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[color=black][b]PART V: THE WITCHES DEN[/b][/color]

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[i][color=E3485D]“Faciam quodlibet quod necesse est.”[/color][/i] Pythia muttered underneath her breath.

It was an old adage from an even older language. The lingua deus—god’s tongue. Pythia hadn’t spoken in it often, though from all the work she did reading scripture and literature alike it came naturally. Maybe it was the imperial blood in her that made it leave her lips in such a manner. 

She sighed, as she held out her sword, the magical energies drawing themselves to her storm-like ether, almost like a magnet. The Ifrise Forest was huge, an expanse of wilderness that served as a buffer between three different provinces and multiple city-states. Though she had been leading her group through the brush for what seemed like hours, it had felt like literal [i]years[/i]. 

It was unbearable that she was surrounded by such a collective of imbeciles, can-nots, and eccentrics. 

Pythia had initially liked Etoile, the blonde who was by her first impressions at the very least competent. She wasn’t like the moron Zestasia or the dunderhead Pagonia, so she believed that between the two of them they would be able to weather the storm. Of course, as everybody in Pythia’s life had at some point, Etoile turned to eventually disappoint her. Despite being attuned to the air, the blonde magi seemed utterly incapable of tracking things through it. For how formally she moved and how much authority she commanded, in the end she was just another failure. Such things made Pythia worry about the coming battle. 

Her brows narrowed as she focused. The magic in the air was getting [i]dense[/i]. They were close to the epicenter.

Pythia still wasn’t sure about the plan. Walking into the den of an insane magi was to court death itself, but going into the den was better than the alternative of dropping her weapon and hoping for the best. Even had her companions been the best magi in the whole universe and Pythia still would’ve felt nervous. She worked better alone. Depending on people always backfired. 

[color=E3485D]“The magic is too dense to navigate through.”[/color] She commented, as she lowered her sheath, holding it freely without attaching back to her hip. [color=E3485D]“It's about to get pretty dangerous.”[/color]

[color=dodgerblue]“Right. How do we want to do this, Red?”[/color]

Pythia looked back to the silver-haired boy as she considered the question.

Given the birds and the krovar, there was no telling what was ahead of them. She personally needed to be cautious with using magic. If she unsheathed her sword she would be at full-power, but it’d also be a lightning rod for anyone within fifty miles of the area who could sense magic. Judas was a powerful artifact and probably the strongest foci not held in the inquisitors personal armory. It would certainly make the fight quick, but the inquisitors would likely move their focus on them as soon as the birds and whoever was controlling them were dealt with. It was a thought, perhaps the only thought that could, that made Pythia nervous.

She had unsheathed the sword once before and the closest thing to family had died in the process. She wasn't keen on repeating that process again.

[color=E3485D]“There will likely be more monsters. Birds. Krovar. Maybe something else. Who knows what this magi has twisted and shaped in this forest. We go in dumb and loud, or cautious and smart. You know my preference.”[/color]


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