Ingrid anticipated the shadow's move and was already diving to save the mortal. Doing so, her staff spiraled out of her grip and somewhere below.

Forgive me, she thought as she headed instead for the screaming human. She prayed the unconscious one wouldn't feel a thing. The ground rushed to meet her, and she snatched the girl from the air, with her arms under her flailing legs and back.

Ingrid stumbled a landing on the street and set the girl gently down. "Stay here," she commanded. She got no response as the mortal just crouched on her knees in hysteria. Ingrid couldn't blame her.

"You dropped something."

Ingrid had never been happier to hear the young girl's voice. Meiren held the unconscious human with great difficulty, furiously beating her speckled grey wings to keep from dropping herself and the mortal. Even with the Sayidat enhanced strength, Meiren still had the body of a nine year old girl.

After checking the motionless girl's pulse for a steady beat, they hid her in an alleyway. Ingrid turned to her younger peer in curiosity.

"Where the hell were you guys?"

Meiren's cobalt blue eyes flashed at the older girl. "Trying to save mortals from burning buildings. Where the hell were you? Why didn't you radio us?"

Ingrid bit her lip in shame. "My walkie got smashed," she admitted.

"How did that happen?"

"I'd rather not say."

Ingrid looked up and down at Meiren. Like Ingrid herself, her clothes were rumpled from weeks on the move, and in some places scorched holes from dodging fireballs had burned through the girl's cotton sweatshirt. Her long, blonde hair cascaded freely over her folded wings down to the small of her back. She wore jeans and black combat boots that seemed strangely familiar to Ingrid. Realization hit her like a fifteen ton truck.

"Are you wearing my boots?"

Meiren looked at her covered toes. "Yeah." She shrugged shamelessly.

All relief that the girl was here faded. Ingrid felt the same exasperation she always seemed to experience with Meiren. "Are they even your size?"

"You have small feet."

Ingrid seethed with petty anger. This whole time, this whole time, when she thought she'd somehow lost her boots, her poor feet were catching frostbite. She made a threatening step towards Meiren who grinned smugly in a facade of innocence.

"You little brat--"

"Ahem."

The two girls froze in place and came face to face with a very stern looking Ophelia.

"What on earth could you two be bickering about when a shadow is on the loose?"

Ingrid knew it was better not to explain, as did Meiren. "Nothing," she spat. She gave Meiren a look that said 'this is in no way over' before launching herself back into the clouds.

From her bird's eye view, Ingrid could see all of London. Smoke and sirens seemed to stretch for a mile or two. At the front of the destruction, she could see the black speck that was the creature.

The shadow was going somewhere. Maybe it was looking for a way back to the Underworld? That was a possibility, but her gut felt there was some other reason.

She was just about to go after it when Ophelia tapped her shoulder. The Sayidat's piercing gaze was full of disappointment as she held out Ingrid's staff. The bronze metal glinted in the wake of the winter sun, intricate runes of Sanskrit hand-chiseled into it.

"Have you learned nothing from me? What good do you think you'll do without this?"

Ingrid winced at her mentor's harsh words and grasped the soulbane iron staff. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, "I drop--"

Ophelia gave her no time for an excuse. Ingrid watched helplessly as her dark wings flapped furiously on ahead, leaving the poor girl hovering in humiliation.

"Got any idea what's with Phee?" Ingrid questioned Meiren as the younger girl swooped up beside her.

The nine year old pondered the question for a moment. "Dunno. But it's probably got something to do with the prophecy."

Ah, the prophecy. The vague, roughly translated riddle that made the Sayidat population quake.

Ophelia, being a high-ranking official in the Council, was one of few that had actually seen the entire thing. All Meiren and Ingrid and the rest of the Matus knew of it was the part about the Fallen Star.

The savior. The redeemer. The seer of Fate. A descendent of moon and sun.

Whatever the rest was about made their teacher uneasy, and whenever Ophelia was anxious about something, they likely had a good reason to panic.

Ingrid found panic came easily when she knew little of what she was to be afraid of.

But in the past few weeks, Phee had been a whole other dimension of unnerved. She was more paranoid about area sweeps, had them moving from city to city and era to era, and she didn't let herself sleep in the rare moments they stopped. Ingrid believed it was out of fear of having unsettling visions, which Ophelia got a lot of nowadays judging by the dark circles under her eyes.

No, they were always moving, always hunting, always defeating Underworldian creatures. Ingrid couldn't remember staying anymore than a day in a city. Ophelia claimed it was part of their training, but Ingrid had been a trainee since she was Meiren's age; something was off balance in this world she lived in.

"We should follow," Ingrid finally said. She bit her lip and glanced sideways at Meiren who nodded absentmindedly. They both knew Ophelia hardly needed them when it came to defeating shadows, and given they both didn't have the skill yet to master sucking Underworldian things out of this world, they were more often than not in the way.

It did make for a good show, though.

Ingrid felt the rush of wind that zoomed passed. Meiren, who liked to be in front, had soared over her and glided steadily ten feet away.

She wanted to scoff but instead smiled. The kid thought she was all that just because she was young for a trainee, and it was pretty cute, though most of the time irritating. Maybe she'd been that way after her younger brother, Walter, was apparently some big shot Matu in Makbatat, which she didn't fully understand the details of, but neither did the younger girl.

Ingrid had to give Meiren some credit; she was a fast learner and didn't mind the gore that accompanied beheading soulless beings. All the qualities needed for a good Sayidat.

"Where are they?" Ingrid yelled over the wind. Her feathers rippled as another icy front hit her. Adrenaline had kept her from feeling too cold, but it wasn't helping her numbed feet.

Meiren gazed down at the aftermath of the shadow's mayhem. It was crazy what one of those stupid beasts could do. Ambulances and firetrucks and police had the entire street full of stretchers and officers, and people still climbed out of demolished buildings. The mortals didn't know what had hit them.

"They can't be too far--oh! There, Ingrid, look!"

They were almost to London Bridge. A line of traffic from crashed cars and trucks that'd swerved to avoid getting scorched to death beeped, and police desperately rushed to the scene.

But just before the Bridge began, two dark specks attacked each other, the winter sun reflecting off of Ophelia's ivory staff as she fought the shadow.

Ingrid dropped and lowered slowly with Meiren. They circled downward and descended onto a building that had been untouched by the shadow. They were close enough to the battle that Ingrid could feel the power radiate off of Phee, but far enough that they weren't affected by it.

Sayidats were Matus that could harness time and use it to their will. It was born within them, but only learned to use it through intense training and years of on the go work.

Most Matus learned to use their abilities on their own since each was unique in its own way. Finding two Matus or Hiwans with similar abilities wasn't rare, but their skills could exceed their powers depending on how strong they were as a person.

This was not so for Sayidats. Once a Matu was deemed a Sayidat, they were trained to become part of the Council; the wise group of every trained Sayidat in the world and the order of the universe rested heavily on their shoulders. And it took centuries of work to master the trade.

Ingrid couldn't remember how long she'd trained, or even how old she was. Outwardly, she was a sixteen year old girl. But all Sayidats aged slowly. She guessed she was maybe five thousand or so years old, and Meiren was almost two thousand.

She'd have to ask Phee. But not now, since her mentor was currently kicking ass on the battlefield.

Ingrid watched in awe as Ophelia dodged yet another column of fire effortlessly. How she managed to dance around the shadow, controlling time and making beautiful jabs at it with her staff, Ingrid had no idea.

The shadow knew all too late it was no match for the Lady of Time. It'd stupidly drained all its energy on terrorizing the humans, and was now paying dearly for it.

The winged creature had been rendered flightless as Ophelia dived down over its back, tucking in as it swung a lamppost at her, then in midair she made a crippling blow to its wings. The shadow screamed in pain and fell to the rubble. Its bat wings jutted out at odd angles and the ash scales dripped in its sable blood.

Ophelia landed in front of it. Her ebony skin barely broke a sweat, and she wasn't even a little bit out of breath. The shadow was doomed from the moment she arrived, and it knew so.

"C'mon," Meiren urged Ingrid. Like a five-year-old, a more fitting age to describe how Meiren acted, the girl pulled at her hand. Her electric eyes flared in excitement. "I want to see her cast it."

Ingrid sighed. "You know how Ophelia doesn't like us getting close when she casts. Besides, she's already pissed with me."

Meiren rolled her eyes. "Does it look like I care? She's been moody since we were on the Isle."

Ingrid finally gave up and floated down to get a better view of the final round. It was the best part, she had to admit.

They hid behind an over turned van so as not to distract Phee. Meiren was practically on top of the steaming vehicle, and Ingrid kept a wary hand on the girl's back in case she bolted. Getting too close to a casting could get one unintentionally sucked in.

Ophelia was talking to the shadow, but she spoke in such a low and calculated voice, Ingrid could only catch a couple of words. She had her right arm stretched out with her palm facing it, keeping it frozen in time. Ingrid could feel the atmosphere grow slower by the millisecond as the power dripped and spun from the Lady of Time's fingers like cobwebs from a spider.

It was beautiful.

The shadow tried to break itself free from its prison in Time but to no avail. It growled and hissed in the language of the Dead, at times crossing back into Arabic and then the Underworld tongue, and then English.

"--you think you've won!" it howled in pain. Obsidian blood spurted from its mouth and mixed with the crimson mortal blood on its fangs, dripping down over its chin and neck. "Chaos isn't done with your kind. Not until you're all ash lying in a pit of decay.

"He's not finished. He hasn't started! You think your Star will save you? Your little savior can suck--" and he switched back to the tongue of the Dead.

She had zero interest in learning the language of Downside, though Ophelia had promised it'd come in handy. Ingrid already had her plate full in learning Arabic and Sanskrit, the two origin languages that Matus used universally to communicate. It was a crucial part of being a Sayidat.

Again, Phee said something inaudible to the shadow, which only made it throw back its head and laugh. As it darkly chuckled, Ingrid got a good look at its bloodied fangs.

In the midst of its laughing, it said something. Ingrid thought maybe it was in Arabic. She was sure she'd heard some familiar words.

'Ana last huna wahdah.

Whatever it'd said had gotten to Ophelia. Her dark eyes flashed, and the fires of hell reflected in her irises. Which Ingrid knew meant a very bad thing for the shadow.

With her time hold still on the beast, Ophelia reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out something that glinted and swung from her hand. Her casting rune.

Runes were different for every Sayidat. Once trainee Sayidats found their runes, it was a sign from Fate that they were ready to learn casting, which was, again, the final step in becoming a full Lady of Time and member of Council.

It was the only object Ladies of Council used to channel Time through and was essential for casting shadows into the Nothing dimension, a black hole in time where the cursed beings got to spend all of eternity in.

From there, they could never reincarnate, therefore never bothering anyone or thing ever again. It was more permanent than death, which was why killing shadows and hunters was so frowned upon. It did nothing but set aside work that would have to be finished later.

Ophelia's casting rune was simple. It was a diamond ring that she kept on a silver chain. Like all runes, it was crafted from soulbane iron.

She held it over the shadow and it began to glow bright, brighter and brighter until Ingrid had to blink a couple of times before closing her eyes.

Bit by bit, the shadow was sucked into the rune, where it'd enter the Nothing. Particle by particle, it was gone forever.

Even though the shadow was forever gone, it's final words still echoed within Ingrid's brain. Why couldn't she translate them?

'Ana last huna wahdah.

'Ana last huna wahdah.

And then something became evidently clear as she and Meiren turned around only to see the smoky, shifting face of a between walker.

I'm not here alone.