"Not gonna lie, I prefer your uniform," Zeke said.
"Agreed." Mòrag frowned at her own attire: olive green pants, a beige blouse, simple matching leather boots, all topped with extraneous pieces of flimsy leather armor. Her hat had been replaced by a high ponytail, and where her whipsword sheaths ought to have been was a simple scabbard for a chroma katana. She looked casual and haphazard, nothing like her usual self. Which was precisely the point.
Zeke, dressed similarly, looked a bit more himself, except he'd traded his usual weapon for a greataxe. Together, he and Mòrag could easily have been mistaken for common mercenaries—at first glance, anyway. All traces of Mor Ardain and Tantal had been thoroughly removed from their outward appearances. Even their airship was unaffiliated with any country, as they borrowed it from a Nopon merchant (it was concerningly rickety, but most Nopon ships were these days). In fact, the only things on the entire vessel that could be visually identified as Ardainian or Tantalese were Brighid and Pandoria themselves.
Two other Blades had joined them for the mission: Yuzu and Sazami. Just to be cautious, Mòrag and Zeke resonated with the common Blades aboard the ship. All of their previous Blades were on public record; doubtless Uraya would be on the lookout for them. So what better way to avoid detection than by using completely new Blades?
Mòrag swallowed back a feeling of guilt whenever she resonated with a common Blade. Something about it just felt unfair, both to Brighid and the new Blade. Aside from the current mission, she probably wouldn't call on Yuzu again. And it was for no fault of her own; Yuzu was probably a half-decent Blade. Mòrag had breathed a sigh of relief when a chroma katana manifested from the core. At least it was a weapon type she was comfortable with. But Yuzu's element...lightning was Zeke's thing. Mòrag had never even handled the element before. The opposing elements of Aegaeon and Brighid were one thing; she understood their mirrored strengths and weaknesses perfectly. But the tingling, crackling electricity that coursed through Yuzu's sword made her feel like a human lightning rod.
Zeke had lucked out with Sazami, who brandished a lightning-based greataxe. But even he probably wouldn't use the new Blade much after this mission.
The Garfont Mercenaries could probably use their help once we're done, Mòrag thought.
It was a poor substitution for the day-in, day-out companionship of a normal Driver and Blade, though. And with any other Drivers, Yuzu and Sazami might have gotten just that. Perhaps somewhere, there was a little boy or girl with potential who could have used their companionship. But now that opportunity was gone, stolen by her own royal privilege. Maybe it was time to redistribute some of the reserve core crystals at the palace. She and Niall would never be able to resonate with them all…
Brighid and Pandoria, for their part, had not protested the new companions—though Pandoria had a laugh at Mòrag's expense when both Blades emerged electric. After all, the two extra Blades freed Brighid and Pandoria up to use their own weapons. Although they'd be somewhat weakened without their Drivers, their independence was a critical component of their strategy.
The plan was simple: their ship would fly them within a titanped or so of the Urayan base, where they would disembark and make camp. Under cover of darkness, Zeke, Mòrag, Yuzu, and Sazami would sneak around to the back of the base where the prisoners were being held. Together, they would infiltrate the base and get Rex and the others out of Uraya's ether-blocking cell. Mòrag wasn't too confident about their ability to remain undetected, though, since Zeke was synonymous with misfortune. To counteract that poor luck, Brighid and Pandoria would move to the forests just north of the base, wreaking havoc of their own, and ideally, giving the impression that the illustrious Flamebringer and the notorious Thunderbolt Zeke were there. That ought to reduce the number of soldiers within the base significantly.
Inevitably, things did not go according to plan.
Mòrag thought she had an intimate knowledge of katana-type Blades; naturally, she assumed it would be much like fighting with Aegaeon. She controlled the water Blade's power with relative ease. Using the katana's sheath as a sort of spigot or faucet, she could regulate the ether intensity of each strike by sheathing and unsheathing her weapon as the situation demanded. Water was a smooth, predictable element. Electricity, like Zeke himself, was not as predictable—a fact Mòrag failed to account for.
"Now, what exactly am I working with here?" Mòrag asked aloud, drawing the katana from its sheath.
She intended to simply hold it and get a feel for Yuzu's power levels by gauging what Arts she had in her arsenal. She did not intend to unleash any. But just as Aegaeon's sheath acted as a control mechanism for his ether, so did Yuzu's. And when Mòrag pulled the weapon out, inept as she was with electricity, she lost that control.
Four different shafts of lightning shot out from the weapon. Two buried themselves harmlessly into the wood of the ship's hull. One hit Pandoria, and she giggled as if someone tickled her. The fourth, however, struck one of the ether circuit lines running throughout the airship. There was a humming surge of energy, building in intensity, until it was punctuated by a single snap. The lights flickered, then went out.
"What's happening?"
Brighid rushed into the cockpit, which they'd left unattended on autopilot to make full use of their travel time to plan. She returned, concern etched in her face.
"The titan's ether control unit is out of commission."
"Mòrag fried it?" Zeke asked, to which Brighid gave a nod.
"A-and what does that mean?"
Mòrag wished the floor would drop out from under her. "It means that we no longer have control over this titan. He's about to go flying wherever he wants."
"...And thanks to that shock you just gave him, he's probably got a nasty burst of nervous energy that's about to unleash," Yuzu added.
"Crap."
As if on cue, the airship lurched, plunging downwards. Its passengers were tossed to the floor. A sickening crunch echoed from the left side of the ship. Had they just collided with the treeline? Or worse? One more hit like that, and the already flimsy passenger compartment, attached to the Titan's underbelly, would be driftwood.
Another crackle of splitting wood. The fragile airship disintegrated entirely.
Dizziness. So much spinning. It was worse than the plunge after evacuating the World Tree. At least then she'd been able to right herself, grab hold of Brighid, and get her bearings. But now, there was nothing but air and tree branches in every direction. Then there was the ground, the sky. But which was she moving towards? And why was the wind screaming in her ears? How high were they? Nothing made sense except the empty feeling in her stomach, as if half of her body had already traveled far ahead of her and she was struggling to catch up. No, there was Zeke, within arm's reach. He looked awfully calm—perhaps falling off a cliff several times made the sensation less frightening for him. He made eye contact, read her panic, and reached out, struggling against the raging air. Then his hand clamped on her wrist.
As they continued to fall, Zeke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. The world went quiet as she braced herself for the impact, but she never really felt it. Zeke maneuvered their descent so his back hit first, taking the brunt of the force.
She sat up, but didn't rise. Just how far had they fallen? The drop felt like hours, but they'd survived. So it must have been mere seconds. Still, a drop from that height could do some serious damage. And Zeke had taken the full weight of the fall. She finally looked back down at him, scared for what she might find. His expression was dazed, and he took shallow breaths. Architect, had he injured himself in order to protect her? She unbuttoned his shirt to look for wounds. Her fingers shook. If he had gotten wounded on her account, and for her own stupid mistake, no less…
"Wow, Mòrag. And here I thought you wanted to wait until our wedding night," Zeke joked, his dazzled expression fading.
Only then did she realize that she was effectively straddling him. Her cheeks burned at the suggestive position. "I-I feared you were hurt. Just checking for wounds."
"I might have broken my pelvis. You should check."
"Y-you're not even injured, are you?"
He grinned. "Nope. But I am enjoying you undressing me. Feel free to continue."
Now her whole body burned. "Please stop flirting with me."
"We're getting married next week. I think I'm allowed to flirt a little."
"Not two seconds after we nearly died! And what the hell was that, protecting me? I don't need—"
He cut her lecture short by leaning up and planting a kiss on her lips. All of her anger, her panic melted at the touch, replaced by a strange sense of calm. Unlike their previous kisses, this felt soothing, reassuring. Yes. They were okay.
"We leave you two unattended for two minutes, and you're already going at it? Sheesh." Pandoria said, rising from where she'd fallen a dozen feet away or so.
Mòrag shot to her feet. "This is not what it looks like."
"The rest of us can come back later."
Mòrag dusted off her disguise and helped Zeke to his feet. "That will not be necessary. Is everyone all right?"
Naturally, the Blades were unscathed, and any injuries that they might have incurred had already healed. They found or replaced their weapons easily, too, but Yuzu appeared hesitant to put her katana back in her Driver's hands. Zeke was sore and a little winded, but no permanent damage had been done. The real damage was to their ship and their provisions; a few of their supplies lay strewn about. Unfortunately, most of the food rations were reduced to unsalvageable crumbs. They would need to hunt or gather provisions. Or swipe them from Uraya's base on the way out.
But first came the matter of how to get there with no airship.
"We'll go on foot. Obviously," Zeke said firmly. "We've come this far. I'm not about to leave Rex behind now."
"But how much further is it?"
Sazami spoke up. "When I last looked at our course, we were traveling at about twenty-two titanpeds per hour with just over twenty-five to go. Judging by how much time has passed, I'd wager that we're within 5 or 6 titanpeds, give or take."
"Ok. Prince, you gotta stop passing on your stupid math skills to other Blades. It's making me look bad," Pandoria whined.
Zeke flashed a toothy grin. "Lucky for us, Mòrag had the good sense to not destroy our boat until after we'd gotten within walking distance. Jolly good of her."
If only she had her hat right now, she could hide her eyes under its metal brim. Or throw it at Zeke. Anything to feel less culpable. "Not for the last time do I apologize."
"Maybe Zeke stores his bad luck in his lips, and he rubs it off on you with every smooch?" Pandoria suggested.
Even Brighid laughed at that—until her Driver's scowl cut it short. "If that's the case, then the Empire is doomed...But on a more serious note, I'm beginning to doubt the efficacy of our current plan. I for one am uncomfortable separating from Lady Mòrag if she does not feel comfortable using her weapon."
"One misfire doesn't mean I've forgotten how to fight, Brighid," Mòrag spat. Her tone betrayed more frustration than she intended.
"And relax," Zeke added, "I'll give her some pointers. She'll catch on quick, I'm sure."
"Let's assume we proceed with the current plan. How does not having an airship affect the mission?"
Mòrag sighed. "The beginning half should be relatively unaffected, provided we can cover the distance within two hours or so. There's a lot of daylight left, and we can't proceed with the rescue without the cover of darkness. It's the return journey that's the real problem."
"True. Crossing that much Urayan territory on foot would be perilous in itself. It's nearly four days' march. And it would be even worse with fourteen of us. Our group isn't exactly known for blending in," Brighid explained. "And with the wedding next week, we haven't much time to spare."
"Awkward moment when you miss your own wedding," Zeke muttered.
"If it comes to that, Rex can just officiate your ceremony. The Ardainians think he's like a god anyway," Pandoria giggled. "And then you can just honeymoon in Uraya."
"Cut it out, Pandy."
Mòrag cleared her throat. "Crossing Uraya on foot is a risk we'll have to take. Zeke's right. We can't turn back now. Uraya has held Rex long enough...Are we all agreed?"
Her query was met by five nods, and within the hour, they had resumed their journey. It was not a pleasant one. Uraya favored preservation of their land's natural ecosystem—an admirable endeavor except for when one needed to cross rugged terrain. The trees here wound their roots into thick knots, making it hard to maintain a steady footing. Underbrush had to be cut through or avoided entirely. And then there was the climate; this portion of Uraya stood deep inland, far from the almost tropical wind drifts of Elysium's shores. That location, paired with the subtle passage into late autumn and lack of sunlight, made for a chilly afternoon.
Despite those challenges, the group made it to their intended destination within a few hours: a great saffronia tree about a titanped away from the walls of the Urayan base. That became, for lack of a better term, their base camp for the mission. If all went well, they'd rendezvous here after rescuing their friends. After a quick meal salvaged from the local wildlife, Brighid and Pandoria headed off to make their own camp to the north. Once night fell, they would draw the Urayan's attention away.
With Brighid and Pandoria gone, Zeke gave Mòrag her promised "pointers" on handling the electric Blade she now wielded. His initial explanation of "Don't try to control the ether; just let it do what it wants" proved less than helpful. Wasn't the whole point to channel Yuzu's ether through each Art? Didn't that require control, finesse?
"You can't be so straitlaced with lightning, Mòrag. Look. Hold onto my weapon. I'm gonna unleash an Art. You focus on the etherflow through the greataxe, see what it feels like."
That single Art told her more about his fighting style than any spar they had. Sure, she observed his Arts hundreds, maybe thousands of times during their journey. But never before had she actually felt how he handled the ether coursing through his weapon. She had always willfully manipulated her ether, as if she could physically force it through a funnel to her target. But Zeke acted as though the ether had a will of its own, like sparks bouncing from one conductor to another. Zeke didn't force the ether to do his will; he followed its lead, locked on its target. The style felt wild, powerful, inexplicable.
"...I think I'm beginning to understand why your fighting style is so chaotic," Mòrag said.
"Snazzy as hell, right?" he grinned. "Now go on, give it a try with yours."
Mòrag took a deep breath and drew the katana again. Her fingers tingled as she did. It felt so foreign to fight this way. But this time, sparks flew in a relatively controlled direction. Zeke nodded approvingly, then urged her to try a few more. Each strike was easier than the last; her Driver instincts took over, and she learned to adapt to the ever-changing ether flow without too much difficulty—though she wouldn't be claiming a thunder-related moniker anytime soon, either.
"A bit sloppy, but it'll do for now," Zeke said at last. "We don't want to wear ourselves out before the rescue. In fact, we should get some rest."
"We're in enemy territory. Someone should keep watch."
Yuzu and Sazami volunteered, and Zeke gave a grateful nod before plopping down with his back against the saffronia. Mòrag looked for a comfortable place of her own. Not as though any place here would be truly comfortable without a fire. But a campfire was a luxury they had to forego for now. The smoke would give them away to Uraya for sure. She shivered. Better to be chilly and avoid detection than be spotted and further exacerbate Ardainian-Urayan tensions.
"You cold?" Zeke asked.
"I'm fine."
"Your teeth are chattering. I can hear it from here."
"I always get a little cold when Brighid isn't nearby. I guess I've become accustomed to the heat she generates."
"I won't tell her you use her as a space heater," Zeke joked, drawing a smirk from his fiancée. "Come here and sit by me...Look, we both need to be on top of our game tonight. We'll rest better if we're warmer."
"I don't—"
"Don't be an idiot, Mòrag. We slept side by side to keep warm when we got separated from the others in Morytha, right? Don't act like it's suddenly weird because we're getting married."
I didn't have any feelings for you then. Not even conflicted, messy ones, she thought. But he was right—she was being silly. So she relented and took a seat beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. His hand suspended awkwardly in the air, as if he was nervous to let it rest against her shoulder. It was unlike him to be shy; how could he shift so quickly from his confident teasing to hesitating?
She rested her head on his shoulder as she shifted her weight to the side, soaking in more of his warmth—for someone who grew up in a cold climate, he was surprisingly cozy. Then, with her own hesitancy, she let her hand fall to his belly. His breath hitched in surprise at the touch, but after one long exhale, the tension seemed to melt from his body. He finally let his hand rest on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her sleeve.
True to form, Zeke had left the shirt to his disguise unbuttoned. But without the thick mass of belts that comprised his typical attire, his entire torso was exposed to the air. So much for being cold, she thought. But his skin felt warm beneath her fingers as she mindlessly traced the indentation of one of his upper abs.
Now you're cuddling with him? Don't pretend he's yours, you disgusting little bitch. Once he finds out the truth—and he will—he'll realize what a poison you are. Kissing him, touching him—you're just leading him on. How can you live with yourself, letting him think you give a damn about him?
I do care about him, at least a little.
Liar. All you care about is yourself. You only want him to give you a child so you can protect this pathetic, phony world you've fabricated to cover for your lies.
I think...I think I could be happy with him. I can learn to love him.
In your dreams, hypocrite.
Please go away. I just want to be happy.
You don't deserve to. And you know it.
It had been a long time since she'd actually talked to the cutting, harsh voice. Fighting it always left her feeling more depressed and defeated than before it spoke. Over the years, she learned to bury it, ignore it, but it always came back. Only now did she realize how badly she wanted it to leave.
"You don't have to stop," Zeke murmured. "Feels nice."
The voice faded into her subconscious as he spoke, but the sensation of guilt lingered. Had he not prompted her to continue, she would have kept still. Was it really so wrong, if he found comfort in it? Perhaps it was, but...She exhaled and traced the indentation again, watching the tiny muscle twitches her touches left behind. Around that upper ab once more, then the one beside it, followed by the next two, back up, back down in a smooth, soothing rhythm. His breathing slowed into a constant, steady inhale-exhale as he relaxed. And somehow, knowing that he was at ease made her breath do the same.
He kissed her head gently, then rested his own against hers, saying nothing. Hours ticked by. Neither of them slept—it was too early in the evening for that—but they passed several hours in tranquil silence. Dusk fell, revealing the pale glow of their Blades keeping watch. Birdsong faded and was replaced with the chirrup of insects. A few nocturnal creatures emerged to hunt.
At last, the sound of electricity crackling in the distance.
"That'll be Pandoria," Mòrag said, almost not wanting to move. Much longer and she might have nodded off for a nap.
"That's our cue, right?"
She nodded, rising to her feet. As their Blades took the cue that it was time to move out, she stretched and said a silent prayer that everything else would run smoothly. The less Urayan blood they spilled, the better.
Trekking to the wall of the Urayan base in the dim light proved much harder than traversing the same terrain in the daylight. No stars shone, and the moon hid behind thick clouds. Mòrag hoped that those clouds held no rain; Brighid was already weakened enough fighting on her own. A downpour would leave her vulnerable. And as powerful as Pandoria was, Mòrag had little knowledge of how well the Blade fought alone. Could she even handle Zeke's massive greatsword for an extended period? The weapon was almost as tall as she was. Currently, however, the Blades seemed to be quite all right on their own. Shouts already echoed from within the base, and flashes of blue lightning and flames tore through the darkness.
At last, they reached the edge of the base. Unlike Mor Ardain, who had spent most of the previous year rebuilding their cities and learning how to maintain industry without geothermal technology, Uraya focused on its military outposts. It was no secret that they hoped to use the preservation of their economy to surpass Mor Ardain at last. Judging by the base walls, they were well on their way to accomplishing that feat—resolute walls of solid granite rose from the ground, nearly ten feet tall and a few feet thick. Mòrag shuddered when she realized that Fonsa Myma might be similarly refortified.
"Damn. Mòrag, give me a boost up there," Zeke joked.
"Fine. But you'll have to carry me the rest of the way when you break my back."
Yuzu looked horrified, apparently oblivious to the running sarcasm. "I'll go first," she insisted.
The Blade took several steps backward before breaking out into a sprint. Her forward momentum carried her upward, as if the wall was nothing more than a steep hill. In a matter of seconds, she stood atop the wall, reaching down a hand to help the rest of her party.
"Mòrag, I know you're agile, but you've never done that. Yeesh."
"It's a stunt I'll need to work on, I guess."
"My lady, you next. Then Master Zeke, then Sazami." Yuzu's voice brought them back to the task at hand.
By the time Mòrag had pulled herself up the wall—with a boost from Zeke and his Blade—their cover was blown. Most likely, an Urayan patrol heard Zeke's unnecessary grunts and came to investigate. From that moment on, everything was chaotic. The one redeeming quality was the fact that no one recognized them as their true selves; the Urayan guards assumed they were common mercs and underestimated them. So without much difficulty, Yuzu deflected enemy bullets while Mòrag helped the others up. Zeke clambered up, and together, they struggled to pull the brutish Sazami over, too.
In truth, no one would have recognized Mòrag as the Flamebringer by her ether-based attacks; she relied on her physical attacks for the bulk of the mission. What if she misfired and hit Zeke or one of the Blades? Not that she really needed to fight much; Zeke's lightning and the Urayans's plate armor did not mix well. Many collapsed in a twitching heap long before they got close. Those that closed the distance were quickly overwhelmed.
Unfortunately, however, the soldiers kept coming. That was for two reasons, both of which they had failed to account for. First, after the confusion of the crash, they had entered the base on the distinctly wrong side. The holding cells were now twice as far away as they originally planned. More terrain to cross meant more exposure to attacks. Second, Mòrag had only planned for the soldiers on duty, hoping that Brighid and Pandoria's blitz in the forest would draw most of them out. But now, additional soldiers started spilling out of the barracks, refreshed and ready for combat. Overpowering those took far more energy and skill.
After what seemed like an eternity—and their arms ached from exertion—they reached the prison building. Sazami took one great leap and broke the lock with his weapon. The group rushed inside, slamming the door shut behind them. Sazami threw himself against it just in time. There was the sound of metal crashing against metal as Urayans on the opposite side threw themselves against the door. The Blade dug his feet into earth, ready to stand his ground and keep the Urayans out. He periodically sent sparks through the metal door, electrocuting any soldier who attempted to break through his barrier with force alone.
"I can't hold them indefinitely. Go get the others!"
Locating the cell was easy enough. After all, it was the only ether-blocking room in the entire facility. And despite the extensive security outside, the prison building itself was minimally guarded. Only one guard tried to interrupt them.
"Let's have a little fun with 'em, eh?" Zeke asked. He knocked on the cell door and cleared his throat loudly. "Hey you numbskulls! Keep it down in there! How many times do I have to tell you?"
The Bringer of Chaos faked an Urayan soldier quite well. In a matter of seconds, the sheet of metal blocking the tiny window in the cell door slid aside, revealing an annoyed Rex. He looked tired and sunshine-deprived, but judging by his face alone, he'd been fed decently enough.
"It's not us, you arseh—Zeke! Mòrag! You guys finally came to bust us out!" Rex exclaimed when he caught sight of them.
"Nah, chum," Zeke replied. "We're just here to deliver your wedding invitations. Postage rates in Uraya are murder."
Pyra peeked out the window while Rex doubled over laughing. "It's so good to see you both."
Mòrag frowned and shoved Zeke aside. "We can catch up and make jokes later, Zeke. We've got to get out of here."
Internally, giant stasis web cells were extremely effective at keeping their prey subdued. Externally, however, they proved quite fragile. One or two blows to one of the ether generators could unravel the web and render it useless. Even without Brighid's flames, Mòrag made quick work of the nearest one. The cell door swung open, and the Aegis and her companions came spilling out weapons in hand.
Mòrag had hoped that the fights would get considerably easier with her friends in tow. But the improvement was not as marked as she hoped. It quickly became clear that Rex and the others were thoroughly exhausted. Their fighting skills also showed three weeks of neglect. They gained three steps forward, then lost two as the Urayans pushed them back. It was slow, agonizing work.
And worse, in the short time they had been inside the prison complex, the looming clouds had opened. The skies poured a cold, driving rain, one that must have been building up for days. In a matter of seconds, they were all thoroughly drenched. The parched ground could not soak in the water, either, so sprinting across the space between the walls and the prison cell became almost impossible. Without the water affinities of Nia and Dromarch, they would have never made it to the wall.
Once they finally did, Zeke and Sazami began tossing their companions up the wall—despite Nia's protests about being "manhandled like a sack of potatoes." Then came another dash to the saffronia tree, which proved far more difficult on account of the rain. Once they finally had the tree at their backs, Mòrag turned to face the base again. Brighid and Pandoria should be here any second, and then this would all be over.
Minutes passed, each one longer than the last. Or so it seemed. But there was no Brighid, no Pandoria.
The rain. Brighid. Did Uraya have ether nets? Was that why it was so easy for them to get out of the base—because the Urayans were too preoccupied subduing her Blade? Mòrag shuddered. The Urayans had been gentle with Rex and the other Blades, but Brighid—the Special Inquisitor was something of a figurehead for the Ardainian military. The Inquisitor's Blade...the Urayan army would not, could not let her off easy. If captured, Brighid would be the subject of decades of Urayan distrust and aggression.
Zeke seemed to read her anxiety. "Pandoria can handle it. They'll be here."
The reassuring squeeze he gave her hand barely registered. "I have to help her."
"Mòrag, you can't—"
She didn't hear the rest of his argument; she had already charged off, listening to nothing but Brighid's resonance. Architect, let me make it in time. She did hear three steps of footsteps behind her: Yuzu, Mythra, Rex.
"Zeke's guarding the others. Let's finish this fast," Mythra panted. Mòrag could tell by her tone that there would be no room for discussion. No protests, no plans. Just get in, get out.
Mòrag tried to swallow down the harsh lump in her throat, but it merely settled in an uncomfortable place in her chest. Her resonance with Brighid burned in every vein, growing stronger as they got closer. Any second now, they'd find the Blades. Their surroundings proved it; scorch marks—from both lightning and flame—marred the trees. Some fires still flickered despite the downpour, more evidence that Brighid put up an intense fight. And they could still hear the noise of metal against metal.
"Get away from me, metalface!" Pandoria shouted. Ironclad soldiers fell left and right around her, zapped into submission. The air stank with the scent of burnt skin. But two Urayans approached from behind, an ether net in hand. A few more seconds, and even Pandoria would be overwhelmed.
Only then did Mòrag catch sight of two Urayans dragging a struggling mass of blue and purple. The ground underneath the captive figure melted but did not catch fire. Brighid. Although it was hard to recognize her in this sorry state, with the golden webbing of the net digging into her skin. She flinched with each raindrop that struck her, and whenever the trees granted her a moment's respite from the precipitation, she kicked and struggled in vain to break free from her bonds. But that wasn't the worst of it. A purplish ichor leaked from multiple cuts on her neck and back. Brighid's right ankle twisted at an odd angle, also leaking the Blade's blood.
Normally, Brighid's wounds healed within two minutes. But with the net, she failed to draw ether from the atmosphere. She couldn't heal. And as both her blood and ether levels reduced, she grew weaker, notwithstanding the rainwater that dampened any flames she managed to summon.
Mòrag swallowed hard at the realization: a few minutes more, and Brighid might return to her core crystal.
"Rex. Help Pandoria. I'll get Brighid."
"Got it!"
The Aegis darted to Pandy's side and made quick work of her opponents. But Mòrag didn't stay to watch the fight. She was too focused on Brighid to notice the brilliant way Rex disarmed a soldier, or how Mythra threw a man six feet through brute force alone. Getting to Brighid and removing that net was all that mattered.
She drew her chroma katana, reading Yuzu's ether. It surged through her, bouncing from one fingertip to the next, then out the tip of her weapon. It buzzed—wild, sporadic, dangerous. There was no point sheathing the blade, no need to put a stopper on that power. Now unrestrained electricity was her friend. Her electric currents crackled and snapped, building in force. Brighid, her one confidant, her friend, as much her family as any human. She couldn't lose her Blade. She quite literally owed Brighid her life.
Mòrag's ether energy suddenly exploded like an overloaded circuit.
It was an Art that Mòrag never managed again; its power stemmed from sheer desperation, from the emotions she usually kept restrained and guarded. For a moment, the woods were as bright as day as the lightning shot out. Afterwards, no one could accurately recall if the sparks originated from Mòrag, her Blade, or her weapon, so great was the magnitude of that strike. But the source mattered not; anything metal within a fifty-ped radius was struck by a spear of lightning. The trees, wet as they were, also attracted the contact. They sizzled, singed, but only one caught fire. Most importantly, every nearby soldier clattered to the ground, rendered motionless by the shock. Any combatants that evaded the strike hesitated, scared to approach lest they fall to the same unrestrained ether.
The enemy neutralized, Mòrag rushed to her Blade's side. Her katana, powered by ether, could not cut through the net; she had to unravel the mass of netting by hand. Only when Rex, Mythra, and Pandoria came to help did they actually manage to get through the tangles. As soon as she was freed, Brighid took a huge gasp for ether-rich air.
Now Mòrag clearly saw the bruises, the cuts, the broken fingers, too. Architect, had the Urayans kicked and beat the Blade before trying to drag her away?
"Mòrag, we gotta get out of here," Rex urged.
"Brighid needs to heal. She can't walk," Mòrag said, swallowing down bile once she got a better look at the broken ankle. It was a mess of blood and splintered crystal. "We'll just have to hold them off long enough."
Pandoria shook her head. "There'll be more coming if we just sit here. We gotta go. She won't heal fast in the rain."
Mòrag frowned. "Sorry, Brighid. I know you hate this, but there's no choice."
She hoisted Brighid onto her shoulders piggyback style. Normally, Brighid vocally protested being carried—as did her Driver, so she came by the distaste honestly—but today, whether from sheer exhaustion or pain, she did not complain. She weakly clasped Mòrag's shoulders.
"Back to the saffronia!"
It was a long sprint back to the rendezvous point, but the Urayans did not give chase. Nia saw their approach, surmised what happened, and quickly set to work on Brighid's injuries when they arrived. Despite her and Dromarch's undivided attention, the process took several minutes.
"Yikes, that's a gnarly one," Nia whistled when she saw Brighid's ankle. "Flesh Eater form it is."
Mòrag felt her heart rate slow as the injuries vanished and the rain washed away the blood. Finally, the pained expression left Brighid's face. Aside from her quenched firepower, Brighid was safe. Back to normal.
Architect, there had been far too many close calls as of late.
Mòrag threw her arms around Brighid, pulling her into a rare hug. "That's the last time I send you off into combat alone. Ever."
"I'm fine. We accomplished our mission. That's all that matters."
"Not to break up your touching little family moment here, Mòrag, but we really gotta get going," Zeke urged.
"Where we headed, anyway? Poppi has internal compass installed. Can help navigate in front," Tora suggested.
"Due east," Mòrag answered, helping Brighid to her feet. She wanted to give Brighid a little more time to rest and recover—Nia's healing was powerful, but it couldn't restore energy levels. But Zeke was right; they needed to escape enemy territory before Uraya thought better of letting them go.
They set off at a quick, almost breakneck speed, quickly putting another mile between them and the Urayan base. Once they were comfortable with the distance from their enemies, they slowed to a more comfortable speed. However, they quickly realized they couldn't let their guard down; Uraya's nocturnal wildlife had not yet learned to fear humans. More than once, a lone Feris jumped out at them from behind a tree.
"You know what, I'll go ahead and lead the way," Zeke announced after they felled yet another monster. "Anyway, can't let Mòrag take point. She's useless in the rain."
In spite of the rain, Mòrag felt a little angry blue flame swirl around the hilt of her weapon before the water quenched it. Did he have to find little ways to irritate her? Alone, Zeke kept his over-the-top theatrics to a minimum. But they came out in full force around their friends—especially Rex and Nia. The former encouraged him with his boisterous laughter, the latter with her sarcastic banter.
"Don't think that a few kisses gives you license to make light of me," Mòrag whispered. There was a very loud, almost choked gasp. She stiffened. "Kora is right behind me, isn't she?"
Zeke nodded.
"Wait, you two have kissed?" Kora screamed. "Oh. My. Architect. We need details."
"Kora, why don't you shout that just a little bit louder? I don't think all of Uraya heard you," Rex scolded. "But wait—what?"
Nia made a loud purring noise. "Now that I've gotta see."
Seven pairs of eyes looked from Mòrag to Zeke and back again. Zeke scratched his head and shrugged, Pandoria snickering behind him.
"I didn't mean—we—it's not—" Mòrag stammered. "Oh, bolt it! You all are ridiculous."
She stormed off, quickly putting a fair amount of distance between herself and the group.
"I'll go watch her back," Mythra volunteered.
"Thank you," Brighid said quietly. While they were all bedraggled from the rain, Brighid looked thoroughly doused—so badly that her flaming hair was completely extinguished, clinging to her neck, shoulders, and back. She would not be much help protecting anyone.
"A very flustered Flamebringer. That's not a sight you see every day," Dromarch commented.
"Zeke. Explain. Now," Kora demanded.
"What do you expect me to say? It's the truth." He grinned sheepishly.
"So you two are lip-locking now? Wait, were we gone for three weeks or three months?" Nia asked. "I mean, we knew an engagement was on the table. But when we left, Mòrag wasn't exactly interested in old Shellhead here."
"…Well, we are getting married next week."
Another gasp echoed through the trees, this time from the entire party—although Kora's was still the loudest. The electric Blade looked like she might pass out.
"Empire weddings happen very fast," Tora said. "What Zeke do to make ice-queen Mòrag like him so quickly?"
"Tora, that's not very nice!"
"Friend Mòrag already not very fond of Masterpon. At least he get gender right now."
"It's an arranged marriage, so it's a bit more complicated than that, Tora," Zeke replied, fidgeting with the cord of his eyepatch. "I mean, I can't speak for Mòrag's feelings. She's always so reserved about them, ya know? Sure, we've kissed. But there's a big gap between kissing someone and actually wanting to marry them. I think she's somewhere in that gap, trying to figure it out."
"Brighid?"
The Fire Blade twisted a sizable quantity of water from her hair. "For once, Zeke has the right of it. Mòrag has…a lot of emotions she's still trying to work through. That's all I'll say."
Kora pouted. "You two are so boring."
"If you're so set on knowing, why don't you go ask her yourself?"
"I'd like to live a little longer, thanks."
Meanwhile, the Aegis had caught up to the Flamebringer, who gave nothing more than a terse nod to acknowledge her presence. Mythra hesitated, unsure if she should let Pyra handle this or just forge ahead. Zeke had already explained their lack of an airship. Between that and the threat to Brighid, Mòrag had experienced a very frustrating day. And even on a good day, Mòrag would have been frustrated by Kora's nagging questions. Could she even take a lecture right now? Pyra urged her to go for it.
"I thought you promised to work on expressing your feelings," Mythra began. "But I see you're still absolute garbage at it."
"Hmm."
"Seriously. Why the temper tantrum? You kissed Zeke. So what? If you like him, just come out and admit it."
"This is an arrangement neither of us asked for," Mòrag replied quietly. "It's a bit more complicated than you and Rex. I'm performing a duty. Kisses or not, I can't let my emotions—no matter what they are or aren't—get in the way."
"That's bull, Mòrag. Woman up and say what you feel. Quit hiding behind the excuse that it's complicated."
"…If you knew what I've been through, you wouldn't view it as an excuse. Everyone I've ever cared for has either left me behind or betrayed me. Brighid and Niall are the only exceptions."
Pyra took over. "So you're scared to let anyone else be that close."
A nod was the only response Mòrag could manage.
"I know the feeling well."
"Please don't pretend to understand. I don't need false pity."
"Listen, I don't know what you've been through that made you feel that way. But I do know what it feels like to be scared of attachment. I...I accidentally killed Hugo and Milton and thousands of Tornans. I caused the deaths of so many friends. It tore me apart. It's why Mythra sealed herself away for so long. So when we met Rex, we tried to keep him at arm's length so we wouldn't have to risk losing anyone we cared for. But I made myself miserable doing that. Please don't do that to yourself, Mòrag. Even if you only have the tiniest sliver of fondness for Zeke—and I think you do—you owe it to yourself to give it a chance."
Mythra emerged again. "Yeah. Get out of your head for once and just do what feels right."
"...Pep talks from you two are simultaneously comforting and abrasive. I don't know how you do it," Mòrag said at last.
"Rex might be a lot more impulsive than you, but you both have the same blasted tendency to overthink absolutely everything...Promise me you'll give your own feelings a chance, Mòrag."
"I'll try."
"Now, can we go back to the others without you freaking out over Kora's questions?"
"I suppose I have to get over my own embarrassment sooner or later."
"She only does it because she thinks you two are cute together, you know. Now come on."
With the initial shock of the revelation worn off, Kora had mellowed considerably by the time Mòrag and the Aegis returned to the group. And it was a good thing, too; there was a more important matter to attend to—how to get out of Uraya. The sprint away from the military base had thoroughly exhausted most of them, especially those who'd been under arrest for three weeks. Even though they were treated respectfully as captives, it had still been almost a month since Rex and the others had fought or even trained. Their fatigue levels proved it. Each footstep was a struggle; if not for Nia's healing, Pyra would have walked home on a sprained ankle. Poppi, of course, was the exception, and the artificial Blade carried her Nopon master about as if he were a giant playground ball.
"Anyone know any Titan mating calls?" Pandoria asked. "I'm just saying, if we could lure our old Titan back over here, we could at least try to hitch a ride on its back."
"A crass and uncomfortable method, but it would be better than walking," Brighid mused.
"Just about any old Titan would do right about now," Rex sighed. If they hadn't been in enemy territory at that precise moment, he probably would have collapsed in an exhausted heap.
"Masterpon, look! Up there!"
Poppi pointed and waved, her arm bouncing up and down even faster than usual. It took a few seconds for their non-mechanical eyes to focus on that grey, swirling form. But once they had, everyone shared in her excitement. A lithe yet draconic body, flesh like stone, a grassy back, and, most importantly, strong, purple wings that could traverse the entirety of Uraya in a matter of hours.
Gramps.
