One sigil after another appeared, burning red hot on pitch black parchment in Jillian’s thoughts. The runes were clearly defined, each curvature and line in perfect accordance to how the dwellers below first conceived their wicked language. With each rune that was etched into the canvas of darkness, a voice that only Jillian knew – how she heard herself – read the symbols aloud, pronouncing them with the same degree of certainty and precision as any demon would. She was so invested in her focus on [i]Hail of Ruin’s[/i] incantation that she did not take notice of Gerald’s dismissive sigh, and only when he spoke up did her viridian eyes shoot open, the scorched writing all but gone, like ashes in the wind.

“You were wishing for an explosion?” she incredulously asked, somewhat upset by his lack of confidence in her choice and ability, “Do you realize you’ll have more explosions on your hands than you can count? I said trust me, why can’t you for once?”

He didn’t think her capable, was that it? He looked down on her just like the teachers at the academy did, presumptuous and prejudiced as they were. They had done the same things, in the end; reprimand her for not using a more appropriate spell, belittle her for not diligently writing down every piece of wisdom she had picked up. They had failed to see her true potential. They had failed to understand the sheer power contained within but a single, scornful word. Gerald made the same mistake, and she was all the more determined to show him what it meant to be a witch. If [i]Hail of Ruin[/i] did not kill all the wyverns on the first attempt, she would cast it again, and again if need be. She would not be satisfied until the skies were shrouded in clouds of ashes and fire, and a rain of blood would pour down onto the earth. He would learn not to doubt her, she broodingly thought while revealing little of her thoughts to him; her expression was stern and serious, but not too affected by emotion.

Whether or not Gerald chose to continue this discussion, they were hard pressed for time either way, and deciding that he did not want to expose his other allies to collateral damage from Jillian’s spells, he began jogging northwards to a different tree line from where it would become less likely, but not impossible for stray bolts to hit the defenders.

“Let’s go,” he rasped, clearly uncomfortable with physical activity even though his speed was nothing too impressive. Jillian put one hand on her silver sword to prevent it from moving too much while she ran, while using the other to grasp at her excuse for a skirt, pulling it to just about her knees so she would not trip over it, and then followed the necromancer with little effort. Jillian was far from being in a perfect bodily condition; she was weak, short, lacked endurance and was almost sickly thin, but compared to Gerald her woes seemed insignificant. In fact, she had not even realized that they were similarly aged, for Gerald seemed almost elderly in his stature, even if his face betrayed a certain youth.

As they paced towards the north, Jillian cast a glance towards the battlefield, immediately spotting the broad-shouldered wyrmslayer as this one circled around Salas, displaying a surprising amount of tactical wit and intelligence for someone as brutish as he. Perhaps he wasn’t as stupid as she had first assumed? Well, it didn’t matter. The creep of a wind elementalist had to deal with it, not her; she had bigger fish to fry, such as a sky full of wyverns. A pair of worried, green eyes gazed at the scaled beasts soaring above, screeching and threatening to descend upon their prey. It sent a shiver down her delicate spine, but she tore her eyes from the hideous sight and clenched her fist around the silver sword’s hilt. As unlikely as it had seemed, the outcome of this battle ultimately depended upon her; there was no room for fear.

[i]I have to kill them.[/i]

She sighed through her teeth, building up fury to replace dread.

[i]I will murder every single one of them. You’ll see, Gerald![/i]

Her poisonous eyes stared at the black-clad magician.