Even if the watery heavens could come down from their perch, they couldn’t save the town. The smell of burning wood and grass, scorched stone, and hot metal permeated the land as the fires spread through what no one would recognize as the district of Gukui. Hissing rang in Vadeen’s ears as he doused the flames with water flowing from his hands while he ran after a figure in orange.

The perpetrator ran atop a wall, tiles shifting audibly beneath their feet, and he followed below in the streets. He jumped over and slid beneath abandoned carts without breaking momentum or losing them in his sights. As he ran, his raven’s voice whispered to him, familiar and comforting. A mental birds-eye view of the perpetrator’s location came along with the whisperings, allowing him to map out the town’s formation; unless they lowered into the streets, he knew exactly where the perpetrator went.

After some minutes of chasing, he gradually caught up. Once close enough, he manifested boiling water in his free hand while jumping to his left, bounding toward them. He hurled the water and they evaded by seconds, though they hissed at the water popping on the tiles. He smirked as they turned to face him with their sword drawn in retaliation.

Airborne, he dodged a swipe while landing on the roof, then spun in time for their blades to clash. They traded blows swiftly, and his brows furrowed upon realizing their skills were equal to his. A terrorist shouldn’t have such power.

When their blows sent them both skidding back, the criminal’s free hand engulfed in flames. Before he could attack again, they sent fire from their hand toward him. He launched the fire back with his blade with seconds to spare, but they swiped the flames away with their gloved hand. An abandoned building went ablaze, causing him to flinch back. He stepped forward to put the fire out, but they blocked his way with their sword raised.

Coating his blade with steam, he spun away. An arm flew from a single slice, and the criminal’s cry stirred satisfaction within him. He watched as they flew and hit a concrete wall, breaking it from their speed to create a crumbling opening and allowing him to see them hit an opposite wall on a different street. In his mind’s view, he saw them slide down the wall, seemingly unconscious. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped through the wall and approached.

Eyeing them, he glowered at the sight of their silver blood staining their clothes and soaking the sleeve where an arm had been. He kicked their foot with enough force to move their body to the side. When they didn’t respond, he lowered, reaching for their mask.

“Someone’s coming!”

Glancing back, he saw the column of fire closing in. He jumped up atop the tiled wall, watching the fire approach with a scowl behind his mask.

The fire burst, revealing a figure crouched beside the fallen criminal. Like the other indraht, they wore orange and black with a featureless silver-white mask foreign to his kind. It turned upward to look at him, bringing another frown to his face. From what he could discern, this new foe bore a muscular body, unlike the small musculature of the fallen pyromancer.

“Oh?” a feminine voice hummed. “You’re different from everyone else...”

Eyes narrowing, he intentionally ignored these words. He reached with his senses to get a feel of the indrahti’s andla power but she blocked his perceptions with such a powerful metaphysical shove he lost balance and fell down the wall. He caught himself, suddenly dizzy, and barely kept himself on his feet. “Shit…”

He heard a croak near him, and his raven shortly flew onto his armored shoulder.

She chuckled. “How...curious.”

Much to his disappointment, a large blue and white falcon flew onto her outstretched arm a moment later.

Rubbing his forehead, he huffed to himself. The dizzy sensation had yet to recede. “Indrahti familiar,” he muttered. Think you can handle it? he asked his raven.

When the voice didn’t respond, he looked at the bird in alarm.

Are you alright?

The raven didn’t even croak, its glassy ochre eyes evading his.

He nearly broke his ready stance but caught the woman raising two fingers, bringing scattered pieces and shards of wood into the air. Though it didn’t loudly emit from her the way it would from someone arrogant, she exuded confidence. A powerful gust of air hit him, causing his raven to take to the sky with a croak. He caught sight of the wood approaching just before he shut his eyes. Time seemed to stop as he took a deep breath.

He let himself go, moving up with the air and riding the current. He pinpointed each piece of sharp wood with his senses and sliced them into smaller bits, flowing with the air in what seemed like a dance. He felt the shift of wind sending him back to the ground once the shards had disintegrated. Spinning, he sheathed his sword and landed hard, slamming his hand into the concrete. The street rose and fell, and he sensed the woman and her companion enveloped by the ground.

He stood with open eyes, aware this wouldn’t hold them back. He clasped his hands—or tried to. The ground moved and twisted, surrounding the two indrahti in compliance with his will, but he felt significant resistance to his elemancy. Straining, he tried harder to clasp his hands and trap them. The rocks began to crack and give, and he couldn’t hold them together any longer.

He cried out, slamming against the back wall with his arms out as a brutal assault of air and rocks hit him. The second the air ceased, he hit the ground hard. Groaning, he looked up and saw the woman standing above him with a long, curved sword unsheathed.

With a grimace, he began to rise from the concrete, but his body was sluggish. Large roots suddenly wrapped around his wrists and ankles to prevent him from moving, forcing him to watch as she approached and reached for him. He hissed in pain when she reached into his hood to lift him by his hair.

Hanging limply over the ground, he felt vulnerable. “Fucking...perka’dar,” he breathed.

Unseen eyes scanned him from top to bottom. He didn’t like the way it felt. “That was impressive, boy. You seem faifethi enough,” she hummed, a slender brown root reaching to wipe the light bronze from his forehead. He half expected her to raise her mask to taste it. “Yet, something about you doesn’t feel quite like a faifeth.”

“Fuck you,” he said with a vocal growl.

Easily, the hand that held him by his hair briefly lifted him higher while letting him go, then grasped his neck, choking him. Only then could he move as the roots around his wrists disappeared, and he grasped the woman’s hand in an attempt to pry it away.

“I think I’ll take you home with me,” she said with humor. “It’s been a while since I was reminded of my brother...”

He barely heard the words, unable to kick his legs as he slowly lost consciousness. Saliva trickled from his mouth and his eyes rolled closed.

“Don...fight...een,” the faint voice called.

Internally, he all but screamed in outrage. How can I not?!

“...on’t...ight...”

Sudden movement broke the tightness from his neck, allowing air to abruptly flow into his lungs. He gasped and took great swallows of it before coughing, looking through a hazed vision at the person who held him on the ground.

“H-Haśīd…wa…kilek,” he gasped.

A red half-mask hid most of the lieutenant’s face, but her eyes expressed worry. “Take your time, Wuan-wakil,” she said. As his breathing evened, she looked to her right.

Following her gaze, he saw a tall figure’s caped back, the tanzanite color of the long material and hood easily giving away the person’s status as a captain of the military. Embroidered onto the back of the cape was a symbol indicating this person was the captain of the 21st Bracket.

A small smile formed on his face. “Zafahr-sebuan,” he muttered, moving to sit upright.

The captain of his sister bracket faced the direction he presumed was where the two indrahti had been, yet he didn’t see them—nothing more than the streets that appeared far worse than before he lost consciousness. Both walls were gone, and fires remained on pieces of upturned concrete and remnants of the town’s stalls and eateries.

The captain’s forōs energy was calm and controlled, as expected from a captain. However, his blade was drawn, and it was bloodied at the tip. Silver liquid dripped down its edge, staining the ground.

After a moment, the captain flicked his sword out, splattering the blood on the remains of concrete, then sheathed it at his side. He turned, grey eyes nearly visible as they reflected the fires around them above his mask. Approaching, he said, “Haśīd, put out the fires.”

“Understood!” Without another prompt, the lieutenant moved from behind Vadeen and began to use hydromancy as she passed her captain. In moments, controlled waves of water flowed from her hands, extinguishing the fires.

Vadeen looked up at the captain, moving to stand just as he asked, “Are you alright, Wuan?”

“I’m—” Vadeen wobbled and collapsed to a knee, head spinning and mind hazy with foreign sensations. He groaned, placing a hand on his forehead.

The captain crouched in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Did that indraht do something?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I-I...don’t know.” Vadeen’s voice could barely rise above the hissing of the dousing fires. He met the captain’s worried eyes, managing a weak smile. “It could have been...worse. I’ll recover.”

Some strands of light red hair fell into the captain’s face as he slowly nodded. Unfortunately, he visibly appeared unconvinced. He began to say something when a burst of wind brought his attention to someone behind Vadeen. Vadeen knew who they were; he could sense their enraged, wildly flailing forōs.

“Zafahr-sebuan,” the gruff feminine voice huffed. There was a pause as the younger captain rose to his feet, and the woman’s footsteps crackled from the debris on the ground. “What happened?”

Vadeen moved to sit, turning to see both captains on his opposite sides, Zafahr at his right and his captain approaching from the left. His head lowered when the pain returned, making it throb. What the…Why am I still dizzy?

The two captains began to talk. It allowed him to close his eyes in an attempt to commune with his raven.

What happened? he asked.

There wasn’t a response. He grasped his head, softly groaning when its throbbing intensified.

“Wuan?”

He slowly moved to his feet. “I’m alright...Sebuan…” He shook his head to clear his vision, then looked up to meet his captain’s expression. In the darkness of the plane, her green eyes glowed brightly within her hood, an indicator of her sour mood. He could see the suspicion in their depths but nodded in an attempt to clear her worries.

It didn’t work. A look was given to him, one that told him he was likely to get a lecture later.

Captain Zafahr motioned to him. “He held well on his own, Wasihl-sebuan.”

Vadeen kept a neutral expression as he looked at the kind captain, but internally, he felt better. He didn’t think so, but it meant a lot to him that the captain thought otherwise.

A soft hum emitted from his captain, whose head was bobbing in a slow nod. “We’ll talk later, then.” She looked away, towards the direction the indrahti had disappeared. “Something’s off.”

“Yes,” Captain Zafahr agreed, glancing at something to his far left. He approached it, then crouched to pick something off the ground. “I’ve never seen a mask like this before,” he said, turning to face them with one of the silver-white masks the indrahti wore.

Vadeen didn’t comment, as he couldn’t tell an immediate difference between it and the ones he had seen worn by terrorists in the past. His eyes panned between the two captains as his nodded, causing his brows to furrow.

As if aware of his thoughts, Captain Zafahr handed it to him. “What do you notice about this, Wuan-wakil?”

He blinked, then took it in hand. Unlike the cloth-like masks worn by the Malaki Raja’śun, this was a mask more akin to those worn during celebrations in Sahīleth, hard, smooth, and heavy—incredibly heavy, and warm to the touch. His frown deepened as he scanned it, placing a gloved finger over its surface.

“It lacks a curve for the nose,” he said idly, more to himself than to the captains. He winced from pain, glad his mask hid his face, and weighed it in one hand. “It doesn’t even have holes for nostrils…and it’s much heavier than the ones worn by the terrorists I’ve dealt with in the past. It also lacks a pattern, something all indrahti have, including members of their military…”

“Exactly.” As he looked up, his captain nodded at him. Her eyes were no longer glowing. “Good, Wuan. We may be dealing with a different organization—if they are organized at all. What do you make of it, Zafahr-sebuan?”

The younger captain slowly shook his head. “I do not know, but…perhaps this is an independent group?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if they aren’t terrorists?”

Vadeen could barely imagine such a thing, but Captain Zafahr’s words seem to bring his captain to a pause. “That’s…concerning.” She addressed to Vadeen, “Return to the ships, Wuan.”

“Understood!” He bowed his head at both captains, then swiped his sword from the ground and sped off.