“Phanza? Phanza! Wake up man!”

“Wha…wha…what happened?” Phanza asked groggily. He realized belatedly that he was on his back in the grass, and no longer holding the woman.

“You just looked down at the woman, and then went stiff. Next thing we know, you’re unconscious right next to her,” Nar volunteered.

The event came back to Phanza quickly. He focused inward, examining his innate power. He was astonished to find only a miniscule amount of energy remaining. He sat up shakily, looking over at the woman next to him. Though she remained still, her eyes burned a brilliant crimson, a pulsing beacon in the deepening darkness.

“You okay?” Nar asked, worry tingeing his usual cheerful voice.

“I’m fine. I’m not quite sure what happened, but I’m alright.”

Suddenly, the area plunged into darkness. Nar let out a yelp, and even the imperturbable Pral released a soft curse. Everyone waited a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust, and only then did Phanza notice that darkness had descended because the woman’s eyes had closed. Her breathing was deep and even, and it seemed that she was once again sleeping. He was not about probe her to find out and risk losing his remaining energy, but he touched Nar on the arm and pointed at the woman.

“I can not touch her again. See if she sleeps, but do not disturb her.”

Nar nodded, then crawled silently over. He nudged her gently on the shoulder, and was satisfied when she did not react.

“Good enough for me,” he whispered back to Phanza.

“Nar, stand back from her. No one is to come within three paces of her tonight, not until she wakes up and we can question her,” Pral commanded.

Everyone nodded, and Bertran bent to build a small fire. Normally, Pral would have forbidden this, but though he showed nothing, even he was slightly disturbed by the evening’s events. Everyone huddled around the small blaze, taking heart from the small light in the night. Hosus leaned wearily against Bertran’s shoulder, her right arm wrapped in an improvised bandage, her eyes half-shut. Phanza was feeling the consumption of his energy, and was having a difficult time remaining conscious, so he had wrapped himself in his cloak and laid down to peer into the flames.

Sleep overcame him. His unconscious mind drifted in a world of emptiness and blinding red light. It was a restless and uncomfortable night for the young mage.

Dim light filtered through her eyelids, and Johnsa squinted even though her eyes were closed. She stifled a groan when she became awake enough to register the pounding ache forming right between her eye brows. Keeping her eyes firmly clenched, she sat up, feeling around for her sword.

“Ah, she wakes,” came a voice only a few feet from her.

Despite the terrible pain behind her eyes, Johnsa’s eyes snapped open to survey her surroundings. She quickly took in the still form of a younger man, and arrayed carefully around the ashes of a small fire sat or stood six other people. She had to look again when two of them looked exactly the same, but it was the large man with a long sword slowly exiting its scabbard that made her scrabble back.

“Who are you?” she demanded roughly, her voice hoarse after the previous night’s massacre.

“We are friends,” came the reply from a lithe woman sitting in the middle of the group by the sleeping figure. The woman looked pointedly at the man drawing his sword, to which he merely shrugged and began drawing his blade along a whetting stone. She gave him another look he ignored completely before she returned her attention to Johnsa.

“My name is Hosus. I found you last night surrounded by dead Slandra, and brought you out.”

The scene of the night before came crashing back into the forefront of her mind. She remembered the engulfing tide of Slandra that had crashed against herself and her men again and again, coming ever on no matter how many fell. She remembered seeing her men being brought down one by one around her until she stood alone in a sea of slithering serpents. She could see her dead comrade whose blade she wrested from his cold grip, see her weapons slicing through enemies like butter, her vision going red in her bloodlust…and then, nothing.

“I must thank you for rescuing me. But how did you kill so many of the snakeheads?” She had been completely surrounded when she had blacked out. Outside intervention was the only explanation for her survival.

The man with the blade then looked right at Johnsa, his eyes seemingly piercing to her very soul.

“We killed none of the Slandra,” he said quietly.

Johnsa felt a rush of confusion. If they hadn’t finished off the Slandra, who had? She looked at the one calling herself Hosus pleadingly.

“You are the only survivor of your band. There are no human footsteps leading into that glade after the Slandra arrived, nor are there any departing. The only logical conclusion is…”

“That you killed them all,” came a soft voice, finishing Hosus’ statement.

Johnsa turned to regard this new speaker with fear and confusion overwhelming her. He was a young man, but his slate eyes held a weary experience that belied his youth. He returned her frightened gaze calmly, and she took some small comfort from that.

“H-h-how is that possible? I was impossibly outnumbered. I was completely surrounded and then I blacked out. It couldn’t have been me,” she nearly shouted, her breath coming in painful gasps. Only the man’s eyes kept her from fainting dead away.

“Be still,” he said gently, “all will be well.” He waved his hand in a small gesture of healing, and to everyone’s but Johnsa’s, her eyes flashed brilliantly for a moment before returning to red.

Johnsa felt a little better for some reason, and she managed to get her breathing under control. Her sniffling nose, however, refused to be mastered. When the man saw her in control of herself, he continued.

“Before we go any further, I do believe introductions are in order. My name is Phanza.”

“Johnsa,” came her surprised answer.

“Well met Johnsa,” Phanza replied, bowing his head slightly. “You have already met Hosus. The man sharpening his sword is Pral, the twins are Glyc and Wenley. The slumbering giant’s name is Bertran, and next to him is his younger brother Nar.”

Johnsa nodded to each named, though she received a guarded look from Nar, and surprisingly, gleaming smiles from Glyc and Wenley. She quickly returned her attention to Phanza expectantly.

“Tell me, what color are your eyes?” he asked suddenly.

Johnsa was confused by this rather random question. She took on a guarded look. “Blue,” she responded hesitantly, “why?”

Her suspicions were furthered heightened when the other members of Phanza’s group looked at her and then at each other furtively. Phanza was the only one who did not look away.

“Can you tell us why your eyes are now red?”

This last question completely overwhelmed Johnsa’s fragile hold on herself. She scampered back until her back was against a tree, drawing her knees up to her chest, a feral expression painted onto her features. “What are you talking about? Who are you? What have you done to me?” she screamed at the group.