A few minutes earlier
Xain led Clara through the twisting alleys of Arcadicia, moving quickly but with practiced caution, his eyes flicking to every corner and shadow. Clara followed close behind, whispering, "How do you know the alleys so well, Xain? It's almost like you've lived here."
"It's not that," he murmured back, keeping his voice low as he checked around a bend. "I just… picture how the city was probably laid out. Most places are built with a certain pattern. And besides, I got a look at the map when we were deciding groups."
Clara blinked at him, genuine wonder in her eyes. "Wow… that's so impressive."
Xain's ears heated slightly, though his face stayed composed. "Uh… yeah. Thanks." He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, as a cluster of imps scampered past the mouth of the alley. They clutched pilfered trinkets—rings, silverware, even a candlestick—chittering to each other as they vanished down another lane. Only when they were gone did Xain motion Clara forward. They darted across the road and into another narrow passage, now only streets away from the guard barracks.
Despite his sharp focus, his thoughts betrayed him. The image of 'Nerissa' still lingered, the way 'she' had looked at him before he and Clara left. Sadness. Reluctance. Almost anger—not at them, but at 'herself'. *Goddess… those eyes looked just like his.* The thought stung, and Xain gave his head a sharp shake to drive it away, just as a roar thundered from the direction of the barracks.
They quickened their pace, but still kept to cover. "Honestly," Xain muttered as they moved, "I'm surprised Elsa let you come with me. Thought she'd pull something like, 'My duty is to protect Lady Clara.' or something similar."
Clara's face colored faintly. "Elsa knows I'm stronger than her. She's just here to make sure I don't…" She trailed off, cheeks warming. "…get distracted." The last word came out awkwardly, her flush deepening. "Anyway!" she blurted, trying to recover, "You'll see how strong I am when we get there!"
Xain nodded, sparing her the embarrassment of comment. He knew enough about teasing to let her keep her pride intact. "I really hope so. Because we're almost there." The clash of steel and the screams of battle were growing louder with every step.
Clara's embarrassment burned away into determination. "Don't worry—I won't disappoint you," she said with a confident grin. But as they rounded the final corner, her expression shattered.
The barracks courtyard was a battlefield drowned in chaos, soldiers clashing with demons in a desperate struggle. At its heart, Bryanard was caught in the crushing grip of a monstrous drakorath, twenty feet tall, his armor shrieking under the pressure. Clara froze, panic flooding her features.
Beside her, Xain's composure cracked, his eyes wide with alarm as he snapped to her. "Quickly—do something!"
Clara swallowed hard, her hands trembling for only a heartbeat before she forced herself to focus. Drawing her arms back, flames surged between her fingers, forming the shape of a bow and an arrow of searing fire already nocked. She loosed.
The blazing projectile streaked across the courtyard, striking the demon's side just as a roaring sphere of blue flame slammed into its other flank. The double impact melted chunks of its armor into slag, the drakorath howling as it dropped Bryanard and staggered back.
All eyes turned. On one side stood Clara, her fiery bow still glowing, with Xain steady behind her. On the other side stood Annabel, hand still outstretched, with Edluar poised at her side, sword gleaming.
"Hope we didn't arrive too late," Clara said, her voice tight and uncertain.
"You all look like you could use some help," Annabel remarked with a small, confident grin.