Lyra kept still under Rainbow's boot. This was less about the deception—she had no illusions about her ability to prove she was too weak to fight. But if she struck out too soon, or too powerfully, she might prompt Rainbow to kill her.

These vampires have other powers too. I can't think they only have their strength to turn on me. She had felt some of that during the fight—strikes that hit her friends, or that their armor deflected. Someone had used blood as a weapon at one point, ripping through cloth and flesh where it struck.

But now that was over. We were winning! Lyra thought, glowering at Tempest as she made her slow way over to where Akiko had fallen. She picked up another firearm as she went, this one a machine pistol a different vampire had dropped. She checked the magazine, moved it between her hands.

“This is her real body. When you walked in, she was using phantasms.” She waved her hand, muttering something low and guttural under her breath. Akiko twitched, whimpering on the floor.

Not within sight, yet—still close enough. Lyra focused on her, eyes narrowing. Gunshot wounds could be mended, even without invoking the mudras or ritual words.

Rainbow struck her in the back of the head with her hand. Her forehead smacked onto the cave floor, hard. “Think I can't feel that, cat girl? Stay still, please. Tonight was gross enough.”

“...and that was her shield,” Tempest continued. “You wish her dead?”

“Quickly,” Volita said. “Painlessly. She fought for her friends—she's an adversary deserving of respect.”

Tempest lowered the gun to the back of Akiko's head. “Goodbye, Twilight.”

A deafening crack echoed through the room, so loud that Lyra's ears rang. The sound was familiar to her—a high caliber round, one that exploded into a secondary detonation a few milliseconds after impact.

Lyra's still-accelerated senses recovered quickly—but by then, the damage was already done.

Tempest lay splayed on the ground, missing her head. Akiko remained where she had fallen, apparently untouched. That was no machine pistol.

Rainbow and Volita both dropped—but not away from her this time. Rainbow yanked Volita to the ground beside where Lyra was pinned, herself crouched behind cover. She left her head uncovered, but protected something else—her heart.

“That way!” Volita pointed off in the other direction, in the wreckage of camp. “Mortal! Didn't sense her before.”

A heavy mechanical sound echoed through the room, then brass clattered against stone. “Let her go, or your head is next,” Bonnie called. “Stand up, slowly.”

Lyra twitched to one side, and Rainbow's grip slackened. Not enough to fight her way out, but enough to look.

Bonnie rested against the wall, surrounded by a circle of sputtering runes. Before her was one of the heaviest sniper rifles Lyra had ever seen, settled comfortably onto a tripod. More letters glowed along its side, still burning. Steam rose slowly from the barrel.

“You bitches deaf? Off her, now. Then back away.”

Volita turned to face her, holding out both arms. “There are two of us. Even if you pierce through the heart, the other will reach you before you reload.”

Bonnie kept her grip on the weapon. She watched over the scope, the other firmly closed. “Maybe. Shriveled old mummies like you wouldn't take the chance on that, would you? Which way am I aiming? Which one of your immortal lives is about to end?”

“I know her face,” Volita whispered, so low that Bonnie probably couldn't hear. But Lyra could. “She didn't go down with the VALKYRIE agents. That's the woman who killed Ventus. Burned his body on video.”

“What do you want me to do, mistress?” Rainbow whispered. “Kill her?”

“They'll both answer to the Camarilla,” Volita said. “We must make an example. Bring her alive.”

“Too slow!” Bonnie said. “Release her now.”

“Alright,” Rainbow said. “I'm letting her go.”

She lurched forward, taking her knee off Lyra's chest. Another deafening crack ripped through the air, sending a spray of black fluid and torn clothes—but whatever she hit, it must not be enough.

Lyra had a second to cast, so she did. She reached for Akiko, overflowing all the healing she could into a single, brief blast. Not long enough to fix the shock or replace the missing blood. But hopefully enough to keep her from bleeding to death.

Something clamped down on Lyra's neck again, wrenching her up into a standing position. Her concentration broke, and the spell ended before she could finish. “You could have surrendered willingly. Doesn't it hurt to see them suffer? This is pointless.”

Rainbow closed the distance to Bonnie with incredible speed, much faster than the young woman could reload.

But something was already waiting in the space between them. There was a click, then another explosion, loud enough to deafen her. A claymore!

Chunks of vampire went spinning through the air in a spray of dark blood. Rainbow screamed, then—dissolved? One second she was there, the next only a faint cloud of dark mist remained, vanishing into the shadowy gloom.

Lyra fought, wrapping both arms around Volita's hand and trying to pry it free. She could've done that to Rainbow, she'd felt that girl's strength.

Volita's arm didn't even twitch. Her hand wrapped tighter, squeezing at her throat. “Still, mage. The Prince will forgive a corpse.”

Then Bonnie was there, mere feet away. Gunshots echoed again, this time from her heavy handgun. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Volita's body ripped open, spraying dark blood against the dark walls, the cold stone. Bonnie kept shooting, taking step after painful step closer. Until the gun clicked.

“Are you finished?” Volita turned then, lifting Lyra by the neck as she did. She held her in one hand, while the other she opened. “Surrender, or I'll take her head back to the Prince. Drop the gun.”

Not just words—there was weight behind them, command. It might not work on a mage, but Bonnie wasn't magic. She drew a revolver quick loader from a pocket, her fingers shaking. Bullets clattered out one by one. The gun shuddered in her hand. “I... won't... serve...”

“You will, though,” the ancient vampire said. “Why do you think we kept you alive? You have a blood debt to repay.”

Bonnie dropped the gun.

A dozen different spells flashed through Lyra's mind, all useless. Life magic could do nothing to these creatures. She couldn't put them to sleep, couldn't suppress their life to cause harm, or even inflict them with terrible disease.

Akiko was the one who could fight vampires, and she now lay unconscious on the stone floor.

“As fascinating as your appearance is—I need you at a more manageable size,” Volita continued, twisting Lyra in her grip. “Be human again, please.”

She obeyed. Lyra's body shrunk. Her remaining wing vanished, and the muscles returned to their normal configuration. Her strained clothes shifted back into place, dropping the two objects she was still carrying to the floor. Her obsidian dagger, and a little piece of carved wood.

“Much better. We'll wait here for Rainbow to put herself back together.” She kicked the knife aside, then tossed Lyra to the ground beside her girlfriend. “No spells from you, cat witch. But we both know there's nothing useful you can do here. Your powers won't work on me.”

Lyra landed painfully beside Bonnie; shoulder pressed into the dirt. Her girlfriend remained rigid, frozen in place in the unnatural rigor of mental command. She remained perfectly still, waiting for Volita's next order.

Lyra reached for her magical tool, but of course it wasn't there anymore. Her fingers only closed around a piece of hard wood; its surface broken with dense scratches.

“That was unpleasant,” said a voice from the dark. Rainbow stepped out from the shadows there, missing her weapons and her clothing. Yet there were no signs of damage to her pale body. Bonnie's attack hadn't even left a scratch. “Kinda rude to shoot people, isn't it?”

She bent down, hauling Lyra off the ground again. “Guess these are the ones we came for. Too bad about the team.”

Lyra kept her hand squeezed into a fist around the little piece of wood. One sharp edge cut into her skin, drawing a few painful drops of blood.

“Looks like we may need to escape another way,” Volita said. “I know how little you like spirits, but—”

Lyra felt it before they did. Where her blood touched her captive spell, the binds along it tore free. Magic ripped from her body, shattering the carved wood. Tentacles reached out in every direction, and two found their marks.

Nimbus filled the ruin, transforming it in a single incredible rush. Great trees rose up instead of walls, clustering close together to form a shadowy canopy. Fresh air blew through the space, carrying with it the smells of flowers and the moisture of running water.

The trees parted, and white sunshine shone on them all, so bright it blinded her.

This wasn't real light—the vampires didn't dissolve into scorched flesh. Rainbow dropped her and fell to the dirt. Volita collapsed just beside her, curling up on the mud. She started to sob, rocking slowly back and forth. “No... no... no...”

Bonnie shook herself once, and her glazed expression suddenly focused. “Lyra?” She held out her arm for Lyra.

She took it, rising slowly to her feet. Pain faded, drowned in the surge of mana into every limb, every cell. “What did you do?”

“A mighty miracle,” said another voice, from very close. Capper appeared out of the rich undergrowth, except—he was a man again. He wore an ancient mage's cloak yet covered with the spots and splotches of the last body he'd been wearing, yellows and browns and blacks all smeared together.

Lyra looked and saw what he meant. The vampires weren't burning because they were breathing. Their skin had color again, smears of red and purple visible beneath. “There's no... cure.”

“There is not,” Capper said. “This will not last. When the sun next sets, this mighty work will be undone. But for the moment...”

He dropped to one knee beside the two undead, obvious pity on his face. “In the ancient days, this would be their time to prepare to meet their end. We would give them the kindness of dying as men again, instead of beasts.” He stood, turning his back on the two.

“No,” Lyra whispered. The words came before she realized what she was saying. “I want them to remember this. They should know how their victims feel.”

The spell was already fading. Distant forests vanished, and the cavern darkness overpowered the false sunlight of a truer place.

“There is considerable danger in returning these alive,” Capper said. “Sparing them—may produce greater enemies, more determined than ever to exterminate your cabal. The Kindred are not merciful creatures, and slow to forgive.”

The cave returned. They were back in the dark, with only faint suggestions of leaves visible as patterns in the rubble.

Except—it was different now. Reagan was there, holding Akiko in a standing position. The Obrimos mage was pale, but at least Lyra's healing magic had done its work. No bloody crater remained in her chest, wreckage of the shotgun blast. Her attention was now focused somewhere else, as though the back wall of the chamber had become incredibly fascinating for reasons unknown.

“What if they don't remember us?” Reagan asked. She hesitated long enough to catch her breath, adjusting Akiko's nearly-limp body. “Can't hunt for someone you don't know.” She looked down at the two undead. “Not exactly sure why we should let them live. They wouldn't do the same for us.”

“Warning,” Lyra said. “I want them to spread the word—if they don't leave us alone, we could take away what they most value, turn them back into the species they victimize.”

Capper might look like a cat again, but he still spoke like a person, for all to understand clearly. “Others remember you. If they do not, the Kindred will know their minds were altered. Even if they may struggle to understand how.”

“You killed her,” Akiko finally said, her voice distant and unfocused. “Why?”

“To save your damn life, witch,” Bonnie grunted. “Was hoping to get a good shot on the leader. But she kept her heart covered. Harper wasn't exactly in the position to help at the time.”

“Waste,” Akiko said. She gestured at the body, and the corpse reformed, returning to the way Tempest had looked in life. Except, of course, that her face was blank and lifeless now. “I was getting through to her.”

“We needed the sacrifice of a mage’s life, didn’t we?” Lyra asked, voice distant and unfocused. “I wonder if that was good enough.” She turned to the door, squinting at it through the ruins. It was glowing now, but had it always been doing that? Lyra had bigger worries just then.

“New idea!” Reagan interrupted. “New memories! The ruin wasn't real, just a trick to ambush them. They won the fight, narrowly. Had to kill us all to survive.”

That made them hesitate. Eventually, Lyra nodded. “Good. Do you think you could confuse what we look like in their memories a bit? Would be nice if they don't see us in the mall some night and realize what happened.”

“Sure, but... that won't change whatever recordings they have.”

“They don't have any,” said another voice. Tabitha sat up from the floor. As she moved, the full heat of life returned to her face. Her heart started beating, and she stood. Narrowly, anyway. She stumbled forward, clutching at a deep wound to her chest. “Heartstrings, if you would. I think I'm bleeding to death. For real this time.”

Without the battle to distract her, Lyra had no trouble sealing the wounds—though doing so left her with all the mana of a fully squeezed tube of toothpaste, curled up to nothing.

While she worked, Tabitha spoke. “I may've been a tad disrespectful during our visits with them. Every camera recorded static. Erased the fingerprints and other genetic signs too, while I was at it. I meant to apologize, but...”

She reached where the two Kindred now lay, with heat in their bodies and real heartbeats. To anyone with mage sight, they were still engulfed in spectral vines, pulsing with the life of the Primal Wild. Rather like a supernal life-support system for a dead thing, sustaining them for a single day.

She gasped, covering her mouth. Her eyes settled on Lyra. “That's... that's not possible. No master of the arcana could...”

“None could,” agreed the cat, nuzzling up against Lyra's leg. “Not making or unmaking—Dynamics.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. Those unplaceable Atlantean words Capper taught her—she didn't know them because they didn't come from any mastery of the arcanum still taught in this degenerate age.

She wobbled, then dropped to her knees on the smoky cavern floor, arms wrapped around her chest. Though her body was still, her eyes opened. Her mage sight seemed to outline everything now—her friends all bound by threads of generic heritage through to an ancient planet.

“Lyre?” A pair of soft arms wrapped around her, squeezing tight. “Lyre, what's wrong? Are you hurt?”

Her cabal were so vulnerable. Every woven thread that wrote their lives had flaws. Every new cell born made them die a little more. And the complex, spontaneous mapping of organ systems, so easy to disrupt.

“I can't...” Tears filled her vision. She tried to reach for Bonnie, but her body barely obeyed her anymore. “I can't watch you die.”

Her girlfriend lowered her into her arms. “Lyra? Akiko, what's happening to her?”

“Fire without smoke,” said a familiar voice, just beside her now. “What lives, grows.”

Capper was there again, but not a wild ocelot hosting a spirit. An old man, wrapped in the dignity of high office. He removed his hood, revealing a face of white hair, and little wooden crown on his brow.

Lyra didn't see the physical anymore, though she still felt it. Bonnie's arms still held her, warm and desperate. But she couldn't hear her anymore.

“The phenomenal rots from a festering wound,” he said. “We caused it, drew a silver knife across the world and spilled its lifeblood. On its own, the patient will die. But with enough skilled doctors, surgeons—” He held out a hand. “It's time to be one of them, Lyra.”

She reached out, without moving her body in Bonnie's arms. Yet she hesitated, short of taking the offered hand. “What about my friends? My girlfriend?”

Capper smiled sadly. “It will hurt, at first. But who better to teach them than you?” Behind him the cavern was gone. A road appeared in its place; golden bricks formed of every truth Lyra had ever told.

Lyra focused, returning her attention to her body. For a little while longer, anyway. She saw Bonnie with her human eyes. She straightened in her arms, high enough to kiss her. “I love you, Bonnie,” she whispered. “Thanks for... believing in me.”

“Lyre? Lyre, what—”

Lyra's body exploded into tass, resonant with the verdant life of the Primal Wild. It blasted through Bonnie, then continued through the cavern, covering every surface in grass, moss, and vines. Great trees grew from nothing, their trunks expanding to hold up the broken cavern.

Only soft green wildflowers remained to mark the place she’d been, each one formed of radiant green with little lines of gold.

Author's Note

Most of you won't have seen this amazing image yet! Wish we could've had it in time, but I still love how it turned out:

Like the cover, this was more art by the amazing Zen.