The Wraith shrieked, its wails shrill and mournful, lunging toward the Silverhaired Maiden standing atop the carriage.

"Fro, use the shockblade," she commanded.

The Elven Knight—helmeted in a Tier Three Helmet, armored, and gripping a longsword—stepped forward. He met the Wraith’s grotesque visage and its glistening crimson tongue writhing before its maw. With a thrust from low to high, his blade crackled with electricity as it slashed diagonally toward the creature’s skull.

*Focus on her neck. The neck, Fro!* His father’s lessons echoed: *Imagine your sword is your arm. You’re slapping her neck.* But the steaming, crimson tongue held his gaze—thick drool dripping from its writhing form. It swelled before him like a frenzied Red Dragon.

*No! Her neck!* Fro snapped back. He wrenched the sword’s trajectory mid-swing, forcing the blade toward the Wraith’s throat. The creature’s eyes were locked on Aelina, ignoring Fro entirely. Its body dissolved into a shadowy wisp.

*Zzt-zzt.*

The electrified blade sliced through the Wraith’s hazy form. The creature shuddered, wailing as it solidified—and lashed back at Fro with a claw. Trained to always reserve momentum against counters, Fro pivoted, bracing his sword horizontally. *Clang!* The crimson-stained claw slammed against the blade.

A monstrous force yanked at the hilt. Fro gritted his teeth, knuckles whitening as he clamped both hands on the grip.

*"Use the strong of your blade to block!"* His father’s voice cracked like a whip in his memory.

*I did it, Father.*

Fro held firm. The claw scraped his pauldron, gouging three deep furrows into the metal. Enraged, the Wraith whipped its tongue and raked both claws toward Fro’s face. He twisted aside, raising his sword to strike the overextended creature—

"Get away from her!"

A man’s roar erupted behind him. *Damn it—I forgot the Elder’s son!* The pitchfork struck Fro’s side. Snout-face, veins bulging and face flushed, shoved him off-balance. Fro stumbled, grasping wildly—his fingers snagged only the Wraith’s icy skirt.

He watched the Wraith soar over him, claws outstretched toward the Silverhaired Maiden he’d sworn to protect.

*No. That filthy thing won’t touch her!*

Teeth clenched, Fro slammed his elbow into the mud, struggling to rise. Snout-face straddled him, driving Fro’s back into the earth. Breath knocked out, chest burning, Fro’s vision reddened. He drew his dagger just as a rabid dog lunged, sinking its teeth into his arm and wrenching.

Aelina saw it all. Fro wouldn’t reach her in time. She *could* have shot Snout-face dead with her crossbow when he’d snapped—but she’d kept her promise. Now, she faced the Wraith alone: a monster that crushed armored Knights, surrounded by a pack of snarling mad dogs.

"Activate Plan B."

The Wraith’s blood-red tongue lashed out. Aelina’s starlit eyes reflected its shattered form as she leaped backward, aiming the Molecular Reconstructor at the ground. "Slide, rise!"

A smooth, concave earthen wall surged upward—a child’s dream of a slide. Aelina glided down its slope. The Wraith’s claws raked empty air, grazing the Silverhaired Maiden’s silver locks. *Perfect. Exactly as calculated.*

At the slide’s peak, Aelina crouched and fired the Reconstructor at the carriage roof. Buckets of water—prepared while Fro fought—shimmered under a bright blue glow. They burst, showering the barking dogs below.

"Maximum power!"

Water bloomed midair, drenching the snarling pack. The Wraith lunged again. Aelina jumped straight into the dog pile, left hand gripping the Reconstructor. "Slide, rise!"

Another slick ramp erupted. Light from the device paved her path—a literal road—as fresh earth extended the slide beneath her feet. She accelerated, the Wraith’s wails fading behind her.

Weak. Sensitive. Swordless. Useless up close. But her balance was flawless. Aelina rode the slide smoothly while soaked dogs scrambled up its sides, jaws snapping to drag her down.

"Puppies," she chirped, "Merry Christmas!"

She hurled a "Lightning Grenade" into the frenzied pack. A Dalmatian leaped instinctively, catching it midair. Its fur exploded outward, body swelling twice its size before crashing down, limbs twitching. Smoke curled from its jaws as the silvery grenade clattered into a muddy puddle.

Days of autumn rain had turned the ground to sludge. Aelina’s water buckets had merged the puddles into a single slick expanse.

The grenade hit the water. The entire dog pack jolted upward like fish in a net—arching, convulsing, a symphony of spasms. A three-legged mongrel shimmied with passion in the mud; its partner lay sideways, limbs jerking, body steaming. The mightiest wolfhound became the last dancer, soaring four times before collapsing into the paralyzed heap.

Aelina circled the carriage twice on her slide, the Wraith wailing at her heels. A crimson warning flashed before her eyes: *OVERHEAT IMMINENT*. She had to jump—but her sensitive legs dreaded the impact. So she aimed for Fro, just staggering to his feet after fending off two rabid dogs and tackling Snout-face.

The poor Elf had barely risen to subdue his foe when a flying body slammed into him.

"Oof. You’re *hard*," Aelina groaned, rubbing her backside as she stood atop the thoroughly dazed Fro. She flashed a smile at the pitchfork-wielding Snout-face, who froze at her beauty. She tossed him her last Lightning Grenade. "Catch! A gift for you."

He caught it reflexively. His body seized. He collapsed.

*Thump-thump-thump.*

The Wraith’s bloodied tongue descended. Its monstrous face loomed over them, already flickering—the object tethering it to this world now ash.

"Fro!"

Aelina yanked the dazed Knight upright, shoving him between herself and the Wraith.

"Huh? What—?" Fro turned just as the Wraith’s decaying face pressed against his visor, separated only by glass. He saw its withered skin, smelled the icy stench of rot as the crimson tongue slapped against his helmet, seeking an entry.

That stench. That chill.

Fro shrieked, swinging his sword wildly.

The Wraith was a shadow of its former self, its power ebbing with time. Under Fro’s frantic strikes, it shattered into emerald sparks that scattered like dust upon the earth.

He kept hacking until Aelina tapped his shoulder. He whirled, startled, then exhaled shakily at the sight of her.

"It’s over," Aelina said, gazing at the green dust and the paralyzed Snout-face—*the Elder’s son*. Very satisfactory.

"You were brilliant tonight," the Silverhaired Maiden smiled. *This cannon-fodder shield works wonders.*

The Elf flushed, thoughts veering dangerously. "Uh... thank you. Truly."

Aelina tossed him a rope. "Tie up our chubby friend’s son."

"What happened to the dogs?" Fro scanned the smoldering, twitching heap. "Did you... do all this?"

"Easy. One snap of my fingers." Aelina planted her hands on her hips, waiting for awe or disbelief. None came. He merely murmured praise and began binding Snout-face.

*So boring. Can’t even let me show off.*

She stepped closer, directing him. "Gently. He’s a carefully wrapped gift for someone special. Oh—and put this iron mask on him."