The bubble came into existence on her nose, keeping her protected from the spores. Guess there was one thing good about that spell other than being used for fun. Comet watched as James raced towards her, no, she was okay! Protect yourself! She could see that there was something wrong with him already, had he inhaled the spores? She would have to run over and help, she had too! But luckily James got intercepted by the deer, someone she did not recognize, but immediately knew was good, and the horse got cured of the spores.

"RUN! RUN FAR AWAY, COMET! I'll meet you at home, I promise. Run away!! It hurt her inside to disobey this command. But this was one order that she would not listen to, could not listen to. She had to protect James! His safety was far more important than her own, and the fact that he would be staying behind to cure gembounds of the spores meant that she would be staying too. Comet ran next to the horse, and positioned herself in a defensive stance. If any of the spore infected gembounds tried anything, they would have to deal with her.

Rainstorm approached, staggering, disoriented. He lurched forward, catching sight of his daughter in his peripheral. He cursed softly under his breath and readied his magic. Why couldn't she listen just this once? When her life was on the line?

The magic came swiftly this time, more comfortable with itself and the new spell. He banished the fungus into the ground once again, the spores vaporizing on contact.

"Go and flee," James urged, and turned to Comet, "Wait at the tunnel at least- please. Guide who need guiding to safety. I will be fine, I promise."

James successfully purges Rainstorm!

Something seeping into it, something it was trying to resist, began to warm. To nauseate. It felt tethers snap, but from where? Why? Who...? Its calls went unanswered. It didn't want to be alone-- NO BEING ALONE WAS OKAY IT WAS FINE IT WAS-- Presences it could begin to hear, and above it all, a voice attempting to intrude-- 'I WILL NOT.' Do not disobey your Mother. RESIST it, Khavur. COME TO ME. COME TO ME. COME TO ME. COME TO ME. 'I WILL--'

'I will serve CHAOS.'

The abomination heaved as if it were a magnet attempting to escape another magnet's pull. It clambered, struggled its way to MASTER VARGAS. Its CREATOR. This is what is was MADE FOR. Its call, answered. Its mind made up. It reached. "I AM HERE." The beast's heads swiveled around, seeking out one of the cleansers. It approached the deer, the one that had released its fellow Sentinels from... whatever it was. "FREE ME."

She was reaching into his head again and he hated it he wanted her out he wanted her gone but that artificial calm was spreading through his veins again, trying to take control. He fought it, but it made him feel sick, it made him want to give in and let her take over because it was better then this bitter disapproval. And then...oh her voice, her voice so sickly sweet and sickeningly familiar, welcoming him back, showing him home. That's my new home. Wait. NO. No, it wasn't! Not those mountains, not that cold! Forgraves was his home, fire was his home, the dry bones of Canis with Banshy was home!

He would not be defeated by her - not this time! Sickness in his stomach, disapproval, that was all BULLSHIT and USELESS and he was stronger then that! He was AZRAEL and nobody was going to control him!

He heard the voice of the stag and he immediately turned, forcing himself to move. Wrong way. Go the other way. "SHUT UP!! NOT LISTENING TO YOU, MOTHER!" A clawed hand gripped at the stone in his chest, as if anchoring himself to his own heart as he struggled to move towards Astraea. "MASTER ASTRAEA," he roared. "TAKE HER! GET HER OUT OF ME!!"

It gripped the rock, gritting its teeth, trying to block out the call of Mother, of the order that it had been warned against...and then, slowly, it was leaving. It relaxed, blinking with surprise and looking around. What? What had happened?

Wait, Master Vargas! Beta immediately turned around but...no, he was okay. Master Astraea was here, and Alpha was being cleansed as well. Which meant that it had a job to to - it needed to stop the infected from leaving. Or, at least, try. It caught Vargas's nod of approval and paused, blinking, nodding back, feeling, just for a moment, proud of itself. Master Vargas was proud of it.

And then it was back into action, leaping forward towards the tunnel some of the others were moving towards. "Stop!" it growled, pausing a safe distance away and pressing its claws to the ground. Glass shards began to spike up from the ground between the battle and the end of the tunnel - they weren't too high, but hopefully they'd be enough of a hindrance. "You're not leaving."

The thing was, Nemesis did feel the warmth, and the comfort, and something about Mother felt like fire. It felt like home, and like family she had once known.

It also made her sick to her stomach.

It did both of these things at the same time, the sensation of being infected one that she had grown up with, and instinctively, fought to burn out of her entire body... and the sensation of a community, together at last; it made her vision blur with tears.

"No," she whispered, in a daze but standing her ground among the chaos, barely aware of those around her. It reminded her of Magdalena, Hestia and Louie all at once, and her head felt thick with cotton. Was this what he had done to that dragon, so long ago? She could feel them all-- and one by one, they were being snatched away.

She hated it.

She hated all of them.

It made her feel sick, and there was only one thing to do when illness tried to take hold of her body. The mutated rhino's skin began to sizzle and pop, the pain something that Nemesis took with ease but would spread throughout her new family. The smell of burning flesh and charred hair sizzling off of her as her skin turned black in patches, flames licking off slowly.

That made everything worse. The voices inside her head urged her to stop, and she felt more and more sick. She kept the fire going, eyes glazed over. She could burn it all away... She was Fire, and no illness would smother her.

Astraea gauged each approaching them, worried for those closer to Ursa that he could not assist immediately, but thankful when they were strong enough to turn back. He recoiled from the dragonfire but was grateful it was not a direct threat to them. He gave a nod to Cryogen and Ruby-Beta with a quick, "Good thinking!" Others had rallied to defend them, or to block the exit, and he wished he had time to thank all of them.

But he could not afford his attention away so easily, and again returned to the task at hand.

Khavur was first.

(Roll: 2 - Failure)

No-go. He'd try again.

"FREE ME." Astraea frowned, and pressed in closer—one might call it a shove, except that Khavur was giant and dragon-like. Heh.

(Roll: 11 - Successful)

The spores were released, scattering into the substrate below before dissipating.

"You are free," he said, audibly and physically exhausted; despite it seeming so easy, it was rough on him to do so much in so little time. Especially with the mounting stress weighing down on both himself and James. He shot a glance to his partner to make sure the winged horse was still holding up fine.

@Khavur

Next was Azrael, roaring in their direction, gripping the stone at his chest. Astraea felt his ears pin, a twist of sorrow and pity curling in his chest. He shifted forward, skirting the others that were near or gathering.

He reached out with his nose, trying to make the contact as quick as possible, to free Azrael as soon as he could.

(Roll: 1 - Failure)

Nothing. Again. He stomped a hoof. Was this a new strain? Was it more resistant to his own fungal magic, somehow evolved or different?

A feeling of cold dread began to chill his veins. He hoped this was not something new, something stronger. They'd defeat this just as they had the others. Was there a node in Ursa, perhaps? Offering its strength to the others, offering the unity of a whole?

He stepped in closer, pressing harder against Azrael.

(Roll: 10 - Successful)

Again, as with the others, the second attempt sent the infection fleeing; he stomped at stray pieces before glancing up to Azrael, then back to James and the others. It was worrisome, to say the least.

@Azrael