Artorious let the divine light of his [Azure Arc] surge, the brilliant beams erupting from his blazing eyes and streaking toward Mara. The young Hopla closed her eyes, bracing for the searing heat of annihilation—

But the attack never arrived.

Instead, a sudden, sharp tingle raced along the angel's spine, snapping his head abruptly to the side. The twin beams scorched past Mara, carving deep, molten furrows into the ruined earth behind her.

Mara's eyes flew open, astonished at her survival. Swiftly seizing the opportunity, she whispered a frantic incantation, vanishing into a shimmering veil of invisibility. Quietly, she crept away, heart hammering with relief and urgency.

Artorious whipped his gaze around furiously, tracking the source of interference. There stood Fauna and Lamphrey, staves raised defiantly, their glowing tips pointed squarely at his face. Klax loomed alongside them, a rumbling growl shaking his chest, and Tara stood poised, daggers gleaming with lethal intent.

The angel's lips curled into a disdainful smile as he realized that he knew who these new interlopers were.

"Ah, you again," he drawled. "Persistent vermin. First you dared resist me in the forests above when your precious Archon was but a fledgling hat. Then, the City of Illusions—again, you meddled in my divine mission. And now here you stand, still ignorant of your insignificance."

"Insignificant?" Tara scoffed. "You're the one who's lost to us twice, Mr high-and-mighty Lightborn. By the way, love the new look. You look like more of a damn sissy now than you did as a man."

Mara reached the group unseen, her veil dissipating as she touched Fauna's trembling paw. Fauna's eyes welled, and she knelt instantly, pulling Mara into a tight embrace.

"You…you came," Mara whispered, clinging desperately.

Fauna choked back tears, determined not to falter. "I would never leave you behind, Mara. Never."

Tara stepped close, resting a gentle hand on Mara's shoulder. "That goes double for me, kid."

Artorious watched their reunion with a detached amusement, quickly giving way to irritation.

"Is the Archon really so afraid to fight me on equal terms that he sends you in his stead? Disappointing. Even for one such as him."

Klax smirked up at him. "He's already halfway to your God by now, Lightborn. Soon, you'll have no one watching over you."

Artorious smiled thinly. How little this Lycae knows…

"I tire of this," he declared coldly. Turning sharply to his Greycloaks, he extended his glowing arm toward them. "I bestow upon you the might of Kaedmon. Earn your reward in this life and the next by purging this filth while I secure the Throne."

A luminous radiance enveloped his warriors, their bodies and blades igniting with a fierce, divine brilliance. Artorious turned his back on the impending slaughter, thrusting his empowered fist through the far cavern wall. Stone exploded in his wake, and without another glance, he stepped through to continue his ruthless search.

Young Jory, practically salivating at the mouth, raised his glowing blade with zealous fervor.

"For Lord Artorious!" he cried. "Slay the hybrids where they stand!"

As one, the Greycloaks surged forward, their swords blazing with killing intent.

"Guys?" Tara whispered. "What's the plan, here?"

Fauna and Lamphrey readied their best shields, opening them up for the three minotaur children to clamber in with them with their mother's still bleeding body. The monsters were filled with rage – primal anger that was overpowering sadness. They wanted nothing more than vengeance now. As did they all.

But even they couldn't survive the burning light that was charging up before them – shining in the blade of every Greycloak warrior the Lightborn had left behind.

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"Ready!" the young Jory called. "FI-!"

Before the Greycloaks could launch their collective attack, a sudden explosion of thick vines burst from the ground, snaking upward and tightly wrapping around the warriors, restraining their movements. Shock registered clearly on their faces as they struggled futilely against their leafy bonds.

From behind the Hybrids came a voice—dry, gravelly, yet strangely familiar:

"The Fifth Column remembers the Archon. And the Archon's chosen people."

The party turned swiftly, their eyes widening at the sight of Malak and a group of his druids. All around them, Drytchlings—the same sentient, twig-like beings they had fought alongside at Sentinel—rose from the earth, their gnarled limbs maintaining a firm grasp on the struggling Greycloaks.

Fauna and the rest of the party at first expected an attack from the old fiend, but the old man bowed his head low, taking a knee at those who had once exposed him as a traitor to his people.

"We heeded the call," he said. "We of the Grove have come as the Emissary of Ethan commanded."

The party stared in collective confusion, until slowly, their eyes moved towards little Mara.

"…seems like your voice reached some pretty far away ears, kid," Tara huffed.

Klax growled down at the old druid, who dared not even meet the Lycae's gaze.

"If he's with us," the old wolf said. "Then we might as well use him."

Fauna reluctantly agreed. It wasn't like they could turn away the help. Besides, the Greycloak's confusion wouldn't last for long.

"Then it's ass-kicking time," The Hopla declared, tunring back to the struggling Greys and the dying light of their blades.

"Miss Mara? I think our friends here are waiting for your word. Would you be so kind?"

The young Hopla sniffled, trying to avoid the sight of Miss Peregrine's body. But even when she caught the eyes of the dead minotaur out the side of her vision, she was surprise to find not sadness welling up inside her. But anger. Conviction.

So she turned, letting go of her teacher, and gave the order they were all waiting for:

Attack!

With a cry from Mara, the battle erupted into sustained chaos. Fauna summoned a smokescreen first to draw the Greys into even more confusion. Then, she and Lamphrey surged forward, both unleashing powerful spells into the Greycloak ranks. The Hopla's eyes burned with intensity as bolts of pure mana erupted from her staff, each strike exploding upon impact, scattering warriors and shattering their divine shields. Lamphrey complemented Fauna's offensive spells with illusions, smoke, and blinding lights, creating confusion and disarray among their already hampered foes.

"BREAK THROUGH!" one of the Greys cried in desperation.

But their efforts were in vain. The [Angel-Arm] would've destroyed them all if used on the simple vines, and so the weapon they'd been bestowed by the Lord had become their downfall. They were forced to hack away at their binds and try to parry the spells and slices from their foes, all while the Drytchlings outside the smokescreen simply continued to summon more and more vines.

Into this fray, Klax charged like a battering ram, claws extended, tearing through Greycloaks with relentless fury. His blows landed with bone-crushing force, swiftly followed by Tara, who darted in and out of the melee with surgical precision, her daggers slicing into critical arteries and joints, incapacitating the Greycloaks one by one.

Malak and his druids maintained pressure from the backlines. The old druid conjured lightning that crackled and leaped between Greycloaks, stunning them momentarily for Klax and Tara to dispatch swiftly. The Drytchlings continuously replenished their vines, grappling and restraining warriors who fought desperately to break free.

Klax grappled with one particularly aggressive Greycloak that had broken free just as the Lycae was about to deliver a stout kick in the man's gut. The Greycloak caught his foot, spun him, and followed up with a downward slash that would've ended the old wolf's life right there and then if not for the timely intervention of one of Malak's lightning blasts. Stunned, the old Grey could do nothing but watch as Klax simply hopped right back up and cracked his skull with an expertly executed roundhouse kick.

As the Grey's head lolled to the side, spurting the silver blood of Krea into the smoke, Klax turned to see Malak nodding to him from outside the cloud.

"This doesn't absolve you of the things you've done," the old wolf said.

"Nor do I seek absolution," Malak replied. "I am beyond forgiveness. But as I have brought pain, so too can I bring it now to the true enemy. That shall be enough for me, until the end finally comes."

Meanwhile, on the left flanks of the smoky battlefield, the minotaur children, consumed by vengeance, battled ferociously, driven by grief and rage. They overwhelmed their enemies with brute strength, toppling Greycloaks, smashing their divine armor, and avenging their fallen mother.

Slowly but inexorably, the tide of battle turned. Fauna, sensing their advantage, called forth a vast smokescreen. Within the choking cloud, guerrilla tactics dominated—swift, lethal strikes executed flawlessly by Tara and Klax, while Fauna and Lamphrey directed the strategic assault from afar, devastating the enemy lines.

When the smoke finally cleared, the Hybrids stood victorious. The Greycloaks lay defeated, their bodies strewn across the cavern floor in bloody chunks that were still bound by the Drytchling vines.

All except one.

The boy in the center of the formation, who'd been small and nimble enough even in his armor to move unseen beneath the toils of combat, finally made his play.

With a sudden flash, Jory activated a [Blink] teleport, appearing instantly at Fauna's side. His sword, still burning with divine power, aimed directly at her throat.

For a moment, everything froze.

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