For a fleeting moment, hope flickered, pushing back the disgust and despair that choked her. But Fiona knew better, instantly raising her staff again. Igneal mirrored her action, raising his blade.

"You're really Royal Knight Nessa?" Fiona demanded. "Prove it. Now."

Although calm in posture, the woman blinked at them, her sleepy eyes narrowing slightly.

Igneal leaned closer to Fiona, his voice dropping. "We can't be sure if she's a naraga, not knowing her. We're barely acquainted; asking questions we can't even answer ourselves is futile."

A determined set formed on Fiona's jaw. Although he was correct, her intuition clashed with her carefulness. Nessa looked authentic; the sleepy-eyed face, her runic weapon, and most likely the spirit outside all matched. But the same could've been said for Wyford. The naraga had mimicked him perfectly.

Dear Sthito, the creation of the naragas were abhorrent as all hell! What kind of sick deity decided that creatures capable of wearing someone's face, voice, and memories like a costume were worth unleashing into the world? Also, who's to say there aren't any more of them running around now that they aren't merely folklore anymore?

A second tremor from below rattled the whole lighthouse. Jars and chains rattled, and the ground beneath their feet groaned as if the building were shifting on its base. Fiona's knuckles whitened around her staff, her gaze steadfast as she watched the woman before her. For a fleeting moment, Nessa's gaze dropped to the worn floor before lifting back to Fiona, her smile a mask of pain.

"Fio... I don't know how you two got here exactly and why you're questioning me, as if this is some sort of interrogation, but as you must know I've already destroyed the magical tool responsible for the mist, so escaping here should be much easier."

Fiona's heart pounded, her thoughts a blur of warnings and what-ifs, but that tone of uncharacteristic seriousness spoke louder than logic. From the short time Fiona spent with Nessa, the royal knight was usually upbeat and carefree, the complete opposite of her current disposition. Nessa, the knight who usually teased everyone and gave them nicknames, wasn't one to act like this unless it was truly dire.

In addition, a spirit of hers fought the blood sorcerer. Only those who had forged a pact could summon and maintain a spirit like that. That alone narrowed the possibilities. A naraga might imitate faces and memories, but they shouldn't be able to replicate a contract between summoner and spirit.

Fiona finally lowered her staff. "Sorry. We've had a long night. You're definitely not a naraga."

"A naraga?" Nessa repeated, her brow furrowing as she glanced between the two of them. "You mean those old folklore shapeshifters? Is that what you've been dealing with? They actually exist?"

Fiona gave a slow nod. "One of them mimicked an explorer we know perfectly. We only just found out just recently thanks to the blood sorcerer ratting him out."

"That is indeed worrisome," Nessa mumbled. "If what you said is true, we'll have to capture them immediately afterward or else it'll cause immense trouble."

"You believe us?" Fiona asked incredulously. "Just like that? What if we're lying or mistaken?"

"You could be lying and mistaken, but I doubt you are," Nessa said, her sleepy eyes now a little brighter. "You don't seem like the type to lie, Fio."

Under Nessa's intense stare, Fiona blushed and shifted nervously. The royal knight stepped aside from the long table strewn with papers, revealing a lit communication orb that seemed to be scanning the table's contents. A rumble groaned through the walls again, louder this time. Somewhere below, there was the distinct sound of a blast, followed by a torrent of stone cracking. Nessa clutched her head and winced, but regained her composure.

"Geo can't hold off hold off the blood freak forever." She gestured toward the staircase beside her. "Come on. I'll explain everything on the next floor up. Everyone else I've freed is already waiting."

"So it was you who cut through the bars in the alcoves," Igneal said.

"Guilty as charged," Nessa said with a faint smirk, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Didn't like the idea of leaving these poor souls to rot in a place like this. Most of them were unconscious, but a few were still kicking when I arrived. They were moved to safety upstairs, out of the cells, before the harvest began."

The word harvest landed like a stone in Fiona's gut while Nessa walked toward the ascending stairs. Igneal followed as another mini earthquake shook the tower. Fiona paused, her mind conjuring a gruesome image of what they might be harvested for. She pictured the diagrams plastered across the walls. Limbs circled in red, skulls marked with symbols, hearts labeled like ingredients on a butcher's list.

Fiona blinked and forced her feet to move. Each step creaked beneath them as they ascended, the groaning of the lighthouse walls growing louder with every second, as though the building itself resented their presence.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the satisfying scent of salt air washed away the pungent tang of copper. A cool breeze to waft in, accompanied by the sound of crashing waves. It was a welcome breath of fresh air compared to the smell of blood and gloom from below.

The beacon room was round and quite spacious, with cracked glass panes that once held its light. In the middle of the room lay the remains of the beacon that Nessa had previously destroyed. Its cracked runes sizzled and smoked as the remnants of the magical tool were reduced to shards of glass and metal. On the far side of the room, huddled near a doorway leading to a railing outside, were a group of wide-eyed survivors.

Fiona took a quick headcount of around twelve in total. There was a good mix of young and adults, with the latter being thin, bruised and dressed in garments torn all over. A few adults stood in front of the younger ones, arms outstretched protectively despite their own injuries. Surprisingly enough, the younger ones seemed healthier than their counterparts. Their injuries were more superficial, and they seemed far more coherent, albeit wide-eyed and a tad thin.

"Hmph. So you two are alive," Igneal said.

Fiona followed his gaze to see a man crouched next to a lady sitting far behind the crowd. Upon a closer look, Fiona recognized the bristled eyebrows and scruffy chin that belonged to Wyford. He was just as ragged as the others in the group.

The man's jaw dropped as he quickly rose and rushed over, smiling. "Lord Igneal! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing here?"

Igneal didn't answer at first, only looking up Wyford up and down before rubbing his chin. "Your disastrous looks notwithstanding, you appear to be the real Wyford."

Wyford chuckled. "And your words are as hurtful as always. But I'll take that as a compliment. I'd rather be ugly and real than handsome and possessed. Ah, on second thought, if I'm ugly, then no women would approach me..."

Fiona couldn't help but wince. The naraga and the Wyford acted nearly identical! They were really fortunate that they found out in time. Still, whatever doubts remained about Wyford's identity faded, especially now that he looked like someone who'd been through hell and barely crawled out the other side.

The lady that Wyford was with struggled to rise and shuffled over. Wyford lent her his shoulder as she nodded toward Igneal.

"It is nice to see you again, Lord Igneal," she croaked with cracked lips. Her eyes were bloodshot, hair matted with dust and streaked with dried blood.

Igneal blinked, recognition dawning slowly. "…Mitha?"

The woman gave a slow, weary nod. "I would bow," she rasped, managing a strained smile, "but I think my knees would snap."

Fiona felt her breath catch. Mitha. The reason they'd come here in the first place. The girl who'd vanished into the Whispering Forest. She was alive. Barely, but alive. There really were some truth to the naraga's words. They built upon a lie by using a truth, yet it wasn't entirely the truth.

"Just this once, I'll let it go," Igneal said, his usual bluntness softened. "You look like you need food and water."

"Don't forget a healer," Wyford added. "And a bath. No offense, Mitha."

"None taken," Mitha replied, sagging against his arm. "I'd kill for a hot spring."

"Don't tempt the gods," Wyford said with a smirk. "I'm starting to believe this lighthouse might collapse just to spite us."

As if in agreement, the tower groaned again. A metallic shriek echoed through the structure, followed by another deep rumble that knocked dust from the ceiling.

Nessa, positioned by the doorway leading to the outside, pivoted. "Okay everyone! That's the last warning we're getting. Everyone outside."

The survivors didn't need to be told twice. The ground trembled again, this time accompanied by a sound like grinding bones and shifting boulders. Fiona ushered some children ahead as Nessa stepped onto the outer platform, the ocean wind slapping her hair back and the sky above a sickly white-gray hue. Storm clouds churned inland.

Nessa stomped her foot against the floor once and extended her palm toward the railing. "Come to me, Lithero!"

A small tremor burst outward from her boot. A heartbeat later, a green wisp burst from the stone just beyond the railing. With a puff of dust and a crackle of pebbles, Lithero, the earth spirit, emerged.

"Took you long enough," the earth fairy grumbled, cracking his knuckles. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, master?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Send everyone down to the shore in a safe and timely manner, Lithy."

Saluting, Lithero zipped towards the platform's edge. He swirled both arms in tight circles, and the rock below responded. Slabs of stone floated out from the cliff face, forming wide, disc-like platforms suspended in the air. More platforms followed, each stable and spaced just enough for a few passengers.

"Group of four per platform!" Nessa barked. "Stand in the center and don't jump or move too much!"

The survivors scrambled onto the first few platforms. Nessa helped a limping man and three others onto one, while Fiona helped guide four children to another. The remaining prisoners occupied the second to last slab. Lithero hovered by, clearly monitoring the stability of each rock slab.

Making way for the next group, Fiona saw Igneal across the room, his brow furrowed in concentration.

That's when it happened. Nessa staggered once and caught herself with the glass, her face paling. The knight's expression twisted for a moment before hardening into something grim. Fiona felt it too, a break in the flow of mana that down below. Nessa didn't say it, and she didn't need to. Fiona saw it in the way her shoulders squared and her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword.

A sheen of frost was forming across the tower's ledge, creeping upward in makeshift footholds. Crystalline, pale, and growing with each heartbeat. And rising with it step by glistening step was the blood sorcerer.

"It was you," the man growled underneath his mask. "That uniform and mana signature... I should've known one of Johan's dogs was amongst the rabble."

The knight didn't flinch. She took one slow step forward. "It was quite easy, you know? Once a little birdie told me you were seeking unblessed and those granted the gifts of Sthito, suppressing my mana signature as much as possible to sneak past your attention was simple."

Valroth laughed. It was a rumbling, sickly thing. "A miscalculation on my part. However, that does not matter. It's not every day a sorcerer of your caliber appears. I wonder how your heart will react once it's been harvested."

The frost stretched all around the glass and stone, veining across the lighthouse's outer rail and crawling up the walls like a living parasite. Cracks webbed across the surface, fine and branching, and the chill in the air grew so intense Fiona could feel it prickling her skin.

"You really think I'd let someone like you walk away alive," she said, shielding Fiona and Igneal with her body. "You and Scourge are the scum of Dharmere: parasites who suck the blood of the innocent for your own twisted goals. Through His Majesty's will, I, Royal Knight Nessa, will rid the world of your vile existence."

Not even a second had passed before Lithero, in a blur of green light, appeared behind Valroth with outstretched arms. In a burst of mana, rocks materialized in a tight formation around the blood sorcerer, aiming to encase him in a prison of stone. The stone sped forward at an astounding speed.

But Valroth was faster. His arms moved in a flurry as blood-red tendrils, thin as wires, erupted from his fingertips. They sliced through the air with a hiss, lashing into the encroaching stone and shattering it mid-formation. Debris exploded outward in a halo of splinters. Lithero barely blinked out in time, a frustrated squeak echoing behind him.

"Lithy!" Nessa shouted, charging forward. "Send them down now!"

"As if I would allow you to escape," Valroth growled.

He flicked his fingers. The wires launched forward, slicing into the platform like whips. The ground cracked under the force. Nessa met the onslaught head-on, steel clashing against living blood. Each strike sent sparks and crimson arcs flying.

The floor beneath them crumbled into different sections. Fiona felt her entire body descend before she even had time to scream. Stone gave way with a violent lurch, the edge she stood on shearing off and tilting as it fell.

"Hold on!" Lithero shrieked. The little fairy darted between chunks of falling debris, his wings a furious blur. With a crack of mana, he summoned a series of stone platforms beneath Fiona and Igneal, each one slamming into the lighthouse walls.

Fiona clamped a hand to her chest, refusing to look down. "Woah, that was close! I don't think I would've been in the right mental state to survive that fall. You alright there, Igneal?"

When Fiona peered to her side, a brow flitted up when she saw Igneal sticking close to the lighthouse wall, sweat visibly rolling down his temples. He gave a weary grunt, his eyes daring not looking at the bottom.

In better circumstances, Fiona would've chuckled at how scared Igneal was given he usually never expressed his fears, but the laughter died in her throat as a faint red glint in the corner of her eye made her spin.

A blood thread shot toward them like a serpent, slicing through the air with lethal intent. Fiona didn't think—she grabbed Igneal and shoved him sideways, both of them tumbling onto the stairs just as the thread tore through the space they'd occupied. It snapped back with a whip-like crack, embedding itself into the stone wall and hissing like hot iron in water.

Lithero fluttered above their heads and conjured forth more slabs of rocks. "Keep running downstairs! I'll follow you while keeping this blood fiends blood whips at bay."

They didn't need to be told twice. Fiona's boots slammed against the next step as she sprinted, taking two steps at a time. The cracked, spiraling stairs shuddered under the weight of falling debris, and mana pulses above signaled Nessa's ongoing duel with Valroth.

Lithero groaned. "What have these sorcerers been eating in this era to be this skilled? I thought we were out of range!"

"We were," Fiona said, eyes narrowing as she glanced back up the shaft of the lighthouse. "He's extending them farther. The sorcerer's not just fighting Nessa anymore; he's hunting us too. What a monster to be multi-tasking like that!"

Another crimson lash snapped overhead, only to be intercepted by a hastily formed chunk of stone courtesy of Lithero. The tiny fairy whizzed past with glowing hands and a scowl twice his size. "Keep moving, slowpokes! I can't patch holes and swat blood ropes at the same time!"

A screech of metal echoed from above, Nessa's sword colliding with something that sang like glass. Fiona looked up for a split second and caught a glimpse: Nessa locked in a brutal clash on the railing, blood threads crisscrossing like a spider's web, and her uniform tattered at the edges.

Fiona knew this already, but Nessa fought with such finesse and aplomb that many could mistake her as a world-renowned dancer. Even in the constricted area, the royal knight's fight was unwavering, like a tightrope walker maintaining balance.

With the help of her runic weapon, every movement was precise. Her blade weaved through the web of blood like a silver ribbon, parrying attacks that would've skewered lesser sorcerers in an instant. Using the air element, she would flip and twirl to get closer to the blood sorcerer, managing to get a few hits in before being pushed back into another lash. Once, she even sent forth a few ice spears. Valroth didn't even flinch as they impaled themselves into his shoulder. For one fleeting moment, Fiona forgot to breathe.

Then a spray of crimson mist erupted near Nessa's shoulder.

"Go!" Lithero screamed, yanking Fiona out of her trance. "Master's holding him back for you! Don't waste it!"

Giving the stairs one final upward glance, Fiona continued her descent. Chunks of the tower had collapsed in on themselves, leaving gaps and broken railings. Fiona and Igneal leapt over the fractured stone and ducked beneath fallen beams. Lithero dashed ahead, conjuring platforms to bridge collapsed staircases and shielding them with stone whenever Valroth's tendrils lashed too close.

The entire base of the lighthouse had suffered from the clash above. Shattered glass, strewn papers, and organs out of their miniature prisons alongside faint traces of blood splattered across the walls. Surprising of all was that the glass tube filled with corrupted mana somehow survived the fall without a single scratch. Nausea clawed at her stomach, but Fiona pushed it down and forced her legs to keep moving. Soon, they were outside.

Lithero hovered midair, wiping his brow with exaggerated flair. "This is where I leave you. To reach the shore, you can figure that part out on your own. I have to rejoin master before that human skewers her."

"You're going back up there?" Fiona asked.

"Of course I am! She's gonna bite my head off if she gets hurt because I wasn't there to patch her up or scream helpful things!" Lithero spun in the air. "But don't you go back. Orders are orders. Her words, not mine: 'If they even peek back into the fight, Lithero, I want you to pelt them with rocks until they crawl home.' So yeah. Get crawling."

"She never said that... Wait, how do we even get down the cliff?" Fiona called out.

But Lithero was already gone in a blur of green light, darting back into the collapsing tower like a tiny, furious comet.

Fiona slumped. "I can't even bring myself to be angry when he's been so helpful."

She looked back at the towers apex, clashes of mana whittling away at her senses. "I can still fight. I can help her."

"You heard him," Igneal said, stepping in front of her. "A royal knight gave us an order."

She blinked, surprised by the firmness in his voice. "Oh? And since when did you care about orders? The Igneal I know would've told me we could take the blood freak together with a royal knight by our side."

"I might've," he admitted. "But that was before I saw what he did to the tower with a glance... and some other reasons I don't have to tell you. Besides, we'd just slow her down and get in her way. You know it."

Fiona opened her mouth, then closed it again. They stood in silence, staring at the open lighthouse doors that led out onto the cliff's edge. The sea below churned restlessly, waves smashing against jagged rocks and nipped the sand. It was a steep descent, steep enough that one wrong move would send them plummeting to their deaths. And they had no more fairy to help.

Fiona sighed. "Seriously, how do we get down? I really don't trust our earth or air spells to take us down safely. Maybe I should use ice and construct some sort of bridge?"

But before they could dwell on it longer, a voice rang out from the trees just behind them.

"Hey, you two!"

They spun. Crashing through the forest's edge came Tyrus, Reo, and Grant—sweaty, winded, but very much alive. Fiona ran forward. They met halfway, Fiona wrapping the others in a hug that nearly knocked them off balance.

"You're all okay! What happened to you guys?" Fiona asked breathlessly.

"We could ask the same thing!" Reo exclaimed, gesturing wildly toward the lighthouse. "What the heck is going on up there? We've been feeling mana bursts for the last five minutes! It's like someone's detonating spells above the world!"

"You're not far off," Fiona said, casting a glance behind her. "A blood sorcerer named Valroth. Member of Scourge. He's up there right now fighting a royal knight."

Grant frowned. "A royal knight is out here?"

"Royal Knight Nessa," Igneal confirmed. "She told us to run. Sent her earth fairy to help us escape."

Reo whistled. "That explains all the blood threads we saw in the sky… Wait, you ran into Scourge? Here?"

"More like we walked into them," Fiona muttered.

Tyrus's expression turned serious. "And what about the lighthouse? Were Mitha and Wyford there?"

"They were," Fiona whispered. "There were others as well, but Nessa freed them. Most of the cells were already empty by the time we reached the top."

"And the sorcerer?" Grant asked, arms crossed.

"Still up there fighting Nessa. I wanted to go back, though she made it quite clear we'd only slow her down. And I hate to say it, but she's right."

There was a pause.

"...Okay," Reo said, scratching his head. "So let me get this straight. You guys get kidnapped, thrown in a cursed lighthouse, witness a blood mage showdown with a royal knight, and get saved by a talking fairy—and we missed all of it?"

"Pretty much," Fiona said.

"I'd say you guys pulled the short end of the stick." Reo glanced at Tyrus. "See? I told ya we'd find the others if we followed the disturbances."

"But a few minutes ago, you said running toward the noise was probably a bad idea," Tyrus replied dryly.

When Reo shrugged, Fiona laughed, more from exhaustion than amusement. But her shoulders relaxed, just a little. Then she glanced at the cliff and sighed. "We're gonna need a way down."

"I've got that covered," Tyrus said, raising a hand. "On our way here, we found a few paths. The forest trail splits near the ridge; there's a sloped descent we can use, but it's narrow."

"You're amazing," Fiona said with genuine gratitude.

Tyrus quietly nodded. "Thank you, but why do we need to go down to the sea? That doesn't sound like a sound plan. Now that the mist is gone, the path to Lindell should be less dangerous."

"I know," Fiona replied, brushing some loose strands of hair from her face. "But Mitha, Wyford, and the rest of the rescued captives are down there. Lithero evacuated them to the shore."

"They're down there?" Reo leaned to the edge and squinted over. "Wow, you weren't kidding. I see about twelve of them down there."

"Yeah," Fiona said, her voice quieting. "And they're probably scared out of their minds. Wyford might be with them, but some looked barely able to walk."

Grant stepped forward, arms crossed. "Let's not waste time. We'll meet them and escort them back to Lindell along the trail we found. We and the forest path will keep them safe."

With little else needing to be said, the group followed Tyrus back through the winding forest trail, leaving behind the chaotic battle in Nessa's hands.

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