<div>


    CHAPTER SIXTY THREE


    <div>


    <div>


    An army of angry shadows flow across the forest floor. Weaving in between the trees, over roots, and fallen logs. All in pursuit of a diminutive figure, who herself chases after the setting sun. Scrambling after the fading warmth of those crepuscular rays, even as the tide of liquid darkness at her back rushes onward. Never ending, as if heralding the night. As the sun dips further and further below the distant horizon, the creeping shadows, in turn, grow bolder and bolder.


    <div>


    Rapidly, they close the distance, several thousand of them all told.


    <div>


    Shadows dart forth, overtaking her. A streaking blur of tangled hair and amber eyes. The tide of blackness sweeping to either side with impunity. The rushing river to her standing stone. They flank her. Hem her in on all sides. Even as she flits between the trees with as much, if not more alacrity than they’ve ever shown.


    <div>


    Night descends, and the shadows take on new life. Rising from the earth to take on new dimensions. New forms which fluctuate wildly. Without rhyme or reason. A pack of loping wolves one second, an armored cavalry charge the next. And then there was Penelope. About which gray sparks burst to life. Bobbing wisps of flame like fireflies all over, which, in an instant, swell into a sea of sparks—resembling a night sky of constellations.


    <div>


    A menagerie of fantastical shadow creatures take that very moment to converge. Birds of prey descending from above. A knightly cavalry charging from one side, all the animals of Central Park Zoo stampeding from the other. Shadowy brambles pantomiming spearing up through the earth. Shooting up to grab hold, tear, rend. Penelope and her sparks a flickering candlelight, standing alone amidst a world of angry darkness. Straights undeniably dire, until that flickering flame becomes a raging bonfire. Pillars of scorching fire ripping through the shade like tissue paper.


    <div>


    Then, the spearing light-show is set to spin.


    <div>


    A whirring disco ball of wholesale destruction. Tearing into shadow creatures and tree’s alike. Leaving naught but scorched earth, charred trunks, and white ash behind. Bits of shadow slink away from the disaster zone. Pooling at the edges of the charred crater to lick their wounds. Lie in wait. Rest and recuperate. Penelope, meanwhile, gathers as much of the scorch aspected mana as she can before the other aspects take their due.


    <div>


    She manages to recover about half of what she’d spent by the time the jumble of aspects becomes too much to sift through. Which was about a quarter of what she’d initially started out with. Not great, in other words. Especially since, without her teacher, she was at a loss on how to create more.


    <div>


    Uncaring of her plight, and, in fact, greatly encouraged by it, the army of shadows begin to encroach upon her space once more. They dart across the forest floor like snaking vines. Vines which converge to form humanoid shadows. Silhouettes which peel themselves from the ground as if picking themselves up off the floor. And suddenly, three armed and armored figures stand before her.


    <div>


    Everything, from their race, to their equipment, varying wildly. Indeed, the only thing that they all shared were their ghastly expressions. Jaws locked in a perpetual scream—their heads shuddering, vibrating, as if fluctuating through space and time. Even as their bodies fall into practiced, battle ready stances.


    <div>


    Another of mean cat man’s dirty tricks. One of only three or four she knew of. He could throw lots her way, or only a few. And had done, on more than one occasion. The many, in her experience, were easy enough to take care of, but the few… they had proven far more wily. That fact not helped least of all by his third trick.


    <div>


    The shadow creature to the far left—an enormous Minotaur with little armor and a massive battle axe several times her size—steps forward, and promptly disappears into thin air. Not even giving her time to wonder after where he’d gone, the other two—one an aquatic, fish-faced assassin, and the other a traditionally human looking swordsman, converge. The assassin flanking to the side even as the swordsman darts in with a frontal assault.


    <div>


    His blade flashes in a practiced sequence, far too fast for Penelope to follow. Each of his swift strikes clanging off the sphere of hardened mana she’d coalesced the second she realized what she was up against. The constant barrage carving small divots and raining down chips of condensed mana, but nothing she couldn’t repair just as fast.


    <div>


    Which could only mean one thing.


    <div>


    Penelope begins to break off glowing gray embers from the ball of scorch aspected mana hovering above her head. Preemptively fueling those sparks with un-aspected mana from her core. Stoking the flames, even as she involuntarily dilutes their aspect potency.


    <div>


    Though, to be fair, Penelope had never actually been fooled to begin with.


    <div>


    At the cost of her very own mana, Penelope reinforces the crystalline structure at her back. Padding on the layers, and just in time to stymie the two daggers aiming for her heart and lungs. Instead of piercing straight through her protections, they dig in half an inch before becoming stuck.


    <div>


    The assassin’s terrified eyes growing wide in surprise as she spins. A cone of gray fire obliterating it’s torso. Or at least it would have, were it any normal shadow creature. Instead, the fish-faced assassin manages to slink away with only a few burns. Though it’s daggers, most notably remain behind.


    <div>


    In a rare fit of peak, she lashes out with a mana tendril. Wrapping it around the creatures waist, she squeezes. Only for it’s body to slip from her grasp to form a pool of liquid shadow. Shadow which then reforms into the fish-faced assassin—fresh, unharmed, and with a familiar set of daggers in each hand.


    <div>


    Penelope pouts. Shrugs. Ignores the assassin as he renews his assault.


    <div>


    Once again, Penelope was not fooled. This mean cat man was a devious creature, to be sure. Indeed, he was almost as devious as her teacher. True to form, she’d pretended as if she were giving the two main attackers her full attention, while all along, she’d been waiting for…


    <div>


    An axe descends from above, a bulky minotaur trailing after it. Both appearing as if from thin air to cleave her protective bubble in twain. That was perfectly fine however, seeing as Penelope was no longer inside of it.


    <div>


    The ambient mana alerted the second the minotaur reappeared from wherever it was they all went. And, at her direction, shoving her out of harms way the second it made contact.


    Stolen story; please report.


    <div>


    THOOM!


    <div>


    The massive axe buries itself in the scorched earth, sending up a geyser of dirt and ash high up into the sky. Quickly settling to form an impenetrable cloud of grit. An impenetrable cloud which was then swept aside by a sweeping pillar of fire the width of a draft horse—catching all three of the shadow creatures in turn. Scorching them away until they were nothing but charr and ash.


    <div>


    Either that, or they’d been teleported away in the nick of time—just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.


    <div>


    Not knowing which it was, or what to expect from the devious feline, she ultimately decides on the tried and true method. She makes for the hills. Hoping to preserve her special, scorch aspected mana, as well as her life, for as long as it took for help to arrive.


    <div>


    Her teacher could not come back soon enough.


    <div>


    +++


    <div>


    Denise was quickly coming to realize that striking an unmoving target, and one in complete control of their faculties, were two very different things.


    <div>


    Denise swung, parting the smoke laden air. Her blade singing as it failed to make contact. Looming figures stalked her through the smoke and confusion. Occasionally they raised their rifles and fired, though the plasma always turned to vapor well before it reached her. Thus secure in her immunity, she brazenly went on the attack.


    <div>


    She exploded due east, dirt kicked up by tattered sneakers. Locked eyes with the nearest reptilian, several head heights above her. Where she should’ve seen fear, however, there was only contempt. She scowled. The beast man didn’t so much as bat an eye. Long legged, she ate up the distance. With her next stride, she held her blade to her side. Dug in her heels. Performed an upward slash. Sword tip flirting with the creatures bare pelvis.


    <div>


    Drawing an invisible line from hip to collarbone.


    <div>


    With almost casual ease, however, the reptilian stepped back and to the side. Evading her strike completely, he moved with an almost liquid grace. Off balance, she was in no position to do likewise, as four claws raked across her face. Her head snapped to the side, so fast, it was a wonder it didn’t break her neck. Then four more lines of pain batted her head the other way, accompanied by the release of sparks. Denise sent stumbling, arms pinwheeling, the world spinning uncontrollably.


    <div>


    More blows came. Falling upon her like rain. Her vision eclipsed by bestial faces and orange sparks. Her Steel Bulwark warding her skin against their coordinated assault, though for how long was the million dollar question.


    <div>


    <div>


    “Singsong Rhapsody…” Denise croaked.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    Maya of all things, laid down suppressive fire. Lacking any other recourse but to suck it up, Denise made to turn and join up with the other’s proper, when she happened upon a convenient outlet for her frustration.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>