The fight was more than epic, and if it weren't for the magical barrier that separated the whole camp from the outside world, any watching would have seen the sparks of energy flying. Mirin deftly avoided the claws and fangs of the espers who had transformed into beasts, and avoided the myriad of spells sent crashing into her. Her eyes glowed with a ferocity as she pulled from the very fabric of the weave to defeat the man who had commandeered her mother.
Then, the unthinkable. From the inside of Ruthivan's tent came her mother, aided by an elderly esper who obviously had freed her. Mirin lifted her hand to stop her mother, and was blind sided by a blast to her chest. She slid on the ground as the transformed beasts surrounded her. She could hear Ruthivan's deep growling laughter, then a scream followed by the sound of bones cracking.
Mirin opened her eyes and her heart froze. Her mother lay beside her, a crumpled heap of robes, and Ruthivan - now himself again - dropped to his knees, howling for a healer. None of the others moved as Mirin pushed herself up, her head throbbing with a thunderous ache. She watched the healer rush forward, sweating, panting, weaving spells that did nothing.
"She... she's..." the old one babbled, and Ruthivan grabbed the man by his robes and snatched him to his face. "You'd better not say she's dead," Ruthivan howled in a broken voice.
"I'm... I'm sorry..."
"FIX HER!" Ruthivan shouted, then grabbed his chest. "No, no no no..."
Mirin exhaled and dropped onto the ground at exactly the same moment that Ruthivan felt his bond with Claire shatter into nothingness.
