Six rings of fire floated in the air in neat grid pattern. Morrigan coordinated the strikes, unleashing a successive volleys of miniature fireballs. The bottom row would fire, and then the top, as Morrigan furiously replaced each ring that vanished after shooting. The blistering onslaught devastated the encroaching wave, rendering the pesky mass down to a few feet swarth of black specks.

  Morrigan’s hand writhed in pain. The heat spread across her entire body in response; a bio-magical failsafe to diffuse the heat and save her appendage. But using her body as a heat sink was risky - because even that had its limits.

  The flecks of her shirt going up in ash was the tell-tale sign. Moses was the technological genius who designed the shirt such that it’d provide cooling in case of a quick and excessive body heat rise. As its fibers overloaded with heat, it’d smolder away, giving space for her skin to breathe, and warning her to change tactics.

  But she couldn’t change tactics now. She was so close to destroying these creatures. Then something caught her eye. Movement, from the trees.

  What she thought at first was just shadow, lifted off the trees in a buzz. The brown leaves, she thought looked like a fallen organ, shifted and then buzz as another swarm of flies came out of it. “Essence of man!” Morrigan yelped, feeling like she dipped her hand in boiling water. “Flame craft: flying embers!”

  A fire-ring formed in front the new swarm. It shot through the center of the swarm, with one of the burning orbs landing in the pile of leaves and lighting it on fire. The sudden flame lighted the shadows on an adjacent tree. Instead of cracked bark, Morrigan saw the twinkle of thousands of tiny iridescent specks, like someone had blanketed the tree in black glitter.

  Then they took flight ….

  Then the buzzing began.

  “Oh my G-d!” Carol had scream what Morrigan felt.

  “I can take care of it Carol,” Morrigan said with a huff, as her lungs took in hot air.

  Morrigan felt Carol release her grip and pull away.

  “No-no-no-no, don’t run away! Stop Carol!” Morrigan shouted. She couldn’t keep up her volley, circulate her magic, and focus on stopping Carol at the same time. She could do two of those things, but not all three.

  Morrigan closed her fingers around Carol and dared a look her way. Carol looked frantic, her expression and demeanor that of a fox caught in a trap as a bear showed up. She yanked several times to get free. Morrigan had to let go lest she fall over too.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Carol, no! Listen to me!”

  But Carol was not listening. Hurt ankle and all she ran as best she could in heels. But in her panic she ran the wrong way. She ran in the direction they came, but there was nothing but fog as far as the eye could see half a city block away.

  “Damn it Carol, no! Turn around!”

  Buzzing forced Morrigan to turn her attention away. She half expected to see the swarms about to overwhelm her. Instead, the remaining flies from the first wave were making a bee-line to Carol. The other two swarms hurtled Carol’s way in a trajectory that would cut her off her escape.

  Morrigan could see the next set of moves; a talent developed through years of playing chess with Ripley. Carol would be chased, and with no other exit would have to flee through the trees and the undergrowth. If she made it past whatever flies were there, she would still be blocked by the wall of fog like the edge of a chessboard.

  Carol could try to run through it, but everything about it screamed danger. So, she’d be left to run along the side of it, in rough, uneven terrain, on an injured ankle. She’d never make it.

  Had Carol just listened to Morrigan, she wouldn’t be in this position.

  The idea flared anger across Morrigan’s sweaty brow. Why couldn’t the woman listen? She told her not to run. She told her not to attack the spider, which seemed to trigger whatever “this” was. And she told her they should had went back earlier.

  All of this so that she could preserve her beauty? Was that worth the price? A deep frown grew over Morrigan’s face, as she crossed her arms, considering to leave the woman to her fate — whatever that might be.

  Morrigan detested fools, and Mrs. Carol Lancaster surely was one.

  Morrigan half-turned away, and nearly stumbled on the uneven ground, formerly unnoticed fatigue welling in her overheated body. As she righted herself, she felt a heat at her back. It wasn’t magic, or any creatures. But it was the memory of the hand Carol had placed behind her earlier, when she thought Morrigan was going to fall.

  Morrigan had helped the stumbling woman so many times from falling. She never thought the woman would ever try to help anyone else. Yet there was that moment. An honest expression of concern. A lesson learned in care.

  Then the memory of their brief laugh, and all of Carol’s unnecessary personal stories —cumbersome efforts to connect to another human being.

  And then there was the request…

  A request for the one thing Carol could never buy: friendship. All of her wealth, all of her cars, trips, splurges, did little to fill the woman. What she needed could only be shared — a bond between two people. An intangible that could never be put away on a shelf, flaunted at events, or photographed.

  It was the feeling of mutual companionship in this thing called life.

  And Carol had asked Morrigan to be her friend — to share in the ridiculousness.

  The notion pulled at Morrigan’s heart.

  Though Morrigan ran “hot,” most people thought she was coldhearted, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Just like Carol’s belief that all she wanted, needed, was to remain beautiful.

  Morrigan sighed, turning in the woman’s direction, as the swarms completed their trap. Her feet moved before her mind told them to, acting on emotion, instinct, and years of training.