over soldiers. She bobbed up and down on the back, the earth falling away before rising close to her face. She could see men and women fleeing from the wolf, horses being guided away. Lauren felt the wolf lunge then heard the unmistakable desperate cry of terror as-

Crunch.

The woman laughed, patting Lauren's back. "Hear that?"

In the distance, a great, unmistakable roar rang through. Lauren would have flinched if she'd had the ability. Dragons.

"Maelthra's queen sent us that pretty prize, in return for half the land won and an alliance that no peace treaty could beat. Your people are going to be slaughtered, witch."

Water spilled down her cheeks as she watched the blur of soldiers, the incoming tents of Gredithian's army. The beast slowed as the woman sat up and climbed off the beast. Lauren slid backwards, her limbs relaxing as she fell into the mud.

"It'll wear off," the woman said. She lifted her up again, pulling Lauren onto her feet.

"Am I…?"

"What, going to die? Maybe," the woman laughed in her ear, pushing her into a soldier's arms. "Take her to Alivia, she'll want to see her."

The woman turned away then, smirking as Lauren was half-carried by the soldier past the rows and rows of tents, many of which carried the black raven on white sigil. Bannerman stalked past her, eyeing her plain armor. A crane flower should have been branded on her shoulder guard, and if she'd worn her robes, the sigil would be sown over her chest in gold on green material.

However, Lauren deemed even her battle robes impractical. They were light, yes, but easily torn and offering no additional protection. Generally, the mages from the colleges, would keep back with the arches. But Lauren wasn't a mage hopped up on pixy dust. Her birthright had been witchcraft, she could spindle magic inside of her.

Except, she couldn't. Lauren gasped, searching for the spark inside of her. She could feel it, it was there, but withheld from her. Lauren stumbled, terrified. The Valkyrja had blocked her gift from her somehow.

That was impossible! It should have been impossible. No, no, no!

The soldier muttered something in Gredithian, laughing at her. "Give it back!" she demanded, "Give me back my-"

A white tent was opened and Lauren was thrown inside before she could understand what happened. On her hands and knees, she looked down to her wrist and saw the cause of her panic. A bracelet. Only metal forged in dragon fire could block magic so well. The craftsmanship needed was so limited on top of the danger, very few were willing to do it, less capable.

The Valkyrja must have snapped it on when she'd been paralyzed.

"Lauren." Her head snapped up at the voice to see a knight strewn across the ground, beaten beyond recognition and half his armor removed.

"Dyson?"

He coughed, blood spitting out. Lauren moved, before remembering the bracelet. On her knees, she tugged at the metal, twisting and pulled. The runes glowed hot in warning, heating dangerously, the more she pulled. Letting go, the bracelet cooled again as if nothing happened.

"Dyson...I...I can't," she said. "I can't heal you."

A grunt came, spluttered with a cough before a red smile gleamed at her. Lauren laughed, sniffing before the sound of boot steps on wood caught her attention.

A woman came through, dressed in crimson with long, blonde hair shades darker than Lauren's own. Hers, however, fell to her waist in soft ringlets. A silver circlet sat on her forehead, marked with a strange pattern.

She spoke quickly, her language foreign to Lauren's. With a sharp gesture to Dyson, two men came and dragged Dyson away.

"Heal him!" Lauren demanded. "Please, heal him and I'll do whatever you want."

The woman looked at her, arching a single eyebrow before she turned to a wooden throne and sat herself upon it. She said something else and men grabbed Lauren lifting her onto her feet before pulling her closer to the woman's throne.

"Will you heal him?" she asked.

"I may," she replied. "If you show your worth."

She murmured a few words to a soldier, Lauren looked to him, watching as he left the tent.

"I sent for my husband," she informed her at the curious look. "Tamsin is standing guard, so she will come with."

"Tamsin?"

"The Valkyrja."

Lauren nodded, swallowing. The woman had a name now. "Will you heal Dyson?"

"If he is alive when my husband dismisses you, Tamsin will you take you to him. She will...watch you heal him. You can do nothing more."

Lauren sat in silence, staring from the trodden tent floor, to the wall. Blood sat in droplets and soft splatters, but nothing that implied Dyson had been beaten here. Sighing, she closed her eyes and prayed to the Creator of All.

The woman's husband came, dressed not unlike his soldier. He moved to stand before Lauren, grabbing her jaw, to her displeasure, and looking at her left and right. He murmured something to Alivia, a conversation sparked between them.

"They're discussing if you're the one they wanted."

Lauren turned to see the Valkyrja, Tamsin, standing next to her. Blood had been cleaned from her face and hands, though Lauren could still see splatters over her armor.

"Who else could they want?"

"A halfbreed."

"Ciara."

Tamsin nodded.

"You won't find her. She's with Bo."

"Ah yes, we know all about that. She's the one who sent the flares."

Alivia looked away from her husband, turning to speak to Tamsin. Tamsin placed a fist over her heart and bowed briefly before grabbing Lauren's shoulder.

"Tell me where's we're going first," Lauren demanded, resisting the woman's strength. The Valkyrja sighed and sent a swift kick to Lauren, knocking her backwards. Lauren stared up, stunned as she tried to breathe. The woman came forward and threw her over her shoulder before walking on. Lauren groaned as the shoulder guard dug in to her already tender abdomen.

"Troll whore," she said as the Valkyrja adjusted her.

"Banshee cunt."

"Ogre's bastard."

"Fury."

"Dragon dung."

"That's just childish," Tamsin snorted.

"Screw you!" Lauren tried to kick out, struggling before a hand clutched over her leg, sending another, infuriating shock. Lauren's limbs dropped and she was left dangling over the shoulder, motionless.

"Isn't the definition of insanity repeating the same thing over again, expecting a different result?" Tamsin laughed, adjusting her, "Don't worry, witch. This is the beginning of something fun."

Lauren swayed over the shoulder, eyes lifting up to watch the people walk. Men laughed over their ale, wounds bandaged as they sat on logs. Others held a map between them, discussing plans over a table as a messenger ran between groups. The tents were alive, filled with people as if the battle hadn't begun last night.

Lauren choked, her mouth shaking as she watched the ease. The scent of waste could be smelt, vivid even with camp fires, but it was as if nothing could affect them. How could they be so callous to their own people dying?

Tamsin dropped Lauren onto the ground, opening up a cage door and shoving her inside.

"There," she said, unlocking the bracelet. "Heal your fallen soldier."

Lauren turned, confused before spotting the heap. Dyson, she realised. Rushing forward on her hands and knees, she grabbed at him. Her fingers unclasped the armor, pulling it away piece by piece until she could find the wounds.

"Dyson?" She listened for breathing, relieved when she found it. Shallow, but existanting. She could do the rest.

Lauren's eyes ran over the length of his mostly bare body. He had internal bleeding, broken ribs and dark bruises. Slashes where different weapons had hit him, grazes where shields had crushed his armor. He shouldn't be alive.

"You're lucky," she murmured, hand spreading flat over the major injuries. "If you weren't a shifter…" She didn't think on the rest.

Her eyes shut, head rolling back as she breathed in. The air hissed around her.

Emerald spindled in her mind, glowing and crackling like lighting. It gushed forward like a river, spreading from her hands and tearing down through Dyson's being.

The shifter cried out, awakening with a large gasp. Lauren pushed, struggling to hold him down as she tore through his skin, searing his wounds before sewing up the veins the best she could. He was low on blood, but Dyson breathed, bringing oxygen into his blood, pounded through with a strong heart. It was easy enough to add blood, create and flow it through his veins now the wounds were healing.

Dyson slipped back into unconsciousness as Lauren snapped bones into place, sealing them the best she could as her the magic depleted inside of her.

Her lungs burned, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Lauren fell back, falling unconscious against something soft as the last of her energy disappeared.

Somewhere, a soldier died to save Dyson. She just hoped they weren't important.