ã€ŠLegend Land: Tale of the Nameless Godã€‹


 Prologue

    Leaves and flower blossoms swirled down in a dizzying hale, increasing in number with each ferocious gust of wind. The whipping tree branches gave intermittent flashes of cold light from the moon and stars, illuminating their journey in patches. Here past the stream, there over the thicket; Shibi cast a worried glance at her mistress, bending lower over her horse. The night was unnaturally cold for spring. Darkness whispered threats. She could only protect Sakuya from so much.

    ¡°We¡¯re almost there Shibi,¡± Sakuya gasped, panting nearly as much as her horse. Shibi reached behind and grabbed one of the blankets, along with her own cloak, and handed them to Sakuya as they rode. Sakuya shook her head, teeth chattering. Shibi swore as they parted around a tree, and rejoined under a new flash of moonlight.

    ¡°Take them my lady,¡± Shibi urged, shaking the bundle of fabric again. Her mistress¡¯s soft hand reached out tentatively through the night, nearly upsetting herself in the process. Sakuya quickly righted herself, wrapping in the blanket while goosebumps spread over Shibi¡¯s skin. Her mistress had always been graceful, even when riding, but the pregnancy had given her unaccustomed weight. Hopefully, it would all be over soon.

    The horses gave a grateful snort as Shibi and her mistress pulled to a halt. Sakuya waited for her handmaiden to dismount, eying the cabin; it had been a retreat for her and Ninigi in the beginning. They hadn¡¯t used it in years, and they hadn¡¯t needed to, but now¡­now things were changing. Sakuya tried to dismount herself, but gripped the mane of her horse, scrunched her eyes shut; even the simple things were beyond her reach. This uselessness was tormenting her. She had been ready to die from the ride over; a saddle was not very accommodating to a woman in her position. But it would all be over soon.

    Shibi helped her mistress dismount, wrapping the tall woman¡¯s arm around her stocky shoulders. She led Sakuya to the cabin and settled her in the bed. The soft whimpers of her mistress tore at Shibi while she gathered the pots, cloth, and water. The cabin carried in memories of getaways and ancient promises; it also smelled of dead insects.

    ¡°Are you comfortable, my lady?¡± Sakuya¡¯s eyes flickered, finding her handmaiden in the dim candlelight.

    ¡°Has anyone in this position ever been comfortable, Shibi?¡± Sakuya gave a weak smile that turned into a grimace all too quickly. Suddenly, her breathing erratic. Shibi reached her hand out, gripping her mistress¡¯s warm palm. ¡°Thank¡­thank you. You have always been a faithful friend and companion to me all these years. Perhaps, after¡ª¡± Sakuya gasped, curling in on herself, squeezing Shibi¡¯s hand harder. The moment passed and she laid her head back, keeping her eyes closed. ¡°Perhaps after this, you will have this cabin instead of a room in the palace.¡± Shibi glanced around the musty cabin. It had probably been nice¡­once.

    ¡°No offense my lady, but I think I will be just fine in the palace.¡± Sakuya chuckled, her pulse fluttering underneath Shibi¡¯s grip.

    ¡°Please, keep watch outside. Nobody can be allowed in.¡± Sakuya¡¯s eyes flared open and her handmaiden nodded at the request, disappearing out of the room. This would be a long night.

    <hr><hr>

    ¡°My lord!¡± Ninigi turned, hand on his sword. The harsh light of the guard¡¯s lantern drew his face in stark contrast. The guard bowed and Ninigi inclined his head, resisting the urge to tug at his beard; Sakuya would always chastise him about it. She said it was an old man¡¯s habit.

    ¡°Speak,¡± His voice was sharp, clipped. He didn¡¯t mean for it to be; that¡¯s how it had always been. His dark eyes only warmed when focused on Sakuya. His men never seemed to mind; they weren¡¯t there for his kindness.

    ¡°The queen and her handmaiden aren¡¯t in the palace or the grounds. We found tracks heading into the woods, and we have men combing through it now.¡± Ninigi¡¯s callused hand squeezed into the fabric of his robe, his breath shallow.

    ¡°What direction?¡± She wouldn¡¯t head there. They hadn¡¯t used it in years. The memories they had there were sacred; she wouldn¡¯t taint them with her petty retaliation. Sakuya would never stoop that low.

    ¡°East, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± The guard wisely kept his face neutral, and his mouth shut, as Ninigi mounted his horse. He had underestimated the depths to which his wife would go to provoke him.

    The wind howled in his ears as he sped deeper into the forest, retracing the worn path by heart. They had stopped by that tree once; they weren¡¯t patient enough to wait for the cabin¡¯s bed. And by the stream, they had named all the palace¡¯s fish, their toes dipped in the cool water. This forest, this place, had always been theirs. It was destined for them from the beginning. Would she really throw all that away? He hadn¡¯t meant what he said. If he knew she would react this way¡ªno. He couldn¡¯t think that way. This wasn¡¯t his fault. It wasn¡¯t.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Ninigi yanked on the reins, securing his horse with the others tied to a tree. They had buried a gold piece each there, sowing the seeds for prosperity. The cherry blossom tree towered over Ninigi now, burdening rather than supporting, looming over his future.

    ¡°My lord you must turn back.¡± Shibi. She was always there, always by Sakuya¡¯s side. He knew how capable she was. He had hired the handmaiden himself; he would always be grateful for how she had protected his wife.

    ¡°Is Sakuya inside?¡± The wind nearly snatched away his words, tugging at his unbraided hair and beard, snapping his robe like a flag across his body. Shibi¡¯s outfit billowed out slightly, her hair in a bun, staff held at the ready.

    ¡°You must turn back,¡± She repeated, almost imploring him. But her hands were steady, her eyes were set.

    He moved without warning, embedding his curved blade in Shibi¡¯s staff. The metal gleamed in a burst of moonlight, the handmaiden¡¯s staff concealed in darkness again a moment later. Her shin hit him behind the knee, yanking her weapon back. The thick leaves and shaking branches gave their battle an almost surreal feel, partially illuminated. Blade flashing and then disappearing in the same movement, the knock of wood on metal and flesh cracking out above the peals of thunder echoing across the sky. Their breathing heavy and lips sealed, they danced a deadly dance in the solitude of the woods. Ninigi could see his opponent¡¯s moves slowing, but her determination struck almost as punishingly as her staff. He narrowly avoided a blow to the head, sweeping his leg at her ankles. Using her staff, she vaulted over him, and he spun while crouched low, swiping his sword at the wood. Even as it collapsed underneath her, Shibi tucked into a graceful roll, coming up with a twirl of her staff that parried his quick thrusts.

    Thunder cracked across the sky with no trace of lightning. Ninigi could almost have sworn he heard something. He stepped out of Shibi¡¯s reach, and then he heard it for certain this time: a scream.

    ¡°Sakuya!¡± He looked with wild eyes at the cabin. A wave of heat washed over his face as the cabin became engulfed in flames. Was this a nightmare? How could this be? Shibi¡¯s staff slammed into his chest as he sought purchase in his footing, and in his mind. Sakuya¡¯s handmaiden pressed her advantage while he was distracted, striking from impossible angles. Another loud wail burst through the cabin, slamming into Ninigi with the weight of a stampede. He spun to his side around a thrust of Shibi¡¯s staff, slicing through the ropes barely restraining the horses. They flew into Shibi, knocking her to the side into Ninigi¡¯ grasp. He followed the momentum of the movement, throwing her into one of the trees; she didn¡¯t get back up. A flash of lightning brought the clearing into focus for one brief moment. By the time the darkness had slithered back into its place, Ninigi was in the cabin.

    ¡°Sakuya?¡± He moved past the low candles, past the drapes they had picked out together. Their couch was on fire, the heat pressing in on him from all sides. Smoke billowed as the fear rose with the air in his throat. Coughing, he covered his mouth with his sleeve, stumbling through one of the doorways. Where was she? Where could she have gone? What had happened?

    ¡°Sakuya!¡±

    ¡°Ninigi,¡± The voice was weak and came from his left. He burst through the smoldering curtain covering the door, breathing heavily in the sheltered room.

    ¡°Sakuya,¡± He dropped to his knees beside the bed, tears stinging his eyes. ¡°Why? Why are you here? What are you¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is Hoderi,¡± She held the crying infant up with a smile. ¡°He has your eyes.¡± She brought another child up for him to see. ¡°And Hoori has your old man nose, even though he was born last.¡±

    He coughed up a laugh past the emotion choking his throat and smoke trickling into the room. She held up another child, pressing it into his arms. In that moment he felt a change. The anger, the resentment, gone. A thousand feelings fought for his attention: worry, fear, hope, love. He gripped the child tighter, worried that he might break it, but hoping he could dissolve the little thing into his body and keep it safe for eternity. Even now, it looked like Sakuya.

    ¡°That¡¯s Hosuseri.¡± He laughed again, holding Hosuseri in one arm, and clutching Sakuya close, their tears joining as he pressed his cheeks against her.

    ¡°Three boys,¡± He choked out. ¡°What a handful.¡±

    Sakuya laughed, letting out a low sob. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything so beautiful.¡± Ninigi wrapped his free arm around his wife, helping her to her feet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± She whispered in his ear, cradling both children in her arms.

    ¡°I was wrong,¡± He replied, passing Hosuseri to her for a moment, taking off his robe and covering the children with it as he took Hosuseri back, covering him in his undershirt. ¡°I was wrong about everything.¡± They covered their mouths, pressing through the wall of smoke, fire crackling beyond their sight while the children continued to scream without knowing better. One last time Ninigi opened his mouth, shouting over the cacophony of noise. ¡°Things will be different from now on!¡± His foot hit wood and he pushed Sakuya through the doorway.

    ¡°My lady!¡± He could make out the dim outline of Shibi rushing forward, dragging her mistress away from the cabin. A loud crack resonated through the whole cabin, Ninigi rushing forward, but not fast enough.

    The flaming beams crashed around him, laying him flat on the ground. He could feel heat on his back, flames licking at his skin, the smoke choking his cries. He clutched Hosuseri tight, shielding him from the weight, even as his chest burned, undershirt on fire. The smoke blinded him, the cabin crushing the air out of his lungs. Suddenly, it was gone, and he scrambled, his back seizing and he collapsed again. Hands gripped his arms, dragging him.

    ¡°Hosuseri,¡± he pleaded, looking up at the dim outlines of his soldiers, weakly craning his neck to see the burning cabin behind him. ¡°Somebody save my son!¡±

 Chapter 1.1: Safes are Meant to Be Cracked

    A thick bolt flies past and I duck back behind the corner, checking my body. That was too close.

    ¡°Maybe we could talk!¡± I peek out from behind the corner, looking through the slits in my mask. I¡¯m greeted by a row of archers. One of them grins, the cheeky bastard. He probably thinks this is funny. I dive back around the corner, nearly avoiding being turned into a pincushion by a hail of arrows. A chuckle of laughter echoes off the walls while I take deep breaths. Yeah, he definitely thinks it¡¯s funny.

    Leaning against the wall, I let out a long breath, wrinkling my nose as the air bounces back in my mask. Note to self: no curry before missions. My eyes flick to the right, noting the corpses and marks on the walls; it¡¯s been a long night. Is that idiot archer still laughing?

    ¡°Hey,¡± I call out, sliding closer to the corner, gripping the handles of my kusarigama harder. The curved blades gleam in the light as the weighted chains scrape on the polished wooden floors. I wonder who their floor guy was? Naiomi could use a floor guy, but she¡¯d kill me just for saying that. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    An arrow flies past, clacking against the wall in front of me. Prick. ¡°No, seriously, I want to know!¡± I let smooth wooden handles slide through my palm. Gripping the weighted end of the chain in my hand, the small curved blade rests on the floor, swinging gently like a pendulum.

    ¡°The funny thing?¡± His voice is a little high pitched for private security, even by the standards in Malor. And boy, do we have some low standards.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I sidle closer, blade scraping against the floor. Keep talking. That¡¯s right.

    ¡°We grew up hearing scary stories about Inari¡¯s agents, the Kitsune; and now that we¡¯ve met one¡­well,¡± I can hear the other guards lick their lips, a few chortles passing between them. The air tastes metallic, and every breath through my nose brings in the stink of sweat soaked leather. And a little bit of urine. But that¡¯s just Malor. Gods, I hope Naiomi has the shower fixed. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know what all the fuss was about.¡± Arrogant little son of a bitch, ain¡¯t he?

    ¡°Well you see,¡± I slide closer. ¡°The thing is,¡± My foot edges around the corner. No bows creaking, no rustling of swords and armor. Good. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±

    I dive out and sling my blade out in an arc, but the hallway proves too narrow. My weapon clangs uselessly against the metal wall.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Fortunately the loud sound echoes, causing all the guards to jump. Yep, those low hiring standards in action. With a quick movement, the weighted chain slams into the other guards. That one moment is all I need.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    I scramble to my feet, sliding forward. I collide with one of the guards, gutting him with the curved point of my blade. With so much blood on my boots, it¡¯s difficult to keep traction. Ruined boots: just another part of the job.

    I step hard on one of the fallen guard¡¯s faces, slicing one of the archers across the throat. I pivot, covering my enemies in a whirlwind of deep gashes and cuts. There. That should do it.

    Arms wrap around my torso from behind, pinning my arms. I roll my eyes behind my mask. Amateur. I kick my legs out behind me, smiling at the pained groan. Poor you. I twist, breaking the guard¡¯s grip, and land in a low crouch. Before the unlucky bastard can react, I¡¯ve scrambled atop him and slit his throat. The low creak of a bowstring being drawn behind me sounds out, forcing me to pause. That same high pitched voice from before mutters curses behind me. Gods, it makes me want to drive my own blade through my skull.

    I slowly stand, weapons held beside my head. Deep breaths now, in and out. Don¡¯t kill the twerp. Yet.

    ¡°Easy there now,¡± The thing about a mask, it doesn¡¯t allow great peripheral vision. ¡°Let¡¯s not do anything you¡¯ll regret.¡±

    I notice the shadow of the archer behind me on my left. Boy, am I glad I wore my red vest today. Well, one of them. I hate washing out blood. I move my right foot a little and the archer¡¯s breath hitches.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± His voice is shaking. How old is he? Twenty? ¡°Don¡¯t. Move.¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡± I shift my weight a little more to the right.

    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot!¡± Likely story. And I eat rat-free meat pies.

    The blade of my kusarigama slings back while I drop into a crouch. When I hear the snap of my blade cutting through the bowstring, I send the weighted chain of my other weapon flying through the air. The chain wraps around his throat, and I hear a satisfying crunch when I snap the chain, breaking his neck. I look from the young guard up to the wooden door in front of me and take a moment to rest.

    Sabotage guard barracks for a distraction? Check. Infiltrate secure compound? Check. Kill all the guards? Check-a-roony. Now to break into the locked vault just past this wooden door, and in four short hours, get paid. The things I do for money!

    The door opens silently, my breathing erratic. Man, I really gotta stay away from curry next time. From the echo of my breath I can tell the room isn¡¯t huge, but it¡¯s not a small box either. I stay crouched low to the ground, moving closer to the wall. Note to self: next time bring matches. I hear a soft click underneath me and immediately leap back, rolling through the door I came from. For a moment, all is silent. I slowly open my eyes, uncurling from the ball I had been huddled in. Gonna be honest, not the loud explosion I was expecting. Suddenly, the room floods with light, momentarily blinding me. When my vision clears, I backpedal through the door and slam it shut, breathing heavily, swearing softly. Maybe there¡¯s another way in.

    A large, spiked-metal ball crashes through the wood next to my head and I flinch away, whirling around. The ball slowly retreats, the sound of rustling chains and soft cranking causing sweat to drip down my temples. Soft, metallic, grumbles steadily mount in volume, coming from the hole in the wall. Time to leave.

    A huge metal monstrosity crashes through the door, taking out chunks of the wall with its hulking frame. Shit! I bolt down the hallway away from the beast, pumping my legs for all they¡¯re worth. For a moment, I think I might survive this. Then my foot slips.

 Chapter 1.2: Safes Are Meant To Be Cracked

    A huge metal monstrosity crashes through the door, taking out chunks of the wall with its hulking frame. Shit! I bolt down the hallway away from the beast, pumping my legs for all they¡¯re worth. For a moment, I think I might survive this. Then my foot slips.

    I skid on the pool of blood left by the young guard, cursing that damn archer all the way through the slip ¡®n slide. I roll as one of the metal spike balls shoots out, splintering the floor where I had been just a moment ago. I don¡¯t want to be part of the next mystery meat soup, thank you very much. I flip onto my feet, blinking sweat out of my eyes.

    The thing lumbers forward, hissing with steam exhaust. At least it¡¯s slow. It looks to be a security golem, and a high end model too. Unfortunately for me, some serious Fae magic went into this thing. I should seriously reevaluate my life choices.

    Equipped with launchable and retractable flails for hands, durable metal plating, and a desire to kill whatever comes near, it has its sights set on me. Fantastic.

    I jump to the right as one of its hands shoots toward me, rolling to avoid the second attack. I come out of my roll close to the golem, slicing at one of the gaps in its armor plating. The blade of my weapon snaps with an earsplitting shriek. The golem looks down at me with blank eye sockets and I flash it a smile.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would consider letting me go?¡± A large metal foot crashes into my chest as an answer, sending me flying through the hallway. Damn Baerus and his cheap ass weapon forge. Why can¡¯t he ever make a durable weapon? If I live, I¡¯m going to have serious words with that hairy little beast.

    My body slams into the metal wall on the opposite end of the hallway with a resounding crack.  I can practically feel my vertebrae trying to shoot out of my back. Alright, that one hurt. But so did the one before that. And, well¡­all of them. With a groan, I make my way to my feet, leaning on one of the walls for support.

    ¡°Is that¡ª¡± I cough and lift my mask slightly, spitting blood onto the floor. ¡°The best you have?¡± I bend my knees a few times, lowering my mask. The golem doesn¡¯t give me a break, shooting one of its giant flails in my direction. I barely dodge the metal ball, feeling one of its spikes graze my side. The golem is already launching its second flail hand when I roll, denting the wall behind me. Without pause, it¡¯s first hand locks into place. Oh come on!

    The deadly ball rockets in my direction while I race forward, sliding on my knees underneath it. I sling my kusarigama¡¯s chain around the golem¡¯s hand in less than a blink. I may not be able to hurt this thing, but it can hurt itself!Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    I yank on the careening flail with all my fading strength while I stand. For that one second, I strain, trying with all my might to pull the flail towards the golem. The cords in my neck press out against my skin, the veins in my arms nearly burst with the pressure. The flail finally submits and I dive back down as it sails through the air over me. I look up from the dusty ground in time to see the golem¡¯s head crushed in a torrent of metal-on-metal action, annihilated by its own hand. Ha! Right in its stupid. Metal. Face.

    ¡°Timber!¡± While I pick myself off the floor, the golem falls back through the hole it created, and the metal vault door gleams behind it. Take out giant security golem? Check. I take a moment to catch my breath, rubbing my bruised ribs gingerly, comforted by the sound of my breath slowing down, and the sound of rapid beeping. No, wait. Rapid beeping isn¡¯t part of my normal bodily functions. Red light blinks up at me from the security golem and I sigh.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just make this easy on me, can you?¡± The light blinks faster in response. ¡°Ah hell.¡± I race down the hallway, diving around a corner as a blast of heat and shrapnel flies past me. The wave of pressure sends me flying down the corridor, singeing the hair on my neck. I land with a very unpleasant squishing feeling amongst the cooling corpses. Slowly, I pick myself up, ears ringing, slipping on clammy flesh and oozing entrails. ¡°No, don¡¯t get up, I got this.¡± I push myself up, shuffling back down the hall with a limp. I¡¯m going to be sore in the morning. My foot catches on a piece of shrapnel and I hiss through my teeth. Yeah, definitely sore tomorrow.

    I kick my way through the metal remains of the golem, cursing every self-destruct feature ever made. My weapons have been completely vaporized in the blast, which is going to dip into my payment. I hate constantly buying new weapons. On the bright side, the blast ripped the vault door straight off.

    My limping, aching body protests as I stumble through the smoking wreckage of the vault, clutching the steaming metal doorway. The vault holds only one thing. Fortunately for my bank account, it looks to be intact. I gingerly pick up a roll of paper, unfurling it and giving it a glance. It looks to be a map with one destination circled. That looks very important. For a moment, I consider my options. Do I take the map for myself? Or return it to my employer? Option three it is! I quickly rip the map in half and stuff the circled section into my pocket. My employer wanted a map, he¡¯ll get one. Or, well, half. It¡¯s better than nothing, right?

    I stumble out of the vault, running a hand through my hair. I really hope Naiomi got that shower fixed. Rounding the corner, I retrace my steps out of the complex. Get highly prized item of untold importance for wealthy employer? Check. Scam said employer for more money and possibly gain untold riches with the important half of the map? Double check. Some safes are meant to be cracked, some rules are meant to be broken, and really, some people are just meant to be conned. That¡¯s life in Malor. Crime, piss, and mystery meat pies. That¡¯s home.

 Chapter 2.1: Getting Paid, Dodging Rent, and Drinking

    The courtyard is quiet. A little too quiet. Unlike the rest of Malor, with its ever-present sewer aroma, here you can literally stop and smell the roses. The high, immaculately trimmed hedges tower above me, their spotted flowers peering down at me. Crickets chirp, the wind whistles, guard dogs bark incessantly. Oh, to be rich.

    I pick my way through the maze of hedge animals, careful not to trip over the chains of guard dogs, which are practically frothing at the mouth. Down boys, I¡¯m not that delicious, trust me. I leave dirty boot prints with each stair I mount. My eyes flick around in the low light, absorbing the details of the mansion. Spotless marble columns support the gilded overhang. The intricately carved golden door reflects the lantern light, shining in the darkness.

    I take a deep breath, stuffing the second half of the map deeper in my pocket. What Midas doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him. Probably.

    I slam the metal knocker against the door several times and step back. Gods, I want, I need, to shower. You can never really wash the stink of the city off, but you sure as hell can try. I absentmindedly try to smooth out my hair, fingers twitching. What I would give to have my kusarigama right now-the feel of cheap wood in my palms, shoddily welded chains brushing the fabric of my pants; oh baby.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The door cracks open, warm light streaming from inside. Is that¡­pastries I smell? My mouth salivates and I take a deep sniff through my nose. Oh yeah, that¡¯s definitely warm, fluffy, delicious

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± I clear my throat, eyes flicking up and down along the seam of the door.

    "You¡¯re not Midas,¡± The single blue eye peering through the door narrows and I hear a sharp hiss.

    ¡°How very astute. Now, if that will be all¡ª¡± Before the door can close, I stick my boot in, wincing when the metal slams against my foot. The same foot I stubbed on shrapnel earlier. This day, this damn day, I tell you.

    ¡°Actually, I need to speak to Midas.¡± I flash a smile, which gets no reaction. Odd, most people give in when they see me smile. Oh wait. Mask. Right. I wave the first half of the map near the man¡¯s hooked nose. ¡°It¡¯s urgent.¡±

    There¡¯s an audibly resigned sigh, and the door opens wider. He¡¯s tall, gaunt, sporting a tailored tuxedo. And, is that¡­oh you can¡¯t be serious. Just kill me now.

    ¡°Sir,¡± He turns, light flashing on his monocle. A monocle by gods! I¡¯ve seen it all. ¡°There¡¯s a dirty street rat here to see you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s mister dirty street rat to you,¡± I mutter, crossing the threshold.

    ¡°What does he look like?¡± The butler¡¯s arm comes down like a fallen tree branch, stopping me from crossing any further than the richly woven Tempraran rug in the entryway. I bet it¡¯s soft.

    ¡°He¡­¡± The butler looks at me, lips curling in disdain. ¡°Wears a Kitsune mask, sir. It¡¯s probably fake.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not!¡± I snap, pushing past his arm. It has been a long day, and I don¡¯t have time for this. A gloved hand claps down on my shoulder. I spin, grabbing his wrist and twisting. ¡°Move it or lose it,¡± I whisper. He hisses out a long breath, then jerks. I hear a sickening pop as his hand dislocates and he sweeps me to the ground. A push dagger is placed against my throat, his greased silver hair framing the veins bulging in his forehead.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Aberlocke,¡± A sharp voice snaps from out of sight. The butler looks behind, and stands quickly, tucking the dagger away and straightening his tux. Midas slips lazily into view, looking down at me with thin amber eyes. I move to stand, but he places a slippered foot on my chest and I stop, audibly swallowing.

    The butler, I can kill. Midas¡­well, you don¡¯t just murder the richest man in the city. I think. The rules here are a bit undefined.

    Midas reaches down with a gloved hand, snatching the torn map away from me. After a glance, he hands it to Aberlocke. Leaning forward, he pulls an apple out of his robe, bright teeth crunching into the fruit. This is the kind of power you don¡¯t mess with. Well, unless you really need to. I open my mouth, breath rasping against my dry tongue.

    ¡°You have the¡ª¡±

    He holds up a hand, swallowing. ¡°I hired you to bring me a map. You got me half.¡± He puts more weight on my chest, oiled beard nearly touching my mask. He looms over me, shadows crisscrossing his olive skin.

    ¡°You hired me to bring you the contents of the vault.¡± For a skinny man, you are heavy, Midas. Good gods. ¡°Which I have done.¡± Midas¡¯ eyes narrow, apple juice dripping onto my shoulders.

    ¡°There¡¯s more to the map,¡± he hisses.

    ¡°Not my problem. I did my job.¡±

    I¡¯m yanked up against the wall, the leather of his gloves creaking around the collar of my shirt before the apple even hits the ground. I groan when my head smacks the wall. Aberlocke silently picks up the apple. Butlers.

    ¡°You lying shit.¡± His lips quiver, beard trembling with rage. ¡°Where is the other half of the map?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I snap back, eyes flicking from the deep lines on his face to Aberlocke¡¯s satisfied smirk. What if I bit Midas right here? What would happen? Something tells me it wouldn¡¯t be good. But having his hands on me like this¡ªno, deep breath. Remember the money. My shoulders slowly lower, Midas¡¯ eyes roaming over my face. ¡°If I knew, I¡¯d tell you. Why would I risk my life just to lie to you?¡± My voice is soft, almost pleading.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a greedy son of a bitch,¡± he growls, grip tightening. ¡°All you want is my money. I know you have the map.¡±

    ¡°Then pay me half.¡± Midas blinks and I smile, hoping it doesn¡¯t show in my eyes. Sometimes I really do love this mask. ¡°You say you only get half the map, then give me half the money.¡± Midas slowly uncurls his fists, taking a step back, stroking his beard.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I angle my back towards the door, sidling closer to the entryway, ¡°if you only pay me half, word might spread about how the great and powerful Midas goes back on his word.¡± Midas whirls and I hold up my hands. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say anything. It just might get out...¡± The shit-eating grin on my face is definitely showing in my eyes. And voice. And everywhere. ¡°Somehow.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°Greedy son of a bitch, yes, I know.¡± I hold out one hand. I guess now is one of those times when you mess with Midas¡¯ kind of power. ¡°Now pay me in full. And if I happen to find the other half of the map, you¡¯ll be the first to know.¡± Midas looks from Aberlocke, to me, then behind his shoulder, and back to me. He really looks like he wants me dead. I¡¯m not sure if I could stop him if he tried. Please don¡¯t call my bluff.

    ¡°Aberlocke,¡± The butler straightens, reaching for his dagger. ¡°Go fill up a pouch.¡± Aberlocke¡¯s eyes widen, mouth agape like a fish-out-of-water. ¡°Now!¡± Midas and I stand in tense silence that stretches on for nearly a minute before the butler returns, handing Midas a jingling pouch. Music to my ears. I wiggle my fingers and Midas walks past me, opening the door.

    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± I smirk, reaching for the pouch.

    ¡°Find me the second half of that map, or you die.¡± His eyes burn like liquid gold. I reach for the pouch again and he tosses it down the steps. ¡°Bastard!¡± He hisses before slamming the door on me. I pick up the pouch of gold, tossing it and catching it, slipping it into one of my many pockets, smiling. I¡¯d say that was a¡­success? Yeah, let¡¯s go with that.

 Chapter 2.2: Getting Paid, Dodging Rent, And Drinking

    I pick up the pouch of gold, tossing it and catching it, slipping it into one of my many pockets, smiling. I¡¯d say that was a¡­success? Yeah, let¡¯s go with that.

    <hr><hr>

    The door to the Burnt Rice Tavern creaks open, the roar of drunken patrons and slurred insults slamming into me. I wrinkle my nose, pushing my way into the hot, sweaty, crowd; ah, the familiar eye-sore that is home. Over the din of intoxicated men and women, one voice rings out sharp and clear.

    ¡°Namonai!¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡± I push my way faster through the crowd. Come on, almost there, just a few more feet and I¡¯ll be in my room. Come on!

    ¡°Namonai!¡± I¡¯m nearly tackled by a tall woman as she cuts me off.

    ¡°Um, hey, Naiomi.¡± I scratch the back of my head while she straightens up, folding her arms. Her furry black ears twitch, a reminder of her Kitsune blood.

    ¡°I want my money, Namonai.¡± Her dark tail twitches behind her, curling in on itself. It only does that when she¡¯s mad. And you do not want to make Naiomi mad.

    ¡°So, did you, uh, get the shower fixed?¡±

    She stalks closer, poking me in the chest.

    ¡°Money. Now.¡±

    ¡°Well, you see, the thing is¡­¡± Her eyes narrow in the dim candlelight.

    ¡°Hey!¡± A woman lumbers over to us, words thick and unsteady, much like her steps. ¡°Where¡¯s my drink, barkeep?¡± In one motion Naiomi turns, cracking her across the jaw, the rowdy crowd swallowing the protester back up.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Damn bitch,¡± She mutters, popping her knuckles. ¡°Now, where were we?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have the money,¡± I hold my hands, and the bag of gold jingles in my pocket. I cringe; shit.

    ¡°Then what is that in your pocket?¡± Her hand reaches out to me.

    ¡°You really want to know what¡¯s poking out of my pocket?¡± I ask with a grin, opening my arms. ¡°Please, be my guest. It¡¯s been a long day, let¡¯s see what you find.¡± She pulls back quickly and I chuckle.

    ¡°Namonai,¡± She pinches her nose, growling low in her throat. A long sigh escapes her lips, and for a moment, her shoulders slump. No, don¡¯t give in, don¡¯t give in you hopeless bastard. Keep your money, stay strong, stay selfish! You can do it Namonai, just don¡¯t say anything. ¡°I really need that rent money.¡± She looks at me from underneath her thin eyebrows. ¡°You understand?¡± I nod my head quickly, nearly shaking my brains out. The tall Kitsune steps aside and I blur past her, slamming my door shut. The loud bar patrons grow dimmer, and I fall onto my bed. Oh thank the gods, home.

    I groan, sitting up; I will be back, my sweet. Carefully, I turn the second half of the map over in my hands. Why does Midas want this so badly? He was awfully desperate. If I can just use that to my advantage, somehow, I may finally get a leg up on this damned city.

    ¡°Hey Namonai,¡± Naiomi opens the door suddenly and I jump.

    ¡°Privacy!¡±

    ¡°You get privacy when you pay your rent,¡± She retorts, leaning closer. ¡°I just came in to tell you the shower was fixed.¡± Oh thank gods! A shower! Finally, some good news. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Nunya business.¡± I snap, but Naiomi is too quick, and has the map between her slender fingers before I can blink.

    ¡°It¡¯s a map,¡± She turns it over, sniffing it. She traces over the circled destination with a short fingernail. ¡°This is Daedalus¡¯ workshop here. But that shut down years ago when he died. Why is it on a map?¡± I can see the gears turning in her mind, then something clicks. That¡¯s never good. Her eyes narrow as she looks up. ¡°What have you gotten yourself into this time?¡± In a flash, I cross the room and snatch the map from her grasp.

    ¡°It¡¯s just something I found,¡± I turn her around, ushering her out the door. ¡°Thanks for the shower, Naiomi!¡± I push her out of my room and slam it closed before she can respond, sliding the lock in place. My body slumps against the door, drooping to the dusty ground, holding the delicate parchment. Daedalus¡¯ workshop huh? I wonder what could be there? Well, there¡¯s only one way to find out.

 Chapter 3.1: A Prodigy And A Warrior

    Dry grass and gravel crunch underneath my feet with each step I take. The familiar scent of lemons wafts from my skin, mixing with the salt in the air. I showered just to get stink and dirt all over me again. Of course.

    I pull the hood of my cloak closer to my face as the wind picks up. Nights by the ocean are always freezing. Naiomi tells me I¡¯m just ¡°temperature sensitive¡±. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

    I dig into one of my pockets and pull out a box of matches, my frigid hands trembling. This time I remembered matches! A small flame sparks into life. I wince, sucking in a quick breath; it¡¯s just a small flame, a tiny little thing. Get a grip Namonai, gods. I quickly stuff the matches back into my pocket and hang my head in the dim light, swearing softly. My weapons. I forgot to buy new weapons.

    I tilt my head back and let out a long sigh, the steam of my breath curling from under the edges of my mask. This far from the city, you can actually see the stars. Most cosmic wanderers that end up in Legend Land babble about the beauty of our double moons, but me, I like the stars. They¡¯re never the same to the untrained eye, but if you look closely enough, they¡¯ll guide you, through and through. Breathing deeply, I let out another sigh, then begin walking again, dropping the used match, and lighting another one, not giving myself time to think about it. I pull the second half of the map out of my pocket and look it over.

    ¡°Should be close now,¡± I whisper to myself, picking up the pace to get some warmth back into my toes. ¡°Why can¡¯t anything be close to the city? Is that too much to ask?¡± A soft clicking rustles through the dry grass with the wind, the tall stalks swaying. I blow out the match, putting the map away, reaching down to my belt. Right. No weapons. The clicking gets louder while I back towards the sound of the rocking ocean waves. Ah, hell.

    I duck at the sound of an earsplitting shriek. Within the same movement I¡¯ve twisted, hearing the collision of metal on stone. Daedalus¡¯ workshop is made out of stone. I found it! The clicking grows in frequency and I drop into a low crouch; right, unknown killer enemy. Focus.

    I ignite a match while the creature circles me, illuminating my adversary. A large, rusted, metal body gleams for a moment, an orgy of legs splitting out from the round body, innumerable eyes flickering red, pincers clicking. A giant metal spider? Oh, wonderful.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I rush forward while the creature is reared up, stunned by the light. I slam my shoulder into its body. I nearly bounce off, but dig my heels in the ground, toppling it over onto its back. The automaton hisses and shrieks, legs flailing in the air, the tips looking to be sharp as knives. Why can¡¯t this be easy?

    Before it can right itself, I snatch one of its legs with both hands, dragging it closer to the cliff edge, muttering the whole way.

    ¡°This day and its troubles, it just never ends. Robots, again? Are you kidding me?¡± The spider shrieks from behind me and I look over my shoulder for a brief moment. ¡°Shut up!¡± I snap, tugging harder on the leg. The rusty metal of its back scrapes up grass and loose rock, mixing with the crashing waves; they all echo in thunderous harmony. The spider starts struggling in earnest, right before I heave it over the cliff and into the vast ocean. The tips of its legs try to find purchase in the cliff side, to no avail. I dust my hands off, running them along the wall until I find the door, pushing against it. Slowly, it creaks open, causing dust to rise up into the air. The door to a guarded facility unlocked? That¡¯s never a good sign.

    When I close the door and light a match, I¡¯m tempted to turn back and forget I ever found this place. Several ferocious looking automatons have been torn apart. Severed robot saw-hands are scattered about. Gears and scrap metal with scorched edges clutter the hall. Metal crossbow bolts stick out of empty eye sockets, while I kick my way deeper into the workshop.

    A soft whoosh is the only warning I get. Instinctively, I drop to my back. Giant blades crisscross where my head had been just a moment before, then grind to a stop mid-swing. I slowly stand, touching one of the decaying blade handles. The whole contraption gives a slight shake. My hand snaps back quickly, and I weave my way through the blades; this whole place is falling apart. Why is it still on the map? It doesn¡¯t look like anyone has lived here for years.

    My steps echo through the metal halls, and starlight sprinkles the dark hall with flecks of light. I crane my head up while I walk, noticing the pinprick holes in the thick walls and roof. I don¡¯t want to know what was powerful enough to knock holes into here.

    For one second, I almost let myself relax. The next thing I know, the floor starts to disappear beneath me.

    I pump my legs, racing down the hall. I am not getting trapped in some underground beast pit, no sir! The floor jerks to a stop, knocking me off my feet. I slide along the smooth metal, slapping my hands down to stop myself from skidding any further. With a sharp squeak I lurch to a halt, my face poised over a dark gap between two spaces of the floor. It looks like it was designed to open all the way, but fortunately for me, it too is malfunctioning. I quickly backpedal as a slimy purple tentacle shoots out from the gap, wriggling around. Nope! Nopenopenope! I race past, jumping over the small gap, backing out of the reach of the tentacle. No. No tentacles.

 Chapter 3.2: A Prodigy And A Warrior

    Finally, I make it to the opposite end of the workshop. A shattered glass window the length of the wall overlooks the black sea and rocks below, the only light being the twin moons above. Papers are scattered about what once must have been an organized room. Inventions, halfway finished, lay wasting away on large tables. Random tools and equipment dot the floor and gently sway on the walls.

    Suddenly, my head is slammed against the metal wall, my world reeling. I stagger back and throw up my hands to catch the shin of my assailant. I try to wrap my hands around, but they pull back, and I''m tossed across the room before I can react. I land with a painful thud, turning it into a backwards roll. On instinct, I roll to the left, hearing the sharp clack of an arrow on the wall. Archers, again? A boot catches me in the side, kicking me across the floor. I scamper out of the way of a broad blade scraping the floor where I was seconds ago. Nope, definitely not archers. My feet shoot out, intending to trip my attacker, but they jump, landing with their full weight on me. I scramble underneath them while they try to skewer me. The blade grows closer to my face, nearly touching my mask. My hands grip at them frantically while I shake and writhe underneath them. They remain steady, breathing slowly. Oh gods, I¡¯m going to die.

    ¡°Esilea!¡± The blade halts an inch from my throat; my would-be murderer stops. The room lights up quickly, creaking wheels nearing my head. I get a good look at my attacker, and the ferocious snarl on her face. ¡°Please, get off of him.¡±

    ¡°He could have been here to kill you,¡± my attacker hisses, low and scratchy, from the back of her throat.

    ¡°Trust me,¡± I try to wiggle, but to no avail, ¡°I have no intention of killing whoever it is that just saved my life. You on the other hand¡­¡± I glare up at my assailant; she growls in return.

    ¡°Esilea,¡± the other person warns. Esilea sighs. In a blink, she¡¯s off of me, blade at the ready. I stand up and backpedal quickly, keeping my back to the door. Esilea stands to my left, towering above everything in the room, her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Chestnut eyes pierce me like arrows with every glance. Her square jaw seems to grind itself deeper into her skull, muscles flexing and rippling with even the slightest movement. The boy next to her is an ant by comparison. He¡¯s confined to the simple wheelchair that he grips with white knuckles and tense arms. Despite this, he¡¯s the only one with a smile on his face.

    ¡°So¡­what now?¡± I keep my hands out in front of me, eyes flicking back and forth between the two. The young man runs thin fingers over a bare head, tapping the tan, scarred, skin.

    ¡°Esilea wants to kill you.¡± He looks up at his companion, who gives a curt nod. ¡°But I don¡¯t really approve of that.¡±

    ¡°I like the way you think," I say.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I think,¡± he says. He sighs, running a hand over the nicks and cuts on his face, smiling again. ¡°Let¡¯s try and start over, alright? I¡¯m Icarus. This,¡± Icarus points to the tall warrior, ¡°is Esilea. And you are?¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Namonai,¡± I reply cautiously. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°We ask the questions!¡± Esilea snaps, taking a step forward. She seems to rethink it, and steps back, gripping the fabric of her worn satchel, dark leather armor nearly disappearing in the dim light. Icarus looks up at Esilea, then nods. She opens up her bag and pushes her sword in. I shake my head slightly, taking a long blink; magic bags don¡¯t even surprise me at this point, honestly. ¡°Answer our questions and you live.¡± Esilea doesn¡¯t look happy about that prospect.

    ¡°Alright.¡± I take a seat on the dusty floor, crossing my legs. Let¡¯s see if I can talk my way out of this one. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±

    <hr><hr>

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Icarus mutters, turning the map over in his hands.

    ¡°Why do you think the workshop is on the map?¡± I hover over Icarus¡¯ shoulder, under Esilea¡¯s watchful eye. Her skin looks like clay hardened by fire. She stands as solid as a mountain behind me, arms folded across her chest. Intimidating is an understatement.

    Icarus looks up at me, rubbing the top of his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. My uncle died years ago, and most of his work was destroyed in the battle. I haven¡¯t been here since¡­¡± He looks down at his legs for a moment. ¡°But we need to investigate this further.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± Esilea rumbles from behind us, pushing me out of the way. ¡°Icarus, you can¡¯t be serious,¡± she whispers. ¡°Throwing in with him? He told us his story, how he came to be here. He is a liar, a cheat, a thief!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget, ¡®a greedy bastard¡¯,¡± I chime in.

    Esilea silences me with a glower. ¡°Why do we need his help, of all people¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s because of who he is. We need a lying, cheating, thief to help us solve this mystery.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m right here guys.¡± I mutter. Icarus turns to me, wheeling his way towards the door.

    ¡°So this Midas sent you to get the map then?¡± I nod, and Icarus smiles up at Esilea as she begins pushing him. ¡°I think we may need to pay a visit to him.¡± I dart past them, blocking the door and holding up my hands.

    ¡°Whoa!¡± They stop. Icarus looks confused and Esilea¡­well, she looks murderous. It¡¯s pretty much her default expression. ¡°You can¡¯t just go after Midas. It doesn¡¯t work like that. He¡¯s the richest man in the city.¡±

    ¡°And Esilea is the deadliest warrior I¡¯ve ever met.¡± Icarus retorts, Esilea trying to push him past me. I block again with my body.

    ¡°You¡¯re not listening!¡± I snap. I take a deep breath, stuffing my hands down my pockets, gripping the fabric tightly. Come on Namonai, breathe. They don¡¯t know any better. If they go to Midas, they¡¯ll be skinned alive. And, if they somehow make it out, the city will eat them alive. I look at both of them from behind the safety of my mask. ¡°You don¡¯t know how Malor works. You don¡¯t know the city. I do. If you want answers, we can get them, but you need to listen to me. And what we all need right now is food, and sleep.¡±

    ¡°Actually, respectfully Namonai, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right Icarus,¡± Esilea interrupts. I look up in surprise. She wrinkles her bent nose at me before continuing. ¡°We need to rest.¡± She looks at him, her eyes softening. ¡°We can search in the morning.¡± I step to the side and she pushes her charge past me. ¡°And if this doesn¡¯t pan out, I¡¯ll gut this little man very slowly.¡± She gives me a predatory grin in the darkness, wheeling Icarus down the hallway. I sigh, putting my head in my hands. Why? Why me? I slap my thighs, following them down the hallway. I guess I need to make sure my only lead doesn¡¯t die. But now I¡¯m going to have to explain two new guests to Naiomi. Oh gods.

 Chapter 4.1: The Routine

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I sigh, stuffing my hands into my pockets and hunching my shoulders. The boy asks a lot of questions. ¡°What¡¯s close by?¡± I grind my teeth, breathing heavily through my nose. ¡°What is this part called? Does Midas live close by? Will we be safe here?¡± Okay, that¡¯s it. I round on Icarus, slamming my palms on the armrests of his wheelchair.

    ¡°We¡¯re in Malor. There¡¯s a lot close by. This section of the city is called the ¡®Jungle¡¯, and Midas wouldn¡¯t be caught dead here. Nowhere is safe in Malor, but you won¡¯t be gutted in your sleep. If,¡± I snap, narrowing my eyes in the darkness at Icarus¡¯ shocked expression. This is why I don¡¯t hang with teenagers. ¡°You learn to shut up. Gods!¡± I stand up, shaking my head. ¡°Do you ever stop asking questions?¡±

    ¡°You get used to it.¡± Esilea notes, pushing Icarus past, a small¡­wait, what is that? Is she smiling?

    "That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡± I mutter, taking the lead once more. I quickly take a quick glance over my shoulder. They¡¯re such an odd looking pair. How did they end up together? What¡¯s their story? Look at yourself. You¡¯re just as bad as Icarus; get a grip here. You need to keep an eye out Namonai. Without you, they¡¯ll be penniless in a gutter by morning. On second thought¡­

    ¡°This is our destination, yes?¡± Esilea pushes Icarus up beside me, standing outside the door of the Burnt Rice Tavern. Icarus looks over the exterior cautiously, audibly swallowing.

    ¡°And we, that is, I mean¡­we¡¯re staying in there?¡± He looks from the blood stains on the brick and dark wood, to me, then to the vomit in the alley.

    ¡°It has a roof,¡± Esilea says, adjusting her satchel. ¡°Good enough for me.¡± Maybe Esilea won¡¯t be that bad after all. ¡°Now let¡¯s take care of the inhabitants and sleep.¡± Damn, spoke too soon.

    ¡°No!¡± I hiss, stepping in front of her. She dips her head, looking around wearily, reaching into her bag. Icarus hunches over in his chair, gripping the wheels tightly.

    ¡°Why are you whispering?¡± She hisses back.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want Naiomi hearing us. That would be very bad.¡± I glance around in the darkness, staying two steps away from the door at all times. I know from personal experience the walls and doors are thin. Gods, so very thin.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Naiomi?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be me,¡± Everyone turns to the alley in a blur of action, Esilea is armed and ready before Naiomi has even shown herself. She slips out of the darkness, crossbow pointed almost casually in our direction. ¡°Easy cupcake, put that away before you hurt yourself.¡± Naiomi says nonchalantly, nodding at Esilea¡¯s sword.

    ¡°I knew we couldn¡¯t trust him!¡± Esilea snaps at Icarus, shielding his body with hers, sword pointed at my chest. Why is it always me?

    ¡°Easy now,¡± I say, holding up my hands. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve had two armed and angry women on my hands. Unfortunately, unlike then, I have no windows nearby to jump out of.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an ambush,¡± Naiomi says, striding past me and opening the door. ¡°I know exactly why you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡± Icarus peeks out from around Esilea¡¯s solid frame. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Namonai has been on a real dumbass streak lately,¡± The Kitsune responds. Ouch. ¡°I figured he¡¯d do something like this, it was only a matter of time. Now,¡± she cocks her head towards the soft light of the empty tavern, ¡°get in before I change my mind.¡± Esilea looks at Naiomi cautiously, before doing as she¡¯s told, Icarus wheeling in after her.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Icarus says. He smiles up at Naiomi. She doesn¡¯t smile back.

    ¡°You and your partner will sleep in the cellar tonight. It¡¯s the locked door. Here¡¯s a key.¡± She tosses it to him and gives his chair a shove, sending him flying into the room. I move to follow, and feel her soft hand on the back of my neck, slowly squeezing. ¡°Not you,¡± Naiomi whispers, her voice like the soft promise of a blade being drawn. ¡°We need to talk.¡±

    <hr><hr>

    Naiomi props her feet on the table, boots shaking the thick wood with a heavy thud. She keeps the crossbow in her lap, motioning for me to sit.

    ¡°What about¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± She says, giving a quick glance at the closed cellar door. I sit in my chair, head down, trying to slow my breathing. I¡¯m in big trouble this time. Like, really big trouble. My left leg bounces as I fidget with my fingers nervously. I feel like I¡¯m going to crawl out of my skin. Just say something already, dammit!

    I flick my eyes up. She¡¯s just looking at me with that same even stare, thin eyes boring a hole into me. A neutral expression is at home on her angular face, with high cheekbones that could cut, and thin lips compressed into a straight line. I hate not being able to read her.

    ¡°Naiomi, listen. Things got a bit out of control. I didn¡¯t mean to bring them here, it just sort of¡­happened.¡± Still, she remains silent. I let out an explosive breath, leaning forward. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Take it off,¡± she says, a hard edge in her voice. I quickly yank my mask off, holding it under the table. I can¡¯t believe I forgot, damn it all! ¡°Don¡¯t wear that thing around me, do you understand?¡± I nod quickly. ¡°Say it!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I understand. I¡¯m sorry, I forgot.¡±

    ¡°I can never forget,¡± After a moment her body relaxes, and her tall Kitsune frame unwinds. ¡°I don¡¯t care why they¡¯re here, Namonai. I know the cripple is Icarus; he looks the same as his uncle. Which means he¡¯s a genius. And his partner¡ª¡±

    ¡°Esilea.¡± I interject.

    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± She dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand. ¡°His partner is obviously a trained warrior. Both of which are useful. They can stay.¡± I relax, putting my elbows on the table. Thank the gods I don¡¯t have to tell Esilea that she has to leave. She scares me almost as much as Naiomi. Almost. ¡°But,¡± Of course there¡¯s a ¡®but¡¯. There always is. ¡°I need my money.¡± Out of the corner of my eye, I see a bit of paper sticking out of her pocket. Without missing a beat, she pushes the paper out of sight, leaning forward in the dim light. ¡°I mean it this time.¡±

    ¡°I want to pay you, Naiomi. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡­can¡¯t.¡± I swallow, putting my face in my hands. Gods, why do I always do this? Come on Namonai, get your shit together. She deserves that money. ¡°There are others who, well¡­I¡¯m already running late on their payments.¡± I swallow hard, past the lump in my throat. I blink hard, taking a deep breath that rattles my chest. Cautiously, I glance up at Naiomi, who sits there looking¡­looking¡­understanding. I hate when she does that. When she knows what¡¯s going on in my head, in my messed up life, and she forgives me. I screwed up! I¡¯m sorry! Shoot me for it! But I can¡¯t say that, and she wouldn¡¯t regardless.

    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± She stands, ears twitching. Naiomi puts a warm hand on my head, ruffling my hair. ¡°Go to Midas, give him the second half of the map, and collect your payment. Finish the job, pay your debtors, and get me my rent.¡± She stops before she mounts the stairs to her room, looking back at me in the near darkness. For a moment, I can almost hear a quiver in her voice. ¡°Please.¡±

 Chapter 4.2: The Routine

    ¡°Mm, something smells delicious.¡± I yawn as the morning light peeks in through the grimy windows and closed shades.

    ¡°Morning.¡± Naiomi nearly snaps, reaching for a steaming hot mug while shoveling food into her mouth. She¡¯s not a morning person.

    ¡°It smells great. Which means you didn¡¯t fix it.¡± I dodge the lazily thrown empty wooden bowl, but not the sucker punch that is Naiomi¡¯s glare.

    ¡°Icarus did.¡± I nearly jump out of my pajamas at the sound of Esilea¡¯s voice, turning in her direction. I really wish people would stop sneaking up on me. Esilea straightens chairs around the table, frowning when she realizes there isn¡¯t a way to have even spacing with the number of chairs per table. I hope it bugs her all day. ¡°He also fixed your squeaky doors, evened the bottoms of your stools and chairs, cleaned your dishes, organized your stores, and reinforced the locks on your doors.¡± Well hot damn, I knew that kid was something special. Esilea throws me a hard glance, frowning before going back to her chairs. ¡°He¡¯s sleeping now.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Naiomi sets her mug and wooden plate on Esilea¡¯s table. ¡°That means you get to clean. Supplies are upstairs in the first room on your left.¡± She flashes the warrior a sadistic smile at the base of the stairs. ¡°Have fun.¡± Esilea waits until Naiomi is gone before turning to me, leaning back against the table.

    ¡°That is a woman.¡± Esilea says appreciatively and I nod, grabbing the last bowl of food, scooping down my throat as fast as I can. ¡°Is she with anyone?¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± I mumble, swallowing painfully, chasing it with a glass of warm water. ¡°But she¡¯s not seeing you, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure.¡± Esilea says with a grin.

    ¡°Naiomi doesn¡¯t really like¡­people.¡± I reply, wiping food off my chin and licking it off. ¡°I¡¯m an obvious exception.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not?...¡± She begins, looking down at her feet. I shake my head.

    ¡°No. She just doesn¡¯t stab me, unlike how she treats most others.¡±

    ¡°She hasn¡¯t stabbed me.¡±

    ¡°Yet.¡± I reply with a small grin. Esilea frowns, eyes roaming over my face. For the first time, I think she¡¯s uncomfortable. Have I made the mighty warrior uncomfortable with my face? I¡­don¡¯t think that¡¯s something to brag about, though.

    ¡°So¡­¡± She scoops all the bowls and utensils up, pausing before she heads back into the kitchen. ¡°What¡¯s with your face?¡± Esilea definitely isn¡¯t the tactful one out of the duo. I absently run a hand over the bandages covering the entirety of my face, save my eyes, with holes only for my lips and nostrils.

    ¡°I got burned.¡± I reply, making my way into my room.

    I hear the clatter of dishes through the thin walls, Esilea shouting to be heard. Not that she needs to.

    ¡°Really?¡± She asks as I shrug off my shirt.

    ¡°Yeah. Happened when I was a kid.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°How?¡± I begin slipping on a fresh pair of pants, yanking them up above my waist and cinching a belt across them.

    ¡°Parents always told me it was an accident.¡± I frown, pulling a shirt over my unruly hair, careful of the bandages. ¡°But they always looked real ashamed when they said it. Never really knew my mom,¡± I slip socks on. ¡°She left when I was still young. My dad was the best though.¡± I smile, bandages twisting like snakes as I stuff my feet into sturdy boots. ¡°I remember this one time, we were swimming, and he taught me about all the fish. Not just in that area. All of them. The man was a god.¡± I slip my mask on, grabbing the map and a small pouch of gold. I make a mental note to stop by Baerus¡¯ shop as I step out of my room. Esilea¡¯s eyes meet mine through the window from the bar to the kitchen. ¡°But, that¡¯s enough story time for today. Have fun. The grownups need to work.¡±

    She slams dishes down.  ¡°I¡¯m older than you!¡±

    I stop at the entrance, door half open, looking back; she can¡¯t see my smile. ¡°No, you¡¯re definitely not.¡±

    ||||||||||

    ¡°C¡¯mon man, it was your cheap-ass weapons that broke. Why should I have to pay for the replacements when it wasn¡¯t even my fault?¡± The small man looks up at me from underneath his thick eyebrows, copper beard twitching as he smiles. Baerus is always smiling, even when he¡¯s conning you out of your hard earned money. A man after my own heart.

    ¡°And what were you doing with those ¡®cheap-ass weapons,¡¯ mate?¡±

    I fidget, brushing my hand across the back of my head. ¡°You know, uh, stuff.¡±

    Baerus lets out a bark of laughter, climbing the rolling ladder deftly, despite his stocky bulk.

    ¡°Stuff! You¡¯re always doing ¡®stuff¡¯, Namonai. Besides,¡± He pulls out a well-wrapped brown box from one of the top shelves, climbing down and setting it down on the counter. ¡°I have durable weapons. You just never buy them.¡±

    ¡°Like I can afford your prices.¡±

    ¡°Nobody can.¡± He says with a wink, bringing out a locked metal box. This is our dance. I try to get weapons for free, he gets me the usual. Then the box comes out. Always the box. He whispers softly to it, and the top clicks open with a barely audible hiss. All of Baerus¡¯ regulars know the ritual, and just have to deal with it. ¡°Two kusarigama, stock material. Rush order, as usual. That¡¯ll be five coins, two tiks.¡±

    I sigh, bringing up my pouch, counting out the money. Malor is one of the few countries in this world with a standardized money system. You have tiks, small square pieces of gold barely larger than your thumbnail. Five tiks for a coin. Fifty tiks for a medallion¡ªa half circle about the size of half a palm; one hundred tiks for a bar¡ªa thin rectangle of gold the size of a hand. Of course, you also have ingots. But nobody is rich enough to use ingots.

    ¡°How¡¯s business going man?¡± I pull out three coins, plopping them down. I hope I can find a couple more coins; I hate plopping a handful of tiks down to pay. People always look at you like you¡¯re cheap. Which, if you¡¯re paying entirely in tiks, you probably are.

    ¡°Can¡¯t complain. Had an influx of foreigners after trouble began in the Kingdom. Can you believe what they¡¯re saying, about ghouls and plagues? It¡¯s ridiculous.¡± I keep quiet, setting another coin down. ¡°Queens with light powers, shadow controlling mass murderers. This world¡¯s going to the dogs, I tell ya. But all them little scared pups are good for business. Everybody wants weapons.¡± He chuckles, eyeing my pouch while I scrounge for another coin. Come on, just one more. Just one more. ¡°Akath¡¯s been giving me a bit of trouble though.¡±

    My eyebrows arch behind my mask, as I set down seven tiks on the table. ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°The usual. More money, or he¡¯ll burn my place down, I should be lucky he¡¯s ¡®protecting¡¯ me. The same ol¡¯ shit he¡¯s been saying for years.¡±

    ¡°Then what¡¯s the problem?¡± I ask. Baerus swipes the gold into his box, clicking it shut and tucking it away.

    ¡°He brought out his girls this time.¡± I suck in a breath. Damn.

    ¡°Well, you know, everybody¡¯s on edge more these days. What with the queen holding up in her castle, and just letting Inari¡¯s agents run loose. People are talking now. I¡¯m sure Akath¡¯s just making sure you know what¡¯s what.¡± I reason.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right.¡± Baerus unwraps the box, giving me the two shoddily crafted kusarigama. Oh baby, I missed you. Come to daddy. I slip their familiar weight through my hands, fastening them to my belt.

    ¡°Thanks Baerus!¡± I wave to the little man, the shop bell tinkling as I leave. Time to get Naiomi her money.

 Chapter 5.1: Taking Care of Business

    I slam the metal knocker down on the door, sighing when the guard dogs start barking. While I wait, I finger the second half of the map in my pocket. I hate giving Midas leverage, I hate it. But, I do need that money. I wish I could wait until he was really desperate, and squeeze him a bit more. Naiomi shouldn¡¯t have to wait any longer though; I owe two bars total to all my¡­associates. That¡¯s a lot of money in the Jungle. And Naiomi needs three medallions for the rent I¡¯ve been missing for a few months. I reach up under my mask, pinching the bridge of my nose. Why do I do this?

    ¡°Can I hel¡ªoh.¡± I slide my mask back down, looking up at the door. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡±

    ¡°Hello Aberlocke. Is Midas here?¡± I ask, biting back a smile.

    ¡°Aberlocke! Who¡¯s disturbing breakfast?¡± I grin at the sound of Midas¡¯ voice, pushing past the butler in an instant. Well that answers that.

    ¡°No!¡± Aberlocke reaches for me, monocle shining in the morning light. ¡°You can¡¯t just go in and disturb him.¡± I wrap my arm around his, twisting abruptly and pushing him out the door.

    ¡°Dogs stay outside.¡± Aberlocke rushes forward and I slam the door in his face, twisting the lock. Gods that was satisfying.

    ¡°Aberlocke!¡± Sounds like Midas is in the dining room. Probably eating diamond encrusted strawberries and drinking wine made out of gold. Or whatever it is rich people do. I pad softly towards the sound of Midas¡¯ voice, leaning in the entryway of the dining room. Well, it¡¯s not wine made out of gold, but it has more creature comforts than most Malorians have ever seen. Midas sits at the head of a long, ornate, dining table laden with mouthwatering dishes. Handcrafted drapes cascade down the sides of the windows. They¡¯re pulled back to let in the bright morning sun.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I clear my throat. Midas jumps, turning in my direction; his surprise is honestly a bit satisfying. ¡°Your butler is a bit¡­preoccupied.¡± His face begins to turn the same shade as the strawberry he¡¯s holding. He sets it down so hard the plate rattles.

    ¡°How dare you break into my house!¡±

    ¡°Technically,¡± I mosey over to the table and pop a strawberry into my mouth under my mask, ¡°I was let in.¡± Midas takes a deep breath, smoothing out his forest green robe. He runs a hand through his dark hair, standing tall. He turns to me, an imperious look in his eye.

    ¡°Well, get on with it. Why are you here?¡± I reach into my pocket, my other hand on my kusarigama. It feels so good to be armed once more.

    ¡°Why do you think?¡± I pull out the second half of the map, waving it back and forth a little. ¡°I think I found something you were looking for.¡± Midas lunges forward but I take a step back, yanking the map out of reach.

    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± He hisses, forehead veins popping.

    ¡°Like I said, I found it. Now,¡± I rub the handles of my weapons slowly, ¡°I want my money, and you get your map.¡± Midas looks from me to the map, then slowly straightens. He lets out a long breath through his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. Does this mean he¡¯s going to give me more money? Or is he just trying to control his rage? People oftentimes have to control their rage around me. I don¡¯t know why.

    ¡°No.¡± Excuse me? He slowly begins to remove his gloves, looking at the table all the while. ¡°I¡¯ll find what I¡¯m looking for, whether you give me that map or not. Whatever you decide to do, I won¡¯t be paying you.¡± He holds eye contact with me, placing his hand on the table. A soft shimmer runs out from his bare palms as the table is slowly encased in gold. The creeping golden wave winds its way up the plates and bowls, consuming the fruit and their containers. It begins to spread down the table legs to the floor when Midas lifts his hand, taking a step closer to me.

    ¡°Hey now,¡± I raise my hands, ¡°No need to do anything you¡¯ll regret.¡± I flick my eyes around the room, angling my steps towards the exit, slowly pulling one of my weapons out. I can¡¯t pay anybody gold if I am gold.

    ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t regret this,¡± Midas says. There¡¯s a sinister look in his eye that I don¡¯t quite like. He reaches out for me with long fingers. ¡°In fact, I think I¡¯ll quite enjoy it.¡±

 Chapter 5.2: Taking Care of Business

    ¡°Midas!¡± We both snap to the left as a panel in the wall slides, and a short woman steps out. She¡¯s encased in a large robe, hiding most of her features. But her voice rings out clear. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m solving our problems!¡± He snaps, turning back towards me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a problem, I swear.¡± I tell the woman, raising up my hands, letting my kusarigama drop back into its place on my belt. ¡°I just came here to give Midas the map that he paid me to get.¡±

    ¡°He stole that map!¡± Midas lunges for me and I jump back, nearly stumbling over a small table. My heart leaps into my throat as Midas stalks closer, fingers twitching by his side; I don¡¯t think he¡¯s interested in talking right now.

    ¡°Calm down, you old goat!¡± The woman slips into view, slapping Midas in the face with his gloves. I wince, taking another step back in the silence that follows. But nothing happens. ¡°Now go get this young man his money.¡± Midas opens his mouth but the woman slaps him with the gloves again before putting them in his hands. ¡°Now.¡± He slips his gloves on while he walks down the hall, glaring at me until he rounds the corner.

    ¡°Um, thank you.¡± I say. The woman flips her hood back, revealing a warm smile, half of her cheek and jaw completely missing skin and muscle, white bones clacking against each other.

    ¡°Of course. I apologize about Midas. He can get a little too caught up when it comes to money.¡±

    ¡°Well, money is important.¡± I admit. She shakes her head, curly salt and pepper hair shaking.

    ¡°There are powers in this world greater than money.¡± She reaches out her short fingers, snatching the map from me before I can respond. Why do people always do that? I need to hold things tighter from now on. We wait in silence for a moment before she speaks again, my eyes flicking around the room.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I clear my throat, shifting my weight between my feet. ¡°I don¡¯t believe, um, that I caught your name?¡±

    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t give it,¡± She looks at me and gives a short cackle, slapping her knees, revealing fragments of exposed bone amongst her dark skin. She wipes a tear from one of her eyes, pulling out a small vial from her robe and slipping the tear in, tucking the glass container back away. ¡°My name is Marinette.¡±

    ¡°Namonai.¡± I reply, extending my hand; she gives me a firm shake. I see a glimmer in her eye as she smiles, pulling me a bit closer.

    ¡°Say, Namonai, how would you like to do some more work?¡± I look nervously from her hand still clutching mine to her face. Marinette might just be crazy. Which would be my luck. Everyone in this whole damn house is probably looney. Especially the butler.

    ¡°For Midas?¡±

    ¡°For me, for Midas. Same thing,¡± she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, ¡°But I can promise you it pays well.¡± Alright, now I¡¯m intrigued. She raises a bushy eyebrow, gripping my hand tighter. ¡°Money is important to you, isn¡¯t it? Which means you owe others money.¡± Oh she¡¯s good. ¡°Let me see¡­who could you possibly owe money to?¡± She slips her hand out of mine, tapping her chin. ¡°Khalil? No, not Khalil. It¡¯s Chayton, isn¡¯t it?¡± I remain silent, gripping the handles of my weapons. How does she know that? ¡°Well good! It just so happens I need something that Chayton has. And you will get it for me.¡±

    Midas walks in, sullenly carrying a small bag of money. He hands it to me, staring daggers the whole while. I slip the pouch into my pocket, rubbing my kusarigama slowly. That pouch wasn¡¯t as heavy as it should be. It¡¯s not enough money. Which means¡­ah hell.

    ¡°What do you need me to get?¡± I force a smile onto my face beneath the mask, letting it reach my eyes. She¡¯s crazy and Midas is rich; I don¡¯t want to push any buttons. Well, I want to. But I shouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°A small totem that Chayton has. He won¡¯t miss it.¡± I nod. Right. Small totem, very descriptive. ¡°And if he happens to meet some unfortunate accident in the process, I promise you¡¯ll have our full protection.¡±

    I pause on my way out, looking behind me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not an assassin,¡± I reply, all traces of a smile gone.

    ¡°Whatever you say,¡± Marinette waves her hand and shoos me away. I put my hand on the door and sigh. I forgot Aberlocke was still out there. Oh boy.

 Chapter 5.3: Taking Care of Business

    The doors open silently, and close with a soft click. I slump against the door. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. I look down at my clothes, curling my lips in disgust at the white garb of Inari¡¯s agents. You don¡¯t just walk into Chayton¡¯s Thunderbird Casino without a disguise. Especially if, like me, you owe him money. He doesn¡¯t like when people owe him money. I weave my way past the room¡¯s support pillars, knocking on the wood behind Chayton¡¯s desk.

    Getting the disguise wasn¡¯t difficult, and lucky for me, Chayton¡¯s guards are¡­what¡¯s the word I¡¯m looking for? Right. They¡¯re dumb. But I don¡¯t have long in the office, as I¡¯m sure Chayton is bound to visit it at some point. Especially if an agent of Inari was spotted heading in that direction. One of the panels on the wall gives me a low thud and I grin; a hollow section. Classic. I slide it open and groan. Just a secret exit. I need to find a safe. I turn to his desk; something in the low torchlight looks shiny. I like shiny. I run my hands over the desk and press a small button and one of desk doors opens quietly. Bingo.

    I press my ear to the safe, twisting the knob a few times. This isn¡¯t my first rodeo. I¡¯m a thief, not an assassin. Well, I guess I¡¯m many things, really. That¡¯s not important right now.

    With a satisfying click the safe slowly opens, and I rub my hands together. Wait a second¡­something isn¡¯t right¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± I freeze, pressing myself to the desk. ¡°Why would one of Inari¡¯s agents want to break into my office?¡± I slowly stand, looking at Chayton. His beaded hair swings, and in his hands are two metal batons. A handful of guards stand at the ready behind him.

    ¡°What we do is none of your business.¡± I snap. I do my best to seem intimidating and official, voice coming out sharp and clipped. That was good! I nearly convinced myself.

    ¡°Well, right now you¡¯re in my business. This is my pride and joy, my home.¡± He takes a step closer, air crackling with energy as he spins the vibrating rods. ¡°Nobody steals from me.¡± I pull out my kusarigama, chains clacking on the floor as the guards block the exit. So we¡¯re doing this then? He points one of the rods at me, waves of pressure emanating from the sleek metal. ¡°Nobody.¡± Guess we¡¯re doing this.

    Chayton lunges forward while I roll, shattering his desk with a loud boom. Damn, those sticks are powerful. I come up, turning to one the guards, but find that she¡¯s occupied. What the hell? Amidst the guards and a whirlwind of blood and fury is a small woman. Bright runes etched into her poison green scales glow brightly, while bright red whips slice flesh and crack bone. The bladed tendrils of the whips seem to have a mind of their own, quickly clearing the room.

    Chayton puts a hole in the wall where my head was just a moment before. Focus on the fight. Not the mystery lizard woman. Gods, this is a weird day.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°So,¡± I roll back from Chayton¡¯s blow, directing my words at the reptilian newcomer. ¡°Did Marinette send you too?¡± Her head snaps in my direction and I blink in surprise. She¡¯s blindfolded? Now she¡¯s just making me look bad. She cracks her whip in my direction and I¡¯m barely able to avoid the deadly blows. Unfortunately for my weapons, they don¡¯t fare so well. One tendril shatters my kusarigama, another knocking a pillar out of place. Before I can recover, Chayton is swinging his thunder sticks again. Give me a break!

    ¡°I¡¯ll die before you steal from me!¡± He shouts, breaking a pillar clean in two. Oh, I have an idea. I angle myself in front of the next pillar, whips and clubs following me as I move around the room. The roof groans above us, and the lizard assassin looks up just in time. I roll forward, pushing Chayton towards the collapsing ceiling, snatching the chain from around his neck. And on it? A small little boar. That sure looks like a totem to me.

    I leap back as the ceiling caves in, burying the casino owner. I race towards the hollow panel, crashing through it into a dark hall. I race through a maze of tunnels, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, when I hear a sharp crack behind me. Warm blood runs down one of my legs. Damn, she got me! Which means she¡¯s following me. Perfect.

    The afternoon sun nearly blinds me when I come out of the tunnels near the docks. Several men stand there, knives and clubs at hand.

    ¡°Give me the totem.¡± My eyes snap to the woman in front, skin as dark as the water behind her. Bright tattoos glow on her body, hypnotizing me with every small movement she makes. I shake my head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think so, Karha.¡±

    ¡°Namonai?¡± She asks incredulously. Her face contorts into anger as I begin racing away, and I hear her men start the chase. ¡°After him!¡±

    My lungs burn as I twist through the alleys away from the docks. Suddenly, I¡¯m nearly thrown off my feet by a body slamming into me. I stumble back, lashing out.

    ¡°Sorry, Marazan!¡± I call out, the large beastman clutching his snout.

    ¡°Namonai?¡± I look behind me in time to see him snarl, his gang, the Dier Fiends, coming out of the shadows. ¡°He has the totem!¡± Does everybody want this totem? I skid around the corner, throwing my hand out. It catches around a rusty ladder and I scamper up the fire escape, snarls and shouts not far behind. Karha, Marazan, and a mystery assassin? I¡¯m so screwed.

    I yank myself up onto the roof, eyeing the gap between buildings. With my kusarigama, I could have grappled across; there¡¯s no way I can make that distance with my bare hands. I back away from the fire escape as it shakes, Dier Fiends pouring up like zoo escapees. The roof access door bursts open, and Karha and her gang, Symbiosis, charge towards me. I jump back as the assassin slings the tendrils of her whips in my direction, my feet scraping against the edge of the roof. This might be it for me.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Of course, nobody does. ¡°Stop or I drop it!¡± I hold the totem out over the side, and everyone skids to a halt. Now that¡¯s more like it.

    ¡°Give us the totem, Namonai.¡± Marazan growls, stalking forward.

    ¡°Shut your trap you mangy mutt!¡± Karha steps forward with a hiss, tattoos gleaming. The assassin simply holds out clawed hand, blood red whip still for the moment.

    ¡°Just don¡¯t come any closer.¡± I warn, taking a step back. But I only step onto air, and before I can recover, I¡¯m falling back into nothing. Shit.

 Chapter 6.1: Rise and Shine

    "No!" I struggle to open my eyes, as if they''ve been glued shut. I can barely move my limbs at all. Where am I? This doesn''t feel like the flea-bitten mattress I''ve come to know and love. No, it feels...nice.

    "Give me the totem!" Midas? Is that Midas? Which means...ah hell.

    "Don''t touch me!" With tremendous effort I force my eyelids apart. Low candlelight welcomes me back to consciousness. The blurry outlines of Midas and the mystery assassin stand a few feet away in a heated debate. I stifle a groan while I slowly turn my head; it feels like daggers pierce my skull with every movement, my vertebrae grinding against each other. Marinette sits nestled in a large chair, curled up in her large robe, her eyes locked on me. She smiles and waves her stubby fingers in my direction. I screw my eyes shut and take a deep breath. Why couldn''t I have just died?

    "Excuse me," I rasp. My tongue feels like sandpaper. Nobody except Marinette pays me any attention. The lizard woman yanks the boar totem from Midas'' grip, dancing back out of his reach.

    "Excuse me!" They finally notice me and stop, each wearing their own brand of shock and rage. "That''s better," I whisper, sitting myself up, arms shaking.

    "You should be dead," The lizard woman says in disbelief.

    "I should be a lot of things," I groan in reply, "But dead ain''t one of ''em. Now, tell me what''s going on." A cacophony of shouting and expletives follow that nearly burst my eardrums. Midas lunges for the assassin but she spins out of his reach in a moment. They stumble back over a table. The assassin deftly leaps to her feet while Midas simply rushes after her in a half-crouched position.

    "That totem is mine!" Midas shouts. I sigh and reach down for my one remaining kusarigama. I sling the chain forward, the weighted ball burying itself in the wall, separating the two combatants. They both turn to me with a snarl.

    "You have no right to¡ª"

    "Shut up," The assassin takes a step back, and even Midas gives me a puzzled look. "I''m honestly tired of this shit. I nearly died. Do you understand me?" I look at each of them, pulling my chain back, gripping the wooden handle of my weapon tight. I''m done with this. "Now somebody is going to start explaining what the hell is going on." For a moment, there''s silence. Then, Midas lunges forward, yanking the boar from the assassin''s hand.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "I got it!" He shouts gleefully, holding it high. Marinette appears and smacks the back of his head, plucking the totem away and handing it to the assassin.

    "Here you go, dear," She smiles, sitting back down in her chair. "Do your thing," She says, waving her hands. The lizard woman looks cautiously from a deflated Midas to a smiling Marinette, and then to me. How does she even know where we are with the blindfold on? She looks down at the boar totem and I shrug. In that second, nobody moves or dares to breathe. Then, the woman grips the small wooden statue firmly, and with a ripple of lean muscle, snaps it clean in half with a sharp crack.

    "You crazy bitch!" Midas starts forward, but Marinette''s glare halts him. The lizard woman pulls out a large diamond ring, shining in the low light. Marinette stands slowly, shuffling over to the assassin.

    "Splendid," She mutters, looking from the ring to the assassin. "And whom do I have to thank for revealing this to us?"

    "I am Wikolia the Wyvern," She replies, standing tall. I snort and her head snaps in my direction. "Do you find that amusing?"

    "No, Namonai the Desperately Poor, finds nothing amusing about your..." I tap my mask in thought, grinning the whole while. "Title."

    "You know nothing, magwhin." She mutters, tapping her claws on her scales. Odd, most would have snapped at me. Oh this is going to be interesting.

    "Easy now, Miss Wyvern," Marinette says, stepping between us. How does she maintain a straight face while saying that? "He meant no offense. Now, please, direct us. You have found the item; where does this path take us now?" Wikolia stops tapping, inspecting the gold and diamond wedding band. Her split tongue flicks out and she recoils a bit, hissing.

    "You are looking for Kamapua''a, the boar god." She says, holding out the ring. Marinette pushes the ring back, smiling.

    "Keep it. You''re going to need it when you take Namonai to this boar god." She wants me to go with the Wyvern girl? Really?

    "No!" Wikolia protests.

    "Listen to Marinette!" Midas thunders, ripping off his gloves. That''s my cue to leave. I stand with a pained groan, joints popping. I grab Wikolia by the elbow but she yanks her arm away. So, it''s going to be like that, huh?

    "I wouldn''t test Midas," I whisper. I know that if she wasn''t wearing that blindfoldd, her eyes would be searching all over my face. The great thing about a mask is nobody can read your expression. I tug on her shirt gently as I begin to walk. "Come on, let''s just get this over with." With reluctance, the Wyvern begins to follow, muttering softly to herself the whole way. This is going to be fun.

 Chapter 6.2: Rise and Shine

    The coach rattles on the rough dirt road, rocking the Wyvern and I around in the worn, padded interior. We decided to sit on opposite sides of the carriage; it was best for both of us. She''s sat completely still for the ride so far: back ramrod straight, legs curved at nearly a ninety degree angle, hands placed in her lap. She hasn''t turned her head in my direction once. Not that I''m complaining. I sigh, leaning my head against the aged wood; Midas made us get our own ride, even though he could afford to have us driven in a fleet of carriages. I just don''t get rich people.

    "So," I tap my fingers on the wood absentmindedly, "This boar god, huh?" The assassin remains stoically silent. Surprise, surprise. "What''s the deal with those whips?" Still, nothing. "How does one go about being called ''the Wyvern'' anyway?" Most people would''ve answered just to shut me up by now; she''s impressive. "Why¡ª"

    "Will you stop that?" She hisses. I drum my fingers on the wood faster, grinning.

    "Sure I will. If," I begin tapping my foot quickly. "You tell me what the deal is with this boar god." Wikolia''s fingers twitch in her lap. Is she really going to be able to deal with this the whole ride?

    "Fine!" She slowly turns head in my direction. "Just...just stop."

    "As you wish," I reply with a smile, holding still for the moment. Wikolia takes a deep breath, relaxing her hands in her lap.

    "This ring," She says, holding up the wedding band, "Was created by the love of Kamapua''a, the boar god, and Pele, the volcano goddess. Kamapua''a found the coal and gold, and Pele helped form it into something beautiful."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "So how did it come to be inside that totem?" I ask, leaning forward.

    "I''m not quite sure," She says, turning it over in her hand. "Kamapua''a and Pele were a volatile couple. He chased her for centuries; they went together like fire and gunpowder. She was indignant and stubborn; he was carefree and reckless. For a time, everything was fine. But they had a..." She pauses for a moment, "a falling out. Kamapua''a hasn''t been seen since." I lean back, crossing my arms across my chest.

    "That sounds like a one-sided love," I retort. Just the thought of the story leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Love is so precious, and to be wasted on such a pair...the universe is a bitch.

    "Some would say it''s romantic," Wikolia defends, gingerly placing the ring back in her pocket.

    "Some would be wrong," I say. Wikolia''s nostrils flair slightly, but I get no other reaction.

    "You wouldn''t understand." She retorts sharply.

    "So, where''s Pele now?"

    "Last I heard she was in Aevus'' court." I uncross my arms, raising an eyebrow. Aevus'' court? Pele is on Father Time''s council? Well, now I''ve heard everything.

    "And how would you know all of this, hm?" The Wyvern turns her head away from me, putting her hands back in her lap and straightening her back. "So is that it? You''re done talking to me?"

    "I have a question for you," She whispers, still not looking at me. Well, I actually don''t know where she''s looking because of the blindfold. I''m starting to understand why people don''t like my mask.

    "Shoot," I say with a smile, spreading my arms. "I''m an open book."

    "Why do you continue to slave away for Midas and Marinette, when you clearly hate it?" I bring my arms back in front of my chest with a huff. I said I was an open book, not an info whore.

    "My reasons are my own," I snap.

    "I see," Is all I get. But out of the corner of my eye, I see the Wyvern smirk. She just had to ruin the banter, didn''t she? Well, fine. A coach drive in silence it is.

 Chapter 7.1: Mercy

    "That''ll be three tiks," The cabdriver says, holding out her grubby hand. I turn to Wikolia but she''s already walking towards the rusted wrought-iron fence. Quiet and cheap; Naiomi would like her. I sigh, reaching into my pouch, to pull out the gold, letting it tinkle down into the cabbie''s palm. "It''s customary to leave a tip," She says, her dirty fingers wiggling impatiently.

    "It''s customary not to be greedy," I retort. Her eyes widen and her mouth flattens into a line. She looks like a toad; and honestly...doesn''t smell much better. But that could be the decaying woods on the edge of the mansion''s property. Why does the boar god have to live all the way out here? The Kingdom has the Black Forest. What do we get? Garbage Woods.

    "Have you been in Malor, son? Greed''s all we know," She says, taking a threatening step forward. Gods, don''t make me stab a woman today. The Wyvern was enough of a test. I refrain from sighing as I straighten my shoulders.

    "I''m sure Inari will be happy to know that," I keep my voice cool and even. "A Cleansing might be in order. Those loyal to the Kitsune were spared last time, of course," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I''m sure you''ve made your offerings, though. You should have nothing to worry about," I pat her on the cheek. She can''t seem to find her words. She tries to put the money back in my hands. Now that, is what I''m talking about.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wikolia on the other side of the fence stalking closer to the house. I''m not letting her screw this up. I push the cabbie''s hand back, closing it around the small gold pieces. "Keep it. Remember, the virtuous are always spared." I say solemnly. She nods her head quickly, neck fat jiggling while I make my way past her. By the time I look back from the rusted gate, her coach is flying down the desolate forest road. Damn, I forgot we need a ride back. I probably shouldn''t have scared her. It was satisfying, though.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    My boots crunch softly on the dead grass. I keep myself slightly bent over as I scurry up to Wikolia. She turns her head in my direction, forked tongue flicking out for a moment. That''s a bit disturbing...

    "So good of you to finally join," She says dryly, creeping closer to the run-down mansion. It presents a stark contrast to the lavish luxury of Midas'' residence. The plantation style house is falling apart at the seams. White paint peels off the surface, exposing the rotting wood underneath. What is it with the wealthy and white paint? I don''t think I''ll ever understand. I follow Wikolia, maintaining an even pace at her side.

    "I was preoccupied!" I hiss.

    "We''re about to become a lot more than preoccupied," She whispers, stopping next to the house. She reaches down to the lock and chain keeping the decaying cellar doors closed. Her brow creases and she gives the handle a firm shake.

    "Allow me," I say, holding up my hand. I remove a few slivers of metal from the seams of my pants, opening them with a click. A thief always carries tools. My fingers work quickly on the old padlock, fighting against the rusted mechanisms. Finally, the lock screeches open; it''s worse than nails on a chalkboard. The chains fall to the ground. I wrap them around my arm, kicking the padlock away. Wikolia raises an eyebrow at me, though they''re barely distinguishable from her scales. "What? I''m one weapon short," I answer her unasked question by gesturing to the empty spot on my belt.

    I shrug the chain on my shoulder, gingerly stepping down the old cellar steps. They creak with each fall of my boot. I breathe a sigh of relief once I''m standing on relatively stable ground. Wikolia closes the cellar doors behind her, plunging us into darkness.

    "I can''t see!" I hiss, holding one hand out. I grope the air, searching for a wall while chains rattle on my shoulder with each movement.

    "Follow me," Wikolia whispers, grabbing my arm and leading the way. I catch the dim outlines of shelves and smashed crates. Looks like someone''s already here. The Wyvern navigates us through the abandoned room so fast I can barely get a clear look. Before I know it, we''re mounting the flimsy steps to, presumably, the kitchen.

    A step gives way with a sharp snap. My body tips backwards into the darkness. Shit!

 Chapter 7.2: Mercy

    A step gives way with a sharp snap. My body tips backward into darkness. Shit! I grab my kusarigama, but Wikolia reacts quickly and yanks me onto the next step. I put my hands on my knees and take a deep breath, dropping my weapon back in its rightful place. That was close. Too close. Am I getting sloppy? I straighten, rolling my shoulders.

    "Thanks," I say, searching for the outline of the Wyvern in the darkness.

    "You can repay the favor later," She replies, opening the doors to the kitchen. Yeah, Naiomi would definitely like her.

    The kitchen and storerooms are similar to the rest of the house: abandoned and falling apart. I carefully step around the pots and pans that have been strewn haphazardly about the floor, as well as a decaying rolling pin. Can you imagine if I had stepped on that? The comedy would have been priceless. Not that Wikolia would appreciate it. I''m not sure the lizard would know humor if it hit her in the head. Do reptiles even have a sense of humor?

    "Stop that," Wikolia says, stopping at the door to the kitchen.

    "What?" This time, I really wasn''t doing anything. Honest.

    "You''re thinking negative thoughts about me," She replies softly, keeping her back turned to me, head down.

    "How would you know that?" I retort, leaning against the wall. Termites only eat wood, right?

    "Thoughts have particular tastes and smells," She explains, slowly opening the door. "There are certain ones I''ve learned to identify, like positive and negative. I tend to read negative thoughts a lot around me." I open my mouth, but close it again. Is she really that sensitive? You''d think a woman covered in scales would have thicker skin. Damn! Did she smell that thought too?

    We plod on the carpet in the entryway, dust rising with each step. The locked double doors to our left lead to the courtyard, while two large staircases curve on opposite sides of the room, meeting on the second story landing. Rich red carpet eaten by moths covers large sections of the floor. The grand ceiling curves upwards, swooping out of sight, the wooden rafters barely visible from the first floor. Kamapua''a''s bedroom is probably on the second story, which is where he''ll be hiding...whatever it is we''re looking for. Wikolia mounts the staircase on the left and I take the one on the right. The steps groan under my weight. I''m really starting to dislike this house.

    Suddenly, I''m thrown from the staircase, wood splintering under me. I fly through the air, slamming into the opposite wall. The impact caves in the weak wood. I groan and pull myself out of the hole in the wall. I think my spine is bruised, if that''s even possible. I gingerly rub my neck and shoulders. There''s a painful click every time my shoulders rotate. A large man towers above me, rushing in my direction. I guess he''s the one that did this to me. His tattooed fist is nearly the size of my skull, and it comes crashing down like a comet toward my head.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    I roll out of the way, slicing at one of his calves with my kusarigama. The blade barely pierces the scarred, tattooed, skin. Tattoos ripple across his body when he turns, a wall of muscle rushing towards me. Curly black hair streams out behind him like a mane while I backpedal. I''m having to work overtime to dodge his unrelenting attacks. There''s a sharp crack from behind. He roars, turning to face his attacker. Wikolia stands, whips at the ready, slowly circling him like a predator would prey.

    "Get out of my house!" He roars, leaping forward, oblivious to Wikolia''s attacks, slamming his fists down. She barely has time to slide out of the way, coming up beside me.

    "Kamapua''a?" I ask, looking at the giant man.

    "Kamapua''a," The Wyvern confirms. How can her voice be so calm at a time like this?

    "Any weaknesses?" We roll separate ways as he comes after us again. I sling my weapon out, blade leaving crisscrossing red marks across his body. They just look like scratches. Wikolia cracks her whips, bladed strands slashing his body, but to no avail. Neither of us are doing any damage. Does nothing faze this guy?

    "None known!" She shouts back. Fantastic. I leap back onto the one remaining staircase when Kamapua''a slings a broken wooden beam in my direction. I smear blood down my arm as I wipe dust off the cuts covering me; I don''t like the direction this is going.

    Kamapua''a turns his attention to Wikolia, badgering the Wyvern with an onslaught of attacks. Before I can think, I''m rushing across the room, pumping my legs for all they''re worth. I tackle her around the waist in time for us both to avoid the boar god''s charge. He slams into the double doors, breaking them off their hinges, nearly destroying the whole wall. I yank Wikolia to her feet, my eyes flicking around the room.

    "Now we''re even," I say. She remains silent. A real professional, this one.

    The boar god turns with a growl, shaking wood and plaster out of his long hair.

    "Just leave me alone!" He shouts. Sorry pal, can''t do that. He rushes towards us and I push Wikolia out of the way, wrapping the chain around his wrist. Kamapua''a roars, turning to me. The Wyvern slashes him across the face with her whips to draw his attention. I take a running leap, slinging the blade of my kusarigama up. It sinks into the wooden rafters. I scamper to the top of the beam in a moment and pick up a large hornet''s nest, slinging it towards Kamapua''a; it''s enough.

    He turns to me, small black eyes searching in the rafters. He looks down at the chain around his wrist and grins, his teeth resembling large yellow tombstones. Time to improvise. I race down the wooden rafter, my boots nearly slipping off. I continue running even when I stumble. I wrap the chain around the rafter, sucking in dust with each breath. With a mighty heave, Kamapua''a yanks it down. The chain snaps taught, and the beam splits with a crack. It comes crashing towards his face; just as planned. Well, technically, improvised.

    The beam hits him square in the face. I leap off the wood as it splinters; another close call. The boar god stumbles backward and Wikolia slings her whips around his ankles. Dust shoots up as his heavy body hits the ground. I aim my kusarigama towards his throat. I just want to get what we came for.

    Kamapua''a''s body ripples, changing in less than a second. The whips fly off his ankles, as my weapon bounces uselessly off his chest. While he stands his body becomes covered in thick bristles of hair, and he now has...well, there''s no polite way to put this. He has the head of a boar. It''s kind of an improvement.

    He rushes at us, tusks and fists flying in our direction. Despite our nimble and swift dodges, he''s beginning to corner the Wyvern and I. He''s a man with nothing to lose, nothing to hold him back.  We can''t beat him. Wikolia yanks me in her direction to avoid having me crushed under the fury of Kamapua''a''s fists. I push her behind me, turning to the boar god.

    "Stop!"

 Chapter 7.3: Mercy

    Wikolia yanks me in her direction to avoid having me crushed under the fury of Kamapua''a''s fists. I push her behind me, turning to the boar god.

    "Stop!" I hold up my hand, the diamond ring flashing in the light. Out of the corner of my eye, Wikolia searches her pockets incredulously. I''m a thief, remember? Amazingly, Kamapua''a stops, beady black eyes narrowing.

    "Where did you get that?" he rumbles. Have you ever seen words come out of a pig''s mouth? I''d recommend not trying it. It''s a disturbing sight.

    "We recovered it," I reply, sweat dripping down my body. Please don''t just kill us and take the ring. "I think it belongs to you." His eyes roam over the two of us in the corner, and after a tense moment, his body slumps. He reaches forward, taking the small ring in his large hand. Before our eyes he shrinks back to normal size. Well, normal for him.

    "Thank you," He whispers. His voice sounds like the earth itself is moving. This was the type of man to move islands for love. "I haven''t seen this in..." He lets out a loud breath, "In a long time."  He takes a seat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. "Why are you here, young ones?"

    "We were sent by Marinette," Wikolia says, stepping up beside me. Kamapua''a''s face hardens, his hand closing around the ring.

    "I see," He looks down, face covered in shadow. "In that case¡ª"

    "How long have you been like this?" I interrupt. We just stopped fighting, let''s not do that again. Mostly because we''d lose.

    "Been like what?"

    "This," I say, gesturing to his unkempt state. All he wears is a pair of ripped shorts. Food and dirt stains cover his body; they nearly obscure as his tattoos. "How long have you felt broken inside?"If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "How did you¡ª"

    "She rejected you," I say softly, taking a step forward. "She found someone she thought was better, and she left you here, to be forgotten. But you don''t hate her, do you?" I crouch before him. His eyes search my face. I know what he wants. "You can''t hate her, because you belong to her. You always will. When will you let yourself rest?" Kamapua''a takes a breath, chest shuddering. Small dots of moisture run down his ruddy cheeks. I hold up a hand subtly behind me when Wikolia starts to move. I''ve got this.

    "It''s been so long," He chokes out, tears hitting the ring in his hand. On his left, a gold band gleams. I shake my head; this isn''t love.

    "Let me make it end," I say, putting one hand on his knee. "Rest, and let go. You deserve that much." To be so rejected, spurned, and still hopelessly in love...it''s not something he should be put through. It''s not something Pele deserves. His commitment and devotion are binding him; they''ll choke him if I don''t give him peace. If he can''t have love, he should have that, at least.

    "Please," He whispers. I nod, standing, gripping my kusarigama tightly.

    "This service isn''t free," I reply, setting my jaw.

    "Namonai!" Wikolia hisses, taking a step forward, but I hold up my hand. I''ve got this. Kamapua''a nods his head, taking another deep breath.

    "Upstairs is a large drill bit made of enchanted diamond. We..." His lips tremble and he sniffs. "We made it together. It''s what Marinette is after."

    "Thank you," I say softly. Before he can speak, I''ve stepped forward and jammed the tip of my kusarigama into his eye socket. He jerks but I hold his head to me until his body stills.

    "How could you?" Wikolia hisses. I drop Kamapua''a''s head and his large body slumps to the ground. "He gave us what we wanted!" I wipe my weapon on the boar god''s shorts. His body slowly begins to dissolve into black earth. I hook my kusarigama back on my belt while the Wyvern steps closer. "You didn''t need to kill him! He was broken!"

    "Go get the drill bit," I reply coolly.

    "What?"

    "Get the drill bit," I repeat, turning to her. "Now." The Wyvern''s face hardens; she''ll give in. Marinette hired her, and she has honor. She''ll complete the job. After a moment, she turns her back on me in disgust, mounting the stairs. I look at the pile of black earth, closing my eyes. Marinette and I are going to have a talk.

 Chapter 8.1: Tight Spaces

    Aberlocke opens the door on the second knock.

    "You again?" He sneers, peering down his nose at us, monocle glinting. I don''t reply, pushing past him. Wikolia follows suit behind me, leaving the butler gaping in the doorway. Was he looking forward to a response? I bet he was preparing for it all day.

    I adjust the diamond on my shoulder and stretch my neck. Thanks to the enchantments it''s not that heavy, but it''s still awkward to carry.

    The Wyvern hasn''t spoken a single word to me since we left Kamapua''a''s house. I don''t blame her. I honestly wouldn''t want to talk to me right now, either. My boots are loud and leave dirty stains with each step; she pads softly behind me. If you don''t listen for it, you can''t even hear her breathing. For the record, it''s slow and even; it doesn''t change when she''s dismembering foes.

    "Aberlocke, fetch me some wine. We''re having trouble at the mint again, and these damn bankers are like leeches." Midas says, nose buried in papers and reports. I set the diamond down on his large desk. He looks up and frowns, then goes back to skimming through his folders. "I don''t have time for you and whatever this is; Marinette is downstairs," He waves his hand and picks up another folder. I heave the diamond back up, my eyes narrowing behind my mask. I should run him through right now. What am I thinking? No. Just take a breath Namonai.

    I begin to walk away, but I hear him call out behind me, "Third door on your right, straight ahead!" I don''t know why Midas is being helpful. It makes me uneasy.

    I stop in front of the third door and take a deep breath. Come on Namonai, stick to your guns, you can do this. Stand up to her. Wikolia moves past me, opening the door abruptly and stepping into the room. With a whirl of white, Marinette throws several large sheets over a long steel table. My eyes flick from the gray hand hanging over the side of the table, to Marinette, to the bubbling beakers and vials behind her.

    "You got it!" Marinette exclaims, eyes lighting up. Wikolia crosses her arms, leaning against the wall. Marinette takes a step forward and I drop the diamond at her feet. She looks up at me and frowns. "Did something happen?"

    "He killed Kamapua''a," Wikolia mutters from her corner. She crinkles her nose and taps her scales. Is this her being irritated? Marinette straightens, wrapping her cloak around herself tighter.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Ah," Marinette says, tapping her chin. "That is unfortunate. But now we have the drill bit. Next we''ll need the actual operating mechanism. Since the bit itself is humongous in size, we''ll need something of industrial strength. At the docks of¡ª"

    "No," Marinette''s eyes widen in surprise. One second later the shock is gone and she''s smiling, tilting her head at me.

    "Come now Namonai, surely we can¡ª"

    "No," I interrupt. I jam my hands into my pockets and round my shoulders. I shouldn''t have to do what I did to Kamapua''a again, it''s not my place. But who else will do it? That''s not my problem. It''s not...is it?

    "We''ll erase your debts, shower you with¡ª"

    "I''ve heard enough," I cut her off, turning my back.

    "Don''t you dare walk out that door, Namonai!" She screeches. The last time I did what you told me to do, Marinette, a good man died. I twist the knob and open the door, stepping out. That won''t happen again.

    ||||||||||

    The bustle of the city is a welcome distraction. Maybe it''ll free me from my thoughts. Yeah, right. And I''m the queen''s consort. These conversations with myself never stop, just like my mind. I guess it could be worse. I could be getting followed by a blindfolded reptilian assassin who radiates disapproval. Oh wait.

    Wikolia has practically been my shadow since I left Midas'' mansion. She still isn''t talking to me, but at least she''s doing me a favor and not hovering just out of my eyesight. That would drive me crazy.

    "Stop!" I turn to make sure nobody''s speaking to me. It''s not uncommon; I''m a popular guy. Sometimes. Not really.

    We''re on the border between the industrial section of Malor, the Bellows, and the Jungle. Right between the lower middle class, and the low class, of which yours truly is a proud member. "I said stop!" Who is that?

    "Just shut your trap!" I hear shouted in the distance. I follow the voices, quickening my pace. As I get closer, I hear the tell-tale sounds of a scuffle. Wikolia continues to follow me, as usual. A young boy is pressed against the wall of a crumbling building. A large man is holding him there. The man''s bearded face is pressed what must be uncomfortably close to the boy. In the alley, to their left, a pool of blood slowly spreads from underneath a woman.

    "Let me go!"

    "Not after what you did, boy." The man hisses, his hands tugging at the boy''s clothes.

    "Why don''t you help him?" I whisper in the Wyvern''s direction. "You saw this long before I did. Why didn''t you do anything?"

    "He''ll get what''s coming to him in the Underworld," Wikolia hisses, perched atop a lamp post. "They always do."

    "He could get what''s coming to him now," I retort. Her tongue flicks out and she turns in my direction.

    "Now, later. What does it matter? He will be punished either way," She says. Her whips remain still by her side.

    "By saving others you punish and become a hero," I reason. Wikolia''s nostrils flair. She drops down next to me.

    "A hero? Is that how you see yourself?" She asks, stepping closer.

    "Of a sort," I reply. I''m not a hero, but the people can think what they will.

    "Then you save him," She says.

 Chapter 8.2: Tight Spaces

    "Then you save him," She says. She extends her whips out around a pipe and slings herself to a roof, disappearing in a matter of seconds. I sigh, twitching my fingers. Am I doing this to be recognized? Or because it''s the right thing to do? Am I even a good person? I don''t think I am. If I was, I wouldn''t be doing these jobs. But I did reject Marinette. What am I?

    "Someone help!" The boy cries out, struggling against the man. I cover the distance between us in a few steps, grabbing the man by his thinning hair and slamming it against the crumbling brick.

    The man drops the boy and crumples to the ground. Before I can move, the boy has grabbed a fallen brick and straddled the man. He sets his thin body on the man''s heaving chest, slamming the brick onto his nose. Next, his forehead. Nobody gives him a second glance on the street as he slams the brick down again, tears running down his cheeks. He doesn''t stop until there''s a gooey red pulp where the attacker''s face was.

    "Feel better?" I ask. The boy jumps and throws a brick at me, taking off down the streets. I sling the chain of my kusarigama around his waist and yank him back to me. He struggles in my grip and I push him into the alley. He trips over the dead woman, backpedaling away from me. His eyes are wide, looking all over me. "Did you kill that woman?" I ask. He doesn''t answer, feeling on the ground for something to throw at me. I''m not that scary, am I? Right, the mask. I still look like an agent of Inari. I take the mask off, tucking it underneath my arm. "I''m not one of them," I say with a smile, bandages crinkling and stretching across my face.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    "Are you going to hurt me?" He asks. We stand at the same time.

    "Depends," I say. I run my finger over my mask, keeping an eye on the street while I talk. "Are you going to do to me what you did to that woman?"

    "It was self-defense," He says, looking down at the woman. His face clouds over when he looks at her. "She deserved it," He spits. How old is this kid, fourteen? Fifteen? That''s pretty cold for a kid. Color me impressed.

    "How''d you do it?" I ask, stepping over the woman. The boy''s eyes flick from the woman''s gory eye sockets to a bloody shoe heel. With her own shoe? Damn. I reach out to the boy''s curtain of dark hair. He flinches but I''m quicker, whisking the hair away for a brief moment, revealing a leather eye patch. No wonder he went straight for the eye.

    "Don''t touch me," The boy snaps, baring his teeth. The stones on this kid. I step back, raising my hands.

    "Fine. What''s your name?"

    "Ghelly," He says warily, eyes darting around me, searching the alley. Still looking for an escape route, eh? Smart.

    "Well, Ghelly, you have two choices. Either," I lean against the wall, eyes flicking around. No sign of the Wyvern. "You get picked up by the authorities. Or," I smile, my kusarigama chain rattling. "You come with me, get yourself a bed and a hot meal. It''s up to you."

    "I think I''ll take my chances, thanks." He takes a cautious step forward and his stomach growls. I tilt my head at him.

    "Did I mention we just got a new cook?" Ghelly sighs. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then looks at me.

    "Fine," he says. Though, he doesn''t sound too enthusiastic

    "Good. Clean their pockets and follow me," I say. I slip my mask on and step out of the alley. I''m probably not a hero, but I could be worse. Probably.

 Chapter 8.3: Tight Spaces

    "Who''s this little tyke?" Baerus asks, moving forward to ruffle Ghelly''s hair.

    "I wouldn''t call me ''little'', dwarf," Ghelly retorts. Baerus takes a step back. The weapon smith chortles, retracting his hand.

    "Fair enough. So, why''d you bring a brat?" Ghelly bristles; I should step in now.

    "He needs a weapon. A good one," I hand Baerus some gold from my pouch, and all the money Ghelly took from the dead couple. "Fix him up, eh?" Baerus'' eyes shine, reflecting the gold.

    "Anything for a well-paying customer," He says with a wink. The shop''s doorbell tinkles while Baerus pulls out his box.

    "Oh good, you''ve already got the box out. That''ll make this easier," I turn at the sound of the voice.

    "Akath," Baerus says brightly, reaching for a mace on his countertop. "I didn''t know you''d stop by."

    "Where''s my money, dwarf?" Akath steps further into the shop, amber eyes examining me before moving on. His dark snake tattoos stick out on his terra-cotta brown skin, moving with every step he takes further into the shop.

    "Why does everyone call me a dwarf? I''ve never even met one," Baerus grumbles.

    "I''m done playing games!" Akath shouts. The snakes on his head pop with his veins, his arms trembling from gripping the counter so hard. This isn''t going to end well.

    "Take it easy, Akath," I say. He''s between me and Ghelly, who''s trying to shrink into the shelves.

    "Do I know you?" He snaps. Ouch.

    "My name''s Namonai. Listen," I hold my hands up, keeping my eyes on Akath. "There are kids here. Let''s just calm down." Akath takes notice of Ghelly for the first time, eyes drifting to the pouch of gold in his hand.

    "We can start collecting what you owe me with this," He says, reaching for Ghelly, who promptly bites his finger. "Shit! You little¡ª" Preemptive strike it is. I slice the snake in half as it peels off his skin, turning from tattoo to serpent in the blink of an eye. I plant my boot on Akath''s chest, sending him flying across the shop.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Let''s not be hasty here," I say, keeping the chain of my kusarigama still. I don''t want to damage Baerus'' shop. He''d take it out of my next purchase. Akath hurls a snake at me, using several as whips. Fangs and scales surround me as I scamper around the shop, slicing and dodging. The floor is covered in hissing serpents that snap like mouse traps. Each one I slice ends up back on his skin, reappearing a moment later. The shop bell tinkles again; Akath is quick to react.

    "Leave!" Akath shouts, sending a snake flying toward the door; it becomes ash before it hits the floor.

    "Akath, I''m disappointed." The snakes disappear and Akath gulps. I know that voice...

    "Mr. Khalil I¡ª"

    "Namonai, is that you?" I slowly turn. A rotund man stands in the doorway wearing a large fur coat. His desert sand skin is flushed underneath his large trapper hat. He grips a cane in both hands, gloves creaking as he squeezes and releases. He''s wearing more layers of clothes than most people even own.

    "Khalil," I say cautiously with a respectful nod.

    "Long time no see, my friend," He says with a gleaming smile, stepping into the shop. "Now, Akath¡ª"

    "I didn''t mean nothin'' by it Mr. Khalil!" Akath pleads. He doesn''t look like he knows where he should put his hands.

    "Did you just interrupt me, young man?" Khalil asks, his voice deathly quiet.

    "No, Mr. Khalil." Akath assures.

    "So, you''re calling me a liar, then?"

    "I-well, I...please, sir?" Akath''s lower lip trembles. Khalil steps closer, smiling the whole while.

    "Did you know I knew Namonai here? We were great friends once. Then one day," He turns to me, shaking his head. "He did something very bad. Similar to what you just did, Akath. So," He takes off one of his gloves, gripping his jeweled cane tighter. "I burned him. However, his face was already covered in burns, so I had to put one on his neck. People won''t look at your neck though, Akath. No," He takes a step toward the trembling thug. "They''ll look at your arm." His hand bursts into flame and he lunges forward, grabbing Akath on the bicep. He screams, the smell of burning flesh filling the office. I wince, backing away from the open flames. That''s a pain I''ve experienced firsthand all too well.

    Khalil releases him, pointing his cane to the door. Akath exits the shop with haste. "So sorry for the inconvenience, Baerus." Khalil says with a smile, slipping his glove back on.

    "No problem, Mr. Khalil!" Baerus says, dropping his mace. "Is there anything I can get you, sir?"

    "Just a conversation with Namonai here," He replies, clapping one hand on my shoulder. My knees nearly give out under the weight. He smiles, pulling me close to his bulk. "Let''s talk outside."

 Chapter 9.1: Luz Oscura

    "How have you been, Namonai?" I remain silent, leaned against the cold walls of Baerus'' store. Khalil tuts, shaking his head. "Come, now. That''s no way to treat an old friend." I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment; it''s probably not a good idea to test Khalil. He''s a patient djinn, but even the great renegade Ifrit, Khalil, has his limits.

    "I''ve been working day and night, as usual," I reply. My eyes scan his face. I''ve never been able to read him; and this time yields the same results as before. He''s always smiling¡ªwhen he brings you a drink, when he takes your fingers, when he blesses your marriage. He''s just a happy guy. Mostly.

    "For Midas and Marinette, correct?"

    I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off, "Word gets around, my friend. That''s actually why I came to visit you."

    "Aw, I thought you just wanted to see your old pal." Khalil''s grip tightens on the jeweled top of his cane. I keep my arms by my side, hands loose. The rest of my body is tighter than a coiled spring. He laughs, and the tension dissolves out of the air instantly.

    "Any excuse to visit you," he says. The djinn claps me on the shoulder and my knees buckle. "But, I''ve come for a favor." I raise an eyebrow behind the mask.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    "A favor for the great Khalil?"

    "More like a deal, actually," My heart sinks; damn. More jobs for people I don''t really like. But if it pays well, I''ll do it. I always do, don''t I?

    "Lay it on me," I say with a sigh.

    "Report to me what Midas and Marinette have you do," My eyes widen and I suck in a breath. What? Khalil nods with understanding, like a father asking his child to do something difficult. "I know, it''s scary. They''re powerful, I realize this. But have you forgotten who I am?" He spreads his arms wide, displaying his bulk with pride. I remain silent; my flame-licked skin knows just how powerful he is. But that''s not the point here. It''s never just one deal with Khalil. There''s always more.

    He leans forward, his shadow completely swallowing my body. His face is the epitome of friendly concern. Oh, he''s good. "I hear Naiomi has been having trouble with her landlord, Benson, I believe is his name. In exchange for your continuous information," He licks his lips, "I would be happy to have a...discussion with Benson about the treatment of his associates."

    My eyes roam over Khalil. Despite everything, he''s never lied to me, not once. And I know he has connections, which, for the record, are far better than mine. Mine consist of the rats in the sewer and the homeless in the streets. They don''t exactly associate with high rollers like Benson. This could be the break I''ve been looking for. I can repay Naiomi and stop relying on Midas and Marinette for all my money. Talk about taking care of two birds with one stone. With any luck, Khalil and my employers will tear each other apart. I extend my hand; I need to make this work.

    "Deal." Is my final answer. Khalil''s grin grows even wider as he shakes my hand vigorously.

    "Deal."

 Chapter 9.2: Luz Oscura

    "Keep that close," I warn. Ghelly turns to me, tucking the sheathed sword he bought closer to his side. "It''s a nice piece. People will, ironically, kill for a great weapon."

    "I know," Ghelly retorts. He rubs his thumb over the leather wrapped handle, "I''m not an idiot."

    "I never said¡ªit doesn''t matter," I shake my head. In one day, the little brat got a weapon that could cleave my cheap ass kusarigama in two. And Khalil showing up? I don''t need any bad news.

    "Honey, I''m hoooome!" I call out when I enter the Burnt Rice Tavern.

    "No!" What did I just say about bad news? I turn to Naiomi. Her glare alternates from me to Ghelly; this kid is holding up under Naiomi''s icy stare remarkably well. I knew he was a keeper.

    "Naiomi¡ª"

    "I said no, Namonai. I''m not taking in strays. You brought me an inventor and a warrior, fine. But," She motions for me to get out of the doorway while a few early patrons trickle in. "I''m not taking in helpless strays who can''t contribute." Ghelly bristles beside me, but I put a hand on his shoulder.

    "You''re right, Naiomi," I say, holding up a hand in placation. Ghelly opens his mouth but I continue before his tongue makes us holier than a priest on Sabbath from Naiomi''s arrows. "Sorry." Naiomi nods and turns to her patrons with a customary greeting: stonewalled silence and a tilt of the head toward the bar.

    "So, that''s it?" Ghelly hisses. "You promised me a bed and a hot meal."

    "Don''t worry," I whisper. I fight down my irritation; this kid really pushes my buttons. Who does he think he is anyway? No, Namonai, come on. You''re turning over a new leaf here. Heroes don''t murder children. No matter how annoying they may be. I look Ghelly in the eye. "I''ve got a plan."

    ||||||||||

    I step out of the shower, shaking dark hair out of my eyes. The noise of the street filters in from the open window as I turn to the small mirror on the rickety wooden table. Thankfully, it''s fogged over, but I don''t need it. I know the ritual by memory.

    I rub the handcrafted balm over my skin. It took me forever to get this stuff, and let me tell you, manticores do not play fair. Deadened fingertips go over every ridge and imperfection on my skin. I barely feel it, but I know it''s cold.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Next comes the paste, carefully mixed to get close to my skin color. I rub it on top of the balm, the two products mixing together on top of the burns and scars. When coupled with clothes, bandages, and a mask, I look downright normal. Well, normal for Malor.

    I hold my breath, pausing halfway through putting on my shirt. Someone''s here. I whirl quickly, bandages tight on my face, and sling a small razor at the open street window. I rush forward and grab the intruder. They quickly wriggle like an eel and slip out of my grasp. I duck back to avoid a swipe of their claws. Claws?

    "Wikolia?" I ask to the darkness.

    "Who else?" That little...

    "Why in the seven hells are you here?" I question. I pull my shirt on and stumble around her, lighting a lamp by my bedside. She stands close to the doorway, arms stiff by her side. She remains silent and I slip my mask on. "Hoping to catch me in the shower?"

    "Please," The Wyvern says, her nostrils flaring slightly.

    "Is that you begging?" I say with a grin. She turns, walking towards the window. "Wait!" I hop in her direction with one boot on. "You never answered my question." Wikolia stops halfway through climbing out the small window. How did she even fit through there?

    "Why did you do it?" She asks softly. I sigh, slipping my second boot on.

    "Kamapua''a?" I take her silence as confirmation. "It''s very difficult to kill Immortals. Even the weakest of them can''t properly die. The strong simply heal from the most grievous of wounds. Others, like Kamapua''a, will regenerate their bodies and return, well-rested." Wikolia flicks out her tongue and turns to me, her hands clasped together.

    "But why?" She asks taking a step forward. I finish lacing my boots and stand.

    "He wanted to die," I reply, shrugging on a brown leather coat, "someone had to do it. Now," I turn to her and cross my arms, "why are you here?" The Wyvern shifts her weight from foot to foot, grasping her hands together tightly.

    "I just arrived in the city. I did that job for money," She says quietly. "I didn''t have anything to use for food."

    "Answer the question, Miss Wyvern," I say. I need to speed this along if I want to keep my promise to Ghelly. She mutters, and I tilt my head in her direction. "I''m sorry, I didn''t quite catch that."

    "I said that I don''t have anywhere else to go." Wikolia seems to shrink in on herself as she speaks. What kind of joke is this? I decide to be nice to one kid, and now everyone needs my help? Just my luck. I shake my head, putting my hands on my hips. Fine. Fine. I''ll do it. Don''t say I never did anything for anyone.

    "Take the bed," I say, pointing to my thin mattress, "I''m going out, so make sure to close the window and lock the door. And for the record," I turn to her, but she''s already curled up on my mattress, snoring. She must have been going non-stop since she arrived in Malor. The mattress creaks under my weight when I sit. I take her whips and put them in her arms. She hugs them tight to her body, her tail wrapping around her waist. "For the record, I heard you the first time." I  whisper, patting her scaly body. I''m sure this isn''t the last time I''ll have a woman in my bed who wants to kill me. Then again, maybe, just maybe, the Wyvern doesn''t want me dead. That''d be nice.

 Chapter 9.3: Luz Oscura

    Naiomi takes a step back, shaking her head. I sigh and take a step away from the patrons jostling for a spot to get into Luz Oscura.

    "I''m not going in there," She says, adamant as ever. Can''t she make anything easy? Gods, woman. A little cooperation goes a long way.

    "Oh, come on, girl," I protest. "I even wore my good jacket. It''s my social one. You need a night off. We locked the tavern up tight and nobody''s gonna break in there. Plus, they love you here."

    "That''s the problem," Naiomi says. "I''ll say it again: no, Namonai."

    "Pleeeaaase?"

    "No." I rarely beg, it''s humiliating. And degrading. Other people beg around me, though. That''s actually a very interesting story¡ªfocus Namonai. I''ll do anything to get her in that club. I lift my mask and it only takes a second for her shoulders to slump. "Fine," the Kitsune reluctantly agrees through her teeth. "But I''m not staying longer than an hour. One hour, Namonai," She holds up one index finger, "No more."

    I slip my mask back down with a smile and grab her by her hand, elbowing my way through the line. Someone tries to grab me and pull me back. I snarl in their direction. They retract their hand, and I continue forcing my way through the crowd. Everything needs to go perfect tonight; I won''t let anybody ruin it.

    "Hey Namonai!" The bouncer greets us with a big smile. "Long time no see, man."

    "Same," I respond with a nod. He ushers us into the crowded club. Naiomi''s ears twitch at the influx of volume. At least it isn''t crowded; Naiomi doesn''t do well in crowds. Or around people. Maybe this wasn''t a good idea...

    Luz Oscura is the perfect mix of sleazy and classy. It''s not the most popular club in Malor, but it''s the best outside of Westend. It''s the kind of place where nobody will remember your face tomorrow, but will give you a night that you won''t forget.

    "Namonai! Naiomi!" A small man weaves through the crowd towards us. He''s garbed in colorful, billowing silks. The rings and piercings on his face jingle with every step. "It''s so good to see you!" He stands on his tip-toes just to make eye contact. Naiomi makes a face when he kisses both her cheeks. He turns to me, and just pats me on the shoulder. What, no kiss for me?

    "Hey, Chin," I greet. "How''s business?"

    "Good! Good. It''s good!" He nods enthusiastically. His long, wavy, hair shakes with every movement. His skin almost looks like gold in the warm lights of the club. His eyes sparkle every time he looks at you. Chin is the perfect host.

    "I''m here to speak with Maxim¨®n, can you please get him?"

    "Sure!" Chin turns to the crowd. "Maxim¨®n, dear, Namonai is here!" He shouts over the music, but gets no response. I notice an elderly man by the stage, moving his arms and keeping his eyes closed. I''ve never seen a Muse in person. They create any sound they can imagine with just their minds. They''re a highly sought after commodity in Malor. "Let me grab him for you," Chin says with a smile. He calls Maxim¨®n''s name again, weaving his lithe body through the crowd.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "And while I talk to him, you can relax," I set Naiomi down in front of the stage. I swipe a drink from one of the platters being carried around the room and hand it to her.

    "I''m not sitting here or drinking anything," Naiomi says in her same strict tone. Maybe that''s just her normal voice? It can be a bit difficult to tell. I back away when she tries to hand me the drink back. You''re going to have fun tonight, Naiomi, whether you want it or not.

    "Loosen up," I grin underneath my mask, "You can''t leave now, the show is about to start," I reply as the velvet curtains on the stage slowly draw open. The music shifts in tone while the lights focus on stage. A young dancer slowly steps out on stage, clad only in a few pieces of leather, a dark mask, and black feathers accessorizing everything. The dance turns tantalizing while the music croons to the ears, beckoning you to the stage. I look down to see Naiomi''s eyes glued to the dancer. She downs her glass and grabs another without looking away. Perfect. "You like the dance?" She doesn''t even look at me.

    "It''s...okay." She swallows hard, following the lead dancer as others file out. The lead''s eyes follow me while I walk towards Chin, who is jumping and waving at me. I give the thumbs up to the dancer. Ghelly cleans up nice.

    "Nice to see you again," Maxim¨®n greets. His voice rolls out like the smoothest scotch. Even indoors, he wears black glasses. The tawny Immortal doesn''t make a move when Chin drapes several colorful garlands and beads around his spotless vest and tie. He looks at the small host, who simply beams up at him.

    "I''ll leave you two to chat." Chin gives Maxim¨®n a peck on the cheek before disappearing into the crowd once more.

    "You''re a lucky man," I compliment. He takes a seat on one of the plush bar stools and I do the same. He orders for me, rings of tattoos circling his fingers. Designs arch down his exposed skin. I wonder if Chin follows them with his lips...Snap out of it Namonai! I accept the drink and take a sip. Oh, that''s good.

    "I know," He replies with a smirk. Maxim¨®n runs a hand back through his slick hair. After sipping his own drink, he turns to me, the crisp folds of his suit pants rustling. "I''m afraid your boy is more popular than I expected." I frown and set the glass down.

    "We had a deal, Maxim¨®n," My tone is stern, but I don''t think he''s taking me seriously. I can be stern! Sometimes. Hey, be nice; he has all the cards, remember? Play nice tonight. "I bring Naiomi, make you a nice profit with Ghelly, and then you turn him back over to me. Naiomi sees how great a dancer he is, and brings him to the tavern. That was the deal." Maxim¨®n sips his drink again.

    "Deals change my friend."

    "I thought you were a saint," I grumble. He smirks and stands. Several shadowy figures move in and out of a room behind the bar. They all have patches of a white fist above a broken red crown on their shoulders. Ah hell Maxim¨®n, what have you got caught up in this time?

    "Only to some."

    "What about to those who help you and your..." I look at the men and women behind the bar, "friends?" The Immortal turns back to me, leaning on the counter.

    "I''m listening." His voice is barely a whisper.

    "You need something done, right? I''ll get it done."

    "And in return you want your boy back?" He asks. I smile behind my mask. Not so fast Maxim¨®n, I''m not conned that easily.

    "And the Muse." Maxim¨®n frowns, leaning back.

    "You want Baer?" He looks to the elderly musician next to the stage, uncertain. "Chin likes him. The old man can''t hear a thing, but, still. A happy man means a happy land," He says gesturing to the club.

    "Something important then," I bargain. Maxim¨®n sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He''ll take the deal. Sure, I''m not professional, nice, or clean. Or tolerable. But I get my job done every time.

    "You screw this up, and even I can''t save you," He warns. I wave my hand dismissively.

    "Since when has that stopped me?" Maxim¨®n grins, nodding.

    "Alright. Go down to the docks. Your contact will fill you in on the details." I look to Naiomi, who''s officially sloshed.

    "What about her?"

    "Chin will see that Naiomi, Baer, and your boy are safe. No harm will come to them in the club." I nod, downing the last of my drink. Maybe the crisp sea air will do me some good.

 Chapter 10.1: Half Mast

    The air has a bit of a nip to it near the docks. I wrap my coat tighter around me; I should''ve known I''d end up doing another job sooner or later. Why did I even bother to wear my social jacket tonight? Fortunately, it''s just past the hottest part of the year, right before the leaves start to change. Unless you''re near the cliffs at night, it''s not too bad.

    The waves lap gently against the old wooden docks as the boats shift back and forth in the soft breeze. Wood creaks and masts ripple around me; I can''t help but shiver. Karha controls the area around the docks, and we didn''t part on the best of terms.

    I yank out my one remaining kusarigama¡ªI really need to get a new pair¡ªand spin to my left. Something is out there. I''m really getting tired of people sneaking up on me.

    From the shadows, a hooded figure slowly approaches. That''s probably the contact Maxim¨®n told me about. Or, with my luck, it''s an assassin. I grip my weapon tighter¡ªI''m not taking any chances.

    "Namonai, I presume?" The figure throws back their hood. A small woman smiles, her pointed nose twitching. Lady, just because you flash a very cute smile doesn''t mean I''m putting my weapon away.

    "And you are?"

    She reaches into her cloakm and I point my kusarigama at her. She holds up her hands, pulling out a folded piece of paper.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    "My name is Shi Xian," I cautiously snatch the paper from her hands. Finally, I get to be the one that does that! "But you can call me Xian. Maxim¨®n sent me." I scan the paper and slip it into my pocket. Everything seems to be in order: confirmation that Xian isn''t an assassin, insults at my character, subtle threats should I fail¡ªthe usual.

    "Nice to meet you, Xian," I say. I sheathe my weapon and shake her hand. "What will we be doing this fine evening?"

    "A bit of this and a bit of that," Xian replies with a shrug. That''s not very descriptive; I like it. She points to a small schooner tied to one of the docks, its small sail flapping weakly in the wind. "We''ll be taking that to intercept one of Tomrius and Finn''s ships. It''s transporting cargo Maxim¨®n and his partners are very interested in." Ah shit, it''s a suicide mission.

    I take a step closer to Xian, leaning in and whispering softly. "I, uh, don''t know if you noticed, but," I look doubtfully at the small ship, barely bigger than a rowboat, "That''s a very small boat. Tomrius and Finn own very big boats."

    Xian smiles. "I know."

    I sigh and shake my head. Okay, maybe it''s not so bad. Maybe there''s a bunch of Fae mages waiting to provide backup.

    "Where will the crew sit?" You need a crew to overthrow a ship.

    Xian''s smile grows even wider. "Just us."

    I crane my head back and let out a long breath. Do it for the boy, do it for Naiomi. Come on, Namonai. Just break onto a ship with one small woman in a boat that could be swamped by a medium-sized wave and get off without being spotted. With no backup. Easy.

    "Of course it is," I mutter.

    "What was that?"

    "Nothing!" I brush past Xian, ready to be done. "Let''s get this over with."

 Chapter 10.2: Half Mast

    I grip the sides of the small schooner harder, trying not to bite off my own tongue. Waves don''t feel dangerous until even the tiniest one could capsize you. I haven''t had to swim in years. Maybe it''s like riding a bike: you never forget. I hope so. Gods, I hope so.

    Xian successfully navigates us from the harbor through the low fog and occasional pocket of jagged rocks out to open waters. We''ve been sailing for a bit now. Nothing but clouds and grey skies for miles. Home is kind of...bleak, huh? No wonder they call the waters between the Kingdom and Malor the Cursed Sea. Give me some nice sunny beaches off the coast of Ismar Minor. I''d take those any day.

    Out of the fog, the outline of a large ship slides forward. It moves without a sound, and if I wasn''t looking straight at it, I wouldn''t believe it existed.

    "Is that it?" I ask Xian, pointing to the large vessel. She nods excitedly, nearly bouncing in her seat. "That''s a big boat." Xian turns to me. No, don''t do that! Eyes on the water!

    "Are you intimidated by big things?" she asks with a smile that shines in the darkness. I...honestly wasn''t expecting that. I like her.

    "I think I''d be downright terrified of myself if I was," I reply with a small grin.

    "Then this should be no problem." Xian steers us close to Tomrius and Finn''s ship quicker than I thought this little dingy could possibly go. Thanks to her reckless steering, we reach it in no time at all. She''s just lucky I didn''t have a heart attack. Xian pulls out a rope and ties us to the ship and pulls out a grappling hook. "You know how to use one of these?" she asks.

    "What¡ªyes, I know how to use one!" I snatch the spare grappling hook from her indignantly. "Who do you think I am?"

    "Just asking. It''s a long way down from the top." Xian winks at me, hurling her grappling hook and scampering up as soon as it finds purchase. It''s a good thing I''m not scared of heights. Or the ocean. But, that may change after today.

    Ascending the ship is a combination of climbing the ropes, holding onto some small wooden outcropping, and throwing the grappling hook to the next spot. And if you miss, boy does it suck. Not that I would miss, of course. Nope.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "Stealth is paramount." Xian reminds me at the top.

    "Then why are you tal¡ª"

    "Sh." Did she just shush me?

    "But you were the one¡ª"

    "Sh!" When we can talk again, you and I are having words, Miss Xian. She grips the ship rail tight for a moment and vaults onto the ship softly, slipping into the shadows. I follow her steps just as eloquently, thank you very much, keeping my breath steady while we wait.

    "What now?" I whisper. Her eyes flash with frustration in the darkness. Yes, I know you told me to be quiet, Miss Xian. But when have I ever done as I was told? She waits until a sailor lumbers by before responding.

    "We need to steal plans for a new weapon that Tomrius and Finn want developed here in Malor," she pauses when the door leading inside the ship opens. We slip inside just before it closes. The little pirate likes cutting it close, doesn''t she? "They''ll probably be in the captain''s quarters; they''re too valuable to be left in the cargo hold," she continues. I keep my voice soft while we creep down the corridors, holding onto the walls for support. I still don''t have my sea legs.

    "What''s the weapon?" I pull her into a small alcove as a group of drunken crew members stumble past. They pat each other on the back and take swigs of what is probably whiskey. Xian looks up at me; her heart is beating almost as fast as mine. How can such thin eyes look so big and full of life? She is very close. Too close. I sidle out of the alcove, and she follows me, quickly taking the lead.

    "They call it a ''cannon''," Xian whispers. "The main component is black powder. It''s a more volatile version of what''s used in Tempraran smoke bombs." She points to a plain wooden door. "Here, this should be the captain''s quarters." I kneel in front of the door and take out my lock picks while Xian keeps a lookout. Her head rotates almost like an owl. It''s kinda creepy.

    "I''ve been meaning to ask about that," I say past the spare tools I have between my teeth. "How does a little Tempraran like you end up in this line of work? I thought you guys were all monks."

    Xian pulls her dark hair back into a ponytail. "You obviously haven''t been abroad much."

    I snort, but don''t say anything. Oh sweetie, I''ve been to places you can''t even imagine. She doesn''t pay me much attention, like most people. One of the perks of being a rat like me: they''re pretty common in Malor, and don''t attract much notice. Even when they''re being rude on purpose¡ªwhich I''ve been told I do often.

    She continues while I work, "Temprarans are in a wide variety of fields. Our government doesn''t allow us to legally sail unless we''re Dream Catchers," she shakes her head, "It''s an outdated law, but they hold to their ''tradition''. So," she smiles down at me, "It was a pirate''s life for me from the start."

    "Not much of a pirate without a crew," I mumble. She stays silent until, finally, the lock clicks open. The door swings silently open. My eyes fix on the portly man sitting behind a desk, his purple skin reflecting the dim candlelight. He looks up, his blue eyes going nearly as wide as mine. Xian is shocked into stillness, and for a moment, we''re all frozen in place in nearly absolute silence. This isn''t going to end well.

 Chapter 10.3: Half Mast

    The door swings silently open. My eyes fix on the portly man sitting behind a desk, his purple skin reflecting the dim candlelight. He looks up, his blue eyes going nearly as wide as mine. Xian is shocked into stillness, and for a moment, we''re all frozen in place in nearly absolute silence. This isn''t going to end well.

    The captain stands so quick his chair flies backward. At the same moment Xian has pulled several throwing daggers out from places inside her cloak, and I''ve unsheathed my weapon. The portly man spins in our direction, and with a wave of his hands, the light is sucked from everywhere within eyesight. Ah, shit.

    I''m knocked back by a huge burst of energy, my back cracking against the wood. That hurt even more than when the security golem did it. Damn Fae mages. I hear Xian hit the wall beside me. I scramble to my feet, shaking.

    "What is he doing here?" I hiss. No response. I reach out for the Tempraran woman and she grasps my arm, feeling all over me. I grip her and feel her jawbone underneath my hands. As soon as my fingertips brush her lips, I realize that she''s speaking. I just can''t hear her.

    A large fist cracks me in the jaw, sending me stumbling. I lash out blindly, but hit nothing. What if I accidentally stab Xian? She probably won''t want to get drinks with me if I stab her. Something hits me in the ankle, and I barely stop myself from falling on my face. I''m yanked by my hair before I hit the ground and am thrown against the wall for a second time. This time, though, I hear it when my head slams against the rocking wood.

    "Night, night." The last thing I remember thinking before I''m beat to unconsciousness is: I hate magic.

    ||||||||||

    It''s a slow, painful, journey back to reality. At least last time this happened, I woke up on a couch. And this time? Shackled and chained to a wall. I''m just glad I''m not naked. Now that is an interesting story.

    "Thank the gods you''re awake."

    I turn my head and wince. Everything hurts. Xian is restrained just like I am. Behind her, against the wall, is a large wooden cabinet. That''s not good. I know a torture cabinet when I see one.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "What the hell was that?" I hiss.

    "That," she looks towards the door, "was the captain, apparently."

    "No, not that. I mean," I shake my shackles to no avail, "why was he in there? You made it sound like he would be gone."

    "It was a calculated risk," Xian argues. I shake my head and kick my legs, but get no leeway.

    "You should stick to piracy, because math isn''t your strong suit." I jiggle my legs, but don''t hear the familiar tinkling of my picks and tools. He took my tools? The bastard, the thorough bastard! "Calculated risk my ass."

    "I''m sorry. I messed up."

    "Damn right you messed up." Xian blinks hard, sniffing. We''re already going to die here, no need to make it worse. The door creaks open and we both turn our heads instantly.

    "Twelve knives, two smoke bombs, one..." He puts a bundle down and examines my kusarigama before tossing it onto a table. "Thing. Six unopened jars of turpentine." I turn to Xian, who doesn''t make eye contact.

    "You were going to burn the ship?" I whisper.

    "We were supposed to leave no trace," She whispers back, her thin eyes locked onto our captor.

    "I''m pretty sure the burning wreckage and charred corpses would be a giveaway," I hiss.

    "The young man is right," The captain says. Don''t agree with me, chubs. I don''t need that today. He sets down the jars. "As I was saying. Six jars of turpentine, and one set of thieves tools."

    "I prefer to think of it as a universal spare key," I say with a grin. He smiles and steps closer.

    "I can appreciate a good sense of humor," he replies.

    "Well then you''ll love me, pal." Without warning his meaty fist cracks me so hard in the jaw my mask clatters to the floor.

    "My name is Arboran," he says. "And you will speak when spoken to. Do you understand?"

    "Yes," Xian says. He looks at me and I nod.

    "Good," Arboran smiles. "Good. That will make this much easier." The captain unfurls the small blanket of Xian''s knives.

    "Don''t touch my stuff, you indigo buffoon!" she shouts. So much for speaking when spoken to. Arboran''s skin flushes and he rounds on her in an instant, pushing at the air with his hand. The chains rattle as Xian is pulled forward and then slammed back against the wall.

    "My skin is violet!" he screeches. Soft spot acquired.

    "Looks indigo to me," I say with a shrug. Arboran rounds on me.

    "Maybe a bit of magenta," Xian says while spitting up blood.

    "It is violet," The captain hisses, stepping towards me.

    "I just call ''em like I see ''em," I say defensively. He sucker punches me, forcing the breath from my lungs. I lunge forward and snap my teeth shut around the end of his nose. Arboran screams and slams both his palms on my chest and my whole body crumples like a ragdoll. He steps back, rubbing his bleeding nose.

    "You," he opens the cabinet, "are going to tell me what I want to know. Or you will face the consequences." Arboran turns to me with a wicked looking curved blade. "Who sent you to destroy my ship?" With tremendous effort, I pull myself up. I flick my eyes from his face to my hand and he does the same. I stick my middle finger up at him, the bandages stretching across my face as I grin. He sighs. "So be it."

 Chapter 11.1: The Brig

    "Namonai." That sounds like Esilea, but that doesn''t mean I''m moving. I turn over, covering my head with my hands. Just five more minutes, then I promise I''ll get up. I scrunch up tighter on the floor. "Namonai!" Not now. The cell doors rattle and my eyes crack open, my vision blurry for a brief moment. Fine, I''m up.

    "Finally." I sit up, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I have got to stop waking up in strange places. That was fun when it was with the silk caravans in Ismar. But in Malor? Not so much. It''s a dungeon every time.

    "Esilea?" I croak. Gods, I could use a drink. And I''m surrounded by undrinkable salt water. I groan and rub my eyes, but the tall warrior doesn''t disappear.

    "Who else?" Wheels creak behind her and Icarus rolls into view. He rubs a thin paste onto the lock and strikes a match.

    "You might want to stand back," he warns. I crab walk to the farthest corner of the cell. The paste smolders and explodes, sending small bits of metal, hay, and wood flying in all directions. I grip the bars and yank myself to my feet, struggling to stay upright. "It worked!" Icarus shouts with glee. Oh, that''s comforting.

    "How did you find me?" I rasp. I continue to use the bars to support myself, making my way gingerly over to the dynamic duo. Esilea jerks her thumb back to Wikolia. She''s standing alone against the wall flicking her tongue at me. I think that means she''s happy to see me.

    "Marinette came by the tavern," Icarus says. He holds his hand out and I give it a firm shake; gods, it''s good to see these two again. And the Wyvern, of course.

    "The Kitsune refused to come," Wikolia says softly. I shrug, leaning against the bars. They''ve just begun to cool off from the heat; it''s just what my sore muscles need.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Naiomi wouldn''t leave her bar undefended," I reason. I push myself up and the sudden movement makes me wince. Esilea steps forward, but I wave her off. The fact that she cares, though, is almost...nice. "Besides, I have all the help I need right here." I clap Esilea on her shoulder and wince again; she''s solid muscle. Note to self: refrain from touching Esilea when sore.

    "So, what''s the plan?" Icarus blinks up at me with those big eyes of his. Wait, what?

    "You don''t have a plan?" Everybody avoids eye contact with me; I think even the Wyvern is looking away. Esilea shuffles awkwardly.

    "We, uh, thought you would have one."

    "I was the prisoner! Why would I have the plan?" Nobody answers me, and I sigh. Children, I work with a bunch of children. "Fine, okay. Fine. We can do this. Wikolia, take Icarus to find the captain''s quarters. He has plans for cannons we need to steal."

    "Why does she need Icarus?" Esilea asks, keeping a tight hold on her young companion''s chair.

    "Because the captain is also a mage, and Icarus is the only one who can decipher any of that gibberish." Icarus frowns and yanks his chair free from Esilea''s grip.

    "I''ll go," he says, setting his jaw. That was easy. I lean forward, my bruised ribs threatening to crack.

    "Wikolia will grab the plans. You need to whip something up that will incapacitate the crew. Preferably," I use the handles on his wheelchair to stand, "something that won''t kill everybody in the process."

    "Since when do you care about killing others?" Wikolia asks while pushing off the wall. Didn''t I already go over this with her?

    "Since I don''t want one of the largest merchant companies in the world hunting me," I retort. There''s a moment of tense silence, and then the Wyvern nods. Good. She wheels Icarus out of the room. Esilea watches, her entire body rigid, eyes following them for as long as she can see. She turns to me, folding her arms across her chest.

    "I still don''t see why I couldn''t take him," she says. Oh don''t pout, it''s unbecoming.

    "Because I need that magic satchel of yours, and your combat experience to fight Arboran, the captain. When I took on the boar god with Wikolia, I was I lucky I wasn''t vivisected by those damn whips of hers. I need someone trained."

    "You fought a boar god?" I nod and she harrumphs. "I missed all the fun."

    "You''ll have plenty of fun. Now," I rip off a loose bandage from my face and bite down on it, speaking through my teeth, "Put my shoulder back in its socket, and let''s do this."

 Chapter 11.2: The Brig

    There were a few close calls on our way to the interrogation room, but somehow, we weren''t discovered. For what seems like the tenth time in as many minutes, I rotate my shoulder. I think after this, I''ll need a deep massage, and a break. No more interrogations for a while.

    While I stay crouched, Esilea stands on the other side of the door, satchel open and ready. She did a good job on my shoulder, I''ll say that. Hopefully, she can do just as good a job helping me defeat Arboran. I swing the sword she pulled out for me loosely, getting a feel for the thin handle. Out of all the weapons she''s encountered and stuffed in that magic bag, a kusarigama wasn''t one of them. Apparently she didn''t find it effective. Bitch, it''s about style.

    She holds up one hand and slowly counts down with her fingers. Three. Alright, we cleared the plan. This should be easy as long as we stick to the plan. Two. Let her take care of Arboran and I''ll free Xian. One. Then, all three of us kick his purple ass. Go.

    Esilea kicks the door down as she rolls a couple smoke bombs in. I dive over them as the smoke comes up, tossing Arboran across the room. I hear Esilea rush in, but I turn my attention to the still restrained pirate.

    Loud battle noises erupt from behind me, the warrior and mage each fighting fiercely for their lives. Twenty seconds before the smoke dissipates and I become susceptible to his magic again. I think he needs to see his opponents. Work quick here, Namonai.

    I take the lock-picks that Esilea gave me and get to work on Xian''s handcuffs. She opens her mouth, but I shush her with a look. One wrist snaps free¡ªfifteen seconds.

    "Damn you!" Arboran screeches. A whirlwind of sparks and energy begin to build, the indigo mage the epicenter of their power. A second later, Esilea crashes into a wall behind me. I hang onto Xian to keep the both of us from being blown away by the outburst. As soon as it dissipates, I''m back to work, the next shackle popping free. Nine seconds.

    I can faintly see Esilea through the dissipating smoke. She lets out a fierce battle cry as she charges toward Arboran at full speed. Xian''s left ankle pops free, but the smoke''s beginning to clear faster than I anticipated. Esilea is blasted against the wall once more and rolls out of the way to avoid the next attack. Sweat drenches my palms, the lock-picks fidgeting in the last shackle. Three seconds.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    "Namonai, look out!" I turn in time to see Arboran pressing his hands out against me. Xian''s right ankle pops free, and she leaps over the attack. I go flat on the ground, the blast of concussive energy passing between us. The lithe pirate unsheathes a dagger from her boot and swipes at the captain. Arboran looks at the three of us and waves both of his hands, muttering under his breath. Oh no you don''t!

    As my vision goes black, I take a running leap at the chubby mage. I collide with his bulk and am blasted back by a field of energy, but it''s enough. Esilea smacks him with a shield and rolls out of the way while I stand. She pulls a bow out of her satchel, sending an arrow through his ankle. He collapses onto one knee, grunting in pain. Chains rattle and wrap around his neck, the tall warrior yanking him back. Xian lets out a loud scream, leaping atop him mid-air, slicing at his arms while he covers his face. When Arboran finally hits the ground, he''s covered in dozens of small cuts, gaping up at us like a fish out of water.

    Xian bares her teeth at him in a savage smile, dagger pressed at his throat. "You lose, you indigo bastard." The veins in Arboran''s face pop, but he can do nothing to correct her. She turns to me and rushes in my direction, wrapping me in a hug. Ouch! Ribs! I pry her off of me, wincing.

    "I''m not the one who saved your ass," I say, nodding at Esilea. She''s sheathing her weapons in her satchel when the little pirate latches onto her with a hug, nearly knocking her over. Esilea raises an eyebrow at me, looking down questionably at the pirate turned koala on her chest. I shrug, and after a moment, the warrior hesitantly returns the hug. Esilea gently sets the little woman down on the ground and looks at the large mage, still immobile on the ground.

    "What about him?" She cracks her knuckles ominously.

    "He won''t be a problem. I incapacitated him with the poison on my knife, courtesy of my employer. She used it to take down a Godkiller once. This buffoon," she kicks him in the side, "should be no problem. It''s a watered down version with an antidote, but it should hold for some time." Esilea inches closer, looking closely at the blade.

    "Is there anywhere I can get some of that?"

    Xian''s face lights up. "Sure! And it comes in lots of different colors too!"

    "Really?"

    "Uh huh. I like it with a bit of yellow, gives the blade a nice shiny edge to it. Like a dragon fang."

    "Does it come in green?"

    I clear my throat, and they spin to me, startled. "If you''re quite done," I say. Xian blushes and Esilea just grins, winking at the pirate.

 Chapter 11.3: The Brig

    "That was easy," Esilea says, brushing her hands off on her pants. Arboran sits bound and gagged in a corner on the deck of the ship. His crew is unconscious, bound in a circle with thick rope. "Good work on that sleeping drought." she says, patting Icarus'' shoulders proudly. He seems to hardly notice the praise; the young inventor hasn''t taken his eyes off Arboran the whole time.

    "What about the crew?" he asks, his body tense.

    "I did have a plan," Xian reminds us, pulling out the jars of turpentine.

    "We are not burning these men and women alive," I argue. Xian frowns, but Icarus interrupts.

    "He''s right. There has to be another way." Icarus says, backing me up. Wikolia steps forward, her tail twitching.

    "If I may," everyone turns their attention to her, "we could cast a blood bond on the crew, binding them to one of us. It would ensure their permanent loyalty. It would not work on a mage, but it was used in the Underworld to press unwilling mortal souls into servitude." That''s...actually not a bad idea. The Wyvern just got even scarier.

    "And how do you know this?" Icarus asks, looking up at the reptilian assassin. The Wyvern brushes a bit of dark hair off her shoulder. How does a lizard have hair? And why haven''t I noticed that until now? Oh well, at least she doesn''t have a snout. Then, it would start to get weird. And my life is so damn weird already.

    "I had to do it many times when I was a Night Stalker."

    Everyone starts shouting and I hold up my hands to halt the drawing of weapons. "Who Wikolia was will be figured out later," I say firmly.

    "But a Night Stalker!" Icarus hisses. I nod, looking back at the assassin.

    "She definitely has some explaining to do. But only Night Stalkers and the most powerful mages can do this ritual. This is our only option, guys."This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "We still have the turpe¡ª"

    "No." Xian pouts and Esilea rubs her back sympathetically. I nod at Wikolia, who steps forward, cutting all the soldiers on their cheeks with her claws.

    "Who will these sailors be bound to?" Four pairs of eyes lock on me. I shake my head and groan. Oh no. I don''t even own a dog! I am not being bound by blood and magic to a crew of bloodthirsty merchant sailors.

    "Bind them to Esilea," I suggest.

    "What?"

    "She''s the soldier, and the strategist. She''s lead armies, after all."

    Esilea turns to me, frowning. "How did you know? I¡ª"

    I hold up my hand; don''t say too much my large warrior friend. Not everyone here needs to know all your secrets. "It''s just in the way you carry yourself," I respond, looking at her evenly. She nods slowly and turns to Wikolia.

    "Do it." The Wyvern looks at me, questioning, and I nod. Why does everybody keep looking at me? Wikolia rubs the blood on Esilea and begins to mutter about bonds, pacts, and sacred oaths. Plus a bit of creepy chanting. The usual ritual stuff.

    The lantern light flickers briefly, and then shines brightly once more. "It''s done," Wikolia says, retreating back behind everyone. We''ll definitely need to talk about her being a Night Stalker.

    "Great!" Xian claps her hands together and pulls a whistle out. She blows into it, but no sound comes out.

    "I think it''s broken," I suggest. The little pirate stands still, continuing to blow, looking out over the ocean. Out of the fog, a ship appears. Then another. And another. Dozens of ships with red sails slip out of nowhere, heading right for us.

    Xian turns to me, taking pleasure in seeing the dumbfounded look on my face. "What? Oh, you thought I didn''t have any backup?" she laughs, slapping her knees. She wipes a tear from her eyes and steps closer. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were capable." She pats my cheek and I hear Esilea growl from behind Icarus. "And you passed. Which means you all," she gestures to Wikolia, Esilea, and Icarus, "get to meet my employer. She''ll be especially interested in you." She winks at me.

    Xian walks to the stern as her fleet draws closer, her hips swaying in tight pants. I shake my head and take a deep breath. That little...

    "I found this in the mage''s room," Icarus says. He wheels up to me, handing over my mask.

    "Thanks," I say slipping it on. Oh, it''s good to have you back, my friend. Covering my face, shielding me from wandering eyes. Anonymity can''t be topped. I lean forward, lips next to Icarus'' ear. "You okay?"

    "I''m fine," he snaps.

    "You sure?"

    "I''m fine." He jerks his wheelchair away from me, rolling over to Esilea. I don''t know about that, but it''ll have to wait until later. I turn to the fleet of ships steering around us. First, we need to load this crew up. And then, we need to meet Xian''s employer. Maybe I can slip a hot bath in there somewhere.

 Chapter 12.1: The Last Brigade

    Xian swings aboard her ship and lands deftly on her toes on the opposite vessel. Yeah, no. I am not doing that. Not with a sprained ankle, bruised ribs and a sore...well, everything. I walk across the plank they throw down, my small group following me. Several more planks are laid down and members of Xian''s crew begin dragging Tomrius and Finn''s crew onto Xian''s ship.

    "So how did they find us?" I ask Xian, weaving through the bustling crew members.

    "I used the whistle to call a friend," she says with a smile. Across the deck I hear a series of rapid thuds, steadily growing closer and louder. Behind the wall of crew members sounds out a lot arooo! I hit the deck as a huge furry creature leaps over me, nearly tackling Xian.

    "What is that?" I shout standing up, only to see the beast licking Xian with a prickly tongue.

    "Markus!" the little pirate shouts gleefully, tangling her hands in his golden fur. The furry quadruped is nearly double her height. His large flat beaver tail slaps the deck so hard I worry it might break. "It''s so good to see you, boy," she says rubbing her cheek against his. His prickly tongue lolls out while he pants as his long claws scratch the wood, the webs between his toes glistening.

    "This is your...pet?" I ask. Esilea nearly knocks me over as she runs past.

    "He''s so cute!" The tall warrior shouts with glee. If an eight foot tall furry abomination is cute to you, sure. She turns excitedly to Xian. "May I?" Xian nods.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Esilea nearly leaps onto his furry body, tangling her hands in the soft fur. The large spines on his back prick up and he growls low, thumping his tale again.

    "He likes you," Xian says with a smirk.

    "Where did you get him?" Esilea asks while scratching deep under his fur; the thumping gets louder.

    "I found him in the islands of Ismar Minor. They have creatures you wouldn''t believe. He''s a pirate''s best friend. He can hold his breath forever, swim for eons, and he has this floating bladder that makes him a perfect raft. Plus, he likes fish, but loves the taste of humans." Xian scampers up to Markus. "Don''t you boy? Don''t you?"

    "Who''s a good maneater?" Esilea coos alongside Xian. For his part, Markus looks like he''s in heaven.

    "Speaking of which," Xian turns to me and eyes one of the crew members from Tomrius and Finn''s ship. "Would you mind?"

    "What? No," I say firmly. Sometimes, you have to put your foot down. Especially if a little psycho pirate wants to feed living sailors to a giant chimera. First it was burning alive, and now this? I like ''em crazy, but this might be a little much. Even for me.

    "Fine," Xian says with a sigh. "You just ruin all the fun." I sigh and shake my head. Who would''ve thought it, huh? Me, the responsible one.

    ||||||||||

    "You''re not coming with us?" Esilea asks. Xian turns to Markus, scratching his forelegs absently. C''mon lovebirds, kiss and say goodbye already.

    "I have some more work to do. But don''t worry, I''ll be back for you." Xian says with a wink. This time, it''s Esilea''s turn to blush. The pirate pulls one of the pins from her hair and hands it to Esilea. "If you ever need to get in touch with me, this will let me know. I had it enchanted by a rogue mage fleeing to Temprara." Icarus scowls, wheeling away. Xian leans in close to the warrior and whispers something, giving her a peck on the cheek. I can''t tell if Esilea is waving goodbye to the departing forms of Xian, or Markus. Maybe both. Probably both.

 Chapter 12.2: The Last Brigade

    Luz Oscura is deserted at this late hour; they have to sleep sometime. It will be a few hours before the early fall sun turns the sky gray, yet the twin moons have already descended. Icarus is still wheeling ahead of the group, and Esilea seems to be in her own world, twirling the pin in her fingers. I''m pretty sure Wikolia is still following us out of sight, but I''m not certain. She just kinda...does her own thing.

    Sure enough, she drops down by us once we reach the empty club. Icarus comes to a halt and spins in the same motion. He frowns up at Esilea, who seems oblivious to his attitude.

    "You need to get rid of that," he says. That gets her attention.

    "No!" she says, tucking it into her hair. Icarus'' frown deepens, and I lean against the wall of the club. I wish I had some popcorn; I love it when my team bickers. Are they my team though? Is this even a team? Serious things to think about.

    "The pirate said it was enchanted," Icarus retorts. "It could be a tracking device; we don''t know that woman! What if it explodes?" Esilea leans in, her eyes searching Icarus'' face.

    "What''s really going on here, little bun?" Icarus turns and pushes the door open, wheeling into the darkness. Esilea quickly follows him into the club''s dim light. I raise an eyebrow at Wikolia while we follow. Her tail twitches, but she says nothing. I think she''s nervous too. "Don''t walk away from me!"

    "I''m not walking," Icarus snaps, turning to her. Oooh, bad move there my warrior friend. "Or have you forgotten? You can''t trust mages or their work."

    "I know but¡ª" Icarus interrupts her with a raise of his hand.

    "Especially when we''re in our most vulnerable position," He leans forward and I see Chin slip into the corner of the room in my peripheral vision. I mouth the word popcorn to him, but he just shakes his head and shrugs. "We can''t afford these risks."This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "You can''t afford much these days." Icarus stops, remaining still in the soft light.

    "What was that?" Esilea steps closer, yanking his chair to face her. She puts her face close to his with a snarl.

    "I said," her muscles gleam as she grips the wood harder, "you can''t afford much, can you? Don''t think I haven''t noticed. So don''t," she stands tall, "pretend to be so high and mighty."

    "And whose fault is that?" Icarus tries to yank himself away, but the warrior doesn''t relent. "Whose fault is all of this?"

    "Certainly not mine!"

    "Of course not. When is anything your fault, Esilea?" The tall warrior steps back, shocked. I start to interrupt, but Icarus isn''t finished. "You barely do your job. When was the last time you protected me from anything? You can barely protect yourself. Or have you forgotten how we came to be in this situation, in the first place?" His words cut the tall warrior like daggers. She steps back, lower lip trembling.

    "I just thought¡ª"

    "I''m not paying you to think!" Icarus shouts. His words hang in the air, and he seems to see us watching for the first time. He blushes furiously, turning to see Chin staring at him, mouth agape.

    "That''s enough," I whisper, stepping forward. I put my hand on Esilea''s shoulder, looking up at her; she won''t meet my eyes. "We''re sorting through this. And you," I round on Icarus, "You, young man have some serious¡ª"

    "You''re paaaaayin'' her?" Naiomi interrupts and props herself up on the couch, her hair mussed and furry ears twitching. She can''t hide the slur in her voice. Or the dried drool on her face and clothes. I hope its drool. "I thought you guysh were," she hiccups, "were jusht an iiiitem."

    "He''s a child!" Esilea shouts at the drunk Kitsune. Before Naiomi can respond, I cover her mouth. I don''t move my hand even when she licks my palm, no matter how gross it is.

    "You two need to work this out. Now. Meanwhile, I," I cast a meaningful glance at Chin, "will have a meeting with Xian''s employer." Chin nods and scrambles out of the room. I turn to Wikolia, who stands almost at attention. I could get used to this. "The Wyvern will watch you and make sure everybody behaves." I cast a hard look at Icarus and Esilea, before slipping into Maxim¨®n''s office.

 Chapter 12.3: The Last Brigade

    I cast a hard look at Icarus and Esilea, before slipping into Maxim¨®n''s office.

    As soon as I leave, I hear them shouting again. Sorry Wikolia, but someone has to make sure Esilea doesn''t snap the inventor''s neck, and make sure Naiomi doesn''t do anything stupid. That''s something I never thought I''d say to myself.

    "Ah, Namonai. I see you completed your task." I turn to Maxim¨®n, who is sitting at his desk. His lamps flicker in the darkness, which cannot be good for his eyes. He gestures for me to take a seat.

    "I''m good, thanks." I say, holding up my hands. He shrugs and finishes signing a paper. In my experience, you can''t flee a room as quickly if you''re in a seat¡ªI tend to do a lot of fleeing.

    A loud crash sounds from outside, and Maxim¨®n raises his eyebrow. He turns to Chin with a small smile. "Would you mind keeping our guests entertained? And also get Baer and Ghelly ready to move back to Naiomi''s bar?" Chin beams, kissing Maxim¨®n''s forehead.

    "Oki! You sure you can handle this?" He gestures to the room. Wait, what is there to handle? Besides the money I might be receiving.

    "As long as you deal with that," Maxim¨®n waves to the club outside his door. Chin nods, and Maxim¨®n smacks the small man''s tight ass. Chin lets out a little yelp, carrying a pleased grin on his way out. The Immortal then turns his attention to me. There''s a different gleam in his eyes than just a moment before.

    "You don''t need to worry about that," I say, jerking my thumb outside. "I told the Wyvern to watch them, but I guess she took me literally. She kinda...does that," I look down at my boots, then up at the Immortal. "But she''ll take care of it."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    "Night stalkers tend to be literal." Is his only response.

    "How do you know that?" He adjusts his glasses and tie, pouring a drink.

    "Want one?" I shake my head and he shrugs, taking a sip. "I''m the main competition to Benson Wolf. You''ve heard of him, I presume?"

    "He''s Naiomi''s landlord," I respond.

    "Interesting," Maxim¨®n scribbles something down on a piece of paper. "I was told by Xian that you and your group should meet her employer." He sets a hair pin down on the desk. So they do work. "Which means they should probably be in here for this." The door opens and in wheels Icarus, followed by a disgruntled Esilea, and an expressionless Wikolia.

    "Anything else you need, sugar?" Chin asks. My eyes flick from the cuts on Icarus and Esilea''s cheeks, to the bruises and blood on Chin''s knuckles. Why are the small ones always the scariest?

    "This is perfect. Thank you."

    "Of course."

    "Hey," Chin stops closing the door and peeks his head back in at Maxim¨®n''s words. "Love you," The Immortal says with a smirk.

    "Love you too." Chin blows him a kiss and clicks the door shut.

    "I thought I told you to watch them," I whisper to Wikolia.

    "I''m wearing a blindfold," she responds, turning to me.

    "I know but...wait, you can''t see?" She shakes her head. What the...okay. Another question for another time.

    "Do you have to take me so literally?"

    "No," She straightens, turning her head to the wall behind Maxim¨®n. "It''s just more fun that way." Despite her neutral expression, I think I heard a smile in her voice.

    "Aw, that''s cute. You four are adorable." A woman slips out of the darkness behind Maxim¨®n''s desk, her skin nearly as dark as the shadows. She carries two single-hand swords on her hips underneath her blood red coat. "It''s a pleasure to meet you all," She grins, and walks around the Immortal''s desk, eyeing us all the while. "My name is Vioda, and I lead The Last Brigade."

 Chapter 13.1: Retribution

    I fold my arms across my chest and frown. I''m not so sure about this. It sounds simple. But when has anything been as simple as it sounds?

    "I''m going to need your answer," Vioda says. "Immediately." She shows her sharpened teeth with a predatory smile. "I''ve found it best not to refuse me."

    "I''d seriously consider her offer, Namonai," Maxim¨®n urges. Yeah, yeah; calm yourself, little god. Just because she''s got you wrapped around her finger doesn''t mean she''ll be pulling my strings. But...it is a lot of money. Well, a lot to me. Okay, it''s enough money. Enough money to even consider taking the job.

    "I say we do it."

    I turn to Icarus. "You don''t say that out loud!" I hiss to him. He shrugs, wheeling forward.

    "My name is Icarus, and it''s a pleasure to meet you Vioda," he says with a courteous smile, extending one hand. Vioda shakes it and returns his smile. I don''t like this one bit. "We would be happy to perform any job you ask of us."

    "Speak for yourself," Esilea grumbles, running a hand through her short hair. I look to Wikolia, who hasn''t moved this whole time. What a surprise.

    "How much was it again?" The Wyvern asks.

    "A medallion and a half, each," Vioda answers. She''s quite proud about that number, isn''t she?

    Wikolia flicks her tongue out at the resistance leader''s response, pausing for a moment. I''m really not sure if I want to do a job for the Last Brigade. I know I technically just did a job for them, but I didn''t know it. And sure, they''re doing some good things for the city, but you can''t just rebel against the monarchy without any consequences. Eventually, the queen will take notice of their little insurrection. If I help them, where would I be then? Dead. Probably dead. The queen doesn''t take traitors lightly.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "That''s about one month''s rent, yes?" Wikolia whispers to me. Naiomi gives me a discount on the rent; I''m just that charming. And also because I do what she says without complaint. Alright, some complaint.

    "Yeah, about. Why?" I answer.

    "We''ll do it," Wikolia says confidently. Shit. I''m dead now, so dead. Well, no point in making it a tie.

    "Yeah, I guess...I guess we''ll do it," I tell Vioda. She nods and hands Icarus a small scroll.

    "Be at that location tomorrow night. Don''t be late." Her expression switches from prideful to serious in an instant. "The consequences would be grave if you were to fail."

    Maxim¨®n leans forward. "I suggest you don''t fail," the tall Immortal advises.

    "Thanks, I got that," I say, tone dripping with sarcasm. Maxim¨®n''s eyes glint dangerously in the light at my words. Okay, time to go.

    "We''ll be there," Wikolia assures them while I yank the scroll from Icarus'' hands. You got us into this mess by agreeing off the bat, boy. You don''t get to hold the map.

    "And we''ll see ourselves out," I say with a small bow. It''s still courteous to bow, right? I can''t really curtsey. I tug on Esilea''s arm and she begrudgingly follows me out, the Wyvern in tow.

    "I''ll be right out guys," Icarus says from the office. He looks quickly at Vioda. "I have something I need to discuss privately." Hmm, suspicious indeed. Honestly, I don''t like him staying back, not one bit. Private meetings never go well for those outside of them. And I''ve been in a private meeting or two myself. I''ll just have to investigate after I get us all out of this alive.

    Esilea obviously isn''t happy about the situation, but I''ll have to handle her later. Right now, I have a bigger challenge: getting a drunk Kitsune home without anybody dying.

    I make my way over to the couch. She''s still passed out, empty bottles and glass littering the floor. I wrap one of her arms around my shoulders, pulling her up. "Come on, upsy daisy," I say, gently standing. Damn girl, you could afford to lose some weight.

    "Where..." Naiomi swallows a bit of vomit, "where are we gooooin''?" I sigh, helping her to the door, her feet dragging on the floor.

    "Home."

 Chapter 13.2: Retribution

    The Burnt Rice Tavern has barely come in sight, and yet, I feel like I''m already home. I don''t know whether it''s the smell of vomit, or the mystery reddish-brown stains on the brick, but I just feel safe.

    Ghelly and Baer the Muse are being driven by coach to the tavern, but won''t arrive until the morning. Apparently there were employee papers that needed to be taken in, but the banks and agencies aren''t open until the next day. Icarus has mostly kept to himself on the journey back¡ªhe apparently had a very interesting conversation with Vioda. Esilea is still sullen, and will need to be comforted as soon as possible. And Wikolia is...well, probably still following us.

    The door to the tavern slowly creaks open, and lights flare on to greet us. I immediately move to draw my kusarigama, and nearly drop Naiomi in the process, though she''s already on her feet. She hisses, her hands turning into large furry paws intermixed with scales, claws and spikes sticking out of every inch. Right, I forgot she shape shifts when she''s drunk. Oops.

    A single chair stands in the middle of the room, with a scarred woman seated there. She has a two handed claymore resting in her lap, looking very eager to use it. The blade is large and flat, easily large enough to sever limbs without a problem. I think I can feel Esilea drooling behind me.

    "Who the hell''re you?" Naiomi slurs out, gesturing to the dark-skinned woman.

    "Names Akugbe. Who the hell''re you?" The mysterious woman responds. Great, another smartass. I miss when I used to be the only one.

    "Owner and property¡ª"

    "Proprietor," Wikolia softly corrects, dropping down from the rafters. How in the seven hells? I swear, I never know what to expect anymore.

    "Owner and proprietor of this here establishment is who I am. Your turn Akuuuugbe," Naiomi spits, waving her hands at the intruder. One of her hands turns into a hissing serpent, and I resist the urge to chop it off. Old habits.

    "No need for hostilities." Marinette slowly walks down the stairs, sliding her hand down the railing. Not this bitch again.

    "Get the hell out," I growl, stepping forward. Akugbe immediately draws her sword, standing to her full height.

    "Come now, Namonai. Is that really wise?"

    "I said out." I point the blade of my weapon at her.

    Immediately, Akugbe moves her claymore in my direction. I sidestep the large blade and wrap the chain of my weapon around it, yanking it away from her. The intruder, grabs my chain with both hands; this isn''t good.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    She gives a mighty heave and I go flying towards her. She''s somehow picked up her weapon in that short time span, and the point gleams, ready to skewer me. I suddenly, I feel something collide with me, sending me crashing down.

    Wikolia quickly scrambles off me, swirling her whips in a pattern on the ground, ensnaring Akugbe''s feet. She throws her in the air as Esilea tosses a net from her bag, capturing the warrior in mid-air. I grab the other end of the net, wincing at the grinding of my shoulder, and yank it down with Esilea, trapping Akugbe. A small dart whistles from behind and Icarus tucks a blowgun away as Akugbe begins to slow. Finally, her eyes drift closed, and she settles on the ground.

    "Good teamwork, guys," I say breathlessly, clapping Wikolia and Esilea on their shoulders.

    "You''re buying a round of drinks as a reward," Esilea says. Fair enough.

    "Bravo," Marinette says, clapping slowly.

    "Why''d you have to go and ruin the moment?" I sigh. I grab my kusarigama and sheath it, looking at the alchemist. I should visit Baerus soon and grab a replacement second weapon. Or maybe save up all this money and buy a decent pair that won''t break. "What do you want, Marinette?"

    "To talk to Naiomi," she replies, smiling at the drunk Kitsune.

    "I don''t think that''s a good idea," I say, stepping towards them. Naiomi raises her hand, which turns back to normal.

    "It''s fine." She straightens herself, and picks out a bit of candlewax from her hair. "Please, step into my office," she says, gesturing upstairs. Marinette begins to ascend, and Naiomi follows behind, stumbling slightly.

    "What now?" Esilea asks, looking at the warrior.

    "Tie her up," Icarus says, wheeling past us. "And get some sleep." Esilea starts to follow him, but stops, moving to take care of Akugbe. Wikolia tugs on my shirt and I turn, my heart leaping into my throat.

    "You have got to stop doing that!" I say, clutching my chest. Oh gods, everything hurts. The Wyvern shuffles awkwardly, her tail swishing across the floor. "What is it?" I have a feeling I''m going to have to be nice again.

    "I...still don''t have an apartment. Or a bed." She''s part lizard, would a bit of hay in front of the fireplace be fine? No! Idiot! Hay and a pillow.

    I rub the sweat off on my pants. "You can take my bed again."

    "Are you sure?" she asks.

    "Yeah," I say looking up at the stairs. The murmur of soft voices trickle down from between the beams of wood. "I don''t plan on sleeping much tonight anyway."

    ||||||||||

    "Why are we doing this again?" Esilea looks the drab building over and frowns.

    "For money," Wikolia responds. She taps the one story building''s walls, and slips around the corner, tapping all the while.

    I rub my eyes and yawn, rotating my shoulder. Naiomi refused to tell me what her conversation with Marinette was about, even when I asked nicely. I spent most of the day sleeping, but I never did get the relaxing hot bath I wanted. I rotate my shoulder again, gingerly.

    "Are you sure you can do this?" Icarus asks, wheeling up.

    "When have I ever let you down?" I ask. I look down at him, but he''s too busy scanning our surroundings.

    "I''ve known you four days," he says, scratching his chin.

    "Still an impressive track record," I say with a shrug.

    "Give it time." He wheels past me, reading the scroll as he goes.

    We''re supposed to be here at sundown, and wait until the door opens. Then, all we have to do is protect the Last Brigade''s lead financial backer from a team of highly trained mercenaries most likely hired by Tomrius and Finn. Easy.

    At last, the door swings open and we enter the dim building.

 Chapter 13.3: Retribution

    At last, the door swings open and we enter the dim building. There''s only one hallway, and it''s made out of heavily reinforced steel. Probably. I''m not a metallurgist. Our footsteps echo down the metal halls until we reach a small metal door.

    "It''s locked," Esilea says after a couple of tugs.

    "Thank you, Captain Obvious," Icarus mutters.

    "What was that?"

    "The person we''re supposed to protect is obviously behind the door," Icarus says. Esilea frowns, but I shake my head slowly, and she lets it go.

    "You set the traps," I tell the young inventor. He nods and Esilea sets the bag down, letting him root through it, pulling out pieces.

    It feels like hours, waiting in that single hallway while Icarus sets up all manner of dangerous devices. We have no idea how many to expect, or how highly trained they''ll be. At least the building has vents, and it''s cool outside. Keeps it from being too stuffy.

    "One entrance, which doubles as the only exit. Very secure." I jump and spin, swinging my weapon. Wikolia deftly dodges it, leaning against a wall. After my heart stops pounding, I find my voice.

    "What did I say about sneaking up on me?" I demand, sheathing my weapon.

    "To not do it," The Wyvern casually responds.

    "Then why do you continue to do it?" She turns her head to me, almost like an owl.

    "How else do you expect me to make you jump like a frightened deer?" What...she...I can''t even right now.

    "How did you get past the traps?" Icarus demands, rolling furiously up to her.

    "Let''s just hope our enemies are clumsier than the Wyvern," I grumble.

    "Please," Wikolia says, flipping her braid over her shoulder.

    "Guys, listen." Esilea holds up a hand. We all stop as she reaches into her bag. She slowly pulls out a bow, nocking an arrow. "There." The arrow makes a soft hiss, whistling through the air. There''s a low thud, and then the sound of a body crumbling.

    "Nice shot," I congratulate her. An explosion follows my words, illuminating the hallway. And our innumerable assailants.

    Icarus'' traps take care of many of them, burning, maiming, or otherwise incapacitating them. We use the bodies as a growing wall, hacking and slashing at the reckless mercenaries. Obviously, they''re not the brightest bunch. They could''ve sealed the door and just waited us out. But a full on assault? Amateurs. Well, it''s definitely more interesting this way.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    My kusarigama weaves death through their ranks. I alternate between swinging it on the chain and gripping the wooden handle to sever and slice my way through their ranks. Wikolia''s whips strike with expert accuracy, riddling bodies with holes and cuts, dismembering several. Esilea switches rapidly from weapon to weapon, unpredictable and deadly.

    I dodge underneath a wild swing, gutting the woman dressed in dark leather armor. I grab her sword and pull my weapon out of her stomach, slitting her throat in the same motion. I use her sword to block the next attack, parrying and kicking him in the shins. I weave through his attacks, finally landing a blow on his heels. He crumples to the ground and I crack his skull against the narrow hall walls.

    A loud crash sounds out from behind the small metal door.

    "The vents!" Icarus shuts, rubbing a paste onto the door. "Take cover!" I grab a body and hold it over me right before the loud bang. Metal shrapnel flies down the hall, and Esilea is rushing in before the smoke even clears.

    "Go," Wikolia urges me, dispatching two more with her whips. "I''ve got this."

    I follow Esilea into the small room, and stop short beside her. A lone woman slices her last assailant across the throat, cleaning the thin blade on the corpse''s armor. She slips it back into her cane and shakes her thick brown curls out of her face. Her skin is the color of cattails swaying in the breeze, illuminated by the golden sun.

    She wipes dust off her long navy blue coat, seeming to notice us for the first time. "Oh, you''re the ones Vioda hired. Thanks for the help. Money''s in the corner." She brushes past us, her black boots splashing through the gore and the blood in the hall. Wikolia moves to the side to let her past. "We''ll be in touch!" She calls out, disappearing around the corner.

    Icarus rolls in, smile gleaming. "Do you know who that was?" Esilea is staring after her, mouth open. It''s a good thing I''m wearing a mask, because I''m making the same face. I''m not sure if that was rude, or badass. The young inventor continues without missing a beat. "That was Alarice Crusoe! We saved Alarice Crusoe!"

    I scoop the bag of money up, patting Icarus'' shoulder. "I don''t think she needed any saving there, buddy." She could obviously take care of herself, the room of corpses proves that much. She didn''t need us, so why were we hired? It feels like I''m in a game of cat and mouse. And I''m the cockroach in the middle.

    "That was impressive," Wikolia says, flicking the blood off her whips.

    "And so cool," Icarus says. He picks now to be a star struck boy when we need the analytical inventor? Teenagers.

    "That''s not what I said," Wikolia says, her snout twitching. I think I got it now¡ªthat means she''s aggravated. See? I''m getting the hang of it.

    "I don''t like this," Esilea says, casually stabbing a gasping mercenary in the chest with her spear. Have I really grown so used to death that I don''t even react anymore? Am I...jaded? I''ll figure it out later.

    "You and me both, sister," I say. The tall warrior and I fold our arms across our chest in the same movement. It''s good to know that someone here is being rational. I need that solid support right now.

    Alarice Crusoe is one of the richest citizens of Malor, and she''s backing the Light Brigade? This looks like it could turn into all-out war. And for some reason, the leader of the resistance put us right in the middle. What''s Vioda playing at?

 Chapter 14.1: The Toll

    "Hey," I click my floor safe shut at the sound of Naiomi''s voice. "You got a second?"

    "I have about a hundred and eighty of ''em before I gotta bounce," I reply. Naiomi steps through the doorway and closes the door behind her. She sits on the bed, tapping her knees.

    "How''re things going with your team?" Why does everyone keep calling them that? We''re just four people caught up in a twisting set of circumstances. I don''t even know if I like them yet. Except maybe Esilea. She''s pretty cool.

    "One hundred and fifty-six," I count, tapping my wrist. She frowns.

    "Now isn''t the time for your bullshit," she snaps. Now that''s the Naiomi I know. "There''s a job for you."

    "I can''t do anymore until I''m healed up. Should only take a couple days," I say. I pop my neck, and shudder with relief. There are so few things in life that feel so good. And joints popping? Gods, that is one of them.

    "You won''t need your body where you''re going." She folds her arms across her chest. Oh no. I don''t like the look in her eyes. Can''t she just let me rest? Apparently, it''s not in the cards. All I can do is take one job after the other. And you know what? I''m starting to get kinda sick of it.

    ||||||||||

    "You''re sure this ''Dream Realm'' even exists?" Icarus asks. I stop in my tracks and feel the wheels of his chair bump against my calves.

    "Have you been there?"

    "Well, no. But that''s why¡ª"

    "I have." I turn to him, pleased to see that Esilea doesn''t interfere. She''s been coddling the boy since they met, I''m sure. At least Ghelly''s got some mettle to him; I should''ve brought him on this mission. Hell, I shouldn''t have brought any of them. I don''t know why I offered to take them in the first place. "I''ve been there. So shut up, and let me do the talking here. Got it?"This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "You can''t talk to me that way," he says stubbornly, glaring up at me. "I started all of this. I got us together."

    "Lotta good that''s doing us," I spit.

    "You want to go back to the way it was before? Five days ago, you were nothing. Now, everyone wants this team."

    "Icarus¡ª" The young inventor interrupts his companion.

    "You don''t have a say here!" Esilea''s face sets like stone. She grabs the handles of his chair and pulls him back.

    "We''re going back," she says, wheeling him away.

    "Let go! You can''t take me!" He tries to resist, but she pins his hands with one of hers, and continues pushing. She remains calm all the while.

    I sigh and squat down against one of the crumbling buildings. If we''re a team, then I''m a prince. I look down at my scarred hands, the herbs and paste I smeared on to cover my burns. I haven''t been a prince in a long while.

    "Tough day, huh?" An old man takes a seat next to me. His hair is a stark white, and sticks up in every direction. It matches the lines on his aged face.

    "Yeah. You''re Baer, the Muse, right?" He keeps his eyes on where my lips would be the whole time I''m talking. I get the feeling that even though my face is behind the mask, he can see what''s underneath. He nods and shakes my hand. A bit of the paste comes off¡ªI had to apply it quick this morning¡ªand he just rubs it off on his patchy suit.

    "It''s never easy doing the right thing," he says, leaning back on his hands on the sidewalk. I watch the people in front of me, and he watches me.

    "I''m not trying to do the right thing. I''m just trying to survive." I grind my heel into the pavement. "It''s all anyone can do in this forsaken city."

    "Then why are you here?"

    "I haven''t got anywhere else to go. Malor is all I''ve known for so long" Baer shakes his head and laughs deep in his throat.

    "You seem like a man with family. I think you have other places you can be. You just don''t have anywhere else you want to go," I open my mouth, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "I may have lost my hearing, but I''m not blind. I can see behind the masks you wear. The way your heart beats, the smallest movements of your muscles; I can feel them. I know what your body is wanting and your brain is thinking." He stands, and I look up at him from the sidewalk.

    "And what is it that I want, wise old sage?" Every word is layered with sarcasm. Part of me hopes that it hurts him, just the tiniest bit.

    "Purpose." He looks down at me and then shakes his head slowly. "And probably to get the boy. He''s bound in the alley. Tsch¨¹ss!" I stare after the old man for a moment, straining to hear the song he''s humming above the din of people. I can feel it in my bones, even this far way. I watch him until his white hair has bobbed out of sight.

    Wait...what boy was he talking about?

 Chapter 14.2: The Toll

    Wait...what boy was he talking about? I groan when I stand, and check the alley. Ghelly is frantically struggling against the ropes around his wrists and ankles, moaning furiously into the cloth around his mouth. He sees me and wriggles faster, trying to inch towards me.

    I squat down and remove the cloth from his mouth. "That bastard!" he hisses, face flushed and sweating with exertion." I can''t help myself: I chuckle. "It''s not funny!" he shouts, but my laughter just gets louder. Maybe it''s not purpose I need: just a laugh. But it would be nice to know how I can fill the vast, aching, emptiness that consistently grows larger with every day and every thought. Ah, I''ll deal with that tomorrow.

    I''m able to cut Ghelly free in a few quick movements. He doesn''t stop swearing the whole time, even as he explains what happened. A child after my own heart.

    "Why did Baer leave you tied up?" Ghelly snatches his sword from the ground, buckling the naked blade to his worn belt.

    "Because he''s a crazy old coot!" I level my gaze so our eyes meet. He catches my eye and brushes himself off. "He caught me sneaking out, okay? He helped me, then he just knocked me out and tied me up! It still hurts," he mumbles, rubbing a lump on the back of his head tenderly.

    "Why were you sneaking out?" I ask, leading him out of the alley and into the throng of people.

    "I was tired of being cooped up in the tavern."

    "You''ve only been there one day!"

    "It felt like an eternity." He looks up at me and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I didn''t ask to be anxious, alright? I just...if I''m in one place too long I go stir crazy. I need to move. I need fresh air."

    "If you want ''fresh air'', you won''t find it in Malor," I pat him on the back and he stumbles a bit. It''s rare that I''m taller and stronger than someone; it''s kind of nice to have someone to boss around. Makes it more fun to look after the little brat. "But if you want to still hang with me, then breathe that smog in deep." Despite himself, Ghelly smiles. Sure, it''s full of crooked teeth and his breath smells like death, but it looks good on him.

    "Where are we going?"

    "Donyoku," I reply.

    "Where''s ''Donyoku''?" he asks.

    "Not a where, a who. Well," I scratch the back of my neck. "What is actually more accurate. He''s a Baku, one of the forgotten chimeras. He can get you to anywhere in the cosmos. For a price."

    "Is he nice?" Ghelly asks, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Most people in Malor aren''t nice, per say. Or mean. They''re a messy gray blob of shifting values and principles. Donyoku is no different. Still, Ghelly isn''t bursting with self-restraint. I don''t need him getting us both killed.

    "It''s probably best to let me do the talking," I say.

    ||||||||||Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Donyoku''s place is in a quiet part of Southway. Sailors and rogue members of Karha''s crew patrol the docks, dividing it from the Jungle. The only other Baku in Malor lives in Northridge. It''s probably a good thing they live on opposite sides of the city; I doubt they get along.

    I motion for Ghelly to come closer as I pound the heavy knocker on the door. "Whatever happens," I say, looking down at him. "Don''t say a word. Got it?"

    "I can watch my own mouth," he assures me.

    "Yeah, sure you can. But Donyoku has a way of getting under one''s skin. He can be¡ª"

    "Ah, Namonai!" The door bursts open with a whoosh of warm air that smells like wet dog. I refrain from wrinkling my nose, and partially block Ghelly''s body. It''s not that Donyoku is easily offended. He''s just vindictive.

    "Hello there, old friend." I say with a flourish of my arm. The large Baku looks down at me imperiously. His matted fur is damp, his eyes glowing.

    "''Old friend'', is it? Funny how you only call me that when you need something."

    "Hilarious," I say and dip my head slightly. "May we come in?" I ask without looking up.

    "And who is this little one?" he asks. I grab Ghelly by his long hair and yank his head down so he''s bowing like me.

    "Just a straggler I picked up. Pay no attention to him," I catch Ghelly''s eye out of the corner of mine. Please don''t say anything, please don''t say anything.

    "I am just fortunate Mr. Namonai found a lowly urchin like me," the boy murmurs, deepening his bow until his hair nearly touches the ground.

    "You may enter," the Baku says, raising one eyebrow. It would look hilarious if he wasn''t so dangerous.

    "I''m impressed," I whisper to Ghelly as I stand. He rights himself abruptly, flinging his dark locks back.

    "You so owe me," he replies, slipping into the small house.

    Donyoku leads us through his small home, his bulk brushing the hallways. Furred tiger paws pad softly on the wood so it doesn''t creak. His large scaled torso has rubbed paint off in several places, leaving smudges on the walls. An ox''s tail with a flame tip swings dangerously close to the antiques he has piled everywhere. The Baku turns his head back to us, beady eyes roaming over our bodies. Dangerous horns poke out of his forehead, resembling the tusks near his mouth. His elephant''s trunk curls and he frowns.

    "It''s been awhile since your last visit. It will be a tight squeeze with company." Donyoku is a rainbow of blue; all different shades and hues, ranging from sky to ocean. Every scale ripples and shimmers with his movements. He sits himself down heavily while Ghelly and I squeeze to take our place opposite him in the living room. The only decoration is a fire pit in the center, separating us from the Baku.

    I shake my head when he offers tea, but Ghelly eagerly takes a cup. "Naiomi sent me," I say before Donyoku has a chance to ask. The less chance he has to speak, the better. "After the great and magnanimous alchemist, Marinette, graced us with her presence, she decided to leave us with a task."

    "So, she''s a bitch?" Donyoku questions.

    "That accurately describes Marinette," I answer, which prompts a chortle from the misshapen chimera. "She''s looking for a power source."

    "And you need help finding it," the Baku says with a contemptuous smile.

    "I know exactly where it is," I say. He frowns, sipping at his tea. "It''s in the Dream Realm." A large grin spreads across his face. He knows exactly what I need.

    "Well, you know the price, Namonai. With that, I will happily guide you there." I sigh and slap my thighs. I always hate this part.

    "Alright. Ghelly, wait outside." He''s about to protest, but Donyoku speaks up first.

    "No, the boy will stay." I stop and look at him, narrowing my eyes. "In return, you will pick the memory this time." Maybe I should bring Ghelly along more often; I never get to pick the memory. "As long as it''s good," he adds. Of course. I slowly nod my assent.

    "What''s happening?" Ghelly asks as Donyoku leans his trunk across the fire pit.

    "He''s about to bring out one of my worst memories and make me relive it," I say as casually as I can, sweat dripping down my arms. Gods I hate this part. "Don''t worry, you''ll get to watch."

    Donyoku''s trunk touches my forehead. I have an instant, a mere second, to decide which one I need to give him. I frantically pull a memory from my mind, and it shines like a projection over the fire pit.

    I keep my eyes closed, watching the same scene as Ghelly, every feeling as vivid as the day I was there.

 Chapter 14.3: The Toll

    Donyoku''s trunk touches my forehead. I have an instant, a mere second, to decide which one I need to give him. I frantically pull a memory from my mind, and it shines like a projection over the fire pit.

    I keep my eyes closed, watching the same scene as Ghelly, every feeling as vivid as the day I was there.

    ||||||||||

    I slipped past the trees near the laundry building, listening to the murmuring voices intently. It was early morning, but I was always up before the sun. My haori flapped as I ran across the wet dew covering the yard, my kosode loose around my body. I circled to the doors of the building, peeking through the crack.

    It smelled of many blossoms, as it always did. It reminded my father of my mother, of whom I was told many stories. She was the blossom princess, and my father wanted to feel like she was always with him, even in her absence. My burns itched, as they always did before a storm.

    Hoderi and Hoori always told me not to be sneaking around like a child, though we were triplets, and they were every bit of a child as I was. I leaned in closer to catch the servant''s gossip.

    "Remarkable, isn''t he?"

    "Oh, Hosuseri? I know!" I beamed in pride at the mention of my name.

    "Isn''t he courageous? If I were him, I would have slit my wrists by now." My smile fell.

    "It''s a shame he didn''t die in the fire. A waste to lose one of Amaterasu''s great-grandchildren, to be sure. But it would''ve been preferable to the toll it has taken on his father and mother."

    "We''re just lucky that his brothers are such prodigies. I don''t know how the master does it, dealing with the boy''s mistakes." My hands trembled at my sides, and my breathing was erratic. How could they say these things? I didn''t ask for this.

    "Slitting his wrists would be so drastic. Drowning would be the way. So peaceful." One of them snorted.

    "Can you imagine the irony? Born in fire, death in water."

    "Sounds like a prophecy."

    "There are no prophecies about nameless gods. His father has already denied him a place. Despite his love for the boy, he knows in his heart Hosuseri will never be heir to the throne."

    I put too much of my weight on the door, and stumbled in the room. Three servants stopped folding laundry, looking at me in shock. The two men gripped the clothes harder, while the woman quickly put on a smile.

    "Hello there, my little lord! What are you doing here?" I glared at her, and I could see in her eyes she was afraid of my childish face. Covered in burns and scars, twisted in anger, and red with embarrassment. She made a sign on herself to warn off demons.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Was that what I was? How they saw me? Just a disfigured oni, a bane to family and subjects alike?

    "Why would you say that?" I whispered, coming closer. "I haven''t done anything to you. Why would you say that?" The men stood closer together, their faces becoming still.

    "There was no harm in it, my lord. Idle gossip," the woman tried to explain.

    "You wished me dead! Don''t think I can''t hear!" I choked back tears, my throat burning. "I know what you whisper at night. I hear it in the halls and your hearts. I know what you truly think of me."

    "We would never¡ª" Anger boiled over at that moment, and I felt my skin heat up like fire. Every movement of my body, every beat of my heart, filled me with poisonous rage. How could a child feel like this? Think of such unspeakable things? Only a demon would feel this way.

    "Don''t lie to me!" I snarled, stepping forward. The woman looked down in shock at the small blade protruding from her stomach. I took a stumbling step back, the blade grasped firmly in my shaking hand.

    What... what did I just do? No, no! I didn''t mean to! It wasn''t me, I swear!

    "We have no choice," one man whispered to the other. They both nodded. They rushed towards me and I dropped the dagger, tumbling backwards.

    "Stop!" They looked up, appearing confused. It was easy to see why: it looked like two identical boys stood there, though with different armaments. One held a drawn bow, and the other a weighted net.

    "Oh little brother, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Hoderi asked, squatting down next to me. I was younger by two minutes, perhaps; he never let me forget. He looked from the dead servant to Hoori, and sighed. "No witnesses, baby brother." Hoori nodded and released two arrows in succession, quick as lightning.

    The men stumbled back, dead, before I could gasp. "No!" I shouted, lunging forward. Hoderi grabbed and yanked me back by my hair. Hoori''s hands grabbed my shoulders and they wrestled me to my feet, tossing me toward the doors.

    "Come, brother. We must tell father," Hoori said, slinging his bow around his shoulder.

    "As usual, we''ll clean up your mess." Hoderi looked down at me. I would have understand if it was contempt, but it was nothing. A cold void. He and Hoori left. After I wiped my nose, I followed them, trying to wipe the blood off my hands.

    ||||||||||

    I suck in a deep breath and rock back, my vision swimming. The last moments of the memory fade like ethereal vapor from over the fire pit. Donyoku opens his eyes and licks his gray lips.

    "It has been some time since I have seen your first kill. I deem your tribute worthy," he says and dips his head. "I will be back momentarily to guide you to the Dream Realm." He shifts his bulk up and sways out of the room.

    Ghelly is speaking as soon as we hear rustling from one of the other rooms. "What was that? Was that you? I thought your name was Namonai? What happened? How did he do that? What¡ª" I cover his mouth with my hand to silence him. After a moment I remove it, pleased to see the paste has finally dried and didn''t come off on his lips; that would have been awkward. More awkward than him watching a surreal memory from my past? Hard to tell.

    "I can give you a few answers later. But you can''t tell anyone else about this, do you understand me?" Ghelly pauses for a moment, tapping the hilt of his sword.

    "So do I call you Hosuseri or Namonai?" he asks. Good question, young man.

    "Just what you''ve been calling me."

    Ghelly grins. "I don''t think you''ll like what I''ve been calling you behind your back." I sigh, shaking my head.

    "I''ve heard worse."

    Donyoku waltzes back into the room and sits down, setting incense alight. He looks from me to Ghelly, and then begins to murmur. It must be strange for Ghelly; this will be his first time. The practice is old and familiar to me, with the swirling smoke and low rumbling in Donyoku''s throat. His trunk and paws swaying in unison, our eyes drifting closed, weariness setting in. I will have to keep Ghelly right by my side in the Dream Realm. It''s not...it wouldn''t be...safe...I have to...by me...

 Chapter 15.1: Ultimatum

    I take a breath, my lungs heaving. I cough, spitting out globs of thick fluid. What''s going on...where am I? My fingers dig into dirt, the dark specks wedging themselves under my nails. The smell of fresh earth fills my nostrils. There''s no sound, no sight, nothing. Just dirt. I claw at the earth around me, thrashing, desperately trying to find any signs of life. Finally, finally, I hear a sound: my own scream.

    It shakes the earth; it penetrates my bones; it deafens me and kills me, yet it makes everything alright; it gives me sanity.

    My hand breaks through and my lungs greedily gulp the fresh air above. The earth tumbles off of me as I claw my way, stumbling out of the hole I was in. My legs shake and I lean against a nearby tree to steady myself as I try to stand. Where am I?

    The air is a hazy blue color, shifting between ethereal shades of grey and indigo. Gnarled trees twist into the heavens above; vines crawl over loose stone, and the dirt is as black as night. He did it, didn''t he? That Baku bastard actually did it. I''m in the Dream Realm. I''m actually here.

    I collapse against a tree, taking off my mask and running a hand through my hair. Now I just have to find the power source Naiomi told me about: an eternal flame or some shit. And Ghelly. I should probably get him before I leave. I slip my mask back on and stand, my body shaking. At least the injuries in my physical body don''t translate to my spiritual body here. Pretty convenient. But that doesn''t stop me from hating the Dream Realm. Forgotten spirits and aspirations trying to dig into your soul just puts me in a bad mood for some reason.

    Where is the little brat, though? Commonly when Donyoku takes you somewhere, everyone ends up together. Which means I''m supposed to be standing here beside Donyoku and Ghelly. Obviously, that''s not the case.

    I cup my hands around my mouth. "Ghelly!" I shout. But I get no response. "Ghelly!" I shout again; the result is the same as before. Like I expected that to actually work. I sigh and drop my hands to my kusarigama; I forget if these even work here.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    Something snarls behind me, and I turn in time to catch a glimpse of something translucent, green, and with claws. Everything''s a blur as it races toward me. Slobber flies out like pearls of neon as it leaps, baring its fangs. I yank out my kusarigama, shoving the blades into the belly of the creature. Apparently this is the kind of spirit beast where metal blades don''t hurt it. The creature lands on me, trying to sink its teeth into my flesh. I''m not that tasty, trust me.

    My body slams back into the earth and I grab the snapping jaws, grunting. This thing may look weightless, but it definitely has physical form; definitely heavier than I expected. My arms strain for a few seconds and I twist my body, rolling the creature off of me. I scamper back to a safe distance. My weapons sway from the belly of the creature¡ªdoesn''t look like it feels ''em. It looks like it''s ready to pounce again.

    The angry spirit lunges at me and I roll out of the way. I grab the chains of my kusarigama and sling the blades up, slicing off one of the tree branches. I drop my weapons and grip the branch like a club, cracking it against the creature''s skull. It hits the ground hard, leaving an impression in the dirt, but I don''t let up. When the branch breaks, I drop to my knees and continue plunging the broken pieces into the creature''s translucent skin. I don''t stop until the creature is still.

    "Damn," I pant, wiping the colorful blood off my skin. Who knows what that stuff will do? Note: only objects from the Dream Realm hurt these creatures. I cut another branch and take a seat on one of the rocks, sharpening the end of the wood with my kusarigama.

    "That was entertaining," I whirl at the sound of a new voice, pointing the sharpened end of my spear at the source. A small shadow slips back and forth, a bright red smile on its face, dripping like paint; like blood. Who can really tell?

    "Glad you were amused," I reply, my words packed full of sarcasm. Like I said, the Dream Realm just puts me in a bad mood. "Why didn''t you do anything to help?"

    "I can''t," the shadow says, gesturing to the vines around it. I squint, trying to see what he''s talking about. My eyes widen and I pull back quickly. The shadow creature is in an old cage with vines crawling over the bars. It''s practically a tree at this point¡ªthere''s little evidence the metal cage was even there."But if you were to let me out, I could easily¡ª"

    "Nope!" I turn my back on the phantom and start walking.

    "You didn''t even let me finish!"

    "In my experience, if something''s in a cage, it belongs there." I turn to the shadow and wave, flipping it off as I go. "Have a nice eternity, asshole." Like I said, this place puts me in a sour mood. What idiot would make friends with a shadow demon? You just leave them locked up, and move on. I mean, that''s just common sense.

 Chapter 15.2: Ultimatum

    Come on Ghelly, show yourself already! I scramble over another pile of rocks, searching frantically. I appear to be alone once again, but not everything here is as it seems. Like, the landscape looks peaceful, yeah? But actually, everything here just wants to kill you. I could''ve stayed in Malor for that. Though, back home I didn''t have flowers gnawing at my ankles. So that''s certainly...something

    I continue to creep across the rocks. In the distance, a cave comes into view. Even though I''m a good distance away, I can feel the hot breeze escaping its mouth. I was looking for an eternal heat source, right? So of course the power source is in a cave. In the sanctimonious wisdom of elder mages and guardians, they always put the dangerous thing in a cave or temple at the top of a mountain. Like, how difficult is it to have a box with a key, you know? Or a magical identity scanner? Then, you could just keep it in a safe room where nobody would ever find it, preferably in a room with some air conditioning. It''d save everybody a lot of pain and hassle.

    At this point, I''ve been searching for about a week, and I''m starting to smell. Well, actually, I reek. But I''m already used to it. The cuisine of the Dream Realm basically consists of unappetizing crunchy or squishy things you find after hours of searching. It''s never really worth it.

    My clothes are practically rags: torn in several places and covered in dirt. I think I''m developing that "crazed castaway" look.

    I stop, sipping from a flask I made out of the corpses of killer plants. I doubt Ghelly is still alive here. If I''m in this state, imagine what the Dream Realm has done to the poor kid. I should never have brought him! What was I thinking? An amateur like him wouldn''t last long in this place. Honestly, he should stay an amateur; he shouldn''t have to get used to things like this.

    My hands find purchase on the rocks of their own accord. I''ve been doing this for so long, I wonder if my muscles know how to do anything else¡ªeven if I tried. My heart races faster, blood pulsing like lava under my skin. As usual, I wasn''t thinking. I just decided to take the kid with me because I thought it''d be fun. When will I learn my jobs aren''t fun? They''re dangerous. I keep telling people I''m not an assassin, but who am I kidding? Assassination, thievery, coercion; it''s all my business. Doesn''t Ghelly deserve better than that? Growing up alone in Malor is hard enough. Yet here I am, dragging him along to some place even worse.

    Sure, maybe he wanted to come. My hand slips on the rock and I jam the butt of my spear into the loose rock behind me. I dig my toes in, my calves burning, and climb higher. Yeah, he seemed excited. But it''s kinda hard for a corpse to get excited, and that might be all that''s left of Ghelly. Of course, if I ever get back to Malor, Ghelly will look the same. He''ll just never wake up.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I lift my mask up and wipe the dust and moisture away from my eyes, sniffing. I''ll just watch him grow old, knowing he won''t come back. But I''ll hope. I''ll hope that one day, he''ll maybe open his eyes again. I''ll say, what if? What if I never brought him with me? What if I never picked him up off the street? What if...

    I shake my head. The only thing I can be sure about is: I''m not going back empty-handed. This journey needs to mean something, it has to. I''m getting this power source.

    My arms tremble as I pull myself up to the top of the mountain. The entrance of the cave is mere feet away. And...yep, as predicted. There''s a dragon guarding it.

    The giant lizard breathes deep during its sleep, small puffs of fire flying from its nostrils as its huge body ripples with every inhalation. Scales and muscles shimmer like a tidal wave when it exhales. I quietly creep around the dragon, holding my breath. I''m glad it stinks in here, or my scent might just wake it up. I gingerly step over the dragon''s serpentine tail, dipping into an alcove. I take the stone steps leading up and spot a tiny orange crystal on an altar. That''s what I came here for. That''s the reason Ghelly''s probably long dead.

    My eyes survey the room, scanning for traps. All clear. I scamper across the room and pluck the crystal from the altar. I race down the stairs and get to the mouth of the cave in record time. At times, I can put sprinters to shame¡ªlike when my life is in danger. Then I hear a growl. Shit.

    The dragon looks down at me, and...is it...smiling? An orange crystal, just like the one in my hand, glows brightly. It hangs from a metal chain around the dragon''s neck. There are two parts to the crystal? Or is this one just a decoy? Whoever was in charge of defending this eternal power source took their job very seriously. Smoke curls from the dragon''s nostrils, and it leans its head back. Time to go.

    I scamper down the rocks, barely avoiding a jet of flame. An ear-piercing screech shakes the sky, and partially deafens me. I race down the slippery slope of rocks and earth as fast as I can without tumbling. The dragon shakes its body above me, tracking me with amber eyes. My feet hit stable ground and I take off sprinting. I turn back to see the dragon take a leap out of the cave, and land with a thunderous boom at the base of the cliff. No fair!

    I dodge another jet of flame, weaving through the jungle. I take several sharp turns, but it doesn''t seem to matter; the dragon just crushes everything under its immense weight, gaining on me.

    Without thinking, I''ve retraced my steps to where I first woke up a week ago. The hole is still there. At least I have a grave ready. One of the dragon''s paws comes down to crush me like the hand of the gods. Maybe I deserve this. For putting Ghelly in danger, for sacrificing his life. For being willing to sacrifice the life of everyone I know to get the job done. Has it been worth it?

 Chapter 15.3: Ultimatum

    One of the dragon''s paws comes down to crush me like the hand of the gods. Maybe I deserve this. For putting Ghelly in danger, for sacrificing his life. For being willing to sacrifice the life of everyone I know to get the job done. Has it been worth it?

    Suddenly, I''m flipping through the air, wind rushing against the tattered remnants of my clothes. My bones slam into each other when I land, jarring every inch of my already sore body. My hands grip something furry and...wet?

    "Gods Namonai! Could you be any heavier?"

    "You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Donyoku!" I shout, clinging to him tight. I guess he saw me about to be crushed and rushed over, flipping me up into the air with his head. The dragon must have missed, and then I just landed on Donyoku''s back, riding him like a horse. A very twisted looking horse. He skids and turns, racing away from the dragon as fast as he can.

    "What am I, chopped liver?" I turn and see Ghelly riding Donyoku backwards, bow in his hand. His hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, his one good eye squinting in concentration.

    Donyoku leaps and I grab Ghelly around the waist to keep him from flying off. We land hard again and I jolt back, but the boy remains steady¡ªlooks like he''s done this a few times. He lets an arrow loose and it strikes a crevice between the dragon''s scales. The giant lizard roars, wings flapping to give it momentum.

    "I think you pissed it off," I shout over the whipping wind. I tangle my fingers tighter in Donyoku''s mane and grip Ghelly''s waist harder. I am not letting you go, kid.

    "Maybe if you''d ease up on your grip I could aim better," Ghelly hisses.

    "I almost lost you once! Not happening." He looks at me for a moment and smiles. I knew he''d enjoy himself here. Still, I should never have brought him. Maybe Baer was onto something when he tied him up. He certainly can''t get himself into trouble that way.

    "Why do you care?" he asks, turning back to the approaching dragon. We twist around a thick tree and make a sharp turn.

    "I dunno. Maybe it''s your infectious humor and quick wit," I reply sarcastically. I lean closer to one of Donyoku''s ears. "So, I don''t mean to rush you, but how long is it going to take to get back to Malor?" Donyoku leaps over a stream and avoids several snapping plants. I stab one with my spear and spit out the burning chlorophyll that sprays over us.

    "I can''t."

    "What?!"

    "Something," Donyoku skids again and the dragon slams into a mountain behind us, scampering and scrabbling against the ground to pick up the pace again. "Is keeping me here."

    "Perfect! Just," I savagely kick a small blue spirit that tries to jump onto us, "perfect!" What do we do now? Oh gods, oh gods! We''re going to die here! Shit! No, wait. Deep breath, Namonai. Figure this shit out. Figure it out. Come on. I lean closer to Donyoku while Ghelly shoots another arrow. "Can you still teleport?"

    "Short distances," the winded Baku gasps out.

    "Could you, say, teleport us into a cage?" I ask. Donyoku spares a glance back at me, his eyes wide and panicked.

    "What are you getting at, Namonai?" I crack my knuckles and neck.

    "Just get back to the clearing with the hole in the ground where we were earlier. Got it?"

    "Namonai, what¡ª"

    "Meet you there!" I jump off of Donyoku, yanking Ghelly with me. We hit the ground and I keep him close, rolling. I stand up and sling him over my shoulder, digging my heels in. Time to push it.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Ghelly shouts from my back, squirming in my grip.

    "Saving our asses!" I shout. "Stop squirming!" Donyoku races beside us. I pump my free arm, chest burning, legs trembling just to match his pace. It''s been awhile since I had to run this fast. Damn, I''m out of shape.

    "How is this possible?" The kid''s stopped squirming now¡ªgood.

    "Don''t question a god!" I snap. The Baku and I split around a tree, converging on the other side just in time. The dragon''s paw crushes the tree in its pursuit.

    "But you''re not¡ª"

    "You want me to drop you?" I shout. Ghelly doesn''t respond. That''s what I thought.

    The clearing is just up ahead, and I feel a momentary sense of elation at seeing the old rusted cage. It feels like the air is cutting my throat with tiny razors with every breath. My bones clank against each other like chipping away with every movement. I can feel the adrenaline burning a hole through my veins. I can''t keep this up much longer. I spot a patch of vines and dig in, reaching out and gripping Donyoku''s furry mane.

    "On...on...my mark!" I pant. I stumble and grab his fur. Donyoku growls and I catch myself. Gods I just want to die. I blink sweat out of my eyes, my mask sticking to my face while the leather straps dig into my skull. We get closer to the patch of vines, the dragon coming closer into view. I can feel the heat of the flames on my back, the deafening roars and screeches practically on top of us. "Now!" I shout.

    There''s a moment of intense pressure, and then the three of us are thrown onto the black earth. The dragon keeps rushing towards us, but when it tries to stomp the cage, nothing happens. It scratches and spews fire, but to no avail. The cage doesn''t just keep most things in, it also keeps them out.

    "Well, well, well," a raspy voice says. I slowly pick myself up off the ground. Sweat drips from every pore and dirt clings to me like a second skin. The shadow creature squats on the opposite side of the small cage, wearing that eternal painted smile. "It''s nice to see you again, asshole."

    Ghelly coughs beside me and the shadow''s head snaps in his direction. Without warning, he lunges at the boy. Donyoku roars, slamming his paw down on the shadow, trapping it.

    "Parasite!" he spits, tail flame growing hotter. "Life sucking whore! Leech!"

    "Nice to see you as well, Conductor Donyoku," the creature replies.

    "We need to leave. Now," the Baku says, looking around frantically. The shadow laughs. It sounds like rusty blades scraping against each other.

    "And how do you plan on doing that?" He asks, twisting his head towards me, and then to Ghelly. "Come closer, boy, and I''ll show you a way out."

    "Stay behind me," I say, stepping between the creature and Ghelly.

    "Aw, you don''t trust ol'' Mutovinatum? Smart move." Mutovinatum smiles, baring what looks like an endless row of sharp teeth.

    "Why are you here? You''re supposed to be with Death," Donyoku growls, snapping at Mutovinatum when he tries to squirm. The shadow sighs.

    "I am many, Donyoku. Parts of me are scattered all across the cosmos, and in every dimension. You can never get rid of me. You know this. Currently, the largest part of me is..." The red smile turns into a flat line for a brief moment, then picks back up. "On Earth. Earth, eh? How interesting. Is that where Eurael and Evermore ended up? Or...how long has it been, anyhow?" He twists his head towards me. "It''s so difficult to keep track of time when it has no meeting, eh, little god?" He chuckles again, struggling to no avail. "You can''t keep this up forever, Donyoku. This part of me is small, and weak. Eventually, Zargoth will destroy this cage, and everything inside of it. I will continue to exist in my other bodies." His voice turns sly, like the twisting of a thin dagger deeper into your ribs. "The same can''t be said for the rest of you."

    I sigh, rubbing my temples. How did I get myself into this? I swear this is the last job I do for Marinette. Ever.

    "What do you suggest we do?" Ghelly asks, stepping around me. Mutovinatum''s smile grows wider, stretching across his otherwise featureless blank face.

    "Let me out," he whispers, words twisting like a snake.

    "Yeah, no," I say, taking a step forward. "You''re in here for a reason, mate. And don''t think," I squat down in front of him. The dragon, Zargoth, slams against the cage harder, and I see a few bars buckle. "Don''t think I don''t know who you are, demon. You won''t get out of here that easy."

    "Well you must choose: let me out to deal with Zargoth, or do the noble thing and fight him yourself." The cage buckles further, a couple bars snapping and cracking. "But I don''t think the chances of you beat him are in your favor, little god."

    "What do we do, Namonai?" Ghelly asks.

    "Let me think."

    "We need to do something quick!"

    "I said let me think!" I snap, pacing.

    "Choose, little god! Choose! Choose!" Mutovinatum cackles, screeching his way into my thoughts, burrowing deeper with every word. "Pick your poison. Just don''t cry when it burns your throat. Let out the demon, or do the noble thing. Choose!" He cackles again, throwing off Donyoku. In a burst of energy, he pins me to the cage, Zargoth, coming closer. "Choose, little god."

 Chapter 16.1 Cry of Death

    "Choose, little god." Mutovinatum''s teeth clack in front of me. I gulp and motion to Donyoku with my head. Mutovinatum slinks back as I grip Donyoku''s mane. Ghelly holds onto the other side.

    "Are you sure about this?" Donyoku rumbles, looking at Mutovinatum. It disgusts me to let the shadow out, but sometimes stuff like this is necessary. But I can''t, I can''t, let him get back to Malor.

    "Not in the slightest," I say, forcing a grin. "Grab on," I tell Mutovinatum, who eagerly clutches onto Donyoku''s scaly body. After a moment of brief pressure, we''re on the outside of the cage. Mutovinatum immediately lets go, his grin growing wider; if that''s even possible.

    He flexes his limbs. "Oh, it feels so good to be free." Zargoth notices us out of the corner of his eye and turns to us. His dark scales glow with the fire smoldering inside, his claws digging into the black earth.

    "We let you out for a reason," I hiss to Mutovinatum. "Take care of it."

    "Watch your tone," the shadow snaps. He turns his attention to Zargoth. "Hey there big fella! You''ll do nicely."

    Mutovinatum slips into nothingness, sliding as a mere shadow across the ground. Despite Zargoth''s quick paws, he''s unable to hit the dark blob. Mutovinatum slithers up and spreads himself out over one of Zargoth''s limbs, squeezing like a constrictor. Zargoth opens his mouth and breaths a huge jet of flame. While his leg is unharmed, the shadow creature shrieks and skirts back, dark body smoldering.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "Donyoku, open a portal. Ghelly, protect him." I unsheathe my kusarigama while I bark my commands and grip my spear tighter. "I need to help a goddamn demon."

    I send the blade of my weapon flying. It hooks into Mutovinatum and I yank him back out of harm''s way, narrowly avoiding another jet of flame. I pull my blade out of his inky black body with a wet sucking noise. I doubt it hurt him...much. He turns to me and I hold up my hand¡ªsave it. I dive out of the way of Zargoth''s paw and I see Mutovinatum leap at the dragon. It doesn''t do much; the beast shakes him off and bats him like a cat swiping at a mouse.

    I do my best to keep the huge lizard away from Donyoku, who is still struggling to open a portal. Good gods! At this rate, I''ll be delicious barbecue before we get back to Malor! I slide underneath the belly of Zargoth, but neither my spear nor my kusarigama do any damage. Mutovinatum strikes again and again, looking for a chink in his armor, but can''t seem to find an advantage.

    Zargoth digs his claws into the earth and sends a large boulder crashing towards me. I duck underneath it, but the movement gives me an idea. I grab a large rock and hurl it as hard as I can at the giant lizard. When it makes impact, Zargoth roars in my direction; perfect. I send my spear flying towards his open jaws. Mutovinatum shoots out like a black dart, following the spear as a dark tendril. The spear embeds itself between one of Zargoth''s teeth and his gums. Mutovinatum slinks along the spear and slips into the small wound. I hope I didn''t just do something stupid.

 Chapter 16.2 Cry of Death

    The spear embeds itself between one of Zargoth''s teeth and his gums. Mutovinatum slinks along the spear and slips into the small wound. I hope I didn''t just do something stupid.

    The dragon swats at me and I duck behind a tree stump. He moves to crush me, but his paw halts in mid-air. It jerks forward and then comes down a few feet away from me. He roars and uses his wings to lift up into the air. As he flaps, one of his wings twists on itself and crunches, sending the dragon plummeting to the earth. I peek from around the stump to see Zargoth dragging his head along the ground. One paw comes up and he bites it savagely, digging into his own flesh. His tail whips around and he stomps in it, bones snapping. He lets out a pained scream that penetrates into my bones. Despite myself, I feel a chill down my spine, and I almost feel...bad?

    One of his shoulders rotates and he slams his leg down, bone snapping through one of the joints. I wince at the grinding and crunching noise, rotating my shoulder subconsciously. Zargoth collapses forward, tearing off several of his claws with his teeth. He slams his head repeatedly into the earth, even as his hind legs try to drag him away.

    We all watch with open mouths as the dragon tries to scream with a mouthful of earth, his single wing flapping weakly. Blood oozes from the cracks in his skull, teeth flying out with every impact. Zargoth catches my eye, huge tears rolling down his scaly cheeks. I rush forward to do something, anything, but it''s too late.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    With one last screech, Zargoth slams his head into the earth and snaps his own neck with a sickening crunch. Black goo pours out from between his scales, surrounding the dragon, enveloping it in inky darkness. After a few moments of pressure, the mighty beast suddenly collapses. Mutovinatum slowly rises, standing taller than before and emanating a wave of power. Gods, what have I done?

    "The heart of Zargoth, an eternal heat source." He looks at me, revealing innumerable rows of sharp, triangular, teeth. "Bon app¨¦tit." Before I can think of anything else, I rush forward and snatch it from his grip, jumping back to avoid a save swipe. The power source wasn''t one or both crystals, it was Zargoth''s heart. It looks like a black rock with several veins of what appear to be pulsing lava intertwined through it.

    "How''s that portal coming along?" I shout behind me. Mutovinatum stalks closer, tendrils of shadow whipping and hissing around him like a wall of serpents.

    "Something''s keeping me here!" Donyoku shouts back frantically. No shit, Sherlock. I roll underneath several tendrils that shoot out towards me, slicing them apart with my kusarigama. Ghelly jumps into the fray, shooting several more that try to impale me. Sorry shadow snakes, I''m kind of the one who does the impaling around here.

 Chapter 16.3 Cry of Death

    I roll underneath several tendrils that shoot out towards me, slicing them apart with my kusarigama. Ghelly jumps into the fray, shooting several more that try to impale me. Sorry shadow snakes, I''m kind of the one who does the impaling around here.

    "Stay back!" I yell at Ghelly. He rolls out of the way as Mutovinatum comes closer. I take a running leap at the shadow creature, but he bats me to the side, his sights focused on Ghelly. I slam against a tree and try to pick myself up, but the world is spinning too fast, and Ghelly''s running out of room to evade. The ring of shadows hiss and circle in closer, snapping at his heels.

    "You''re mine," Mutovinatum growls. All of the shadows converge inside of him and he lunges forward as a single dark streak.

    I jump in front of Ghelly and catch Mutovinatum, using his moment to sling him past the kid and into a tree. He slams into the wood and gasps out, looking down at his chest.

    A large, sharp, spine of the tree sticks out through the black shadows of his chest. He gurgles and then evaporates into dark smoke, dissipating quickly. I breathe heavily and turn to Ghelly, pulling him close.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    "Don''t you ever risk yourself like that again," I demand, pointing a quivering finger at him.

    "A ''thank you'' would have been nice," he says. I shake my head and smack him on the shoulder. "Ow! What was that for?"

    "It''s how I show affection when I''m in a near-death situation," I reply. A whirl of bright blue pops up and Donyoku roars in excitement.

    "Everybody through, now! That parasite must have been keeping us here," I look down at the heart of Zargoth, and then at the indents in the dirt. He was just doing his job, and this is how he gets repaid. Do you have to take just to get what you want? Is this how it''s destined to be? I feel like I''ve started something here, and that may not be a good thing. I look at Ghelly¡ªat least I have something pointing me in the right direction. Maybe the kid will be my moral compass. And also probably the death of me.

    "Namonai! If you''re done reminiscing, get your ass through here!" I turn to Donyoku and nod.

    I clutch Zargoth''s heart close and push Ghelly through the portal. For a moment, standing in front of the whirling cosmic gateway, I can''t breathe. It feels like something is clogging my throat, curling and twisting up along my spine and every inch inside of me. The feeling is gone as quick as it came, and I gulp one last breath. Then, I leap through the gateway.

 Chapter 17.1: Under the Table

    Suddenly, I can breathe again. I gasp, pulling air into my lungs faster than I can let it out. Oh gods, this feels so good! The bitter taste of salt mixed with the city, of wet dog and old food¡ªI live for this. I turn to Ghelly, who jerks to consciousness a moment later. I laugh and hug him close as he coughs out his first few breaths of reality. Before I know it, he''s returning the hug, gripping me tight. Ow! Ribs! And...ugh, everything. Everything hurts. But what''s new?

    Ghelly leans back on his hands, tossing his dark locks out of his face. "Son of a bitch," he gasps out with a smile. I couldn''t have said it better myself. For a moment, we both sit there and listen to our labored breathing, and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Ghelly turns his attention to it and frowns. "We were in there for a week, but that clock says it''s only been a few hours." He''s about to ask Donyoku about it, until he sees the Baku is asleep, snoring softly.

    I look down at the heart of Zargoth in my hands and grab a bag from one of Donyoku''s dressers, slipping the heart inside. At least this wasn''t all for nothing. I put an arm around Ghelly and turn him around.

    "Let the Baku sleep, mate. He must be exhausted." I lead Ghelly out the door and lock it behind us, entering the street. "And a word of advice," I say, looking down at him. "Don''t try to wrap your head around the Dream Realm. Sometimes you''re in there for a month and it''s only been a day. Sometimes you''re there for an hour, and when you come out, all your friends have aged to dust." I snap my mouth shut to keep from saying anymore. Ghelly slips out from under my arm and looks down at the ground. Way to make it heavy, Namonai. I slap him on the back and he stumbles¡ªI will never get tired of that. "But, you had some questions, right?"

    "Yeah. So, um," Ghelly scratches the back of his head, "I''m still confused about some stuff. Like, what do you I call you?"

    We skirt around a bickering old couple, rejoining on the other side of them. "You can call me Namonai."

    "But what about the memory I saw? They were calling you something else." I sigh and straighten my mask. Kids, always so curious. I should give Ghelly to Esilea for a day, she likes kids. Okay, that sounded wrong.

    "I was born as the god Hosuseri, son to Ninigi and Sakuya, brother to Hoderi and Hoori. But that''s not who I am anymore. I''ve made a new name for myself." Literally. I look to Ghelly. "Next."

    "Okay." Ghelly looks underwhelmed by my answer. "Why do you wear the mask?" he asks. I scratch my chin, thinking.

    "Well, I mean, why does anyone do anything, really?"

    "Namonai..."

    "Fine." I hate being responsible and sticking to my word. It''s so tedious. "I was burned at birth. Under this mask," I gesture with my hand to the mask I wear that marks me as an agent of Inari to the outside world, "I look like the child of an overripe tomato and a rotten egg yolk, if said child was burnt to shit and then dehydrated for a month by sea salt."

    I look at Ghelly out of the corner of my eye to see him making a very revolted face. "That''s sick!" he says. He leans forward and I pick up my pace, speaking before he can open his mouth.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "No, you can''t see it."

    "Alright, fine," he pouts. "Then," he rounds his shoulders as we pass some of Marazan''s goons, "what''s the deal with Donyoku? That shadow guy called him a ''Conductor''." I keep my eyes on the beast people until we''re a safe distance. The Jungle is home, yeah, but more of a...filthy, crime-ridden, dangerous home that I half-hate. I still love it, though. Mostly.

    "Conductors are creatures, many of them being Baku, that facilitate safe travel for others between different locations and planes of existence in the cosmos." Ghelly nods with a blank look on his face. "Half bodyguard, half tour guide." His face lights up with understanding. "They''re the natural enemies of interdimensional parasites like Mutovinatum, and they hate each other''s guts. The best Conductors are chosen to guard various gateways and portals around the cosmos.

    "They work closely with Godkillers. And Godkillers," I continue even while Ghelly tries to interject. Sometimes, kid, you just have to listen. "Are mortals who were imbued with the ability to never age, as well as superhuman strength, endurance, and the like. They also, most of the time, get a free pass out of the Underworld should they be killed while in service. They never age, but they''re not invincible.

    "Immortals created them as a way to deal with rivalries and eliminate potential, galaxy-ending wars. They work similar to demi-gods from ancient literature. Besides Immortals and extranormal entities, they''re the only ones capable of killing Immortals without breaching a universal contract laid down by Father Time and Mother Earth. It''s still not easy, though¡ªit takes a while and there''s a lot of paperwork. And before you ask," we pass the Eyreie Orphanarium, "most Godkillers are assholes. Don''t associate with them."

    Ghelly nods, slowly digesting the new information. "So...Immortals create Godkillers from regular people." He taps the pommel of his sword, thinking for a moment. "Then...can someone be born a Godkiller?"

    I nod. "It''s rare, but it can happen. They''re more powerful than normal Godkillers, often having access to powerful magic or abilities. Most of the time, they''re quickly snatched up or killed by Immortals before they become a real threat." Ghelly lets out a long sigh, stretching his shoulders as we draw closer to the Burnt Rice Tavern. The sun has started its descent, but it''s not yet evening.

    "And why did we go in the Dream Realm in the first place?"

    I hug the bag with Zargoth''s heart in it closer to my torso. "A real bitch named Marinette had a discussion with Naiomi. Apparently, we were hired to get an eternal power source which will probably be used to power some kind of drill. The power source turned out to be the dragon''s heart. That''s why I went, anyway." I turn to him as we reach the threshold. "But I suspect you came with me because of my irresistible personality."

    "You wish," Ghelly says with snort. I frown and keep my hand on the door.

    "Maybe. But, this stays between us, clear? No more questions, and don''t talk about any of this with the others. Including Naiomi. Got it?" He nods. "Good." I swing the tavern door open.

    "Namonai!" I smile underneath my mask. Ah, the hero''s welcome. I open my arms wide to receive the praise. "Where in the seven hells have you been?" My smile drops at Naiomi''s words. Of course this is the thanks I get. (they obviously don''t appreciate you)

    I shake the dark thought out of my head and bow to the empty bar. "Just getting what you asked for, your royal bitchiness." I come out of the bow to see a very disheveled Naiomi walking gingerly down the stairs. Her hair''s a rat''s nest. She tries to straighten it with her brush while she attempts to fix the straps of her dress, all without missing a single step. A large, anthropomorphic wolf in baggy pants held up by a piece of rope leaves her room and brushes past her. He gives me a large grin and slams the tavern door shut behind him.

    Naiomi (that bitch) clears her throat. "Hopefully the power source is¡ª"

    "No, no. We''re on this now," I say quietly.

 Chapter 17.2: Under the Table

    "Just getting what you asked for, your royal bitchiness."

    I come out of the bow to see a very disheveled Naiomi walking gingerly down the stairs. Her hair''s a rat''s nest. She tries to straighten it with her brush while she attempts to fix the straps of her dress, all without missing a single step. A large, anthropomorphic wolf in baggy pants held up by a piece of rope leaves her room and brushes past her. He gives me a large grin and slams the tavern door shut behind him.

    Naiomi (that bitch) clears her throat. "Hopefully the power source is¡ª"

    "No, no. We''re on this now," I say quietly. Naiomi completes her descent down the stairs, still messing with her dress. "Who was that?"

    "Nobody."

    "Who was that?" I ask. My voice is barely above a whisper.

    "It''s nothing, Namonai." (it''s never nothing. maybe you need to strangle the truth out of her. when has she ever put your feelings or your truth first? the manipulative fox wouldn''t even¡ª)

    I bite my tongue to force the subconscious thoughts out of my head. No, keep calm here. Maybe she''s telling the truth. (unlikely) Yeah, I doubt it. "If it''s nothing, then why don''t you tell me what happened?"

    "Just drop it!"

    I take a step forward, boots slamming down onto the rickety wooden floor. "Like how I drop everything else? (ungrateful) Am I just supposed to ignore this? (she expects you to) We both know this isn''t you, and he," I gesture to the departed wolf, my voice rising, "certainly isn''t your type. Nobody is! And that just changes?" (make up your mind you selfish whore. does she even deserve your loyalty?) "And after everything I''ve done for you?" I take a deep breath, shaking my head. "Here, take it. Be a good lap dog and give it to Marinette yourself." I toss the bag onto the floor and brush past Naiomi, bumping my shoulder against hers. I slam the door to my room shut behind me.

    Gods! Who does she think she is? Treating me like that. Inviting a stranger in and...and doing gods know what. (or she''s been keeping it from you all along. honesty is a one way street for her) Oh gods, what if she has been seeing someone? And didn''t tell me? (goddamn bitch!) I put my head in my hands and sigh. You''re losing it, Namonai. All these dark thoughts in the back of my head...and now Naiomi? I''m not sure how long I can keep up my happy charade.

    Someone knocks at my door. "Namonai?" It''s Esilea. I suppose I''m not angry at her. (why shouldn''t you be? what do you mean to her besides¡ª) No, that''s enough. Enough of this. Only happy thoughts now. And the occasional sarcastic, slightly bitter, mental remark. Okay, mostly sarcasm with some happiness sprinkled in.

    "Come in," I say. The door opens and the tall warrior steps in as I lean back on my hands on the bed. "Just couldn''t resist the opportunity of catching me in bed?"This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    "I don''t do masks," she says with a grin. "But, no, that''s not why I came in. I just wanted to¡ª"

    "Where''d you get that?" I interrupt, nodding at a long gash on her arm. She wipes up a trickle of blood with her finger.

    "Oh, this? It''s nothing?" My fingers tighten their grip on the sheets. I''m really getting tired of being told that "it''s nothing". It''s obviously something! Do they just think I''m stupid? (obviously you''re an idiot if¡ª) I said no.

    "It''s obviously not ''nothing'', so tell me what happened." Esilea bites her lip and then sighs.

    "Icarus and I just had an argument. He threw some stuff. It''s nothing. I¡ª" The rest of her words are lost to me as I storm past her and wrench my door open. This ends now.

    I cross the tavern floor in a second and fling the cellar doors open. Icarus barely has time to shout before I''ve slung him over my shoulder.

    My body only dimly registers the pain. Icarus hits my back, but my body is already so sore that I barely feel it. Esilea tries to step in front of me, but I duck around her and slam my door shut. I toss Icarus on my bed and slide the locks on my door shut, propping a chair up to it for good measure.

    "Namonai!" Esilea pounds on the door. "Namonai, open up!"

    "I''m not going to hurt him!" I call back through the thin wood. Well, as long as he cooperates. Even then, I won''t hurt him...much. A little pain now and then can be constructive.

    "What''s this all about?" Icarus demands, trying to sit himself up. I pick him up and prop him up against the wall, placing a pillow behind his head. I can''t help it¡ªI see the bald kid, and I feel bad. As long as he''s not talking, he''s actually kind of...nice.

    "Are you comfortable?" Icarus opens his mouth, but I continue. "Good. Now here''s what''s going to happen: you and I are going to have a polite conversation, like adults. And then, like an adult, you''ll make nice with Esilea."

    "I have nothing to say to her," Icarus says, crossing his arms.

    "But plenty of things to throw, it looks like."

    "I''m not apologizing." (it wouldn''t take much to beat some sense into him. he''d only fight back at first; it would be easy. just watch his face cave in and crumple, the blood pouring over. thick, and red. so red.) I flex my fingers by my sides and take a deep breath.

    "Why not?" I ask. He looks up at me. "What did she do?"

    "It''s what everyone does," Icarus mumbles. I sit down on the bed, my weight causing a small dip in the mattress. "My money won''t last forever, and Esilea is a great warrior; she''s not cheap. What then? It''s not that..." He swallows and shakes his head. "It doesn''t matter. Why am I telling you this?" No! We''re getting somewhere! I drum my fingers on the sheets.

    "I guess I just have one of those faces you can talk to," I say with a smile in my voice. "But you''re not doing that, Icarus. You have a good heart and a brilliant mind, I know it. And beneath that scowl," his frown deepens, "I''ve seen a nice smile or two. Now, I''ll level with you here." I reposition myself on the bed. "I''m not in a good mood, and my patience is really thin. I''m not an understanding kind of guy, either. But I''m trying here, mate. I am. Honestly, it''s taking everything I have not to beat some sense into you."

    "Thank you so much," Icarus says sarcastically. I slam my palm on the bed and he jumps.

    "That''s not helping!" I shout. I take a deep breath and stand, pacing. "This, this, is what I''m talking about. I don''t know if you noticed, but I wasn''t like this when we first met. Now, I don''t know if it''s been the increase in jobs or your shitty attitude or what, but I can''t live like this." (how else would you live your life? you''re a lapdog, a messenger; a toy. don''t pretend to want something more; this is all you know.) I lean forward on the bed. "In the back of my head, I''ve been having these dark thoughts, and they keep getting louder. Now," I slip my mask off, running my hands over my bandaged face, "I''ve shared my problems. Your turn."

 Chapter 17.3: Under the Table

    I lean forward on the bed. "In the back of my head, I''ve been having these dark thoughts, and they keep getting louder. Now," I slip my mask off, running my hands over my bandaged face, "I''ve shared my problems. Your turn."

    Icarus mimics my sigh. "Esilea only follows me because of my money. She could just kill me and take it at any time. None of you would stop her. Hell, you might even split the taking." He runs a hand across the tanned surface of his scarred head. "My uncle, Daedalus, was betrayed by those closest to him. And that''s how I ended up here," he says, gesturing to his wheelchair. "Needless to say, I have trust issues."

    I take a seat on the bed again. "If it makes you feel any better, I don''t think we''re that close." Icarus snorts and I lean forward. "I mean it! I don''t know the first thing about you! And, honestly? I don''t want to. You seem kind of stuffy and anal about everything. A real genius type. Annoys the piss out of me," I say. Icarus smiles and I return it. "So, I don''t think you have anything to worry about, because I don''t give a shit about you, and you don''t care about me. With the life I lead, I could die tomorrow, so there''s no worries about your secrets getting out."

    "It''s not a secret," Icarus says, shifting awkwardly. "Daedalus trusted a mage to enchant his wings that he and I were going to use to escape the Malorian government. But the enchantment was shit from the start. My uncle was executed, and I learned how it felt to plummet straight into the ocean. And now? Esilea''s just so damn trusting. She believes anything. Magic can''t be trusted, and who knows if gods exist?" I open my mouth, but shut it to let him keep talking. I''m pretty sure the gods exist, buddy. "I mean, what makes someone a ''god'' anyway? But Esilea just takes it all on blind faith. And now with that pirate," Icarus'' jaw clenches for a moment, his voice growing quiet. "If Esilea leaves, I''m exposed. I have nothing, and nobody to protect me." I nod, scratching my neck.

    "That''s a good point. I mean, if she leaves, you''re basically a dead man. So," he looks down at the sheets and I tap one of his hands to get his attention, "have you considered being nice to her?" He snaps his head up. "Your money won''t last forever, you''re right about that. But maybe, if you were nice to her and tried to be good friends with her, she''d stick around because she liked you. Because she''s your friend. She wants to like you, Icarus, she really does. But you have to give her something to like."

    While he nods, his brow furrows in thought. I stand and unlock my door, removing the chair. Esilea comes rushing through as soon as I open the door. She knocks me against the wall and drops to her knees beside the bed, poking and feeling Icarus.

    "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is everything alright?" I rub my neck and stretch my shoulders. I''m kinda tired of getting knocked around. (maybe you should do something about it, instead of being a bitch. always a little bitch for everyone, aren''t you? ever since you were a kid, you always¡ª) I interrupt myself¡ªwhich I seem to be doing a lot, lately¡ªby digging my nails into my palms.

    "He''s fine, Esilea. In fact, he has something he''d like to tell you." Icarus nods and swallows.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "I, um..." He fidgets with his shirt. "This is so stupid," he sighs. I give him a sharp look and he clears his throat. "Esilea, I''m...sorry. If you want to be with Xian, or trust everyone and everything you meet, I won''t judge you." She frowns, standing up.

    "I don''t trust blindly, Icarus. The only person I trust is you." Okay, that stung a little. "Everyone else barely deserves my respect." I mean, I''m right here guys. "But you''ve been through so much, and every promise you''ve made, you''ve kept. It was us against the world in Ismar, and I like it that way." What am I, chopped liver? Icarus blinks rapidly, quickly wiping his eyes. He holds his arms up like a child, and Esilea picks him up. I see a small smile on her face as she carries the young inventor out. So...success?

    "That was oddly effective." I jump, my heart leaping up into my throat. I spin towards the source of the noise, blood hammering in my ears. Wikolia crawls out from under my bed, dusting herself off.

    "Why..." I pinch the bridge of my nose, my bandages soaked with sweat. She''s the only one that does this to me, and I''m getting sick of it. It''s...also kind of nice, in a way. But mostly, awful. "Why were you under my bed?"

    "I was asleep, and you stormed in. Where else was I supposed to go?" she asks matter-of-factly.

    "In the bathroom. Out the window. Or, you know," I look at her intently, "you could have just got off my bed and walked out of my room."

    "I could have," she says, nodding. She flicks a speck of dust off her scales. Silence builds up until I can almost hear it.

    "So...you heard about..."

    "Your homicidal rage thoughts and Icarus'' deepest fears? Yes," the Wyvern says. If it were anyone else, I''d probably have to make some threats right about now. But I''m pretty tired, and it is Wikolia.

    "Well, good. I guess." I brush past her and flop onto my bed, stuffing my face into a pillow. It smells different. Like...wood smoke. And deep earth, and fresh rain. Is this what the Wyvern smells like? I hear the door creak open. "Wait!" I shout, turning. Wikolia pauses, turning her blindfolded eyes in my direction. "You saw the wolf who came by, earlier, right?"

    "Yes. He went up to Naiomi''s room."

    "What happened?" The Wyvern''s tail twitches and her scales around her cheeks shift to a slightly brighter green. She flicks her tongue out rapidly.

    "That...is a private matter not to be discussed," she whispers. If she''s too embarrassed to say, then I have my answer. I swear and put my elbows on my knees. I look at Wikolia and clack my teeth together, thinking. This may work. She is stealthy. She could do it.

    "Did you get a good look at him?" Wikolia taps her foot and swishes her tail in what I assume is agitation. I look at her blindfold. Right. "What I mean is: do you think you could track him down?" She tilts her head at me.

    "Of course."

    "And find out everything about him? Name, place of work, allergies; everything?"

    "This is me we''re talking about," she says, almost sounding insulted. That''s what I thought. I grin and stand.

    "Good. That''s exactly what I want you to do." She taps her claws on the wooden doorframe.

    "And what do I get?"

    "My everlasting affection." The Wyvern shakes her head and I sigh. "I''ll let you sleep in my bed again."

    "No." I raise an eyebrow at her, bunching my bandages. "Your mattress is thin, and smells like..." Her tail swishes again and she clears her throat. "Your mattress is thin. And uncomfortable." What does she want then? If I were an unreadable lizard assassin with a twisted and dry sense of humor, and I had all the power in the situation, what would I want? I grin, chuckling to myself.

    "I''ll get you your own mattress," I say. That gets her attention. "And I''ll put it next to the fireplace." She flicks her tongue out once, and nods.

    "You''ll have the information in twenty-four hours."

 Chapter 18.1: Crusoe

    "I still don''t see why I had to come," I grumble, kicking a stone across the street. Esilea quickens her pace, pushing Icarus faster in his chair.

    "Because," she says, satchel swinging, "if Icarus is having a secret meeting with Vioda and Alarice Crusoe, then we''re all coming." She gives a pointed glare down at Icarus.

    "It''s not secret if everyone knows about it," he mumbles.

    "What was that?" she demands.

    "Nothing!" he says and adjusts in his chair. Esilea nods, and looks back at me.

    "Where''s Wikolia, by the way? She should be here." I gulp and rub my sweating palms on my pants.

    "Um, she''s busy. She had some...lizard assassin stuff to do." I shrink under Esilea''s glare until she shrugs and looks down the road again.

    "Whatever. She can do her own thing, but she shouldn''t expect to be part of the team."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    "Hey, that''s not fair," I say, catching up to them. Especially since she''s only absent because I put her on a mission.

    "She''s right, Namonai," Icarus says. He looks up to Esilea, and then to me. "You can''t be a lone wolf and part of a pack."

    "Don''t talk about wolves," I snap, subconsciously tapping my Kitsune mask. I''m just glad Ghelly didn''t ask why I was wearing the same mask as agents of Inari. I wonder if he even knows who Inari is? "Is that what we are though, a team?" (judging from the way they treat you like shit, it seems more like a fight with your hands tied behind your back)

    Esilea shrugs. "It''s either that or ''group of strangers who have been forced together by circumstances beyond their control''," she says.

    "It''s not nearly as catchy," Icarus chimes in. (or you''re just a punching bag, and this is their excuse. they''re using you) They wouldn''t use me! I''m a nice guy! Well...pretty nice. Sometimes.

    "All teams have a leader," I say. "And I''m assuming ours is¡ª"

    "Naiomi," Esilea says.

    "Yeah, definitely Naiomi," Icarus says and nods in agreement.

    "Don''t say her name," I snap. (hit a soft spot there, did they? it''s what people using you would do) "Besides, she''s not even part of the team."

    "All I''m saying is that Naiomi¡ª"

    "Don''t say her name!" I snarl. That didn''t feel like me. I run my hands through my hair and take them away, trembling. What''s happening to me?

    "Fine, sorry," Icarus mumbles. (serves him right) I can''t help but agree. Is that awful? I pick up the pace, passing the dynamic duo in a flurry of dust and frustration. A team my ass.

 Chapter 18.2: Crusoe

    "Miss Crusoe will see you now," a young man says with a smile.

    "''Bout time," I grumble. The waiting room is a pleasant enough place, if you like opulence and obvious displays of power and wealth. I''m not saying it''s a bad look.

    "You should keep thoughts like that to yourself," Icarus advises. (like a dog on a leash)

    "Never seems to stop you from spouting technobabble nonsense," I point out, adjusting my mask. Every time he has the chance, Icarus is bound to show off. And if I''m going to avoid getting any further in bed with the Last Brigade and Alarice Crusoe, I''ll be counting on that in this "meeting". Alarice Crusoe in bed. Hm, now that is certainly something to investigate further. You know, after I avoid being caught up in a possible revolutionary war. (and avoid being stabbed in the back by those closest to you) Yes, well, a man''s gotta have priorities.

    Esilea has mostly been silent, both during our journey here, and in waiting to see Crusoe and Vioda. Seeing the tall warrior so focused and silent is almost a bit...terrifying. Behind the fun exterior, I''m starting to see why she''s such an expensive sellsword.

    She wheels Icarus through the double doors and I trail behind. I catch the eye of the assistant as he closes the door behind us; he almost looks at us with...pity?

    "Icarus! So glad you could make our meeting," Alarice says from behind her large desk. Does every powerful person have a huge ass piece of wood in their office? Guess it comes with the ego. (good one) Thank you. And now I''m talking to myself. The powerful merchant doesn''t get up from behind her desk, and I wouldn''t call the face she''s making a smile per say. The room feels uninviting, and chilly.

    "I can''t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity," Icarus gushes, wheeling himself forward out of Esilea''s grasp, who frowns. Save it for someone who cares, boy. Nobody wants to hear your fountain of sickly sweet affection. (is that because he never shows it to you? or is it because nobody ever shows that to you?)

    "It was supposed to be only Icarus," Vioda says with an icy tone. Her dark dreads are pulled back in a strict bun, her twin swords prominently displayed on her belt. "The others should wait outside."

    "I''d like to see you try," Esilea scoffs, the scars on her face twisting into a predatory smirk.

    "Is that a challenge?" Vioda hisses, her hands going to the hilt of her blades.

    "Is there a dreadlocked bitch standing in front of me?" Esilea snaps back, slinging the top of her satchel open.

    "You insolent¡ª"

    "I think we''re getting off-track here," Icarus says, wiping sweat from his brow. Oh come on, it was just starting to get good! (they always spoil your fun. when was the last time you were free?) He clears his throat and wheels closer to Alarice. "I apologize for my companion''s rude remarks. They can both wait outside." Hey! What did I do?

    "That won''t be necessary," Alarice says with a wave of her hand. She turns and gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Agents of Inari are always welcome at Crusoe Exports."

    "Alaraice¡ª" Vioda starts, but Crusoe cuts her off.

    "They will stay," she says firmly.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "But if I could just¡ª"

    "Need I remind you who is funding your little ''revolution''?" Alarice whispers quietly. Goosebumps race up my arms, and I resist the urge to shiver. The chill in her voice could freeze a desert. "Apologize, now."

    "I''m sorry Miss Crusoe," Vioda says softly.

    "Not to me. Them." Vioda''s eyes widen, and she gasps quietly. A moment later, she''s regained her composure, and turns to us.

    Her jaw is clenched, her form rigid, as she forces her words out. "I''m...sorry for an impoliteness on my part." Alarice watches with a bemused expression, but neither Icarus nor Esilea respond. I''m not sure they know how.

    "Don''t worry yourself over it," I say and wave my hand. (always trying to keep peace, aren''t you? i wonder when you''ll finally let them dig their own way out) I nod my head at Alarice. "I''m assuming you didn''t call Icarus here, or let us stay, just to hear the eloquent brusqueness of Malorian street poetry I memorized for this occasion," I say, directing my words at the merchant woman. She grins and rearranges a stack of papers on her desk.

    "And here I was, thinking Icarus was the brains of the operation," she says. Icarus blushes deep read, and I feel a pang of guilt at her words. Don''t let her pit you against each other. (but would that be so bad?) In this context, yes. Mucho bad.

    "Oh he is. He just lacks my charismatic flair," I say with a ridiculously low bow. (playing the fool will only protect them for so long. and it will only sink you further in the grave you''ve dug) Good thing I''m not claustrophobic.

    "That''s one word for it," Esilea mumbles. But she can''t hide the ghost of a grin that was peeking through her tough warrior fa?ade.

    "I see," Alarice says. We wait for a moment in silence before she continues. "I did have a reason for bringing Icarus here. But I got lucky to have you all here, under one roof." That sounds ominous, but if you''re lookin'' to get lucky... "I have a job for you."

    "We have a job for you," Vioda says quietly, but Alarice doesn''t reply. Icarus looks between the two, and as he opens his mouth, Esilea speaks.

    "And what do we get in return?"

    "As priceless as your gratitude is," I say. (that''s right, prostrate yourself again for the greater good. like a good little dog.) "We can''t put food on the table with it."

    "With the gratitude of a Crusoe, you can do anything," Alarice says imperiously. Her chest deflates slightly, and she nods slowly. "But, yes, you will be compensated."

    "How?" Esilea demands. I wince at her insistence, and Vioda''s grip tightens on her swords.

    "Namonai," my eyes widen in surprise. How does she know who I am? She is one of the richest women in Malor; I suppose it wouldn''t be such a stretch. "Will have his debts cleared with the proprietor of the Burnt Rice Tavern." Alarice''s mouth twists in a rueful grin. "That can''t make Inari happy," she says with a soft chuckle. "Icarus will be given access to our workshops." The young inventor''s face lights up and I can see him practically bouncing in his seat. "The Nightstalker''s payment will be discussed once the mission is complete."

    "That''s three out of the four," Esilea reminds them. Alarice sighs, and her hands tremble with what I can only assume is restraint.

    "You will be given weapons. And," Alarice talks louder of Esilea''s objections, "Xian will be brought back for a time period to be discussed after you have finished the job." The tall warrior paused, and then nodded slowly. (the things ones will do to ease their heart. it''s sickening)

    "What''s the job?" Icarus asks. He would never be a good gambler¡ªthat shit-eating grin would give him away in a heartbeat.

    "There''s a conglomerate residing in Malor known as the Ismar Trading Co.," Vioda says as she steps in front of the desk. "We''ve tried removing the head of the snake in the past, but it''s never a permanent solution. And now..."

    "You have a permanent solution?" I inquire. Vioda nods.

    "We want you to destroy their headquarters here in Malor."

    "What?" Icarus shouts. Esilea brushes past him, and pokes her finger at Vioda''s chest.

    "What about the innocent lives killed in doing such a thing? Both inside, and outside, the building!"

    Alarice looks at us over steepled fingers. "We''re working on evacuating the area subtly; we don''t want to draw the Trading Co.''s attention. If you deem there are any lives worth saving in the building, I won''t stop you."

    I look over at my companions, who look somewhere between frightened and flabbergasted. Me, the rational one again? I hate this new trend. "And how do you propose we destroy an entire building made out of Malorian concrete and steel?" I ask.

    "I''m glad you asked, old friend!" Oh no. "I happen to have just the solution you need to this little problem." (oh this is just perfect) "Come on Namonai, greet your old pal."

    I slowly turn around, cringing. "Hey, Khalil."

 Chapter 19.1: Ismar Trading Co.

    One of the benefits of being a rat? You know where all the little hidey holes are: the cracks in the pavement, the alleys behind the banks, and spots Inari''s agents don''t wander. Or, say, sewers that lead straight into merchant megacorporations. Of course, when people spot a rat, it gets exterminated. The trick is to not get caught.

    "Careful!" Icarus snaps from behind me. Some rats are noisier than others. I turn to the "genius" and put a finger to my mask.

    My voice is a whisper, hissing out between the spaces of my mask. "Be quiet, cripple boy. The walls may not have ears, but the guards do. Come to think of it..." I turn my critical gaze to the slimy cracked concrete and bricks of the tunnel walls. "Don''t talk to the walls either."

    "I''m not the one who doesn''t know how to duck," Icarus complains and glares at Esilea. At least the walls don''t talk back. (but they don''t make the same satisfying crunch sound his head does) True, true.

    "Sorry!" Esilea apologizes. Her voice echoes down the sewer walls and I wince.

    "What did I just say?" I hiss. There''s a soft creak above us, and a few pebbles trickle down onto our heads¡ªwe all freeze. I hold my breath, which is probably a good thing, considering what I''m currently wading through. The footsteps pass, and we finally breathe again. I wrinkle my nose¡ªbad move on my part. Note: bring air fresheners in sewers next time.

    "I''m sorry I snapped," Icarus says softly. Finally, they''re learning. (still, the screams sound better) "I feel so useless being carried like a child."

    "You are a child," Wikolia says as she slips past them. She nearly blends into the darkness and grim green on the walls; she was born for this.

    "When did you get here?" Icarus asks. One of the veins on his head twitches at the sight of the Wyvern.

    "What she meant to say," Esilea interrupts, "was that you''re the only one who knows how to work the explosives." Icarus nods slowly to himself.

    "That is not¡ª"

    "So did you look into it?" I ask, cutting Wikolia off. The Wyvern snaps her attention to me and nods. She flicks her tongue and visibly recoils, lifting her tail even higher above the sewer muck.

    "Yes, and¡ª"

    "Tell me after." The Wyvern frowns as we begin creeping forward again.

    "I don''t appreciate being interrupted, Namonai," Wikolia says.

    "I don''t appreciate an unreliable flake pretending to be part of the team," I retort quietly under my breath.

    "What team?" she replies, deadly calm. Her tail is completely still while we walk side by side.

    "My thoughts exactly," I whisper. I quicken my pace until I can barely hear the group''s incessant squabbling. Their problems aren''t my problems right now. But if not now, then when? We''re a team, aren''t we? Hell, they don''t even believe that. (they''re food. you could do this alone) I was doing it alone before. (then do it again; you''re better than they are) You may have a point; I am a literal god.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    I come to a halt beneath a square grate and wipe my hands on my pants. I place my hands on the bottom and push. The metal slowly lifts and grinds against stone while I shift it to the side. A large buildup of gunk splatters onto my mask and I splutter as some gets on my bandages. I''ve never been more thankful for protection. Well, there was that one time with the girl in the Kingdom...

    I jump and pull myself up out of the sewer, coming face to face with a startled janitor. He has "Ergar" embroidered in neat stitching on his olive colored uniform. Tears form at the edge of his eyes, and he''s blubbering before I can speak.

    "Oh gods, not again! Just take it!" He throws his ring of keys at me and races out the door in a panic. "I need a new job!" he shouts on his way out. I look once at the swinging door and then down at the janitor''s ring of keys. Well that was easy.

    I peek out the door and check the dim corridor; all clear. I suppose I should wait for the rest to catch up. (why? put the tunnel grate back on and do things the right way. the best way)

    "But if I blow this place sky high, the tunnels might collapse underneath!" I mutter under my breath. (so?) "I don''t even have the explosives. Besides, if I left them on their own, they''d run around like chickens with their heads cut off." (a tasty proposition, but maybe a little messy for right now) "Exactly!"

    "Um...who are you talking to?" I whirl around to see Icarus being lifted out of the tunnel, cobwebs hanging from his ears. Esilea sets him down and climbs up after him. She pulls his wheelchair out of her satchel while the Wyvern scampers up and replaces the grate.

    "The hypothetical versions of you that got here in time and didn''t slow me down," I reply coldly.

    "I was just asking," Icarus mumbles with downcast eyes.

    "When aren''t you asking questions?" I mutter. Esilea gently sets the inventor in his wheelchair and wraps a thick arm around his scrawny shoulders. She glares at me with thin eyes, her hand resting on her satchel.

    Just like when I first met her. (should''ve finished things there) I square my shoulders and turn my back on them, taking a deep breath¡ªnever too late for a rematch. (maybe after you chop the head off the snake) I look to the double doors and sigh to myself. Why didn''t things stay the way they were before?

    "What''s the plan?" Wikolia asks. I turn to answer, but see she''s addressing Esilea. The warrior stands tall and begins pulling weapons out of her bag.

    "You and Icarus will lay explosives at key points within the building¡ª"

    "What?" Icarus interrupts the Amazon. Esilea smiles and hands him the satchel.

    "I have to get everyone out of this building." She kneels next to him while he rummages around inside her bag. "As much as I want to protect you, people are more likely to listen to me than the Wyvern." Wikolia frowns, but doesn''t say anything.

    Icarus casts a glance at Wikolia and sighs to himself. "Fine," he says with a resigned look down at Esilea''s satchel.

    "You''re sure it will burn?" The Wyvern asks as she flicks her tongue out briefly in the air. Icarus grins and wheels past her to the doors.

    "It''ll burn," he says and rubs his hands together. "Oh, it''ll burn." Maybe giving him the explosives wasn''t a good idea. (or it was a great idea) The kid''s crazy. (maybe we shouldn''t eat him) Nobody is eating anybody. Except maybe Wikolia, but that can''t be helped.

    "And Namonai will deal with the head of the Ismar Trading Corporation." Esilea doesn''t look at me while she speaks. She shoulders a javelin and inspects the straps on her armor. "After Icarus and the Wyvern finish, they will meet me in the lobby. If Namonai hits an unforeseen snag..." You''re an unforeseen snag. "We''ll find him and finish the job."

    "Are we to walk out the front like nothing''s the matter?" Wikolia asks, folding her arms across her chest.

    "Unless you prefer the sewer," Esilea responds. Wikolia scrunches her nose and Esilea nods. "Everybody good?"

    "Good," Icarus and the Wyvern reply nearly in unison. The Amazon slowly focuses her gaze on the wall directly next to me. We can play your quiet game if you want, Esilea. I silently nod, and exit the room before anybody can speak.

 Chapter 19.2 Ismar Trading Co.

    "Is there a map in this place?" I wonder aloud. All the hallways look the same, and there seem to be no end to staircases going in both directions. I think I even saw one going sideways. Maybe the two-tone grey and beige walls are finally starting to get to me. It wouldn''t be the first time I''ve slipped slowly into madness.

    "So then I said..." My ears perk up at the sound of rogue voices and I quickly look around me, searching for options. I could go back from where I came, maybe crash through a wall or¡ª"Hey!" Well I guess it''s plan c: take out an unlucky guard patrol.

    "Listen guys," I say and raise my hands. Fortunately, there are only two, though one of them immediately raises her hand to a small jewel behind her earlobe. Without missing a beat, I sling my kusarigama out.

    The weighted chain catches her around her throat, wrapping around like serpent. I yank hard, and the lady tumbles to the ground. Gasping for air, she grabs the chain and pulls hard.

    "What the¡ª" My words are cut short as I quickly join her on the ground. That''s some dedication. I barely manage to roll out of the way of her companion''s spear; Namonai-kebab''s aren''t nearly as delicious as they sound. I go to stand and she grabs my ankle. I desperately scramble for the other guard''s armor, seeking purchase with my fingers. The three of us are all in a tangle of limbs and sharp objects that almost poke in some very personal spaces. A boot connects with my mask in the scramble, and I feel my teeth sink into somebody''s skin. One of the guard''s cry out, but I can''t tell who I''m maiming as I fight for purchase in the pile of bodies.

    I gasp for air and throw the male guard off me with as much ferocity as I can muster. "You both," I pant and sucker punch him in the stomach, "take your jobs," I smack my mask into the bridge of his nose and it caves, "way too seriously." I feel something embed itself into my ass and bite back a yelp¡ªmustn''t show weakness here. I quickly turn and drop onto the female guard with my elbow, feeling her ribs crack underneath me. Before I fully make it to my feet, her companion tackles me around the waist.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    We crash through one of walls and I land on my back. He takes advantage of the air getting forcibly pushed from my lungs and tries to dig his fingers into the slits of my mask. Going for the weak spots there, nice. I mean, still makes you an asshole that has to bite the dust, but still. I can appreciate tenacity when I see it. I gnash my teeth and flail my limbs, squirming my body as much as I can underneath the man. Become one with the noodle! My knee connects with his balls and I shimmy out from underneath him.

    I gasp for air and stand, cracking my shin against the man''s face. Taking the collar of his uniform in my hand, I grab a piece of wood on the ground and smash it against his head.

    "What a waste of great art," I say while trying to catch my breath. I discard the torn painting and look around the room. I catch a glimpse of something shiny, and feel my feet yanked into the air.

    My kusarigama nearly slips free from my belt and I grab it before it hits the ground. I swing the blade wildly around, and feel myself lifted higher.

    "Look at what a mess you''ve made," a disapproving voice says. Small shoes slip through discarded papers and carefully navigate overturned desks.

    "It wasn''t my¡ª" My words are cut off as something constricts my windpipe. Great, more magic. Just what I need.

    "Rothsbury, Tekain, Zharn, get the others out." Several frightened individuals in different levels of professional dress¡ªand different stages of pissing themselves¡ªhelp others scurry past me until the room is clear. There''s a sigh from the darkness as more of the person holding me hostage comes into view. One thing''s for sure: they have nice legs.

    "Mmm, hmphmhmmuph," I say through my invisible bonds.

    "Why can''t people just keep things in their place? I can''t keep working with these coups and power struggles. My doctor told me to relax, and I can''t very well do that if you people won''t leave me in peace." A slight woman with glasses walks into view. Different points on her body glow with translucent blue energy, but not bright enough to make her wardrobe see-through, unfortunately. What''s the point of magic if you don''t have a little fun?

    "Shmphahummmhm," I say. I think she gets the gist.

    "I suppose introductions are in order," she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Hopefully, that means I get to live. "My name is Jo-Ri," she says, standing in front of me. "And you are?"

    "Look up!" I shout. She tilts her head up, and I take that moment to spit as hard as I can in the gap of her glasses. And just like that, I''m falling onto my face. Now, for the fun part.

 Chapter 19.3 Ismar Trading Co.

    "I suppose introductions are in order," she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. I feel the bonds disappear from my throat and mouth. Hopefully, that means I get to live. "My name is Jo-Ri," she says, coming to a halt in front of me. "And you are?"

    "Look up!" I shout. She tilts her head up, and I take that moment to spit as hard as I can in the gap of her glasses. And just like that, I''m falling onto my face. Now, for the fun part.

    I land hard on my shoulder and hiss out in pain. C''mon Namonai, don''t be a little bitch here. (if you do well, maybe you can take a nice long bath) I...don''t own a bathtub. (does it have to be yours?) Fair point.

    I quickly scramble to my feet and tackle Jo-Ri around her shins. She crumples underneath me and I scramble up her. I begin to wrap the chain of my kusarigama around her throat, but her invisible magic yanks me off by my waist. I hate fighting what I can''t see. (keep her distracted; she can''t use her magic if she''s not focused. then you can devour her insides and feast on her freshly peeled pretty hazel eyes) I could go for something juicy¡ªI was thinking grapes. Eyes work too I suppose.

    My back cracks against a desk, but fortunately the cheap wood breaks before I do. I desperately throw the blade of my weapon out. It cuts across one of Jo-Ri''s calves, and my bonds immediately disappear.

    I leap over a desk and stumble over one of the guard''s bodies. The ground rushes up to meet me, and I barely keep myself from face-planting. I turn my stumble into a roll and come to a stop in a crouch, attempting to sweep Jo-Ri''s ankles. She quickly steps back and I lunge forward, grabbing her by her expensive belt. I yank hard, and she crashes over a desk, rolling backwards into the wall. I scoop my kusarigama up and level the worn blade at her face.

    (what are you doing? end her and¡ª) Feast on her insides, yes, I got it. (what are you waiting for?) To be honest, I don''t know why I''m even fighting her. She''s just doing her job after all.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "You''re one hell of a security guard," I gasp out. She frowns up at me from behind her glasses. Her eyes are scrutinizing every inch of me and the dim office; I can almost hear the gears whirring inside her head.

    "I''m an accountant," she corrects. Despite her heaving chest and flared nostrils, her voice is level.

    "An accountant, huh?" That could be...useful. (what are you doing?) Maybe I''ve been listening to the wrong voice inside my head. You know, the psychotic one. Because there''s this other little voice in my head that says I''m in a lot of debt with a lot of scary people, and having somebody around who knows how to deal with money could be really handy.

    A sharp pain pierces through my head and I wince, scrunching my eyes behind my mask. Son of a bitch! You goddam asshole! As soon as this is over, I need to get my head checked. Didn''t Jo-Ri say she had a doctor? Let''s add that to the list.

    "The answer is yes," she says. The accountant stands, heedless of the apparent danger she''s in. She straightens her suit and readjusts her glasses. Jo-Ri looks around the office and sighs. "I need a new job anyway."

    "You don''t even know what I was going to ask," I say and sheathe my weapon.

    She gives me a small smile. "I knew before you did." She begins to walk away and I call out.

    "Wait!" She pauses for the briefest moment. "There''s a tall woman running around here evacuating employees. The thing is, I''m planning to blow up the building." The only change in Jo-Ri is a slight widening of the pupils for a split second. The girl is an absolute processing machine. With those legs, I bet she''s pretty good at processing other things as well.

    "And?" Ooh, we got a regular ice queen here. I''ve actually met an ice queen before; she rode a polar bear, and had a thing with lions. Never trust somebody that''s into animals.

    "And, she could use all the help you can give. You know the building better than she does. The plan was to meet in the lobby; I''d start there." Jo-Ri thinks for a moment, then nods. She starts to walk away when I call out again.

    "What?" she asks exasperated.

    "Where''s the boss''s office?" I ask. She narrows her eyes and they nearly turn to slits.

    "Why?"

    I finger the chipped blade of my kusarigama, grinning under my mask. "Oh...no reason."

 Chapter 19.4: Ismar Trading Co.

    A. Break through the door and take the boss by surprise.

    B. Don a disguise and assassinate the boss.

    C. ...leave?

    The possible options swirl in my head and leave me paralyzed in front of the boss''s door. Behind that thick piece of wood, I have the possibility of putting an end to the Ismar Trading Co. There are so many ways I can do this, and they all have their consequences. What''s the safest method? Which one gets me the best reward? Will I sleep with Jo-Ri or Alarice Crusoe? All valid questions.

    (just do it already!) Now isn''t the time to be impatient! (but breaking into a casino was? or taking an adolescent boy into the dream realm? you are impatience, little god) What...what did you just say? (...) Little...little god? Oh hell. I''m not going crazy, I''m poss-

    The door swings open and nearly smacks me in the face.

    "Oh I''m sorry!" a small man in a tidy suit apologizes. He freezes when he sees the blood on my clothes, and the weapon tucked through my belt. "Intru-" he begins to shout before I cover his mouth. But it''s already too late.

    "Ow! Son of a bitch!" I hiss and yank my hand away. The little bastard bit me. I kick him hard in the groin, dropping him into a low crouch. I grab him by his greasy hair and slam his head against the doorframe. He crumples and I step over his body, flicking imaginary lint off my shoulder. I guess this is how we''re doing it.

    (devour him) I shake my head and try to focus on the room in front of me, but my vision swims out of focus. (taste his flesh and grow in power) Shut up! (consume and ki-) I rub my temples furiously and try to block out the voice in my head. Searing needles of pain splinter apart though my neck and the base of my skull. I gasp out and drop onto my hands and knees. Something clicks underneath my palm; oh hell.

    I scramble to my feet, but a blinding burst of venomous pain slams into the front of my skull. It feels like rage has taken physical form, and is trying to split me apart by the seams. I cry out and stumble. There''s a flash of heat behind me, and I''m tossed like a ragdoll against a wall. I slam into it, my ears ringing. Blood wells up in my mouth and trickles down my nose. Dark boots enter my field of vision. My bones refuse to budge.

    "Can he...just great...sure." A low voice slurs in and out of my conscious, occasionally peeking past the ringing in my ears. Something hard slams into my side, and my lungs threaten to collapse. I roll onto my back and blink several times. Glowing walls of magical sigils encompass me in a circle, and I can feel the energy on my bruised skin.

    From across the room, I spot a hairy man behind a thick wall of glass and metal, glowing with runes. Different spikes, pendulums, trapdoors, and various sharp implements litter the room. Shock pads and fire-spitters adorn the walls and floor. I even catch a glimpse of a few purple tentacles slipping out of sight. What is it with this city and tentacles?

    "What?...Wrong idea..." I gasp out past the fiery razors of pain that scrape against my throat with every word. The ringing in my ears has subsided to a tolerable level, but the spasms and blistering agony blooming across my entire being has not. Unfortunately.

    "It worked!" the hairy man shouts with glee. He rubbed his hands together with wild eyes. "It actually worked. I told them I wasn''t going to end up like Corval. But none of them believed me! Well that will show them," he exclaims. He runs a hand through hair that''s as black as my heart; a stark contrast to his pristine suit. Why don''t you step on the other side of that blast shield and we''ll see how clean your suit stays, pal.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    (yes, rip him asunder. consume and annihilate!) My hands instinctively clench, and I force breath out in ragged gasps. Every part of me screams to follow my instincts and obey, but I can''t. I can''t. What will I become if I do? (stronger. better.) Psychotic. Murderous. (free) Trapped.

    "So my job''s done now, right?" It''s difficult to see the new speaker from my position. I strain, and amidst the inferno of torment that ensues, manage to shift myself slightly.

    "The job''s not done until I say so, Ms. Piper," the man retorts sharply. "I will not have some lowlife tarnish my reputation," he says with an accusatory glare at me. The newcomer, Ms. Piper, crosses her arms. She rolls her eyes and blows a strand of sunburst orange hair out of her face.

    "Whatever you say, Dickweed," she mutters. One of her hands drops to a flute by her side, tucked into a dark leather belt.

    "It''s Dickwed," the man corrects, pronouncing the "w" as a "v", and the "e" as a "u".

    "Not much better," Piper says. Despite myself, I smirk.

    "Ex...actly," I pant. Dickwed frowns and straightens his bowtie.

    "Summon the security golems and search the building. There are bound to be others," he orders. Piper throws up a sloppy salute, and turns to leave, her chlorophyll green vest catching the light of the shock pads.

    "No need," Esilea rumbles from the doorway, just as an arrow flies toward my captors.

    A concussive wave of sound reminiscent of drums being viciously torn apart blasts out from Piper''s hands. The force shreds the arrow nearly into dust as several security golems roll out from various secret entrances. Seven hells, how prepared was this guy?

    "You''re lucky we evacuated everyone early," Icarus whispers from beside me. I jump, which turns out to be a bad move on my part, as all of my bones try and slam into each other at once. "Otherwise who knows what they would''ve done to you?"

    "I had it handled," I protest, turning my body inch by agonizing inch to face the young inventor. He wipes sweat from his brow and begins taking various bottles and devices out of Esilea''s satchel.

    "I hate magic," he grumbles. A small puff of sparks flies up from one of the vials. Fortunately, there''s no hair on him to burn off.

    "Alert the board at once!" Dickwed screams into a small gem on his lapel. "Alert everyone! We have intruders!" He turns his frantic gaze to the battle before him.

    Esilea and Piper are trying to play "tag, you''re dead" at nearly inhuman speeds. Actually, make that definitely inhuman speeds. Arrows, javelins, and even the occasional sword are all deflected or broken by concussive sound waves that threaten to ruin my hearing. Again.

    However, Piper can''t land a solid hit on the experienced Amazonian warrior, as she deftly dodges and makes expert use of her shield. One screeching wave of sound tears up the floor in front of Esilea, who leaps and pirouettes in mid-air over the tidal wave of wooden shrapnel.

    She''s finally close enough to land a hit, and slams her buckler against the mage. No, that''s not right. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut-Piper is a Muse, fighting with sound. Goddam. God. Damn.

    One of the walls suddenly catches fire, and a security golem lets out a series of metallic screeches and collapses on the floor. The Wyvern''s whip snakes out from the ceiling and coils around another unfortunate mechanical adversary. Thank the gods for good timing.

    "Almost got it..." Icarus mumbles, sprinkling powder along the magical seals while casting furtive glances at the battle. He and Dickwed seem to have the same idea: it''s time to go.

    "Hey, Icarus?" I ask as I take my eyes off the battle. Not that several women fighting to the death isn''t entertaining or anything. But looking past the invasive demon tormenting my body, and immense pain coiling along every cell, a small detail peeks it''s head through.

    "What?" He doesn''t take his eyes off a particularly chilly looking purple flask.

    "When are the explosives supposed to go off?" I inquire, trying to quell the rising tide of panic in my chest.

    "6:30. I set them at 5:43; we have almost an hour," he says and shows me a pocket-watch he pulls from Esilea''s eternal handbag.

    "Mhm, great," I say. The panic has fully infected my voice. "Except that it''s 5:29 right now."

    Icarus finally looks up. "That''s not possible!" he says and checks the watch again, almost letting a bubbling vial fall off his lap.

    "Did you account for the time zone?" He goes deadly quiet. Metal clashes against metal behind us, torrents of sound and chaos tearing the room apart. A destructive symphony, and we''re about to experience the crescendo.

    I raise my voice over the cacophony of violence. "You idiot!" I shout while Icarus quickly begins stoppering potions and shoving them back into the satchel. "You have to account for the time z-" BOOM!

 Chapter 20.1: Aftershock

    Zosingh scrambled over her sister''s legs and barely avoided tripping over the shaggy mass of fur plopped in the center of the room. Despite her care, however, her small foot still came down on her dog''s coal-colored tail.

    "Aroo!" the large mammal shouted and stood up abruptly, his large ears perked. As you can imagine, Zosingh was sent sprawling onto the dirt floor.

    "Tch! Karuth!" she scolded after dusting herself off. "You did that on purpose, didn''t you?" Karuth''s head tilted to one side, causing his now relaxed ears to flop. Despite her best efforts at imitating her mother''s stern voice, Zosingh felt a small peel at her lips. "I''m sorry for stepping on your tail," she said. The little girl readjusted her belt while her dog turned his attention from his owner to something much more pressing: the aforementioned "tail".

    "You''re hopeless," Zosingh muttered with a shake of her head. Her short hair whipped in front of her crow-black eyes for a second as her furry companion began chasing his own tail. She frowned¡ªthere surely was something philosophical in the action, wasn''t there? Just as she was close to reaching a conclusion to such a quandary...her stomach grumbled.

    Food! her body screamed, drawing away her attention. It was useless to argue with herself, which only left her one course of action: eat. Not that there would be anything here. She would have to go to the market first. She shook out her coin purse and counted the tiks as she placed each sliver of gold carefully back in the leather pouch. The stalls wouldn''t have the same "fresh" goods as they did on weekends, but she should be able to haggle for bread. While many merchants had steeled their hearts to the sight of starving children like Zosingh, the resourceful child''s charisma was extraordinary. And her hands were quicker.

    "Daust!" her mother called from atop her perch on the rickety kitchen stool. The older woman tucked a strand of charcoal hair behind where her left ear would have been. It fell back in place and she blew it out of her face while she hammered nails into the aged wood and concrete walls.

    "Yes, unchan?" Zosingh replied as she peered her head around the corner into the second room within their abode. Her mom set the rusted hammer down on the bed next to the stove and cast her piercing gaze at her eldest child.

    "You''re not going to market, are you?" she inquired.

    "...no?" Zosingh said while she hid most of her body behind the corner. You had to be ready to bolt at a moment''s notice in her house. Running to market was better than staying home and helping cook stew, or being told to watch her little sister. Again.

    "Don''t lie to me Zoi!" her mother snapped. She grabbed a stained shelf for support as the uneven stool wobbled precariously.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Fine, yes I''m going to market," she said with a roll of her crescent eyes. "Do you need something?"

    "I need my daughter to be back before sundown," the older woman admonished. "You were out past moonrise last week! I want your feet in my house by 6:00 tonight, no later, you hear me?" Zosingh nodded and turned to the door. "You hear me?" her mother called out again.

    "Yes unchan!" the little girl shouted before slamming the front door shut. The mother sighed and shook her head, looking to the clock on the wall.

    "Back by six," she reminded herself in a whisper.

    ||||||||||

    "That''s three tiks," Jaerbuk grumbled from behind his stall.

    "C''mon Jaer!" Zosingh pleaded. "Don''t you have any old bread for less?"

    "Three tiks," the baker replied without looking up from cleaning his nails. Not that the dull knife he was using helped, but the motion was relaxing. Or, it was until the urchin showed up.

    "Bread was two tiks last harvest!" the young girl complained.

    "Inflation." He could also have said, "supply and demand" or "refugees", and it would have meant the same thing: tough shit.

    Zosingh scowled, causing her black eyebrows to caterpillar crawl against her dusty bay-bark colored skin. She had learned those excuses by heart come her sixth birthday; that was five years ago. She was wiser now. Seven hells, she was practically an adult! Not that her mother thought so. Technically she still another six or seven years to go before she was really an adult. But that didn''t mean she couldn''t get a head start! And what were adults good at? Haggling.

    "We both know you can afford to sell it at two tiks," she said. The short girl leaned in closer, holding her breath against the scent of flower and garlic that rose up in waves off of Jaerbuk. "Which you can use to take Hersta out to a nice dinner." The baker immediately looked up and slammed his thick hands down on the wooden stall counter.

    "You shut your mouth!" he shouted.

    "Shh!" she chided. "Lots of eyes," Zosingh warned. The baker seemed to notice a few refugees had turned their gazes to him. He avoided looking at their sickly pale skin, and turned his attention back to the little girl, who was talking once again. Great. "So how about we do this?" She plucked the dull knife from his loose grasp before he could react. She twirled it between her scarred fingers with practiced ease. Knife play, age eight. "I don''t tell your wife about Hersta, and you give me the ''local discount''."

    "Fine," Jaerbuk reluctantly consented after mulling it over. Zosingh slapped down two dented tiks with a toothy smile that nearly split her face, and grabbed the loaf of bread from his stall before he could blink.

    "Don''t take it too hard, okay? Besides," she leaned in, "there are plenty of foreigners to charge four tiks for bread. Five for cakes." And with that, the young blackmailer disappeared into the throng of shoppers.

    Jaerbuk leaned back in his uncomfortable hard wood chair with a sigh and mopped sweat from his brow with a used handkerchief.

    "Conned by a child," he muttered with a shake of his head. "She''s going to grow up to be trouble. Hell, she''s already trouble," the old baker said with a snort. Suddenly, he stood up, his forearms bulging as he shoved his chair back. "Hey, you! Pay up or stop breathing your plague breath on my bread!" The Kingdom refugee skittered back frantically and pulled his cloak tighter against his thin body. "Damn refugees..." Jaerbuk grumbled.

 Chapter 20.2: Aftershock

    "Mm, delicious!" Zosingh exclaimed quietly with a content smack of her lips. She finished off the last of her bread and licked the crumbs off her fingers. She finished her quick meal with a short prayer to Ozwiena while keeping her eyes out for trouble. Just because she was thankful to the goddess didn''t mean she would stoop her head and close her eyes to offer gratitude. Piety on the move was essential in the Malorian streets.

    Her mother would have offered thanks to Svarozhich for the bread. Since her mother worked with craftmen and forges, she obviously showed devotion to a god of fire. Zosingh, however, was partial to the goddess of voice. It was the power of words that got the discount on bread, after all. She liked to offer prayers and the occasional slice of meat to a certain seven-headed warrior god, just in case push ever came to shove. Because in the middle of a fight, who wouldn''t want seven pairs of friendly eyes watching their back?

    "Um, excuse me...do you have any bread left?" a timid voice called out to her. She turned in the direction of the voice and spotted a young woman, probably only a few years older than herself. Zosingh looked the scrawny girl up and down with a calculating gaze. The girl returned the look, her wide eyes pausing at the large bite marks and scars on Zosingh''s legs before coming back to her eyes.

    "Nope," Zosingh said dismissively, and began walking again.

    "Please! I don''t need much! Just a little."

    "I don''t have any," Zosingh said again, this time with firmness.

    "I don''t have money, I can''t afford¡ª"

    "Not my problem," she said, stopping and pushing the girl back. Callousness, age nine. It only takes feeding one hungry alley dog to realize not every pet is like Karuth. Some don''t want rice bake scraps, but flesh. "Go beg to a priest, or somebody who cares." The other girl recoiled in shock, tears springing to her eyes.

    "Why are you so mean?" the older girl demanded.

    "Because that''s the way it is. We both know you don''t survive here by being nice."

    "My family...they lost everything," the older girl mumbled with a downcast gaze. Zosingh''s rude veneer nearly cracked, but the small girl steeled herself. No, you can''t back down, she thought. She remembered the sight of her mother''s missing ear, and her sister''s disfigured foot. I won''t be another fool.

    "Not. My. Problem," Zosingh said and punctuated each word with a shove. "Leave me alone." She turned her back on the other girl, and began to walk towards a side street. Which, it turned out, was a bad idea.

    Something hard cracked against her head, and she stumbled to the ground. She instinctively felt the back of her head, and her hand came back covered in blood. Zosingh fought the urge to vomit at the sight, and swallowed hard. She wasn''t going to waste fresh bread.

    The older girl stood at the edge of the road, a jagged rock held in her hand. She was breathing heavy, with a wild look in her eyes.

    "Hey, listen," Zosingh cautioned while making her unsteady way to her feet. Though she prayed to gods of war, that didn''t mean she could fight. Her mother''s pacifism was a difficult yoke to shake. "It''s nothing personal, I promise."

    "It''s personal for me!" the other girl shouted and threw another rock at Zosingh. The smaller child narrowly avoided the sharp projectile. Her quick eyes hastily scanned her environment for an escape route. The only option seemed to be behind her. So, she kept backpedaling and dodging, unwilling to turn her back. The other girl had to run out of rocks eventually.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    "Hey!" Zosingh shouted as one stone made contact with her exposed shins. She could practically feel her bones dent. "You could really hurt somebody."

    "Oh I hadn''t noticed," the older girl replied with a sick smile. "But..." she paused for a moment, though Zosingh continued backing away. "Then again, isn''t that how it is? We don''t survive by being nice, after all." And with that, the older girl started a full out sprint towards Zosingh down the street.

    Okay, now I can run. The small girl raced down the cracked side road. She struggled to maintain her balance on the loose stones and skittered around the corner. Her shoulder smacked against a crumbling building wall, but that didn''t stop her. Zosingh threw down a trash can and took out Jaerbuk''s small knife. She cut a clothes line, and took a moment to look behind her.

    Something crashed into her, sending her sprawling into an alley. The rough road scraped away at her skin, and she gingerly picked herself up. She winced as she dusted gravel off her wounds.

    A young man was making his way to his feet, a large knife clutched in one of his hands. Zosingh felt tears stinging her eyes. This wasn''t how it was supposed to be! A quick trip to the market, that was all. Why did things have to constantly be like this?

    "Why does the world hate my family?" she hiccupped.

    "You got her, Matsen!" the older girl exclaimed after rounding the corner.

    "Obviously," the pale boy said with a snort. "Not everybody is as slow as you, Dahli."

    "It''s this damn dress," Dahli said indignantly and ripped parts of the cheap fabric away at her knees.

    "Hold up, you didn''t tell me our mark was a kitsune," Matsen said. Zosingh felt the top of her head. Her fingers brushed dried blood and dirt, and came into contact with her dark, fluffy ears. Her headband lay discarded down the alley, knocked off by Matsen''s tackle. The older boy''s eyes gleamed in the coming twilight.

    "We hadn''t picked out a mark, dimwit," Dahli snapped. She sighed and grabbed the dagger from her partner. "Let''s just get this over with. If she''s hiding it, that means she''s somebody''s."

    "She''s a dark kitsune," Matsen pointed out and took the knife back. "She''s only good to a slaver. Maybe a gladiator pit if the owner has an eccentric taste."

    "You mean like¡ª"

    Zosingh didn''t give the two teens a chance to finish their statement; she had heard enough. Nothing good would come out staying here. She had quietly been pushing down her fear and tears over the past minute or so. She imagined her mother, crying at the loss of her daughter. Would the authorities even bring her mother her body? Would there be a body?

    I''m not about to find out, the little girl decided. She grabbed a reeking canvas bag and tossed it with all her might. It hit Dahli in the chest and she collapsed back. Matsen turned his gaze to the little girl, who was charging at him. He swing the knife and cut her across one of her shoulders. She screamed and fell, plunging her small dagger into his thigh.

    Sorry mom! she thought. She crawled between the legs of Matsen, trying to ignore his screams. She swiped her tears and kicked Dahli''s nose as the older girl tried to stand. Sorry! she apologized again. Please forgive me for disappointing you, she silently prayed to her mother. Zosingh raced out of the alley and into the main street, snot running down her chin and mixing with the salt of her tears.

    "Oh gods oh gods," she muttered as she ran. She weaved in and out of people. Somebody reached out to her and she practically dove in the opposite direction. Can''t trust anybody. Who knows who else there is? She looked around, paranoia welling up within her. There were so many people, so many people. Somehow she had ended up in the financial district of the city, surrounded on all sides by busy people and tall buildings. A large clock was nearing 5:30.

    Be back by six, her mother''s voice warned inside her head.

    "There she is!" Zosingh turned at the sharp edge of Matsen''s voice cutting through the busy crowd. She started backing away and shook her head, dark ears wagging.

    "Please, no. Please!" People were staring now, and whispering. The world was expanding and contracting at the same time, pulling her apart. Why did this have to happen? "Just leave me al¡ª" BOOM!

 Chapter 20.3: Aftershock

    "There she is!" Zosingh turned at the sharp edge of Matsens voice cutting through the busy crowd. She started backing away and shook her head, dark ears wagging.

    "Please, no. Please!" People were staring now, and whispering. The world was expanding and contracting at the same time, pulling her apart. Why did this have to happen? "Just leave me al¡ª" BOOM!

    ||||||||||

    She couldnt move. She couldnt breathe. What was going on? She tried to turn and felt jagged edges and unrelenting stone press against her. She couldnt move! Oh gods no, please no! Zosingh struggled against her bonds in the darkness. Every panicked inhale brought more dust into her lungs, choking her.

    Her world erupted in an explosion of light and noise. Her small body was flung through the air with the debris. Wooden and stone shrapnel shredded against her skin, causing innumerable cuts. She screamed, but couldnt hear it. Zosingh finally came to a stop against the remains of a collapsed building. Before she could move, a thick metal beam came careening towards her with a screech that broke the deafening silence in her ears.

    "Nooooo!" she heard herself shout before it came down on her. The heated metal support beam slammed down onto her legs and the middle of her torso. The pain was blinding and she felt herself slip into nothingness. But it didnt end.

    She gasped for air and looked around frantically. The pain had dulled and she fought against her urge to vomit. Mustering up her courage, she looked down at herself, and lost all control. Her only meal that day came up and splattered against her chest, running down her neck.

    It mixed with the blood that was steadily pooling out around her. She was missing a large section of her stomach, trapped under the metal beam. The small child turned her eyes away from it, but what she saw next was even worse.

    Her right arm was missing.

    "Gods stop it!" she screamed. Her entire body shook, but it only brought the pain back to life. "Somebody help me!" Her throat went raw from screaming, but nobody came. The tears flowed freely and she thrashed around.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I dont want to die, she pleaded to whatever gods were listening. Please, I dont want to die! She shook her head and tried once more to move, but only felt colder.

    "Mommy," she muttered as she fought to keep her eyes open. "I dont want to die," she hiccupped and choked on the pain welling up in her throat. "I want you here. Please. Please! SOMEBODY!" she screamed until her voice broke.

    "Amrgghh," came a low growl by way of response. Zosingh forced herself to ignore the screams of others trapped like her, and looked to her right. She looked past the fires and smoke, past the dismembered bodies and her own mutilation. She looked to the pale man with a scraggly beard who had an eye hanging out of his socket. It swung like a pendulum, while gore and entrails spilled out of his stomach. His unearthly gasp scratched against the gashes in his throat. His decayed teeth clacked against each other as the undead creation clawed its way across the rubble to her. And just when she thought it was gone, Zosingh found her voice again.

    "Somebody help me!" she shouted. Somebody!"

    "..have to go." She desperately twisted her neck and was able to spot a group of people quickly leaving the scene.

    "Help me!" she called to them. She raised her one remaining hand. Her thumb was bent back to her but she still reached out. Maybe they could save her. They had to!

    A man in a mask turned to her. He stopped for the briefest moment, and a tall woman followed suit. She had a bald man slung over her shoulder.

    "Move it!" a scaly woman snapped, dragging the man.

    "We cant leave her!" the tall woman exclaimed.

    "Please!" Zosingh shouted. The masked man shook his head and began moving again.

    "We have to go," he insisted, and helped the scaly woman drag the tall one away.

    "Im sorry!" the tall woman shouted. Zosingh screamed in frustration. She screamed in hate and pain and sadness. She tried screaming her life away but her mind stubbornly stuck to consciousness, even as her blood spilled out from her.

    "Ghasssshhh," the ghoul rasped. Zosingh instinctively jerked her stump away as the undead corpses fingers curled against her sensitive nerves and muscle. It seemed to only grow bolder as her hot blood gushed against its cold, torn skin.

    "No," she moaned, trying to move away. Her tears left dark streaks down her face, her lips trembling. The whole world was spinning, but she couldnt ignore the creature as it drew closer. She shook her head faster, desperately trying to pull away. Every remaining muscle in her body fought to get away, and despite the pain, she didnt slip back into darkness. The ghoul inched closer, its putrid stench swirling around her.

    She looked it in its one good eye, though it was dull and unseeing.

    "Please dont," she whispered with the last of her strength. But it wasnt listening. It was feasting.

 Chapter 21.1: Aftershock å°¾

    "It''s a pleasure to meet you. Again." All at once, out of darkness, a room materialized around me. I look around and place a trembling hand on the coffee table in front of me. It feels solid, a little rough; cold. It has the slightest imperfection on the far right corner that keeps it from being a true square. It feels...real. But this all...this can''t be real.

    "Namonai." That same voice from before. Where have I heard that voice before? "LOOK AT ME BOY!" My head snaps up without my consent, and my eyes lock onto the speaker.

    "...Mutovinatum?" I ask. My throat is hoarse, and a pitcher of lemonade appears on the coffee table, along with a tall champagne flute. I always loved drinking from fancy glasses. I pour myself some without thinking and take a sip. Gods I haven''t had real lemonade in forever.

    The demon is larger than the last time I saw him. I look down at my hands and then back up at the shadow creature. I should be freaking out, right? I should be worried, and questioning. I should be concerned. But gods am I tired. So I sip at the lemonade and sigh, letting myself sink into the plush couch cushions behind me. I hope I''m dead.

    My muscles stiffen for a brief moment at that thought, but then I relax again. I swirl the translucent off-yellow liquid around in my glass. It''s true: I hope I''m dead. I hope this is the heaven for gods, and it''s all over. Or hell. Anything but going back to reality.

    "I love the look you get when you''re lost in thought," the demon says softly. He (it?) sets his chin atop his palm, and his messy red smile grows wider. "It''s so...cute." Several tentacles of shadow appear from the couch cushions and caress my shoulders. I shift away and swallow awkwardly. I avoid eye contact with Mutovinatum and the shadows.

    "I don''t like tentacles," I say quietly. The demon sits up straighter and snaps his fingers, instantly removing the dark tendrils from existence. "Thank you."

    "Of course," he says with a nod. We sit in silence while I drink my lemonade, and he looks through me. It doesn''t matter if he has eyes, I can feel his gaze exploring every inch of my body, inside and out. It''s...intensely uncomfortable.

    "Namonai!" A small voice shouts out from somewhere to my left. I shift my focus away from the demon, but large walls suddenly spring up. They''re accompanied by a roof and fireplace, as well as soft rugs on the floors, and wooden paneling laying itself out on the bare walls.

    "No distractions here," Mutovinatum says with a small chuckle. "Just the two of us."

    "Okay," I say with a shrug and prop my feet up on the coffee table. I kick off my boots and wiggle my toes, letting the warm air roll over my exposed skin. This is bliss, and I''m okay with not being distracted from it. I empty my flute of lemonade and lean forward, setting it down with a soft clink. My feet slip off the coffee table and I curl my toes in the soft rug beneath me. "So...what now?"The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "I thought we could talk," Mutovinatum says. "More lemonade?" Another full glass appears, but I shake my head.

    "No thanks." It disappears instantly and the shadow entity nods. "To be honest, I never figured you were the kind of guy to talk things out. You always seemed the more..." I stab the air several times with an imaginary dagger and mime ripping the flesh from a pathetic enemy, barely even worth my time or notice. "Well, that type."

    "You''re not wrong," Mutovinatum says and leans back. He folds his arms across his chest. "But that never really works out for me, does it? I''m too splintered across the cosmos to overpower my enemies. However, if I regroup myself, I risk being destroyed in one fell swoop. Violence begets violence, and all that," he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So this time, I thought I''d ask nicely for what I wanted."

    I raise an eyebrow and sigh. Ah, he''s a shameless whore after all, eh? A small smile plays across my lips and I tousle my unkempt locks¡ªjust my type. "And what is it that you want?" The shadow demon grins back at me.

    "I want your body," he says. Before I can respond, he stands and fire erupts in the fireplace. I flinch, but he doesn''t notice. "I want to control every action you make, and I want you to stay here, in this place. I want you to be safe while I finally live. Give me the power of a god," he says. With each statement, Mutoinvatum moves closer to me. He slinks onto my lap and straddles me, slipping his inky black arms around my shoulders. His bright red mouth is inches from my face. "I want you to stay here, forever...please?"

    I gingerly grab his wrists and unwrap them from around me. "I appreciate the offer, Mutovinatum. Really, this is great." I gesture to the living space around us. "Top notch, really. You have a big future in luxury spas and resorts. But I''m not giving up my body." His messy smile literally turns upside down with a sharp crack. Or is it his entire head that rotated?

    "...please?" he asks quietly. I sigh and shake my head.

    "My final answer is no. It''s been a real trip with you these past couple of days. I''ve enjoyed the company. Well," I pause and look away, "until I didn''t. Thank you for the offer, but I think it''s time you leave." On cue, a soft blue door appears in the middle of one of the walls. This is my mind palace, isn''t it? He''s only a squatter; I''m the one with the real power here. Hopefully.

    Mutovinatum leaps off my lap and upturns the coffee table. "But I asked nicely!" he shouts. He slings the table against the wall and it shatters into nothingness. "I asked you! I didn''t take it, I asked. Why won''t you give it to me?" He rounds on me and slams his palms down on either side of me. "WHY?!"

    I hold up two fingers and slide out from under his arms. "Two reasons. One, you don''t respect personal space." Shadows try and curl around my ankles as I back towards the light blue door. Case and point. I yank my feet up forcibly with every step like I''m wading through mud. "And second? I''m pretty sure that you''re literal, actual, cancer. And I do not look good bald, trust me." With that, I kick the door behind me hard. I dive out of the room as Mutovinatum roars in rage behind me. Well, it was nice while it lasted, right?

 Chapter 21.2: Aftershock å°¾

    I kick the door behind me hard. I dive out of the room as Mutovinatum roars in rage behind me. Well, it was nice while it lasted, right?

    ||||||||||

    I slam into a rogue piece of the Ismar Trading Co. headquarters. I ricochet off the stone and concrete, spiraling through the air. Wind whips around me, blowing hot hair into my many wounds. The last vestiges of my clothes that weren''t incinerated billow around me. Maybe not "billow". "Flutter weakly like a butterfly stricken with raging AIDs" would be a more apt description. And I''m nothing if not a man of expansive vocabularic skill and culture; also intense dastardly charm. But that''s neither here nor there.

    The pain of my physical body hits me all at once. It''s too overwhelming to elicit even a groan from me. My entire body simultaneously tenses and goes limp repeatedly as I fall through the air. I feel like a misplaced contradiction, hurtling towards my inevitable demise. A piece of sharp metal hurtles past me, cutting me across my back. Something wraps around my waist and I''m yanked away from another large chunk of rubble. Concrete falls down and hits Wikolia''s whip, which unwraps from my waist. I collide with the Wyvern in mid-air and we spin around, barely managing to avoid stone shrapnel flying past us. We do not, however, avoid a large slab of blast shield.

    "Seven hells!" I shout. My words are nearly drowned out by the screams of those being crushed and burned in equal parts below, and around us. Thankfully, I was in choir for a brief stint as a child, and can be very loud when I need to be. The impact with the rapidly rotating blast shield shocked my system into full-on adrenaline overdrive. "Hang on," I warn Wikolia.

    "Like I would let go!" she shrieks in hysteria. I look over at her, and nearly lose my grip on the blast shield. The Wyvern...has no eyes. Two empty sockets look like they were gouged out by a great many claws and teeth. I take my eyes off the blind assassin and look down at the rapidly approaching ground. This is going to hurt.

    As the blast shield hits the ground, I leap off with Wikolia before our bodies are jarred by the impact. I hold her tight against me, and feel my body heat radiated back by her scales. I spin in the air and collide with a mostly shattered wall. I skip across the rubble and charred bodies like a stone before finally coming to a rest in cluster of corpses. I untangle myself from seared limbs and blackened wood. Looks like today was a bad day to protest government, guys.

    I collapse almost as immediately as I stand, my injuries finally threatening to catch up to me. I drop onto my hands and knees. My palm brushes across a discarded toy sword, and I fight back the vomit. Come on Namonai, don''t give in. I look around and see small bodies mixed in with the larger. A few even have most of their skin, and one man whose eyes weren''t melted by the explosion looks at the sky without seeing. The gravity of the situation threatens to crush me, and I curl into a ball while ashes flutter down like snow.

    "Cover me and bury me," I whisper. Why did I have to come back? Why didn''t I stay in my head?

    "We don''t have time to mourn Namonai," Wikolia hisses.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    "I can''t," I whisper.

    "Get up, we have to go!"

    "I''m tired!" I snap. I sit up and grimace, clutching my ribs. I glare at the eyeless Wyvern. "I''m tired of doing this again, and again. Live a century, endure a calamity. Look around you Wikolia!" I gesture around, and try to tune out the whimpers of the last few desperately clinging to life. "Everyone dies, and I''ve stomached as much as I can. If I have to see something like this again...it''ll choke me."

    She remains silent for a moment. The soft crackling of rogue fires add a hellish backdrop to the screams and cries of those unlucky enough to survive.

    "This smells like home," she says and sits next to me while I hug my knees. "How long have you been alive, Namonai?"

    "Nearly a decallenium," I respond after a moment. Wikolia nods and flicks her tail around my thigh.

    "I was one of the first Night Stalkers. Save a few, I am one of the eldest of my kind, and have been alive nearly as long as death has existed. When there are unruly souls, there need to be those who keep them in line. A warden of the Underworld gets no rest, no reprieve." She flicks her tongue out, and her voice nearly drops too quiet to hear. "No friends or family. No love. Time does not exist for me. This," she waves out to the countless souls in suffering, "is but a drop in my life''s bucket. I was warden when Abel was slain, and I will be warden when you pass too, Namonai. We can go against the grain, but at a price." She turns to me, looking at me with her empty eye sockets.

    I ponder her words and let them sink in. "What did you rebel for?"

    She sighs and leans back on her palms, bones crunching under her. "What else but love?"

    "And the price was your eyes?"

    Wikolia snorts. "My punishment is dealing with your endless barrage of tasteless comments and shameless insinuations." But she says it with a small smile, and I feel the corners of my mouth turn. I accept her extended claw and she pulls me to my feet. She flicks her tongue out and I look at the massive destruction laid waste by our explosives.

    The financial district of Malor looks like a huge bite has been taken out of it, reducing its orderly sprawl by a fifth. There must have been magical components in those explosives Khalil gave us. Combined with the safety violations, it''s a wonder there''s anything left standing at all.

    "I can''t believe we did this," I say quietly. Wikolia nods and wraps a new cloth around her eye sockets.

    "Let us remember it, and make a difference. If we fall back into our old patterns, it will have been for nothing. That," she points to the large field of bodies and rubble, "will have been for nothing." She''s right; this has to mean something. I have to change, or this will happen again, and I''ll spend another ten thousand years waiting for death.

    "Namonai!" The Wyvern and I turn towards the sound of a familiar voice. Esilea is navigating the field of death with an unconscious Icarus slung over her shoulder.

    "It''s good to see you''re alive, Esilea," Wikolia says.

    "You too," she says, and I feel she means it. Surrounded by corpses, you don''t get to pick and choose your friends. The Amazonian avoids looking at the collapsed buildings and burnt bodies. But the way she''s constantly wiping moisture from her eyes means she can''t block out the screams either. We lock eyes for a moment, and she looks away.

    "I''m¡ª"

    "I''m sorry," I blurt out and interrupt her. "These have been a rough couple of days for all of us. And I haven''t made that easier. I''m sorry. A team has to trust each other."

    "Are you sure?" Esilea asks. I don''t blame her for being suspicious. Hell, I don''t even know myself. What I do know is that I have something to prove; not just to myself, but to those three as well. Maybe Ghelly and Naiomi too.

    "Positive. But we have to go."

    "Help me!" I turned and spotted a small girl trapped under a large metal beam. She extends a broken hand out to us, and I feel my spirit collapse in my body. I did this. Gods, we''re monsters, aren''t we?

 Chapter 21.3: Aftershock å°¾

    "Help me!" I turned and spotted a small girl trapped under a large metal beam. She extended a broken hand out to us, and I felt my spirit collapse in my body. I did this. Gods, we''re monsters, aren''t we? The worst part is: we have to leave her. The authorities are bound to show up, and we can''t make a difference if we''re behind bars, or dead.

    "Move it!" Wikolia urges and grabs my arm. She knows it too, and I square my shoulders.

    "We can''t just leave her," Esilea demands. I shake my head and force myself to swallow. This, or worse, will happen again if we stay here. We can''t let one girl compromise us...even though we shouldn''t have to choose.

    "We have to go," I insist. Wikolia helps me drag Esilea away, and the Amazon is too tired to fight.

    "I''m sorry!" Esilea shouts. We hear the small girl let out a heart-rending scream from behind us. My knees buckle, but Esilea manages to support me, and the Wyvern helps us continue walking. We keep walking until we can''t hear the screams anymore; we were walking for a while.

    ||||||||||

    Esilea lowers Icarus to the ground and props him against a bag of trash. My throat aches for water, and I can tell the others are equally as parched. We just have to make it back to the Jungle and we should be clear. If we''re not at the Burnt Rice Tavern by the end of the night...I don''t like to think what will happen to us. Inari''s agents will hit hard tonight, looking for any leads on the Ismar Trading Co. bombing. However, not even Kitsune normally patrol the Jungle.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "What are we going to do about this?" I ask and squat next to Esilea. "You lost your satchel, Wikolia''s whip was crushed. Alarice might not even pay us."

    "She owes us," Wikolia says. She flicks her tongue out and looks around us, nearly turning her head 180-degrees. "Debts have to be paid."

    "Indeed they do." The Wyvern turns and swipes at Dickwed with her claws, but she''s blasted back by a screeching slash of sound. It slices off her left hand in the process, and sends her crashing into the side of a building. Scales scrape off her skin and clink to the ground like dark emeralds.

    Piper drops down off an awning and lashes out with a quaking thunderous blast that launches Esilea through a window. I raise up both my hands and step in front of Icarus.

    "You ruined my life!" Dickwed shouts, his veins popping purple near his forehead.

    "You did the same to others," I reply. I keep my voice calm, despite my pounding heart. Piper''s murderous glare isn''t helping either.

    "I don''t give a shit!" the hairy manager shouts. "My reputation is completely shattered, and it''s all your fault." My eyes flick between Dickwed, Piper, and my incapacitated companions. I could try and take them both on, but Dickwed somehow managed to find Esilea''s satchel in the rubble. And Piper is a walking sonic cannon. Of course, there is one other thing, but I really don''t want to do it. I see Dickwed''s eyes skitter from the satchel, to Icarus, and linger for a moment. Ah shit, I have to do the thing.

    I recklessly lunge at Dickwed, who lets out a surprised shout. Piper steps in and slams her knee into my chest, and cracks her elbow against my back, throwing a bit of sonic force in there for good measure. I collapse on the ground and look up, my vision beginning to darken.

    "You''ll pay for that,"Dickwed sneers, and spits on me. Which means I''m going to get kidnapped. Again.

 Chapter 22.1: Old Habits

    ¡°We have got to stop meeting like this. What, with you drunk on pain and cosmic confusion, and me being¡­well, me¡ªit¡¯s highly inconvenient, Namonai.¡± Consciousness slips through my tenuous grasp on reality, slithering around me like an eel. Or a snake? It definitely feels slimy. While the rest of my body slowly regains pinpricks of feeling, my eyes blink open to soft light, and dark tentacles wrapped around my shoulders. I let out a low groan of frustration, and Mutovinatum nods with what I can only assume is mock sympathy.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I know, everything hurts. But that can all get better if you let me help you,¡± he says. I try to recoil from the darkness pressing against me, but my body doesn¡¯t get the memo. ¡°And I know you said you weren¡¯t interested before, but maybe now that you see what you¡¯re up against¡­¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I mutter. I manage to sit myself up straighter and look at where Mutovinatum¡¯s eyes would normally be. I try to muster up force behind my next words, but they still come out as a wheeze, each breath shaking my lungs like dead leaves. ¡°Leave me alone.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t what you really want, and you know it,¡± Mutovinatum coos. I start to sidle out from underneath him, but he¡¯s everywhere, suffocating me with his presence. ¡°I can make this all better Namonai. You just have to let me in.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already in!¡± I shout in exasperation. My head throbs splinters of pain through the pathways in my brain, and I can¡¯t tell whether it¡¯s from being knocked out, or the reverberations of my own voice. Shit, am I dehydrated?  ¡°I just want you out.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that,¡± Mutovinatum says with a small pout, which looks more threatening than his smile.

    ¡°Wha¡ªof course I mean it!¡± Immediately my vocal cords snap taught from the strain of being so loud. ¡°Ouch! Goddammit!¡± I half-wheeze past the pain. I shake my head, trying to clear the swimming visions in front of me. The world twists upside down, tilting and swirling like a top. ¡°You¡¯re a pest,¡± I spit. ¡°A leeching, parasitic whore. And,¡± I lean in close enough to smell the decay in each of his hyperventilated breaths, ¡°the thought of sharing the same space as you makes me want to eat my own skin.¡± Mutovinatum¡¯s mouth hangs open for a brief second, either from his shock, or his mounting desire to devour me. In his defense, I am quite delicious.

    ¡°Things are a little heated right now,¡± he replies. ¡°You¡¯ve said some things you don¡¯t mean, and I don¡¯t want to say anything I¡¯ll regret. Why don¡¯t you leave, and we¡¯ll talk later when we¡¯ve both had a chance to cool off.¡±

    ¡°What do you think this is?! I¡¯m never coming back.¡±

    Mutovinatum remains silent for a brief moment. Without looking at me, he speaks in a low, sharp tone. ¡°You have to sleep eventually, Namonai. You can¡¯t escape your own mind. Now,¡± I open my mouth to reply, but he has already planted a firm hand on my chest. ¡°Leave.¡±

    ||||||||||

    I suck in air, filled with the stench of dirt and disease. It smells like shit, and tastes worse going into my lungs, but it¡¯s real air.

    ¡°That bastard got the last word,¡± I gasp. My words cut like razors across my parched throat. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this shit.¡± After I get past the overwhelming stench of my current exotic locale, my other senses begin to adjust. Unfortunately for me, it still feels like Malor. No pleasure cruises for me. I shift off my back, feeling the dirt sift through my fingers, sharp rocks nicking my skin. When I finally bring my eyes up from the ground, they come face-to-face with a wide-eyed, dirty face. Well, snout is more accurate.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    With this nightmarish image, comes an equally nightmarish revelation: there are hands on me. Multiple pairs of clawed, dirty, disgusting hands covered in dirt gripping my clothes tightly. Which, it so happens, are only halfway on.

    My brain spins through a multitude of incomplete thoughts in a second:

    I¡¯m in Malor, but where exactly? Underground, maybe?

    Who are these people? Doesn¡¯t matter, what do they want? Doesn¡¯t matter, they¡¯re trying to take from you.

    Take what?

    Rape. They¡¯re going to rape you. No. YES. They are.

    They¡¯re going to kill you after. You won¡¯t live through this. They. Are going. To kill you.

    There are so many of them, but they¡¯re not all the same. They all look like prisoners. Underground prison? Fight ring? These couple with their hands on you, they¡¯re the bold ones.

    You¡¯re in prison again, Namonai. You¡¯re back again. Goddammit! Goddamn this shit! You said you¡¯d never go back, and here are you are, repeating yourself.

    Prisoner. You¡¯re a prisoner. So are they. Stop jacking around, drop the smile, and do something.

    They¡¯re going to rape you. They¡¯re going to kill you. They might eat you. So move.

    And then I was moving.

    Reality swarms in with a rush of color, and my eardrums pop. I immediately scramble forward, tackling the snouted reptilian near my face. He hisses in shock, and I grab his skull before he can get his hands underneath me. I slam his head against the ground and grab his tongue when he shrieks in pain. Twisting as I stand, I pull hard, and throw the severed tongue at his partner.

    ¡°What the shit!¡± the greasy-haired woman yells as she quickly backpedals away. I take a running start and slide against her feat, knocking her over. I palm a fist-sized rock and crack it against her skull. The dirt eagerly soaks up the blood slithering across the ground. I crush the ridge of her nose into her face, and raise it up again.

    Someone kicks me off the girl and I whirl to smack them with the stone. A third large man grabs my wrist and knocks me flat with a single blow. I try to crawl forward but the reptilian is up, and his heel crashes into my jaw. The dull shimmer of a worn blade glints in my peripheral vision moments before I feel the weight of the large man on me. I start screaming.

    The loud cries echo through the relative silence, absorbed by the masses of immobile onlookers. Dirt wedges underneath my fingernails¡ªthe scents of earth and shit and piss nearly gag me. The big man tries to wrap a callused palm over my mouth, and I bite through his pinky.

    Hot blood gushes into my mouth and I spit it out as he rolls off of me, crying. I scramble to my feet in time to avoid being kicked in the face by the reptilian. He swings his knife at me and I dance backward, tripping over the woman¡¯s corpse. He lunges forward and I roll away, then spring at him. I land on top of him and wrestle the knife away, cracking him in the temple with my shin as I stand. Within seconds, I¡¯ve slit the big man¡¯s throat, wetting the dirt once more.

    The silent crowd looks on, tension in their shoulders and jaws. I scoop up the severed reptilian tongue and don¡¯t hesitate to pop it in my mouth, visibly chewing and swallowing. A few onlookers recoil, while most of them shift their gazes to the lizard man staggering to his feet.

    I let him shuffle towards me, hissing and gasping past the blood gurgling in his mouth. He makes a wild swing at me with one of his claws and I shift to the side, snapping his leg sideways at the knee. He screams and crumples onto his one good leg. I look at the crowd, and then toss the knife aside.

    I wet my lips with my tongue and speak for the first time. ¡°Watch.¡± I slam my knee against his snout. He lands sprawled on his back and I plant a boot on his open jaw. I grip his lower jaw in my hand and wrench hard. There¡¯s an earsplitting squeal followed by a sharp snap, and the reptilian stops moving, his severed jaw in my hand. I sit down next to the corpses and slip the knife back into my hand, prying the lizard teeth out one by one. After a few moments, the fellow prisoners begin to disperse, whispering amongst themselves.

 Chapter 22.2: Old Habits

    I sit down next to the corpses and slip the knife back into my hand, prying the lizard teeth out one by one. After a few moments, the fellow prisoners begin to disperse, whispering amongst themselves.

    Damn that was rough. Despite my apparent victory, I don¡¯t let myself relax. In here, everyone is out to get me. I can¡¯t smile, I can¡¯t joke, I can¡¯t rest. I look down at the jaw in my hands, and the pile of teeth on the ground, suppressing a sigh.

    How did it get back to this so quickly? We just said we wanted to be better, and now I¡¯m worse than before. Just to merely survive, I¡¯m going to have to be even worse than I was before. What happened to being a hero? To doing the good things?

    Was I ever really serious about becoming better? Or was it a front? It¡¯s that damn Dickwed.

    ¡°Dickwed,¡± I grumble under my breath, now working on popping the teeth out of the reptilian¡¯s top jaw. That damn little bastard put me in here. Hopefully, he was satisfied with just stuffing me in this cage. Hopefully the others are safe. Maybe...maybe if I¡¯m thinking that there¡¯s hope I can be a good person. But sometimes, good people have to do bad things.

    I tug the boots of the big man and begun cutting into them, using my teeth to pull when the knife won¡¯t do. That Piper bitch, she has it coming too, tight ass be damned. It¡¯s a shame she stuck with that rotten CEO¡ªwhat a waste. Hot gingers don¡¯t happen all the time, you know.

    Stop telling jokes and work harder. I take a few leather strips from the boots and began layering them on top of one another, working the roots of the reptilian teeth through them.

    Finish this, and then finish them. You¡¯ll escape eventually, so you have to be ready. You can¡¯t relax, you can¡¯t let go, until you¡¯re out. Then maybe you¡ª

    ¡°Hey.¡± I don¡¯t look up, but count the pairs of feet in front of me. One pair of hooves, two pairs of boots, and some dirty human feet. ¡°You look tired.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I reply shortly.

    ¡°We saw what you did there,¡± someone in a gruff voice rumbles. Good. That was kind of the point. I finish twisting the roots of the teeth through the leather, and begin working on the other strip. ¡°Not many people have that kind of reaction time.¡± I ignore the comment, and continue working. One of those dirty human feet tries to nudge me, and I quickly flick the knife around, jamming through this foot. He falls back screaming, but I don¡¯t lift my eyes.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Damnit Jacquen!¡± the same rough voice snaps. A hairy leg kneels next to me, and I try not to let the tension show in my shoulders. A monkey¡¯s paw reaches out and grips the knife, causing Jacquen to cry out again. ¡°Don¡¯t be such a little bitch,¡± the man growls, before yanking the knife out of Jacquen¡¯s foot. He wipes the blood off on the underling¡¯s pants and hands it to me, handle first. I continue working.

    ¡°As I was saying, not many people have that reaction time. For that matter, I only know one ratty little bastard who¡¯s burned to shit with those kinds of reflexes.¡± I finally pause, and lock eyes with the leader of the Dier Fiends, Marazan. ¡°And I happen to know a few people pissed at him.¡±

    ¡°Hello Namonai,¡± a voice whispers to me from behind, a blade appearing at my throat. Marazan grins as much as his beak will allow and cracks his knuckles.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got some old friends who are just dying to meet you,¡± the Dier Fiends leader growls. ¡°It¡¯s been awhile since we¡¯ve all been in the same playground, and I¡¯ve honestly missed it. It will give us an opportunity to catch up and...¡± I tune him out. The vague threats and posturing don¡¯t concern me; the knife at my throat on the other hand...that¡¯s a little more pressing. I slowly wrap the tooth-studded leather band around my hand while Marazan is talking, and his goon is attending to Jacquen.

    I slam my head backwards, and knock it against the nose of my assailant. I barely have time to catch his wrist as he brings the knife towards me. I twist around and tuck the knife-wielding hand under my arm, bringing my free hand back for a strike.

    BOOM! I go flying backwards and skip across the ground like a stone. I groan and try to sit up, but my head is still reeling. I recognize that feeling, and I hate that I do.

    ¡°Last time you heard that noise, I believe a ceiling was coming down around me. And you,¡± Chayton squats down in front of me, Marazan standing with his arms folded, ¡°were stealing from me.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know that hurts his feelings?¡± Marazan says with a hyena cackle.

    ¡°What, no comeback?¡± Chayton leans forward. ¡°No smart retort?¡± I try not to focus on his crooked teeth, and attempt to do quick calculations on the speed of the gangsters. But even as my muscles are tensing, ready for action, there¡¯s a rising need welling up. A nagging pressure that mounts towards a crescendo in the back of my brain, making my jaw ache.

    ¡°You¡¯d think after eating a tongue, he would be all ready to talk.¡±

    ¡°Maybe we should...incentivize him,¡± Chayton says with a cruel grin.

    ¡°You two make a great couple,¡± I say with a forced laugh, and the mounting pressure recedes.

    ¡°Ha! Now that¡¯s the Namonai I know and love,¡± Marazan says. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be no fun torturing you if you didn¡¯t talk back a little. Now¡ª¡±

    ¡°Attention mongrels!¡± a clear voice rings out. We all turn our attention to the left, where a large metal door is being lifted by loud clanking chains and gears. Still, the thin man dressed in deep purples and golds manages to be louder. He claps his hands and the lipstick at the edges of his mouth twist high into a deprived smile. ¡°IIIIIIT¡¯S SHOWTIIIIME!¡±

 Chapter 23.1: Showtime!

    ¡°Come on, chop chop!¡± the thin man cries, gesturing to prisoners. Each one he points at is grabbed by a large guard, and ushered out through the open metal door. Some of the prisoners¡ªnew ones, by the looks of it¡ªresist, but they¡¯re quickly disposed of.

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t go!¡± a young man shouts, breaking free of the guard and racing towards the announcer. He pulls a knife from his loose jacket and lets out a loud cry.

    ¡°Bet you some fried rat tail he leaves a scratch,¡± Marazan rumbles with a nod to the youth.

    ¡°You want to gamble, against me?¡± Chayton asks incredulously. After the merest fraction of a second, he smiles. ¡°Deal.¡± Chayton shakes one of Marazan¡¯s monkey paws.

    ¡°Bastard!¡± the young man yells, lunging forward with his small knife. The announcer gives the guards an almost imperceptible shake of the head, and smiles at his attacker. The young man sinks his blade into the announcer¡¯s chest, who stumbles back in shock, before wordlessly collapsing. His attacker looks warily at the guards, who haven¡¯t moved a muscle. He turns to the crowd of prisoners and cheers, but no one makes a sound.

    ¡°What a good show, young man,¡± the announcer says, rising up from the ground. He frowns at the dirt on his costume and flicks it off, casually pulling the knife out of his chest. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d feed you to the Grootslang, but I¡¯m feeling merciful today. After all, red really brings out my eyes,¡± the announcer leans in closer, his smile growing, ¡°wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± He sinks the young man¡¯s own knife into his chest, letting the terrified youth collapse to the ground, spluttering blood past his tears. ¡°Now the rest of you: move it or lose it!¡±

    The guards snap back into action, grabbing the now-docile prisoners and moving them into place. I gingerly stand, and re-wind the toothed leather wraps around my hands. I lean against a small shack, trying to avoid cutting myself on the rusty metal and getting tetanus. I¡¯d hate to get lockjaw and deprive every one of my voice.

    You¡¯re doing it again. Focus. I shake my head and turn my attention back to the announcer trying to rub the blood out of his clothes. Good luck with that one pal, that shit stains.

    ¡°Looks like you lost,¡± I tell Marazan and tilt my chin at the failed assassin¡¯s corpse. Well, perhaps ¡°assassin¡± is too complimentary here. ¡°Fear-driven fool¡± is much more appropriate. Chayton chuckles to himself and Marazan paws the ground with one of his hooves.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make it back,¡± he replies.

    ¡°And how do you plan to do that?¡± Chayton says, leaning in and wiggling his fingers.

    ¡°By betting against him,¡± Marazan says with a grin, nodding at me. I crack him against his beak before he can get his next words out. I hate when people talk about me like I¡¯m not there.

    He stumbles backwards and I duck under Chayton¡¯s wild swing, slamming my other fist into Marazan¡¯s stomach. I pull down and out, letting the reptile teeth do their job, and I narrowly dodge Marazan¡¯s vicious peck at my eyes.

    BOOM! I go tumbling across the ground, and when I come to a stop, my hips ache from Chayton¡¯s kick.

    ¡°Son of a bitch.¡± I spit dirt (I hope it¡¯s dirt) out of my mouth.

    ¡°Come on, rat,¡± someone grumbles behind me. Strong hands yank me up and I turn to hit them in the temple with a hook. I miss completely, not because of their reflexes or my aim, but because of their height. The dwarven guard head butts me in the gut and grabs me by the hair when I double over in pain.

    ¡°A word of advice, rat?¡± she mutters as she drags me towards the door. ¡°Channel that energy towards everyone out there,¡± she says and points with her club to the bright lights beyond the open metal door.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I begin to struggle after regaining my breath, but she puts a stop to that with her club to my knees, dragging me half-limping past the announcer. As I pass the hook-nosed sadist, I catch a glimpse of tan skin and sharp cheekbones under the makeup. He flicks his black irises over me, and I lunge towards him, breaking free of the dwarven guard.

    ¡°Xochi!¡± I shout, grabbing his shoulders. My mind latches onto the fact that I may be able to escape, that I may not have to do this all over again. A familiar face, one not covered in disgust and hatred for me, is all I need. One moment, one chance, and I can be out of here¡ªout of this shit hole, and away from all these mistakes.

    ¡°Do I know you?¡± Xochi inquires in a long drawl. The guard buckles my legs from behind and I collapse onto my knees. The faint glimmer of recognition flashes through his eyes, and his face lights up. ¡°Oh hello Hosuseri! I didn¡¯t recognize you out of your usual position,¡± he says as he dusts my fingerprints off his shoulders. ¡°Pardon my confusion, it¡¯s merely abnormal to see you doing anything but groveling.¡±

    ¡°Funny, I remember you on your knees more than me, pretty Xochi,¡± I say and force a smile. Just get me out of here. Get me away from these people, get me closer to Dickwed. I¡¯ll grovel, I¡¯ll beg and smile and pretend; anything to not be in this prison for another second. Every breath I take gets under my skin; it infects me until I¡¯m nothing but disease.

    ¡°Funny how those tables have turned.¡±

    ¡°Hilarious,¡± I reply drily, and look around. People are starting to stare; I have to convince him before he feels self-conscious. When Xochi is under attention, he tends to overcompensate, and I¡¯ll be his example. And unlike that Ismarian class in nude portraits, being the example, this time would be...well, in a word: bad.

    Stop antagonizing him, stop joking, and take it seriously. Gods eternal, get ahold of yourself, Namonai.

    ¡°How did you come to be in my little sanctuary for Malor¡¯s lost souls?¡± he asks, spreading his arms wide. His golden sleeves nearly drape down to his waist, and billow with every movement.

    ¡°There was a...misunderstanding. Someone didn¡¯t like something I did. Listen,¡± I pant with exasperated desperation, ¡°that¡¯s not important. You¡¯ve got to get me out of here!¡± Xochi taps his chin, his painted grin stretching into a grotesque frown.

    ¡°You know, I want to say yes. But,¡± he looks down at me with a flash of his obsidian eyes, ¡°every bone in my body is screaming ¡®no¡¯. Because,¡± he grabs me by my face and slams me onto my back when I try and lunge at him, ¡°you reek of desperation. You always have. You were desperate when you stole from me, when you stayed with my sister.¡± Slept. I slept with his sister. There¡¯s a difference. ¡°You were desperate when you put on your mask and pretended to be my friend. I wonder,¡± Xochi kneels down next to me while two more guards appear from the shadows to hold me down, ¡°how desperate were you when you left me stranded on that gods-forsaken mudball?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯ll just give me a chance to¡ª¡± my words are cut short by a club to the stomach.

    ¡°To make me some money and fame? Of course!¡± Xochi says with a too-wide smile. The guards drag me backwards, kicking and flailing, towards the open metal door and the cheering beyond.

    No! Get out. Move goddammit, move. I yank hard and one of the guard¡¯s slip, tumbling onto my legs. I collapse forward and they begin dragging me back by my feet, my nails scraping and ripping against the earth. I can¡¯t let them put me back in, not like this!

    ¡°Please!¡± I shout past the fear bubbling in my throat. ¡°Don¡¯t put me back!¡± Xochi signals to the guards to stop, and I let out half a sob.

    ¡°That¡¯s right, you¡¯ve done this before, haven¡¯t you? Not at my Extravaganza, but something similar, yes?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t imprison a god here, you can¡¯t,¡± I beg.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see a god here. All I see is a...what¡¯s the word?¡± Xochi asks, waving his hand.

    ¡°Rat, sir¡± the female dwarven guard suggests.

    ¡°Rat! Yes. Just a little rat, squeaking and begging because he knows he¡¯s caught in a trap.¡±

    ¡°The other Immortals won¡¯t stand for this, not against one of their own!¡± I shout as the guards drag me away. ¡°They¡¯ll come for you!¡± Xochi lets out his sharp, piercing laughter that echoes off the cold stone walls.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so! No, they¡¯ll be watching you, Boneman.¡±

    ||||||||||

    Boneman. I haven¡¯t heard that name in forever. I thought I left that behind. Funny how your past has a habit of catching up with you like a starved bear-cheetah, huh?

    ¡°Duck!¡± I drop to the ground and barely avoid being simultaneously crushed and impaled by a large wooden ball filled with sharpened stakes. The man who warned me gives me an uneasy smile.

    ¡°Goose!¡± I shout back. The confused look on his face lasts less than half a second before it¡¯s completely obliterated by a thick crossbow bolt.

 Chapter 23.2: Showtime!

    ¡°Duck!¡± I drop to the ground and barely avoid being simultaneously crushed and impaled by a large wooden ball filled with sharpened stakes. The man who warned me gives me an uneasy smile.

    ¡°Goose!¡± I shout back. The confused look on his face lasts less than half a second before it¡¯s completely obliterated by a thick crossbow bolt.

    I clamber to my feet, slipping on gore as the ground starts to slide out from underneath me. No, that¡¯s not right: the entire floor is tilting. The two dozen other people I¡¯m with quickly start to run towards a ledge high above us, made reachable by the drastic tilt of the floor.

    ¡°Get off me you dumb bitch!¡± A man tries to throw a stringy woman off of him, but she grips into him hard with long fingernails. He screams as they both go tumbling off the side of the large platform, his wails descending into the impenetrable darkness just out of reach.

    I stumble over a body riddled with sharp needles, and barely catch myself. Don¡¯t fall, don¡¯t fall, don¡¯t fall. The world tilts off-center, and my vision swims for a brief, blurry moment. How long has it been since I¡¯ve slept? Since I ate, or drink anything? How long has it been since I haven¡¯t felt torn up and broken in every inch of my body?

    My bruised ribs scream with each sharp inhale and expansion of my diaphragm. I meet the eye of an anthro croc huffing beside me, quickly being outpaced by the rest of us.

    I leap towards the upper ledge. My body dangles in blank space for the beginning of an eternity, the wind and the screams drifting past my ears. Then I start to fall.

    My fingers grip the upper ledge tightly and my shoulders abruptly take my bodyweight, nearly popping out of their sockets. I grunt as I heave myself up and roll onto the new area, gasping for breath. A bare foot collides with my side, worsening the stitch that I¡¯m convinced is permanent, and I go sliding across the slick floor. I slam my palms down and catch myself, launching myself into a forward roll as my new assailant comes at me.

    I sweep her legs out from underneath her and grab her as she¡¯s falling, tossing her off the platform¡¯s edge. She grabs onto my shirt, but the worn material finally rips, and she tumbles back into the void.

    ¡°Gods no!¡± a hoarse voice shouts. I turn just in time to see an old man fall short in his jump.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I mutter to myself and leap forward. I nearly roll off the edge as I reach for his bony hand. His grizzled palm slaps into mine at an awkward angle, and when I yank him up, he screams as his wrist and shoulder pop simultaneously. He dangles from his broken arm, stretching to an abnormal length, and looks up at me with tears in his eyes. They¡¯re blue¡ªthe kind of blue that you see behind thin wisps of clouds, almost grey. Behind him, a young girl screams as she races towards the edge of the rapidly descending floor.

    ¡°Damn,¡± I curse again. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. You¡¯ve got to do it; it¡¯s a little girl. You have to. Don¡¯t be a little bitch. I make eye contact with the old man, and I imagine for a brief moment what he sees:

    Awful burned face, with a twisted snarl. Cords and muscles flexing in knots, sweat and blood dripping from his body. Dark eyes with no mercy, hardened like iron, and he¡¯s letting go. He doesn¡¯t care. Just another selfish thug, out for himself, morality be damned.

    I yank my arm back and the man¡¯s nails leave bloody furrows in my arms; he screams like the rest on his way down. I quickly turn my attention back to the young girl and snatch her out of the air when she, too, falls short. I yank her up and roll over onto my back, tossing her to safety beside me.

    For a moment, my rattling pants and wheezes blend in with the rest of the group, mixing in with the crying and groaning. The little girl trembles next to me and I force myself to sit up, force myself not to look at her face. She¡¯ll be dead soon anyway. They all will. Just try to remember all the times those little street urchins stole from you, switched valuables out of your pockets with lumps of rock and dirt. Kids are little assholes.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the girl says. Her voice is surprisingly deep. In any other situation, it might actually have been soothing to hear¡ªnow it makes me want to shove screws in my ears. ¡°My name is Kairlah.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± I reply and unsteadily stand. She follow suit, coming up to my shoulders. Her dirty blonde pixie cut bobs next to me, keeping two steps behind me. Just ignore her. Everybody knows it¡¯s easy to ignore kids. They¡¯re just like kittens¡ªyou can¡¯t really understand anything from inside the bag, right?Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°What do you think it is this time?¡± one of the guys mutters to another.

    ¡°Probably a course run again. They¡¯ll have a needle wall up ahead,¡± he replies. Great, just what I wanted: an obstacle course from hell. I really should¡¯ve done more cardio.

    One of the others speaks up. ¡°Come on everyone, let¡¯s beat this shit. The sooner we do, the sooner we get home. Newcomers, pair with a senior. And,¡± the gaunt woman with the ponytail looks at all of us with recessed eyes, ¡°if you slow anyone down, we drop you.¡±

    A balding man sidles up next to a dirty looking anthro rat, who hisses under his breath. ¡°T-thank you,¡± the balding man whispers. I sidle past them, but manage to catch the rat¡¯s reply.

    ¡°When they have a colosseum match, I¡¯ll peel apart your eyes and drink your blood.¡± Ah yes, the eyes, what a delicacy. As previously discussed, they are the body¡¯s grapes; succulent, mildly tart, and best left fermented into jelly wine. Or so I¡¯ve been told.

    I hang back and watch the conversations bleed together with the murmured threats, temporary alliances shifting with each breath. We march as a loose collective across the flat platform, with whispers from beyond filtering through their words. There¡¯s a small decline, and I stop. Kairy...no, Kairlah. Yeah, her. I grab her by the collar of her oversized coat, and she jerks back. At the front of the group, four walls shoot up, sealing several away. The screaming starts immediately after.

    ¡°Malekray!¡± a man shouts and slams his palms against the metal walls. Visceral sounds of ripping and tearing leach out between the high-pitched wailing. Low snarls echo through the metal chamber, creating a hellish symphony. My world tilts and I stumble sideways, nearly collapsing onto Kairlah. The vivid scent of gore assaults my senses, and I take a quick step back, trying to right my reeling vision. My foot nearly slips off the edge, the darkness spinning underneath me. Faint screams waft from the void below, and I clap my hands to my ears, surrounded by nightmares.

    I dry-swallow past the lump in my throat and take a shaky breath, even as the screeching and pleading begins to reach its climax. The floor is receding, crawling towards the metal box.

    ¡°Move,¡± I whisper to myself, and my feet finally begin to listen. I start to run from the receding edge, but stop myself. If I keep running, the rest will know something is up. And my lead will be gone. I still open my mouth to warn them, even as I shoulder past them, and shut out the screams. But the words stick in my throat. I stop next to Kairlah, pale with horror. I tap her on her shoulder and she jumps. I catch a glimpse of brown eyes, but quickly look away. There¡¯s no point in memorizing the face of a dead woman.

    I silently put my finger to my lips and point towards the approaching edge of floor, retreating quicker than before. She visibly swallows and nods, following me. There¡¯s a sickening wet crunch from the other side of the walls, and gleeful cackling. The few against the walls finally begin to back away, and that¡¯s when I run.

    My feet slap the smooth floor for only a few seconds before I leap through the air and hoist myself atop the metal wall in one movement. Kairlah is right behind me, and I¡¯m not perched atop the wall for more than a second before she collides with me, sending us both into the center of the room.

    I wrap her in my arms and hit the slippery remains of my former compatriots. I slip on loose entrails as I stand, and Kairlah''s tears slip past the partially-chewed chunks of meat in her hair.

    Soft clicking erupts from beside me and I turn. Something skinless jitters towards me, then back into the shadows. I quickly turn and a small creature skitters underneath me with twisted palms, its stomach arched towards the ceiling. Hair trickles past my leg and I see one of the twisted things dragging the top half of a corpse towards it. I kick when one of the creatures fazes too close to me. It lets out an earsplitting scream and I duck down. Not fast enough to avoid one of them leaping atop me.

    It only lasts for a second; I¡¯m not its prey. It uses me as a springboard to leap towards the exposed face of one of the other prisoners now managing to scale the wall. It grabs ahold, unnaturally wide maw opened in a bone-grating war cry. The prisoner falls back, screaming. The one that was eating the corpse suddenly stops and begins shaking, becoming a blurry form. And when it stops, there are two of them.

    ¡°Move Kairlah,¡± I whisper. I yank her to her feet and race towards the opposite walls, ignoring the shrieks and unspeakable horrors just outside my vision. I leap to the top of the opposing wall and feel the girl¡¯s hand slip from mine. I turn back as I hoist myself up, and for the first time I see her face. Abject horror is etched into every youthful line and curve, and then it¡¯s...gone. Not devoured, just gone. I drop to the other side of the wall and collapse when my ankle rolls, laying still on the floor in a bloody heap.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I mutter. ¡°Shit shit shit.¡± I wrap my bloodied hands across my arms, hugging myself until I stop shaking. I can¡¯t believe Xochi made this. I find my way to my unsteady feet and trudge down the endless corridor.

    There¡¯s a soft click under my foot and I pause, looking down. I throw myself forward as two large blades crisscross each other where I had just been standing. A large weight hurtles down towards me from the darkness above, and I roll out of the way. The floor behind me shatters like glass and I race forward. My foot begins to sink down and I jump with my other leg.

    I land hard on my side, barely avoiding the spiked pitfall. I come, panting, to a heap of metal walls and platforms. I wipe my hands on what remains of my pants and begin to climb. The chill in the air presses against the uncomfortable heat radiating from my skin. Each breath of air takes its toll on my parched throat.

    My arms shake as I pull myself up on a ledge, and collapse before I heave myself over. I tumble down and groan. I blink tears away, and make myself stand, repeating the same actions over and over again. Grab, lift, swing myself onto the new ledge. Repeat.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you Xochi,¡± I gasp out, rolling onto my back at the top.

 Chapter 23.3: Showtime!

    "I''m going to kill you Xochi," I gasp out, rolling onto my back at the top.

    |||||||||

    I barely make the jump over the pit of crackling flames and slide past a rolling log embedded with sharp spikes. I slump against a stack of crates and drop to the ground, clutching at several scratches in my side. My injured angle throbs; another unwelcome distraction in trying to survive. I gingerly make my way to my feet and limp on down the hallway. Soft screams and whispers lilt up from the abyss on either side of the narrow platform.

    "It''s all for effect," I mutter to myself and shake my head. The siren song of suffering echoes in the impossibly large void, and I hug myself tighter, body shaking. "Now I''m starting to see why Icarus hates magic." All of this was made for the entertainment of others? Or is Xochi acting out his sick fantasies?

    "I''m going to kill him," I mutter between clenched teeth. Spit drips from my lower lip, smacking onto the ground while I limp on. "I killed the pig, and I''ll kill him." My fingernails dig into my arms and I''m shaking harder, my breath coming out in soft clouds. "I''ll kill all of them, everyone responsible. Then I''ll be a nice person," I promise myself. I wipe cold sweat from the burnt skin on my forehead and leave behind smears of blood. My entire body jerks to an abrupt halt, my eyes rooted to the floor in front of me.

    A bruised pale hand, translucent blue veins pulsing underneath the thin layers of dirt and gore, creeps up along the edge of the platform. Unnaturally long fingers curl around the lip of the hallway, and a low rasping breath whispers past my ear. I remain frozen in place, ice crystals forming from the sweat on my eyelashes, unable to take my eyes away from the creature slowly climbing.

    Matted dark hair, filled with grease and fibers, begins to appear above the edge of the narrow platform near my feet. The hair barely moves as a long death rattle creeps forward in the air. Mottled pale and sickly yellow shoulders raise up, the creature''s long dark nails clacking against the smooth ground with every inch it climbs.

    "It''s not real," I mutter, forcing myself to take a step forward. "You''re an Immortal, goddammit. You''ve seen some weird shit. What''s this? It''s nothing. It''s nothing." Despite the confident words shivered out between chattering teeth, I can''t pull my eyes away from the thing, even as I slowly limp past it.

    It begins to raise its head towards me and I finally close my eyes and look away. The chill dissipates with each step I take, until warmth begins to flow back into my limbs. I let out a sigh of relief and open my eyes.

    A large cavernous maw of mangled teeth opens up, the rotten stench of decay wafting out. The creature shrieks with the fury of a thousand damned souls begging for release, and I feel it''s cold corpse skin slam against me. We go tumbling off the side of the platform, swirling together in the abyss.

    Less than a second later, I collide, alone, with the ground. I groan and my fingers twitch against soft earth and loose pebbles, but my body remains otherwise still. I stand, and immediately collapse on my first step. My head smacks against the cave walls on my way down, and my world reels, blood dripping onto the dirt beside me. My vision swims, darkness slowly creeping in as my breath rattles out, wet with pain and blood. As my eyes close, a dark mane of knotted, greasy hair drips into view.

    ||||||||||

    "Oh, you''re back," an unenthusiastic voice says from the darkness. I blink my eyes open and immediately groan. My aching muscles sink deeper into the soft couch underneath me. "I can''t tell if you''re in agonizing pain, or just happy to see me." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "Screw...you..." I reply between heavy breaths. Mutovinatum tuts softly from somewhere beyond my limited vision.

    "No need to be rude, now. You''re safe for the moment."

    "My mind isn''t safe with you in here," I say. "And I''m pretty sure I''m very unsafe out there." I weakly jab at the glowing door with my thumb.

    "You could always let me ta¡ª"

    "No," I reply adamantly.

    "You didn''t even let me finish!"

    "I know what you were going to say."

    "Well in that case," Mutovinatum grumbles, grabbing me by the collar, "see you on the other side." I can''t find the strength to resist as he tosses me through the glowing doorway.

    ||||||||||

    Something is dragging me by my ankles along the cave floor, my head hitting small stones and dips along the way. Dirt is getting all up in my pants, and...other places. I try and twist, but my body screams in protest when I try to move at all. I strain to see who¡ªor what¡ªis dragging me, but I remain immobile. I should''ve done more situps.

    FOCUS. I listen to my own advice, and concentrate on craning my neck up ever-so-slightly. I catch sight of two large figures dragging me, which I don''t have time to process as I''m suddenly slung feet-first into a brightly illuminated circle of light.

    "...ouch," I mutter weakly as I hit the ground. The blood roars in my ears, and I feel on the verge of passing out once more when I realize: it''s not my blood that''s roaring. It''s the crowd.

    My eyes finally adjust to the light hitting my retinas, and I slowly manage to turn myself over in the sand. I kick what feels like human bone as I do so, and I spot several other prisoners just now regaining consciousness.

    "Ladies and gentlemen, boys girls and everything in-between," a loud voice announces from above.

    "Xochi," I hiss, and push myself up inch by painstaking inch.

    "Welcome to another night at the XOOOOOCHI EXTRAVAGAAAAAAANZA!" he shouts, and the crowd erupts into deafening cheer. After several minutes of throat-shredding screaming and thunderous applause, they quiet down just as I make it to my feet. "We have a special treat for everyone tonight. Not only did we pull out all the stops with the obstacle course, throwing in some REAL KINGDOM GHOULS¡ª" The crowd interrupts him with shocked gasps and surprised shouts, which he quickly calms with movements of his hands.

    I grab a handful of the hot sand and keep my eyes on the vain-glorious prick lording his power over our lives. Wait until I rip out your vocal cords so you can''t scream while I shove this sand up your ass, Xochi.

    "I know you may be wondering why I would take such a risk, but I assure you, there is a good reason." The audience waits with baited breath as he pauses. The other prisoners also begin to stand, casting wary glances at each other. "To celebrate the season!" At the same time, several pumpkins are launched towards me and the other prisoners. I dive to the side, and land on my less-injured shoulder as the pumpkin splats against the sand. I shakily stand and limp over, pulling out a small dagger.

    After the audience stops cheering, he continues. "As you all know, I typically like to end my evenings with a little bloodshed." Xochi winks at the crowd and my stomach turns in disgust. "Normally, I would just have the survivors viciously slaughter each other until the entire sand pit is stained red," he says. "Or at least pink." Another stomach-churning wink, and the crowd laughs. "While I still want to see blood, and I doubt I''ll be disappointed, I cooked up something special for tonight. For tonight, we will watch our lovely prisoners cooperate with each other against a larger threat."

    "What the hell does he mean?" one prisoner asks another. I keep my distance, looking from my fellow prisoners up to Xochi, and back again.

    "Before we pull out the main event, allow me to introduce him. My dear audience, tonight our little gang of misfits will be facing..." he pauses while the audience takes in a collective breath, "the aqrabuamelu." Again, more gasps. "Also known as the ''scorpion man'', our arachnid/human friend is taller than the average mortal, with a thick, chitinous exterior. He backs up this intimidating defense with eight piercing legs, a set of razor-sharp claws, and his signature tail. Which, if stuck with the poison it contains, his victims will hallucinate their greatest fears and hatreds." Xochi looks down, and locks eyes with me, his smile twisting sinister. "Good luck."

    I start to raise my hand to throw the knife, but feel something sharp pierce my back. Fortunately, I don''t have a chance to register the pain as I collapse, consciousness slipping away. Again.

    ||||||||||

    My eyes flutter open to the familiar cozy room, and I look over from my spot on the couch to see Mutovinatum sigh in his armchair and slam his book shut.

    "Son of a bitch."