Separated

Ylfa grimaced as she shut the front door behind her, Eny’s small hand tucked firmly in her own. The distant clash of battle carried across the lake, a constant rolling thunder of steel and screams. And she could see them - six Formys, the last of their kind, sprinting full-tilt along the shoreline, abandoning the battle that would decide their people’s fate for one single, obsessive purpose.

To kill her.

Their hatred ran so deep that even the downfall of their nation mattered less than ending her life. But they weren’t the true danger.

The wyverns were.

More than a dozen tamed beasts skimmed so low over the lake that their wingtips sliced the surface, spraying water in glittering arcs. Ylfa could handle one tame wyvern - two if she was lucky. But twelve? Thirteen? More?
Impossible.

A shrill cry split the air. One of the wyverns suddenly faltered, plunging into the lake with a violent crash, its wings sheared away as though cut by invisible steel. Ylfa breathed steadily, forcing calm into her lungs. She doubted she could defeat all six Formys on her own - but she had no choice.

Eny looked up at her, confusion tightening into worry.
“Mama? Are we going to die?”

Despite everything, Ylfa smiled.

“No, honey. We’re not. We just have to stop some bad guys.”

Eny frowned.
“That’s not what your mind said.”

Ylfa winced.
“Oh… don’t worry about that, okay? We’ll be fine. Papa’s protecting us.”

Eny considered this, then gave a bright little nod.
“Okay!”

Ylfa squeezed her hand, then glanced back to the sky.

Jere was a blur - black wings slicing through the chaos. The element of surprise was gone, and the wyverns had regrouped, chasing him through the air in a tightening spiral. They swarmed Jere from every angle, forcing him into constant evasive patterns. Whenever he dove in for a kill, another wyvern hurled a fireball that forced him to peel away. He could fight them indefinitely, but he was doing three things at once: engaging the squadron, monitoring Ylfa, and updating every calculation in real time. His processors were burning hot.

He shot straight upward, spiraling tightly. Then - with a sharp beat of his wings - he reversed direction, letting gravity grab him. He tumbled uncontrolled for half a second before his wings snapped open with a whipcrack of air. He dived on a target: a massive wyvern with a spined back and thick, leathery wings fighting to bring its bulk around. The rider on its back stared up, wide-eyed, as death dropped toward him.

Jere’s wing sliced cleanly through the wyvern’s neck. The beast toppled, rolling into the lake in an eruption of spray. Jere banked hard, flicking his gaze toward Ylfa, confirming her position, then shot toward his next mark.

A fireball roared up at him. He jerked back, the air around him shimmering with heat as it barely missed. Fifteen kilotons of explosive magic streaked past and vanished into the horizon. Even he wasn’t arrogant enough to take one head-on - those could atomise him.

He rolled, searching for a break in the formation, any blind spot between those glowing, fire-spitting jaws. He checked on Ylfa again.

The Formys were nearly on her.

He angled to help-

And froze.

The wyverns weren’t trying to kill him anymore.

They had formed a wall - a shifting, coordinated aerial barrier - between him and the shore. If he charged them, even for a second, he would be met with a barrage of fireballs dense enough that no creature alive could dodge them all.

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar ache blooming beneath the armour of his ribs.

He couldn’t get to her.

He couldn’t protect her.

He couldn’t do the one thing he promised.

Ylfa understood the movements instantly.
She was being cut off from Jere.

She braced herself as fireballs ignited above the Formys’ hands, blazing spheres poised to launch, while others drew steel with murderous intent. Ylfa formed her own fireball in a heartbeat and hurled it first. It streaked through the trees like a comet, smoke and embers trailing, before slamming into the ground and evaporating one of the demons in a burst of heat.

Five left.

Another fireball shot toward her - but she had already anticipated it. She scooped Eny up with her left arm, holding the girl tight against her shoulder as she spun aside. The blast tore past her, singing her hair. Her turn continued, letting her watch its trajectory-

-and she felt the impact as it struck the cabin.

The resulting explosion tore through the building, splinters erupting outward like shrapnel. Half the home she had dared to love, dared to call theirs, vanished in a deafening blast. Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back and fired again. Her shot missed - but her follow-up did not.

Four left.
Three.

Her mind raced.
Where was the fourth? The angles weren’t right - the spacing didn’t match-

But she had no time.

Another fireball hurtled toward her. She countered with her own, vaporising yet another Formy and reducing their ancient, dying species by one more.

Then she felt it.

Something was wrong.
That last shot should have been easily dodged. No attempt had been made.
A pattern - too uniform. Too self-sacrificial.

Her instincts shrieked.

She dashed sideways - but too late.

A Formy materialised beside her, sword already carving downward. They had been sacrificing themselves to give this one a clean strike. The blade missed her heart only because she’d moved at the last instant - but it sheared straight through her upper arm, severing it completely.

Agony ripped through her.
She screamed.

But adrenaline flooded in, and she turned with brutal precision, pivoting on her knees as blood sprayed out in an arc. She used the arm still holding Eny to thrust her palm backward-

-and the Formy behind her vanished in a blast of white-hot magic.

But that was it.
She was spent.
Bleeding out.
And two Formys remained - one charging with a fireball, the other with a longsword raised high.

They would reach her before she could breathe again.

Ylfa turned to face death.

But the killing blow never came.

Instead, both Formys collapsed mid-stride, their bodies skidding through the grass. Their heads tumbled forward, momentum carrying them the last few metres before rolling to a stop at her feet.

For a heartbeat she didn’t understand.

Then she saw him.

Jere - climbing away, blue wisps curling ghostlike around his wings. He had carved through them in an impossible instant.

Ylfa collapsed to her knees.

Safe.
Not forever - maybe not even for long - but safe now.

Eny looked up from where she was held against Ylfa’s chest.

“Mama? Are you okay?”

Ylfa glanced at the stump where her arm had been, blood dripping steadily into the grass. Pain was rising sharp and fast now, twisting her face despite her best efforts. She forced a nod.

“I’m okay. We’re okay. Papa saved us. Just like I told you he would.”

Eny clearly didn’t believe it - her little brows scrunched doubtfully - but she still nodded and wrapped her arms around Ylfa’s neck, clinging tight.

Ylfa hugged her with her remaining arm, tears running freely now.

She needed to stop the bleeding soon.
She knew that.
She could already feel her thoughts fraying.

But for this moment - for one fragile, precious second-

They were safe.