Authors Note: Per a request I've set up a LOTN discord server for people to talk, theorize and asks questions on. Not sure how much it'll get used by the link is posted below for anyone interested. (PM me for the link, I tried to post it but it didn't work)

I'll also be on frequently if you guys have questions or anything. Happy discording!

Anelisse had been dreaming of an endless sea, a dark, roiling mass sharp with the tang of salt as it churned about, ever searching for what it had stolen from the sweet-tongued liar, what it had bent its very will to preserve. And she . . . she'd hung above it like a star, gleaming white-silver, lighting the darkness below her, trapped in an immortal cage of brilliance as she watched it dance.

It had been the first moan that had drawn her from her sleep, the first low wail that had her eyes widening. Her skin prickled in fright as the sound whispered through the thin canvas of their tent, eerie and uncanny, so quiet that she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined it.

Silence followed, so quiet that her heart thundered too loudly in her own ears.

She held her breath.

Another warped cry echoed, this one louder and much closer, the air hollowing out.

Her body went cold as ice.

Slowly, she began to push herself upright, reaching blindly into the shadows—

"Quiet."

It was her sister's barely discernible voice that made Anelisse jump, Celeste's strong hand pinning her in place as violet eyes flashed like a predator's in the darkness. She felt Gandriel behind her, shuffling her between them, the sound of steel hissing as he pulled a knife free, his body taut.

Silence, such unending nightmarish silence-

The wail rose again, this time keening from the opposite side, the echo sounding in a way that told Anelisse whatever ungodly creature could make such a sound was circling them. A soft breeze ruffled the canvas of their tent, the stench of death and decay saturating the air, the temperature plummeting.

A shiver danced down her spine as her breath fogged before her in an icy cloud. Glancing about, she realized Ithaca was nowhere in sight.

Above her, Celeste and Gandriel spoke wordlessly as they looked at one another, their eyes moving in a way that told her they were planning, and that she was to stay exactly where she was. Her fear was too immense to have even bothered arguing otherwise.

They seemed to argue for a moment before coming to a consensus, Celeste's lips tightening with displeasure. Wherever she was going, she wasn't going alone.

Nausea rolled through Anelisse as the scream came again, this time at the edge of their tent, much, much closer than it had been moments before.

A cold sweat soaked her as she watched them silently rise in tandem, sharing one last glance before peeling the canvas open and, with a steeling breath, slipping out into the night, their steps silent. She held her breath as she heard them move in the darkness, a faelight flaring to light in her sister's hand as they searched.

Whatever it was, whatever it was seeking.

It felt like an eternity before Celeste's voice echoed quietly, "I don't see it anywhere."

"Neither do I." That was Gandriel, his dim shadow falling onto the canvas of their tent as he blocked the weak moonlight, his hand on the sword at his hip.

"Where did it go?"

Relief stole through Anelisse as she released the breath she'd been holding and rose from her blankets, the adrenaline making her shake as she righted herself. Perhaps it had been a fluke, some manifestation of their fears from sleeping in this monster-infested hellhole—

It appeared in her face.

An iridescent specter, milky unseeing eyes gazing emptily into her own, its gaping maw lined with jagged stumped teeth open far too wide as it let loose a bloodcurdling scream, the scent of rot overwhelming her.

Too terrified to shriek, Anelisse fumbled back, her heart racing as she fought to put distance between herself and the ghoul as withered fingers grappled for her, grasping desperately at the blankets as it reached out.

It caught her wrist.

Iciness exploded through her as she cried out in pain and fear, the phantom squeezing her with unfathomable strength. A cold like death raced through her veins, her entire body seizing as though she had been abruptly plunged into a frozen lake.

Crying out, she kicked at it as she tried to dislodge it but only met empty air, ungodly screeching still echoing into the night air—

The sounds of shouting and the tearing of fabric made their way to her as though from a great distance, before she felt strong hands latch underneath her arms yanking her free from the blankets as her sister's voice echoed in a snarling hiss. She watched as her sister charged into the tent, only for the specter to have disappeared once more.

Gandriel's arms were around her, pulling her up and away from the tent, the world around her spinning from fear as she fought to pull air into her gasping lungs. Death, that icy numbness had felt like death.

The pain in her arm was splicing so she clamped her other hand on it, willing the agony to cease.

The creature's touch had felt like a brand.

"Where did it go?" Celeste breathed, eyes wide as she feverishly looked about, the faelight sputtering as she frantically searched the darkness. "Where did it go—"

They saw it then, the blue iridescent light that lit up the far side of the valley, balls of icy flame dancing across the pond as the specter's sobs reverberated through the night air where it stood near the thorns, watching.

Hideous, the thing was absolutely hideous but surprisingly small, draped in what appeared to be a transparent gown, its edges torn and jagged . . . it was female, a hunched female, with fingers tipped in talons—

Celeste had gone deathly still.

"A caoin." Her sister breathed, recognition sparking on her features.

Slowly, it raised one ghostly hand and pointed––right at Anelisse.

Celeste's attention immediately snapped to her.

A growl sounded in the murk as shadows darker than night appeared from the bushes, blotting out light from the moon. The darkness soon manifested as Ithaca, irritation marring her features as she made for the creature.

Terrified, the creature reeled back, screeching for its life as it vanished into the bushes behind it.

"Little bastards," Ithaca hissed as she stomped through the mood, her face set in a scowl. "Crafty little fucks chewing holes in my wards-"

Anelisse knew it should have been funny, watching Ithaca chase such a foul creature from the clearing like it was a rat she'd caught in her pantry, but her fright and the iciness still running through her veins kept her from doing anything but breathing, the lingering cold still making her shiver.

Her hand still clamped down on where the caoin had grabbed her, even though its icy touch and the pain had vanished.

"What the hell was that?" Gandriel finally managed to voice, his arms still locked around her waist from where he'd pulled her from the tent. Even his warmth was doing little to alleviate the chill that had taken her.

Celeste still remained silent, looking over Anelisse with a fear that she had never seen in her sister's eyes before. Stepping forward, she pulled her face into her hands, her voice like lead.

"Did it touch you?"

Anelisse struggled for the word but managed a small, "Yes."

She wished she'd had the gusto to reassure her sister she was fine, that it'd done nothing more than frighten her, but the words would not come.

Her sister's body went instantly taut, nearly quivering as she asked, "Where?"

Anelisse slowly removed her hand and showed her wrist to Celeste. Surprise echoed through her as she saw the small iridescent hand print that remained on her skin, barely perceptible.

Celeste sucked in a breath.

"What is that?" Gandriel asked, peering over her shoulder as he stared down at the mark, his body tensing as he tried to gauge what Celeste saw.

"A mark of death," Ithaca coolly said, striding towards them from where she'd shooed off the phantom, "they mark those who are near or will face death soon." The woman tilted her head, looking at the mark with disinterest. "I'd just wash it off in the pond if I were you, no sense in losing sleep over it."

Celeste whirled on Ithaca, snapping, "We have to catch it, make it rescind its mark."

Terror, that was real terror in her sisters voice.

For she'd been marked to die, an omen of her impending fate-

"Why?" Ithaca inquired. "It would take a full ceremony to get it to rescind the mark and two barrels of goat's blood that I'm certainly not hunting for. We're better off just rinsing the ichor off of her, dousing it with some salt, and moving on."

"You know what a caoin mark means," Celeste growled through her teeth, "and it will be over my dead body that I let it claim her."

"Oh for the love of all things unholy," Ithaca grumbled, rolling her eyes. "They don't actually claim souls, that's all fable. They can just taste when death is near, and considering–" Ithaca gestured vaguely around them, "-where we're sleeping, and that our dear Anelisse is mortal, it's not surprising she's essentially at death's door just by being here. She'll be fine."

"You're wrong, Ithaca," Celeste hissed, her fist white-knuckled, "It's a warning, one we'd be fools not to listen to–"

"And what would you have me do? Go catch it?" Ithaca barked a laugh, a crowing thing of disbelief. "You'd have better luck wedding and bedding a Suriel, girl. It means nothing. All it will claim is her form when she dies." Ithaca looked at Anelisse casually, something oddly comforting in that gaze.

As if one could be comforted with the notion that their form would be taken by a shrieking phantom at their death.

"Your wards were supposed to hold." Celeste was nearly vibrating with rage, looking as though she might bolt for the brush herself, to attempt to hunt a specter in those dangerous shadows—

"I think Ithaca's right," Anelisse assured, willing her voice to sound more confident than she felt. "I think it's just a warning of how dangerous it is here." She shuddered even as Gandriel wrapped her in his extra shirt, the heat of the swamp having returned but doing nothing to thaw her. "Maybe it was trying to help, in its own wicked way."

"You and Ithaca really need to reevaluate your definitions of 'help'."

She nudged gently Gandriel in the ribs, willing him to silence himself.

"Celeste . . ." She had never seen her sister look so distraught, so frantic, as she scanned the thorns that lined the valley. "It will be all right."

The look her sister gave her was anything but that.

"You and Ithaca go no further," Celeste growled, running her hands through her dark hair. "You will both go back to the edge of the swamp and wait there for us. Gandriel and I will do this ourselves."

"No," Anelisse objected, pushing out of Gandriel's hold. "Absolutely not, you can't do this alone."

"And I cannot live without you." Celeste stated.

Such stark truth to those words, such iron will-

"Celeste even if something were to happen," she reached for her sister trying to placate her, the truth dancing at the edge of her tongue, "you could bring me back, just like you did Gandriel."

She was a resurrectionist after all and there was no one she trusted more-

"There is always risk!" Celeste hissed, pain flaring to life in her eyes, doubt unlike Anelisse had ever seen marring her features, "And I will not have you dying on a fools hope that my power can overcome the curse that has been placed on you."

The mark of death the caoin had given her. Yet the timbre of Celeste's voice, her tone…..

Anelisse paused.

At the lie woven into the truth of her sisters words, a flicker of hidden emotion.

It took her a heartbeat to realize the truth.

Her sister did not trust herself to save her should something happen.

To save anyone.

"You will take her back, Ithaca," Celeste continued, no room for argument in her tone, "and you will protect her. And if we don't make it out–" a knowing shared look between Gandriel and Celeste that made Anelisse want to scream, "-you take her and you protect her until her last breath."

A guardian for life.

The slight flinch from Ithaca told her that it had been an order.

"Celeste, listen to me," she gripped her sister's arm, willing her to look at her. "You and Gandriel can't do this by yourselves."

"Then take Gandriel back with you."

Worse, that would be so much worse-

"Like hell." The male said, arms crossing over his chest.

She plowed forward.

"We're doing this together, Celeste, I can't afford to lose you either. Please," she saw the will in her sister's eyes, that unbending steel that nothing and no one could break, "please, listen to me."

Something wasn't right, something her sister wasn't telling her—

She was hiding again, keeping her at arm's length-

"It's an order."

Harsh, cold, clipped words.

A tone she'd never once used with her before.

"You don't give me orders!" Anelisse snarled, tears welling as the residual fright left her body. She swiped at them angrily, feeling foolish for the liquid streaming down her cheeks. "I am your sister, we're family and you don't tell me what to do like some mindless sailor—"

"That's exactly what you are right now, Anelisse." Her sister's features had hardened, there would be no reaching her, no reasoning. "And as a sailor you follow your captain's orders. You. Go. No. Further."

A line in the sand.

"Don't pull this superiority nonsense because some little monster scared you–"

Even if the iciness of its touch still rang through her body.

Celeste didn't reply, wouldn't even look at her as she stepped away.

"I will not go."

"Then Ithaca will carry you."

"Seriously?" the woman inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Ithaca flinched as another order was handed down.

"Gandriel please—" Anelisse pleaded, hoping that he would see reason, would understand it would take all of them to flush out Dermot, that Celeste needed them all more than she realized. The male only looked at her sadly before shaking his head. He sided with her sister, with protecting her useless, fragile, mortal life.

And Celeste would never listen to a word from Ithaca regarding this-

She scrambled for a solution, for a way to ensure her sister did not make her leave her when the morning came.

"If you do this I will never forgive you." A last ditch effort and threat she would have never used before. A petty, small thing, but something she prayed her sister would respond to.

"Then so be it. As long as you are still alive."

Devastation flooded Anelisse as her sister began to pull down the canvas tent, rolling it to pack it. Celeste looked up at the sky – only a few hours until sunrise. "We pack now and leave at first light. Gandriel and I will go to the heart of the swamp and you two will wait on the border for us, is that understood?"

"I refuse—" she willed it with all of her mortal core, with every ounce of resolve she possessed-

"I don't care."

It was like a blade in her heart.

Celeste turned away from her and did not look back.

After three days of blindly wandering the marshlands looking for a specter that had simply evaporated into mist while getting the silent treatment from hell, Gandriel had decided that he never wished to have daughters of his own, realizing that he lacked the bargaining ability to bring compromise between such strong-willed creatures. He'd thought only his aunts fought in such a way but having watched Celeste and Anelisse . . . apparently that was just how sisters were.

And it terrified the shit out of him, especially after lovely Anelisse had all but spat on him when trailing after Ithaca in the early morning light when he'd told her farewell.

He heard the ruthless rustle of sodden grasses and brambles next to him.

And Celeste's anger . . . he'd prefer not to be subjected to that either.

Collateral damage was all he was at this point.

Watching Celeste, he tried not to linger on what had happened that night. The phantom had scared all of them, except Ithaca, half to death. The strange mark that it had left on Anelisse's wrist that had left his hair standing on end . . .

Surely Ithaca was right with her statement that it was a harmless omen, being the queen of all things terrible and dark . . . for once, he wanted to trust her judgment, needed to trust it.

For the alternative . . .

A throaty growl had him straightening his spine and averting his gaze.

He half-wondered if Anelisse was subjecting Ithaca to as nearly as foul of a mood as Celeste had thrust upon him.

"If you don't stop staring at me like I've killed a puppy and strung it up by its entrails I'm going to drown you in the next pool I find."

Which was the one she was about to plunge into.

Gandriel quickly stepped away, a few feet to the right of his captain, mindful of the much deeper and darker pool that spanned for miles on his own right, leading straight into the heart of the swamp.

He heard her splash as she sunk to the thigh into the water's murky depth, feeling the spray as she waded through it. The female was fearless on a normal day but when she was pissed . . . she was untouchable.

A shame they hadn't found the slavers yet, looping about this mushy, foul-smelling, insect-ridden, green mud puddle without a sense of direction. If they could locate Dermot while Celeste was in this mood . . . all he'd need to do would be climb a tree and watch the carnage from a safe vantage point.

He nearly yelped as he slid into a particularly slippery plot of mud.

The place itself hadn't done much to improve either of their moods either, the clearing they had spent the night in having rapidly given way to only brambles and fallen logs breaking the murky surface of the water, overhung by trees so thick the sun never filtered through. Long strings of moss and vines trailed from their limbs like fingers, plunging the swamp into an eternal twilight.

And in the dim light…. every step had to be second-guessed.

With each step he found that he questioned whether it would be safe or if it would lead to another sudden plunge into the frigid, murky, bitter-tasting water that reminded him of rot. And the incessant gloom, coupled with the oppressive humidity and shifting blue-green mists that tricked their eyes, made it impossible to tell whether they had come the same way before or not.

This endless maze . . . it was getting ridiculous; and while not one to ever question his captain's motives and direction . . . he was quite sure they were lost.

They needed a plan.

One that wasn't quietly fuming and sulking as they marched about a monster-infested swamp.

He cleared his throat, hoping if he angered her she'd at least have the decency to make sure he was fully dead before feeding him to some beast.

"Do you think that uh, perhaps, we're, oh I don't know how to say it . . ." he paused, ". . . a bit lost?"

"I know exactly where I'm going."

In a circle.

She was going exactly in a circle.

And from her tone . . . it wasn't up for discussion. He sighed, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, though it did little to dry the humidity beading on his brow, since it too was soaked, as was everything else he'd brought with him. And full of holes from carnivorous plants and slithering reptiles attempting to eat him.

Even his favorite v-neck had been forfeited, snatched up by a large, scaled creature that had tried to wrestle his pack away from him. He'd nearly lost everything to it and could have sworn the damned thing had winked at him as it vanished back beneath the murky surface when he'd reclaimed his pack.

Yet he'd promised her he'd follow Celeste anywhere . . . even into the depths of hell.

He just hadn't expected to face that particular promise quite so soon.

Hopefully his favored tailor could replace his shirt. And boots.

Maybe he'd try a different tactic.

"So, about what happened with Anelisse . . ." From the way her scent shifted he knew he was toeing a very dangerous line. ". . . don't you think that was, I don't know, maybe, ah . . . a little harsh?"

Her splashing stopped, a feeling of death beginning to take over him. No, no not the right words to utter, that was the absolute worst thing he could have said-

"What did you just say?" Oh, that was pain promised in her tone and he'd just given her a ripe target to direct it all at.

Backpedal. He had time to backpedal.

"Uh, that is, what I meant to say was—"

Heat grazed his cheek as something whizzed by with a flash of light through the gloom, something that landed on the ground with a thud, emitting a trail of smoke that burned his nostrils with the scent of sulfur—

"MOVE!" Celeste body-tackled him from his perch on one of the little islands and sent them both plummeting into the murky waters, a thunderous boom shaking the world around them as they sank into the depths.

It took him a moment to realize someone had just shot an explosive arrow at them.

Well, maybe Celeste had known where they were going after all.

Celeste barely had time to push Gandriel out of the way of the arrow that had zipped free from the treeline, adorned with an explosive tip that would have turned them both into flying bits of carrion had they not fallen into the water just in time.

She'd known they were being stalked, had realized it on the first day after they had split from Anelisse and Ithaca as she'd tried and failed to track the caoin. So she had led their pursuers on a goose chase, looping again and again until they believed their quarry was so thoroughly lost they'd make their move.

And so they had.

Furious, she pushed away from Gandriel and shot for the surface, grateful that she'd forced her sister to return to the swamp's edge with Ithaca, even if it had meant cleaving a blow between their relationship.

Better her safe and angry than dead.

She'd find a way to make it up to her sister when they returned . . . if they returned.

And that caoin . . . she had to find it before the rise of the next full moon.

Because her powers….she could not trust them, would not trust them to overcome the curse that even the greatest of magic wielders in history had been unable to lift.

She could only rely on her wits and physical abilities, on what she could control, not on a power that only manifested when it saw fit.

Breaking the surface with a gasp, Celeste whipped strands of her hair from her face, scanning the treeline for the source of the arrow. She cursed, unable to make anything out from the eternal gloom of the swamp enveloping thick bushes, nothing more than an array of brambles and thorns.

"I can't see anything," Gandriel panted, green moss clinging to his sopping golden hair. "I have no idea where that came from—"

The twang of a bow was Celeste's only warning as another array of arrows shot straight for them.

Dashing to the side, she barely managed to miss the bolts. Gandriel had no such luck, a growl escaping his lips as he gripped at his shoulder, the arrow's razor-tipped edge tearing the flesh wide open. The scent of his blood sent Celeste reeling.

Shit.

Another volley of arrows rained down on them, their owners still frustratingly cloaked in the shadows of the trees.

Grabbing Gandriel's head, she shoved it beneath the water before dipping under herself, the latest flurry of projectiles narrowly missing her. One of the arrows hit the water directly in front of her face with a splash, the explosive tip on its end spluttering out. Squinting through the nearly black waters, she reached for the arrow and immediately recoiled.

It was ash.

Which meant Gandriel's shoulder would not instantly seal, and submerged in this filthy water . . . contamination was a risk.

They needed to find cover.

Now.

Gesturing to Gandriel to follow, they began to swim parallel to the island they had fallen from, toward the end where she had seen the pool branch off into several channels with a dense thicket above it.

Surely one would prove shallow and enclosed enough from the rest of the brambles that they could find temporary cover.

Just long enough for her to figure out their counterattack.

Feeling her way through the blackened waters, Celeste sensed more than saw the flurry of arrows that struck the surface above and behind them, their pursuers herding them as they followed after.

They'd have to be quick to slip into one of the channels, then swim to a point where they wouldn't be easily pursued. She risked a breath and heard the whistle of an arrow before diving deep, well past where the weak light filtered from above and down into the shadowed depths. She knew Gandriel followed close behind.

Only a few hundred more feet and she'd be free of their pursuers' volleys, she thought as she spied the trailing vines that reached deep beneath the surface and disappeared into the gloom beneath, knowing that once she passed them she'd have a clear shot at the channel.

A wave passed beneath her, an unnatural shift in the current. For a moment, she could have sworn she felt the brush of fins across her arm.

Shit.

Racing through the last few feet of murky water she shot for the surface, her head breaking just on the other side of the thicket, the array of channels she'd noted the day prior sprawling out before her, a thick impenetrable wall of thorns at her back. Scrambling, she raced for the edge of the island and pulled herself up with a cough, relieved to hear Gandriel do the same behind her.

Panting, she waited for the twang of arrows, ears straining for the sound of their followers' pursuit. None came.

She turned to Gandriel with a sigh and found the male slumped on the ground, gasping, his hand pressed to the wound at his shoulder. Blood stained his shirt and pooled slowly at the base of his arm as it flowed lazily to the water's edge. From the amount . . . it was worse than she'd thought.

It was a miracle the arrow hadn't actually embedded itself.

"How deep?" she rasped, reaching for her soaked bag, hoping that the waxed leather pack of her healing supplies and tin of salve she'd carried was still dry. She hadn't expected to go for a swim.

She knew she'd need to clean it and pack it soon before infection had the chance to set in.

"Not bad," he replied, even as he flinched. Pulling his hand away from his shoulder, he peeked at the wound before covering it again, shaking his head. "It's long but shallow; I think the arrows had barbs on them."

"Poison?"

He sniffed tentatively before shaking his head.

She nearly slumped in relief.

In her fury she hadn't considered that it might be a trap, hadn't considered that their quarry could be more than just a handful of slavers hiding in these lands protecting their coveted leader. Part of her wished she'd sent Gandriel away with Anelisse too.

Yet where they were now, so close to cutting the head from the snake . . . she wouldn't turn back.

A small set of bubbles appeared briefly on the surface of the channel's water before vanishing, sending her senses into survival mode. She quirked her head at it, watching, wondering what manner of creature could be lurking just below the surface.

She didn't want to stay there long enough to find out.

Gandriel, ever the mature male, laughed. "Fish farts."

She could have strangled him.

"Gandriel, fishes don't fart—"

She was correct.

A roaring mass of sharp teeth and gills broke through the surface, snapping at them as webbed feet drove the monster onto the little island after them. Yelping, Celeste and Gandriel both dove in different directions, abandoning their packs as they barely missed the snarling creature intent on making them dinner.

Scenting Gandriel's blood, the creature shot after him, driving him into the thick brambles at his back, its massive tail flicking dangerously as it roared after its prey.

Celeste pried a knife free from her belt as she rolled to her feet and assessed, trying desperately to find a weakness in the armored skin, thicker than wyvern scale from what she could gauge. And not a soft spot to be found.

She hissed as she bounced closer, dancing around the flicking, barbed tail as she aimed her knife for the center of the creature's head, hoping to sink it into the base of its skull. Gandriel yelled as he brandished his own blade against it, a clang echoing as steel locked with sharp teeth.

With a flick of her wrist she sent the knife flying, spinning flawlessly through the air as it made contact . . and stuck. But not deep enough.

Celeste growled a curse as the monster howled in pain and whipped to face her, narrowed reptilian eyes honing in as it shifted its massive body, easily five times the size of Gandriel, and bared its teeth. With a precise flick of its muscular tail it slammed into Celeste, knocking the breath from her and sending her flying into the channels beyond.

She heard her first mate cry out after her just before she hit the water with a sickening splash and plummeted once again into the blackened depths. Fighting to orient herself, she scrambled for any solid surface, feeling the massive ripple of the water as the creature dove in after her.

She fumbled in the darkness, her hands grasping at various bits of soft algae and the husks of rotted logs, but nothing stable. Nothing she could brace herself on.

Shit.

She felt the hollowing of the water as the creature gained on her just as her hand came into contact with a mummified vine: weak, but better than her other options. Grabbing it with all of her strength she tore herself out of the water and shot up its length, teeth snapping at her heels as she emerged.

Gasping for breath she wove up the length of the old vine, hoping to gain enough ground that the creature couldn't reach her. Beneath her, a snap and the sickening wobble of the vine told her the thing could climb.

Of course it could.

Reaching the top, Celeste began smashing her foot into the beast's head, willing it to fall, willing it to lose its grip on the vine that was about to snap and send them both plummeting into the waters below.

"CELESTE!" That was Gandriel on the island's edge, no doubt gauging how to help her, looking as though he'd leap into the water himself, which would only serve to get them both eaten-

Hot carrion breath hit her face, accompanied by a growl fit for the pits of hell as the fragile vine creaked and swayed dangerously. Inches, it was inches from getting her—

What to do she thought, her thoughts racing, what could she do-

The sudden snap of lightning accompanied by a sudden smell of ozone abruptly illuminated the dark swamp, electricity racing past her as it slammed into the creature and the waters below, a strangled howl of pain ringing out as the beast seized, sparks of electricity dancing up and down its spine.

Celeste felt her hair stand on end as a slender arc of electricity brushed her, nearly sending her tumbling.

Willing strength into her form she wrapped her legs tightly around the vine, just relieved Gandriel had managed to hit the target this time.

Barely.

The monster shrieked beneath her, claws digging into the rapidly deteriorating vine. At this rate she'd be lucky if she didn't end up in the sparking waters where numerous disfigured fishes were already floating to the surface, dead eyes wide and unseeing.

She was about to be nothing more than a fried fish herself.

The sharp stench of burning flesh assaulted her nose as the creature finally stopped shaking. She held her breath as it gave a final high and whining sigh before plummeting toward the murky depths of the pool below, bits of static still dancing around it.

She watched as the monstrous body hit the water's surface, sending a tidal wave crashing over all the little islands, dousing everything.

Coughing, she spat the acrid liquid from her mouth and adjusted her grip on the vine, watching in horror as the structural integrity of their little haven descended into madness.

The "islands" were little more than brambles, moss, and waterlogged clay, she realized as she watched them collapse under the force of the creature's fall, snapping what little protection they had into bits. And where the beast had sunk . . . that was a rapid forming, the slow-moving channels combining together to create a fast, unforgiving flow.

She heard Gandriel's squawk as he scrambled to grab something buoyant before he was sucked into the current. Hissing, she allowed herself to drop down the vine's length, hands burning they tore against the rough, splintered bark, and thrust a hand out toward her first mate.

She needed to get her hands on him, just long enough for him to winnow them out-

His hand caught hers, the force proving too much for the battered vine and sending her careening into the water. Darkness enveloped them as cold waters rushed in, sucking them into the depths of the swamp, tossing and turning them as they fought for the surface.

The pull of magic enveloped her as Gandriel winnowed them, sending them flying towards a small island just on the other side of the channel, stable and far enough from the flood that they would be safe-

And immediately slammed them into a floating log, the bulk of the wood knocking the breath from her lungs as she wrapped around it.

"Idiot," she hissed, grappling for purchase as she ducked, narrowly avoiding decapitation by an overhanging branch. "I swear on my life when we get out of this-"

Yet he wasn't looking at her, wasn't listening to a word she said as he looked dead ahead of them, eyes wide in fear. "I think we have a problem—"

She followed his gaze.

"What the hell is that?!" she screamed, crawling up the log and away from the massive mouth that awaited them at the channel's end, sucking the dead fish and the body of the previous beast into its monstrous maw, swallowing them like nothing more than a pleasant snack.

It was ten times the size of the monster they'd barely just survived, perhaps twenty-

They were fucked, completely fucked.

"GANDRIELLLLLLL!"