"Ha… lame…" Warrex muttered, eyelids fluttering shut mid-complaint. He started snoring before anyone could even throw him a dirty look.
Jefferson bristled, half-offended, half-relieved. "Typical. The fool's still himself."
"Don't sulk, brother," Monroe chirped, running fingertips along the polished gold walls with open admiration. "It's clearly an expression of deep respect for the craftsmanship."
Outside, beasts kept throwing themselves uselessly at the barrier. They struck hard, slid off harder, regrouped, tried again. The trapped ones inside shuffled forward like prisoners, feet dragging stubbornly through resentful grass. Underneath them, the Convention droned—a low, persistent hum vibrating through earth and bone.
At Eisenhower's raised hand, a ribbon of glowing pavement emerged from nothing, skirting from his feet all the way to the barrier and along the barrier's inner edge. He turned politely to Zehrina. "The Convention's secure for now, Lady Zehrina. Care for a stroll?"
Without a reply, she stepped onto the pathway and they zoomed off to the border of the barrier. Zehrina's fingers reached toward the wall, sinking tiny strands of Navi'N into it and pulling them back with silent precision. Eisenhower watched quietly for a beat, then risked a gentle prod. "Merely thoroughness, or is something wrong?"
Zehrina continued to ignore him. Instead, she kept probing, listening to whatever silent answer the wall was giving her. She only paused when the grassy border gave way, revealing movement behind the barrier's outer edge.
Heavier shapes emerged from the grass, shoulders set, pushing into the barrier as if they could shove their way through solid steel by sheer force of will. Muscles quivered. Bones buckled. Several lost their nerve immediately and fled. Those too slow caught a sudden, precise slash of black dust across ankles, then ribs, collapsing into the tide outside.
Then another shape stepped forward, humanoid but contorted, bones stretched and twisted into mockery. Its jaw dropped low, absurdly wide, snarling at nothing as it pressed forward. One step past the boundary and it sagged like a puppet without strings then forced itself forward again.
Zehrina stepped onto a narrow ribbon of dust and rode to meet it. The swarm folded and set as a sphere around the torso, everything sealed except the head. Teeth snapped at black air; the sound died against the surface.
"Call Grant. I want this one tested," she said before Eisenhower drew a path to Grant.
Moments later, Grant arrived with heat still ghosting from his shoulders. He stopped three paces off and thumped his chest. "All corners of the zone have been cleared, Lady Zehrina."
"The walls hold," she said. "The ones who make it through do not lack nerve. This one is yours if you want it."
"You are too kind. I would like nothing more."
The dust sphere unzipped with a wet hiss. A shape hit the ground on one knee, claws already digging trenches as it launched. Metal rang when Grant caught the rush on crossed forearms, the impact driving him half a step back across the grass.
Sparks jumped as claws screeched. Grant dropped a heel onto the creature's instep and felt something soft give under the strike. Its weight faltered just long enough for him to send a palm up under the jaw; the crack that followed sounded like a bolt sliding into place. He rolled the momentum sideways and drove an elbow into the side of its skull, turning its head with mechanical malice.
The thing adapted mid-stagger. Spurs slid out from its forearms with a squidlike shimmer and carved lines across Grant's chestplate. Armor sang, Grant ignored it and stepped into the creature's reach. His hip caught its elbow, his knee rose hard into the gut, and the whole body folded over him like a busted hinge. One breath later, it snapped upright again, eyes wide and shining with something feral.
Grant's shoulder vents brightened with a warning glow. Runes fluttered along his arms, signaling the fire building in his core. He grounded his feet, let the heat coil inside him, and drove his power into the mechanics of the fight rather than the flame.
Breath rasped through the creature's throat as it feinted right. The real strike came for his face, fast and messy. Grant lifted both hands in what looked like a flinch, then turned the motion inside out. A hammerfist came down diagonal, shoulder to hip, brutal through collar, chest, ribs. Plates flattened. Something inside the creature caved with a wet, wooden crack.
It hit the ground hard, the grass bowing under the dead weight of whatever the hell it had been trying to be.
Grant rolled his shoulders and grinned. "Tough little bastard. Can I have another?"
That earned the faintest tilt at the corner of Zehrina's mouth. She lifted herself on a column of dust and spoke down to the line. "Keep this place locked down. If anything feels off, you call me. I don't care how small it is. Call. Me."
Grant nodded, planted his feet and tipped his chin up. "What are you going to do?"
"Stretch my legs. The things out there think they own this floor." she replied, and rose. "I'll teach them what happens to those who attack us."
She laid her palm flat against the Convention's barrier, and it split around her touch, unraveling like silk ribbons. Before she stepped through, a spectral passport shimmered into existence, fluttering down into her waiting hand. She glanced at it once, scoffed softly, and flicked it aside; the phantom document dissolved mid-air, forgotten before it touched the ground.
Through the gap she rose, dust swirling tight around her as she shot skyward, slicing straight toward the rough-hewn ceiling. She slowed only when her fingertips nearly grazed stone, then tilted smoothly toward the west, skimming the shadows in a whisper-quiet glide.
Below her, the landscape opened up, a vast expanse of green fields that stretched out like an undulating, verdant sea. In the distance, distinct, blocky structures broke the smooth line of the false horizon and stood out starkly against the manufactured sky above. She could discern rough-hewn walls, topped with short, defensive parapets. Thin columns of smoke from torches rose straight up into the air, perfectly vertical. Along the walls, figures walked back and forth with precise, rhythmic spacing, their movements suggesting a patrol. Each held a short halberd, its head pointed straight toward the sky.
"You have got to be kidding me. They built themselves a little kingdom down here," she said under her breath.
A scream of wind warned her. A twisted spiral of stone, honed to a wicked point, sliced the air on a path straight to her ribs. She met it with a sudden, flat wall of dust. The impact fractured the silence like a rifle shot. The spear spun away, and to Zehrina's mild surprise, the stone point was barely marred.
Below, two dozen squat, humanoid creatures stood half-hidden in the tall grass, staring up. One let out a hard, piping sequence of cries. At the signal, the rest broke and scattered, vanishing into the green cover.
"Run if you want. Everything that crawls dies the same," Zehrina said, lifting both hands.
Navi'N gathered above her in a high, thin cloud, writhing in time with the subtle movements of her wrists. Frosted Lightning arced from her palms in relentless volleys, crashing into the black mass until it glowed white-hot from within, threaded by pulses of icy blue. Zehrina curled her fingers; the cloud folded in on itself, compressing into a humming disc no larger than a clenched fist.
Looking skyward from inside the barrier, Grant shifted uneasily. "What is she—?"
"Quiet," Eisenhower cut him off. "This could be bad."
The disk spun faster, a razor whine slicing through the silence. With a delicate twist of her wrist, Zehrina guided it down toward the grass below. Just before impact, her hand opened, releasing all restraint. In an instant, the compressed fury exploded outward, expanding several hundred feet across, too fast for eyes to follow.
"Hailstorm of the Navi'N," Zehrina whispered.
Light detonated across the plain, blinding and merciless. Lightning wove through the spreading storm-disk, racing downward in brutal spears thick as posts. Hailstones big as fists tore through the tall grass and did not slow. A horned monster raised a shield, ice shattered iron, punching cleanly through its shield and body the same. A screeching monster unfurled its wings and leaped skyward. A moment later, it hung midair, impaled and twitching, pinned like a moth by icy spikes through wing and chest. A robed caster scrambled to conjure a ward; lightning snaked through the sigil, unraveling its runes with ease.
Zehrina lowered her hands, eyes empty, watching her storm erase the field. Screams erupted in a jagged ring, then faded quickly.
A handful of larger shapes staggered upright inside the scoured circle, desperately scrambling toward the cover of tall grass. Zehrina's fingers flicked, scattering the dust that had spent its fury. In a single ruthless sweep, the Navi'N shaved the grass flat, end-to-end, leaving the field as barren as a wound. Eight survivors remained, each more twisted than the last. Nightmares shaped from flesh. A plated centipede with the soft, pleading face of a human; a bull-thing lumbering forward with far too many eyes and one grotesque arm; a crawler with elongated limbs that bent and twisted in places bones shouldn't allow.
Thin streams of Navi'N pierced their chests in swift succession. Bodies collapsed and crumbled, leaving only the dry tapping of trinkets hitting the dirt. Zehrina's dust flowed forward, quietly gathering the scattered fragments of metal and glass the dead had shed. It wrapped the small treasures neatly into a ribbon-like fold and casually tossed the bundle toward the barrier, landing it softly near the two watching Presidroids.
Movement erupted from the distant walls. Shapes poured from the crude gates, forming a loose wedge that hurtled across the open field, iron weapons and raw magic flung ahead of their charge. Zehrina rose smoothly into the air to meet them, the Navi'N unspooling before her like a hungry cloak. Arrows disappeared silently into the black. Fire was swallowed whole, its brightness stolen. The cloak feasted, growing dense until its edges bled a soft, ominous glow.
She rose further through the storm-cloud, breaking free at its summit, and clenched her fist again. Once more the cloud shrank obediently, hardening into a furious, spinning disk. The air buzzed in tight, deadly resonance. A short, sharp laugh escaped her lips as she lifted it high.
"Let's hope the king of this group isn't among this mound of soon to be corpses," she said softly, and drove the wheel into the leading edge of their ranks.
The disk ruptured. Every ounce of stolen energy detonated back into the field. Magic returned mercilessly, slamming into the very casters who'd unleashed it and blasting them skyward. Hail punched straight through bodies shoulder to shoulder. Lightning danced viciously down the formation, splitting flesh and bone, leaving white-hot wounds steaming in the aftermath.
The monsters scattered instantly, dissolving into shapes dragging themselves desperately back toward the distant castle walls.
Inside the barrier, Eisenhower kept his eyes on her silhouette. "We need the Captain," he said, voice lower than his face. "She is close to the edge."
Eisenhower's palm lit. Out on the plain, Zehrina raised both hands again and the dust climbed her arms like smoke ready to ignite. The road's light hummed along the wall as Eisenhower and Grant rode the pavement all the way back to Lutrian.
"Captain, you have to call Zehrina…"