The Shadowstalker Panther's movements turned viscous under Kael's Deceleration Hex, its phantom clones dissolving like smoke. Finn blurred into motion, sword trailing comet-like flames—a sixth-tier breakthrough manifesting as ember-edged strikes.
"Firebrand Slash!" The mercenaries gaped as Finn's blade carved molten grooves in frozen earth. The panther retaliated with wind blades that shredded ancient oaks to splinters.
Kael's staff slammed downward. "Flame Tyrant's Hand!"
A five-meter inferno construct materialized, slamming the beast against a petrified sequoia. The impact shook icicles from surrounding branches, their shattering cacophony drowning the creature's death rattle.
The mercenary captain—a woman with sapphire-dyed hair and twin scimitars—stepped forward. "That was... efficient." Her gaze lingered on Finn's smoldering blade. "Azure Sirens Mercenary Company owes you a debt."
Amelia cleaned her sword with clinical precision. "Debts burden travelers. Directions suffice."
"The Lion King's den lies three leagues northwest." The captain produced a frost-rimmed map. "But the true prize isn't some overgrown cat." She tapped a crater marked Cataclysm's Maw. "Something's waking the dead there."
Finn's eyes lit up. "Zombies? Treasure-guarding specters?"
"Worse." The woman's shudder wasn't theatrical. "Frostbitten corpses walking with purpose. Drawn to..." Her sentence died as Kael's Frostvein core emitted an ethereal chime.
The Dusk Shard's whisper cut through the sudden silence: Hasten.
The mist parted to reveal their rescuers—a young woman with sun-kissed complexion and a lithe frame that spoke of wilderness survival, flanked by a grizzled veteran gripping a notched axe.
"Honored Mage!" The woman—Hannah—bowed deeply, her braided hair swinging forward. "We're scouts from the Azure Sirens. Our main camp lies three kilometers east. We were foraging medicinal herbs when..."
Owen, the scarred veteran, stepped between them. "Enough, girl. Strangers in Mistveil warrant caution."
Hannah pouted. "But they saved us, Uncle Owen! Look—he wields celestial flames!" She gestured at Finn, who busied himself skinning the panther carcass with theatrical flourish.
Amelia observed silently, her glamoured disguise softening to reveal faint amusement.
Kael kept his hood lowered, the Frostvein core in his satchel humming as Hannah prattled on. "Are you here for the Lion King too? They say the Goldenhorn's pelt shimmers like molten gold! But you're clearly above such petty—"
"Our business concerns the frost anomalies," Amelia interjected, her disguised voice rasping like wind through dead leaves.
Owen's axe twitched. "The walking dead then. They're drawn to the Cataclysm's Maw." His gaze narrowed at Kael's sudden stillness. "You've felt it too—that pulsing cold."
The Dusk Shard's whisper sliced through Kael's thoughts: Hasten.
Finn tossed a panther fang in the air, catching it with a grin. "Dead things and treasure always dance together. Lead on, Sirens!"
"We're merely curious adventurers," Kael replied, his smile disarming. "Though lacking proper maps…"
Hannah brightened instantly. "Join us! The Azure Sirens know these woods like our own scars!"
Finn leapt at the offer before Kael could respond. "Gladly!"
The mage suppressed a sigh. This fool's eagerness will get us ambushed. Yet pragmatism won—they needed local guides.
Owen tugged Hannah aside, his graveled whisper carrying despite efforts. "Strangers bring blades at our backs, girl!"
"But Father's hunted for months for a mage!" Hannah countered, gesturing to Kael's smoldering staff. "That one felled a Shadowstalker with a single spell!"
Kael pretended not to hear, extending his hand. "We accept your invitation, Miss Hannah. Call me Kael."
Finn groaned inwardly as their palms met. Why do all the roses wilt for him?
The trek to camp revealed the Azure Sirens' losses—one scout dead, another nursing claw-gouged ribs. Veterans moved with the grim efficiency of those who'd buried too many comrades, while Hannah's lingering glances at the shrouded corpse betrayed her soft heart.
"Hannah's the Steel Rose of Scorching Sun," Owen grudgingly boasted as dusk fell. "Every mercenary from here to Frostspire knows her name."
The camp emerged in a mist-shrouded hollow—a cluster of frost-rimed tents encircling a firepit where seasoned warriors diced with wyvern knucklebones. Hannah swept her arm wide, pride lifting her voice. "Behold the Azure Sirens!"