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Just as they discarded her body, both huffing wildly as they turned their bony faces towards each other, their orbs shifted to white at the same time.

Aleron was barrelled into by two medium-sized Demons, while three little but speedy ones attached themselves to Ingram.

It was too difficult to see past their swiping claws, chomping fangs, and a barrage of black, void-like limbs to distinguish their features. All he knew was his yelps and cries twisted and tangled with his kindred’s in the air.

Alone and separated, they fought to remove their attackers.

Crimson flared in his sight, only to be snuffed out by a flash of white as agony crawled across his bleeding flesh.

The Witch Owl cleared a spot above him so he could see the trees. Her shriek was an infuriated war cry as she slammed a glinting silver dagger into the back of a Demon’s neck.

The first beast she’d managed to rid him of turned from where she’d dragged it back. She slashed her dagger sideways, slicing open its neck, just as Ingram dug his claws into the shoulders of the last one remaining, so he could hold it still. He slammed his short, upward-jutting goat horns forward until he had perforated its skull, then caved it in.

Silver reflected a random and rare beam of sunlight touching the ground in the Veil, as the Witch Owl’s dagger sailed through the air.

With a distinct thud, one of the medium-sized Demons shrieked as they reared back above Aleron. They clawed at the side of their neck to remove the dagger. It gave him the space and time to twist and then kick his second opponent to the ground.

Ingram ran forward to assist with a menacing, bubbling snarl, only to halt when two winged Demons landed in front of him. Their wings flared, as though they wanted to shield his sight from his kindred. Saliva flicked off their fangs when they hissed, but they didn’t approach.

The Witch Owl ducked behind them to assist Aleron in his place, her white feather cloak easy to distinguish in the darkness and mist surrounding them. For the most part, she was silent. That, or she just couldn’t be heard over Aleron’s struggles as more Demons came upon them.

One of the large, winged Demons gave Ingram their back so they could keep an eye on Aleron. The winged ones did nothing to assist the battle. They only assured that he and his kindred remained separated, both physically and from view.

At every turn in his fight, as he battled Demon after Demon, his whitened sight desperately sought Aleron.

His friend. His companion. The only person he’d truly known from the moment he’d taken his first breath in the world – and perhaps someone who had been with him even before that.

He didn’t doubt that his kindred was doing the same.

It was the longest they’d ever been separated.

Usually, they would take any chance they possibly could to create a link. Whether it be by sight, as their skulls and orbs connected over a distance, or by one brushing their elbow over some part of the other’s body. Often, they overlapped their fingers when they stood next to each other.

They shared a bond, a devotion to each other no one in this world could truly understand – at least not to the obsessive level they did.

So, to not even be able to glance at him now, had Ingram’s panic setting in. He feared; not for himself, but for his kindred.

Hearing his cries echo over the small distance made his insides crawl. Not even when a Demon bit into the side of his neck did his mind stray from the thought of seeing his kindred. To make sure he was okay.

“Aleron,”he whimpered.

He tore the shadowy beast from his throat as he bucked another off and over his skull.

There were so many claws and fangs that he was becoming numb to them. All he could feel was pain, no matter the tool inflicting the damage.

Throughout the entire time he fought, only one thought remained.I must get to Aleron.

Together they were strong. Together they were one. Together they could make it through this.

As if sensing the deep desire to return to each other, the Witch Owl took down one of the winged Demons while Ingram’s back was turned. She did not make it through the second. When she spun around, she was pinned down on her front with a three-toed claw against her backside.

Black tentacles that appeared to be made of powdered chalk and glitter shot up around the winged beast. Winding around all of its limbs in a constricting hold, the magical bindings yanked the Demon back. The sounds of bones crunching and snapping were drowned out by wet, frothing maws around him.

Its death squeal pierced the air.

The Witch Owl weakly rose to her feet but staggered to the side as her form flickered in and out of incorporeal and physical. She was severely wounded, her own blood staining her until the white of her dress ran red.

It was obvious she couldn’t properly hold her incorporeal form, becoming physical for long enough to morph into a human-sized owl. She took flight, fleeing. Even her feathers in her owl form were soaked in crimson.