The Executor lunges again.
I don’t dodge this time. I stand my ground and let the magic pour through me.
Stay dead.
The creature’s momentum carries it forward. Its claws reach for my throat.
Kaster’s hand closes around its skull from behind.
The Executor dies in the space between one heartbeat and the next—his violence and my anchor combining into a single, decisive ending. The creature crumples. Doesn’t regenerate. Doesn’t rise.
Two down. Permanent.
The third—Kaster’s second target, the one that was reforming—tries to flee.
We don’t let it.
He cuts off its escape route. I force my depleted power into one final working. The combined assault takes the creature apart in seconds. My anchor binds the death before the body can even begin to heal.
Three. All permanent.
Afterward,we stand in a field of permanent death.
Three Executors. Gone. Not temporarily defeated—truly ended. Their essence dispersed, their forms destroyed beyond recovery.
The anchoring cost me. The unstable field made it harder. Blood drips from my nose—not much, but enough to notice.
Kaster’s wounds are worse. Cuts across his torso, his arms. One deep gash along his ribs that bleeds freely. He ignores them.
“That needs attention.”
“I’ll heal.” He surveys the bodies. The permanent death we made between us. “Three kills. All of them stuck.”
“The magic here made it harder. I had to force the anchoring.” I wipe blood from my upper lip. “In stable territory, I could have done it cleaner.”
“But you did it.”
An acknowledgment, not a question.
I look at the bodies. Three weapons sent to end me.
They failed.
Not because of me alone. Not because of Kaster alone.
Because of us. Working in concert. Moving without discussion. Fighting as a single unit.
“Partnership,” I say quietly.
Kaster’s gaze finds mine. The same recognition I’m experiencing reflected back. The same understanding of what we’ve become.
“Partnership.” He agrees without inflection.
The word sits between us. Inadequate for what it describes. Accurate, nonetheless.
We turn southeast and keep moving.
The ice groans beneath our feet. The sky threatens weather that may or may not come. The gods have lost three more pieces.
