Alchimia Rex

Dia thrust her blade forward, a blur of motion of the enchanted thin pale-blue murisium needle. All around her, shadows thrust at her body, but she reacted, throwing gray flames in every direction to disperse the incoming attack into nothing. With a beat of her wings, she turned her lunge into a leap, air abuzz with the singing of her blade moving faster than her opponent could avoid. Her enemy, Throag, allowed herself to be pushed back, watching the healer’s every move attentively, warily. But rather than allow the attack to lead her further away from the clearing, she quickly threw a counter, a feint, or a small little swing of her massive claws to force Dia to stop in her tracks.

Neither spoke as the truth of the fight stretched onward; they were both moving in one large circle around the unconscious human. Dia wanted to force the Sabertooth further away, to potentially create the opportunity necessary for someone to get Rick out. But even while on the defensive, Throag was very carefully denying that chance. They both knew the instant Monica showed up, Throag would be cornered, but the feline had either yet to reach them or something else had happened, which Dia did not want to think about. Instead, she focused on keeping her opponent on the back-pedal, never committing so much to an attack she could not bail out of it.

A stray glance towards the unconscious Rick nearly proved Dia’s doom as four shadow-spears shot out and straight at her chest. She barely managed to summon the gray flames in time, but this attack struck her breastplate before dispersing. Dia’s wings flapped, throwing her backwards and away from four other attacks that grazed the air in front of her.

“You moved like you knew that was coming.” Throag growled, her tone equal parts annoyance and amusement.

There was no answer, because the feline was right. The only reason Dia had jumped back was because this exact situation had occurred in her sparring with Monica. The moment the feline had figured out that the flames took half a second to burn through denser darkness, she’d attacked with what would’ve been a killing blow.

Now Throag knew, and Dia had not managed to land any meaningful attacks yet.

Lips thinning, Dia readied herself, keeping the tip of her blade pointed squarely at Throag’s head while the two of them measured the other. One of Dia’s concerns was the crippled claw the feline was fighting with, a limb the Sabertooth could more easily sacrifice if it meant bringing Dia down.

Would the savage be willing to do that, though?

“Are you afraid I’ll take your other claw?” Dia taunted, sparing a moment to point at the injured hand. “Is that why you’re only using your shadows to attack me?”

The feline didn’t snarl, didn’t growl; there was a coldness that made the hairs on the back of Dia’s neck stand. Without a moment’s hesitation, she wreathed herself in gray flames, but the moment Throag pounced, the shadows did not jump out to thrust at her, no, instead they covered the Sabertooth like a mantle.

Dia reacted, thrusting her saber forward, piercing through-

Nothing.

Throag’s blackened body evaporated upon contact with the fire, but the attack came from directly behind Dia. A savage closed fist that struck her back, sending her careening forward. The healer tried to move, but realized her spine had been snapped, leaving her unable to feel her lower body. Falling into a heap, she’d sent a surge of power through her body, realigning her bones and nerves and forcing her body to stand back up.

Before she could even figure out the nature of what Throag had just done, the feline was already upon her. Using solely her maimed claw as if a closed fist, the feline thrust forward. Even when Dia struck back, blade shredding through fur and muscle, the impact could not be stopped.

The strike sent her careening back, and though she’d coerced her ribs back into place within a heartbeat, she was already trying desperately to dodge the next attacks. Throag was no wrathful beast; her attack was methodical and single-minded in exclusively using her right paw as a sacrificial limb. Even when Dia tore through tendons, the Sabertooth only grit her teeth and shoved harder.

Every time she tried to turn her attention towards anything but the arm, the feline would merely sacrifice more of the bloodied limb to try and capture her blade. How could one stop a wall of flesh that cared not for injury or pain?

Dia’s first instinct was to take to the air, but doing so would leave her far too vulnerable, not to mention it would leave Rick…

Rick.

She’d noticed Throag’s sudden disorientation when she’d appeared, and why had she even bothered to knock the human out? No time for thought, she lunged, threw a feint, and thrust, only to pull back the instant Throag looked ready to impale her wounded arm into the attack. The moment she lost her weapon-

Eyes widening, Dia took half a step back, wing clipping against the nearby tree and knocking her slightly off balance, legs tripping ever so slightly. A mistake that Throag did not hesitate to assault, throwing another stumped-hand jab straight at Dia’s weapon-wielding right hand. Rather than try to dodge or block, Dia allowed the attack to strike, knocking the weapon off of her hand as bones crunched under the force. Yet at the same time, a gray-fire wreathed left hand reached out, barely managing to touch the feline’s chest.

Throag thrust herself backwards with such velocity she appeared as if she’d been struck by a giant, the ground around Dia exploding in a cloud of dust. The feline landed on her feet, staring at Dia through narrowed eyes, then down at her own chest, touching the spot the healer’s flame had barely managed to caress. “That was dangerous,” Throag said, brows furrowed, clearly uncertain of how or why it’d been such an immediate threat.

Dia flashed a smile devoid of mirth or warmth as she used her powers to mend her ribs back into place. Throag appeared to be just as damnably sharp to unknown threats as Monica. It’d been close, so close, if she’d managed to push her power just a little deeper into the maiden’s chest…

Another thing Throag and Monica had in common was their body’s irredeemably annoying capacity for scarring. The Sabertooth’s left paw was a mangled mess, just a few good cuts away from becoming a stump. But it had already stopped bleeding, scabs having formed all over. Certainly, the maiden would not be able to recover her limb, but the maiden was clearly built for battle.

She’d studied Monica’s physiology for months, week after week, trying to work on ways to push her body to mend the deep internal. If there was one maiden Dia knew inside and out, it was that feralborn crazy Sabertooth.

The healer’s brows furrowed slightly, remembering one particular incident involving Monica and a threat she’d not been able to sense. Carefully, slowly, she coated her blade in gray flames. The exertion was heavier than trying to cover a limb, but not comparable to coating her whole body.

But so long as the Sabertooth died, then all of this would come to an end.

With a flap of her wings, Dia flew at the Sabertooth, thrusting with her blade once more, turning the tip of her saber into a blur of swipes and cuts. Throag responded in kind, blocking and using her own arm as a sacrificial shield, but there was a clear shift and a touch of confusion, as each scratch from the sword was mended by the very flames coating it.

Their dance was shifted this time, the feline warily looking for an opportunity to strike, taking small careful swipes with her good paw that forced Dia to give her space from time to time. The feline suspected something, barely committing to her counter-attacks and being far more defensive and cautious. The predator knew something was up, and was trying to either figure Dia’s plan out, or was trying to find a proper opening.

But they both knew time was not on Throag’s side.

Every exchange in blows came with a little increase in the feline’s aggression. The number of counter-attacks began to grow, and her protection from the flaming blade became bolder. Dia’s aggression waned as the tempo of the fight flipped and the massive maiden began attacking more boldly. Mass and experience earned her more ground as she pushed against the healer, the crippled arm an ever-present shield against anything coming her way.

Dia had not realized how little Throag had been using her shadows until her feet suddenly could not lift off the ground.

It happened quickly.

A sudden pain shooting up her legs, dark spears puncturing through armor, a cry of pain.

Throag jumped, thrusting the crippled limb forward, willingly turning it into a sheathe as her claw swiped at Dia’s other arm with blinding speed, ripping it off in one savage precise blow.

“You fought well.” The feline snarled, pulling back her claw, ready for one final blow.

“Fuck you.” Dia hoarsely spoke, pumping more power into the blade, through the metal, and into her opponent’s bloodstream.

Throag roared, swiping at Dia’s good arm, stumbling backwards as her skin began to take a sickly red and black bruised coloration. Her steps stuttered, falling on her ass, clutching her chest. “What…” She croaked, the blackness spreading up her throat and into her head.

The maiden tried to stand up, a burst of darkness spreading through her body as blood ran down her nose. She barely managed to raise herself to her knees before her body collapsed again, chest unmoving.

“I coagulated a lot of your blood. It’s very good at doing that.”

The healer’s breath hitched when the body twitched. It was barely on instinct that she managed to create more flames, barely slowing the shadow spears as they sought her flesh. They missed, however, consumed in the gray fire.

Several quiet seconds passed before Dia let out a sigh of relief.

That final attack would’ve gotten her had she slipped.

With a whimpering groan, Dia collapsed, dragging herself towards her lost limb and forcing it back to the stump. She could barely move, legs entirely minced, and her whole body would require proper intensive healing. Everything she’d done during the fight had been to coerce every inch of muscle and bone to obey and bend and join up. It was not proper healing, not by a long shot; that would’ve been far too slow in the middle of a fight.

Using her wings for support, she dragged herself towards Rick’s side. A single touch confirmed he was not truly harmed, merely severely worn out and unconscious.

He’d live, he’d gone through worse.

Now all she-

“I never thought I would see this day. Out of all my daughters, she’d been the most promising.”

Dia’s eyes widened as the world around her darkened. Instinctively coating herself in flames, the healer tried to push back, but the shadows pressed through, renewing themselves faster than they could be burned away, latching onto her body and raising her off of the ground.

A deep lung-burning stench left her in a coughing fit.

“What does that make you, little bird?”

Blackness darker than the abyss surrounded Dia, muffling her, cutting her air. Her struggles against the bonds were futile, her body too broken, her flames too weak. The shadows squeezed, pushing the very air out of her lungs.

“Why should I let you live?”

A face appeared before her, one of an old wrinkled woman, feline ears torn and minced long ago, one eye missing, and scars covering most of her leathery features. A broken fang peeked over weathered lips, a singular eye glaring at the healer with fury. Dia could not recognize the species, but with her vision blurring, it was hard to think at all.

“You… need… a healer.” Dia wheezed each word.

The matron scoffed. “You are right, our healers tend to not last very long.” Despite the poison in her words, she relented the pressure, dropping Dia to the ground, watching the healer hack and cough for breath. “And Throag chose her fate.” She spat, hissing angrily, making the shadows around them shiver and shake.

Dia just blinked, pumping everything she had into mending her body, trying to think some way to get them away from this unfathomable maiden.

The matron frowned further, glancing off into the forest. “She’s caught up.” Then gestured at Dia and Rick, two dark tendrils shooting out to wrap around their ankles. So thick were they that the healer had no doubt it would take hours to undo. “You two will be strong additions to the clan. Three, if the kitten comes to her senses.”

It was then that Dia heard it.

A singular ringing roar, distant at first, but growing louder by the second.

Until a white-striped projectile blurred past them, and straight at the matron.

In a burst of shadows they were both gone.