//------------------------------//
// Chapter 35 
// Story: Hegira: Option Gamma 
// by Guardian_Gryphon 
//------------------------------//

Morning was heralded by a surprising glimpse of the sun, and blue sky, on the southern horizon.
The clouds still covered the tundra, for the most part, but the storm had passed, and a small break in the distance allowed a few early rays of light to paint the lower surfaces of the suspended moisture clusters in shades of pearlescent white.

Fyrenn had not slept as well as he'd hoped.

In the temporary absence of other issues, the unidentifiable nagging worry of the previous afternoon had returned.  As the night progressed, and the storm spent its fury on the land below, whipping snow into dunes and drifts, the feeling had gradually intensified to a dull internal roar.

As he waited for the rest of the group to  gear up, Fyrenn fell to watching the Lupines.

They seemed capable of communicating precisely and instantly with each other, completely without the use of speech.  It took him several moments of gazing at them to realize that they were using a complex well-honed combination of body language, and low or high throaty sounds that were just beyond the hearing range of most other creatures.

After another few moments of observing their co-ordination with rapt attention, a more important realization struck him.  As if feeling his eyes on the back of her neck, one of the female Diamond Dogs cast a brief appraising glance over her shoulder.  

And then Fyrenn realized; He had hit upon the source of his elusive nagging concern.
Now that he understood the instinct, he was more sure of it than ever.

He slowly walked a few hundred yards to the south, sweeping the horizon with his powerful eyes, desperately and meticulously searching for some indication to validate his concerns.

Varan and Carradan had to say his name several times to get his attention, given that he was so fixated on his task.

Fyrenn shook himself, and turned around to find his two companions looking at him with visible worry, "Sorry.  I was... 
Having a good look at the way we came."

Carradan shrugged, and eyed him suspiciously, "Whatever you say.  'S time to leave, Kephic and Shroud want to have a 'planning' session."

Fyrenn rolled his eyes, "Oh this will be ever so much fun.  I'll be right there."
He turned back to the southern vista, and noted the crunch of Carradan's hoofsteps in the snow was unaccompanied.

Varan waited a good thirty seconds before speaking, "You sense it too."

Fyrenn nodded, "At first I thought it was battle instinct, or some subtle indication that we were finally getting close to our quarry...  But now I'm sure."  

He turned and locked eyes with the golden Gryphon, concern etched on his beak, "We're being *followed*."

Vocalizing the revelation was immensely disturbing.  Presumably very few creatures could covertly observe a Gryphon undetected for so long, and anything both capable of such a feat, and intent on performing it, was doubtless malicious *and* deadly.

Varan gave the southern reaches of the tundra a quick sweep with his own eyes, "I've informed Kephic and Neyla, who seem to have been under a similar impression.  Neyla has suggested we not inform our new 'friends.'  If they pick up on it as well, then we can be doubly sure.  If they do not, then it remains our issue to deal with alone."

"Are we going to tell IJ and Stan?"

Varan nodded, "But not in hearing range of the pack.  Wait until we are in the air."

Fyrenn jerked his head towards the combined groups in the distance, "How far *can* they hear a sound at anyways?"

Varan raised an eyebrow, "If not for the wind? The would be able to hear every word we've said at more than twice this distance.  If we had whispered them directly in each other's ears."



 

"We've been tracking them by scent..." Shroud trailed off as he circled a patch of snow on all fours, his nose pressed to the ground.

He stood and grunted, "The storm has weakened the trail.  We will need to move now, and stop sparingly, if we intend to catch them."

Kephic pointed a single talon skyward, "We'll fly a search line, with one hanging back to use your pack as a direction finder.  If we move forward in tandem like a dragnet we're more likely to hit on something.  We have the sight to spot the prey at distance, but you have the better method for acquiring the general trail."

Fyrenn braced himself, sure that Shroud was going to react very poorly to Kephic's assertive plan.  Amazingly, however, the hulking Lupine merely nodded, and turned to see to his pack.

Fyrenn chalked it up to a combination of Shroud's perception of Kephic as an equal, and his ability to accept a logical course...  When it had been seasoned lightly with a compliment.

Amongst themselves, the Gryphons established a rotation for who would provide the aerial 'anchor' to the pack.  The other three would spread out in a fan ahead, with the Gryphon at each end taking a Pony with them to act as a messenger.

Visually, the group was covering less ground than before, but in exchange they had the Pack to point the way and narrow the cone of uncertainty significantly.

During his stint as the 'anchor' Fyrenn spent a great many moments looking over his shoulder, sweeping the horizon.  He was sure he could feel hidden eyes, their malicious gaze fixed on him with skill, and intent.

As the sun peaked behind the clouds, he decided that the Ruby Claws weren't the only thing they were going to be meeting in battle, before the week was out.

That was disconcerting indeed.  What sort of skill and power might a creature have, if it was capable of eluding a Gryphon's gaze?



 

The JRSF was now a partially operational military unit.  As such, several sections of Fort Hamilton had been reassigned to act as storage, barracks, armory, and operational command center for the new organization.

For the first time, the military facility was playing host to nonhumans as semi-permanent residents.  Fellow warriors of two other species eating, sleeping, training, relaxing, and in general living alongside the long-time homo sapiens soldiers.

The atmosphere was charged with excitement for many reasons.  The cohabitation of three species as a military unit wasn't just breaking ground culturally, it was also a tantalizing promise of future successes against the PER and HLF.  

There, on display for the world to see and hopefully emulate, was an example of something neither terrorist faction had, or could ever hope to have;  Actual harmony.

Certainly there had been, and still would be, the occasional rough spot.  It was functionally impossible to put high strung, well trained soldiers who hadn't worked together before into a confined space, and expect there to be no fights, or arguments.

Still, nothing untoward had transpired that didn't also happen regularly enough on purely Human military bases and ships every so often.  Hutch leaned back in his chair and smiled contentedly. 

Lantry had been right;  His position was *very much* going to be worth it.

Hutch then remembered why the board was meeting that morning, and his expression soured.
He rotated his chair to stare pensively out the window until the other members had all arrived.

The table they sat around was a dark gray granite, mounted on a central steel column.
It was a perfect circle, with no head or foot.  Equal positions all around.
The connection to the Round Table of old was not lost on the human board members, and the few members of the other species who had studied Human legend more extensively.

The room, like the table, was a circle with one half being a window, the other half a padded beige wall with two screens flanking the door.  Light came from a hidden strip that ran the perimeter of the room at floor level, and an identical strip around the circumference of the ceiling.

Sildinar, Seyal, and a third individual Hutch hadn't met served as the Gryphon liaisons, two of Celestia's Royal Guard commanders, and one of Luna's Night Guards served as the Pony liaisons, and Hutch himself was flanked by an up-and-coming two star general on his left, and the final, unfortunate member of the board on his right.

The final board member had been appointed at the firm insistence of the Populists on the Earthgov council, and he was a civilian.  Worse.  He was a politician.

Worst of all, and veritably damning, he was a 'legal terminology' and procedures expert.  Government speak for the single worst scum plaguing the system.  A Lawyer.

Even Celestia's Royal Guards, who were purportedly going to function as the counterbalance to the Gryphons, showed an immediate, but well suppressed, distaste for the man.

Lennik Einrig.  The name even sounded slippery.

The meeting was, like all convenings of the Board, informal.  Hutch decided to launch directly into the issue without any ado.  He suspected Sildinar, and the other Gryphons, would appreciate that.

"Folks, we have a new break in our hunt for the PER, and as a result we also have a thorny problem."

Hutch thumbed a control, and data was automatically projected to both the wall screens, and the window behind him.  "Our infiltration AI, lovingly named 'Chuck,' has uncovered some startling trends and patterns inside the Gavin/Schummel mainframe.  To be perfectly blunt, there is strong evidence that the PER's connection to the company is far more than superficial manipulation.  If it isn't full blown infiltration, its almost certainly collaboration."

The revelation was not particularly disturbing to the Ponies or Gryphons, who cared little for basic Human political issues.  The Two Star to Hutch's left, Kara Sorven, looked a bit phased.  Einrig didn't seem convinced.

Hutch leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table, "The information is solid.  Independently verified by analysts from all three races just to be sure.  Now it's *not* quite enough for a writ of search and seizure, but that's why we're here..."

Hutch took a deep breath and leaned back, "From a tactical standpoint, this info is attainable.  From a geopolitical standpoint, it's a nightmare."

Einrig interrupted with something between a scoff and a snort, "Its a legal *minefield*" 

Hutch glared, "Now supposedly that's why we're here isn't it?  To be above the bureaucracy.  We're not talking about marching in there on a rumor you know." He jerked his thumb at the data being projected onto the window, "This is real, hard evidence.  So today, we're here to put it to a vote.  According to the operational guidelines we've set for ourselves, a simple majority is all we need to go ahead with a seizure operation.  I move for an immediate vote."

Sildinar raised a claw before Einrig could interrupt again to object, "I second."

Each Board member turned to their individual section of the table, activating a holoscreen customized for their species.  The vote only took a few moments.  Hutch was sure the Gryphons would vote for the operation; Luna's Night Guard, and Sorven he was slightly less sure of, but still confident.  Einrig would obviously vote against, and lastly, Celestia's Royal Guards were something of an inscrutable mystery.

The computer quietly, without any preamble, reported the results.
Two against, Seven for.

Hutch was willing to bet one of Celestia's Guards had voted against, given the various expressions of approval coming from Sorven, and the Nightguard.

Einrig looked as though he had been force fed a raw halibut, "I must protest this action, under article thirty seven section---"

Seyal snorted, "What's the phrase? 'Objection noted' ?  Shut up, sit down, stop whining."

If looks could kill, then the look the female Gryphon gave Lennik could have melted steel and titanium.

Hutch could barely suppress a smirk.

Sorven nodded, "Alright then.  How do we play this?  And before anyone suggests 'carefully,' do be aware that I haven't had my morning coffee, and I'd rather not mince pleasantries with a company that's funding terrorists."

Hutch decided he liked Sorven.
God forbid she and Aston ever meet. 

He'd never survive the two of them together.



 

Fyrenn thought his gut was going to leap out of his beak and grab his sword for him.
Not only had Shroud informed them that he suspected they were less than a day's flight behind their prey, but he and two other members of the pack had also expressed the same tell-tale concern that they were all being followed.

The sun was setting, the clouds were preparing to dump more snow, albeit with less accompanying wind, the temperature had dropped another two degrees, and it was getting harder still to find food.  The noses of the pack were, at that point, the only reason there was enough meat to go around.

Gryphons were more efficient and deadly hunters in warmer climes, and even arctic forests, but out here where the prey was almost always underground, the nose of the Diamond Dog was king of the food chain.

The Lupines, at first glance, didn't seem the digging sort.  Varan had mentioned off-claw that they were less efficient and powerful at digging than the trolls,  but their skills were still unmatched by any other species. 

Fyrenn didn't think it possible at first, but the Lupines could find, collapse, and kill everything inside a rabbit burrow *before* the creature knew the predator was even there.

Fyrenn almost felt sorry for his meals.  Almost.  

The sheer level of inconvenience the small white beings had presented earlier, combined with the life-giving necessity of slaking his hunger, was enough to offset any lingering regret.

As he devoured his newly cleaned and filleted meal, he couldn't resist plumbing Shroud's knowledge of Diamond Dogs.  His questions were mainly motivated by curiosity, but there was also a small desire to see how far he could push the enormous gray Lupine before he became irritable.

Fyrenn learned that there were four main species of Diamond Dog; Lupine, Vulpine, Hyanian, and Troll.  The first, and last, he had met and had some experience with, from the description of the other two Fyrenn inferred that the former were  much like Foxes, and the latter Hyenas.

Shroud's description of a Hyanian was not flattering;  They were apparently well known for being a barely-sentient subspecies devoid of all compassion, restraint, and all but the most basic intelligence.  A species truly ruled by instinct.

A uniting factor of all diamond Dogs seemed to be their pack instinct and mentality.

If Ponies were generally culturally friend-centric, and Gryphons nuclear-familial, then Diamond Dogs were masters of the pack; Or as Shroud would have put it, the pack was master of the Diamond Dogs.

Among Vulpines, the instinct ran closer to what a Gryphon might consider a workable construct.  Nearly all Vulpine packs were small, and based around families.  It was fairly conceivable to see lone Vulpines as well.

Trolls avidly respected the hierarchy of the pack the way Lupines did, but their barriers to entry and exit from the pack were much more permeable.  Hyanians were purely animalistic.

Fyrenn interrupted a particularly long-winded story about a Hyanian invasion of Lupine clan territory to satisfy a sudden curiosity.  He knew the question was provocative, but he wanted an answer, "Why *do* you get so...  Tense, when other races won't respect your pack structure?  We're not *you* after all."

Shroud looked a bit put off, but he did open his muzzle to answer, much to Fyrenn's surprise, "You Gryphons.  Your greatest assets, and greatest weaknesses, are your emotions.  
They can rule you if you let them, yes?"

Fyrenn nodded.  Shroud gazed out across the tundra pensively, "Imagine if your emotions were ten thousand times more insistent, powerful, and strong.  Imagine if they were always there, every second of every day.  That is what our instincts are like for us.  For you, instinct is a sixth sense; It is powerful, but it is controllable.  For us, instinct is a force as sure and powerful as the winds and tides."

Shroud locked eyes with Fyrenn, "The pack structure exists to bring order to this chaos.  To keep us from devolving into animals.  To make us an honorable society.  It is our single most important creed;  It is our life and breath.  Were it not for the strength with which it takes hold, we would be beasts, and nothing more."

Fyrenn shrugged, "I see why it matters so much to you, and rightly so.  But that doesn't really justify your need for us to conform to fit into it.  It explains it, sure, but it doesn't really *justify* it."

Shroud raised an eyebrow, "The pack is nature's way of bringing order to all things.  You included."

Fyrenn snorted, "Heh.  I don't need anything beyond my own nature, instincts, morals, faith, and brain to tell me how to fit into the way of things.  Structures are something I choose to be a part of very selectively.  Even before I became a Gryphon, I needed an emotional tie and a good reason before I could submit to authority.  With Special Forces, it was the desire to serve that fulfilled both.  With my kind, it's been my family ties, and the culture and ethics."

Fyrenn turned to stare at the horizon himself, "I don't have an emotional or logical tie to your pack.  So I can't think of you as anything beyond equals, at best, including you."

Shroud growled, "Is that the Gryphon, the Human, or the person's soul underneath talking?"

"False Trichotomy. You incorrectly presume that there's a difference."

Fyrenn's blunt proclamation put an end to any further back-and-forth for several minutes.

He was about to open his beak to ask about the night's wind-breaks, when something caught his attention.  Later, he couldn't recall if it was a scent, a sound, or something more paranormal.  But whatever it was, it set his instincts on edge so harshly they might as well have been clashing, scraping swords.

Fyrenn had *just* enough time to note that all six Lupines, and the other members of his own group, had been seized by a similar premonition, before he came face to face with the source of his concern.

The creature was skeletal, in the most literal sense of the word.  It was an actual bleached flesh-less Pony skeleton.  But it was all wrong.  Where the tail should have been, vertebrae from another skeleton had been grafted on to create a different kind of tail.

Fyrenn followed the arc of the limb with his eyes, noting that it came up and over the body, like a scorpion, to end in a deadly sharp, multi-tined, vicious looking bony barb.  He also noted, with no small amount of consternation, that several shards of bone were nested under the barb, as if to be launched at an enemy.

The monster, whatever it was, should not have been able to move.  The bones were connected, but there was no flesh, no cartilage, not even so much as a stray muscle fiber.  Yet it had approached with absolute silence, and at such speed, that no one had noticed it until it was in-front of them.

Fyrenn could see that, whatever gave the being impetus, it was most likely magical.  How else to explain the daunting red glow that filled the eye sockets, and the deep blue tinge covering the skeleton like St. Elmo's Fire, culminating in an almost transparent set of spectral, wispy wings that seemed to be made of a mixture of fog and starlight.

Fyrenn felt an intelligence behind the twin red pools that inhabited the long dead Pony skull's eye sockets.  A fearful, malevolent, frighteningly powerful intelligence.

He noted, with mounting concern, that there were eleven more of the creatures now standing in a circle around the Gryphons, Lupines, and Ponies.  The numbers lined up one to one, but Fyrenn doubted the battle would be short, or simple.

He was correct.

The very instant he went for his sword, the being facing off against him flicked its scorpion tail.  Fyrenn had to twist with all his might to avoid the shard of bone, which whistled past his side a mere feather's breadth away with a speed he estimated to be roughly equal to a bullet flung from a firearm.

To his astonishment, by the time he was airborne and had his sword in his claws, the creature was practically in his face, borne aloft on its seemingly whimsical wings.  The scorpion tail flicked towards him again, this time aiming to plunge the barb directly into his skull.

At the same time, the creature lashed out with its front hooves, which had been sharpened, as if against a rock, to give them protruding bone blades.

Fyrenn had to pivot, and bring up his sword to block the frenzied dual attack.  The barb clanged off his blade with surprising force, and the sharpened hoof blades scraped against his leg graves with a sickening squeal as they passed.

Despite the intense concentration he was using, pushing his perception of time to its limits and beyond, the creature was matching him move for move.  It made for an odd deadly dance;  He and the spectral skeleton both had an eternity to consider and execute each move, but because their perceptions, and seemingly speeds, were equally matched, it was like a game of blitz chess.  One wrong move would result in failure.

Failure would result in death.  No time for recovery.

Fyrenn had no doubt the creature was capable of finding the open spots in the joints of his armor, and making good use of them.

He caught a glimpse of Kephic and Varan at the center of their own one-on-one tussles, whereas the Lupine pack seemed to be busy fighting the remainder of the creatures in an all out brawl of fur, claws, bones, and barbs.

As he contorted through a particularly tight pivot, Fyrenn saw that IJ was sprawled out on the snow, hooves clenched over her head, tears streaming out of her eyes as though she were in pain.  Carradan was gallantly, but awkwardly, standing guard over her.  The monsters did not seem especially concerned with the Ponies, doubtless having decided that they could deal with them once everyone else was dead.

Fyrenn returned his full concentration to his opponent.  If he could defeat the being, then he could join Kephic, and help him overpower his enemy, and from there they would make short work of Varan's, and the tide would turn.

No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to gain an advantage.  The creature wasn't just a match for him in terms of speed. 
It was as though it could reasonably anticipate his moves.  Not enough to gain an immediate advantage over his better armor, weapon, and vision, but more than enough to match him blow for blow.  And wear him down.

Fyrenn decided to try a different tactic.  He pumped his wings hard, and gained some altitude on the enemy, then went for his bow with all the speed he could muster.  The creature was nearly on him by the time he nocked his arrow, but he managed to let the projectile loose right at the creature's skull.

Their dissimilar weaving movements, and evasive maneuvers meant nothing to Fyrenn's aim, and his arrow flew true, piercing the creature directly through the skull and embedding itself up to the fins.

The impact had no effect whatsoever.

The creature seemed to possess no vital organs, no sense of pain, and no fear of death.

Fyrenn flicked the hidden blades on his bow into action, hoping to catch the creature by surprise.
For a tenth of a second, the being slowed, but it didn't falter.  To Fyrenn's mind, that meant it had known he was planning a surprise, but it didn't know *what.*  

That was a piece of information he could use.

He spun the sword in his right claw, and the bow in his left.  He re-engaged, and fought the creature for several more moments, their limbs and weapons dancing around each other at speeds so fast, the human eye couldn't have even begun to process the events.

The sharpened surfaces never touched.  They were both reacting too quickly for that.
Move, and countermove, defense and offence, this creature was as much built for war as a Gryphon, and clearly well acquainted with combat.

Finally, Fyrenn gained the opportunity he was looking for.  He parried a hoof with the bow-blades, feinted right with his sword, brought his wings down, and simultaneously lifted his back legs, flicking their hidden blades into action.

He rolled, and was rewarded with a satisfying 'clack' as his leg-blades severed the creature's barb, and one vertebra of its tail.

His victory was short lived.

The barb had only been grazed, and as he watched in disbelief it course corrected, re-attaching itself to the tail as if guided by a magnet.  He also noted, with some relief, that the vertebra he had struck had been fully dislodged, and showed no signs of reattaching as it spiraled down through the snow.

That told him that while the creature's bones were being held together magically, it *was* possible to push the skeleton far enough apart that the field could not reassemble it.

Fyrenn continued to dodge the creature's vitriolic assaults.  He was not yet tiring, but he could sense that if the battle continued long enough, he would make a mistake.  That would be all the monster needed.  

The creature also seemed vulnerable to energy deprivation, however.
Fyrenn could see a microscopic, but measurable decrease in its response time.

As the battle wore on, Fyrenn began to feel fear creeping in at the edges of his mind.
He began to doubt if he could outlast the monster.

Strangely, he noticed that the creature seemed to gain a second wind at around the same time.

It struck him that he was fighting something forged from magic.  Given the way it could anticipate his intentions, but not his stratagems, and given the way it was reacting to his slowly mounting kernel of fear, it was possible that the beast was somehow sensing, and feeding off of, his emotions.

If Changelings could do it, couldn't other creatures?

Fyrenn fought to switch off his feelings, to operate based purely on training, instinct, and logic.
It wasn't easy.

Everything he knew and had learned told him to fight with a controllable mixture of emotions on top of his other mental forces and faculties, but his theory on the creature was perhaps his one single advantage.

When he felt he had a sufficient lock on his emotions, Fyrenn lunged forward in a wild last-ditch attempt at victory.  He dropped his sword, and bow, and locked limbs with the monster.
The tail barb instantly came down, hammering at his back and wings with snake-like speed.

Fyrenn was able to use his backplate and wing-joint plates to absorb most of the assault, but several times the barb struck home on his right wing, leaving him with deep, ragged gashes that gave flow to rivulets of golden tinged red blood.

The pain, however, drove the last vestiges of emotion from Fyrenn's mind, and gave him clarity.
He grabbed the creature's skull in one claw, and it's torso in the other.  Perhaps the main disadvantage the creature possessed was its Pony proportions.  Fyrenn was much larger and had, overall, more limbs at his disposal.

Fyrenn ceased any efforts to remain aloft, forcing the creature to fall with him, as his significantly greater weight bore down on the monster.

Disregarding the cuts the creature's sharpened edges were giving his forelegs, he put all his might into rending its skull from its torso, and pushing the two bone structures as far apart as possible.  Even when the head came undone, there was an almost elastic invisible force trying to pull it back.

Fyrenn redoubled his efforts, taking several hits from the tail so forceful, that they partially pierced his back plate, gashing the skin underneath.  Finally, the head snapped off, like a magnet finally free of the field of its twin.  The red glow of the eyes dissociated from the sockets of the skull as it spun away, hovering above the body where the head should have been.

The loss of the head unbalanced the creature, but didn't seem to pain it.
The distraction of fighting Fyrenn, however, had completely drawn its attention away from the ground.

The interlocked combatants hit the snow with so much force and speed, it may as well have been solid rock.  Fyrenn's fall was broken by the creature, the mild shock absorbing properties of his armor, and then at last his own carefully timed impact roll, leaving him with relatively light bruising.

As for the creature, as he had hoped, the impact shattered its skeleton outright, scattering the pieces in the snow far and wide as if some demented child had dropped a lego set on a tiled kitchen floor.

The bones were again lifeless, but the blue haze that had bound them remained.
Free of its host, the translucent form resembled nothing so much as a Pegasus.
A demented, terrifying, yet strangely beautiful Pegasus, forged from the pure night sky.

The constellations, for there did seem to be formations of stars within the unfocused perimeter of the being, vaguely reminded Fyrenn of Skye's cutie mark.

He gazed into the red eyes of the wisp, and growled, through his labored breaths, "Who *are you* ?"

To his amazement, pain exploded in his head and chest.  Not physical pain, but emotional pain.
The intensity was so incredible, that images of everything from the day he lost his eyes, to every time he had been shot, or taken shrapnel, to Skye's death flashed before him;  His memory rendering them as if he were reliving them.

The images seemed to focus on the creature's eyes, which held Fyrenn's gaze with rapt attention.  All at once, the onslaught ceased.

A voice, singular, alone, yet seemingly made up of several different voices speaking in dissonance, rang out, "We are the blacknessssss...."

With that, the creature spiraled skywards, vanishing into the clouds with an ear splitting shriek, apparently deprived of its ability to influence the corporeal world without a host, but lent speed as if it had been unshackled.

Fyrenn took a moment to collect himself.  Several places in his armor had been scraped, dented, and even pierced, which to his reckoning meant the being's attacks had Thaumatic strength behind them.  

He was bleeding.  Not seriously enough to prevent him from fighting or flying, but if it hadn't been for his wing-joint plates, the creature would have doubtless broken his wings several times over.

The final attack was the most concerning of all, and it certainly seemed to prove his theory that the creature could feed off of, sense, and perhaps reflect emotion.  If it was capable of directly affecting emotion, it would have simply done so and defeated him.

Tellingly, it only attacked him emotionally *after* he had thought of Skye.
It was only a hypothesis, but Fyrenn had to start somewhere.

He glanced up to see that his fight had carried him several hundred yards away from the main battle.  Varan, even as he watched, managed to rend his own opponent in two.  That didn't surprise Fyrenn, Varan was the most emotionally reserved of the group.

His brother locked eyes with him.  Through a quick series of claw signals, he indicated he would help Kephic, and Fyrenn should assist Neyla.

As he approached the tan and blue Gryphoness, Fyrenn could see that she was faring the worst of them all, though not for lack of skill.  Fyrenn spared a glance for the pack as he closed with Neyla and her opponent.  They seemed to be holding their own, their instincts doubtless suppressed any emotion aside from bloodlust, making them far less vulnerable to the creatures' sensing or reflecting abilities.

As for IJ, she was still writhing, as if in pain.  Fyrenn wondered with a small part of his brain, as he struck Neyla's foe in the side at full speed, if IJ's emotion sensing talent was making her especially vulnerable.

As the creature in Fyrenn's claws crumpled under his surprise assault, he added another weakness to their checklist.  They did not have a good sense of their surroundings when fully engaged with a single equally fast opponent.

As he crushed the creature's dissociated skull in his right claw, and turned to tend to Neyla, he grinned with the madness of a warrior who has just dodged a bullet meant for his brain.  

Gryphons were masters of surprise attacks.