A tremor of rage, sharp and sudden, shook Mola from her post-battle haze. It was a familiar fire, a welcome anchor in the ocean of fear and grief she had been sinking in.

  Mola: "A t-test...?! IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE TO YOU?!"

  She closed the distance between them, her boots scuffing in the blood-stained dust.

  Mola: "You're supposed to be the clever one! That could have gone horribly, HORRIBLY wrong!"

  A faint, almost cruel smile touched Xayn's lips. It was an unsettling expression on his new face, a mirage of the ancient, cold being beneath the stolen flesh.

  Xayn: "Glad to see you've got some of that fire back. Breathe, Mola... We would have intervened before things escalated."

  Bazren, kneeling by a corpse and methodically patting it down for valuables, let out a derisive snort.

  Bazren: "'We'? I wouldn't have lifted a finger. You were the one that supposedly had a plan..."

  Xayn shrugged, the movement casual, nonchalant, and utterly infuriating.

  Xayn: "Well, I would have signalled you somehow."

  Mola's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She took a deep, shuddering breath, the effort visible in the slight trembling of her shoulders.

  Mola: "Enough of this. Enough of treating me like I'm some kind of reckless cub! I told you, I can control it."

  Her words were a desperate boast, an attempt to convince herself as much as them.

  Xayn's smile faded, his gaze turning analytical.

  Xayn: "One thing is certain -- you can at least refrain from using dark magic when provoked. That is... a start. Now..."

  He turned his attention to the road winding ahead, a scar of brown earth through the vibrant green.

  Xayn: "How much longer until we reach the city?"

  Mola crossed her arms, a protective gesture. The violet power that had surged through her had left a deep, resonant ache in its wake, a phantom limb of power.

  Mola: "Three more hours, give or take..."

  Xayn: "You seem tired. Should we rest?"

  She shook her head, the movement sharp, dismissive.

  Mola: "... Not yet. There is an inn not far from here, we should reach it before long. We can stop then."

  Xayn nodded, accepting her answer. He glanced over at Bazren.

  Xayn: "Very well. Bazren, find anything?"

  She shot him a predatory look over her shoulder, her pink eyes glinting.

  Bazren: "I don't know. If only there were two extra pairs of idle hands that could help me look...!"

  Xayn raised his hands in a gesture of placating apology.

  Xayn: "Say no more..."

  He knelt beside another corpse, his movements pragmatic, detached. Mola watched, a flicker of disgust twisting her features.

  Xayn: "Come now, Mola. We have no coin to our names. We should be able to find some gold, at least."

  Mola: "No, thank you. Ransacking cadavers is not something I'm particularly fond of. Besides..."

  She patted a small, concealed pouch at her waist. The faint, muffled clinking of coins was a small, satisfying victory.

  Mola: "... Speak for yourselves. I have coin."

  Bazren glared at her, then held up the now unfolded, sweat-stained pamphlet she'd pulled from the first bandit's tunic.

  Bazren: "Well, since you're too damn fancy to help us out... here. Care to read the fine print out loud for me?"

  Mola took the offered document. Unlike the tattered one from the tower, this one was more complete. She scanned the crude text, her expression carefully neutral. A beat of silence.

  Mola: "... 'No wizards, witches, or magic users of any kind. Contestants must use the weapons provided in the arena. Failure to comply can result in punishment ranging from immediate disqualification to...'"

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  She sighed, a perfect performance of weary boredom.

  Mola: "... 'trial by combat.' Ugh, so what?"

  She crumpled the pamphlet into a tight ball and tossed it aside into the tall grass.

  Mola: "Big deal."

  Bazren's answering laugh was sharp, laced with venom.

  Bazren: "Oh, big deal indeed. Care to explain how the fuck two undead are supposed to compete in a tournament where no magic is allowed?! We'll be thrown out before it even starts!"

  Mola shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

  Mola: "I fail to see why. As far as any regular human is concerned, you two are no different from them. Just be sure to keep your glowing eyes and summoned weapons in check... you should be fine."

  Xayn's voice was dangerously quiet.

  Xayn: "... Did you already know of these restrictions, Mola?"

  She crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on a distant cloud.

  Mola: "Sure."

  Xayn: "And you didn't think it wise to so much as warn us beforehand...?"

  A flicker of panic sparked behind her eyes, her composure fraying.

  Mola: "I-I didn't think it necessary, because of what I just explained! Ugh, didn't take you two for such crybabies! So what, you cannot use your special weapons and abilities. What does it matter? Bazren crushed a bandit's skull with her bare hands. You really think you'll lose...?"

  Xayn shook his head, his calm infuriating.

  Xayn: "It's not winning or losing that concerns me. It's what could happen if anyone discovered we aren't like them."

  Mola pinched the bridge of her nose, her brow furrowing with feigned stress.

  Mola: "So let me get this straight. You two really thought you could just join a human tournament and exploit your unnatural powers to gain an unfair advantage...?"

  Bazren roared, the sound raw and inhuman as she rose from the corpse she was searching, her face twisting in fury.

  Bazren: "STOP PLAYING DUMB! We thought we were joining a tournament where the only rule was to *win*. To 'be the last one standing' The torn pamphlet we found seemed to imply as much!"

  Mola: "Well, it's your fault for assuming. I never said that."

  Bazren took a menacing step forward, her fists clenched.

  Bazren: "No. As a matter of fact, you said very damn little about it! All this talk of trust, and this is the kind of shit we can expect from you?!"

  Mola's heart hammered against her ribs. Standing up to bandits was one thing. But Bazren... that was something else entirely.

  Mola: "A-alright, fine. Fine! Calm down... I suppose I could have provided more details. So what?! I've said it twice before, the reason I didn't was because I thought it unimportant."

  Bazren: "Tch. 'Unimportant'..."

  Xayn stood, having finished looting his corpse, his expression grim.

  Xayn: "What's done is done. Even knowing this, if our path truly is to fight in the tournament... I believe we can pull it off. Of course, that is if there is nothing else you're innocently *omitting* from us, Mola..."

  Annoyed, Mola shook her head.

  Mola: "No, I'm *not*. The Grand Melee is typically for close quarters combat, as the name would suggest. Bows and other thrown weapons are allowed. On the other hand, magic is forbidden. To ensure that the fights are as fair as possible, contestants are not allowed to use their own weapons or armour. That's all I know. Happy?"

  Bazren squinted, her distrust a palpable thing. Xayn held up his hands, dangling two small coin pouches.

  Xayn: "Very much. So, Bazren... how's it looking on your end?"

  From her belt, she produced a single pouch.

  Bazren: "Not as rich as you. But I did notice all of them seemed to have this..."

  She held out a small, strangely intricate brooch, its insignia a full moon, split with a crack through which two claws pried the halves apart. She held it out for Mola to see.

  Mola: "Pfft. The Lunar Rend. A known faction of troublemakers. Mercenaries, thugs, highwaymen... the works. They've been more active as of late, from what I've heard. These aren't just strange times for us; the whole world seems to be going mad."

  She sighed, a flicker of genuine weariness in her eyes.

  Mola: "Crime is on the rise. Pillaged towns, kidnappings..."

  Bazren interrupted, her tone sharp.

  Bazren: "Demonic daggers."

  Mola's gaze hardened.

  Mola: "... Funny. I'm serious. Much like you two came from the shadows, so too are many players who once stuck to them now dealing their hand."

  Bazren: "Uh-huh..."

  Mola: "Wouldn't surprise me if this is all connected, somehow..."

  Bazren: "Alright. Didn't take you for a conspiracy theorist, but it fits you surprisingly well."

  Mola's hands clenched at her sides.

  Mola: "Mock me all you want. I've seen the dirt in this world. I know what happens in the darkest alleyways. In hidden basements. Sometimes, even in the light of day."

  Her gaze seemed to turn inward, lost in a landscape of dark memories.

  Mola: "You two may be rotten on the outside, but even that is nothing compared to the decadence of some people's souls. That kind of rot... it extends far beyond one's shell."

  Xayn clapped his hands once, the sharp sound snapping Mola out of her reverie.

  Xayn: "Very well! Enough doom and gloom. The sun is high, and we have a long way ahead of us. Oh, and..."

  He revealed a simple shortsword, taken from one of the bandits and now tucked into a stolen sheath at his side.

  

  

  Xayn: "See to it you bring something along, too. Ought to send the message that we're not to be messed with."

  He offered one of their daggers to Mola.

  Xayn: "That goes for you, too."

  She recoiled in refusal.

  Mola: "No, thanks. Had my fill of those already."

  Xayn: "Take it, you don't have to use it. *Intimidation*, right? That's what it's all about. Plus... if what you said is true, and criminals are indeed rearing their heads more often, then it only makes sense for travellers to come prepared. It might even be more suspicious if we showed up completely unarmed. Am I wrong...?"

  Mola sighed, snatching the dagger from his hand, her touch lingering on the cold steel for a beat too long.

  Mola: "Suit yourself. Come on, then..."

  With the matter settled, Mola took the lead once more, her stride emboldened by the chilling assurance that no matter what they might encounter, nothing on this road was more monstrous than the three of them.