Quaiesse circled high above E-Rantel, the griffon's powerful wings cutting through the cold night wind.
His gaze stayed locked on the figure below—Clementine sprinting like a silver streak through the moonlit streets.
She held her short cones horizontally in front of her, body low and streamlined, transforming into an arrow shot from an invisible bow. Under the pale moonlight, the steel tips flashed with cold, razor-sharp glints.
Whoosh.
The air parted with a sharp, booming whistle that echoed off the rooftops. From above, Quaiesse could only track her as a thin white line weaving between buildings at impossible speed.
As expected of "Windstride," he thought grimly. Even knowing her reputation didn't make watching it any less frustrating.
The biting wind stung his face, numbing his cheeks. The griffon beneath him beat its golden wings steadily, keen eyes never losing the target.
Once Helant finds me, I'll have him help corner her. Pin her from both sides—she can't outrun everyone.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Clementine vaulted onto the top of a tall bell tower and turned to face him, cloak snapping in the downdraft.
Huh..?
Quaiesse frowned and guided the griffon closer, hovering directly in front of her. "What tricks are you playing at now?" he demanded, voice stern over the wind.
The griffon's wings ruffled her short blonde hair and sent her cloak billowing. Clementine leaned casually against the stone railing, a mischievous, triumphant smile curling her lips. "Oh my, my dear brother~ you actually dared chase me all this way."
The smugness in her tone set his teeth on edge. Something was wrong. He drew his sword in a smooth motion, point leveled at her chest. "What do you mean by that?"
Even with steel aimed at her throat, her smile only widened, wicked and delighted. She extended one pale finger and pointed lazily toward the distant apothecary. "Since you're busy chasing me… what do you think will happen to Nfirea?"
Nfirea? What did the pharmacist have to do with any of this?
Quaiesse's confusion deepened, but caution kept him rooted. He didn't dare close the distance—not yet.
Seeing his hesitation, Clementine's crimson eyes sparkled with amusement. "Friendly reminder: Nfirea's special talent lets him use any magic item, no matter the restrictions."
The words hit like a slap. Realization crashed over Quaiesse in an icy wave.
That was why she'd been waiting at the apothecary!
Clementine needed Nfirea to activate the Crown of Wisdom—whatever item she'd stolen that required unrestricted use.
And if she'd abandoned the chase so easily, she wasn't alone.
Quaiesse stared at her, jaw clenched. "Who is helping you?"
Clementine ignored the question, glancing up at the bell tower's clock face. "After dragging you around for so long, Khajiit should have succeeded by now."
Khajiit?
Quaiesse's composure cracked. He'd studied the mission dossier thoroughly—Khajiit, former Zurrernorn operative, plotting for years. Intelligence pegged him as dangerously ambitious.
"For the Spiral of Death ritual," Clementine added sweetly, "all he's missing is the Crown of Wisdom."
"You gave it to him?" Quaiesse's voice rose, incredulous.
He was teetering on the edge of fury. If it were anyone else, he'd have written Nfirea off as collateral. As long as the Crown stayed out of Khajiit's hands, the city could be saved.
But this was Clementine—obsessive, manic, utterly unpredictable since childhood. She'd hand over a world-altering artifact on a whim if it amused her.
Watching her brother's face twist through shock, rage, and helpless frustration filled Clementine with pure delight.
She twirled one short cone idly between her fingers. "Turning an entire city into a land of the dead… sounds like quite a bit of fun, doesn't it?"
"Madwoman."
The word escaped Quaiesse like a curse. He snapped the reins; the griffon banked hard and dove toward the apothecary at full speed, wings thundering.
Clementine watched him shrink into the distance, her triumphant smile widening into something almost feral.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" She reached into her storage pouch with casual confidence. "Hehe~~ Of course I'd keep the Crown of Wisdom on me to personally pro—"
Her hand closed on empty air. Eh..?
The smile froze on her face. She rummaged frantically, then again, digging deeper.
"Wait… where's the Crown of Wisdom?"
A cold knot formed in her stomach. Could Khajiit have stolen it?
…
Inside Nfirea's apothecary,
The Swords of Darkness and Nfirea stood tense in the dim room.
Ninya stared at the shattered window, brow furrowed. "Did any of you actually see who escaped?"
Nfirea shook his head slowly. "Too fast. Just a blur."
Suddenly the lantern light dimmed, swallowed by creeping black mist. A foul, choking stench of rotting flesh rolled in, thick enough to coat the tongue.
From the shadows came a raspy, aged voice. "Clementine really is unreliable. Guess I have to handle this myself after all."
The Swords of Darkness moved instantly, forming a protective ring around Nfirea. Swords rasped free; Ninya raised her staff.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" Peter barked.
"Heh. A bunch of weaklings." Khajiit stepped slowly into view, skeletal frame draped in dark robes, followed by two hulking zombies—muscle-bound corpses reeking of decay so strong it stung the eyes.
"Clementine, that madwoman, didn't keep her word," Khajiit muttered, irritation clear. "We agreed to capture them together, and she stood me up."
If she didn't have the Crown of Wisdom—the key to casting seventh-tier magic—he'd never have bothered with her unstable ass.
His gaze settled on Nfirea, noting the matching hair color. A sneer twisted his thin lips. "As long as she still craves that Bloodline Atavism Magic, I'm not worried. She'll hand over the Crown eventually."
The zombies lumbered closer, stench worsening with every step. Ninya gripped her staff tighter, summoning her courage. "A necromancer? What do you want with us?"
"What do I want?" Khajiit raised one bony hand, dark magic already coiling around his fingers. "The same thing I've always wanted. A city of the dead."
He fixed his eyes on Ninya—the little magic caster—and prepared the killing spell. One burst, and her head would pop like overripe fruit.
Thud.
Before the magic could release, Ninya crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Fainted from fear?
Khajiit started to sneer—then froze.
One by one, the Swords of Darkness and Nfirea collapsed. Thud. Thud. Even the two massive zombies toppled sideways like felled trees, limbs twitching once before going still.
A chill raced down Khajiit's spine. Even undead can faint?
Before he could react, his own vision blurred. Eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Consciousness slipped away like sand through fingers.
Thud.
He slumped to the floorboards.
In the last fading moment before darkness claimed him, he heard two soft voices—one timid and childlike.
"Lord Mare, the Crown of Wisdom has been stolen."
"Mmm… thank you for your hard work, Hanzo... So she's Ninya. Father specifically instructed that she must not die. That was close… that was.. very close."
________
15 Advance chapters:
Patreon.com/CorruptElf