《White Heart》


 The Call

    1


    It had smelled great, looked great, but went down like shit. Marco could barely choke it, and it seemed like it was noticeable.


    ¡°How¡¯s your risotto, Marco?¡± Geno asked, smiling from across the table. ¡°Please, be honest. I took a liberty with the sausage--it¡¯s American--but I¡¯m no good at judging my own work.¡±


    Geno was young for his position at thirty-two, and the stresses of his work hadn¡¯t aged him a day. With warm olive skin, slicked back hair, a nice suit, and a winning smile, it was hard for most people not to take a liking to the man right away--a nice trait to have when one¡¯s career depended greatly upon being liked. The only negative trait Marco could see was the lack of muscle on his bones and the gauntness of his cheeks¡­ Being around him made Marco self aware about how he must¡¯ve looked: his flannel shirt was stained, his jeans the same, his boots muddy from the site''s ground. Even his own olive-colored skin seemed less than in comparison, his own hair greasy, his own average weight bulbous¡­ And his face wasn¡¯t much better too, housing a black on blue the size of a tomato on his left cheek. He was rubbing it.


    ¡°Marco?¡± Geno said.


    He moved his hand up. ¡°Sorry, I wasn¡¯t paying attention¡­¡± Marco admitted, absently stroking back his greying hair.


    Geno smiled, showing that no harm was done. ¡°The risotto, how is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± It was a sound of distrust. ¡°Igor, taste it and tell me.¡±


    The Russian, who had been standing just behind his chair, seized the spoon and stabbed at his plate, picking a hefty portion before taking a bite. Igor was the name of some deformed freak working under Dr. Frankenstein in a movie he¡¯d seen once; a small, pathetic, and dumb man. Even though the giant of a man stood over him at almost seven feet was the opposite of small or deforemed or pathetic or dumb, Marco felt it was fitting. Igor ground the rice between his straight jaw the same way Marco imagined he would grind human bones if he had the chance, his blue eyes never wavering from the eye contact they were sharing, and swallowed.


    The giant looked back over to his boss. ¡°No lie. I like it enough.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like I said. Good,¡± Marco added quickly.


    The man leaning by the corner of the room chuckled to himself. He was a man that the term ¡°rat-like¡± fit perfectly, all small, ugly, and skinny. Aldo was his name and Marco had never liked him. Still a goon, he thought.


    Geno straightened his back and the man stopped. ¡°Be quiet and leave him alone,¡± he said. ¡°This is no doubt a stressful situation for him. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Marco nodded, feeling claustrophobic despite the large apartment they were eating in. Larger than his, at least, with two bathrooms and a kitchen separate to the dining room. Strangely, the fact that Geno chose to live in a modest apartment just above a bar he owned seemed like the most eccentric aspect of the man, especially considering his income.


    ¡°See? How can a man think straight when under this kind of pressure?¡± Geno asked, looking at the two as if expecting an answer. He wasn¡¯t and they knew it, both nodding as if they understood. ¡°Now, you tell me, Marco; you, who hasn¡¯t been doing business with us for about eighteen years, why have we called you here?¡±


    Marco rubbed his chinned, feeling the stubble massage his fingertips as he studied the mafioso. ¡°It¡¯s Vincenzo, right?¡± he asked, letting his hand fall on the table. ¡°Did something happen to him?¡±


    ¡°No, not yet,¡± Geno admitted. ¡°But here¡¯s hoping.¡±


    Marco feigned surprise. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Marco, you know me. I don¡¯t sugarcoat the truth. Vincenzo has to die. The Don gave the order himself,¡± Geno explained. ¡°Now, believe me when I say I tried to tell him otherwise.¡± He smiled in spite of the news he was giving. ¡°I¡¯ve actually done it for the past two years! Realistically, he should¡¯ve died after the Lenny situation--but I saved him. And I want you to remember that, okay? That was your fuck up.¡±


    He knew it was his fault, felt it was his fault, but hearing it out loud¡­ It felt like a knife twisting in his stomach. That expression was accurate because he had been stabbed once in his younger years.


    ¡°That poor girl¡­¡± Geno said. ¡°Burning to death¡­ A terrible way to go¡­ And you know how the Don is, his punishments and all¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that why you have that?¡± Marco questioned, pointing at the artifact on the wall behind him.


    ¡°That?¡± Geno muttered, turning to see. It was an antique flamethrower--made in World War Two by the look of it--in what seemed to be mint condition, hanging above his white leather couch. ¡°That was my grandfather¡¯s. But don¡¯t mind that.¡± He turned back to Marco. ¡°Stay on subject. Vincenzo¡¯s time is up, there¡¯s no changing that. If it¡¯s not going to be me, it¡¯s going to be someone else¡­ Which is why you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°What? What do you want me to do?¡± Marco asked, his voice low.


    ¡°I want you to do it,¡± said Geno. ¡°You can make it painless. You can make it unexpected. You can make it¡­ tasteful. What better man to do a job like this than the man who changed his diapers? Now before you explode at me, just remember that we get our way. No matter what you do, as long as he stays in Italy: he is a dead man.¡± Geno leaned back. ¡°What would you rather have happen? Me send Igor to take care of him? Or you?¡± He smiled crookedly, probably knowing how much it made Marco want to jump over his shit food and shove his thumbs in his eyes. ¡°Igor¡¯s crazy too, and that isn''t an exaggeration, my retired friend. He¡¯s actually insane.¡± The smile fell as the rest of his face became serious. ¡°You don¡¯t want Igor to do it. I promise you that, Marco. Igor doesn¡¯t use guns like you or I. He uses his hands, Marco. His hands.¡± He took another bite, chewed it, and ate it. ¡°Best it be you.¡±


    Marco pretended to reflect on his question, trying his best to seem like a man in the middle of contemplating his own son¡¯s murder¡­ And Geno seemed to buy it.


    ¡°I know that this is a¡­ difficult decision, Marco. I have nothing but respect for you considering your history¡­ Actually, I looked up to you ever since starting out. I still do,¡± Geno said, a little grin on his lips. ¡°And Vincenzo, he¡¯s been terrific. Smart, strong, ruthless, suicidal. As one of my men, he¡¯s been invaluable. I mean that too¡­ And you know how I feel about taking them so young. It breaks my heart¡­¡±


    ¡°Can I ask why?¡± Marco asked, seeming pathetic. ¡°Why now? Why today? Of all days?¡±


    Geno looked at him so long that Marco almost began to fear that he was seeing through his act, but luckily, the fear that came only solidified his role. ¡°Because he is smart, strong, and ruthless¡­ Just like his real father. The Marino family has made the mistake of putting a Guerriero in power once, but never again. And the Don, like I said, is done with him. War¡¯s been over for months now. So, have you made your choice?¡±


    Marco pretended to wonder a moment longer before ¡°caving¡± into the pressure of it all. ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡± he said, holding his head over his plate and throwing his elbows on the white tablecloth to support it. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, okay?! Fuck¡­!¡±


    Geno gave him a sympathetic smile and rose. ¡°Best you go now. If you don¡¯t get it done by tonight¡­¡±


    ¡°I already know,¡± Marco said. ¡°Just leave me alone¡­ It¡¯ll get done¡­¡± He stood up slowly. Which is a lie, he thought, fireworks went off and an opera sang in his heart. We¡¯ll be on a plane halfway to America by the time the sun rises. Both of us with new identities. Him, in a place where he can start fresh, away from this nonsense. Away from you! Smile about that you traitorous cunt! ¡°Now move, I need to do it now, before¡­ before I change my mind.¡±


    Geno nodded. ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he said, leading him towards the door. ¡°Oh, and Marco?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Geno gave him one last wan smile. ¡°Good luck. I mean it, truly.¡±


    Marco looked at him and tried his best to somberly nod before opening the door--but Igor stopped him, his own pale hand slamming it back shut. ¡°No,¡± the giant said simply. ¡°Something is wrong.¡±


    His icy blue eyes cut deep, freezing him solid. Marco said, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem, Igor?¡± the rat-man, Aldo, asked, stepping in front of the door.


    ¡°Leave him be,¡± Geno commanded. ¡°Let him go already, he¡¯s got a job to do.¡±


    Marco met Geno¡¯s eyes for a moment. He knows I¡¯m lying, Marco realized grimly. But if he knows I¡¯m lying¡­ Why let me leave? Why let me live?


    Then he remembered. Marco. I have nothing but respect for you considering your history¡­ Actually, I looked up to you for quite some time. I still do, he had said. Good luck. I mean it, truly.


    ¡°Do I have to repeat myself, Igor?¡± Geno asked, growing annoyed. ¡°Let him through.¡±


    A wave of pure relief that seemed almost impossible to hide came over him when those words echoed within his brain. ¡°Come on,¡± Marco said. ¡°He watches that TV around this time; it¡¯ll be easiest now.¡±


    The rat-man retreated from the door discouraged and unhappy, the imaginary tail Marco imagined following swiftly behind. Even Igor seemed to step back, and it took all of Marco¡¯s being to not jump up in glee. He was half-expecting never to walk out of the place alive.


    Then Igor¡¯s massive hands grabbed him by the shirt and tore it open the same way someone would tear a sheet of paper, and Marco just stood there, dumbfounded, the phone taped to his t-shirt bare for all to see.


    ¡°Rat,¡± Igor said. ¡°I knew it. I smelled rat.¡±


    Marco looked over to Geno for support but found none. As long as no one knew, Geno could get away with letting him leave and taking Vincenzo with him; but not then.


    Geno sighed, rubbing his eyes in defeat. ¡°Igor, hold him down.¡±


    The Russian threw him to the ground as if he were a child, pinning him with just one knee and one arm he used to hold both of Marco¡¯s arms behind his back. ¡°Already done. Good thing floor is wood, yes?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Geno agreed, grabbing a knife from the kitchen. It was a small four inch blade; the situation didn¡¯t seem to merit anything larger. ¡°Marco, do you have any last words? Before I¡­¡± he halfheartedly flicked his wrist with knife in hand, ¡°you know?¡±


    I¡¯m going to die, Marco thought. Oh, God, say something already! ¡°Y-yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°What about phone?¡± Igor asked. ¡°I can turn him over, still.¡±


    ¡°Leave it. I doubt it¡¯s the police he¡¯s calling,¡± Geno said, kneeling down. ¡°Go ahead, Marco, say what you have to say.¡±


    Marco swallowed his spit and shut his eyes, looking for what to say. He was dead already. All he could do left was beg or threaten. So why not both? He glared at Geno. ¡°Geno, don¡¯t kill him,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s just a fucking kid! You hear me! You touch him and you--!¡±


    The knife slid through the front of his throat, cutting him short. All he could do was produce a weak gurgle that petered out to nothing as blood filled his lungs and his eyes drained of life¡­ The last thought that entered his mind was his own failure as a father. His failure to protect his son. His addiction that caused Vincenzo to fall prey to neglect, to fall prey to horrible things that caused him to only hate¡­


    All thought ended.


    2


    Geno got up again and sighed, frowning at the blood spreading out from the body''s neck. ¡°What a waste.¡±


    His toilet flushed and Igor¡¯s son, Pasha, emerged from the hall and stopped when he saw the still-warm corpse on the ground. ¡°Holy shit,¡± he said. ¡°Wha--¡±


    ¡°Just clean it up,¡± Geno ordered. He turned over the flesh that used to be Marco and grabbing the flip-phone taped to his chest. ¡°Chop him up in my tub and get rid of it.¡± The phone claimed a call had been going for thirty minutes. He snapped it in half. ¡°Now! We¡¯re gonna have company¡­¡±


    ¡°Want me to call some guys?¡± Aldo asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Geno said, staring him down. ¡°We¡¯re all we need.¡±


    3


    There was no moon, no stars, and even the lamp posts that dotted the empty street he was parked on seemed dim. Vincenzo held the phone, long silent after the line had been disconnected, completely still. He was a big guy, six-foot-five with a broad frame that made being strong easy. He was very pale, practically white as milk like Igor. And his eyes were black. If someone was walking down the sidewalk, he guessed, they¡¯d probably walk across the street to get to the other side. He rubbed his shaven head, feeling the small black stubble massage the skin of his palm while he stared down at the black screen.


    Marco died, he realized, somehow still not believing it. His dark eyes were glued to the screen with an unblinking resolve, as if staring would somehow reverse all that happened. And they want me dead. Sure, he never tried to make friends with any of them--even Pasho, who was only a couple of years older at twenty-five, and friendlier than the others--but he didn¡¯t think they¡¯d try to kill him. Well, except Aldo¡­ No way, Marco¡¯s not dead, he assured himself. This¡­ this is just some elaborate prank or surprise or something¡­ I mean, it¡¯s my goddamn birthday! I¡¯m gonna march over there, armed to the teeth, and then they¡¯re just gonna jump out and yell, ¡°Surprise!¡± And I¡¯m going to be standing there looking like an asshole. He walked over to the trunk of Marco¡¯s incredibly small car and opened it. There¡¯s gonna be a cake¡­ There¡¯s gonna be¡­ be a¡­


    The phone slipped out of his hands and bounced off the sidewalk, its glass cracked. Marco usually kept some water in the trunk, to bring to work and all, and he was getting thirsty--but there was no water. Just a duffle bag. He unzipped it slowly and looked inside, and saw money; money separated in two plastic containers, marked ¡°F¡± and ¡°S¡±. My money and his, he realized. The last four items cemented what had happened over the phone as a complete truth: two passports in fake names, both authentic looking, and two plane tickets to Texas.


    He almost fell over but managed to catch a nearby lamp post, using the small amounts of strength that hadn¡¯t vacated his body to stop him from falling flat on his ass. And then the anger came, bringing back power to his legs and balance to his body, forcing him upright as the murderous rage reached his face. ¡°MotherFUCKER!¡± he yelled, slamming the trunk door so hard the entire mustard-colored thing jumped. But like all old cars that were near falling apart, the trunk door rose again. He slammed it down. It rose. ¡°Piece of shit!¡± He slammed it. ¡°Stupid cunt!¡± He slammed it. ¡°Dumbass bastard!¡± And slammed it again. ¡°That¡­ fucking¡­¡± He shut it more gently as the feeling of something crawling up his throat sent him to his knees, and he was forced to keep himself from crying. ¡°That¡­ That¡­¡± he tried to say, but he knew that if he finished the sentence he¡¯d end up bawling in the middle of the street. So he stopped, took a deep breath in, and managed to stand back up. This time, he calmly shut the door, and it stayed. The closest he came to crying in years were a pair of watery eyes--just how it should be. He was surprised again. Not at the fact Marco was dead, he had already accepted that; he was surprised that he cared¡­ Frankly, he thought he hated the man. But you were about to cry like a little bitch just now, his brain pointed out. You don¡¯t cry over someone you don¡¯t even like, so why did you come close? Vincenzo didn¡¯t know¡­


    He did, however, know one thing: they were gonna pay.


    He entered the driver''s seat of the ancient Fiat Panda and turned the keys in the ignition, whose engine sputtered into life. Just one stop beforehand, he thought, staring at the bobbing Hawaiian figurine dancing on the dash. He tapped it once, watching its grass skirt sway from side to side in a little dance. He loved this stupid thing, he reminisced, flicking it to make it dance faster. His black eyes widened when he remembered something else Marco had loved, sending his left arm into the glove compartment to dig through its contents.


    Marco was a laborer, heading to construction sites that were sometimes hours away, and he loved one kind of music more than any other: heavy metal. The nook was filled with CDs from different bands from all over the world, and Marco loved them all.


    Vincenzo hated them, but he guessed that was less about the music and more about Marco himself. Still, for some odd reason, he wanted to put some on. He grabbed a CD--he didn¡¯t care which one, he just grabbed the first one his fingers hand pinched--popped it in the player, turned up the volume, and drove to the sound of crashing drums and electric guitars. And for some odd reason, it was comforting.


    4


    He parked on the street opposite the cathedral and pulled himself out of the driver¡¯s seat, keeping a watch on the place as he did. It was supposed to be a sort of peace zone between families in times of war, providing sanctuary to those who entered--but he didn¡¯t feel like he could be too careful. He felt confident in a fight, but, in the end, a bullet to the back of the head was no fight. ¡°Okay,¡± he whispered to himself. ¡°In and out, one second¡­¡±


    He grabbed the duffle bag out the trunk and jogged towards the double doors of dark wood, and opened them. He knew I was coming, he realized with a shudder. The doors were usually locked. His left hand secured a sling over his shoulder while his right grabbed the gun in his suit pocket and pulled it out, aiming the small pistol from his waist. The inside was more ominous than the out as grey stone and red carpet made the place seem more like a dungeon than a place of worship; but that wasn¡¯t what unnerved him. That wasn¡¯t what brought a sensation of spiders crawling up and down his back the closer he got to the main room, to where he was waiting. He inched closer to the door, so quiet that no one would realistically hear, his breath growing shallow and long to make him completely silent. That was how he moved throughout the dim hall leading to the nave, his left hand pressing the dufflebag against his hip so it didn¡¯t bounce off his thigh, and his right aiming his pistol. His only other movement apart from the methodical crawl was the turn of his head, scanning every door for any sign of light or movement; there was nothing. The only door with anything amiss was the one straight ahead, a dull glow seeping out from the bottom. From what he knew the place was only open in the day, it¡¯s less legit activities at--but only in war time--at night. For now, it was a regular church. No one should''ve been up. You know who¡¯s up, he thought. Just grow a pair and open it already. He did, doing so slowly so that the aged wood and rusted hinges didn¡¯t even creak¡­ But even though he didn¡¯t make a sound, even though it was almost midnight, even though he didn¡¯t even breathe, the Father was already staring back at him from the first pew. The crucifix behind the podium and the rest of the place were lit by sparse candles, but the door he entered from was almost pitch dark. The Father was blind. It was obvious in his clouded grey eyes which the young man found himself staring into.. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been expecting you,¡± Father said, waving him over. ¡°Now, come. Sit.¡±


    ¡°But how?¡± Vincenzo felt the need to ask. He didn¡¯t believe in the supernatural, not for a second, but¡­ ¡°I¡­¡± He sat down beside him and placed the duffle bag on his lap. ¡°I thought I was quiet.¡±


    ¡°You were,¡± Father said. ¡°I never heard you.¡±


    ¡°But--¡±


    He raised a wrinkled hand and stopped the giant--compared to his small, feeble frame--from speaking. ¡°You know how. You wouldn¡¯t have come if you didn¡¯t.¡±


    The old, bald, blind priest in front of him was known to all families as a sort of fortune teller. Some didn¡¯t believe, but many--including those at the top of their families--relied on him. That was as much as Vincenzo knew. ¡°I know why you think I¡¯m here, but that¡¯s not it. I just came to drop this off¡­¡±


    He started to unzip the bag, but the Father stopped him. ¡°The money, yes?¡±


    Vincenzo looked at him nervously and unzipped it fully, setting both piles of money on the pew beside him. ¡°The money, yeah.¡±


    ¡°And why would you leave that money with me?¡± Father questioned.


    It was an easy decision. The money was stained in blood and it would leave a bad taste in his mouth if some mafioso got their hands on it. So why not leave it here? A safe zone for gangsters was just one thing the church did; the other was settling money ¡°donated¡± for his fortunes. Seeing the future didn¡¯t come free, and the Father assured that all money donated would get donated to some orphanages, and hospitals, and probably some very skinny African kids, and a bunch of other charities that he didn¡¯t care to remember. But that was all just fluff, fluff behind the only thing he really wanted was to get out of another bastard''s greasy hands. ¡°Don¡¯t you already know?¡± Vincenzo said with a scoff.


    The old man shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a fickle gift, I feel. Some things are clear, some are not, and some are wrong¡­ Omnipotence is something only God has claim to. I¡¯m just right every now and then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure¡­¡± he said, but his tone implied the opposite. ¡°I don¡¯t need this. The passports, the tickets, the money¡­ Marco doesn¡¯t need it either.¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Vincenzo said, ¡°obviously¡­¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re alive,¡± the old man pointed out. ¡°That money is something you earned--through violence, yes, but it¡¯s yours. Why won¡¯t you be needing it?¡±


    He gave the Father a grim look despite the fact that the old man was blind. ¡°I¡¯m going to get revenge,¡± he said. ¡°On Igor, Pasha, and Geno¡­ They¡¯re gangsters, and so am I. It¡¯ll work itself out.¡±


    ¡°Is that what Marco would¡¯ve wanted?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Vincenzo said, glaring at the blind man. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have a say.¡±


    The Father shook his head and grinned, never blinking. ¡°That man came to me, asked me for advice, and told me to give that advice to you. So, just this once, he speaks through me.¡± He leaned closer. ¡°Do not go. He has left what you need to live someplace else, maybe happily, maybe not¡­ But that choice is yours. Look at me as if I was him, and then make your choice¡­¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t him. And if you say that again, I¡¯ll kill you,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Understand?¡±


    The Father giggled at that, straight in the face of the man who could probably rip his head off if he was so inclined. ¡°I don¡¯t think you will. You¡¯d kill a man for no reason in particular--and you have--but you won¡¯t kill me.¡±


    ¡°And what makes you so sure?¡± Vincenzo asked, feeling anger bubble up. ¡°You¡¯re not making it hard.¡±


    The Father stopped laughing and shook his head, before turning towards the large wood cross hanging off the stone in front of them. ¡°Marco said so.¡± The Father turned back to him. ¡°He¡¯s sorry. He¡¯s sorry for everything.¡±


    And that hate he was harboring disappeared. Marco apologized a bunch of times, but¡­ hearing it from another seemed different somehow. But forgiveness¡­ he wasn¡¯t ready to give that out, and he didn¡¯t know if he ever would. ¡°Hey, Father,¡± he said, ¡°where do you think he¡¯s going? Honestly.¡±


    The old man was silent, closing his foggy eyes in contemplation before opening them with a nod. ¡°I¡¯ve met horrible men. I¡¯ve met wonderful men. And both have done horrible things¡­ But do you know the difference between them? What makes a man saved, and another damned?¡±


    He shook his head.


    The old man smiled. ¡°It¡¯s something you must find out for yourself. But if you must know, I believe that Marco has gone to heaven.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± he started, trying to find the words, ¡°good, I think. Whatever¡­¡± He stood up. ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®see you later,¡¯ but I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll be a later. And also, blow out those candles. I don¡¯t know how you lit them, but you really shouldn''t have. The whole place¡¯ll go up¡­¡± He started back. ¡°Don¡¯t spend it all in one place.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± the Father said. ¡°Don¡¯t you wanna know where you¡¯re going?¡±


    Vincenzo looked at him, looked at the cross, looked at the door he came through, before finally settling back on him. ¡°Hell, right?¡± There wasn¡¯t any humor in it. ¡°I¡¯ve done enough to deserve it.¡±


    But the Father shook his head. ¡°Not heaven or purgatory either. You¡¯re heading to a fourth place, unknown to me, and I¡¯m guessing most.Your future in the next hour is clear. You will die. But after¡­¡± He turned back to the cross. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s unclear. But I will wish you good luck. Wherever you are going, I will wish you luck.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Vincenzo said, shutting the door behind him. ¡°But don¡¯t waste your breath.¡±


    5


    Waiting around without a single idea as to when the skinhead would come by made Aldo more than a little nervous, especially waiting in the alley by the bar¡¯s back door. The cigarette¡¯s glow lit his face, but that was all, the only other source of comfort being the street light at one end of the alley--and even that was dim. All he had to see with was a weak flame and a weak light. At least it¡¯s a dead end, he thought, looking to his right to see brick blocking the way. One direction to worry about.


    Pasha was hiding in the bar, watching the front door. And Aldo was on the back. And Igor was guarding the door to Geno¡¯s office up in the apartment. All entrances covered.


    He took a deep inhale, shortening the cig to a butt before letting it fall and crushing it, leaving him in the dark. Only the streetlight was left and he intended to keep it that way. He looked up and blew the smog out of his lungs and stifled a cough, gripping his pistol tight. Three hours, this asshole has us waiting, he thought. What¡¯s he trying to do? Did he run¡­? No, I doubt it. Vincenzo was suicidal, it felt like. There was no way he¡¯d run. Aldo focused on the street, made a little nervous by its silence. Jesus, when¡¯s the last time a car came by? I know it¡¯s three o¡¯clock, but come on! Someone always has to get somewhere, no matter the time.


    He shoved those thoughts away and leaned further into the crevices of the night, becoming invisible in the darkness. ¡°Come on, Skinhead,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for ¡®ya.¡±


    6


    Pasha slowly drank his bottle, raising it high over his head as he let the beer flow into him, and upon emptying it, he threw it to the wall and shattered it. Like his father, he was a big man with blue eyes, blonde hair, and pale skin; but he never considered himself like Igor in the slightest. But that wasn¡¯t important. It was the man coming to kill them that he should be focusing on. That¡¯s why he was drinking in the first place. He didn¡¯t dislike Vincenzo at all, to be honest. Hell, he actually kinda liked the guy for what it was worth¡­ But work was work and orders were orders. And the drinks helped loosen him up to the point he could actually see himself offing the guy. Just one, he thought, staring at the door. One in the head and he¡¯s gone. Quick and painless. The recent memory of chopping up Marco in his captain''s bathtub returned and he looked down at the red stains on his shirt, a little drunk. But would he do the same? After what happened? He doubted it. He guessed that the kid--a weird, yet correct way of thinking about him--was ready to make him die slow. Pasha was ready for a lot of things, but he wasn¡¯t ready to die. He was only twenty-six, at his apartment he had a girl ready to suck him off at any time, and he was making better money than anybody else his age. If it was him or Vincenzo, he¡¯d choose Vincenzo.


    Some strange sound in the distance roused him from his thoughts. Music? It was incredibly faint and his own breathing managed to drown it out so he stopped, trying his best to hear. It was getting closer. A car¡­ he knew, but kept listening out of curiosity. A car playing¡­ rock? Yeah, rock. I think. It was a heavy sound full of drums, electric guitars, some kind of weird synthy-sounding third thing that he couldn¡¯t quite identify. And it was getting really close. There was a street outside that almost led straight into the bar, so he guessed that was the road it was coming down. It was getting so close that he could even hear the lyrics, but they were in English, so he couldn¡¯t tell what they were saying. The rev of the engine seemed like it was on top of him and the realization of what was about to happen sobered him up. ¡°No fucking wa--!¡± he said, standing.


    ¡°FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS!¡± the song screamed. A car splintered the front door and wall as it barreled through the place, stopping only when it crashed in the back wall! ¡°TIME MARCHES ON!¡±


    Pasha managed to dive out of the way just in time, narrowly avoiding--judging from the carnage it wrought on the once comfy place--getting killed. He grabbed his pistol and fired at the car with one hand, using the other to get himself back up. Aldo kicked open the back door with all the force his short body could muster and did the same, resulting in the two unloading full magazines into the vehicles widows--every piece of glass on the sides and back were covered in some kind of black paint--as whatever song was playing continued.


    It took a moment for Pasha to figure out bullets had stopped coming out the barrel because he couldn¡¯t hear the clicks.


    ¡°HEY!¡± Aldo yelled, straining his voice to carry it over the instrumental. ¡°HEY, STOP!¡±


    Pasha got the message, lowering his gun as Aldo started to investigate. He covered his ears as he peeked inside, and found it empty. Black plumes of smoke started to rise from the engine and into his lungs, and violent coughs followed as he waved the smog away. Aldo pulled away and screamed again.


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± Pasha asked, wondering if they had him. ¡°I CAN''T HEAR YOU!¡±


    Aldo screamed something a second time, visibly frustrated.


    ¡°WHAT?!¡±


    Aldo formed an ¡°X¡± with his arms and shook his head, pointing to the street outside; Pasha understood. Vincenzo wasn¡¯t there. Adrenaline pumped fast and he tried to fumbl in a new magazine. Aldo tried to do the same and kept his eye on the open wall Vincenzo had graciously gifted them, but cursed when the music stopped him from focusing. He turned around to turn off the music--but stopped dead when he noticed a figure standing just a couple of feet away in the back door¡¯s frame.


    Five shots later and Aldo was knocked on his back, Vincenzo standing over him with a smoking gun in hand.


    Pasha dry swallowed, still fumbling the pistol in his sweaty palms. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi,¡± Vincenzo greeted, not smiling, training his pistol for him next. Pasha could read his lips. ¡°Stand still.¡±


    Pasha sprinted across the bar for the kitchen doors as Vincenzo fired the rest of his clip, bullets ripping through the overturned tables and chairs as the giant Russian tackled the metal entrance, disappearing inside¡­


    7


    ¡°Shit,¡± Vincenzo said, backing up to the car stereo and turning it down to a more manageable volume. He kept a calm gaze on the metal Pasha had run through, knowing that there was a gun in the Russian¡¯s hand. He gripped his own with both hands, creeping towards the still swinging metal, waiting for it to stop completely. He reloaded, thinking of how well the plan actually worked. Just a brick on the pedal and a nearby bike were all he needed, and the blaring music seemed to mess them up a good bit too. Marco was in that music. Don¡¯t get carried away, he reminded himself. You got one, okay? You still got three left. Aldo was easy shit. Short and stupid, the man was a goon. But Pasha had a head. ¡°Three left,¡± he repeated under his breath. ¡°Igor, Pasha, and Geno. Time for Pasha.¡± He ripped off his suit and untucked his white shirt, loosening the tie around his neck too. Before his brain could overthink, he kicked the door and ducked away, seeing and hearing bullets rip through the metal where his body would¡¯ve been if he had just run in. The door swung a little before creaking back into place. Five small holes poked through the thing, letting him know that the Russian had about three left in his mag. At least he thought so, hoping that the vague metal shape in the Russian¡¯s hand was a 1911. In fact, it could¡¯ve held less. Vincenzo fired three of his own through the door into the kitchen, baiting two more blind shots from Pasha in retaliation. He grew still and held his breath yet again, trying to hear if Pasha was reloading instead of keeping his gun trained on the entrance--the sound of his beating heart made it hard, but not impossible.


    It was silent. He kicked the door again hoping for another shot to come, but none did. He¡¯s waiting to see me, he knew. A fake-out isn¡¯t going to work a second time¡­ He wants a sure shot. That¡¯s good. I do too. So he began to think of a plan, looking to the kitchen door and the door that led up to Geno¡¯s apartment to make sure he wasn¡¯t getting company, feeling time slip away faster than he wanted or needed. Even though he had the Russian cornered, it was obvious who had the advantage. All Pasha had to do was hold the angle while one of the two--maybe both, all things considered--others finally decided to come down and investigate. Each second he spent waiting for the Russian to do something was another second the fuckers upstairs spent were making their minds.


    Vincenzo groaned. ¡°Screw it!¡±


    He took a step backwards from the door and charged, bashing his shoulder through as he sprinted across the kitchen!


    It was cramped, the long metal table built into the middle of the ceramic floor was littered with kitchen tools and the like, separating the room into two thin alleys. Pasha was at the end. Vincenzo took aim but the Russian already had his gun up and fired into his gut, fucking up the shot the black-eyed man had lined up. He fired five shots in his attackers direction, gritting his teeth from the pain, but Pasha--just like when Vincenzo¡¯s car had crashed through the place--dove behind the end of the table before the he could actually take aim. And there was a moment of silence.


    He flattened his back against the fridge and felt the wound on his stomach, craning his head down at his hand stupidly; it was covered in a blood, red like the fire he felt around the place the bullet landed. ¡°You cocksucker,¡± Vincenzo growled, glaring at him as he stood back up. ¡°You shot me!¡±


    ¡°I actually liked you, you know,¡± Pasha said, putting the gun on the table and replacing it with a six-inch kitchen knife. ¡°I¡¯m not going to like this at all!¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he muttered, setting his own gun down and pushing himself on the fridge. Not enough space between them to reload, he knew, and it was obvious Pasha got the message too. ¡°Don¡¯t think this¡¯ll stop me. I¡¯m gonna gut you. And I¡¯m gonna enjoy it.¡± He pulled the handle of a steak knife with a three-inch blade and took position in the alley. It wasn¡¯t the best weapon but it¡¯d have to do. Pasha did the same. He actually shot me, Vincenzo¡¯s mind repeated. That fact was ammunition for the rage he was feeling, dulling the pain.


    ¡°Try it,¡± Pasha challenged. He crouched his giant body down a little and readied himself, holding one arm out to grapple with and the other to slash and stab.


    Vincenzo did the same, falling silent. They inched towards each other, each one hesitant to make the first move, each one careful not to take their eyes off each other for a single moment; a single moment¡¯s all it would take. And just like before, time was against Vincenzo. He didn¡¯t know what exactly, but he knew that Pasha had managed to hit something important.


    Pasha lunged, flipping the knife in his hand down as he stabbed at him. Vincenzo grabbed his fist with his left and tried to stab at his stomach with his right, but Pasha grabbed his fist with his free hand before almost getting disemboweled. They grunted as they wrestled, both pushing instead of pulling, before they both broke off, breathing heavy. Pasha came again, this time, flipping his knife in an attempt to stab Vincenzo¡¯s throat. The black-eyed man stepped forwards quick, closing the distance and raising his left shoulder to eat the damage while his knife glided towards the tendon in the inside of Pasha¡¯s elbow--it worked as they both hit their marks, causing grunts of pain and blood to spray. But Pasha¡¯s eyes darted to his hand as he grabbed the handle of a frying pan and slammed the metal into Vincenzo¡¯s face, knocking him back! It was the Russian¡¯s chance to secure the kill so he took it, coming for him again--but without pause, the black-eyed man grabbed a meat tenderizer with his left and hit Pasha right in in his left blue eye before the Russian¡¯s knife could find its target.


    ¡°FUUUCK!¡± Pasha screamed, instinctively grabbing his eye in pain.


    It was a mistake that everyone would make, but that didn¡¯t make it any less fatal. Vincenzo stabbed him quickly in the stomach and slammed the Russian¡¯s body onto the stove, using the dwindling strength in his left arm to hold both others at bay, while his right stabbed and scored Pasha¡¯s stomach in what was no doubt an incredibly painful way--Pasha lost his composure and began to let out short yet terrifying shrieks of pain and fear.


    Vincenzo laughed, feeling an unhealthy joy from the triumph. ¡°Huh?! What did you thay befowe?!¡± he yelled. ¡°Huh?!¡±


    Pasha was wailing the way a gazelle would when a lion mounted it, a true death wail.


    ¡°You thaid, ¡®twry it,¡¯ wright?!¡±


    He tossed the knife away and shoved his right hand in the bloody mess that used to be Pasha¡¯s abs and rummaged through the area, pulling out what he could only guess were his small intestines. Pasha¡¯s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his life escaped in one final shudder.


    ¡°How¡¯th thith!?¡± he screamed, and let go of the man as he quieted and crumpled to the floor. Vincenzo dropped the gore on his face, feeling the sticky blood drip from his hand. ¡°Huh?! You¡¯re not talking thit now, wight?! Fucking morohn¡­¡±


    But Pasha couldn¡¯t answer. His exhausted panting barely slowed as he rested against the table, unable to look at anything but the flesh that used to be Pasha, scooting farther from the corpse when the blood started to pool.


    ¡°Fuck meh,¡± Vincenzo finally managed to say, his bloody hand staining half his face before he remembered that it was, indeed, bloody. He pulled it away, looked at it a moment, and wiped the rest off on his shirt. My nose is broken, he realized, pain returning. Front teeth are broken too.


    It was just like that one time, he thought, when the group was hanging around Geno¡¯s apartment doing coke. He wasn¡¯t crazy about it and refused at first, but Aldo--the motherfucking rat piece of shit--said some shit like, Don¡¯t pressure him, he¡¯s just a kid. And while it sounds innocent enough, it was that rat¡¯s smug grin that really pissed him off. So he did a line--more than a line. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in an alley next to some guy he vaguely remembered beating to death. And he didn¡¯t even know why he did. It all felt¡­ pointless¡­ Don¡¯t look away, some part of himself commanded. You did it. Own it.


    So he did. Two to go.


    He stood up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, nose, and stomach. He got me good, he knew. Real good. Which is when he finally noticed Igor by the open door, staring at him with the same eyes he¡¯d used to stare at an interesting looking car driving down the street, a pretty sunset, and roadkill. Igor looked at his son and back at Vincenzo, his face expressionless the entire time.


    Then he lunged, huge hands grabbing him by the neck, choking the life out of him. Vincenzo reached for his knife, or anything that he could use to bash the Russian¡¯s brain or slice his throat with, but Igor pulled him up with ease and smashed him against the table, bouncing the Italian¡¯s shaven head against the solid metal. Vincenzo couldn¡¯t get a breath in, his bloody mouth gasping, bubbling up blood into a foam. Igor¡¯s hands were like clamps. He tried to curse at the calm killer but only a gurgling came out, and he started to strike at his face, landing a solid blow against Igor¡¯s straight nose, crushing it. But the Russian didn¡¯t even flinch, only strangling the Italian even harder as blood poured from crooked nostrils and onto his face. In thirty seconds, if Vincenzo didn¡¯t break Igor¡¯s old, he was fucked. He moved his hands to Igor¡¯s wrists and forearms, trying to pry them off his neck--but Igor was strong, crazy strong. That wouldn¡¯t work. In one final act of desperation, with long arms, he reached out and dug his thumbs into the Russian¡¯s dead eyes, and even that only resulted in a tighter grip. Igor was fucking crazy. There were maybe ten seconds of thought left, and he used it. If Igor had no eyes to watch, he could grab something without having to worry about the back of his head getting bashed. Without turning his head, he groped for his knife, blind to everything as red fell into his black eyes. There were five seconds left as he frantically grabbed around, but everything he came near he accidentally pushed away, and so his grasping grew even wilder. Come on! Come on! Fuck, anything, give me anything! he prayed to no one. Nothing met his palm. I¡¯ll take a goddamned toothpick, just give me something! He was fading and everything started to seem fake. Please! Come o--! He got the handle of something and swung at Igor, and that something connected. The Russian¡¯s hands retreated and Vincenzo spit out the froth, taking in air as it came, his throat on fire. ¡°Basthtard¡­¡± he choked out, coughing after the one word. He wiped his eyes clean to see what he¡¯d done.


    Igor¡¯s hands were wrapped around his own bloody neck, his blue eyes gouged out--even then, they were looking at him. Vincenzo looked down at his right hand and found another knife, its blade red. He finished the job and staggered out, making his way for the door leading up to Geno.


    One to go.


    8


    He shot the knob and let himself in, wincing at the metal pebble floating around somewhere in his body and his broken nose. ¡°They¡¯we all dead, Geno, you athhole! Igor, Aldo, Patha--I got them all! It¡¯th your tuwn! Now get out herwe before I drag you out! Make thith eathy on me, ow I¡¯ll make it hawd on you! You got that! WELL!?¡± He made it up the stairs and shot the second knob, storming in gun drawn.


    He stood in the middle of the living room, hearing the muffled sound of sirens approaching in the distance. Where is he? he thought, looking wildly around the place for his captain. There¡¯s no way he ran! But the notion seemed realistic. ¡°Geno!¡± he said, holding his stomach, feeling anger¡¯s painkiller work its magic. ¡°Whewe awe you! Get out here! Don¡¯t make me--!¡±


    But something caught his attention, making him even paler. The space just above Geno¡¯s couch was empty. Oh damn, he thought. He heard a door creak open behind him and turned his broken face.


    Geno stepped outside of the closet right next to the entrance, wearing the weapon on his back, glaring at his target with a silent determination.


    But it wasn¡¯t just Geno there. Behind him was a shape. A womanly shape. A dark shape whose intent was on him. It was a ghost.


    9


    Time seemed to stop. All Vincenzo could do was watch as Geno¡¯s finger paused on the trigger. He couldn¡¯t move, though he was trying a hell of a lot. The only thing he had any power over were his eyes; they went to the ghost. Standing just behind Geno with its black head peeking out from over his shoulder, it watched him back. That¡¯s when it all made sense.


    I get it, he thought. I¡¯m going to die. I¡¯m going to burn¡­ Isn¡¯t my life supposed to flash before my eyes? It was more than fine that it didn¡¯t happen. There wasn¡¯t much he wanted to relive. The few good memories he had were tainted by the bad. Nothing good in his life had stayed good. Now he was going to die. But I knew that. The Father told me this would happen, and I believed him, then¡­ He felt calm--ready. He¡¯d been ready for a long time. And now was the time. That¡¯s fine. At least I¡¯m not leaving anything behind. Vincenzo had no friends, no family (Marco was it and he was dead), and not even a lover.


    He looked at the ghost. It was an angel, or a demon, or some kind of messenger of death, or some kind of guide to the afterlife. Whatever it was, it was an emissary of the End.


    Without a word, it sunk behind Geno.


    Time continued on.


    10


    Vincenzo began to take aim, but Geno was quicker--a great breath of fire shot out the nozzle and covered him completely.


    You motherfu--was his last sane thought before all he could think about was the pain. He managed to fire twice before he completely succumbed to the torture, hitting Geno¡¯s tank, causing another explosion to spread all over the apartment. He heard it happen. It was a dominating, horrible feeling as the fire ate away his skin, burned his eyes, ripped at his penis, and made the only feeling he could manage one of agony¡­ The only thing his half-crazed mind managed to do was send him smashing against every wall, spreading the flames all across the small room, before he blindly charged ahead, screaming.


    That was when he burst through the window and fell, falling three stories onto his skull, ending his suffering in an instant.


    And then the burning stopped and he started to suffocate, a warm slime surrounding his body on every side, and all at once his sanity came back to him. He opened the eyes he had felt melt inside his skull just seconds prior and saw blackness, and he opened his mouth and felt a liquid earth fill his tongue and squirm down his throat. Panic got his arms and legs moving before his confused mind had the chance, feeling the mud--he knew it was mud by the sensation of it on his naked skin and the taste in his mouth--give way as he thrashed upwards, the wish for air trumping any questions he might¡¯ve had in calmer circumstances. He spit out what was in his mouth and pressed the lips that had curled and fell off in the heat tight, shutting his eyes as the rest of him tunneled up and up and up--and finally one arm made it into the open air where it fell back on the ground as his only grip, until his other arm caught a hold too. With that he pulled himself out out and drank his first breath since he was set on fire, wiping the mud from his eyes.


    His first sane thought as half his body--caked in black mud, but otherwise unharmed--and felt the breeze of a forest of night was such: ¡°What the fuck is going on!?¡±

 The Fourth Place

    1


    ¡°Pay attention,¡± he commanded, waking her up from the quick nap she snuck into. The little girl raised her head groggily and rested it on her hand, her half-open eyes looking in the direction of her disappointed father. ¡°I asked you, what''s twenty multiplied by eleven?¡±


    She slowly blinked and pretended to be thinking of an answer, studying her environment idly instead. If he didn¡¯t want me sleeping, he should¡¯ve chosen a less cozy place¡­ she thought, looking down at the bark he pulled for her to write on. The trees cast the area in deep shadow, blocking them from the harsh sun; a small stream ran behind them, its gentle trickling like soft music to her ears; and the insects buzzed around from mossy tree to mossy rock, shining their colorful bodies as they danced¡ªit was all very relaxing. Not to mention the fact that the forest was a comfortable temperature, mimicking the way she felt when blankets covered her and the rest of the room was cold. All being there did was make her want to sleep, and she already wanted to sleep before they even got there. She felt like napping again; her head became heavy, and her eyelids did the same, bringing her back down on the stump¡­


    ¡°PLUM!¡± her father yelled, slamming his palm on her makeshift desk.


    ¡°I¡¯m awake!¡± she said, jolting upright. ¡°I¡¯m awake! Dang!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, I¡¯m just sleepy,¡± said Plum. ¡°Leave me alone¡­¡± She climbed off the overturned log and started to walk away.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± he asked, unkindly. ¡°We¡¯re not done here yet! You haven''t answered a single question right, so we have a lot more work to do. Someone your age should be at a higher level than this. Don¡¯t you walk away from me!¡±


    She turned around and looked straight at her father in rebellion, her small face frowning, and her hands curled into fists. She patted down her simple pink dress, whose hem ended just above knee, and made sure the red bow tied to her long braid was in order as well. With that straightened out, Plum shut her eyes and stuck out her tongue, an act of disrespect her father gasped at. Satisfied, she walked off.


    ¡°Plum!¡± he yelled. ¡°Get back here right now!¡±


    But she was already gone


    2


    Cammo grunted to himself and pushed aside the bark and knife he¡¯d given her to work with off the stump, using it as a seat. He pushed his hair back behind his ears. His dull red t-shirt, baggy red pants, and matching boots suddenly felt hot despite the cool climate, and he began to sweat. What a day, he thought, fanning himself with the discarded bark. No matter how much time had passed, too much time alone with his only daughter drained his soul, and he guessed it drained hers as well. Cammo couldn¡¯t deny that. Plum was his wife¡¯s job.


    As if summoned by the thought, she stepped through the trees behind him. Cammo turned only his head, watching her out of the corner of his eye, still fanning himself with the bark. She was as pretty as the day he met her, despite how hollow her cheeks had become, and she met Cammo with the same white nightgown she slipped in and out of bed with, her feet bare like her daughter. Cammo straightened as she came near, his eyes and hers on the same level; that was a rarity, as he stood more than a foot above her usually. Locine smiled weakly¡ªall her smiles were weak¡ªand raised the bottom of her gown, exposing her bare knees to the grass and dirt as she knelt. Her scarlet hair, wavy and long, met the tall grass and swayed along with it in the breeze. Cammo turned on the stump.


    ¡°Locine,¡± he said, ¡°she ran away.¡±


    ¡°I have ears, Cammo,¡± she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple. ¡°Why do you have to yell at her? She¡¯s dealing with enough right now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why she has to toughen up,¡± said he. ¡°Things are changing, Locine. The Blood Moon is a way off yet¡­ but it may come when it¡¯s just me and her. She has to be ready for that.¡±


    Locine frowned. ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°Another half-year,¡± Cammo said. ¡°And I think it¡¯s time for her to watch.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ but she¡¯s only eleven, Cammo. Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. ¡°She needs to see danger to believe it. Your horror stories aren¡¯t enough, though I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve given her her fair share of nightmares. But as you¡¯ve seen, she¡¯s stopped having them a long time ago. She¡¯s a big girl now. Reality is what she needs to have nightmares about.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re just stories, Cammo,¡± she said. ¡°To entertain and distract from¡­¡± She grabbed the bark and examined the scratching upon its back. ¡°Sums? Really, Cammo? I¡¯d run away.¡± She tossed it aside, another wan smile on her face. ¡°She gets that from me, I bet. You know I was never good with numbers¡­¡±


    ¡°Locine,¡± he began, coming off the stump, ¡°how much time do you think you have?¡±


    She¡¯d been sick. And that sickness had taken hold at the beginning of the year, always growing worse and never improving, no matter what they tried. It wasn¡¯t contagious, thankfully, but that was where their blessings ended. It made her ribs show and hollowed out her eyes, making her look half a skeleton. Cammo knew that it was just a matter of time. Recently, she even began coughing up blood in violent fits where no water could heal her throat.


    She looked at him in the eyes and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. ¡°Not long,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe¡­ no, not even three months.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that!¡± he exclaimed, frustration coloring his stony face. ¡°You have to have more time than that!¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± she said, surprising him. Locine was not a screamer. ¡°We both know that what I¡¯ve been doing hasn¡¯t been working. We both know that I¡¯ve been getting weaker with every passing day. And we both know that there isn¡¯t anything we can do¡­ I¡¯m going to die.¡±


    He shut up and tore his gaze away, facing towards the nature surrounding them for any kind of guidance. All she had done was state the truth out loud, where he¡¯d only been thinking it. No doubt Plum was thinking it too, he thought, wondering where it was she had left for. Plum used to be scared of him, but now she turned disrespectful. Whether that was up to age or Locine¡¯s condition, Cammo guessed both had a play.


    Locine got up and rested her forehead against his back, interlocking her fingers with his. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I could only give you one child,¡± she said, her voice quiet again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t give her any siblings, or you any sons, or any more daughters.¡±


    Cammo took a deep breath in. ¡°Never apologize,¡± Cammo said, squeezing her hand back. He couldn¡¯t blame her for that. They¡¯d tried more times than they could count but only Plum made it through. Locine¡¯s injury considered, Plum was a miracle. ¡°I knew what I was getting into, and I don¡¯t regret it.¡± His stony expression returned. ¡°So never apologize¡­ You¡¯ve done enough. Understand?¡±


    He could feel her nod against his back.


    ¡°I just¡­¡± he sighed, ¡°I just don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to deal with her without you.¡±


    ¡°Look at me,¡± she said. He did, and when he did she grabbed his face and pulled him down, planting a deep kiss on his lips. ¡°You¡¯ll do great.¡± The next one was a peck. ¡°She¡¯ll be back by sundown, right?¡±


    ¡°She always is,¡± Cammo said. His face gave her no hint of a grin, but she was married to him long enough to know it was just hiding. ¡°You know that.¡±


    The smile was weak but sultry as well. ¡°Good¡­¡± she said, in her eyes a goal Cammo could very much get behind. ¡°I¡¯ll be too weak for it soon enough¡­ Wanna roll, my love?¡±


    The smile was in his eyes. A nice ¡°roll¡± would be a welcome distraction. ¡°I always do.¡±


    He put a hand under her knees and behind her back, picking her up with a small yelp of surprise. ¡°Cammo!¡± she giggled, blushing. ¡°You beast!¡±


    ¡°Come on, love,¡± he said. ¡°Let''s roll.¡±


    3


    Plum ran for half an hour before stopping at the foot of an exceptionally tall tree, panting as she bent forwards with hands on her knees. The hill she stood on was a steep one, and peaceful too. It was her favorite place. Not the ground, though. It was the top of tree that she loved the most¡ªan arduous climb due but not an impossible one, as she made it many times before. Still, she cursed her height and cursed the tree¡¯s height too; standing at almost twenty-five feet, the thing was twice as tall over the average twelve that all the other trees in the forest grew to. She didn¡¯t let that stop her from gripping the bark with her small hands and climbing up its trunk, grunting as she pulled her smallness up and up and up, her fingers and toes gripping the bark as she caught her breath before moving along again. Cammo didn¡¯t approve. But Cammo didn¡¯t approve of anything she did, so why care? Stupid¡­ she thought, grabbing a branch while gaining a foothold. I¡¯m not some little kid anymore¡­ All he ever seemed to do was show disappointment, or scream at her, and sometimes ask, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± She hated that one habit the most, because all she could think was, If there¡¯s something wrong with me, and you made me, then what¡¯s wrong with you? And every day she was closer to saying it out loud.


    Her legs still felt sore from the running so she rested on one of the branches, where she then looked up to see how far she¡¯d gone. There was only a quarter of the tree¡¯s height to go before she was at the top. Her mind started to wander as she wiped the sweat on her forehead¡­ and it wandered straight into the sore subject that was her mother¡¯s condition. She shook her head fiercely and went back to climbing, pushing that reality behind her current one¡ªreaching the top. And in under a minute, she did. The large tree that stuck out of the hill wasn¡¯t her favorite because it was peaceful (everywhere was) or pretty (everywhere was) or safe (everywhere was)¡ªit was because it was high. It so high that she could see the entirety of the forest uninterrupted; plus, the breeze felt nice on her skin and the top branches shielded her from the sun''s rays. She was getting so comfortable that the heaviness of her head and eyes started to return, but she snapped herself awake. I¡¯m not going to have another nightmare, she swore to herself. I just won¡¯t sleep. Simple as that¡­! But it didn''t feel so simple.


    Last night she dreamt that her mother had woken her up in the middle of night by coughing, but her father hadn¡¯t moved an inch, his body like stone on their bed. Then her mother began to vomit blood, before collapsing on their stained sheets and ceasing to move. And no matter how much she screamed for Locine to move or Cammo to wake up, they didn¡¯t hear. She herself couldn¡¯t do a thing as the sheets she was sleeping under tucked themselves in so tight that it was hard to breathe¡­


    The only nice part about them was that they only came once in a while¡­but that too was changing. It now seemed that she got the stupid things every other night, which made getting decent sleep harder than it¡¯d ever been in her entire life. Naps were fine, however, and to Cammo¡¯s anger she took them any chance she could. Nightmares were Locine¡¯s¡ªlike almost everything apart from sums and other boring subjects¡ªdomain, and it was her Plum would come to when she had a terror in her sleep. But this one she kept to herself. The last thing she wanted her mother to know was how scared she was about her sickness, especially after she¡¯d gone to great lengths to feign ignorance; she did it for herself as well. She didn¡¯t want to think about it. Who would? It was easier to ignore it and hope it¡¯d go away. Fat chance of that, her mind muttered. You¡¯re dreaming about it to for a reason.


    Plum looked towards home to distract and entertain herself. Even from this distance the place stuck out like a sore thumb, filling her with some strange nostalgia despite her still living there. It was an absolutely massive ivory tree that stood almost forty feet in the air, wide enough to live in¡ªwhich they did, hollowing out three stories and a basement¡ªand live comfortably, with branches high, making up a wide and flat crown of dark purple leaves. From this far, it kind of looks like a mushroom, she thought. But only if you squint. Her father had felled the branches along the trunk to unblock window views, keeping the ones at the very top for shade and shielding from rain. She could barely see the crops that surrounded it because of the trees but felt hungry thinking about them either way. Still, she didn¡¯t want to go home just yet. Her father was no doubt complaining about his disappointment of a daughter and her mother was no doubt coughing blood into a bucket. She didn¡¯t even know if she wanted to come by sundown, despite all her mother¡¯s warnings. Alone, she pouted. And her head felt heavy¡­


    She hugged the up-tilted branch she¡¯d been sitting on and secured her position, knowing that a fall from this high would NOT be good. She also forgot the promise she made to herself about staying awake. I wonder what they¡¯re doing, she wondered as the call to shut down became impossible to ignore. As she experienced, naps were fine. So, she hugged the wood and shut her eyes, drifting off into sleep¡­


    4


    Locine hadn¡¯t aged a day in Cammo¡¯s eyes, and the feeling of her body against his was all the proof he needed as he pumped in and out of her with a hungry grin, pinning her arms to the bed as he looked in her eyes. Pausing, he bent his back forward to reach the supple mounds that were her breast, sucking on them as a moment of reprieve before straightening himself out and thrusting again. ¡°Oh!¡± she moaned, crossing her legs and locking him there. ¡°Cammo!¡±


    In his mind, there were three things needed to keep a relationship alive: a goal, love, and some nice fun in bed. And Locine had given him all three.


    It almost felt as if the room was melting away, leaving them in a void occupied by just the two of them as he lowered and raised himself in and out of her in an act he liked to call love. The shelves of preserved fruits were gone. The woven mats and carpets were gone. The fleshy wooden walls and floors were gone. Her sword, small and thin, and his, thick and wide, were also gone. The stairs leading up and down the entire house was gone. And even the bed they were using to facilitate coitus was gone. Just her and him, melting together as one. He kissed her deeply, letting go of her hands to hold her head and lower back, where she kept a grievous scar. It felt like a moment that could last forever, as even time began to melt away¡­ But the moment he pulled his head back, she breathed in, and it sounded wet and clogged.


    Locine pushed him away with both arms, using the moment he leaned back surprised to unlock her legs and gain some distance, turning away. All Cammo could do was stare, confused, until she grabbed a clean rag nearby and began to cough into it violently, her whole body heaving. She¡¯s sick, he suddenly remembered, his expression hardening. You were too rough, fool. She can¡¯t handle that right now. He scooted over and patted her back as she sat up. ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asked, grabbing the blanket they threw aside in their fervor and putting it over her shoulders. ¡°Did I hurt you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she protested in between coughs. ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I ruined it¡­¡±


    He just sat in silence, waiting the full minute it took for her lungs to calm down. When she was done, he just slid the tin bucket full of other stained rags towards her. She halfheartedly tossed the one in her hands with the others. ¡°What did I say about apologizing?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. Obviously, I was too¡ª¡±


    ¡°You were too nothing!¡± she snapped, stifling another cough that followed the outburst. ¡°It¡¯s ME. I was the one who overestimated myself, okay? I thought I could do it, and I was wrong. I thought I was healthy enough, but I wasn¡¯t¡­ How could you have known? You were more gentle, too, this time. It was just me.¡±


    And then they were both silent. It felt like they reached the point of no return¡ªthat it was getting close to the end. Their conversation in the afternoon reared its ugly head. ¡°I¡¯m going out,¡± Cammo said, getting up.


    ¡°What? Where?¡± she asked, watching him dry off. ¡°Cammo?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± he began. He tried to face her but couldn¡¯t, looking away. ¡°I just need to swallow this, Locine. It¡¯s a hard thing to swallow. And if your time is coming¡­¡± He frowned, one hand becoming a fist. ¡°Me and Plum can¡¯t stay if you aren¡¯t here. We just can¡¯t. I¡­ I just need some time to think, love. I need to make plans. You know I won¡¯t be gone for long.¡± He got dressed. ¡°Not long at all, I swear. Just a bit of time to myself¡­¡± He started down the stairs.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    He stopped and turned towards her. His eyes were wet and close to tearing, a sight that she only saw once during their many, many years together. Cammo was the definition of stoic, and ¡°stoic¡± did not mean emotionless. Like her, he realized that the estimation she gave concerning how long she had to live was wrong¡ªit was shorter. And he would deal with that fact his own way: alone. ¡°I got to go now,¡± he said, hiding his face by turning his attention towards the bottom of the stairs. ¡°The jers will be roaming soon¡­¡± He snatched his sword and slipped the holster over his back. ¡°Get some sleep, drink some water, and rest up. I won¡¯t be long.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it¡­¡± She changed the sheets as quickly as her weakened body could manage and laid down. ¡°Good luck, bring something big.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± he said, and went.


    5


    Plum woke up in a cold sweat, shivering in the dark from the nightmare that visited her once again¡­ It wasn¡¯t a nap she had fell into; it was sleep. She wiped her face and sat up, setting her back on the tree trunk as her heavy breathing slowed to a calm. It¡¯s night, she suddenly realized. The stars had shown themselves and the sun left the sky. It¡¯d been noon when she climbed. I must¡¯ve overslept. The forest looked no different to her in the night, her eyes making every dark crevice seem just as clear as one thrown into the sun. The only difference is what hung above them. The young girl flipped onto her stomach, hugged the branch she sat on again and placed her feet on the trunk she was resting on, using the position to push herself forwards and see them clearly:


    The two moons were full, she saw. The larger of the two¡ªgrey and glowing¡ªalways filled her with a strange sense of loneliness. But the smaller one¡­ that creeped her out to no end. It was a tiny red ball when compared to her brother, but it dominated the night sky, its fleshy surface failing to reflect the light of the sun as her brother had done. The Blood Moon, she thought, staring with both fascination and fear. It rotated around its neighbor so fast that it could jump from the back of the grey moon to its front in a single night, almost like it was alive. But then again it didn¡¯t surprise the little girl. It was alive after all. Her mother had told her so.


    Studying the alien body didn¡¯t just make her scared¡ªa normal response¡ªbut it also made her curious. Curious of the world outside the forest she¡¯d been living in for years. Curious of the people who inhabited. Curious of the creatures, and curious¡­ of the moon-men. Her mother told her story after story about all of them, about how they fought, cooperated, and lived together after the Blood Moon came from the deep black that she called ¡°space¡±. She wanted to see each one with her own eyes: the cappellas, people with hooves, horns, and rectangle eyes; the tousks, giant people with bone crowns, tusks for noses, and solid green eyes; the avilops, with their colorful skin, scales on their hands and feet, and the wings that let them fly; the hiddunsons, beautiful people with rock-colored skin, pointed ears that stuck out the top of their head like a dogs (whatever they were), long and slender tails with hearts on the ends (if they were female), and four eyes that sat beside their special noses; the doggs, an unfortunate looking species with four legs, strange hands, and complete lack of a head (one of the species inhabiting the world that she most wanted to see); the rare slikes that she never even got a good description of; the horrible deffs, bug-like things with no sense of anything but their queen and her success (at least as Locine claimed); and other emps like herself¡­ There were more, but those were the ones she really wanted to meet.


    But above all, she wanted to see the moon-men. The moment I leave this place I¡¯m gonna hunt them down, she swore to herself. They were the only reason she was stuck in the forest, never meeting anyone new, or seeing anything unique. Locine had made that very clear. She looked at the Blood Moon and stuck out her tongue. One day¡­ when I¡¯m an adult. I¡¯ll hunt them and make it safe for everyone. No one will have to hide then.


    And among the worst was the Black King, the Ruler of Everything. He was the monster Locine warned her about, the one who interrupted almost every epic and gave it an unhappy ending, and the one that practically imprisoned her to this forest¡­ Black eyes, her mother warned. Plum, if you ever meet a man with olive skin and black eyes: hide or run. And then her mother showed her daughter a gruesome scar trailing all across her back.


    He did that? Plum remembered asking.


    Locine shook her head. No. If he were there, I wouldn¡¯t be here. No, it was his spawn. And like him, she had black eyes¡­ That''s what all those Guerrieros have. Black eyes with whites surrounding them¡­ Promise me, Plum, that you¡¯ll run away.


    So she promised.


    Plum looked towards home after replaying the scene in her mind. Were they worried about her? Probably. Did she care? No. Should she start heading back? Also probably. She may not have cared if Cammo had worried, but Locine¡­ With that, she decided to head back.


    She started climbing back down, a process that was always ten times easier than climbing up, and reached the cool grass feeling refreshed. Even if she couldn¡¯t escape her nightmare, sleeping out alone and among the trees made her feel like something lifted from her shoulders. I¡¯ll come back here, she thought, grinning at the tree in thanks. She turned towards home and started walking, feeling the night breeze caress her cheeks in only the way the night could. It had been a good night. The sky was cloudless and cool, and the critters and bugs of the forest chittered and chirped a melody that calmed her mind.


    But her peaceful hike was interrupted by an ominous light that spread across everything¡ªit was the color red. The ground, the bark of the trees, the rocks, and the leaves started to almost glow, throwing the parts that weren¡¯t touched by the bloody color in a stark contrast. In an instant her entire world either became a dull red or the black of space. An icy knife stabbed her in the back because she knew exactly what that color meant: The Blood Moon opened.


    Turning so quickly that she almost tripped, she saw it floating high: the celestial body positioned itself in the middle of its brother, a long slit widening from the top to the bottom, revealing the absolutely evil eye that hid beneath. It covered the entirety of its surface, the vertical iris shone red, only stopped by the whites that surrounded it. It¡¯s looking at me, Plum thought for a moment, frozen. And her heart stopped. Reality saved her. It¡¯s not looking at me, she told herself. The worlds a big place, Plum. It is NOT looking at you. But the sense of danger persisted. I have to get home. Now. She turned back to the mix of red and black her once colorful forest turned into and ran for home.


    The moon-men were coming.


    6


    The glow creeping in Locine¡¯s window woke her up, and when she realized what was happening, she forgot her illness. She got up, ignoring her weak lungs and ran up and down the stairs of their home, scanning each floor for Plum or Cammo¡ªbut found none of them. She sprinted up the stairs still ignoring the pleas for her injured body to stop and grabbed her sword¡ªa rusted dull thing that was better than nothing¡ªand a small cloth bag that fit in the palm of her hand. She ran out the house and quickly glanced over the crops for her family, but they weren¡¯t there either. The forest was a mess of black and red.


    ¡°Plum!¡± she screamed; her was voice hoarse from the coughing. ¡°Cammo!¡±


    She stared up at the sky and saw the giant eye close, taking the light with it, and the forest returned to normal. The browns were brown, the greens were green, and every other color matched itself. If any moon-men were coming, then, they¡¯re here now, she knew. She also knew that the ¡°secret¡± place Plum seemed to love wasn¡¯t that far off. Cammo could watch himself fine.


    Locine broke into a light jog still carrying the sword, hoping that she¡¯d make it in time.


    7


    Cammo was sitting down upon the corpse of his prey, staring up at the moons in silence, making plans as he promised. The jer he sat on made a comfortable enough seat with its green fur and still warm body¡ªas long as he ignored the fact that he twisted its head one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. In any case, he considered the spot the perfect place to sit and ponder. If Locine¡­ When she dies¡­ he started to think. We¡¯ll need to leave. This land is not for emps. This land is for the animals of its forest and them alone.


    But before his mind could delve into specifics, the red glow of the moon covered all. Half a year ahead of schedule, the evil eye of the Blood Moon opened.


    There was no time to wonder how his calculations could be so wrong¡ªeven after his double, triple, and quadruple checks¡ªbecause his family was in mortal danger. Cammo got up, pushed his long hair behind his ear, took leather out of his pocket, and put it over his face.


    8


    The eye closing was nothing to Plum as the damage had already been done; moon-men were about, somewhere out in the woods, and if they caught her¡­ Every twig that snapped, every echo of a call, every vague silhouette, and every shift in the wind sent shivers scraping against her spine. All of it was enough to make her creep along, careful not to make a noise that anything stalking the forest could hear. She slapped both of her chubby cheeks, feeling the sting steady her nerves. ¡°I am NOT scared,¡± she said aloud, forcing an expression of bravery. ¡°Not a bit¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good!¡± a feminine and familiar voice called.


    Plum looked up to see Locine jogging towards her. ¡°Mama!¡±


    Locine stopped and knelt down, gripping her daughter tight as Plum ran into her arms. ¡°Oh, I was so scared¡­ Plum¡­ I was so, so scared¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, though, right?¡± Plum said, pulling away and smiling. ¡°You¡¯re here now, after all!¡±


    Locine pressed her finger against Plum¡¯s lips, closing them. ¡°Keep it down. I¡¯m not as powerful as I once was¡­ We need your father, understand?¡±


    Plum nodded quietly, but she didn¡¯t believe it. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Then let''s go,¡± she said, gripping Plum¡¯s hand and pulling her along. ¡°They have to be out of the dirt by now¡­ Keep an eye ou¡ª¡±


    The sound of stomping stopped another word coming out of her mouth, and her pale skin grew paler. Nothing in the forest made such a noise; not even them. Plum knew immediately what it was, darting her head in its direction: A moon-man.


    ¡°Run,¡± said Locine.


    She could handle it, Plum thought. Her mother was sick, not dead, so she found herself asking, ¡°What?¡±


    But Locine¡¯s will was absolute. ¡°I said to run.¡± Plum opened her mouth to protest but Locine was quicker, slapping her hard across the cheek. ¡°Run. Do not make me repeat myself. Do. Not.¡±


    Plum could only rub her cheek. Her mother never hit her¡ªnever. Neither of her parents ever had. And the craziest part was that there was no hesitance in her mother¡¯s movements, no remorse; just the resolve of a woman who was doing what had to be done. Locine grabbed two seeds out the small pouch in her hand and put them under her tongue, never looking away from the noise of hard footfalls and tired groaning. All it took to send Plum running was the smallest of glance back in her direction. Plum left her alone then with no problem, only perking her ears to hear her mother yell:


    ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡±


    The thumping quickened in reply and neared fast.


    9


    Plum hadn¡¯t run far¡ªmostly because Locine hadn¡¯t turned to check¡ªand she felt comfortable in the bushes nearby, only twenty feet behind them. She¡¯ll be okay, Plum thought to herself. The fear from her solitude had melted away the moment her mother came on the scene, and Plum knew deep in her heart that her mother would be fine.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Then she saw it: the moon-man stood on two legs, like them, and stepped forwards out of the brush. ¡°Woah!¡± she whispered involuntarily, covering her big mouth with both hands right after. He¡¯s a giant!


    He¡ªshe could see it was a ¡°he¡± by the dangling bits around his groin¡ªwas eight feet tall and muscled like a beast. And like a beast, the thing was covered in wiry black fur that stretched from head to toe, only growing thin on the soles of the feet, the palms of the hands, and the entirety of its face. His solid yellow eyes were glowing as he stared unblinking, and his nose¡ªa strange big thing that separated and pointed up in opposite directions like the trunks of jers¡ªflared as he studied her. But if these were the only differences between emps and¡­ whatever it was, it wouldn¡¯t have been so bad. That wasn¡¯t the case, however, because its massive head seemed to connect to its torso without a neck. It looked like a simple hump above the shoulders, a simple hump with a mouth that stretched wide to either side of its head, a mouth with jagged teeth that she could spot from under the leaves whenever it opened its thin lips. And it had the mark of the moon, an unmistakable thing: a jagged red ¡°X¡± stuck to his chest, fur, and skin, wrapping around its torso and to its back to complete the symbol. He was a moon-man from deep in space, alive and well despite the mud that had begun to dry to his fur.


    ¡°You!¡± Locine said, bringing strength to her voice that Plum had not heard in months. Plum hoped it was no act. ¡°Before this comes to violence, state your name! State your name!¡±


    Rage came to his face faster than Plum would have liked, but that was okay as long as the creature stayed far. ¡°I,¡± he began, his husky, deep voice rattling both of their bones, ¡°am Boon!¡± Boon threw his hands up in introduction. ¡°I am a brigand of the starship, Star Swallower, and I will not be treated with disrespect, especially by some puny cunt like you! You will answer my questions with speed and accuracy!¡±


    Plum didn¡¯t like his voice at all, but upon a close hearing, she could hear the fear in it. Of course he¡¯s scared, she thought, ignoring the difference in size between her mother and him. I¡¯d be¡­ not scared, but surprised if I woke up in a strange place like this¡­ The Blood Moon didn¡¯t educate the moon-men when it brought them to their new home, so most spent their first moments on their new world in scared, dazed ignorance¡ªa dangerous combination for all involved. Plum didn¡¯t know what a ¡°starship¡± was, but she knew brigands.


    Locine tried to keep it peaceful. ¡°Boon. My name is Locine Noowurl, and I¡¯ll keep the explanation brief¡ª¡±


    The monster lunged at her!


    ¡°Fucking¡ª!¡± Locine said, ¡°FOOL!¡±


    A yellow aura exploded out of the woman, lighting up her body the same time a smile lit up her daughter''s face and Plum stifled a giddy squeal, excited to the brink. Locine threw her foot up and smashed the heel into Boon¡¯s stomach, forcing a pained exhale out of the giant beast as well as his pause, before kicking off him into a backflip. She landed almost ten feet away, so fast that neither Plum nor the beast could track her. Locine straightened herself out and spit the seeds like bullets, launching them right next to Boon. He looked up at her and growled, but the confusion on his face was obvious. Plum bet that he never expected such a small woman to pack such a punch, and it was all thanks to her Glow.


    It both enveloped and hung behind Locine at the same time, its color thicker around the edges of her body as it overlapped with itself, in a constant flow around her. The yellow was not powerful enough to overwhelm the white of her gown, the color of her skin, and the red of hair, but it was evident enough that it had power. Two inches of the strange energy clung to her body on every side, extending her silhouette. ¡°Listen well!¡± Locine commanded, staring at her attacker and pointing the sword at his face. ¡°I am a wizard! If you thought that just because I was smaller than you that I¡¯d fall easy, then think again! This is my Glow! It is my well of strength, my speed, my accuracy, and my agility! I was willing to resolve this peacefully¡­ but you¡¯ve forced my hand, moon-man. Don¡¯t beg for mercy. Grow Moan!¡±


    At her command the seeds she spit grew with what was only a supernatural speed, becoming two toothed plants that bit into Boon the moment they could! They wrapped around their prey, intertwining their bodies with his, stopping any form of retaliation that might¡¯ve come their way¡­ and began to suck.


    ¡°You bug!¡± Boon screamed. ¡°Disgusting worm! I¡¯ll tear out your¡ª!¡±


    She tossed a large stone at his forehead which bounced off with a crack. ¡°You¡¯ll tear out my what?¡± She threw another, this time putting all of her strength into it. The rock drew blood and his silence. ¡°You could¡¯ve died knowing more than you do now! But you didn¡¯t have the patience, did you?¡± She gripped her chest and stopped speaking.


    Plum worried for her again, seeing plain in Locine¡¯s face that she was resisting the urge to cough.


    But her mother continued on: ¡°No, you didn¡¯t have the patience to suffer even a word from me. It would have saved your life¡­ But I will leave you with this.¡± She stuck the sword¡¯s tip into the grass and leaned on it, pointing her right hand at the creature in disrespect. ¡°I got those seeds from a crater. Those are blood-rapers, known for wrapping around and squeezing every last drop of the stuff out of prey until your their nothing but a husk. So¡­ anything more you have to say, Boon, brigand of the Sword Swallower starship?¡±


    ¡°I am a soldier!¡± he said, writhing under the plant. ¡°And a lesser life-form like you¡­!¡± He grunted, straining his body free itself. ¡°You¡­!¡±


    Plum wasn¡¯t scared he¡¯d break free. Her mother wouldn¡¯t bind in him something he could easily break out of, even if his strength was unbelievable. She guessed that nothing short of sharp blades would free him at that point.


    But then the vines tore. ¡°INSECT!¡±


    With one final yell of rage, the beast freed himself. Plum¡¯s feeling of victory fled, and it took herself a moment to realize why. The vines hadn¡¯t ¡°tore¡± like she first thought¡ªthey were cut. And to realize why they¡¯d been cut, she needed to remember that moon-men all had their gifts. Boon¡¯s gift was the claw-like knives that stuck out his body and hands, the ones that saved him from a slow and terrible death. This is bad, Plum thought to herself. But she clung to the hope her mother had another plan up her sleeve.


    10


    This is bad, Locine thought, watching the monster rise and stare at himself in utter disbelief. That attack¡­ my spell¡­ it was all I had¡­ She was too weak to make love, even when Cammo had been gentle. How could she expect herself to fight? For Plum. Not to win, but to buy time. Cammo is on his way.


    And with that, the veneer of strength fell, and the light that surrounded her with it. Locine coughed, dotting her white gown with blood as she collapsed onto her knees. Boon turned his malicious attention towards her and stomped closer, taunting her with the time he took, apparently no longer worried.


    ¡°Know this,¡± Boon began. His massive hand wrapped around her stomach as he raised the woman to his head. ¡°It is an honor to be killed by me or any of my kind. An honor you don¡¯t deserve. Now, give me that explanation as to why I¡¯m on this rock or I¡¯ll split you in half using just the length and girth of my cock. It will be slow, and I¡¯m guessing, the worst pain you¡¯ve experienced in the entirety of your pointless existence. Talk, and the dying will be quick.¡±


    The monster¡¯s hand almost closed around her entire waist, and she could feel the ungodly pressure squeeze her guts¡ªshe knew she was going to die. I was going to die anyways, her mind stated. And I¡¯ve done what I¡¯ve had to do. Plum¡¯s long gone by now¡­ I won¡¯t die a coward.


    She spit in his eye. He barely flinched, only wiping away the liquid with growing annoyance. ¡°Then we¡¯ll do it my way.¡±


    There was a terrible moment of silence as his yellow eyes glided over her, when the sound of tiny feet on live grass came into her ear. That was when she turned to see Plum emerge from the woods behind her. ¡°Let her go!¡± Plum said, a brave face on.


    Locine didn¡¯t want her to be brave. She wanted her to be a coward. She wanted Plum to leave her behind. But she didn¡¯t. Locine stopped being brave.


    ¡°She seems smart enough¡­¡± Boon muttered. ¡°She¡¯ll do.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± her mother asked, looking back at the moon-man, terrified.


    Boon flung the woman hard into a nearby tree, his face blank as if it was something he¡¯d done a hundred times before.


    She felt something snap in her back as she flattened against the trunk and fell to the grass! ¡°AHA! Guh¡­ Plum¡­ Plum!¡±


    Her daughter couldn¡¯t move; she could only stare at her as if what she was seeing wasn¡¯t real¡­


    ¡°Go! Go!¡± Locine coughed. It felt like something in her burst, and she couldn¡¯t move her back, any attempt resulting in fiery pain to spread all about her body.


    ¡°You,¡± Boon said, looking down at the Plum. She looked up at him and began to shake. Whether she was too scared to flee or too shocked, Locine hoped she would snap out of it soon. ¡°Don¡¯t run. I¡¯ll deal with you in a moment¡­¡± He had flung the woman hard but not far, making it to her in just a couple steps. ¡°What else can I do? Speak quickly.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ can¡­¡± Locine found it hard to breathe, and speak, and do anything that might guarantee Plum a chance; so she begged. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know¡­ Please¡­ Have mercy¡­ She¡¯s only a child¡­ Please, I submit! I submit!¡±


    ¡°Have you run out of bravery now?¡± Boon asked, holding the slightest grin. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s because the little one appeared.¡± He looked over and saw along with Locine that Plum had wet herself, a long, dark stain appearing on the front of her dress as piss snaked down her shivering legs. ¡°Heh heh heh!¡± He turned back to her mother. ¡°I am many things¡­¡± The claw-like things grew out of his palm as he bent down and raised her, stabbing the woman as she howled in pain. ¡°But merciful is not one of them.¡± The knives were long, some of them reaching six inches, and Locine could feel every one bring her closer and closer to death. ¡°You won¡¯t void your bowels, correct? You seem like such a sweet thing¡­¡±


    The last thing Locine saw was his jaw unhinge and hundreds of jagged teeth as her head was pushed inside.


    11


    And he bit her head off. Plum stopped breathing when she saw Locine¡¯s limbs fall limp to her sides, blood pouring out of the stump and onto her gown, painting her chest and stomach a black red.


    ¡°MAMAAAAAA!¡± she shrieked, bursting into tears and incoherent sobs. ¡°NOOOOO! MAMA!¡±


    Boon peeled off the gown and ate the rest in three, terrible, noisy bites. ¡°Hmm¡­ Sour¡­ Not very sweet¡­ Not savory either¡­ But not bad! Yes, I think I like whatever this is¡­ Little one! What do you call creatures like yourself? You taste good.¡± Red ran down his chest from the wide slit of his mouth, and all his teeth were stained. ¡°Well? Do you feel like answering my questions?¡±


    ¡°PAPA! PAPA! HELP!¡± Plum scrambled into the woods, tripped and screamed, and stared back terrified as she ran off shouting pleas. ¡°PAPA! PAPAAA!¡±


    ¡°Ten! Nine!¡±


    He¡¯s counting down!


    ¡°Eight! Seven! Six! Five!¡±


    ¡°HEEEELP! PLEASE!¡±


    ¡°Four! Three! Two!¡±


    His voice felt like it was right behind her and she whimpered as she ran.


    ¡°One!¡± Boon finished. ¡°Hope to whatever gods you pray to that you¡¯ll run faster than that, girl! Because I run much faster! Ready or not, here I come!¡±


    12


    Vincenzo had pulled the rest of himself out of the mud minutes ago and was laying on his back, taking in all the air he could take and breathing it all out seconds later, both eyes pointed to the sky.


    ¡°Oh!¡± he mumbled, looking up at the two moons, fear in his voice. ¡°What¡­? Huh¡­? What the¡­? Fuck¡­ Fucking shit¡­ Motherfucking piece of shit¡­ What the motherfucking shit¡­?¡±


    All he could do was spout profanity as he wondered just what the hell was going on. That was when the Father¡¯s warning came to mind: I¡¯m in the Fourth Place. It didn¡¯t look like heaven, hell, or purgatory¡­ And all that left was wherever he was, panting in the dark. One moon was big and grey, the other small and red. Two moons, just floating there as if there was nothing wrong with that.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± he asked, calmer that time. ¡°Marco¡­ Marco, are you watching me?¡± The night was silent. ¡°Where am I now, Marco? Where am I now?¡±


    ¡°PAPA!¡± someone yelled.


    He shot up, shutting his mouth.


    It wasn¡¯t the voice of someone in peace. It was the voice of someone in trouble, bad trouble¡­ It was a kid¡¯s voice. It was desperate, too. It was a desperate, harsh, sad, and terrified cry that echoed throughout the once quiet woods like sirens through a street.


    Despite the fact that whoever was screaming had done it in a completely different language, Vincenzo understood it. He understood it so well that he knew how to speak the entire language after one word¡­ Another layer of confusion, he complained, but not something he needed to worry about at the moment. The worry came from what they were saying:


    ¡°HEEEELP! HELP ME! PAPAAA!¡± she screamed, and he could now tell it was a her.


    He looked towards the sound and got up. It wasn¡¯t heaven. It wasn¡¯t hell. It wasn¡¯t purgatory. It was something else.


    13


    Boon loved the hunt.


    ¡°SAVE ME!¡± the girl cried, still bawling. She seemed to see well in the dark, better than most animals, but the tears clouded her vision to the point that she could barely see in front of her, and she could barely dodge the obstacles in front of her. ¡°PAPA!¡±


    Boon¡¯s long legs meant that the beast barely needed to jog to catch up to the child, only slowing to squeeze through the tightly knit shrubbery and trees, cutting them down with his ¡°gift¡± whenever they got too thick. A little smile rose from the corner of his thin lips. Even if his prey was a little one he could still feel dopamine spread throughout his mind, and he contemplated doing the same thing to her as he promised he would do to the mother¡­ It was that kind of night for him and he thought that he could use the break, especially after dying and all. He could find the answers as to why he still lived after the treat. He needed to level himself out.


    ¡°Small legs,¡± Boon teased, gaining on her without much effort. ¡°Not great for running¡­ You¡¯re calling for your father, correct? Heh heh heh! Yes, bring him along! I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll succeed where your mother failed! Heh heh heh!¡±


    She tripped on nothing, falling face first into the grass and biting her tongue. ¡°Owwie!¡± she yelped, sucking on the wound. Boon caught up and stopped, standing over her with what was now a toothy grin. She threw her hands up, aiming the palm towards him. ¡°Glath Houthes!¡±


    A square barrier of translucent, rippling, glowing blue energy appeared out of nothing, separating the two. Boon looked at it curiously. He wondered what manner of technology she was using for such a thing¡­ He¡¯d seen his fair share of energy barriers before, but he couldn¡¯t see a single emitter on the creature. Mutations? That would explain his own strange ability¡­ In any case, the floating wall didn¡¯t seem thick at all. Boon laughed. ¡°A little thing like this? You think this¡¯ll protect you? Heh heh heh heh heh!¡± He held the back of his fist over the shield and flicked it down¡ªbarely adding any of his strength¡ªand ended up shattering it! The girl put her hands over her eyes but still peeked through the gaps, looking more than distraught. The little glass-like shards faded into nothingness. ¡°You¡¯re a funny thing, I see. Thinking a little thing like that would protect you¡­¡± Another claw-knife wrapped around his right index finger, stopping an inch farther where his normal finger would¡¯ve normally ended. He knelt down, watching her body quiver. ¡°Why¡¯d you stop running? I was actually starting to feel the chase¡­ How about this?¡± He slid the sharp finger down her thigh starting from the hip, pushing the tip in about an inch. She screamed and clutched the bleeding wound, still calling out for a savior. ¡°Not yet?¡± Boon asked, but he wasn¡¯t even quite sure if she heard. The screaming was nice on his internal ears, though. He hadn¡¯t heard a screech like this in a long time. ¡°I¡¯m enjoying myself,¡± he told her. ¡°And I¡¯m not bored yet, so entertain me some more.¡± The knife on his hand retracted and he positioned his finger next to her face, holding it in the flicking position. ¡°How about this?¡± He flicked her in the cheek¡ªa simple flick, nothing special¡ªand her head bounced back like it¡¯d been a punch. ¡°This?¡± He flicked her eye, and predictably, her bloody hands went to it. ¡°This?¡± He flicked her stomach and she curled forward, clutching it. All she could do was wail, becoming hysterical.


    ¡°Sabe meh¡­¡± she wailed. ¡°Pleab¡­ sabe¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Boon said. He had gone too far, and now he doubted he could even get information out of her. ¡°That¡¯s that, I suppose.¡± He picked her up with his left hand. ¡°That meat under the hip is stained,¡± he muttered aloud. ¡°Here should be fine.¡± He peeled off a chunk of her shoulder and popped it in his mouth, producing even more delectable terror as the taste spread within his mouth. ¡°Wow! Splendid, just splendid¡­ Heh heh heh! I think I¡¯m going to enjoy my time on this planet.¡±


    When the girl realized what was about to happen, she tried to scream, but her voice was so hoarse that it came out broken and small, but she kept screaming anyways, flailing in his hand as he guided the little thing closer to his open maw¡­


    14


    Vincenzo launched his shin as hard as he could right up the thing¡¯s exposed balls, and knew that was the most perfect kick in the nuts he¡¯d ever done, every ounce of force concentrated solely on its weakest area.


    The furry thing wailed, one of anger and agony that was music to Vincenzo¡¯s ears. The beast dropped the girl and fell to its knees, squeezing its privates to quell the pain as it let out labored groans, tears dampening the fur under bulging yellow eyes.


    Vincenzo raised the rusty sword¡ªmore like a dagger in his hands, and found lying on the bloody grass¡ªand got ready to stab it in the beast¡¯s back, before realizing it was impossible. Claw-like knives grew out of its back and interlocked, forming a sharp armor that he couldn¡¯t find an opening to.


    ¡°Damn¡­¡± he muttered, and looked towards the girl. She wasn¡¯t human, but he could still tell she was just a little girl¡ªmaybe six, he guessed. But even then, she was small, only two feet and six inches from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. On that head was pink hair that didn¡¯t look dyed, braided and long to the point it reached her waist. Her skin wasn¡¯t white, or brown, or black, or somewhere in the middle of any of those, but purple; a light purple that matched lavender. Her ears were long, thin, and arched to a point behind her head. And her eyes were twice the size of his or any other humans, and both glossy reds that spread from one corner to the next. He could see no whites, no iris, and no pupils, just a solid ruby-shade throughout. Other than that, she was similar enough. Her nose was a button, her lips were normal, her hands and feet had five digits each, and proportionally, she was completely human-like¡ªwhich made the other aspects twelve times stranger in comparison.


    She was silent, and while her eyes were red all over, he could tell she was staring at him. ¡°Noooo¡­¡± she whispered, scared at the look of him. For once in his life, Vincenzo wasn¡¯t proud of his scary face, and he wasn¡¯t proud of the face he was making: it was one of burning rage. One look at her cut shoulder, the shut eye starting to swell and darken into a darker purple and blue, the bruises on her face, the deep cut along her thigh, and the urine and blood staining her dress filled him with the same emotion Marco¡¯s death had brought. No, it was even stronger, even more intense. He felt an unquenchable thirst for blood, and it showed. ¡°No¡­ No¡­¡± she kept on whispering.


    Vincenzo glanced at the monster for just a second and found it gasping for air. He¡¯s busy. I gotta get her out of here, he thought. He ran around it and grabbed her, using the break to place her on the grass about twenty feet away. He knelt down at her level. ¡°Hey, hey, hey,¡± he started. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be fine, okay? Come on, you just need to get up. Can you walk?¡±


    She didn¡¯t reply. Hell, he wasn¡¯t even sure if the girl was hearing him, even though he was literally speaking her language.


    She looked lost and sad and confused and in denial of it all¡ªand half crazy. He glanced at the beast again, glad his kick to the nuts managed to do so much damage. It was still gasping, still rubbing its nuts, still trying to soothe the pain. He turned back and grabbed the least injured parts of her cheeks and did the only thing that came to mind: something stupid and pointless. He pulled them apart and pushed them in, doing it so fast that it produced a plip-plop-plip-plop-plip-plop sound, and succeeded in confusing her. At least she was just puzzled now, he thought, and tried to give her a reassuring grin. ¡°Are you okay? Can you stand?¡±


    She didn¡¯t reply


    ¡°Come on,¡± he prodded, still keeping his voice low and a smile on. ¡°I need an answer.¡±


    She felt her leg and winced at the pain, her one eye wide and the other almost shut from the swelling of flesh. She nodded.


    ¡°Good, good, good,¡± Vincenzo said, smiling wide. That made things much simpler. ¡°Then you should leave. Now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked. From the way the small words left her mouth it was obvious she was still scared as shit, and mistrustful of him.


    He lifted her up from her armpits and placed her gently on her feet. ¡°Exactly what I said.¡± His grin faded as he checked behind him, and after the check he looked back at her with a grave face. ¡°Now! Before it¡¯s okay. I hit it hard, but not that hard. And when it¡¯s okay, it is not going to be happy. In fact, it¡¯s going to be pissed as hell. Merda, he¡¯s probably going to want to rip my head off¡­ And yours too if you stay. So go. Go!¡±


    The little girl that wasn¡¯t human looked at him with both surprise and confusion, but not fear or distrust. ¡°But¡­ why?¡±


    She understood, he saw. That meant he didn¡¯t need to hold himself back. ¡°Go!¡± he yelled, letting anger take hold. His face was grave and angry, then. ¡°NOW! I¡¯ll hold him off!¡±


    She flinched at his raised voice, and he thought it¡¯d be fear that returned¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t. What came to her expression was awe. ¡°I¡¯ll send help.¡± She backed away. ¡°I¡¯ll send you help, I swear.¡± With a turn she was off. ¡°Thank you!¡±


    Thank fuck¡­ he thought, relieved beyond belief. Now¡­ The beast was upright with focused yellow eyes and a red froth running out of its jaws, the foam slipping out and slipping back in as it breathed. Just as Vincenzo thought, it was pissed. Who¡¯s gonna save me now?


    ¡°I am Boon,¡± the beast calmly began. ¡°And you¡­ you¡­ I am going to eat out your heart and use your tongue to wipe my ass after I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ don¡¯t,¡± Vincenzo said. It loomed over him, hate in its eyes. ¡°Wow¡­ you¡¯re tall. What, what are you exactly?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll never know,¡± Boon said.


    A nervous chuckle escaped him. ¡°I can see that happening¡­ But I can also see my knee in your balls. You sure you want that again?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t have the chance.¡±


    15


    The alien¡ªthat¡¯s all it could be¡ªwas more menacing than even Igor, that emotionless bastard, and meaner too. That girl wasn¡¯t human, Vincenzo thought idly, almost forgetting the battle for his life. But she¡¯s not like this guy¡­ whatever he is. So, fuck it. If I gotta die again, I¡¯m more than fine with that. Just like his skirmish with Pasha, he got into position with the knife (sword), spacing his legs and crouching with the thing in hand. Boon didn¡¯t look impressed; he stood up straight, calm and collected, the look of rage and hate on his face turning passive. His furry arm sprung out faster than Vincenzo could react to, grabbing the rusty blade with knives of his own! Vincenzo pulled on it before letting it go and stepping back, going from armed to unarmed in less than three seconds. Boon only stood in place, staring at the human before crushing the rusted iron within his hands, and tossing away the shards. He started towards him again.


    Well, I guess this is it¡­ again¡­ Vincenzo thought, staying low and still as if he had a chance. Surviving wasn¡¯t an option. Whatever he was, the alien was too big and too strong to lose in a straight fight. And while he could run, he guessed the alien¡¯s long legs would catch up right away. I bought time, I guess. Like thirty seconds maybe, with my talking, but thirty seconds is a lot of time¡­ I guess.


    Boon came within three feet, yellow eyes showing hell, and grabbed Vincenzo¡¯s right shoulder with his left hand and punched through his chest with the right, knives making his huge fist push past the flesh all the easier! Vincenzo coughed out blood, gripping on his murderer¡¯s forearm, his black eyes wide. He was dying again.


    ¡°A coward''s attack usually comes from a coward.¡± He threw the human behind him, holding the soft red bit of muscle that looked to be a heart. He popped it in. ¡°Not good at all. Stringy and bitter. Not good one¡ª¡±


    Before the alien could repeat itself, a mud-stained knee smashed into his battered balls! Boon fell to his knees, this time looking over at the source with fear and confusion. It was the human, and he looked fine¡ªstained by his own blood¡­ but fine. Vincenzo didn¡¯t understand it much either, but the hole¡­ it just filled itself, and he was still alive. ¡°How¡¯d that feel, huh?¡± he said. ¡°I hope you really felt it that ti¡ª¡±


    Boon put all his force into a closed-fist backhand, cracking Vincenzo right in the jaw. He flew back, feeling and hearing the break of his bones, feeling and seeing the teeth that flew out, feeling and hearing new ones shoot out the gums and his jaw reform. And half a second later he was okay. The alien put all his force into that swing, and he was okay.


    ¡°This changes nothing,¡± Boon said, forcing himself back up. ¡°Whatever trick you¡¯ve used, it won¡¯t matter. I¡¯m still superio¡ª¡±


    Vincenzo let out a guttural scream and jumped at him, launching a fist of his own in what might¡¯ve been Boon¡¯s jaw. If there wasn¡¯t his body to worry about, what was there? Claw-knives greeted the next blow that would have been at his stomach and locked it there; it hurt like bitch¡­ but it was nothing compared to how he really died.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see you come back from this, freak!¡± Boon yelled, grabbing his forearm with sharp hands and ripping it apart like paper.


    Vincenzo staggered back, screaming in pain as he grabbed the stump, falling to one knee, when he saw it come back. He held it out and studied the process, breathing heavy with surprise on his mean face: first, the wound sealed itself and skin covered it, like an amputee after a few years of healing; second, it just grew, the stump extending until it reached his palm, where it branched out, giving him half-fingers before full ones; and last, his nails shot out. And the kicker? The whole process went down in about four seconds. The pain was gone and he had his arm back. It was the same thing that happened with his chest. Vincenzo felt the middle of the ¡°X¡± tattoo on his torso and felt a thump thump, thump thump. ¡°Looks like I got it back,¡± he said, a nervous smile on his bloody lips. ¡°You still feeling that kick I gave you?¡± He held up his arm, free of scars. It was literally as good as new. ¡°Because I¡¯m not still feeling this.¡±


    Whether it was the second kick or the remark or the fact he dared to live, Boon was livid. ¡°You believe you¡¯re funny, correct? We¡¯ll find out how funny you feel after I¡¯m done with you.¡±


    ¡°I know my way around a joke,¡± Vincenzo said. Now I bought a minute and a half¡­ And I¡¯m thinking I¡¯m going to buy a lot more. Help might come, after all. ¡°And next I¡¯m taking an eye.¡±


    16


    ¡°Plum?! Locine?!¡± Cammo screamed into the night. ¡°Anybody?!¡±


    Fear had gripped him tight and it showed in every call. The bad thoughts came, creeping into his heart whenever the echo of his own voice came back to taunt him. The forest was peaceful no longer. What if they¡¯re dead? And if they¡¯re dead, then it¡¯s your fault. You just had to go off alone, far, and do what? Think? You fool, you got them killed. You miserable waste of life. The only thing you¡¯ve done that you¡¯re proud of and you still manage to fail.


    ¡°Plum?! Locine?! Someone, please answer me?!¡± he called again. He pulled his mask up and stopped, looking around the dark of the night, and slid it back down. It clung tight to his skin, white circles surrounding his eyes as black surrounded them. And a dark green Glow surrounded him at a thickness almost four and a half inches.


    ¡°Papa?!¡± a small voice called from his left.


    He turned over to it, seeing his daughter limp out of the brush. ¡°Plum?¡±


    ¡°Papa?!¡± she said again, stopping when she saw him. Relief came to her black and bruised and bloody face along with fresh tears. ¡°Papa¡­!¡± She held out her arms and ran to him.


    The twenty feet between them shortened to nothing as he reached her in one powerful stride, gripping her tight before pulling her away and studying her injuries. ¡°Who did this to you?¡± He¡¯d destroy them. ¡°And where¡¯s Locine?¡±


    ¡°Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-she¡¯s¡ª¡± Plum tried to say, but her throat had closed up too much and she had begun to blubber instead.


    ¡°She¡¯s what, Plum? She¡¯s what?¡± Cammo said, giving her good shoulder a gentle squeeze.


    Plum couldn¡¯t look him in the eyes anymore, so she faced the ground, tears running down her nose to the tip and falling onto the cool grass below, shaking her head.


    The voices in his head were half true¡ªnot fully. Still, the news hit him hard; not that he showed it. His stony expression kept true as he nodded, knowing that her naked and sad on their bed was the last time they¡¯d ever know each other''s company. ¡°Plum,¡± he said, his eyes colder and his voice even more so, ¡°who did it? Tell me.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t answer. She was still hiccupping from the grief, barely able to breathe at all. He didn¡¯t rush her. Whatever she saw, whatever she felt, it was enough to break her spirit. You didn¡¯t rush someone with a wound on the soul. ¡°Pa-Pa-Papa,¡± she managed to say. ¡°You gotta save him. Please!¡±


    Cammo hadn¡¯t expected that. But then again, he had no idea what to expect. ¡°Save who, Plum? Someone saved you?¡±


    ¡°A¡­ a Guerriero,¡± she said.


    His face was carving in a rock, but he hadn¡¯t expected that¡ªnot in a million years. Maybe she was in shock? Perhaps she just imagined the sight of one coming to aid her.


    But if she was, she gave no sign. ¡°Please, he saved me! I-I-I-I-I¡¯d be dead too¡­ If it wasn¡¯t for him¡­ You have to save him! He¡¯ll die if you don¡¯t! He can¡¯t die, papa, please! Don¡¯t let him die!¡± She squeezed his red shirt with small hands and looked up at him with begging eyes. ¡°I promised him I¡¯d send help¡­¡±


    She saw what she saw. ¡°Okay,¡± said Cammo, still calm. ¡°How many were there?¡±


    ¡°I-It was just him¡­ and the other one¡­¡± She wiped away boogers and wiped them on her dress. ¡°Two¡­¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ From where you came from, right? A straight line?¡±


    She nodded again.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°Hide here. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    17


    Vincenzo dug his middle finger deep in Boon¡¯s left eye, clinging to the beast from behind and wrapping his free arm around what he wanted to be a neck. Boon screamed in absolute rage, grabbing the human by the ankle and pulling him off, letting the claw-knives explode out of his back and pierce Vincenzo¡¯s flesh as he dragged him off. Boon grabbed Vincenzo¡¯s ankle with his other hand and whipped him right into a tree, and whipped him into another, and another, and another¡ªuntil the knives he used to grip his leg cut it off, letting the man fly a couple of feet into safety. Using the moment of quiet, the beast brought his furry hands up to his destroyed eye and fell to one knee, panting hard. And to his dismay, the man got back up, seemingly unscathed. He was using the distance between them as a rest, sitting up and panting heavily himself, sweat beading down his naked body as he let the grass brush against his thighs.


    ¡°Suck my dick, asshole. Just suck my fucking dick¡­¡± he said, hand on his shaven head. ¡°That hurt like a motherfucker, you cunt. Jesus¡­¡± His limbs could grow back, broken bones could become unbroken, and skin that tore could untear¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean none of it was painless. In fact, it was one of the most painful experiences of his entire life. Vincenzo got up and almost fell again, leaning on a nearby tree for support. What the hell? he asked himself, blankly staring at his legs. They¡¯re fine, not a scratch on them¡­ He didn¡¯t even scar. Why can¡¯t I move? Exhaustion of some kind hit him hard. He could breathe fine, he didn¡¯t feel sick, and he didn¡¯t feel sore¡ªjust lightheaded. He felt lightheaded and tired and heavy. It was enough to knock him off his feet if he wasn¡¯t careful. Boon ain¡¯t looking too hot either¡­


    The moment the thought entered his brain the beast rose, his one eye glowing in the dark¡­ really glowing.


    Vincenzo¡¯s mind was more than jumbled at that point, so he nonchalantly asked: ¡°What¡¯s up with your eye? The good one, I mean?¡±


    A beam of red light shot out of it, surprising them both, and blew off Vincenzo¡¯s right arm! It was like he was burning again. All he could do was open his mouth and stare at the smoldering stump in a long silent scream, unable to take air in. And it wasn''t growing back. Whether it was the weird lightheadedness or the fact that it was a burn¡ªsomething that, deep down, he knew fucked with him¡ªit wouldn¡¯t grow back.


    Boon was done with conversation and shot the other arm off, almost like it was something he¡¯d done a hundred times prior. The next shot took off his legs at the knees, leaving him completely without limbs. Vincenzo¡¯s head collided with the dirt and he knew nothing more¡­


    18


    ¡°Finally,¡± Boon muttered, feeling lightheaded himself. He staggered over to the young man. ¡°Your tactics may have been cowardly, but you fought well. Consider dying by my doing an honor and carry that into the next life¡­¡± He raised his massive leg and got ready to smash in his chest. ¡°Goodbye, stranger¡­¡± Out of the soles of his foot grew knifes. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been a pleasure.¡±


    Something shot right into his ribs, sending him flying into another hard trunk before his foot could fall. The beast grabbed at chest and instantly knew that more of a few ribs were broken, before looking up at who was responsible. It was another native, glowing a different color than the other woman, wearing a strange mask. His arms looked gray and cracked, like stone. Boon, remembering the feeling of the man colliding with his ribs, knew that they were stone.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret that¡­¡± Boon said, his good eye glowing.


    The laser came fast but the man was faster, ducking under the light and closing the distance faster than what Boon thought was possible for such a creature. Then his fist came, hitting the beast right in the nose and smashing it. Boon tried to fire but a fist in his abs interrupted the process, forcing him to vomit. The man who hit stepped back in disgust, sneering at the thing in utter contempt.


    How could such a small¡ªand skinny, very skinny¡ªspecies put so much power in their blows? Boon didn¡¯t know¡­ he only knew that the stranger was trouble.


    ¡°What¡¯s that there?¡± the man asked, pointing at the half-digested gore and red vomit that stained the earth. ¡°Who is that?¡±


    Boon knew and opened his mouth to reply¡ªbut the man cut him off, punching a hole through the beast¡¯s mouth and right out the back of his head! Boon watched him with one good eye before shutting it forever.


    19


    Cammo pulled out his arm and wiped the blood off it with a rag, staring down at the moon-man with a frown. He spit on the back of its head and moved away, towards the Guerriero on the grass.


    The area was a mess. There was blood on the trees and the grass, on the stones and leaves. And there were limbs strewn about as well. Arms, legs, hands, feet¡­ Cammo glanced at the Guerriero and saw he was missing all of them. He¡¯s probably dead already, he thought, staring at his burned stumps. But then he noticed something strange: there were too many limbs. He counted them to make sure his eyes weren¡¯t playing tricks, and found out with some confusion that they weren¡¯t. There were four arms, with three right ones and one left. There were three legs, with two left and one right. And there were two hands not attached to arms and a foot not attached to a leg. This was made even stranger because most of the arms and legs still had their extremities attached. He didn¡¯t bother doing the math, knowing the numbers would never add up. He even saw broken teeth hiding in the dirt. Cammo leaned down by the man and opened his mouth, seeing a full set of teeth over pink gums. The other moon-man had sharp teeth. Did the Guerriero grow them back? Did he grow limbs and teeth only to lose them and grow them back again? And if that was the case¡­ was he still alive?


    Cammo poked at him. ¡°Do you live? Can you hear me?¡±


    The moon-man was as solid and stiff as a rock.


    Cammo pressed two fingers on the pale neck and felt a thump thump. ¡°Okay,¡± he said. ¡°I guess so¡­¡±


    But there was one thing he absolutely needed to check. He turned the moon-man over on his back and frowned at his nakedness before moving onto his face. It was a thuggish face, and he didn¡¯t like it. But it was also young. How young, Cammo had no clue. How old are you? he thought. Twenty? Twenty-five? As much as Cammo wanted to know, he didn¡¯t. His real interest was what laid under the moon-man¡¯s pale eyelids. Cammo removed his mask, folded it, and put it in his pocket. Did Plum really see what she thought she saw?


    He decided to find out. Placing a finger and thumb atop his right eye, he pulled the eyelids apart and saw what laid beneath: a black eye. The pupil and iris of which matched completely, melting together to form one black circle in the middle of a lake of white. Every being, no matter the shape, the color (even black as most animals had), or the size had a glint in their eyes. It was life and light. And, cementing his legitimacy of what he was, he had none. The glow of the moons above fell into him and went missing. His eyes were black as sin. An ill omen. Plum saw what she thought he saw. And Cammo couldn¡¯t kill him. Plum lived because of him.


    With a groan, Cammo flung the Guerriero over his shoulder and walked off back to Plum, casting one final glance on the Blood Moon and its brother, before moving on into the night¡­

 Departure

    1


    Cammo sat on a low stool with his right ankle on his knee, impatiently tapping his left foot while keeping a vigilant watch on the stranger sleeping soundly in front of him. He wore his mask just in case the man tried anything, even though ropes tied him tight to the trunk of a thin tree. The moon-man was very naked and the rag Cammo used to cover his genitals had not helped much, and neither did the awkward erection that popped up from time to time. I don¡¯t have time for this, he thought, looking up at the sweltering sun. Can¡¯t he just wake up already? I¡¯ve been waiting for hours¡­ There was a lot to be done and to be explained, and not a lot of time to do it. There was also the problem concerning the man¡¯s complete lack of limbs. Plum, the naive little girl, was absolutely adamant about keeping her savior alive, and as unrealistic as the request was, she forced his hand. All it took was her promise, a juvenile one that claimed that she¡¯d, Hate him forever! It was something that he would¡¯ve ignored earlier, but¡­ but there was something in her eyes that said she meant it. Whatever Plum had seen it changed her. No matter his prodding, she never revealed what. Cammo sighed and rubbed his eyes, wondering how much longer the stranger would keep him from moving on. With any luck he dies in his sleep, he thought. It didn¡¯t seem like he¡¯d be that lucky. The moon-man slept like a stone¡ªand a couple of times during his watch Cammo could swear that he stopped breathing, only for his chest to rise seconds after the thought like a prank, much to his chagrin¡ªbut wasn¡¯t as dead. Cammo watched his peaceful face and it stirred, growing worried. He straightened out.


    The stranger''s eyes began to flutter, making Cammo move his foot off his knee and plant it in the grass, leaning forward to meet him in the eyes. ¡°Finally,¡± he said, reaching over and slapping his white cheeks. ¡°Come on, wake up, fool. You¡¯ve been sleeping too long. Yeah, that¡¯s it. You¡¯re not dead yet, so wake up.¡±


    2


    Vincenzo looked up just as lightheaded as the night before, becoming very aware of the ropes, the sun, and the weird alien guy slapping his face. He was like the girl from the night before¡ªwhich he was almost sure was some weird dream, at least until this guy started slapping him¡ªbut taller and a man. The alien¡¯s hair was pink and long, reaching his shoulders, and he had it slicked back behind his curved and pointed ears. He was five feet and six inches, but he was all skin and bone. Proportionally, he reminded Vincenzo more of that Chinese basketball player than anything else. And unlike the girl from before, instead of a cute button nose, his was a triangle¡ªhalf a pyramid to be exact. The sides of it were straight as could be with no difference between the bridge and nostrils, stopping flat so two holes at the bottom could poke out from beneath. It looked both fake and real and weird as hell.  ¡°Where am I?¡± Vincenzo asked, his throat hoarse. He turned his head and saw a HUGE white tree with purple leaves towering high above them, along with crops surrounding it in a big circle. They weren¡¯t any kind of fruit he recognized. ¡°I said, where am I? And why am I tied up¡­?¡±


    ¡°Stop talking,¡± The alien said, slapping him harder.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Vincenzo yelled weakly. ¡°Who the hell are you?!¡±


    ¡°Just be quiet a second,¡± he said, ignoring him and standing up. ¡°Don¡¯t move¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have arms or legs,¡± he told him. The alien walked into the white tree through a doorway, leaving him. ¡°I can¡¯t move¡­ at¡­ all¡­¡±


    He came out a moment later with a basket full of the same fruits growing all around them. Many of the little stalks were empty, curiously enough. ¡°You feel lightheaded, right? Tired? It¡¯s just a symptom of low mana. Eat these and you¡¯ll be right.¡±


    ¡°Still don¡¯t have arms¡­¡±


    ¡°I have eyes, better ones than you,¡± he muttered, sitting back and the stool and placing the wicker basket on his side. ¡°I¡¯ll feed you.¡± He grabbed one. It was a small¡ªin comparison to Vincenzo¡ªperfectly round and smooth orange fruit that reminded him of, well, an orange. The only difference seemed to be that it had soft skin rather than a waxy rind. ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°Are your hands clean?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    The alien sighed and shoved the fruit in. He chewed eagerly and stopped, almost spitting it out as the taste spread throughout his mouth. The alien seemed to remember something. ¡°Oh yeah¡­ Different taste buds. Might be sour for you.¡±


    Vincenzo struggled to down the mushy thing with a puckered mouth and twitching eye, but was ultimately happy to have something in his stomach. ¡°It¡¯s like a goddamned lemon¡­ but worse¡­ Damn¡­¡± He blew a raspberry to get the rest of the taste out. ¡°Merda¡­ Just terrible.¡±


    The alien had him eat another one. ¡°You overexerted yourself. The other moon-man did the same. My daughter¡ª¡±


    Vincenzo spit it out. ¡°Is she okay?!¡± he asked, concerned. ¡°She was hurt bad and¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s fine,¡± said the alien. ¡°A bit of good medicine, some bandages, some ointment, and she¡¯ll be okay¡­ She¡¯s lying down now. No broken bones. She¡¯ll be up and walking in an hour.¡±


    ¡°An hour?! How?!¡± She looked worse than just an hour¡¯s rest.


    ¡°I already told you,¡± he said, annoyed. ¡°Medicine, bandages, and ointment. Now, back to what I was talking about¡­ Yes, the ¡®gift¡¯. My daughter couldn¡¯t see yours. Said she ran too quick before you guys started to battle. And, the way I see it, you would¡¯ve lost instantly if it had been a straight fight.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded and looked at the ground. He did lose instantly, but he didn¡¯t die when he should¡¯ve.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your ¡®gift¡¯. The Blood Moon bestowed two upon you, but I¡¯ll go after that in a minute¡­ The first one is guaranteed to be a physical mutation. The other moon-man had claws, which you no doubt have seen first-hand. So, what¡¯s yours? What can you do? How did you live as long as you did?¡±


    ¡°My ¡®gift¡¯?¡± Vincenzo asked, almost forgetting what he thought was unforgettable. ¡°Oh yeah! My ¡®gift¡¯! Yeah, I can, uh, grow back limbs and stuff like that. Pretty fast too¡­ It¡¯s like the axolotl, except my arms come back fully formed. Or like Deadpool, but they aren¡¯t baby arms or legs or any of that shit¡­¡±


    ¡°So, your arms are going to grow back?¡± he asked, rubbing his chin.


    ¡°I hope so¡­ It definitely seems tougher to do when it¡¯s burned,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but I¡¯m still hungry.¡±


    He nodded and fed him another. ¡°My name is Cammo Noowurl. My daughter¡¯s name is Plum Noowurl.¡±


    The fruit was small enough to swallow whole, so he did. ¡° ¡®Plum¡¯? You kidding?¡±


    ¡°You want a smack?¡± Cammo asked, bending his arm back. When Vincenzo flinched, he dropped it. ¡°It¡¯s a good name. A name her mother gave her. Now don¡¯t interrupt me again.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, okay¡­ But I just have to ask, what happened to that guy? Boon?¡±


    ¡°I killed him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Vincenzo asked, shocked. ¡°H-how though? You¡¯re so¡­¡±


    ¡°I killed him,¡± Cammo repeated, coldly. ¡°Easily. Now pay attention. I am going to explain some important things, and these are things you no doubt want to know. You¡¯re probably more confused than me and I¡¯m very confused, but I¡¯m also sure you have a worldview that would completely dismiss all I have to say if given the chance, so just listen. Listen and trust me. I¡¯m not a liar. Understand?¡±


    Vincenzo nodded. He was willing to believe anything after fighting an alien to the death to save another alien. He was in that kind of frame of mind.


    ¡°I am a wizard. My daughter is a wizard. And we are both emps,¡± Cammo explained. ¡°Don¡¯t think for a moment that I couldn¡¯t rip out your spine and beat you with it if a need arose. And¡­ we have to leave¡­¡±


    ¡°Leave?¡± The place looked like a paradise. The sun was a little low for his liking, but there was plenty of food, it was pretty enough, and this ¡°Cammo¡± guy seemed tough. Vincenzo could tell just by the look in his eyes that ¡°easily¡± wasn¡¯t an exaggeration, even if he was just bones.


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Cammo said. ¡°We¡¯re refugees. Well¡­ more akin to runaway convicts depending on how you view the situation¡­ And we decided this place is where we¡¯d run. It¡¯s out of the way, the ground is completely infertile to any outside crops (and anything planted by sentient hands), there are no natives, no predators, and my wife¡¯s spell circumvented the second reason. This lush garden, this home behind me: her doing. Her magic. But¡­ like most spells¡­ now that she¡¯s gone¡­¡± He paused for a moment. ¡°Soon, probably in a couple hours, this¡¯ll all be dust in the wind. And we need to leave. We can¡¯t plant crops and the game is too sparse to survive off of.¡±


    A dark green light enveloped him, calm as the surface of a lake with only the slightest of rippling, and he stood up. It was the strangest thing to Vincenzo because, no matter what angle he looked at him from, the light always seemed to come from just behind him, staining his silhouette a that deep green. The emp walked behind him and untied the rope, letting the naked, limbless man free.


    ¡°Do it,¡± Cammo ordered, standing just a foot away from him. ¡°I¡¯ve fed you ten of those things, and yes, they might need to digest a little¡­ But I need to see if you were telling the truth. Grow them back.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded, never breaking his gaze off the wizard. ¡°Just¡­ let me concentrate¡­¡±


    Imagining the same process that took place over twenty times that night, the one that saved his life over twenty times¡­ he did it. His left arm came out of the burn all at once, hurting a lot more than before, which used to be a painless process. He did it with his right leg, feeling the pain again. And after growing back the other limbs he felt even more weak and fell over, unable to get up.


    ¡°Fire¡­¡± he panted, moving his head up to Cammo slowly. ¡°Burns¡­ not good¡­¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Cammo grunted. ¡°If you didn¡¯t believe me before then just watch. Think of this next time you get any bad ideas.¡±


    Cracked stone replaced the lavender tone of his arm as he shot it right through the edge of the tree, sending splinters into the grass on the opposite side! He took his mask off and put it in his pocket. Vincenzo got the message loud and clear.


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± Cammo said. ¡°Me and her¡­ If you hadn¡¯t saved her life, I would¡¯ve ripped your head off without a second thought¡­ But that¡¯s not what happened. So, I¡¯m going to present you a deal. You can accompany us out and I¡¯ll tell you about the world, its rules, how you¡¯re here, and whatever you want, really; or you can go your own way. I won¡¯t judge, and I don¡¯t care what you choose. But make it in an hour.¡±


    He tipped the basket over towards Vincenzo¡¯s head, spilling the fruits onto the grass so the human could eat them without pushing his body up.


    ¡°Welcome to Overworld,¡± Cammo said, before turning back to the ivory tree.


    He left him laying naked under the hot sun with sour fruits and more questions than answers.


    3


    ¡°Plum?¡± Cammo called out, rising up the stairs. ¡°Are you awake?¡±


    As his head came above the second floor, he could see his daughter sitting in the center of the room, sewing together old cloth sheets and clothes, intently working at the task. Her bandages were clean and the ointment he administered seemed to have dried; she was healed, whether she knew it or not. She used the light shining on her lap from the window to guide her little hands as they stitched the different rags together.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, walking onto the round floor. The insides were empty of any item he thought useful for the journey, all kept in the three bags he packed. Only excesses, items too big to carry, furniture¡­ and old clothes and sheets stayed behind.


    ¡°They¡¯re old,¡± Plum said, keeping her ruby eyes on the sewing needle, ¡°but not dirty. A little stained, but not dirty¡­ And he¡¯s naked. The sun would murder him.¡±


    ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been doing this whole time?¡±


    ¡°What else was I supposed to be doing?¡± she said, pausing to glare with her eyes while her head still down. The pink hair she shared with her father had been taken out of its braid when he treated her so now it got in her way, obstructing her vision with thick walls on almost every side which she constantly brushed away, and she moved it again before continuing. ¡°I can¡¯t lay in bed all day.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how you heal. Rest,¡± he said, sitting down on his bed.


    ¡°And I healed, and I¡¯m rested,¡± she said. He guessed she did know. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Here, look¡­¡± She was wearing the same style of white gown her mother had worn and peeled the loose fabric off her shoulder, then she peeled off the bandage under that. It was a nasty scar, pink and a little misshapen, but healed. And it had been the worst of her injuries¡­ ¡°And here too.¡± The gown was long, reaching down to her shins, but she hiked it up and showed the other scar running down her thigh, which healed much cleaner. ¡°I¡¯m fine. In fact¡­¡± she said, getting up, ¡°I¡¯m going to go change right now.¡±


    She grabbed another pink dress, identical to all the others in her bag apart from the one destroyed the night before and went upstairs.


    Cammo rubbed his face, exhausted from the interaction. It wasn¡¯t new for her to snap at him and it wasn¡¯t new for him to do the same, but that was a problem. Especially when Locine, the one who managed to make peace, was gone. And now you have him, the moon-man to worry about, his mind reminded him. He didn¡¯t fully trust him; he¡¯d be FOOL to. A fissure in our relationship could be bad. And she feels so fond of him already. Just a whisper here or there and he could set her against me. It was a cynical thought, but a valid one. He¡¯d seen what an outside force could do to destroy a relationship, especially when there were already cracks. Just because he saved her doesn¡¯t mean he has her best interests in mind. Another bad thought, but still valid. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for men in his line of work to risk their lives saving women and children, and it wasn¡¯t uncommon for those same men to order those same women and children into their tents¡­ most of the time by force. I¡¯ll deal with him the same way I dealt with them: a heavy swing right through the neck. His hand crept over the handle to his wide sword hanging off his backpack, but brought it back empty. Almost every thought told him to kill the black-eyed stranger, and most of them came from the fact he had black eyes. Eyes of evil, he thought, antsy from just thinking about it. But he couldn¡¯t just do it, either. Plum¡¯s emotions on the matter were very clear. And besides¡­ he wouldn¡¯t have her right now if the moon-man hadn¡¯t put his life on the line. For that, he¡¯d give him the chance at life¡ªwhatever he¡¯d choose to do with it.


    Plum came back down and went back to stitching, not even looking her father in the eye. She wore her pink dress comfortably.


    ¡°He has arms and legs,¡± Cammo told her.


    She stopped. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s like a tree. Cut off a limb and another¡¯ll grow back,¡± said Cammo. ¡°Just make sure to add arm and leg holes for him.¡±


    She got up and ran to the window and groaned. It was too high for her. ¡°Damn it¡­¡± she muttered, frustrated. She grabbed the stool near the bed and ran it over to the window, using it to peer outside where the man would¡¯ve been. ¡°He¡¯s not there!¡±


    Cammo got up and joined her by the window. The basket and fruits were gone too. ¡°I said he could come if he wanted. If he wanted. He might not do it. Might decide he¡¯s better off alone and leave¡­¡±


    ¡°Why would he do that?¡± she asked sadly. But some thought came to her mind and she looked at her father with suspicion. ¡°What did you say to him?¡±


    Threats, mostly, he answered internally. ¡°Nothing,¡± he answered externally. ¡°Some men want to be alone. Besides, he¡¯s not gone yet.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, urgent.


    ¡°I gave him an hour to decide. He might come back, he might not¡­ But the decision is his¡­¡± Cammo said, turning from the window and heading back to bed. He took off his boots as Plum stepped off the stool and laid down. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a nap.¡±


    ¡°How can you nap?!¡± Plum asked, coming close to nag. ¡°I thought you said we were busy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but what we need to do will be done later,¡± he growled. ¡°We¡¯ve been up too long.¡± He extended his hand for her to nap with him. ¡°Sleep, even for a moment, would be good for us.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t,¡± she said, turning away. ¡°I need to finish his clothes¡­ I have to cut holes in the arms and legs now. And even then, they aren¡¯t done.¡±


    ¡°He might not even come back,¡± Cammo said.


    She paused, as if what he pointed out had hurt her in some way. It was not what he intended. ¡°Just go to sleep,¡± she mumbled, sitting down, her back towards him.


    He looked at her a moment before turning over and facing the wall, and after listening to small hands grip and rip fabric for a minute, he shut his eyes.


    4


    ¡°I¡¯m sweating my ass off,¡± Vincenzo stated to no one, wiping his brow.


    The forest only replied with the murmur of insects and the rustling of leaves, indifferent to him. He wasn¡¯t comfortable among nature; he was a city-boy through and through, and his one memory of the woods was not a positive one. The sun didn¡¯t agree with his complexion and his shaven head didn¡¯t help, the little twigs and rocks that littered the forest floor constantly stabbed at his feet as he went, and the heat was almost unbearable. But it wasn¡¯t all bad. The place was alien enough that he was entertained just by studying the different little creatures and plants all around, pausing every so often to get a closer look at the things that really piqued his interest: weird flowers, green rat things with furry tails that scurried away whenever he came close, and colorful bugs that shined every color of the rainbow.


    Overworld, he thought. Emphasis on ¡°world¡±. It was freaky thinking that he was on another planet, but not surprising. Well, it was at first, but after getting his ass kicked by an alien and being saved by another alien because he saved that alien¡¯s daughter, it was an easier pill to swallow.


    Vincenzo fished around the small basket he was holding under his arm and popped another fruit in his mouth, swallowing it whole to avoid the sour acids just beneath its orange skin. It¡¯s mushy enough for that, he thought. It¡¯ll be digested fine¡­ maybe¡­ The thought of shitting hail naked in the woods wasn¡¯t a pleasant one, but he¡¯d rather deal with that than the taste. The feeling of weakness had left him by the twentieth fruit, and he felt fine. He could feel a whole lot better with clothes on. Being as naked as he was, even alone, was unnerving. He felt vulnerable, open to everyone in a way he didn¡¯t like. He placed the basket over his groin as he walked and found what he was looking for: a place to sit down with himself. It was kind of low and covered in shade, a stump sat in the middle next to an overturned log, some small insects lit up the darkest places in their fancy colors, and a little stream ran just behind it. The sound of trickling water was calming. And above all, the little clearing felt private. He set the basket on the grass and sat on the stump, feeling the breeze run over his sweaty body, cooling him, and let out a long sigh.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°What do I do?¡± he asked himself, resting his chin on his knuckles as he bent forwards. It wasn¡¯t just geared to that weird dude''s offer¡ªit was geared to everything. His life, his future, and what he¡¯d do with both. And they stemmed from the sole reason that¡­ that¡­


    Come on, his mind muttered, goading him into a confession. You know why. It¡¯s the same reason you ignored the plane tickets, the same reason you didn¡¯t take the Father¡¯s advice¡­


    It was true. The only reason he lived his life as he did before¡ªwhether he admitted it or not¡ªwas because he was hoping he¡¯d die. What better way to die young than living as a mafioso? Especially when that same family was in the middle of war with another; that put his face in the line of fire more times than he cared to remember. So why did he survive? Because he was good at it. It¡¯s why, when safety was just a flight away, he used the excuse to go out doing something of worth¡ªMarco¡¯s approval be damned.


    But you aren¡¯t Italy anymore. And you didn¡¯t die. In fact, I¡¯m not even sure if you can at this point¡­


    That was the problem. He was alive. He should¡¯ve died, but he didn¡¯t. Ironically enough, the suicidal gangster ended up immortal. So, the question came up again: What do I do?


    His face darkened because he didn¡¯t have a clue. Do you really have to think about it that hard? his mind asked. You already have a choice. The guy gave you one. And don¡¯t you wanna know how you got here? He said he¡¯d tell you, didn¡¯t he?


    He did want to know¡­ But something else pushed him the extra step; the emotion he felt when he came between that asshole and the little girl. He never felt anything like that until that exact moment, but it felt right. He didn¡¯t know what to call it. It wasn¡¯t adrenaline, although it was definitely pumping. It wasn¡¯t thrilling, even if his heart was beating faster than it ever had. Hell, the experience as a whole wasn¡¯t positive, as it hurt like hell. But he¡¯d do it again, no question. He¡¯d do it a hundred times over.


    Plus, he wanted to see that she was okay himself.


    He got up, grabbed the basket and popped another one in his mouth, and started to walk back.


    5


    Vincenzo made it back to the absolutely massive tree that Cammo had disappeared inside, but didn¡¯t enter. It was still someone''s house, after all. Instead, he placed the basket in front of his privates and looked up at the circular window before clearing his throat.


    ¡°Anybody up there?!¡± he yelled, cupping his mouth with his right hand. ¡°I decided to come!¡± He brought his hand back to the basket and waited for a reply. ¡°Hello?!¡±


    The top half of a child''s head¡ªthe same one from last night, he recognized¡ªgreeted him from the window. ¡°Hi!¡± she said, waving her hand down at him. ¡°I¡¯ll wake my papa. One second¡­ Oh! Wait there!¡±


    He waited, eyes on the freshly dug grave near the base of the tree, and a second later the top half of her head came back up.


    ¡°Here!¡± she said, throwing down a jumble of cloth with her little arms. ¡°Some clothes! I¡¯m gonna wake him now!¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± he replied, making sure she left the window before changing. ¡°Thanks!¡±


    He grabbed the pile quickly and pulled whatever fit over his body, becoming clothed for the first time since crawling out of the mud. They were simple but they worked. Mismatched, mostly brown and stained cloth were stitched together in a sleeveless half-shirt and pants that only reached down to his shins. They were breathy too, letting the breeze in but the sun''s rays out; they¡¯d do for now.


    He grabbed another fruit and ate before sitting down and pushing it aside, feeling the thing fill him up completely.


    Cammo opened the door. ¡°In,¡± he said, going back inside and leaving it open. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Vincenzo rose and followed him, ducking under the doorway as he entered due to his height, worrying that he¡¯d have to hunch over the entire time. He was happy to find out that the ceilings were pretty tall.


    ¡°What was that grave outside?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°My wife,¡± Cammo said. ¡°She met the moon-man before you did. I buried her last night.¡± He went up the stairs. Like everything else, they were carved out of the white wood.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Vincenzo said, following him up. ¡°I only heard your daughter when I crawled out the mud.¡±


    ¡°Mhmm,¡± Cammo grunted. ¡°We¡¯re going to the top floor.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    They reached the third, the one with the tallest ceiling and the most light. Almost fifty bowling-ball-sized holes dotted the top, letting the sun¡¯s rays bounce off the white walls and onto the ivory table the little girl sat at. It was heavenly, or something close to it. The golden sun and the white wood looked perfect together, and so peaceful. It was a room for smiles and lazy afternoons.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± Cammo said, pulling out his own seat and taking it. ¡°Before we set out, it¡¯d be good to make sure we introduce ourselves. We¡¯re going to be sharing a long hike.¡±


    ¡°Good idea,¡± Vincenzo said, pulling out his own seat. It was small, but he could manage it. The lack of armrests made it easier to balance.


    There they were. Two ¡°emps¡± and a ¡°moon-man¡± sitting at the same table in the peaceful light of the afternoon sun. Vincenzo dominated the scene without trying, his height, muscles, and always pissed expression doing the work for him. Cammo kept his stony face on and sat in between Vincenzo and his daughter, eyes studying the stranger. Plum didn¡¯t seem to mind the fact that the stranger could probably rip her head off with his bare hands, and smiled at him from across the small table, eyes kind and curious.


    ¡°You,¡± Cammo said, nodding to the man with the ¡°X¡± on his chest. ¡°Go first. I¡¯ll go after.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded and sat up straight. ¡°My name is Vincenzo. And if you¡¯d like to know, Guerriero¡¯s my last. I¡¯m eighteen¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re eighteen!¡± the girl asked, her already big eyes becoming bigger. ¡°But you¡¯re so tall!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Cammo asked, looking at him with suspicion. ¡°Eighteen? You look older.¡±


    ¡°I get that a lot,¡± said Vincenzo, nodding. ¡°But it¡¯s true. In fact¡ªnot that I know how it works, with the coming back to life and all¡ªyesterday was my birthday. I¡¯m eighteen and one day, if it¡¯s specifics you want.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a birthday?¡± Plum questioned.


    Vincenzo remembered that he was speaking to ¡°emps¡± and not human beings. ¡°It¡¯s a day we celebrate the day we were born. Birth-day.¡±


    ¡°That seems kind of stupid,¡± the girl said simply. ¡°For us, it''s just another day.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t important right now,¡± Cammo interjected. ¡°How¡¯d you die?¡±


    ¡°Burned to death,¡± he said, leaning back. ¡°Not nice, I can say that for sure. Not nice at all¡­¡±


    ¡°That sounds horrible,¡± the girl commented. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°You get over it,¡± he lied, waving her off. ¡°I¡¯m alive, and I don¡¯t look burned either. So, that¡¯s pretty cool¡­¡± He sighed and stared off into nothing. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t nice at all.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Cammo. ¡°Plum, you¡¯re next. Introduce yourself.¡±


    Plum gave him a frustrated glare before smiling at the¡ªwell, not one anymore¡ªstranger. ¡°My name is Plum Noowurl. My papa¡¯s familial name was ¡®Noo¡¯, and my mama¡¯s¡­¡± she began, emotion disappearing from her face. ¡°Uh¡­ ¡®Wurl¡¯ was hers. She died.¡±


    ¡°I saw the grave,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°When I was coming up the stairs¡­ I¡¯m sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize for,¡± Plum muttered, life returning the moment she got off the sore subject. ¡°I¡¯m eleven.¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯re eleven?¡± Vincenzo chuckled in disbelief. When she glared at him, he looked over to Cammo. ¡°Really?¡±


    The emp nodded. ¡°From your size, I¡¯m guessing that your aging process is gradual. Emps grow in stages. We eat a lot, go comatose, grow during that time, and do that a couple times over our life cycle. She¡¯ll look her age around thirteen or twelve, continue without growing until sixteen where she¡¯ll grow again. It happens three more times and that¡¯s it. You most likely thought she was six, but she isn¡¯t. She¡¯s eleven.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a baby,¡± Plum said, a little angry at the man for assuming less. ¡°And I¡¯m not a little kid.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Plum,¡± Cammo interjected again. ¡°It¡¯s my turn now. My name is Cammo Noowurl. I¡¯m fifty-six years old.¡±


    Vincenzo thought he looked either in his early thirties or late twenties, but he wasn¡¯t about to argue. As Cammo said, they age differently. That was explanation enough.


    ¡°We¡¯re wizards, me and Plum. And our journey will be long. Three months, almost.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I get that,¡± Vincenzo said, leaning forwards again. ¡°But can I get an explanation on some things now? Now that we''re for sure going together?¡±


    ¡°Some things,¡± he said, glancing at Plum¡¯s excited shimmy forward in the corner of his red eye. She looked at him with confusion. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you things along the way, Vincenzo, but NOT all at once. Neither of us will. Understand, Plum?¡±


    His daughter sunk in her seat and looked at the table, her joy drained. ¡°Yes, papa,¡± she agreed, the words squeaking out like a deflated balloon. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    Cammo nodded and turned to the human, his face stone. ¡°It¡¯s insurance,¡± he explained. ¡°Certain knowledge is ours until we decide otherwise. But for now, I¡¯ll let you know two more things. One, the language we are speaking to each other with is Empish; you can understand any language once it is spoken to you. Consider it another gift from the Blood Moon. And two, the Blood Moon is what¡¯s responsible for you being here.¡±


    ¡°The red thing in the sky?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s alive,¡± Cammo stated. ¡°It brings men who died all over the black depths of space here. Men like you. Men like the beast I slayed. I thought that¡­ I thought that it¡¯d come in half a year, but it didn¡¯t. Now you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°But why? What¡¯s the point?¡±


    Cammo shrugged. ¡°Fucked if I know. But it does and we just have to deal with it. You¡¯re here because it brought you. Why that is, I have no clue. No one does.¡±


    Vincenzo didn¡¯t know what to think. ¡°Oh¡­ I guess I expected something grander¡­¡±


    Cammo shook his head again and got up. ¡°Not even my gods have something grand planned for me or anyone else; we just live in wake of their whims. Get ready. We leave now.¡±


    6


    The backpack Cammo had ordered him to carry was heavy, with around sixty pounds of shit he wasn¡¯t allowed to ask about. They were ordered outside where Cammo sat them down on the grass and quietly lit a torch, before turning back to his home and throwing it inside. Vincenzo was confused for only a moment, before the answer became clear. The crops that surrounded were already dying, turning black and shriveled as the orange fruits that grew out of them did the same. It was a burial by fire. Flames spread throughout the first floor and up the stairs, causing thick plumes of smoke to pour out of the windows and holes in the top, and the rest soon followed. Cammo ordered them along and they started away.


    But Plum stayed a moment, staring at the growing inferno with wet eyes and a frown, sniffling¡­


    Cammo called her: ¡°Plum, we¡¯re leaving. It¡¯s best to leave all of it.¡±


    She turned to him with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. ¡°All of it?¡±


    ¡°You can grieve once you sleep in one place more than a night, more than an afternoon,¡± Cammo said, his face as emotionless and rigid. ¡°But not now. Now, we move.¡±


    The white bark turned black as the fire climbed up from the trunk. Plum watched it and finally turned away, walking ahead of them into the shade of the woods.


    ¡°Are you sure that was a good idea?¡± Vincenzo asked Cammo when the girl was far enough ahead. ¡°Might be better if she went along without baggage.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s hanging around a burning tree going to do?¡± Cammo asked, angry at his brazenness. ¡°How I raise her is my business, mule. And now that she isn¡¯t around, let¡¯s get something straight. That demonstration with that tree earlier wasn¡¯t a threat; it was a promise to rip your heart out and shove it up your ass; a promise to burn you alive just like how you died. And if I even think you¡¯re planning to do anything against my wishes or my plans, I¡¯ll do just that. Now get moving.¡±


    Vincenzo felt a little pissed at the obvious contempt he was held in, but cooled himself down. He made his choice. ¡°Fine, then let¡¯s get moving¡­¡±


    7


    As they moved further away, the forest grew thicker to the point they were forced to hike through it in a single file line, squeezing through narrow spaces and tight clumps of nature. Progress was slowed as a result. Cammo seemed annoyed at that fact and pushed them on with the rigor Vincenzo imagined a drill instructor used, but just quieter. It didn¡¯t take long for him to realize that he didn¡¯t like the purple hardass, either. Maybe it¡¯s the way we started, he thought, pulling his stuck bag out between a pair of trees splitting from the stump. It had been a bad way to spark a long adventure, leaving a funeral pyre with barely a word¡­ Plum hadn¡¯t said anything since then, staring at the ground even after knocking her forehead on the fiftieth trunk, too deep in thought and grief to focus on anything at all. The sky began to darken as they went, leading Cammo to stop them when they reached a sizable clearing.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Vincenzo sighed, letting his rucksack fall to the grass as he massaged his shoulders. ¡°It was starting to drag on me a bit.¡±


    The other two set theirs down as Vincenzo sat on the grass. Cammo grabbed some more of the orange fruits out of her bag and tossed a couple into the pale one¡¯s lap, producing a grunt and a glare, before handing them to his daughter. ¡°Consider this your first lesson on our journey,¡± Cammo said, grabbing a knife as well. ¡°This is an orage.¡± He peeled off its skin. ¡°The only fruit we managed to grow¡­ The skin¡¯s a little sweet for my liking.¡±


    He held the over Plum¡¯s open mouth and dropped it without a glance, it fell on her face with a comedic plop before she ended up hoovering it in without the help of hands. An impressive feat, Vincenzo thought, and even more impressive that the emps could eat them without scrunched up faces and pursed lips. They ate in silence as darkness covered the sky, the torturously high temperatures mellowed into a comfortable warm. The light breeze that glided through the dense forestry even seemed to make it chilly. And through the gaps of the tightly knit web of leaves that protected them from the sun was the arrival of the two moons: one large and grey, the other red and small.


    I¡¯m here because of that, he thought, staring at the thing with a serious expression. Some part of him hoped that the ¡°grand¡± reason he was there would steer him where he needed to be, where he could do whatever something wanted of him with reckless abandon. He didn¡¯t want to have to think for himself, he realized. He just wanted to crash into something. So you can die? Is that why you want to know so bad? He shut his brain off and looked down, shoving an orage into his mouth and swallowing it whole.


    Cammo finished his meal and grabbed two sleeping bags out of Vincenzo¡¯s rucksack. ¡°If you try to kill us in our sleep, well¡­ just remember what I told you earlier,¡± he said, before turning to his daughter. ¡°Get in the bag.¡±


    He kept the smaller of the two open. Plum frowned at him as she held down her left foot with her right and removed her boot, before repeating the process with the other. Cammo pulled the bag up just as Plum stepped forwards, encasing her in it, and pulled two small ropes that tightened the fur-lined leather over most of her face; the only things left were her two large eyes for sight and her button nose for oxygen. Vincenzo chuckled at the sight. She looked like a caterpillar. Cammo climbed inside his own sleeping bag and pulled Plum in too, looking like a matryoshka doll. And just before drifting off, he pulled a black leather mask over his head and wrapped his arms around the small girl in what seemed like a defensive manner. Vincenzo raised an eyebrow when his skin turned cracked and grey like stone, but didn¡¯t question it further.


    Cammo fell asleep. He sat against the tree bark and lowered his head, holding his daughter with the stillness of a statue.


    ¡°Woah,¡± Vincenzo whispered, watching them curiously. Plum struggled to break free, but the rigidness of her father¡¯s limbs put a stop to it. She sighed in surrender¡­


    ¡°Having trouble there?¡± he playfully asked.


    She squinted in disapproval. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said, her voice muffled. ¡°I am.¡±


    He replied with a low chuckle and laid on his side, using his elbow to support his body as he arched his leg casually, getting comfortable.


    ¡°So¡­¡± she said, accepting the fact she couldn¡¯t get free, ¡°why¡¯d you die?¡±


    ¡°Burned,¡± Vincenzo said, yawning. The more he said it the less real it became.


    ¡°No, I mean¡­ why? What happened that led to that? Does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± In that small moment of silence after he replied he saw bullets rip through Aldo, a knife gut Pasha, Igor¡¯s throat slit, and heard his bullet hit Geno¡¯s tank and explode into a ball of fire. ¡°No reason.¡±


    ¡°Really? So, it was an accident?¡± she asked innocently.


    He could see a ball of fire fly across the room through the flamethrower¡¯s nozzle and cling to his body, and he thought he knew what pain was waiting for the sinners of hell. ¡°Yep,¡± he lied, barely registering the thought. ¡°My house caught on fire when I was inside. Left the oven on¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry that happened,¡± Plum said sympathetically. ¡°I only got burned once and that was just a candle¡­ And I set my head on fire once¡­ but that didn¡¯t hurt me¡ªonly my hair. I can¡¯t imagine that all over.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°You were quiet.¡±


    She did the best to nod despite her tight circumstance. ¡°I didn¡¯t feel like talking¡­ I still don¡¯t, but¡­ but I need to say something. I didn¡¯t get the chance to before. Well, I did, but I didn¡¯t feel like it¡­ I do now. But¡­ give me a second¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said, watching her squirm even more. Cammo, the statue, didn¡¯t even stir. ¡°He¡¯s a fast sleeper, huh. Heavy too¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Plum asked, still struggling to bring her arms up.


    ¡°He¡¯s not even waking up. He¡¯s just sitting there. You¡¯re moving around like crazy, and he hasn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just like that¡­¡± Plum said. She finally pulled her arms up and loosened the hole, peeking through, letting the rest of her face breathe as she managed a triumphant grin. ¡°I did it!¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± Vincenzo said, not nearly as impressed as she would¡¯ve liked. ¡°Now, what is it you wanted to say?¡±


    She pouted a moment before giving him a warm smile, and said something genuine: ¡°Thank you. You saved my life.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me,¡± he said reflexively.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    He opened his mouth to reply, but ended up closing it. The only reason he had to deny her was his past and nothing else. ¡°Just don¡¯t. It was a fluke.¡±


    She shook her head, and he could tell she was staring straight at him despite the fact her eyes were just one color. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a fluke,¡± she said, stubborn. ¡°You saved me.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Vincenzo said, ¡°but¡­¡±


    ¡°But what? I was going to die, but you saved me¡­¡± She frowned at him, but not out of anger or annoyance. It was a sad frown. ¡°Can, can I tell you something?¡±


    He nodded, feeling the night breeze come over him and almost force a shiver.


    ¡°When I was on the ground¡­ and he was hitting me¡­ I really thought I¡¯d die¡­ I didn¡¯t like that feeling,¡± she explained, tears almost leaking out as she continued. ¡°And my¡­ my¡­¡±


    She stopped and swallowed her breath, keeping the tears at bay as she shook her head, and didn¡¯t continue. And, despite how violently he lived, Vincenzo¡¯s heart was too soft not to ask: ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine,¡± she said, sniffing in such a way that made it obvious she wasn¡¯t. ¡°I just¡­ I was scared.¡±


    She saw her mom die, Vincenzo realized. That¡¯d fuck anyone up. She was young too, and he doubted her mother¡¯s passing was peaceful. I should¡¯ve ripped that asshole¡¯s cock off. I could¡¯ve pulled that off. But in reality, he should¡¯ve just come to her sooner.


    Plum sobbed, quiet as a mouse, ¡°I-I was¡­ w-worthless¡­¡±


    Vincenzo sat up and scooted closer, worry and concern clear on a face that most considered mean, and grabbed her hand. ¡°You¡¯re not worthless. There wasn¡¯t anything you could do. I wasn¡¯t able to do anything, either.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there!¡± she protested, her voice still low. ¡°You couldn¡¯t do anything. But I¡­ I just stood there and¡­ and¡­ I peed myself. Like a little kid.¡±


    Miraculously, the girl still refused to let the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes stroll down her cheeks¡ªbut it was a losing battle. Vincenzo could see that she was a second away from a complete breakdown, and whatever he was saying wasn¡¯t working¡­ His sympathy was useless. So why not empathy? ¡°I lied to you,¡± he confessed. ¡°I didn¡¯t die in an accident.¡±


    She sniffled and looked at him with curiosity and just a tad of betrayal, and it stung him a bit. Nevertheless, he continued:


    ¡°My dad¡­¡± he said, pausing from the strange way the words felt in his mouth. ¡°My dad died, and all I could do was listen¡­ He died for me. And all I could do was¡­ was stand around, listening to him over the phone like a¡­ a¡­¡± He stopped, a strange mix of sadness and frustration coming over him as he tried to explain; but the words wouldn¡¯t come. He moved on. ¡°And it was my fault. Tell me, Plum. Would that¡­ animal have acted any differently if you weren¡¯t there?¡±


    Something was blocking her throat, blocking the air, so all she did was squeeze his hand and shake her head. And when she closed her eyes, amazingly, she could breathe again. ¡°Why did you die?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­¡± he answered, realizing why, ¡°I never learn.¡±


    Even though his answer was short and simple, she didn¡¯t pry and only nodded. She opened her big eyes and looked into his with an involuntary frown and wiped away her tears, still sniffling.


    He knew it was time to change the subject, to focus on something that wasn¡¯t so damn morbid; if not for her, then for both of them. ¡°Think happy thoughts, Plum,¡± he said, managing a smile and rubbing her small and warm hand with his thumb. ¡°You said you wanted to leave, right? Have you lived here long?¡±


    ¡°All my life,¡± she said. ¡°To be honest, you¡¯re the first person, besides my mama and papa, that I ever met¡­ I never left this segment¡ª¡± She cut herself off and her eyes got wide before she relaxed herself, a little embarrassed that she even jumped. ¡°Do you want me to explain? We don¡¯t have to tell him I did¡­ I¡¯ll keep it a secret¡­¡±


    Vincenzo glanced at the mask on Cammo¡¯s calm face, remembering the colorful threat the emp had given him. ¡°I don¡¯t need to know for now¡­ But you¡¯ve been here a long time, right?¡±


    She nodded again and added, ¡°Eleven years.¡±


    ¡°And do you know anything about the outside world?¡± he asked, returning his hand back to his lap.


    She watched it go with a little sadness but got back to the subject. ¡°I was told stories¡­ and mama would teach me history. I know a bit about it.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he said, smiling.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem old to me, right now,¡± Plum said, smiling back. She started to blush. ¡°You seem as young as you said.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Vincenzo. Whether it was a compliment or not, he didn¡¯t know, but he took it as one. ¡°Is there any place you wanna go? Anything you want to see?¡±


    She thought about it for a moment¡­ and smiled when the answer came: ¡°The ocean.¡±


    ¡°The ocean?¡± he asked.


    Her nod seemed just as bright as her face had become. ¡°Yeah! The ocean¡­ Rolling waves¡­ Salty water¡­ The sun gleaming on an endless sea¡­¡± She blushed, embarrassed. ¡°My mama described it to me a lot. I¡¯ve always liked sea stories¡­¡± she explained. ¡°But never the exciting bits where a sea monster jumps out, or a big storm comes along, or a whirlpool tries to eat up the hero¡¯s ship. I liked the quiet parts where they¡¯re just sailing across the water without a care in the world. But most of all, I want to look out far, without a tree, or a hill, or a rock, or anything to block my way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see it,¡± Vincenzo promised, leaning closer. ¡°Once you¡¯re out, you¡¯ll see the ocean and it¡¯ll be everything you hoped it¡¯d be. So, chin up, alright? We just have to get on smooth. I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll be easy enough.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll be there too?¡± she asked, hope lighting up her big red eyes. \


    That was unexpected, he thought, searching for an answer. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d do, but that wouldn¡¯t cheer her up. ¡°Yeah,¡± he lied. ¡°I¡¯ll be there too¡­ Now go to sleep. It might end up being a long day tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not tired,¡± said Plum, seeming much better than before. ¡°Not a bit!¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Vincenzo relented. He realized that he liked the little brat. But then again, he had a soft spot for them. ¡°But you still need to sleep.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping,¡± she said stubbornly.


    There was something in her voice that told him it was for a reason. Nightmares? he thought gravely. Me and her have that in common.


    She asked, ¡°Where are you from?¡±


    Vincenzo ran a hand down his face and figured out that he was the tired one. Still, he answered, ¡°Italy. It¡¯s on Earth, not that you¡¯d know where it is¡­¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go to sleep¡­¡±


    Vincenzo spotted an ounce of worry creeping up in the back of her mind, and knew for sure that it was more than a childish wish to stay up late. Definitely nightmares. I guess I¡¯m not sleeping either, he thought. ¡°What do you want to know about first? We don¡¯t have magic or anything like that, so it might seem boring.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± she stated, wonder in her ruby eyes. ¡°Tell me everything.¡±

 Dead Thing Walking

    1


    The morning sun squeezed between the trees, burning his pale skin; the campfire nearby didn''t help him much temperature-wise either. That discomfort didn¡¯t convince him to open his eyes, and for a while he was content to lay there listening to the sounds of the forest waking up around him, at least until the smell of cooked meat came along.


    Cammo knelt beside the fire holding up the leg of some deer-like thing with a stick, the rest of the animal''s corpse lying about five feet behind him. Placing his left hand on the stick and his right on its ankle, he took a bite, removing a surprisingly large chunk, bloody and stringy, then chewed it, and swallowed it. Plum sat beside him, eating with a thick wooden fork off a small metal pan with slices of orage surrounding the meat inside.


    The deer-like thing''s head was demolished, its neck and skull were split completely down the middle, spilling its tongue and brain matter onto the ground. Vincenzo rose up, eyes glued to its large size that matched his own from its head to its tail.


    ¡°Good morning!¡± Plum said, shoving a greasy morsel between her chubby cheeks. ¡°You humgy?¡± Her mouth was still full.


    ¡°Morning,¡± Vincenzo said, running a hand down his face. Cammo was silent, only acknowledging him with a glance. ¡°Could I have some of that?¡±


    Cammo looked at him in annoyance before motioning over to the corpse. Vincenzo remembered every asshole on the street who¡¯d look at him like that. He also remembered throwing them into an alley, beating the shit out of them, and mugging them for all they had, and smiled at the memory. The deer-thing¡¯s split head threw him off that route, however. Cammo could split his head if he liked. Instead, he walked over to the carcass which had already been gutted partly.


    ¡°How¡¯g chu sleep?¡± Plum asked, still chewing.


    ¡°It was nice. No dreams,¡± Vincenzo replied, examining the animal. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°None,¡± she said, grinning.


    The ¡°emp¡± (it was still weird as hell thinking she wasn¡¯t human, even still) had fallen asleep a good half-hour into his story, and it looked like it was sound. He rolled on his back a minute after and stared up at the sky in contemplation, taking everything in. That was where he repeated solid (yet unbelievable) truths: Marco was dead; last night, he died and came back to life; he was on another planet called Overworld; he was immortal to an extent; and he was alone. The girl was fine company for a bit, but she wasn¡¯t exactly a confidant, being too young and too ¡°alien¡± to relate too for lack of a better world. And her father? That guy hated him. Vincenzo let that slide though, half because he¡¯d probably get killed if he didn¡¯t and the other half because of the girl. There was bad blood between them of some kind¡ªof what kind he wasn¡¯t sure¡ªbut he doubted that she wanted him dead. And, like Vincenzo, Cammo didn¡¯t want her dead either. He went to sleep after ten minutes with the same question he had on his mind earlier in the day: Why am I here? He didn¡¯t feel rested.


    Vincenzo yawned and looked at her with a tired smile. ¡°Good,¡± he said. At least she slept well, if anyone did. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡±


    He went back to the animal. Its fur was a shade of dark green with hooves of a similar color, and small antlers hung off the top of its split head. Its mouth was just like a deer''s, housing only molars. The last thing of note was the trunk that laid flaccid on the left side of its face, wrinkled and long, similar to an elephant. It was a nasty looking thing, but God, it smelled like heaven. Anything that wasn¡¯t a goddamned orage was probably going to taste like heaven.


    Cammo tossed him a sizable knife, and Vincenzo used it to hack off another leg and started to roast it over the flame.


    ¡°Vincenzo, what¡¯s your spell?¡± Plum asked, breaking the comfortable silence.


    Cammo coughed hard, almost choking on his half-eaten leg. The moment he got his bearings he knocked her upside the head and glowered at her. Vincenzo¡¯s immediate thought was that she would start to cry, but she only glowered right back.


    ¡°What?! It''s a good question!¡± Plum argued.


    ¡°I may have mentioned it once or twice, but he doesn''t even know what a spell is,¡± Cammo said. ¡°And I¡¯d like to keep it that way.¡±


    ¡°What are spells?¡± Vincenzo asked, taking a bite of some venison.


    ¡°Nothing for you to worry about,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°Spells are¡ª¡± Plum started.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Cammo shouted, shutting her up. ¡°Just because he saved you doesn''t mean he has good intentions. I don¡¯t want to hear another word from you.¡± He glared at Vincenzo. ¡°Or from you.¡±


    Plum opened her mouth to argue, but another glare from him stopped that. She crossed her arms and turned away from him, looking indignant.


    ¡°Let''s move,¡± Cammo said, getting up. ¡°It looks to be a hot day, and it''s best to make progress during the early hours.¡±


    2


    They did get moving, the chatter between the three at a minimum, as it¡¯d been the first day. Vincenzo ate as they hiked, wondering just what they meant by ¡°spell¡± and wondered about everything in general. After Cammo¡¯s explosion in the morning, he decided against asking. The answer to that question would not come as they walked through thickets and small clearings, and maybe not for a long time¡ªbut Vincenzo knew they¡¯d come eventually. They had too. If they didn¡¯t, Vincenzo Guerriero would be thoroughly fucked. So, he kept his head pointed at the ground and lugged his pack around in the heat, feeling the time slip by as the sun rose high right over them. Cammo¡¯s prediction was correct, with the temperatures getting as high as ninety degrees. High enough for Vincenzo to be in a constant state of discomfort; sweat ran down his pale skin and the sun beat down on him, the only respite being a small iron canteen which kept fresh water cold enough to actually enjoy. The others were in a much better position, walking as if nothing was wrong. Was that because they were emps? Whatever it was, Vincenzo felt his energy sap quick.


    After walking for hours, they finally took a break at a small stream, filling their canteens and washing the sweat off their faces. Plum¡¯s cheeks were a much darker purple, most likely from the physical excursion. Even if her body was more capable at handling extreme temperatures, the long march was a different story. Long pink hair, which reached down to her shoulders, clung to the sides of her cheeks. She pulled out a primitive brush, trying her best to straighten out any knots while sitting on a dead log bridging the stream. Cammo looked much better, probably due to his size and age; his cheeks stayed the same lavender color they had been when they left in the morning. He whittled a small log that fit in the palm of his hand, barely looking up at the other two resting. And Vincenzo looked the worst: the skin on his face and hands and his arms and his shins were as red as could be. Plum¡¯s handiwork only covered the essentials. He kept splashing himself with water to numb the pain. Whatever power let him grow back entire limbs struggled against the sun''s rays, leaving him burnt and angry.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Plum asked, stopping her arm mid brush.


    ¡°No,¡± Vincenzo answered, sounding just as pissed as he felt.


    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay¡­¡± she said, seeming defeated.


    Cammo got up and picked something out of the bag Vincenzo was forced to carry, pulling out a small vial of a dull red liquid, and motioned for the pale one to extend his hand. When he did, Cammo began to explain: ¡°This is some heart-fruit extract. It¡¯s rare and expensive, and we don¡¯t have a whole lot¡­ Rub it on your burn and it should be able to pick up the slack your ¡®gift¡¯ couldn¡¯t. It should reinforce it too, so you won¡¯t have to worry about burning again.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Vincenzo said, seeing a long sludge-like liquid drool onto his palm. ¡°I¡¯m guessing this is how she healed so fast?¡±


    Cammo sealed the vial with its cork and nodded. ¡°Normally you¡¯d ingest it for bad injuries; internal and external both. But something like this, topical should be fine. Heals scarring, too. But it doesn¡¯t seem like you need to worry about that.¡±


    ¡°And it tastes really bad,¡± Plum commented, pulling hard on her hair to get out a knot. ¡°It¡¯s bitter¡­ and¡ªOW!¡±


    Plum scowled as the brush got stuck on a knot, worsening her already bad mood. She pulled it up only for it to get caught on another knot of errant hair¡ªit didn''t take long for her to chuck the brush into the stream in frustration.


    Cammo only looked up for a moment before returning to his whittling, uninterested. Plum stared at him, waiting for him to comfort her, but he just kept whittling away. It was when she gave up that Vincenzo himself approached. That, Cammo noticed, and pulled out a meaty looking sword from his pack in response, eyeing him with the same stony expression he wore for most of the journey.


    ¡°I already know you could kill me at any time! I believe you. I got. I get it. Now let me deal with this,¡± Vincenzo said, sitting down next to her and letting his feet fall in the stream. Cammo let the metal slide back into the sheath hidden in his pack, but still kept a cautious eye on the young man. Vincenzo rolled his black eyes at him and turned back over to the small girl. ¡°Give me your hair, I''ll fix it for you.¡±


    She yanked it away, a small amount of fear in her eyes. Something about that look gave him more than enough anxiety; Cammo sat up slightly straighter. ¡°You''re not going to cut it!¡± she yelled.


    He felt relieved. ¡°No, of course not,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to braid it.¡±


    She looked even more surprised. ¡°Huh?¡± What would a big (bald) man know about braiding hair? That¡¯s what he guessed she was thinking. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡±


    She looked away and contemplated trusting him with it, before deciding it was okay and turning around


    ¡°What kind of braid?¡± she asked.


    ¡°French braid.¡±


    ¡°What''s that?¡±


    ¡°You''ll find out.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­ Where did you learn to do this?¡± she asked, crossing her legs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it and just relax¡­¡± he said.


    The next couple of minutes passed without much issue, Cammo having calmed down five minutes in. At the end, the French braid was complete and Plum was beaming; hair stopped sticking to the sides of her chubby cheeks and she shook her head to see the rope of pink dangle about from side to side.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± she said, smiling at him. ¡°I love it!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it¡­¡± he replied. ¡°Long hair can be annoying, especially in hot weather like this.¡±


    She nodded, twirling around to test the soundness of her braid. It didn¡¯t disappoint, staying both solid and flexible just like the skirt of her dress.


    ¡°I love it,¡± she repeated.


    Vincenzo nodded and walked off the log. ¡°To be honest, I never really thought I¡¯d braid hair again.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± she asked curiously, following behind him to her own.


    He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, I just never thought I would¡­ Hey, Cammo, you ready?¡±


    Dark green light erupted from Cammo¡¯s body, and he crushed the wooden figurine he¡¯d been working on effortlessly in his right hand. Vincenzo stepped back a little when he did, confused by his sudden aggression.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered calmly. ¡°Get ahead of me, Plum.¡±


    She did, not even registering the splinters of what he was working on.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± she said, facing Vincenzo. ¡°It''s a good luck thing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, okay¡­¡± he responded, following them. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±


    Then the three of them set off again, Plum¡¯s new hair being much more convenient for navigating the thick woodlands. There still wasn''t any real conversation between them, not that they could with Cammo growling at every vocalization either of them tried to make. And Vincenzo¡¯s pale skin seemed to stop burning, just like Cammo promised. They hiked until sunset and found an especially large gap in the trees and set up camp for the night.


    The birds'' songs were slowly replaced by the hum and chirps of invisible insects, just loud enough to carry themselves over the cool breeze and the rustling of the leaves. Vincenzo shifted uncomfortably under dark shade, feeling the weight of the day fall on him all at once. Cammo sat himself against a tree, sleeping silently. He didn¡¯t bother holding Plum like the last night again, figuring out loud that he¡¯d be quicker at killing the stranger than the stranger could kill them. And Plum played with her hair until breaking the silence.


    ¡°What is a human anyways?¡± she asked, softly as to not wake her interruptive father.


    Vincenzo sat up against the bark. ¡°A human is a human,¡± he answered quickly. ¡°Please don¡¯t ask dumb questions, I¡¯m not in the mood¡­¡± Walking around in the hot sun with sixty pounds on the back tended to do that.


    She shrank back a little while sitting on her heels, playing with the end of her neat braid to fill the silence. ¡°I was just curious¡­ I mean, you have white skin, you¡¯re super tall, and you have weird eyes,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s freaky.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°You''re one to talk,¡± Vincenzo said, sliding his hand down his face. He wondered if he¡¯d have to stay up talking to her again, to keep her from getting nightmares. If he did, he would, but he also wondered how useful he¡¯d be in the morning.


    ¡°Yeah, but your black eyes are scary!¡± said Plum, careful not to rouse Cammo from slumber. Quieter, she continued: ¡°They¡¯re freaky¡­¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡± Vincenzo said, pretending to look hurt.


    She looked as sorry as could be. ¡°No, I said the wrong thing there.¡± She twiddled the end of her braid between her thumbs. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡±


    Vincenzo felt some small joy from her apology, at knowing she cared. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, I¡¯m just joking around,¡± Vincenzo said, relieving her. ¡°It is a creepy color, I¡¯ll admit. Especially the way my pupil blends in with it. I¡¯ve looked it up, and apparently having a black eye color can¡¯t even happen.¡±


    ¡°Aren''t they black?¡±


    ¡°No, according to Google, it''s just a really dark brown,¡± Vincenzo explained. ¡°My eyes are just dark-brown.¡±


    ¡°What''s Google?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Nothing important.¡± Explaining what a car was to a little girl who never even saw a horse was difficult enough. He wasn¡¯t even going to attempt the internet.


    ¡°You''re wrong, though. They''re definitely black,¡± she said, squinting hard at him. ¡°Move your face closer into the light, and I¡¯ll be able to see.¡±


    He did and she moved closer as well, staring closely at his face, unafraid of his thuggish features. She sat back down looking content. ¡°They¡¯re definitely black!¡± She sounded sure. ¡°Us emps have great eyesight, and papa said we could even see more shades of colors than any other species.¡± She sat up straight, prideful in that fact. ¡°They are black.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess there''s no point in arguing with you¡­¡± Vincenzo conceded, laying on his back and staring back at the fading orange sky. While it made him some kind of genetic anomaly, he didn¡¯t think about it much and didn¡¯t care. So what if he had black eyes? ¡°Say, are there any predators in this forest?¡±


    ¡°No. Why do you ask?¡± she asked, twiddling the end of her braid.


    ¡°Your dad said this was no normal forest.¡± Half the reason he came along was because he thought he could help keep her safe. But keeping someone safe meant there was something to keep them safe from. Deer-things¡ªjers, Plum and Cammo called them¡ªand bugs and rat-things were no threat. If anything, they were the threat. So what was the issue? ¡°But from what I see so far, this place is a paradise (not to pale people maybe). Just makes me wonder what he meant¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve only ever been in the core. So, I don''t know, either.¡±


    ¡°Core? What do you mean by that?¡± Vincenzo asked, turning to face her.


    ¡°Mmnn.¡± She shrugged.


    Vincenzo looked over at the sleeping father, examining his features. Cammo was skinny, with strips of taut muscle. He wondered how a small guy like him managed to kill an absolute monster like Boon, with the only explanation being that weird energy that surrounded him at the time. He began to think he was missing something fundamental to the whole situation. He was missing a lot about his situation. He turned onto his side, shoving questions he had no way of answering out of his mind. After a while, the weariness of his body stopped feeling so tight, and he could just lay down and let every limb fall into sleep, the strength in each leaving him.


    ¡°This is nice,¡± he said, finally understanding why so many people loved nature. It was inconvenient as hell, but also calming at the same time. ¡°The breeze on my face, the warm air, the quiet¡­ Very peaceful¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s boring,¡± Plum muttered. ¡°I¡¯d much rather live in a city.¡± He had told her about them. ¡°This place can get dull.¡±


    ¡°You might not be wrong¡­ Maybe I will get bored after a bit¡­ but this is a nice change of pace.¡± His ¡°pace¡± used to be getting shot at, stabbed at, and lit on fire. ¡°Like I said: peaceful.¡±


    Fuck off, his mind thought. This kind of life isn¡¯t for you. You should be dead. You deserve to be dead. But he was alive. That wasn¡¯t supposed to happen, but it did. Now he was laying down in the middle of a magical forest with a magical girl and her magical father, feeling empty and calm. The hole in him grew a little deeper. It isn¡¯t fair that you¡¯re still alive.


    You don¡¯t think I know that? he retaliated, closing his eyes to shut it out. I¡¯ll deal with that after¡­ But I¡¯m going to relax for now, so shut the fuck up. For now, he¡¯d follow Cammo and Plum, learn what he could, and then go back to throwing himself into knives, or more accurately this time, swords. Vincenzo was still done, and nothing had changed, magic or not. He was alone.


    The voice in his head retreated into silence, leaving him amongst the pleasant forest noises with a content smile.


    ¡°Do you think I would have fit in in Italy?¡± Plum asked. ¡°I¡¯d like to think I would¡­¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Vincenzo answered honestly.


    ¡°And why not?¡± she asked, only play-angry.


    ¡°Plum, you¡¯re purple.¡± He opened one eye, as if to confirm that fact. She was still purple. ¡°People where I come from usually aren¡¯t. People can be very vain and very mean. That¡¯s a general fact of life.¡±


    Her mood deflated when she heard that, just like a kid when they were told that it wasn¡¯t really Santa who left them all those presents. ¡°That¡¯s a shame¡­ But honestly, after hearing all about Earth, I don¡¯t think it compares to Overworld,¡± she said, sitting up proud. ¡°You should get excited.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Because I know what¡¯s out there, but you don¡¯t. And from what I heard from you, it¡¯ll be like nothing you¡¯ve ever seen,¡± she stated with a secret smile. ¡°You should be excited, not relaxed.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t I be both?¡± he lied.


    She sensed that his reply wasn¡¯t the whole truth and pouted at his apathy. ¡°You should act more surprised.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it, and you seem to be taking this all pretty well¡­¡± she pointed out. ¡°And again, from what I heard from you, this kind of thing doesn¡¯t happen where you¡¯re from.¡±


    ¡°What kind of thing?¡±


    ¡°The Blood Moon,¡± she nearly yelled, pointing her small hand up at the red celestial body peeking through the leaves. ¡°THAT thing! I¡¯ve been thinking about this whole situation from your point of view, and it doesn¡¯t make sense! You should be way more impressed, or scared, or something! Instead, you¡¯re just lying there, not a care in the world.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡± he asked casually. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to sleep, I can tell you more stories.¡±


    She gave him an exaggerated sigh and threw her arms in the air in resignation, letting her back fall to the grass as she stared up at the coming night. ¡°I guess I don¡¯t have one¡­ And I don¡¯t think I need stories tonight.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± he questioned, remembering how she looked the night before. Last night she looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. All while her father slept¡­ One thing he could be for her was a friend. ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Mhmm,¡± she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her ears. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep better now that you¡¯re¡ª¡± She stopped and opened her eyes, her long ears twitching. She heard something, he could tell.


    Vincenzo sat up, looking serious. He could hear it, too.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± Plum asked, worried.


    ¡°Shhh, wake up your dad,¡± Vincenzo whispered, his gut sending him on high alert.


    What stopped Vincenzo was a small branch¡¯s snap, which along the journey he was usually able to believe was a small animal, or just his imagination. But this was different; it was coming for them in the same direction they arrived¡­ and it was getting close. Branches snapped as a low thud hobbled along until it must''ve been only twenty feet away. Plum could maybe make it out, but all Vincenzo could tell that it was about six feet tall and stood on four legs.


    ¡°Papa! Papa! Wake up!¡± she whispered.


    Cammo was roused from his slumber easily¡ªlike he also sensed the danger¡ªand grabbed the sword from his pack before standing up. He didn''t say a word, only squinting to make out its shape. It shambled closer until it was only ten feet away.


    ¡°Ah, it''s just a jer. They¡¯re grazers, so there¡¯s no threat,¡± Cammo said, loosening his grip slightly. ¡°We were eating one earlier. It is strange it''s coming so close, though. Must be sick.¡±


    Plum let out a relieved sigh as she came out from behind Cammo. The jer came closer, barely able to walk as it teetered back and forth. Vincenzo was the closest, only five feet away from it, but the coming night was still too dark for him to make it out completely. Cammo and Plum stood next to each other behind him, when Cammo¡¯s grip tightened suddenly. The animal walked into the campsite revealing its horrid appearance to the trio. A look of surprise and anger flashed on Cammo¡¯s face, before he exhaled coolly and managed to conceal behind his usual stony expression.


    It was a fucking monster. And it was the same jer they¡¯d eaten that morning. The two limbs the men had butchered were replaced by vibrant red muscle¡ªit wasn¡¯t hobbling because it was wounded, it was hobbling because the rest of its body couldn''t keep up. The side of its chest that it was gutted from displayed the same red tissue, while its split skull held itself together by a series of canines that interlocked in grotesque stitches. Its pupils dilated to cover the entirety of its eyes, making it look hollow.


    Vincenzo stepped back cautiously while Cammo pulled the leather mask over his face. Not a single one of them made a sound, they just waited for it to make a move¡­ any move.


    Without warning, the jer rushed towards Plum in a gallop! Vincenzo jumped in front and grappled its neck, stopping it suddenly, and pushed against it with his body as it dug its dull hooves in the dirt.


    ¡°Pass me the alcohol!¡± Cammo instructed Plum.


    The dark green aura he used previously enveloped him as he ran to the left side of the jer. He held his thick and heavy sword high and chopped it deep into the thing¡¯s spine, making every limb buckle from the force. The huge gash the sword left was covered up by more red tissue, allowing it to stand again. It was immortal. Cammo groaned in frustration as Vincenzo kept it in place with all the strength he could muster, and the emp stabbed through it violently, but the bloody spurts stopped a second later as the wound closed, rendering every attack useless¡­ ¡°Balls to it!¡± Cammo grunted angrily, tossing the blade to his left hand. ¡°Let go!¡±


    Vincenzo did, but instead of stepping back he pushed against the jer¡¯s chest to keep it from moving towards its obvious target: Plum. Cammo reared his stone-like right arm back like a cannon and punched its ribs in a swift yet brutal motion, sending the thing rolling across the ground with force the Italian had to marvel at.


    ¡°Oh, merda!¡± Vincenzo yelled, examining the gigantic depression left in its side. He was glad he never ignored Cammo¡¯s threats. ¡°Che figata!¡±


    ¡°Plum, the alcohol!¡± Cammo yelled, extending his right hand towards her in anticipation.


    She rummaged through his pack quickly, frantically looking for the container inside¡­ A nervous and hopeful smile spread across her lips. ¡°I got it!¡± she claimed, holding the glass bottle up. ¡°I got it! I got it!¡±


    The jer rose again, its depression having already healed with a supernatural speed, almost as fast as their own moon-man healed his own wounds. Plum tossed the bottle in Cammo¡¯s hand just as it jumped past Vincenzo, and Cammo shattered the bottle of flammable liquid against the thing with a throw. Just before Cammo could set it alight with the flint and steel in his hand, the creature kicked at him with a mutated leg! He brought both of his stone-colored arms across his chest as its hoof collided, sending him into a tree and splintering the old wood in the process. Vincenzo punched the side of its head only for it to kick him as well¡ªunlike Cammo, his chest caved in. It broke through his flesh and bone, getting stuck inside his body. He coughed up blood as it shook him off before stepping down on him with its right leg to help pull away. Horrible injuries were becoming the norm. Cammo ripped himself away from the wood and cracked the beast in its lower jaw, making it fly off as if it was never attached. Vincenzo stood up slowly and weakly, hand over where the cavity had been made. His chest was already repaired but the pain it inflicted remained; it took him a moment to control his breathing. The emp pulled out his fire starter and pointed it towards the corrupted animal, as it grew a new jaw filled entirely with sharp canines and observed him with hollow eyes. It wasn¡¯t a ¡°jer¡± anymore, it was a zombie of strength, a slave to its purpose¡ªthe purpose to kill.


    ¡°Burn,¡± Cammo ordered calmly.


    He squeezed the flint and steel, sending sparks onto its alcohol-soaked body which set it alight. Vincenzo backed up against one of the many trees and breathed a sigh of relief. Fire had gotten him, so maybe it would get it?


    ¡°Did we win?¡± he asked, closing his eyes. He was tired in general, and another fight to the death was the last thing he needed or wanted. There goes the peace.


    Cammo clicked his tongue in frustration, cracking his knuckles as his red eyes saw the truth. ¡°No, it looks like we didn''t,¡± he answered, his skin growing grey and hard. The fire died quickly all across its body, shaving off the mossy green hair on its back. It only went skin deep, literally, and left it a walking mess of exposed, twitching red muscle.


    ¡°Minchia,¡± Vincenzo cursed, pushing himself off of the trunk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try,¡± Cammo said, stepping forward. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of this.¡±


    He followed the masked man¡¯s order and backed away to Plum¡¯s side. She¡¯d been good, staying far away from the action at all times, running from end to end as shit was going down. Her eyes were wide, but otherwise she was calm.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Plum asked, looking at the blood stains on his chest and mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, but I¡¯d be more worried about him,¡± Vincenzo said, motioning over to Cammo.


    Plum shook her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±


    The masked man stood before the giant creature and spit at it through an opening of his own mask, and the zombie looked down at him with murder in its eyes and crouched slightly, meeting him at his level¡­ and charged! Cammo caught it by the sharp antlers and yanked it upwards violently with an audible crack! and pulled it to the ground, twisting its head until he pulled it off, spraying red. He shoved his hand down the things throat and rummaged around inside violently.


    Vincenzo promptly covered Plum¡¯s eyes with his large hands as he watched Cammo obliterate the thing. ¡°Jeez¡­¡±


    New muscle and sharp teeth would grow out of every gouge and gap, but Cammo would just keep gouging and creating gaps all the way until he was covered in a thick sticky layer of blood. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now!¡± Cammo yelled angrily, throwing entrails aside and ripping something out of the body. The jer fell limp and only occasionally twitched when he did, letting him step out from inside the corpse.


    He held a squirming slug as black as tar, large slimy wings spraying mucus on him as it tried in vain to flap away, screeching like a cornered¡­ Well, Vincenzo had nothing to liken it too, but it was high-pitched and unholy. Some got onto the surface of the already blood-stained mask, making Cammo frown in disgust. ¡°Fucking wretch!¡± he said, squeezing it hard. Its internal organs sprouted from its higher end like a fountain with a revolting squelch, falling onto his wrist and forearm the same way a busted sewage pipe would. Vincenzo thought it was one of the most disgusting things he¡¯d ever seen¡­ one of them, at least.


    He stopped blocking Plum¡¯s view and wiped the still wet blood on his face, resting his hands on her small, thin shoulders. Cammo threw the flaccid piece of tar-like skin aside as well as his stained clothes, leaving only some relatively clean-looking undergarments to hide his manhood.


    ¡°So that''s why this forest is special¡­ Anything you kill comes back to life,¡± Vincenzo said, letting Plum go and walking over to the jer. ¡°No¡­ No, I¡¯m wrong, aren¡¯t I? You would¡¯ve seen it coming.¡±


    ¡°I would¡¯ve,¡± Cammo said, looking much more worried than before. He cooled his expression back to stone. ¡°This is something completely different, fool.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?¡± Plum asked, averting her eyes from the grisly aftermath.


    ¡°This isn''t something that would be beneficial for you to know, so I¡¯ll tell you,¡± Cammo said, facing Vincenzo.


    He said, ¡°It¡¯d be nice if you told me something beneficial¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut it, don''t push your luck.¡± Annoyed, the skinny emp, bloodstained and sweaty, sat down. ¡°This is a spell and blessing by an old friend¡­¡±


    ¡°Friend?¡± Vincenzo asked. He never remembered the words ¡°gift¡± and ¡°blessing¡± when Cammo referred to wizards, only moon-men. But that couldn¡¯t be, he thought.


    Plum was confused too. ¡°Who, papa? Tell us.¡±


    ¡°Not now!¡± he said angrily, so harsh that Plum flinched from the tone. ¡°This is no time for stories.¡±


    She pouted and walked towards his clothes, holding it with two fingers on one arm and dragged it away from the ever-expanding pool of blood¡ªCammo grabbed it and tossed it right back in without so much as a pause.


    ¡°It¡¯s unwashable; don¡¯t even bother,¡± Cammo ordered.


    ¡°So why isn''t he here now?¡± Vincenzo asked, kneeling by the body and tearing off a piece of its mutated tissue. ¡°The ¡®friend¡¯, I mean.¡± The muscle seemed much denser than the rest of its tissue (the normal, unmutated tissue to be exact), which explained how it was able to easily knock a hole in his chest¡­ ¡°Doesn¡¯t he have to be close?¡±


    ¡°His ¡®blessing¡¯ is only effective when combined with his spell, but even then, he can¡¯t really do direct damage with it. This does the damage for him. It''s obvious he¡¯s improved, however¡­ I can tell by the slug¡¯s wings. It never had wings¡­¡± Cammo sighed. ¡°And now it does. It can fly. And unless they¡¯re close, it can fly far.¡±


    ¡°Papa, you never told me about anything like this!¡± Plum said, glaring at him.


    ¡°You, shut it!¡± Cammo said. Plum turned from him and crossed her arms. ¡°Listen Vincenzo, me and you will kill them all. And you, Plum, will stay here and follow after us at sunrise.¡±


    Plum scanned the murder scene once before staring back at him with anxiety. ¡°Does it have to be right here?¡± The thing twitched again and made her flinch. ¡°Please?¡±


    ¡°Obviously not¡­¡± he said, lighting a torch. ¡°Just hang around this general area, and don¡¯t wander off. Now, come on, moon-man. We have work to do. Take the torch and your pack.¡±


    ¡°Do I have a choice of not doing that?¡± Vincenzo asked, grabbing the torch which Cammo offered and carrying his huge pack. ¡°What if something else comes for her?¡±


    Cammo only looked at him as if he were a retard. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine.¡± He started away, only pausing to look over his shoulder and glare at him. ¡°Now.¡±


    Vincenzo reluctantly followed behind, still tired as hell. He hadn¡¯t gotten a good rest since the morning.


    ¡°Be safe¡­¡± Plum said when they had gotten far.


    ¡°We will!¡± Vincenzo called back. She was gone behind columns of wood and her voice was nervous and small. ¡°Don¡¯t forget! Sunrise! Come for us at sunrise!¡±


    Then there was a smile in her: ¡°I won¡¯t! Good luck!¡±


    With that, Vincenzo turned ahead.


    Cammo stayed silent, not acknowledging his daughter in the slightest. The two of them walked through the night, using the light the flames provided as guidance, into dangers unknown.

 The Opposition

    Fields of long grass stretched thousands of feet between two tree lines, swaying in the midnight breeze. A small camp sat in the middle, lit by a paltry flame. A canvas tent sat nearby, illuminated from the inside by dim lanterns while two other tents sat on either side. A meager encampment, but a functional one.


    A woman in a long cloak sat by a bedridden man inside the largest tent. The color of her skin was most similar to that of gravel, pebbles of gradient grays and blacks covering her body. Even with this rough-looking texture, her skin was still incredibly smooth, only housing sparse wrinkles. Four rusty eyes sat atop each other on a face with no eyebrows or facial hair to speak of, her long, once gray and black, striped hair was now turning into a more uniform gray. A long and slender tail poked out from beneath the cloak, raising the cloth, with a small heart-shaped end. Her delicate four-fingered hands held surprisingly sharp claws, while two furry ears like a dog sat on top of her head, replacing the ones most species would¡¯ve housed on the sides.


    She was a hiddunson.


    She gently rubbed a wet towel on her companion''s fevered head before returning the cloth to a bucket of cold water, small amounts of worry and weariness coloring her face.


    Her friend laid across the makeshift bed, panting hard and sweating profusely. His ashen skin did nothing but enhance his pitiful appearance, as his large serpent tail fell off the end of the bed and wiggled slowly. His arms were thin and his bone visible, and his yellow serpent eyes and lack of ears and nose¡ªwhich was replaced by four dark holes¡ªwould most likely scare any child (and any man) around. But the most eye-catching feature was the jagged red ¡°X¡± stained in the center of his chest. He was a moon-man.


    ¡°You should sleep, it¡¯s not as if wetting me with that will cure me¡­¡± the serpent said, shooing her away with skinny, elongated fingers.


    ¡°Shush, Slogine, it may not improve your condition, but it will ease it¡­¡± she responded, rubbing the cool cloth against him. ¡°That¡¯s better than nothing.¡±


    He gave her a small smile, before shutting his eyes once again and frowning, his worry obvious. ¡°Gult¡­ Do you think he and the others are safe? If Cammo continued his training, then I doubt he¡¯ll be an easy victory¡­ And the Blood Moon coming so early¡­ I don¡¯t like it. Cammo is one thing, but moon-men are another.¡±


    ¡°Mind¡¯s Tumor hasn¡¯t been activated yet, so I¡¯m sure they''re fine,¡± she said, grabbing hold of one of his hands. ¡°You need to relax¡­ If you hadn¡¯t trusted Gult, then we wouldn¡¯t have let him go. I¡¯m sure the others are looking out for him, too. And I¡¯m sure Gult can deal with a couple of fresh moon-men. He isn¡¯t that young. I think you forget he isn¡¯t a child anymore.¡±


    The tent flap raised as the third companion entered, yawning loudly. Pink skin covered her entire body except for the forearms and shins, which were covered in golden scales and ended with small talons. A large set of pink wings folded comfortably on her back taking as little space as her small¡ªfour and a half feet was small indeed¡ªbody did. Her large pupils were surrounded by a beautiful lime green iris that seemed to sparkle in the dull flame, the size of them similar to emps. In contrast to the other woman''s leather armor and cloak, she wore floaty and thin white cloth that submitted easily to the wind whims. Short pink hair that reached down to her ears hung freely in front of her left eye, blinding her there. Unlike her other bird-like features, she had a plump pair of lips, delicate nose, ears, and body. She was an avilop.


    ¡°I heard Gult¡¯s name, and you guys are way too loud!¡± she said, sitting in a chair beside the hiddunson. ¡°How am I supposed to sleep with all your noise?¡±


    ¡°It''s nothing,¡± the rock-colored woman assured, ignoring the second statement with a wan smile. ¡°Slogine was just a little worried about them.¡±


    ¡°It''s just that¡­ my black slugs entered three corpses, and one of those corpses got destroyed¡­ If they were going to encounter each other it''d be soon,¡± Slogine explained, turning over in his bed. ¡°I thought Locine should have died by now, but¡­ I felt a third person during that fight. Could that fortune-teller have been wrong? They had one child, she said. And the mother will die before you meet, leaving just father and daughter. I let Gult leave because Cammo¡¯s spell would¡¯ve been a bad match for Gult¡¯s. But Locine¡­ Gult¡¯s spell is a bad match for hers.¡±


    The rock-colored woman gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s okay. Gult can handle a sick woman if need be.¡±


    ¡°Buta, you only feel Mind¡¯s Tumor activate when he dies, right?¡± the feathered girl asked, facing her.


    ¡°Yes, Frey, it won¡¯t activate in any other case,¡± Buta answered, swiping the towel against Slogine¡¯s back who had rolled over to allow it. ¡°I won¡¯t answer the next time you ask that question.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, just let me know if anything happens¡­¡± Frey said, getting up to leave with a yawn. ¡°Maybe now I can get some sleep¡­¡±


    And, for just a sweet tiny moment, it was peaceful. Their hearts were whole. But it¡¯d all change in the next moment:The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Buta dipped the towel in water again and pulled it out. She was about to wipe away the sweat off his arm when she stopped abruptly. Squeezing wet cloth, an ominous hot pink light enveloped her, a light that was slightly less dense than Cammo¡¯s.


    Frey and Slogine turned to face her, both of them already seeming to know what she would say.


    ¡°It¡¯s activating¡­¡± Buta stated, letting the towel sink to the bottom of the bucket as the light dissipated.


    Frey looked anxious for a moment before bringing back the smile she entered with, but that was nervous too. ¡°Come on, Buta, jokes like that are in poor taste,¡± she laughed. ¡°If you don¡¯t want me pestering you about it, I¡¯ll stop. No need to scare me.¡±


    Buta got back up with a grim expression and walked over to her. Slogine sat up as well. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± Buta said, placing a hand on Frey¡¯s shoulder. Her face was dead, her voice a distant monotone. ¡°Gult¡¯s dead¡­¡±


    ¡°The rest are most likely gone too¡­¡± Slogine commented, burying his face in his left palm. ¡°Shit¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on, this isn¡¯t funny,¡± Frey said, looking more worried by the moment. It¡¯s just a cruel prank, she knew. Gult said he¡¯d be back, and that tousk bastard does NOT break promises.


    Buta looked at the ground shaking her head before pulling Frey close for a hug. Frey violently shoved her away, looking angry now.


    ¡°You said Cammo¡¯s spell couldn''t win against him! So Gult can''t have died from it! No way! And his wife¡¯s already dead, right?! So it was only him! You''re wrong! You¡¯re BOTH wrong!¡± Frey cried, backing away from Buta. ¡°Don¡¯t start giving me that ¡®Oooh! We¡¯re experienced!¡¯ crap either, you guys just don¡¯t want to admi¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cammo didn''t kill him¡­¡± Buta said, and Frey stopped. ¡°It was a moon-man.¡± Buta sat back down with a deep sadness spreading throughout her entire being. She was the first person to know, but it felt unreal. Gult¡¯s dead, she thought, as if to remind herself. Gult¡¯s dead. ¡°They were working together.¡±


    ¡°What? Wouldn¡¯t he kill the girl? Cammo¡¯s kid?¡± Frey asked.


    ¡°Not all of them would¡­¡± Slogine muttered, falling back in his bed. He was a moon-man, after all. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sorry¡­¡± Frey mumbled, calming down slightly. This was no joke, she was starting to realize. ¡°So¡­ it''s true then? He really is¡­ gone?¡±


    ¡°Yes, his last moments are playing in my mind over and over,¡± Buta said, grabbing her head with both hands.


    ¡°And the others?¡± Slogine asked, sitting up now with his back turned on the others.


    ¡°You already answered that,¡± said Buta. ¡°Gone¡­ Killed¡­¡±


    Frey fell to her knees, placing her rough golden-scaled hands in her face and started to cry. Softly at first, until they devolved into violent sobs.


    Buta got back up and sat beside her, placing one arm around her. Frey did not push her away this time choosing instead to throw herself into her arms, her cries the only noise in the silence of the night. Buta hugged her tighter as tears quietly streamed down her own face, and she gave Frey a light kiss on the forehead.


    ¡°Oh, Pinky¡­ do you want to know what his final request was?¡± Buta asked.


    Frey nodded her head softly in between sobs, hugging herself even tighter.


    ¡°He wanted to ensure your safety¡­ He asked if you could be spared.¡±


    ¡°He¡­ did that?¡± Frey asked, hiccupping.


    ¡°Yes¡­ the man who killed him agreed to this.¡±


    ¡°And he was the moon-man, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Slogine placed his own skinny hands in his face and took two deep breaths before coming to a conclusion: ¡°We failed the Guerrieros. Let''s leave this place¡­¡±


    Frey pulled herself away from Buta¡¯s motherly embrace, wiping away her tears and calming her breathing. ¡°What do you mean we failed? They¡¯re still out there, and people are still sick. You¡¯re still sick! We can¡¯t give up now¡­¡± Frey stood up. ¡°We can¡¯t!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous! We have no idea what that moon-man''s spell or ¡®gift¡¯ is!¡± Slogine shouted. ¡°I¡¯m not losing anyone else! Both of your lives are more important than anything to me, right now! Now be quiet! I¡¯m trying to think.¡±


    His outburst surprised her, so she looked down in a mix of sadness and embarrassment.


    ¡°I know, but we can''t stop now. We have to go forward, even alone,¡± Buta interjected, standing back up. They both looked at her. ¡°And it''s because of his eyes¡­¡±


    ¡°The moon-man''s eyes? What about them?¡± Slogine asked.


    ¡°They were black, Slogine. They were black¡­¡± Buta answered, looking into his to showcase the truth in her own. ¡°It¡¯s our duty. The moon-man who killed Gult was a Guerriero.¡±


    The three of them fell silent. Frey wiped away the last of her sadness and a look of hateful resolve replaced it. Buta stood by the tent flap and stared into the dark night, unsheathing two long blades with handles on the side of their hilts. And Slogine weakly slithered to her side, dismissing both of their attempts to help.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so ready, I still don¡¯t want to send you out there. Especially after Gult and the others lost,¡± Slogine said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be a meaningless sacrifice.¡±


    Frey stared at him with all sorts of violence in her eyes, violence and offense. ¡°Gult¡¯s death won¡¯t be meaningless,¡± she claimed, moving over to the tent flap. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Frey¡¯s right, Slogine,¡± Buta said, sheathing her weapons and placing a four-fingered hand on his shoulder. ¡°Plus, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re in any condition to stop us¡­¡±


    Slogine looked at both of them pleadingly; but they were right. Despite his size, he was too weak, too thin, too sick, and too tired to do anything to halt them.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he relented. ¡°But be safe.¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± they answered in unison.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of her, Slogine,¡± Buta promised. ¡°We¡¯ll be back.¡±


    The night went on as normal. The two packed up and made their way into the pitch-black forest. They gave the tired moon-man a wave goodbye and disappeared into the darkness, disappearing from the safety of the small camp''s light. Slogine laid back in his bed, dimming the lamp and falling asleep. In the last moments before the slumber caught him in the night, he said something quietly to himself as if in prayer.


    ¡°Be safe,¡± he said, turning off the one lantern. ¡°You two are all I have now¡­ So please, be safe¡­¡±


    They had been a family, even if none said the fact out loud. Slogine adopted the two wizards, Gult and Frey, who had been traveling together in rags at the time. He took them in, clothed them, fed them, loved them, and he felt that they loved him back. The hiddunson, Buta, had fallen in with him too¡ªshe loved him in another way, and Slogine loved her back. And their family had managed to survive for a long time. But now there were three left. And he hoped there¡¯d be hell to pay.

 Magic

    1


    Cammo awoke to the sickly smell of burnt flesh and hair, and saw with squinted eyes a pile of bodies thrown inside of the bonfire they passed the night prior. Vincenzo knelt nearby looting the packs of the burned ones, sorting out their belongings into two piles. The right one seemed to be filled with personal items that¡¯d have no use to him, and the left one was filled up with preserves, dried and salted meats, and whatever other useful thing they could use. The sun would be up soon judging by the horizon''s orange glow, Cammo knew. Vincenzo noticed him out of the corner of his eye and waved.


    ¡°Ah, you''re finally awake¡­¡± Vincenzo said, looking through a large pack. From the size, Cammo guessed it was Gult¡¯s. ¡°Right after I finished burning the bodies too. What a coincidence¡­¡±


    ¡°Why did you burn them?¡± Cammo groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position.


    ¡°You tried to kill the deer-thing with fire, and even though it didn''t work, it''s better to get rid of the remains,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Unless I¡¯m wrong and that''s some rare occurrence.¡±


    ¡°No, that was good thinking. Slogine births large slugs from the tip of his tongue, which then crawl into a body and turn its host into what you saw earlier¡­¡± the emp said, walking over to scarf down some perishables Vincenzo had set aside. The tendrils had sapped more than a little strength and he needed the fuel. His mana was still dangerously low. ¡°It¡¯s a nasty business. Where¡¯s my mask?¡±


    ¡°In your pocket.¡±


    He checked it and found it, squeezing it to feel the black leather as he continued to eat. ¡°Best way to take them out use to be fire, but I guess he progressed past that¡­ Now it seems like killing the slug is a better bet.¡±


    ¡°Yuck! I¡¯ve never been good with slimy things¡­¡± Vincenzo said, emptying another bag onto the ground. ¡°You know¡­ these guys aren''t bandits or anything like that.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Cammo asked, feeling his strength return as he practically inhaled the meal. He¡¯d be fine soon enough.


    Vincenzo looked away, slightly squeamish from the sight. ¡°Gult kept a diary¡­¡± The moon-man held up a small blue notebook. ¡°It talks about them.¡±


    ¡°So he did¡­¡±


    ¡°From what I saw, it isn''t just this ¡®Slogine¡¯ guy who gets cured, but the disease itself is eradicated¡­ Gult was telling the truth there at least¡­ And all these men had people sick at home¡­ They were farmers and the like, traveling hundreds of miles just to get here. Apparently, there were even more when they started to make the journey¡­¡± Vincenzo explained. ¡°But they obviously didn''t make the trip.¡± He opened it and looked inside.


    There was an uncomfortable silence between the two before Cammo decided to break it: ¡°Did it explain who the Guerrieros were?¡±


    ¡°No. Gult barely elaborated on anything, only writing every once and a while with tid-bits of information. All in all, it¡¯s pretty useless,¡± he said, closing it.


    ¡°You don''t think the men you just killed fighting to save the lives of their family, friends, and lovers is important?¡± Cammo asked, glaring.


    ¡°It is important, don¡¯t twist my damn words¡­ But that doesn''t mean I¡¯m going to change course now. I¡¯m not going to give Plum up, and by the way you reacted to their situation the first time, you aren''t going to, either.¡±


    Cammo calmed down and stared into the burning mass of flesh, the sun rising slowly among the quiet forest trees, bathing the area in its orange hue. ¡°That green light that hit you yesterday was either because of Gult¡¯s little sister or someone else. Slogine can only birth slugs with his mutation and give them orders with his spell¡­ In any case, let me know if you start feeling strange.¡±


    ¡°You''re shit at explaining anything that happens, you know. Could you at least sum this shit up?¡± Vincenzo asked, putting a pair of Gult¡¯s clothes into his own pack. He must¡¯ve grabbed that while he was asleep.


    ¡°Spells?¡±


    ¡°Spells, mana, and the weird energy that surrounds your body. The three things that could be really useful for me to know,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°So, get talking. I think I earned being taken out of the dark.¡±


    Cammo almost couldn¡¯t believe the pale giant squatting down in front of him was only eighteen years old; he seemed much older, and much more dangerous. But he¡¯s on my side, isn¡¯t he? Cammo thought. That was enough for him to talk. ¡°Hmm,¡± Cammo grunted, opening a bottle of looted alcohol in his right hand. ¡°And you don¡¯t want to know about the Guerrieros?¡±


    ¡°Dannazione, man, just tell me everything you think I should know! I haven''t slept in at least a day,¡± Vincenzo sighed, pulling out a large orage from Cammo¡¯s pack. A bite of that seemed to sober him up. ¡°Just get talking.¡±


    Cammo nodded and took a swig of the bitter alcohol in his left hand, feeling a comfortable burn in his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll start with mana then. What exactly mana is, is unknown. Legends and rumors have circulated about it, but nothing has ever been confirmed. In any case, it¡¯s the fuel that allows spells, ¡®gifts¡¯, and Glow to function how they should. As you saw earlier, my overuse of mana led to me passing out, just as you did after your first encounter.¡±


    ¡°How do you get it back?¡± Vincenzo asked, pocketing Gult¡¯s diary.


    ¡°Well, mana is something your body produces, so ¡®get it back¡¯ isn''t the right string of words. Eating nutrients should help, as you can see and as you experienced. It may take another half-hour but after eating that much, my body will produce enough to replace the mana I lost earlier. Remember this, as long as you have trace amounts of mana in your body you can continue to move like normal. It''s when you push yourself beyond your limits that you lose consciousness.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded, sitting cross-legged on the grass with a look of fascinated wonder on his hard face.


    Cammo thought he looked young again. How strange. The emp felt booze enter his bloodstream and shook his head, focusing. He didn¡¯t like not knowing what to make of someone, and he had no idea what to make of the Guerriero in front of him. He continued: ¡°Spells are even simpler. It''s just how your mana manifests.¡±


    Vincenzo chuckled to himself for a moment, catching the tipsy creature''s attention. ¡°Ha! I guess you could say it¡­ mana-fests!¡±


    Cammo chose to move on¡­ ¡°They reflect a person''s character in a couple ways, so keep that in mind¡­ And it varies from person to person. One simple rule to remember is that the more destructive or unavoidable a spell is, the more mana it generally costs to cast. For example, Gult¡¯s spell ¡®Vertidome¡¯ was unavoidable within its range and most certainly effective, and as a result he could only cast it a small number of times. While I, on the other hand, can cast mine as much as I like with how little mana it spends.¡±


    ¡°Like my regenerating limbs, right?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Now that''s the exception¡­ Wizards can have one spell and only one spell, and while that spell may have different functions within it, it''s still one spell. Moon-men on the other hand, appear with a guaranteed mutation as well as a spell. We call them ¡®gifts¡¯ when talking about moon-men and ¡®mutations¡¯ when referring to wizards. Mutations are just spells that affect the user¡¯s body and the user alone. Like that one from a couple nights ago who could grow claws from anywhere in his body, while also being able to fire beams from his eyes. It''s just a categorization people use to explain them simply because fundamentally, mutations are just spells. Simply speaking, wizards have one while moon-men have two¡ªthe second is guaranteed to be a mutation.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ so I haven''t even used my spell yet?¡± Vincenzo questioned, his face scrunching from the orange fruits'' extreme sourness. He gulped down a large bite and took a generous swig of his canteen.


    Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes and Cammo wondered just how tired he was. He¡¯s been moving bodies all morning too, he thought. He must be close to passing out¡­ That wasn¡¯t good. There was no time for rest anymore. He¡¯ll just need to suck it up for another march. ¡°Correct. With how long it¡¯s taking, it¡¯s probably similar to mine,¡± Cammo answered, pulling out his leather mask. ¡°You might regurgitate something like this.¡±


    ¡°What? Regurgitate?¡±


    ¡°Yep, regurgitate,¡± Cammo said, tossing it to him. ¡°It''s a ¡®fetish¡¯. It''s paired with me, so no one else could use it, and if I¡¯m not in some kind of physical contact with it, I wouldn''t be able to use my spell. But if I died, any non-wizard could pick it up and pair it with themselves. Of course, there are still exceptions¡­¡±


    The pale young man finished the fruit in one large bite and immediately washed it down with water, coughing a bit and punching his chest. ¡°So I¡¯m getting one of these, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you should vomit a fetish up sometime soon if my predictions correct¡­¡± Cammo answered, sorting out his own pack. ¡°Now give it back.¡±


    He tossed the black leather back at Cammo. ¡°Okay! All that''s left is the light and the Guerriero thing.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ Glow is just the act of bringing the mana stored inside your body out, enhancing almost every part. It also allows for the improvement of spells, like my Nature Mask. Without Glow, it could only change my skin different colors. While with a Glow, it could allow me to grow grass and stone as well as complex shapes and patterns along my skin,¡± Cammo said, standing up again to stare at the sunrise. ¡°And as for the Guerrieros¡­ They rule the world. They have black eyes, and they rule the world.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, and I¡¯m related to them, probably literally¡­¡± Vincenzo muttered nonchalantly.


    ¡°You seem rather fine with this news¡­¡±


    ¡°Eh, it just makes my enjoyment of other people''s suffering make a lot more sense¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me clarify something for you. The Guerrieros are most definitely evil. But that doesn''t mean they were lying to Slogine¡­¡± Cammo stated, facing him and standing. ¡°In this situation, even if our goal is the protection of a child¡­ we are still dooming innocents to slow and painful deaths. Vincenzo, we are the evil ones here. We¡¯re the ones choosing to sacrifice many for one. I¡¯m fine with that. I¡¯ll burn the world Plum.¡± He looked at Vincenzo with cold, red eyes, hoping that the moon-man saw the truth in them. ¡°And I¡¯d do it without regret. Plum is my world. But can you do the same?¡±


    The fire flared up as the corpses inside fell apart from the heat, leaving only the stench of death and a long silence. The blackened, shriveled eyes of the burned looked on in judgment. Cammo wondered what they thought of it all.


    Finally, the moon-man spoke: ¡°I killed drug-dealers, kidnappers, wife-beaters, murderers, rapists¡­ pedophiles¡ªthe usual members of organized crime. And my methods have been anything but¡­ moral. Yet I don¡¯t even think I could say I made the world a better place¡­ But for once in my life, I want to do something good. It may sound selfish, but I want to save your daughter. Even if it means others have to die¡­¡± More silence passed between them, as a strong breeze rushed between the leaves and leaned the fire in only the slightest way. ¡°I don¡¯t know who I am, Cammo. And I think I wouldn¡¯t like the answer if I found out¡­ But I¡¯m thinking¡­ I¡¯m thinking that this¡¯ll help me figure it out¡­ I¡¯ll save her, Cammo. I did it once and I¡¯ll do it again.¡±


    Cammo stared into his black eyes in search of a lie, but the darkness in them swallowed all. The orange of the fire and the sun disappeared within those dark balls, only adding to the mystery that was the young man in front of him. Was he evil? Was he good? Was he somewhere in the middle? Cammo couldn¡¯t tell. It unnerved him greatly. But, for now, his only ally for hundreds of miles was a Dark Prince from the depths of space. An ally was what he needed to help Plum, and it seemed like the moon-man shared that sentiment. ¡°Go and find her while I clean this mess up¡­ She doesn''t need to know about what her life costs¡­¡± Cammo commanded. ¡°She¡¯s like her mother: too good for her own good. If she figured out the sacrifice, she¡¯d turn herself in.¡±


    ¡°Alone?¡± Vincenzo asked, standing.


    ¡°Alone,¡± Cammo repeated, walking over to the right pile.


    Vincenzo smiled and left his bag, traveling into the woods the direction they arrived¡­ and soon he was gone. Cammo looked back towards the corpses and their judging faces, noticing the fact that there was one stout body beheaded in the inferno. Gult was headless. ¡°Why would he decapitate him?¡± Cammo asked aloud.


    The crackle of flames was the only answer he was bound to get, and got to work.


    Cammo grabbed a small stuffed animal that sat on top of the memorabilia and examined it for a second; rough green cloth kept white fluff from escaping its seams while various stains and rips displayed its frequent use. One of the small buttons that made up the thing¡¯s eyes hung in the breeze by a single thread¡­ He threw it into the flames. This is the cost, he told himself. It was the cost he was paying. I¡¯d burn the world.


    So he started with the kindling.


    2


    Vincenzo spotted Plum¡¯s bobbing pack as she ran over to greet him with a smile, and he returned it as best he could, hiding away the cyan blood that still stained parts of the black cloth. The sun was up fully then and so were the diurnal creatures that filled the silence with chirps, songs, and cries. He could already feel the temperature rise from the comfortable seventies that covered the night to the uncomfortable nineties. It was going to be a hot, long, and most likely exhausting day. That¡¯s what makes it a punishment.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he said, holding up his right hand in a lazy wave.


    ¡°Good morning, can I ride on your shoulders?¡± she asked.


    He hadn''t slept in a day. Even so, he picked her up and sat her on his broad back, still grinning. Some part of him couldn¡¯t refuse her. ¡°Any reason why?¡±


    ¡°Nope, just looked like fun,¡± Plum replied, kicking her legs up and down and tapping her heels lightly on his chest.


    ¡°Hm, can¡¯t argue with that.¡±


    ¡°Did you guys win? Did you beat ¡®em?¡± Plum asked, resting her chin on the top of his head.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Vincenzo answered, starting back.


    ¡°Where''s papa?¡± she asked. The small emp on his back leaned forwards and back, scanning for her father.


    He balanced himself. ¡°He¡¯s waiting up ahead for us.¡±


    ¡°What, really? He let you go alone?¡± Plum asked, gripping the side of his cheeks.


    ¡°He warmed up to me,¡± Vincenzo claimed. He grabbed onto her ankles to keep her from falling. ¡°We¡¯re on the same team, after all.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Does that mean I can tell you things? Without having to worry about him cutting you in half!¡±


    ¡°Cutting me in half?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what he said he¡¯d do if he found out you knew more than you were letting on¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeesh! With friends like that¡­¡± He glanced up at her. ¡°Hey, why do you and Cammo wear one outfit? I saw you guys had more clothes, but they''re all just the same too. Same thing with that red bow in your hair. What''s the deal?¡±


    She looked a little confused. ¡°Isn¡¯t that how everyone dresses?¡± she asked. ¡°Speaking of which, where¡¯d you get these clothes?¡±


    ¡°Stole ¡®em,¡± he answered. It was important to tell the truth sometimes. The best liars always did. ¡°And usually, people have different sets of clothes. Not the same thing over and over¡­ Is it an emp thing?¡±


    She looked up between the trees in thought. ¡°I guess it is,¡± she admitted. ¡°Dang, now I don¡¯t know the difference¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never left this place,¡± Plum said, solemn. ¡°So I don¡¯t know what¡¯s normal and what''s an emp thing¡­ As for the bow¡­ My mama gave it to me. I like it close.¡± That seemed to make her sad, and with that sadness came silence. He and Cammo had hiked far in the night, so they still had a ways to go. And after a long time¡ªten minutes, to be exact¡ªshe decided to continue: ¡°My mama said people could put a bit of their soul in things or places¡­ That¡¯s what she said she was doing when she gave it to me. It was my tenth¡­ I¡¯m sorry, am I boring you?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    He smiled and looked up at her, hoping she didn¡¯t notice the bags gathering under his eyes. ¡°You were bored the other night when I was talking?¡±


    Plum smirked sheepishly and shook her head, the braid swinging along with it.


    ¡°Same feeling here too. Go ahead.¡±


    Nodding, she went on: ¡°When I was ten, she told me all about it. She said, Plum, this is a piece of me. It may be a small piece, but I guarantee that it loves you just as much as me, and it¡¯ll watch over you long after I¡¯m gone. She wasn¡¯t even sick, then, you know? She was healthy and pretty as could be. But she made it sound like she was going to die¡­¡±


    ¡°Weird.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm. She also said, When me and Cammo die, we¡¯ll be going Up. And when we¡¯re Up we can¡¯t look after you how we used to. It¡¯ll be up to you then. Hopefully, she said, that won¡¯t be for a long time¡­ But you¡¯ll definitely be an adult by that point, so I¡¯m not worrying too much.¡±


    He crouched low and passed through a tight line of trees, careful not to decapitate the girl riding his shoulders on a low-hanging branch. ¡°You have some good memory there.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± He felt her nod. ¡°All emps do. We live a long time, so we have to.¡±


    ¡°And how long¡¯s that?¡± Vincenzo asked. Looking at her he tended to forget she was eleven years old, but their talks reminded him quick. She was a little immature, but not six-year-old immature.


    With a look of pride, she said, ¡°Three-hundred-and-fifty-years, on the average. If we forgot things quickly, mama said we¡¯d forget who our parents were or even who our kids are. We live a long time, and we remember every second of it.¡± Without asking, she began to run her small hands over his shaved head, feeling the stubble prick her palms. She didn¡¯t even seem to realize she was doing it. He didn¡¯t stop her. ¡°Anyways, going on¡­ She basically said that she put a bit of herself in the bow, and when she¡¯d die, it¡¯d stay behind with me as a guard.¡±


    ¡°A guard? A guard against what?¡±


    ¡°Everything under the sun and both moons, Vincenzo,¡± she said, a smile in her voice. ¡°E-even if she¡¯s gone, I have it with me. She¡¯s with me. Even if it is just a little teeny tiny, small little part¡­ It¡¯s very dear to me.¡±


    She seemed to be doing a lot better. Must¡¯ve been a good night''s sleep. God knows I need that too¡­ He yawned, paused, smacked his lips, and went on. ¡°That¡¯s good. That¡¯s good for you.¡±


    She was quiet for another couple of minutes on his shoulders, idly rubbing his head. Finally, she spoke: ¡°Do you wish you could have brought something with you? From Italy?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± He didn¡¯t spend his money on anything. All his ¡°worldly possessions¡± were either Marco¡¯s (TV, bed, lazy chair) or clothes.


    ¡°Like¡­ like something from your dad,¡± Plum said, quietly.


    He asked, ¡°From Marco?¡±


    ¡°Was that his name? You just said he was your father.¡±


    He didn¡¯t feel like arguing and it was close enough. Marco was close enough to a father and a mother in one. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s him¡­ You asked if I would¡¯ve wanted a memento from him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my bow makes me feel better. Maybe you¡¯d feel better if you had something.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m sad?¡± he asked. It came out a little rougher than he intended, and he felt her flinch.


    ¡°I-I just thought that since¡­ since, uhm¡­¡± She brought her hands back up. ¡°Forget it. I didn¡¯t mean anything by it¡­¡±


    Guilt came along and he sighed. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t know what came over me¡­ Yes, I am a little sad. And if I could bring something along, it¡¯d be heavy metal.¡± That seemed like an appropriate answer. ¡°It¡¯s a type of music.¡±


    Plum felt his stubble again, perking up. ¡°Was he a musician?¡± she asked curiously.


    Vincenzo chuckled under his breath. ¡°No, nothing like that. He just liked it. He just liked it a lot.¡±


    They were silent for a third time, and kept that third quiet for most of the journey back, taking in the waking woods that surrounded them on every side, breathing fresh air. Vincenzo felt a third wind coming along, the second having been used hours ago in the fight. They walked for a long while, eventually reaching where they were meant to be: the site of burning. He stopped for a moment, smelling the black death up ahead¡­ and Plum smelt it too, sneering at the dreadful stench. Jesus, they¡¯re still burning? He had used acid to dispose of bodies in Italy, taking Geno¡¯s advice to steer clear of fire to destroy evidence. But he had always wondered why¡­ And now I know. He looked up at the rising black clouds squeezing through the tight branches, and almost retched.


    ¡°What''s that smell?¡± she asked, gripping her nose in disgust.


    ¡°Close your eyes, okay?¡± he asked, squeezing her ankles tighter. ¡°And don''t open them no matter what, got it?¡±


    She smiled at him nervously, still pinching her nostrils. ¡°You''re scaring me a little¡­¡± she admitted. ¡°Why do I need to do that?¡±


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± Vincenzo asked, staring undistracted at the smoke.


    Plum watched them too for a moment, before looking down at him with big red eyes. ¡°I trust you¡­¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll close my eyes, and I won¡¯t open them no matter what.¡±


    That was a relief. ¡°Okay, close them now.¡±


    He walked forward, not even glancing back to check if her eyes were as closed as she promised, and met Cammo again, who was tossing the very last of the useful goods into Vincenzo¡¯s pack. He Glowed, picking up the bag with ease, and with the loot secured, he motioned for the pale moon-man to follow, disappearing beyond the invisible wall that separated wherever they were and the trees of tar¡­ The young man held his breath and stepped through, entering the murky place on the other side. ¡°You can open them now,¡± he said, setting her back down.


    She did and her unsure expression turned sour. ¡°What is this place?¡± Plum asked Cammo.


    He¡¯d already started ahead. ¡°The place in between,¡± he answered, looking back a moment. ¡°Do not touch anything! Especially the black goo¡­ Now follow me, we¡¯ve wasted enough time.¡±


    Plum grabbed Vincenzo¡¯s hand and stuck close, cringing away from low hanging vines on every side. This small and carefree gesture surprised Vincenzo, yet he did not pull away, only squeezing the hand gently in response. Cammo took notice but did not show any resemblance of jealousy or anger, letting a small smile creep across his stony face as he cut down the vines of black slime. That was progress, Vincenzo thought. But where it was progressing to, he had no idea. Crossing the small fantastical and lethal woods only took another ten minutes until they finally reached the end; another invisible barrier which Cammo moved through accidentally stood in the way. Cammo popped his head back through the transparent wall in such a way it looked as if he¡¯d been decapitated. A floating decapitated head at that¡­ At that point, Vincenzo had seen everything.


    ¡°Come, both of you,¡± Cammo said, a large grin that seemed so unnatural¡ªas opposed to his usual frown¡ªstretching across his face. ¡°This segment¡¯s my favorite¡­¡± He pulled his head back.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to get cut in half¡­¡± Vincenzo muttered, holding his left hand out in invitation.


    Plum looked at him with an innocent smile while taking it. Could he even smile like that anymore? He tried his best to and led her after Cammo¡­


    3


    ¡°Santa merda¡­¡± Vincenzo said, his jaw low.


    Humongous trees, trees larger than any redwood on earth, stood taller than any skyscraper all around them. The diameter of each trunk reaching at least forty feet wide, and Vincenzo couldn¡¯t begin to measure how tall. Flat branches stuck out of their massive trunks and connected with each other, forming natural walking paths in between them. The branches were about twelve feet wide, but if they¡¯d have been any thinner Vincenzo might¡¯ve had trouble crossing, and by the looks on Plum¡¯s face, she would¡¯ve too. At some point she had let go of his hand and had begun to squeeze the bow in her braid, looking both fascinated and nervous by the gargantuan interconnected woods all around. The orange colored ceiling above them¡ªwhich Vincenzo initially thought were because of a sunset, but turned out to be completely natural¡ªas orange, brown, and dull yellow star-shaped leaves floated down from above, blanketing the flat brown branch they stood on and falling past the on either side; the ones that missed the walkway fell into a deep pit far, far, far below where no light seemed to reach.


    Not your average forest, he thought, feeling like an insect. He was in absolute awe. He had no idea what that word really meant until he felt it, and when he felt it, he couldn¡¯t find the words to describe it. He could only think: Not your average forest at all.


    ¡°I can¡¯t even see the bottom¡­¡± Plum said, glancing over the edge before nervously backing up to the middle of the path.


    ¡°Then be careful,¡± her father said roughly. ¡°If even our eyes can¡¯t pierce its depths, then best to not fall in. Stay to the middle.¡±


    She nodded. Every trunk faded into it the black below, as if it were being swallowed by the void-like existence. ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me twice.¡±


    Vincenzo looked down and up and all around, and thought: Not your average forest.


    So what kind of forest was it?


    An autumn breeze came along, carrying the leaves with it. He glanced into the black nothingness beneath as well, feeling the unmistakable chill of an October day. He wondered what happened to the obnoxiously hot weather they were saturated in not too long ago. Another thing to ask about, he thought. Plum crossed her arms as she shivered, leading her father to hand her a light blanket to wrap around herself. She took it and shielded against the calm wind as if it were a raging blizzard. Cammo had a small smile as he traveled along the wood, breathing in the cool air before he let out a refreshed sigh.


    ¡°Well, come on,¡± he ordered, approaching the end of the walkway that led into the next. ¡°Oh, and put a coat on, Plum. This isn¡¯t sundress weather.¡±


    4


    A small path of wood stretched across the trunk from the beginning of the first branch to the next, only wide enough for a single person to travel along. They had nothing but the brown bark to cling to and no rail to guard them from a long, long fall. The smallest breeze¡ªall of the winds were relatively tame¡ªseemed stronger on the edge.


    ¡°Keep your footing sure,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°Is this what you meant by saying, ¡®Not your average forest¡¯?¡± Vincenzo asked, making sure to keep Plum''s small body as close to the bark as possible.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Cammo replied, knocking on the solid brown wood, ¡°this is a Crater.¡±


    Before he could ask what a ¡°Crater¡± was, Plum started to shiver, growing pale as she clung to the trunk of the tree tightly. ¡°Fear of heights?¡± Vincenzo asked, keeping one arm between her and the edge.


    She nodded violently, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against the trunk.


    He pat her on the back. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got you. I¡¯m not going to let you fall.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± she said, shimmying along the wall just a little more confidently. ¡°But I¡¯m not scared. Just a little nervous¡­¡±


    Vincenzo turned back to Cammo, knowing it was a lie. ¡°What¡¯s a ¡®Crater¡¯?¡±


    ¡°One of the Blood Moon¡¯s tears that fell on Overworld ages ago¡­ As you can see, they don''t make very much sense physically as they are magical in nature. Magic bends the world. They named this one the Seasons¡¯ Crater; each segment displaying each season,¡± Cammo explained. ¡°Last was Summer. This is Fall. Next is Winter. The last is Spring. Each has a different length, different weather, and different wildlife. No one comes here. There¡¯s nothing of value here. It¡¯s big and empty and without adventure for those seeking it, which made it the last place people would visit.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ So how big is this place?¡±


    ¡°We still have a lot of travel time left if that''s what you''re asking,¡± Cammo said. ¡°They¡¯re shaped like corridors. I know that looking towards your right or left you could see hundreds of trees, but that''s nothing but a lie.¡± The emp ran his hair behind his ears and scratched his pyramid nose. ¡°Just like you¡¯ve seen before, an invisible gateway is forcing us into a singular direction.¡±


    Vincenzo didn¡¯t like the sound of that. ¡°So that means there''s no way to avoid a fight, huh?¡±


    Cammo nodded and Plum fidgeted with her bow.


    ¡°Any predators around?¡± Vincenzo asked, changing the subject.


    Cammo said, ¡°Actually, yes. Your spell couldn''t come at a better time¡­.¡±


    Plum straightened up, her face lighting up with an innocent excitement just as the group moved away from the trunk and onto another branch. ¡°Ooh! What is it?!¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, no idea,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a fetish, he thinks.¡±


    ¡°What? Oh, so it''s like papa¡¯s with the mask and all¡­ What are you gonna name it?¡±


    ¡°Name it? Why would I do that?¡±


    She opened her mouth, expecting some kind of reply to come out, until realizing she didn''t have an answer herself. Her gaze turned to Cammo.


    ¡°It¡¯s culture,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°Uh huh, but whose?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Wizards,¡± the emp said. ¡°Moon-men. Both. We name the same way we name our children. We name them because they are unique to us and only us, the same way children are unique to themselves. Where that practice started, no one knows, but that¡¯s probably why wizards do.¡±


    ¡°Ah, and being a wizard is hereditary, right?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. As long as one parent is a wizard, the child would be. It¡¯s a certainty. And there¡¯s no way that someone born to at least one wizard parent will not have natural ability to use mana or manifest a spell of their own,¡± Cammo confirmed, traveling along the side of another tree. ¡°It''s said that the ratio between non-wizards and wizards is a thousand to one. But the disparity has probably grown since then.¡±


    ¡°So, when it comes out I can name it, right?¡± Plum interjected, excited.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Vincenzo said, shooting her down. ¡°I got one in mind.¡±


    Cammo faced him, and said, ¡°It should come up soon.¡±


    ¡°How do I know when I¡¯ll spit it up?¡±


    ¡°A quick flash of nausea,¡± Cammo said, and went on.


    The trio kept hiking through Fall, the cold air putting another layer upon each of them. Gult had packed a heavy coat of black fur which turned the breeze off easily and warmed Vincenzo to the bone. Plum traded her free-flowing dress for a pair of pants and a coat of the same pink color she wore before. And Cammo met the cooler climate with a light jacket of red. It was always either pink or red with them. The amount of leaves that fell would leave anyone to believe the forest to be barren, but the lush crown at the top never lost its grandeur. Even hours in, some part of him was still in awe. High noon did nothing to increase the heat, acting only as a signal for the march of time. Vincenzo glanced at the deep black below in thought.


    ¡°Why do you keep looking down there?¡± Plum asked, sounding and seeming uncomfortable by void.


    He could see why; it was still and large, and they had no idea how still or how large it was. ¡°At this point I¡¯m just really curious¡­ Cammo, what''s the deal with that abyss again?¡±


    Cammo ran one hand through his hair, breathing in the cool air with a small grin and a content look. The chance of falling into the dangerous unknown didn''t seem to disrupt his tranquil mood. He didn¡¯t seem to realize Vincenzo was talking to him until he grunted, ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°The darkness below, what''s the deal?¡±


    ¡°That''s where the predators come from. Well, the giant spiders¡­¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± Cammo and Plum looked at him in bewilderment. He blushed and calmed himself as if nothing happened, cleared his throat, and asked as he normally, ¡°What did you say about giant spiders?¡±


    ¡°Are you scared of spiders?¡± Plum asked, placing a hand on his knee.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared of spiders. Only giant ones¡­¡± he lied. His fear ran deep, right into the empty hole in his chest. He did more than fear them.


    ¡°Are giant spiders common where you''re from?¡± she questioned seriously.


    ¡°No, no¡­ it was just in a movie I saw once. Scared me bad as a kid, a time I got easily scared,¡± Vincenzo said. He turned to Cammo as casually as he could. ¡°So, um, uh, how big are we talking here? The size of my hand?¡±


    Cammo put the palm of his hand on Plum¡¯s head giving it two pats before continuing on. Her size. Vincenzo went pale, well, as pale as his practically white skin would allow. Plum grew a fair bit paler as well from seeing his reaction, and he tried to act a little braver for her sake.


    ¡°That¡¯s just length, right?¡± he asked, sounding like someone who was trying to sound like they weren¡¯t nervous when they absolutely were.


    ¡°Height.¡±


    A flash of extreme nausea hit him in the head as he fell to his hands and knees, starting to dry heave! Plum rushed to his side trying her best to keep him upright, while Cammo only stood and watched. He thought his stomach was about to burst, and created a disgusting HUAGH! noise again and again for over a minute¡ªthen something crawled out of his throat and onto the leaf-covered branch. The moment it was out he felt infinitely better. It was a gray and shapeless blob, nondescript in every other way.


    ¡°Congratulations! That''s your fetish¡­ Whatever it is¡­¡± said, doing his best and failing to sound enthusiastic.


    Vincenzo waved Plum away in a ¡°I¡¯m fine¡± motion, laughing to himself as he did. ¡°I get it¡­ There were no giant spiders, you were just scaring me to get it to come out quicker!¡± Half the relief came from that. ¡°Nice one, Cammo. You got me good!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he clarified coldly. ¡°None of that was a lie.¡± His smile was small yet genuine. ¡°But I guess it did scare it out of you¡­¡±


    ¡°Porca puttana¡­¡± Vincenzo whispered. ¡°Why are there giant spiders? Actually, I guess there''s no real answer to that. Just tell me what they eat.¡±


    ¡°Insects that also live down there. They don''t like light, so they stay there until night. Even then, a fire should keep them at bay,¡± Cammo said, examining the blob of grey.


    Plum sneered, hiding behind her father. ¡°It looks like snot¡­¡±


    ¡°Now what?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Touch it.¡±


    He thought that it was a joke at first, but Cammo wasn''t the joking type. Crouching down, he poked at it. It was much more solid than he thought, the tip of his finger coming away gray as the amorphous blob wobbled at the touch.


    ¡°With your bare hands,¡± Cammo specified, ¡°you have to grab it.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡¯¡¯ Vincenzo said, standing up and backing away. ¡°I already told you I don¡¯t do well with slimy shit. That¡¯s a,¡± he crossed his arms into an ¡°X¡±, ¡°no from me.¡±


    ¡°Is that how yours looked when it first came out?¡± Plum asked Cammo.


    ¡°Yes, but it turns into some kind of item when the owner touches it¡­¡± Cammo said, before kneeling down and grabbing the snot-like blob with no gloves.


    Plum and Vincenzo let out an instinctual dry heave, just as Cammo¡¯s dark green Glow enveloped him. The pale young man did not like the look of that, nor did he like the small, and almost excited, grin on the emp¡¯s face. Don¡¯t throw it at me, he pleaded internally.


    But the emp couldn¡¯t read minds.


    Cammo threw it at him and got him right in the face, splattering the blob against him the same way a tomato would! Vincenzo yanked it away with one hand, some strange slimy residue clinging to his lips, nose, cheeks, and eyelids.


    ¡°Gross!¡± Vincenzo grunted, trying to fling the blob off his hand. No matter how much he flailed his arm, the grey ball would only wobble in protest, until he finally gave up and sat on his ass. Then came the wonder. ¡°Cavolo¡­.¡±


    The once greasy and sticky looking snot bubble began to rapidly change, growing longer, heavier, sleeker, and more familiar¡­ the residue on his face falling to join it. The mass shook violently for only a moment before finally reaching its conclusion. This is no ordinary booger, he thought with an amazed chuckle. His fetish had been born:


    Two long metal barrels in the color of silver sat parallel to each other on solid black wood, twin triggers sat behind each barrel (close enough together for one finger to pull both), and it lacked a stock. It was heavy, heavier than any gun he¡¯s held before at twenty-five pounds, and to him it was a cannon. It¡¯s like a goddamned Nitro Express! With a small amount of force, the barrels opened; it was unloaded, leaving only the spiral rifling that engraved the inside of its cylindrical walls.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Plum asked, reaching for the weapon.


    Vincenzo yanked it away, hiding it from her small hands. ¡°Not something for kids to play with!¡±


    Plum pouted, giving him a small kick in the ass which he easily ignored.


    ¡°Any urges?¡± Cammo asked, crouching down to examine the weapon as well.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Vincenzo grunted. He was more interested with the gun than the question.


    ¡°Any urges?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°What kind of question is that?¡± Vincenzo asked back.


    ¡°Do you have any gut feelings by touching it? Any information that popped in your head, explaining it? Any reflex? Because that''s the key to knowing how it works, and you¡¯re the only one who could,¡± Cammo explained, standing back up. ¡°So? Any urges?¡±


    Vincenzo did have an urge¡­ Without thinking he touched the wood he sat on with his left hand, and with a small ¡°pop¡± a golf ball shaped hole appeared.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Cammo said. ¡°What¡¯d you just do?¡±


    Vincenzo ignored him again; he wasn¡¯t done yet. He closed his hand, feeling a small cylindrical object inside of his grip, and opened it slowly¡­ A shotgun shell sat in his palm with the same texture, color, and pattern of the wood it was born from. Holy shit, he realized. I¡¯m magic. He got up slowly, loading the shell inside the left barrel, closing it with a satisfying, Kachunk! The information Cammo promised would come came.


    ¡°This is a gun. My gun¡­¡± Vincenzo said, taking aim at a tree forty feet away. Knowledge popped into his mind much like the language they spoke did; it was just there. ¡°Heavy Metal¡­ That¡¯s its name: Heavy Metal. And I know exactly what it does. I can turn anything into a shotgun shell.¡±


    He fired into the tree, the force of the blast almost knocking him off his feet! A BANG!¡ªwhich was loud, but deafened just enough not to cause ear damage¡ªbegan to echo throughout the forest. Large chunks of wood flew off into the dark from where he shot, leaving a hole the size of his head. It was his and it was powerful. Jesus, he thought, looking down at the glinting silver. This thing¡¯s a monster. Hell, I bet it could take out and elephant.


    ¡°Seems deadly¡­¡± Cammo said. There was something in his casual tone that told Vincenzo he was worried.


    ¡°As long as giant spiders aren''t a threat, I¡¯m happy,¡± Vincenzo replied, holding it close to his face to study. ¡°Giant spiders are really the only thing I¡¯m caring about right now.¡±


    Cammo let out a small sigh.


    ¡°Can I touch it now?¡± Plum asked, reaching high for the metal.


    ¡°Not if I can help it!¡± Vincenzo said, yanking it away. ¡°Not a toy, Plum. You could hurt yourself with this. You could kill yourself with this! Don¡¯t touch it.¡±


    She pouted again but didn''t kick him, only turning her back in a huff. Cammo continued on followed by Plum and Vincenzo a moment later. The three of them walked along the flat wood as they did before, the only difference being the extra twenty-five pounds stuck to Vincenzo¡¯s back as they hiked. Along the way, Vincenzo Guerriero made enough shells from the wood around them to drop an army of elephants¡­

 Hike

    1


    Winter air bit into the two women as they walked along frozen plains, their coats barely keeping out the raging, screaming blizzard, as wind howled too loud for them to hear what the other said. Frey dragged something huge over the surface of the snow; it was twice the size of her body and almost as thick, and it was covered in a thin sheet of snow. Even stranger was the simple clock that floated over her head, following her every move.


    It wasn''t until the pitch black of night that they found a small cave to seek refuge in, using a small fire and warm blankets to keep the horrible freeze at bay. The iron club Frey was dragging sat near the entrance, cracking the stone it sat on into dust.


    ¡°Hand me the water?¡± Buta said, extending a hand.


    Frey absentmindedly handed her the canteen, staring intently at a small rectangular crystal in her hand. The crystal looked similar to a smartphone humans might have used on Earth, its faint blue color humming silently, until the screen revealed numerous smaller icons. Six different colors spread across the screen like stained glass.


    ¡°Are you going to call him?¡± Buta asked, scooting over to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to call Slogine¡­¡± Frey said, tapping on a purple shard.


    The item let out a low monotonous drone while the screen covered itself in the same color of the icon she had pressed. It finally stopped with a sharp pup-punk!


    ¡°Are you safe?¡± Slogine asked, his voice coming through clear.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Frey said, holding him to her ear.


    Slogine let out a sigh of relief before coughing violently; she frowned at the noise. ¡°Are you safe?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­ I just need a bit of water¡­¡± he answered, in between coughs. He drank something and came back. ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°Good¡­ I¡¯m going to put Buta on,¡± Frey said, handing him to the gravel-skinned woman. Frey laid down on her side and turned away from them, watching the wall.


    ¡°How is she, really?¡± Slogine asked.


    Buta looked at the now crumpled girl who was sobbing silently in her hands, trying her best not to make any more noise than necessary. ¡°Not good¡­ You know how close they were,¡± Buta whispered, stealing glances. ¡°She¡¯s depressed¡­¡±


    ¡°Let''s not forget about you, either. How are you feeling, my love?¡±


    Buta never expected herself to be a mother. Like most female wizards, she had her eggs destroyed so she wouldn¡¯t have to worry about getting thrown into a farm, bred like some animal. Becoming infertile seemed like the safer choice. Then came the moon-man with two brats along with him, and as business¡ªbounty-hunting business¡ªwould have it, they were together for a bit. She didn¡¯t mind it. Slogine was powerful and the kids kept their distance, either scared of her glare or just distrustful by nature. They worked like that for a while and made a bit of cash, so much that she didn¡¯t feel like breaking off their arrangement. She stayed and as she stayed the children stopped staying away and started asking questions, bugging her for stuff, playing with her. Strangely, she didn¡¯t find them as annoying as she thought she would and became increasingly obliging. Frey, the small and fragile avilop, seemed unsure of herself and too kind for her own good, a stark contrast to her ¡°brother¡± Gult, the rough tousk, who always seemed too confident for his own good. And then, when they asked, she started telling them bedtime stories, cooked them meals, let Frey sleep in her tent when a nightmare came along, disciplined Gult when he started getting himself into trouble, and began to kiss them good night. Without even realizing, she was a mother. And then, despite the fact she hadn¡¯t found the moon-man very attractive, she found himself in his tent while the children were sleeping. And in that tent¡­ Without even realizing, she became his (unofficial) wife. That was Buta¡¯s life.


    And she didn¡¯t regret this turn of events one bit¡­ at least until¡­


    ¡°How close is Evil Dead?¡± Buta asked, dodging the question. It was too much for her to bear, too much to focus on¡­ ¡°We¡¯re making good time with Frey here. Very good time. When the skies are clear we can travel miles. Right now we¡¯re in a cave. Some blizzard hit us hard. How are your slugs making time?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re making time¡­ but Cammo burned the bodies,¡± Slogine said.


    Buta let out an involuntary whimper but steeled herself in the girl¡¯s company. There didn''t need to be two grievers, she thought. She needed to be strong. If not for herself, then for Frey.


    ¡°Cammo and the other two are probably in Fall right now¡­ The way things are going, Evil Dead will absolutely intercept them at the end of Winter. It¡¯s slow, yes, but persistent. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll even pick up a third on the way too. I¡¯d just have to send out another slug to explore the bottom of Fall.¡±


    ¡°That''s if we fail¡­ I felt it with Mind¡¯s Tumor, the one with black eyes has a spell now,¡± Buta said. ¡°He¡¯s the one I hit, Slogine. Pretty soon he should feel it¡¯s effects.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should wait for Evil Dead, Buta. We don¡¯t even know if Frey will be able to do it when the time comes¡­¡±


    The wind howled, drowning out the faint sobbing of the teenager on the cold stone floor¡­ Buta hated seeing her like this, but she also couldn¡¯t do anything to help her, either. Every attempt at love was met with a stubborn wave of anger, and she couldn¡¯t get close. It hurt, but she could bear it¡ªwould bear it.


    ¡°Maybe¡­ But we¡¯re pressed for time. Not to mention all the others¡­¡± Buta said, sitting up a little straighter.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me! You two have to make it out of this alive!¡± Slogine said. The outburst brought on a coughing fit¡ªa violent coughing fit.


    Although Buta couldn''t see the damage, she heard it just fine. Everything seemed to be crumbling. ¡°Slogine, I hit the moon-man with my spell. He¡¯s cursed. By the time we get there it¡¯ll probably be me and Frey against just Cammo. We¡¯ll be okay. If we didn¡¯t have that advantage, I would¡¯ve agreed with you before,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m going to hang up, okay? Go to bed and drink lots of water¡ªand stay away from the flames so the smoke doesn''t climb into your lungs!¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­ Listen, Buta?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± She glanced over Frey. After her short sob she¡¯d fallen asleep and rolled her direction, her eyes still puffy. Frey seemed sad, even in sleep. ¡°Yes, Slogine?¡±


    ¡°Be safe out there, and if it gets too dangerous just take her and run. My life isn''t something we need to sacrifice anymore for¡­ And one last thing, tell this to Frey too¡­ I love you,¡± Slogine said, finality leaking into his tone. ¡°Both of you.¡±


    A smile crept across her face as she knelt beside her daughter, gently wiping the tears off her fair pink cheeks. ¡°I love you too¡­ We both do.¡±


    She cut the connection and put the device away. It¡¯d been a gift from the Guerrieros, a piece of technology that only Overworld¡¯s rulers had access to as a direct line between them and the Ruler of Everything. She didn¡¯t like using it unless she had to.


    Buta brushed aside Frey¡¯s hair, planting one kiss on the side of her cheek, before she covered her in a thick blanket and hugged her tight. Frey¡¯s sad face lit up with just the smallest of smiles. Even asleep, she was able to recognize her mother¡¯s warm embrace, and held Buta¡¯s hand close to her chest. Just like when you were a child, she thought happily. Buta kissed the back of her head one last time before starting to fall asleep herself. The warm glow of the flame combined with the sound of snow made sleep easy, despite the dangers that awaited them. And before drifting off into rest she wondered if Frey could do it; if she could truly kill a man¡­


    2


    Frey dreamed that night, something that was usually uncommon for her. And it was a vivid dream too. The area around seemed out of focus; a white fog spilled over a black floor. No walls surrounded her, it was just more black. Despite her uncanny surroundings, she didn''t feel unsafe. On the contrary, she felt at ease. She only noticed the familiar figure standing nearby when it waved.


    It was Gult! Surrounded by fog and maybe a little see-through, but it was him! She felt ashamed of the tears welling up in her eyes; she had already cried so much¡­ but made no attempt to wipe them away. She buried her face in him, hiding the tears but not the small jolts from her shoulders that resulted from her sobs. Gult accepted her grief, closing his own arms around her in a gentle embrace.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d never see you again!¡± she cried, pulling herself away to wipe her face.


    ¡°Well, you''re not wrong¡­¡± Gult said. He was stroking her hair and his smile was sad. His eyes were sad.


    She pulled away. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t remember this when you wake up, you''ll only end up keeping the feeling,¡± he answered, wiping the steady stream running down her cheek with his thumb.


    This small amount of information made the tears unstoppable, as she realized that this bittersweet moment would disappear forever¡­


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey, it''s okay¡­ I just wanted to see you one last time before moving on¡­¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    ¡°Was it painful? When it happened, did you suffer?¡±


    ¡°Do you really want to know?¡± he asked, looking at her seriously.


    She nodded her head, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°Yes, he beat me to death. And yes, it hurt,¡± Gult said. ¡°He¡¯s strong, Frey, strong and dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Why?! Why would he do something like that?!¡± she yelled. A white-hot fury came over her. ¡°That son of a bitch!¡±


    ¡°I already told you the night I left that something like this may happen. I went out looking for a fight and I got one. I chose this, Frey. I was asking for it.¡± He went on one knee, his stout figure dim. ¡°Now, before I move on, I have one last thing to ask you.¡±


    She wiped away her tears over and over to no end, only raising her head to face him in his now even more blurry appearance. She gave him a quick nod to let her know she was listening.


    ¡°Are you absolutely sure you can fight? I know you¡¯ve killed beasts and the like easily, but never people¡­ Are you sure you can do it?¡±


    ¡°He is not a person! He¡¯s evil, I know it!¡± she answered.


    ¡°You¡¯ve faced people worse than that before and you still weren''t able to do it¡­¡±


    Her gaze dropped at the truth in his words. ¡°But¡­ if I can¡¯t beat him, then all of their families will¡­¡± She got angry again. ¡°I just need to do it! If I ran away now, I¡¯d never be able to live with myself!¡± Her emerald eyes were burning. ¡°I have to, Gult. It¡¯s the right thing to do. And none of those people I faced before hurt you. He killed you. I can do it.¡±


    Gult fell silent. ¡°Is that really what you want? I left alone because I wanted to take responsibility for that kid''s eventual death, not you¡­ Are you absolutely sure?¡± he asked, placing his rugged hand on her small shoulder. ¡°Can you handle that, Frey? Can you bear that?¡±


    Her eyes stopped burning. If she did decide to participate in the destruction of the girl¡¯s security, then she wouldn''t be just a spectator anymore¡­ She¡¯d be the same as her own attackers all those years ago, the one with chains and cages and greedy smiles. She¡¯d be what Gult and Slogine saved her from: a Seller.


    ¡°There isn''t any other way¡­ If she doesn''t die, hundreds more will¡­¡± she said. The fire went out. ¡°If I don¡¯t get her killed, I¡¯ll be getting the rest killed instead¡­ One girl for hundreds, Gult. If that¡¯s the trade¡­ If that¡¯s the trade, I¡¯ll take it. Even if it damns me.¡±


    He pulled her close as he grew more and more translucent, kissing her cheek. ¡°You''re so much stronger than you know¡­ Even if your Glow isn''t very thick, you can still do it¡­ The man who killed me promised not to kill you¡­ Use that¡­ Goodbye, Frey¡­¡± Gult said. The tousk, a giant compared to her, pulled away and placed both hands on either cheek. ¡°I love you.¡±


    The next second he was gone.


    3


    The feeling of his hug soon faded along with it and Frey woke up, tears sliding along her face with a determined and infuriated scowl. She pushed aside Buta''s hug, standing up fully against the frigid morning air, waking up Buta in the process. ¡°Pinky?¡± she said, groggily. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Frey didn''t pay any mind, only tapping a shard of red on her strange device, hearing it drone on and on¡­


    4The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Cammo, Vincenzo, and Plum sat around the campfire and stared into it. The rough tree beneath them didn''t catch any of the flame¡¯s infection, but it did hold its heat, warming them as they sat. The air was cold but the fire was hot, and all around it was more than bearable¡ªit was relaxing. Plum had laid her head against Vincenzo¡¯s thigh, and curled up under him in a blanket, sleeping soundly. Vincenzo held his body up with two hands placed on the wood behind him, while Cammo sat on Vincenzo¡¯s pack carving away at something yet again. All around them was darkness. The fire was their light, and it was light enough.


    ¡°She did that with her mother¡­ lay her head on her lap and sleep¡­¡± Cammo said, shaving away a long strip.


    ¡°Did she have muscled thighs?¡± Vincenzo asked, looking down at her blissful expression with a smile. ¡°Like mine?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly¡­¡± the emp answered apathetically, whittling fine details.


    ¡°Are giant spiders going to be a problem tonight?¡± He¡¯d been worrying about them since the sun went down, constantly looking over his shoulder.


    ¡°The fire will ward them off¡ªas I¡¯ve already said, if you need reminding¡ªas well as other creatures.¡± Cammo blew some shavings off his figurine. ¡°We¡¯re safe for now.¡±


    ¡°You seem like you were in a good mood earlier¡­ You like the Fall?¡± he asked, careful not to disturb Plum¡¯s gentle rest.


    ¡°Indeed. I met Locine during this season when I was still a mercenary. Plus, I¡¯ve always liked the colors,¡± Cammo said, grinning softly.


    ¡°And that''s the connection you have to this ¡®Slogine¡¯ guy, I¡¯m guessing? Met him doing mercenary work?¡±


    ¡°Yes, me and him were partners for a time,¡± Cammo said, looking up at the sky. The stars were out that night and the moons were hidden by the trees, no longer hanging right over their heads. For now, it was just them, the stars, the dark, and the fire.


    ¡°And by the situation we''re in, I¡¯m guessing you didn''t end on the best terms¡­¡± Vincenzo said.


    Cammo shook his head, carving small details into what now looked like a pig¡ªVincenzo thought it was a pig. After a couple more scrapes and gouges, he held the small effigy close to his chest. His ruby-red eyes shut and nodded his head. ¡°Oh, Gyily, grant us good fortune on our long and arduous journey¡­ Grant us fair weather and clean, clear paths¡­ Grant us strength in our legs and air in our lungs¡­ Grant us strength to carry ourselves with humble pride from our enemies.¡± Cammo prayed. He tossed it to the flames and opened them again.


    ¡°I didn''t know you were religious,¡± Vincenzo said, a little surprised. The last thing he thought the emp would be into was religion. It didn¡¯t fit.


    ¡°I¡¯m not, but anything helps¡­¡± Cammo muttered, setting up a hide sleeping bag. ¡°I left Slogine for dead¡­ I thought that there was no chance, so I fled. It was a chance me, Locine, and he could make it out or a guarantee two could escape if one stayed. I chose for us¡­¡± He stared at Vincenzo with an unfamiliar softness. ¡°That''s not the reason he¡¯s come for us, though. Apart from all the other disgusting vermin moon-men in the world, he¡¯s one of the good ones.¡±


    ¡°He still murdered an innocent, though¡­¡±


    ¡°Sacrificed. The difference there is crucial!¡± Cammo said, angry. ¡°Sacrifice¡­ it''s different¡­¡±


    Plum groaned softly, growing restless in her slumber. Without thinking Vincenzo started stroking her hair¡ªto his surprise and amazement, Cammo didn''t rip him in half¡ªand Plum calmed down a moment later.


    ¡°You know¡­ As far as wizards go, I may be one of the most sympathetic ones towards moon-men. But I still find myself a little conflicted about you,¡± the emp claimed. ¡°Do you have some kind of evil figure in your world?¡±


    ¡°Like what? In religion?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯ll work. What is the ¡®evil¡¯ force in your religion?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not religious myself, but the main guy is Satan.¡±


    ¡°Satan, huh?¡± Cammo asked, not satisfied. ¡°We have the King of Hell in Hell as we speak. I¡¯ve seen him before, but he¡¯s on a tight leash¡­ Anyone else? Maybe from your history?¡±


    Vincenzo decided that he didn¡¯t want to know how Satan was just around in this world and moved on, thinking of all the bastards he¡¯d learned about in his brief stint in school. ¡°Hitler. Bad guy. Genocide. Enough said.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ imagine if the son of Hitler came down and saved your daughter. Then you saw him beat someone to death with a smile on his face, and not long after that, gently put her to sleep as if it were second nature¡­ That¡¯s the position you¡¯ve put me in.¡± The emp stroked his hair back.


    Vincenzo shrugged. ¡°I guess that¡¯d be pretty jarring¡­¡±


    Cammo shrugged back, mocking his lack of an answer. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I get it. I don''t blame you for all that shit before, but you''re not trying to justify your actions, are you? No¡­ you''re trying to figure me out. Let me make it easy for you to understand. The pain of others calms me¡­ It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s like a drug. I felt it in my first schoolyard fight at eleven. A fight I got expelled for. And I¡¯ve been chasing it ever since. It¡¯s one of the few things I enjoyed. Anyway, I¡¯ve killed and killed, not for any legitimate reason, even if I might be able to come up with some¡­ Like, I could say I did it to clean scum off the streets! They were all assholes, wife beaters, child touchers, murderers and the like, but that¡¯s not why I really did it¡­ Wasn''t for the money either¡­ No, it was because I liked it. Because I had nothing better to do. Because I was good at it. Because it''s just what I do. But I will never, never, hurt someone innocent again,¡± he finished, shaking slightly from the memory. ¡°And I¡¯d really appreciate it if you didn¡¯t bring my father up again. I¡¯ve been dealing with the consequences of his actions since I was four¡­¡±


    Cammo looked at him with the same cold expression he usually wore, not saying a word. His shaking was enough to stir Plum awake as she sat up stretching her arms back in a tired yawn. Vincenzo¡¯s look of anger, regret, and sadness disappeared as she looked up at him embarrassed. ¡°Oh! Sorry, I didn''t mean to sleep on you¡­¡± she apologized, crawling into her own hide bag.


    ¡°No worries. Wake me up if you need anything, okay?¡± he said, laying his back against the wood.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± she yawned, falling asleep almost immediately. Just like her father.


    Vincenzo chuckled softly, before remembering his little monologue. He looked over at Cammo who was still watching with the same ¡°nothing¡± expression. Laying back down he let out an exhausted sigh. ¡°Come on man, give me something¡­¡± he whispered, closing his eyes.


    A blanket landed on top of his face, forcing him to sit back up again. Cammo was already asleep, his back turned, facing the tree they arrived from. A small smile grew on Vincenzo¡¯s face as he laid back down¡­ I haven''t slept in two days, he realized dully. Luckily, it came quick.


    5


    In the nightmare he was young, and in it he was naked, and while naked he was cold and afraid, a small child shivering in the dark, swatting away at the endless hordes of spiders crawling on his arms and legs, crawling on his tiny little kid cock where it hurt to swat, crawling back on and biting him no matter how much he cried. Then, from the rickety staircase leading out of the basement he was trapped in, came the biggest spider of them. It crept down the stairs, its human face staring at him with evil green eye, a lecherous grin filled with sharp teeth, and a scar¡ªone scar that went over one shut eye. Wisps of red hair sprouted from its pale skull and its face was a mess of pale white and freckles, the rest of its insect body a deep black that blended into the background. It hadn¡¯t come down to eat him. It came down to steal from him, like it¡¯d always done. With a hard, pointy stinger. But when he screamed for it to get away, spiders crawled down his little throat the same way the stinger had done, filling his lungs¡­


    6


    Vincenzo awoke biting into the flesh of his own arm, tearing the muscle and skin apart the way a dog would, ripping away a chuck of meat before spitting it into the abyss. The sky was still dark as he vomited over the side, a splitting headache accompanying his accidental cannibalism. Yet, even in his sad, sick state, the only emotions he felt were a mix of rage and an empty sensation in his chest.


    ¡°What?¡± Cammo asked, sitting up now, awake from the commotion.


    Vincenzo wiped away the bile and blood from his lips before turning to him, looking half dead. The headache grew even worse, but instead of recoiling from that pain he only stared. How are you here? he asked himself, still unable to tear his gaze on what used to be the emp. The only person that stood there now was him¡ªthe scarred man. The one with the evil green eye and the closed one, gazing at him with a malicious grin. Vincenzo was going to kill him.


    Without a word he lunged for the scarred man, reaching for his throat with hate in his black eyes! His large hands squeezed and squeezed, hoping to wipe the smug smile off his ugly face and watch the tears start to fall, but the scarred man didn¡¯t seem to mind. Die, he thought, strangling him as hard as he could. Just die. Fucking die. Drooling with grit teeth, he kept on squeezing, but the scarred man kept on living. Why won¡¯t you just die? Vincenzo throttled him back and forth silently, before slowing to a stop¡­


    It was Cammo he was trying to kill. On the emp¡¯s face was his fetish, black and blank, and around him was his Glow. Vincenzo slowly pulled his hands away, stared at them, and saw that Cammo¡¯s neck was cracked, grey stone. Still, even though the emp was unharmed, he felt guilty.


    ¡°Why? Why didn¡¯t you fight back?¡± Vincenzo asked, his voice breaking slightly.


    Cammo didn''t say a word, only offering a handkerchief.


    ¡°What''s that for?¡±


    The heavy tears falling down his cheeks answered that question. He pulled away, taking the cloth along with him. In an instant Vincenzo cleaned his faced, blew his nose as snot had begun to run over his lip, and tossed the evidence, his once horrible headache subsiding into a dull thumping sensation. It wasn''t long until he looked like he always did.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Cammo asked, getting up fully now. The emp was the statue he always was, and somehow it was a little comforting.


    ¡°It was just a nightmare¡­ go back to bed,¡± Vincenzo explained, seeming more dead than alive.


    ¡°Usual occurrence?¡± the emp asked. He tossed more wood in the fire and it flared.


    ¡°No, no¡­ I stopped dreaming like that a while ago¡­¡± Vincenzo paid the bloody price to get rid of them, and they were gone for a time¡­ But now? He¡¯d gone through it again and felt like he was on the brink of something terrible, something he was utterly powerless against¡­ The guilt was even worse. Was it all for nothing? Was the peace he killed for a lie? Could a fall that far down kill me? he thought, glancing below. He guessed not.


    A frigid breeze passed and sent a shiver down Vincenzo¡¯s spine, but he did not want to get near the fire¡ªbeing near it brought too many bad memories. A small blanket landed on top of his head which he covered himself with immediately. It was a good enough shield against the wind, but he still felt cold.


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± Vincenzo said, keeping an eye over the edge.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Pains? Hallucinations? Things like that,¡± Cammo said. He opened up the same bottle of booze Vincenzo saw him drinking from earlier that day.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that important?¡±


    ¡°It may be the green light from earlier making you act like that.¡±


    He had almost forgotten about that. Gult, that son of a bitch¡­ ¡°Oh¡­ Well, you''re right on the money then. I had one hell of a headache and hallucinated someone else''s face on yours¡­¡± Vincenzo said. It¡¯s not my fault, he thought, glad. I¡¯m not crazy. I¡¯m not crazy. If it was magic that did it, he could deal with that. I¡¯m not crazy. Vincenzo got up and walked back to the fire.


    Cammo kept an understandable eye on him as he did, and asked, ¡°Hmm¡­ Anyone important?¡±


    ¡°No, I already killed him¡­¡± he said. ¡°I killed him, Cammo. He¡¯s dead as hell. I brutalized the motherfucker. Lo rifaei, Cammo. Lo rifaei.¡± Now he was angry. Whoever fucked with him was going to need to get fucked with back. But, for the immediate moment, he needed to get well. If the scarred man¡¯s face appeared on Plum¡­ He looked over to see her sleeping soundly, Cammo nearby. She was a heavy sleeper if he ever saw one. Looking back at Cammo, who had removed his fetish, he spoke: ¡°How do I get rid of it?¡±


    The emp gave him a small shrug¡ªthe most disheartening shrug that the Vincenzo had ever seen¡ªbefore taking a swig from the bottle in his hands, draining the thing after just seconds. Cammo let out a sigh the moment he was finished and tossed the bottle below, deciding to sit again. ¡°Clean your blood off,¡± Cammo ordered, stepping into his sleeping bag again. This time he pulled his daughter''s small body close. He fell asleep instantly just like his daughter earlier.


    That shrug was all he had.


    ¡°Fuck me¡­¡± Vincenzo whispered, running the canteen water over his face.


    He stopped when he heard something just over the fire¡¯s cracks and pops and strained to hear it in the dark¡ªit was a droning kind of noise, and he didn¡¯t recognize it as anything they had heard over their march. He looked around for a moment with a perplexed expression, before realizing it was coming from himself. ¡°Where the¡­?¡± he muttered, patting himself down. After a moment of searching, he finally felt a strange lump on a leather plate¡ªsomething was stitched beneath it. A bomb?! It was a modern kind of thought, but after what he¡¯d been through, he wouldn¡¯t have doubted it. Without wasting time, he grabbed Heavy Metal and turned the leather around the noise into a shotgun shell, letting a rectangular object fall between his legs. Vincenzo picked it up and examined it closely, feeling its flat shape vibrate in his hands. It lit his face in a dull purple light; he knew it as a phone. But how can a phone exist in a land of swords and shields? he thought. He then wondered about a much more important question: who the hell was calling? Vincenzo decided to find out and¡ªhaving already guessed it was a touch-screen¡ªpressed his right thumb against it. The drone stopped with an amusing pup-punk as he pressed the shimmering crystal against his ear.


    ¡°Talk,¡± Vincenzo said, barely hiding the bitterness in his tone.


    ¡°Are you the one that killed Gult?¡± a feminine voice asked. She sounded angrier than him! Vincenzo guessed the speaker couldn''t be very old, placing her age at around sixteen to twenty¡­ The same age Gult¡¯s little sister was supposed to be around. ¡°Yep,¡± Vincenzo muttered, his voice calmer. ¡°You''re his sister, then?¡±


    There was no answer for a moment, only a bitter silence¡­ And in this silence Vincenzo thought about one thing, and that one thing was the splitting headache that reemerged. He stood in silence gritting his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside¡­ It never did.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you soon¡­¡± the voice replied. The rage in it was palpable.


    ¡°That''s cool. Anyway, what kind of spell did you hit me with?¡± Vincenzo replied casually.


    There was indistinct chatter as the voice grew quiet, an action that told him there was someone else involved. He waited patiently as the caller conversed with her partner, idly rubbing the back of his head to feel the stubble.


    ¡°Its name is Mind¡¯s Tumor. You¡¯ll suffer headaches and hallucinations until you die. So kill yourself! Save us the trouble.¡±


    He didn''t pay any attention to her mindless request and walked further away from the camp. ¡°I¡¯m guessing whoever you were talking to is the wizard who cast it, right? You''re lucky it''s them or else I would have had to break my promise¡­¡±


    An angry grunt came out of whatever allowed the item to emit audio. ¡°You''re not killing anyone anymore. My name is Frey, and I¡¯ll be the one to end you!¡± Frey claimed. And went quiet.


    ¡°You know, Frey,¡± he said, smiling, ¡°you have a pretty voice.¡±


    Silence, then: ¡°See you soon. And good luck sleeping.¡±


    The call dropped with a tring, leaving him alone with just the moaning breeze to crash against him. ¡°More problems; love it.¡± he whispered bitterly.


    Destructive pain attacked his brain yet again. The shock of it almost sending his body over the edge as it hunched over in agony. The flash felt impossibly long, and his only clue that it hadn¡¯t been five minutes was the life of the fire. He stumbled back to his blanket, covering his head and body, and tried to fall asleep¡­


    But the pain was too much. Every attempt at rest resulted in a knife through his brain, bringing him back up to gasp and pant as sweat collected on his brow. Each attempt resulted in growing pain, which then resulted in exhaustion, which resulted in him trying to sleep, which resulted in more pain, and so on and so on. And Vincenzo hadn¡¯t slept for almost two days to begin with. ¡°Fuck¡­¡± he mumbled, laying his head back against the leaves. Something passed through the shadows in the corner of his eye¡­ He sat up turning his full attention to the passing figure. SPIDER, he thought, jolting upright while clutching his blanket. But it was nothing. You¡¯re getting paranoid, Vincenzo, a smarter part of himself pointed out. Keep your head straight. That was good advice and he decided to follow it.


    ¡°Good luck sleeping, my ass,¡± he whispered. ¡°I need to. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯ll go crazy.¡± And how could he do that? Every time he started to drift off, the headache grew worse, squeezing his brain the same way Igor squeezed his neck. He groaned quietly to himself and looked over to see Cammo had got back up. He¡¯ll know what to do.


    ¡°Problem?¡± the emp said, moving his daughter aside as he lazily strolled over.


    ¡°I got a call from Gult¡¯s sister, and she explained the spell to me,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Every time I try to sleep, the headaches¡­ they get worse, Cammo! And¡­ fuck! It¡¯s really starting to hurt bad. Worst headache in my entire life, for real¡­ And when I¡¯m awake hallucinations keep fucking with my head!¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± Cammo said. He let out his Glow. ¡°I have an idea.¡±


    7


    Cammo¡¯s small hop threw him right into Vincenzo¡¯s face. The moon-man didn''t even have to retaliate as his attacker''s hand slammed into the bottom of his chin! The bone and flesh broke apart from the impact, only growing back after Vincenzo fell unconscious and fell onto a bed of fallen leaves¡­ ¡°You can heal any wound, but you can''t regain consciousness if your brain hits your skull too much¡­ I hope.¡± Time proved him right. ¡°Get some sleep and just explain the rest in the morning,¡± Cammo said. The emp yawned, slipped back in his bag, and held his daughter close once more.

 The Strain

    1


    The gentle patter of rain collided against Vincenzo¡¯s bloody cheek, waking him. The dull thumping in his head was barely noticeable as he slammed his palms on the moist wood, using what little strength his newly awakened body provided to sit up. With an exhale he threw his back against the bark again, beating out the knot in his muscles. He slept well, slept deep, and he didn¡¯t dream. Suck on that you stupid bitch, he thought. We found ourselves a loophole. Immortality was paying off.


    ¡°Ah, you''re finally awake,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°Good morning! Uhm, you have some blood on your face¡­¡± Plum said, pointing at the left side of her own cheek for reference.


    Vincenzo wiped it away and sat up again. The two of emps sat underneath a modern-looking umbrella that managed to cover them both and then some, and they were having the breakfast¡ªorages again. His mouth grew sour at the thought, so he looked up. An ominous and suffocating cloud of grey loomed overhead, forcing everything below to adopt its lame coloring, raining down on them in a way that wasn¡¯t heavy or light. There was no umbrella over him, and he felt soaked.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Hey, Cammo, shouldn''t we talk about that thing in private?¡±


    Cammo looked up at him and then at his daughter, before finishing off the fruit in his hands and nodding. Plum looked puzzled. ¡°Why do you need to talk in private?¡± Plum asked, shoving another sour bite into her chubby cheeks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Come on, let''s talk and then we move,¡± Cammo said, pulling out a more appropriately sized umbrella for an emp. ¡°Come, come.¡±


    She scowled at the two as they walked away. Nearing the trunk of a humongous tree they turned their faces away from her. Vincenzo shared the details from the night before¡­


    ¡°Hmm¡­ How many people could you hear when they were talking?¡± Cammo asked, giving sideways glances at Plum. She was not happy with the secrecy.


    ¡°I think it was just two, with the other being responsible for the spell that¡¯s fucking me up¡­ I think so, at least.¡± It better have been. He promised not to kill Frey and only Frey.


    Cammo looked down at the ground in deep thought, casting the occasional upwards glance at moon-man in front of him. ¡°And you still feel its effect?¡±


    ¡°Yep, it''s a lot less severe¡­¡± Vincenzo answered, right before furrowing his eyebrows. ¡°I got a lot of rest after you punched my jaw off¡­¡±


    Cammo sighed, a small action that made Vincenzo¡¯s frown even more pronounced. ¡°That''s good. For a moment I thought it was more effective relative to their position. They¡¯re not close yet. So that¡¯s good. And don¡¯t complain if you get sleep. If you get sleep and that headache of yours is lessened, we¡¯re going to be okay. We have a major advantage here.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh¡­¡± When Cammo didn¡¯t elaborate, Vincenzo asked, ¡°Wanna explain?¡±


    ¡°You said the girl on the phone was young, right?¡± Cammo asked.


    Vincenzo gave a quick nod.


    ¡°How young?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you remember? Gult said she was seventeen,¡± Vincenzo said, wiping away the rain. It was really coming down.


    ¡°Damn¡­! If she¡¯s that old, then she should be able to use her Glow¡­ But on the bright side, we know that whoever her friend is most likely already used their spell on you. So their Glow would be the only way to defend themselves¡­¡± Cammo said, pausing a moment. ¡°Hopefully¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I''m just trying to figure out the match up¡­¡± Cammo said, closing his eyes in thought.


    ¡°That''s where we run into a problem,¡± Vincenzo said. The emp opened his red eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t hit a girl, and I also can¡¯t let you fight her¡­¡±


    ¡°Why''s that?¡±


    ¡°Because you''re the kind of person to kill her,¡± Vincenzo said.


    Cammo nodded, not even attempting a lie. ¡°But what''s the issue? If I killed her, your promise to Gult would still be upheld.¡±


    Vincenzo glared at him. ¡°I didn''t tell him yes because I wanted him to have peace of mind; I said it because I¡¯d do it. I don''t kill kids, and when I¡¯m traveling with you: you won''t, either.¡± He stopped glaring and grew calm. ¡°If you don''t comply¡­ You could win the battle, but I won''t fight with you anymore. And let''s see how well you do against the two freaks following behind without any help. Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know why you want us moving so quickly.


    ¡°We¡¯re being followed, aren¡¯t we? Those slugs have wings, Cammo, and you know as well as I that your wife and Plum¡¯s mother was buried¡ªshe wasn¡¯t burned. And Boon? You probably just left him there to rot¡­ How am I sounding? Does that sound right to you?¡± Vincenzo smiled. ¡°You need me. Plum needs me. Now make your choice.¡±


    Cammo looked frustrated for a moment, but only a moment. The emp reverted back to his monotone expression with a weary sigh. Vincenzo had him. The rain did well enough to hide Vincenzo¡¯s small outburst, but it was cold. Water seeped into the black cloth and fur nullifying its wind retardant effects, and he started to shiver.


    ¡°Are you cold over there?!¡± Plum yelled, forgetting her irritation.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I¡¯ll just put something new on before we leave!¡± Vincenzo yelled back.


    Plum nodded, satisfied, before remembering that she was angry, switching back to an indignant scowl.


    ¡°I¡¯ll decide the matchup. I fight Frey and you can kill the other. Now¡­¡± Vincenzo said, turning to Cammo, ¡°how do I beat a wizard with Heavy Metal without hurting her?¡± The gun was a lot of things: deadly, heavy, versatile, threatening¡ªnon-lethal wasn¡¯t one of them.


    ¡°Is that so necessary? Can¡¯t you just blow her head off and be done with it?¡±


    He wasn¡¯t kidding when he said he didn¡¯t care who got in his way. Everyone¡¯s fair game to him. ¡°Yes.¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Women are off-limits for me. And I keep my promises. You can do whatever you want to the other one.¡±


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± Cammo relented. He wasn¡¯t happy, but who cared? He just needed to get used to it. ¡°You want to beat her without hurting her?¡±


    Vincenzo nodded, wiping away the rain on his face again. ¡°How can I do that?¡±


    Cammo didn''t speak, he only stared at the blacks of Vincenzo¡¯s eyes, as if the answer could be found there. Vincenzo started to get creeped out, but after another half a minute, Cammo had a plan: ¡°Outlast her. Just like we did with Gult. You¡¯re immortal, don¡¯t forget¡­¡± The emp stoked his hair back behind his ears and sighed. ¡°But you also have to remember, Gult was defeated by you and me. And he was easily exhausted. But this girl, ''Frey¡¯, you don''t have a clue on what she can do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out¡­¡±


    ¡°Don''t forget Mind¡¯s Tumor either! If it fucks with you in the middle of a fight, you might as well jump into the abyss and get it over with quickly,¡± Cammo pointed out. ¡°When you have her worn out, I¡¯ll break her legs. Then she won''t be able to pursue us. We can leave her food, aid, heart-fruit extract, and firewood to survive. Agreed?¡±


    Vincenzo paused for a second. He didn¡¯t want her legs broken¡­ but what else could they do? ¡°Fine. If she¡¯ll live, then I¡¯m okay with it.¡±


    Lightning cast a blue glow over all, cracking across the grey sky! The rain grew heavier and the sky grew darker¡­


    ¡°The creatures from the abyss are going to travel up in this darkness¡­ We need to move,¡± Cammo said, looking up at the eerie clouds. ¡°Just make sure you win. If you don''t¡­ I will.¡±


    He walked back over to Plum who was still moderately pissed at the secrecy of the two. Cammo, like always, didn¡¯t seem to care much. Vincenzo took his bag and walked round the other side of the large tree and changed into dry clothes, using the large umbrella they planted in the wood he was able to keep it that way. Gult had packed a leather raincoat with a hood as well, which Vincenzo promptly equipped, keeping him dry even when not under an umbrella.


    They began to move again. Their pace was slowed to a hurried crawl to prevent a fatal slip into the unknown depths, depths that Cammo refused to elaborate on and said: ¡°If I tell you what¡¯s down there, you¡¯ll get nightmares. And seeing as how you don¡¯t like slimy things or spiders, I wouldn¡¯t pry.¡± Vincenzo¡¯s migraine grew only a negligible amount, but he realized how quickly that dull thump may snowball into something much greater. Plum¡¯s attitude had not changed. She wasn¡¯t happy with secrets.


    2


    Plum didn¡¯t like secrets at all.


    Why weren¡¯t they telling her everything? Why did Vincenzo want her to shut her eyes when they neared the edge of Summer? And what was that smell? The really foul one¡­


    It¡¯s hair, something in her mind claimed. Remember? You accidentally set your head on fire one time; it smelled like that. Just like that.


    She shook her head and the thought along with it. And so what if it was? What did you think he meant when he said, ¡°we will kill them all¡±? Obviously, they did it¡­ And they were right to do it. If they didn¡¯t, you¡¯d get eaten.


    But what aren¡¯t they telling you, then? the voice asked back.


    No matter how much she pleaded, they wouldn¡¯t budge. They¡¯d dodge the question, tell her it was fine, and eventually ignore her¡­ But what did it mean? She mulled this question over in her mind as they walked, unable to find a good answer herself. Eventually, her absent-minded strolling almost resulted in her small body plummeting into the darkness below, and she snapped back to reality. She¡¯d ponder later. For now, it was time to focus on putting her boots where they needed to go.


    More and more time passed until a faint buzzing grew closer and closer, like the sound of an insect magnified to deafening levels. A destructive thump shook the tree they stood on, and Plum let out a welp! The other two looked worried. The three steadied themselves, the ground steady after another second.


    ¡°What was that?!¡± Vincenzo asked, loading two wood shells into his fetish.


    ¡°An insect¡­ Just keep that at the ready,¡± Cammo answered, dropping his pack and unsheathing his sword.


    ¡°What should I do?¡± Plum asked, dropping her backpack as well.


    The two men shared a confused glance, and decided to ignore her, before Cammo came up with a plan: ¡°Go check it out. I¡¯ll stay here with her¡­¡±


    ¡°If it''s a giant spider I¡¯m going to cry¡­¡± Vincenzo said, grabbing a small pouch filled with shells.


    Vincenzo neared the thick wall of bark and started to wrap around; the rain was too powerful to allow any quiet conversation room to escape far. Plum sat down pulling her knees close and looked up at her cautious father. The wide sword he clung to in his right arm barely wavered as he surveyed the area.


    ¡°What are you hiding from me?¡± Plum asked suddenly.


    Cammo didn''t bother looking down to meet her gaze; it wasn''t even clear he had heard her until he broke the fragile quiet. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Why do you two have to talk in private? You told me that kings and nobles and everything like that ate wizards because they believed they¡¯d be magic if they did¡­ So I just assumed that¡¯s why people were after us¡­ And that Guerrieros eat us too. Is there any other reason? Because if there was, that would explain why you were so secretive about it¡­¡± Plum explained, burying her mouth into her knees. ¡°Are you hiding something from me?¡±


    Cammo sheathed his blade, crouched down to his daughter''s level, and placed a large (for an emp) hand on her shoulder. He held her tight out of necessity and his grip felt cold and distant, just like his endless lectures and apathetic gaze¡ªshe didn¡¯t like it, and she found that she didn¡¯t want him to touch her anymore. Even if it was just on the shoulder. ¡°Vincenzo got hit by a spell during the last battle. He just didn''t want you to know about it.¡±


    She forgot her discomfort. ¡°I-is he sick?¡± she asked, sitting up much straighter.


    ¡°No, no, no¡­ well, yes¡­¡± Cammo said. ¡°But it''s not like you think. His mutation lets us work around it, and all we have to do is take out the people responsible.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ when¡¯s that happening?¡±


    ¡°No idea, but now that he has his fetish: there should be no problem,¡± Cammo explained, standing up again. His hand went with him and she was relieved.


    ¡°I have one last question. If there was something to hide, would you tell me?¡± she questioned.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d tell you¡­¡±


    A BANG! exploded through the forest, repeating itself as it echoed through the pillars of wood. Vincenzo had fired.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± Cammo commanded.


    Plum complied, only staring as a dark green Glow covered him.


    3


    Another shot rang out, changing Cammo¡¯s hurried jog into a sprint. He ran up on the small bark walkway, reaching the other side in a third of the time it took Vincenzo, and saw what had happened. A giant insect that clung to the wide trunk greeted him. At eight feet in length and three in width, it didn''t fail to conjure up some fear, even in him¡­ Two patches of broken black armor fell into the abyss as its huge numerous legs broke into the bark, green liquid seeped out of the wounds and into the void, and its head was downcast and concealed in shadow. Not another movement came from it. It was dead.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Cammo stuck his wide metal back in the sheath just as his Glow dissipated. Vincenzo snapped the twin barrels open and removed the casings¡ªwhose ends seem more burnt than blasted¡ªand tossed them over the edge. Cammo looked at him with trace amounts of anger.


    ¡°Why¡¯d you shoot? That''s a beetle, they''re not aggressive,¡± Cammo said. ¡°Creepy, but not violent.¡±


    ¡°A spider crawled on it¡­ at least I thought one did¡­¡± the pale one answered, putting two more shells into the cylinders. He seemed dead too, dead behind the eyes.


    ¡°Are you lucid?¡± Cammo asked bluntly, wondering if the moon-man needed to ¡°slip¡± off the edge and into the darkness. It was a bad thought, he knew, but a necessary one if the moon-man couldn¡¯t get himself together. Cammo didn¡¯t need him firing at Plum in his insanity.


    The tall one didn''t respond, he only stared at the dead insect in fascination. ¡°Yeah. In fact, I feel better¡­¡± Vincenzo said, turning to him. ¡°We have a bit of relative peace, so I¡¯m going to go ahead and clear the path for you guys. Help clear my head¡­¡±


    Cammo nodded and turned to leave, only facing back at him to say one thing, ¡°Even if it''s an insect, wait until it attacks you. Don¡¯t go crazy on us.¡±


    Vincenzo gave him a small nod, turning away himself. The moon-man checked the pouches attached to his clothing, making sure he had what he needed. Cammo watched him go through his preparations, waiting for him to leave with a hand on the hilt of his sword. With that done Vincenzo pulled his leather hood over the growing stubble on his head and started to travel into the storm.


    Cammo walked back to his daughter and sat under the umbrella. ¡°He¡¯s fine. He¡¯s just going a little ahead of us to clear the way.¡± At least, I THINK he is¡­ If not¡­


    ¡°The shots?¡±


    ¡°Just an insect¡­ That fetish of his is destructive. It must cost quite a lot of mana to use,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°But he¡¯ll be fine, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he¡¯ll be fine. This will probably be a good chance to find his limits,¡± Cammo said, popping open a small bottle filled with fiery booze.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little early for that?¡± Plum asked, one eyebrow raised.


    Cammo¡¯s lips froze inches away from the glass, looking sideways at his daughter he put it down for a moment. ¡°Do you know what I did before I was six and found out I was a wizard?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I don''t know if you know this¡­ but you''re not the most open person. And that''s coming from me. I¡¯ve only met three people in my whole life, and I can still say that¡­'''' Plum said, taking an orage out and handing it to him.


    He declined. ¡°I was the son of a brewer. He was a quiet and awkward man, so it was a surprise to everyone when he got a passing woman pregnant. She, your grandmother, was most likely impressed by my father''s large stature¡ªwhich I inherited¡ªand took a fancy. She stayed by his side for nine months, but the two never married, and just a week after my birth, she left. Disappeared, vanished, and whatever have you¡­¡± Cammo said. He delivered the last remark as if he was talking about garbage stinking up the home. ¡°My father didn''t even know she was a wizard until years later, when I coughed up a fetish of my own. He was already quiet, so he easily kept it a secret for years¡­¡±


    ¡°Because if he didn''t, people would come to eat you?¡± Plum questioned, scooting closer in interest.


    ¡°Yes. It wasn''t until I was twenty-five that I went out into the world.¡± That was a lie. ¡°I was a monster-hunter originally, but after meeting a friend I changed careers.¡± Another lie. ¡°Then I met your mother, I left him for dead, and me and her escaped into this forest to raise you,¡± Cammo said, getting ready to take a swig.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Plum yelled, stopping the bottle from reaching parched lips. ¡°You didn''t explain why you could drink.¡±


    ¡°Because for the twelve years I raised you, I haven''t had a drop of alcohol and deserve a little¡­ That''s why,¡± Cammo explained, draining its contents before she could argue otherwise. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m not so stupid that I¡¯d get drunk in a place like this. We emps are small, Plum, but we can outdrink most of the other walking species of Overworld. Some can outdrink tousks, and those ¡®some¡¯ include me. Locine could hold a drink herself as well.¡±


    ¡°I miss her¡­¡± Plum mumbled, resting her chin atop her knees.


    Cammo¡¯s mood dropped, and the sky, which he looked to in times of sadness, was uncaring and grey. ¡°Me too.¡±


    Silence passed between the two as they reminisced about simpler times, but Cammo knew that those times were long gone. The Blood Moon had seen to that. Boon had seen to that¡­


    ¡°Are you sure he¡¯ll be safe? There are giant spiders around apparently¡­ If you aren''t trying to scare him, that is,¡± Plum asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he said, agitated by the insinuation. Did she distrust him that much? ¡°He¡¯ll be fine. As long as he doesn¡¯t run into a murder-fly, that is. But he¡¯d have to have some of the worst luck in the world for that¡­¡±


    4


    Vincenzo walked along wet bark with precision, keeping his eyes open, and his breath quiet. He could hear a faint buzzing below him¡­ He thought it was most likely some kind of fly or maybe even another beetle; in any case, that''s not why he really came out there. He pulled out the small rectangle that received last night''s threat and touched its crystal screen. Vibrant jagged colors popped into existence: green, red, yellow, purple, and others fit together like a jigsaw puzzle or the stained glass on a church window. He could call someone with this, namely, the enemy. But there wasn¡¯t a word on any part of it, just colors. The question was: who to call?


    Remembering that purple was the color that covered the screen when he got called, he decided to press it. Vincenzo held it against his ear as it began to drone¡­ The buzzing below grew a small bit louder as he did. Don¡¯t like that, he decided, but also decided that this was more important. Finally, after the droning was beginning to irritate his headache, someone answered.


    ¡°What?¡± Frey answered, angry and to the point. She seemed to know exactly who was calling. Or maybe she just answers every call that way, he thought with a grin.


    ¡°Hey, it''s that guy who killed your brother¡­ Anyway, I need Slogine¡¯s num¡ªcolor, or whatever the hell you call it,¡± Vincenzo said, taking a seat.


    There was silence on the other end.


    ¡°What the fuck do you think I¡¯m going to do? Blow his head off over the phone? Just tell me, I wanna talk to him.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Frey asked.


    God, she¡¯s like Cammo with that to-the-point attitude. He scratched the back of his head. ¡°Context. This whole ordeal with Plum, I want to understand it better.¡±


    ¡°You want to speak with him about it?¡± she said. There was a bit of confusion in her pretty voice and the anger from before was subdued.


    That was belief, he thought. ¡°Yeah. Your brother''s explanation was a little vague, especially after he lost most of his teeth¡­ It was just mumbling at that point. Mumbling and crying,¡± Vincenzo said nonchalantly, knowing that it would cut deep. He hoped it would cut deep. It needed to cut deep. ¡°And even after that¡­ he could barely string words together by the time I was done with him.¡±


    A sharp inhale could be heard from the other side, barely carrying itself over the rain. He couldn¡¯t tell whether it was one of pain or one of anger, ultimately coming to the conclusion that it was both.


    Right on the money, he thought calmly. ¡°I was hoping your friend would be better at explaining¡­¡±


    ¡°How can you even function?! The spell should have eaten away at your sanity!¡± Frey screamed, notes of a newfound worry coating her voice.


    Definitely right on the money. He was already in her head. ¡°Found a loophole. So don''t count on it too much when we meet¡­ Now what¡¯s his color?¡±


    ¡°Red.¡±


    Then the call dropped, leaving him with only the sound of the pattering rain and the buzzing beneath¡ªthat sound really was fucking with his nerves. Vincenzo took a deep breath and hovered his finger over the red puzzle piece¡­ But removed his finger when he realized how close the buzzing was; it was just below him now. It was similar to the sound of a lawnmower, a loud repetitive scream that never failed to disturb. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he whispered, watching something rise over the edge. ¡°Oh merde.¡±


    A giant fly-thing hovered above the abyss, facing him with an instantly recognizable animosity. One horn grew from between its dull-red segmented eyes, narrowing to a blade, its wings flapping too fast to properly see. It was the buzz. Its solid black carapace was interrupted only by the skull pattern on its thorax, and it drooled an unhealthy amount of green sludge between sharp mandibles. The fly might have only been the size of Vincenzo¡¯s torso, but it had the presence of something twice that size. It felt dangerous, deep in his core.


    Vincenzo wordlessly moved the phone back into his pocket, before moving that same hand back to the trigger of his gun. He took aim at the hovering foe, making sure his sights were on target, and fired!


    It darted to the left just as he pulled the trigger, forcing pellets into the distance it made its move. Vincenzo fired again, growing worried as it darted again, dodging another blast. ¡°Son of a¡ª!¡± he screamed, just as the insect flew through him with a lowered horn. It went through him like a knife.


    It took a moment for him to realize how much damage had been done in that fly-by; the beast had cleaved his shoulder so deeply that his entire left arm began to droop. It stuck back together immediately, but just as he readied two more shots the beast came again. Vincenzo threw his body near the edge narrowly avoiding its now bloody blade, but almost fell into the black as a consequence of his dodge. He loaded two more wooden shells as it flew behind trees too fast for anyone to anticipate. Not your average forest, he remembered bitterly. Not one bit.


    It charged again as another shotgun blast ripped through the air. Its maneuverability helped it to dodge, before charging straight for him again. Vincenzo suddenly became very glad that it was a bug he was dealing with.


    He aimed the barrel as if to fire, and just as he thought, the bug kept its speed, only ten feet away. Vincenzo still waited¡­ and fired! A thunderous blast collided with the soft gelatin of its eyes, just as it sliced through the top of Vincenzo¡¯s skull, exposing his brain¡ªhe went cross-eyed.


    With that and a high-pitched screech it fell back into the abyss, its scream growing quieter and quieter as it plummeted.


    His wound closed quickly, first with the missing chunk of the brain, then the skull to protect it, and the skin to cover it¡ªall in a matter of seconds. He let out a small sigh in relief as the thumping headache¡ªnot due to the insect''s attacks¡ªdulled. Even if he wanted to finish it off, the bug was gone.


    But this small encounter had already left him particularly drained, beads of sweat traveled¡ªalong with the rain¡ªoff his body and into moist wood. He sat down and caught his breath, wondering if all the insects beneath were like that¡­ At the very least, he was finally able to tell the difference between physical and magical exhaustion. It wasn''t like Cammo was going to give him any pointers, after all. He guessed that his mana reserves were running about twenty percent empty, and also remembered that he only fired around four shots¡­ He guessed that Heavy Metal was a pretty expensive thing. But there was still work to be done, experiments to be conducted.


    5


    Pulling out a small dagger, he pressed it against his throat, and with one quick slice an unhealthy¡ªit being unhealthy to bleed at all¡ªamount of blood poured out onto the wood. The wound closed almost immediately as he willed it. His reserve of mana dropped only a small amount even though the slash was severe. Vincenzo had learned to tell how much he had in the tank. There we go, he thought. Little by little. Healing itself wasn''t very expensive. All in all, he guessed that he (at most) had twenty-five shots in him. And his immortality? I can grow maybe three bodies back, if I lose my head. The brain seemed to take a bit more mana to fix as well, so that was something to take in consideration. Still, three bodies and twenty-five shots, he felt, was nothing to scoff at. Vincenzo felt a little bit better knowing what he could do.


    The hood did nothing for him anymore after the fly, so he pulled it off, leaving him exposed to the elements. At least the rain helps wash off the blood¡­ He washed his face with the falling rainwater and took a drink of his canteen, snacking on an orage for mana after. Back to it, he thought. Pulling out the crystal rectangle again, he pushed on the red icon. The call was picked up not long after.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna beat you to the punch and admit to killing Gult.¡±


    There was no response, only shallow breathing and a couple wet coughs.


    ¡°I just wanted to know a little about why we¡¯re fighting, and I thought you might be able to help me with that. I won¡¯t change my mind, but it can¡¯t hurt to at least talk about it¡­¡± If it really was Slogine on the other end, whoever he was, he sounded sick as fuck, Vincenzo thought. Gult wasn¡¯t kidding.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care to explain anything to you. If Cammo wants you in the dark, then I won''t object to it. The only thing I care about is Gult,¡± Slogine said, calm.


    ¡°So, you want to know how he died is what you''re saying.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll tell you if you give me some information. A little deal,¡± Vincenzo said coolly. ¡°I actually want to know about this disease you have. Cammo gave Plum a little vial of some kind of extract and it managed to heal her up, yet her mother was weakened by some kind of disease¡­ One that affected the lungs. What''s the deal there?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even agree to conversing with you, and you already demanded something of me¡­ How do I know you¡¯d even keep your promise?¡± Slogine asked. His voice was strange. It was inhuman but not animalistic, polite yet unnerving, and not at all uncanny. If anything, even with the cough and a wet sound coming from the back of his throat, Vincenzo thought he sounded smooth.


    The rain started to slow into a faint drizzle. Storms passing, he noticed. ¡°Because I thought he was pretty cool,¡± Vincenzo answered. The rain finally stopped. ¡°Just because I killed him, doesn''t mean I have to hate him. It was a straight fight between them and us, and we just happened to win. That¡¯s all it was. Hard feeling don¡¯t need to be involved.¡±


    There was a strange moment of silence between the two. It was uncomfortable and comfortable in a way that Vincenzo couldn¡¯t place, and he couldn¡¯t decide whether he liked it or not. Slogine ended it by asking, ¡°You want to know what exactly this disease is, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Well, it affects the lungs and physically drains the victim of their stamina until they eventually die from exhaustion, or blood fills the lungs and drowns them. It''s incurable and can only be slowed down by certain herbs and medicines. That''s why Locine was weak. Wait¡­¡± It seemed like the stranger remembered something. ¡°Didn¡¯t she die from the disease?¡±


    ¡°Nope, a moon-man got her,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Not me, obviously¡­ Cammo would¡¯ve killed me if I did it, and I¡¯m not the kind of guy to do that kind of thing.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­ So back to my question: you want to know what kind of disease it is?¡±


    ¡°That''s what I¡¯m curious about. Gult had a journal explaining how long the journey was, meaning you must''ve been pretty far out to begin with. How does an illness travel from one side of the world to the other? To an isolated segment of the world, at that. Something like that just isn''t possible,¡± Vincenzo said. Not without magic. That stupid shit can do anything. It was that thought that brought his questioning on.


    ¡°Not possible for a regular disease¡­ but this was manufactured,¡± Slogine said, his cool mannerisms slowly disappearing.


    ¡°Manufactured?¡±


    ¡°Yes, manufactured,¡± repeated Slogine. ¡°I wouldn''t have made this journey or dealt with the Guerrieros if it was just a natural disease. It''s because it''s manufactured that I did.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that? What''s the difference?¡±


    ¡°A natural disease is just the way the world functions. There isn''t any malice behind its existence. It just is,¡± Slogine explained. ¡°A manufactured disease is different and without a doubt must be destroyed at any cost.¡±


    ¡°Then why not go after the people who created it?¡±


    ¡°Because it''s most likely the Guerrieros who are responsible,¡± Slogine said, sounding his angriest. The moon-man on the other end let out a deep breath¡ªcollecting himself, Vincenzo guessed¡ªand sounded smooth again. ¡°I have people I don¡¯t want to lose. Pursuing the ones responsible would get me and them killed. The only choice left is obvious. I took the deal. A child for a cure. It could have been any child. And this is the one I chose.¡±


    Vincenzo got pissed. ¡°Oh yeah? Only choice?¡± he asked, sounding just as carefree as he did before. ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you here you fucking bitch?¡±


    ¡°When I first told them that I¡¯d get them a child, they gave me something¡­ Something that I can¡¯t give away and will disappear back into nothing upon my death. I can¡¯t die yet. If I do, then it would take too long to deliver her,¡± he explained, mimicking Vincenzo¡¯s fake apathy. ¡°Now what do you have to say about Gult.¡±


    The pale teenager clicked his tongue. ¡°Fine, if that''s all you''re sharing, then I¡¯ll give you my opinion on him,¡± Vincenzo replied. ¡°I was a ¡®soldier.¡¯ That''s what I did for money and pleasure. So believe me when I say I¡¯ve met a lot of people seconds away from death. Each one of them would beg for their lives over and over, so when it came to dash their hopes they were piss scared. When I had Gult under the heel of my boot do you know what I¡¯d think he¡¯d do? That''s right, beg for his life. But you know what he did? He begged for Frey¡¯s instead. And when I said I would, do you know what he did? Instead of crying because of his soon to be death, he cried tears of fucking joy! I was impressed. If you want to know my opinion, bastard, I was impressed. Gult died tough. And Gult had grit.¡±


    Slogine didn¡¯t respond. The breeze managed to send a chill down Vincenzo¡¯s spine. Light began to reenter the forest, orange and gold. ¡°Do you truly intend to keep that promise?¡± Slogine asked finally, his voice somber.


    ¡°Yes. Frey, and only Frey will live,¡± Vincenzo promised. ¡°Anyone else is fair game.¡±


    ¡°Then know this. They are going to defeat you and save everyone from dying slow, painful, pointless deaths,¡± Slogine said. ¡°They¡¯ve beaten worse than the likes of you.¡±


    Slogine dropped the call before Vincenzo could offer a rebuttal. ¡°That''s that¡­¡± Vincenzo muttered, dropping the device back in his pocket. ¡°What did I learn from that call? Nothing. Nothing I already didn''t know. Nothing that will change my mind¡­¡±


    But he did learn something. He learned that the, maybe only, reason they were killing each other in the middle of nowhere was connected to him. His father was fucking shit up for everyone, and Vincenzo felt responsible. I thought I was done with paying for someone else''s crimes, he groaned inside. The more things change¡ªand a lot has¡ªthe more they stay the same, huh?


    Yes, and he didn¡¯t like it.


    He walked back along the branches, tossing occasional glances into the abyss below, wondering what other creatures laid so far down. He never wanted to know.


    6


    Vincenzo gave a weary wave as he approached the others, basking in the light of sun. He was cold and the wind bit at him, but by God, the rays of light squeezing through the net of leaves above felt like heaven on his face. It was refreshing. His headache was faint.


    ¡°There was shooting!¡± Plum said, jumping up to greet him. She was refreshing too.


    ¡°Yeah, some white-skull fly-thing attacked me¡­ I¡¯m fine though, as you can see,¡± Vincenzo said, giving her a confident smile. ¡°Clothes a little messed up, but it¡¯s fine. I got more.¡±


    ¡°Be glad you lived. People usually die when in contact with those things¡­¡± Cammo interjected, rising up himself. ¡°Now, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let''s get moving,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I¡¯m getting antsy sticking in one place like this.¡±

 Hot Chocolate

    1


    Frey and Buta finally entered the forest of Fall. Unloading their bags with exhausted sighs, they sat to take in a not-so-warm sun, feeling warmer only by comparing the cold from Winter before. Forty degrees was warmer than zero. Frey made sure to dent the wood in such a way that her giant club would not roll off the edge, just before the two slammed their heavy winter outfits against the bark to knock off the snow that caked them. Buta kneeled down and started to create a campfire.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Frey asked. The pink-skinned avilop was rummaging through her bag, searching for something to eat.


    ¡°Making a fire,¡± Buta said, striking flint and steel on a small kindling.


    ¡°But we need to go. We can¡¯t just wait around here,¡± she said, pulling out a small red fruit to snack on. She donned a long and thick white mantle to protect herself from the wind, and stretched her pink wings apart through slits in its back, letting the cool Fall air hit them.


    ¡°I know how you feel but you can''t deny our exhaustion,¡± Buta said, blowing lightly on the cinders until the pile began to catch. ¡°I mean, look at your clock.¡± The simple clock above Frey¡¯s head had stopped worryingly close to growing orange, its face green only for the moment. ¡°Let''s rest. They have to come to us anyway.¡±


    Frey looked like she was ready to argue but quickly held her breath; she was tired. Tired from the hours spent trekking through blizzards and deep snow, and tired from carrying Buta and everything as she flew over the plains on a calm day. She let out a long yawn, stretching her eight-foot wingspan far to either side. She sat down and removed the uncomfortable boots she was required to wear in deep snow and brought out a small pillow that she rested her head on. She closed her emerald eyes and began to nap.


    Buta stuck her hand out to brush some errant strands of hair from her face only for Frey to bat them away. ¡°I¡¯m not a child anymore¡­¡± Frey mumbled, turning over for what little privacy that allowed. Buta should have felt some semblance of sadness at her objection, but instead she grew a small smile. The sniveling little child she first met all those years ago was growing up¡­ But felt a sadness deep within herself when she remembered the cause for this sudden and extreme growth. The boy that had brought her to them, that same headstrong boy who grew up into a fine young man himself, was gone.


    She knelt down and planted a motherly peck on Frey¡¯s cheek, then took out her own items to sleep. Buta laid down next to her daughter and looked up through the cracks of the ceiling of leaves above, letting crisp pieces of gold and brown float down from high on their tired bodies¡­


    They made great time¡ªamazing time. But whether that time was well spent would be decided in just days. Buta closed her eyes and fell asleep.


    2


    Vincenzo, Plum, and Cammo walked along the branches with little opposition, only stopping for the occasional drink and snack, filling their canteens at small waterfalls flowing from the trees¡¯ great heights. They continued like this for another week, growing accustomed to the bite in the air. They actually started to like it. Vincenzo loved it. The sun didn¡¯t beat on him and after his encounter with the fly, nothing else came to greet them. So when Cammo said that they should be close to the end of Fall, the two couldn¡¯t help but feel down. But then the girl remembered the ocean and cheered up. She reminded Vincenzo of his promise and hurried him along with gusto, hurrying them from the moment they woke with half-open eyes and groans of exhaustion, until the orange hue of a coming night.


    ¡°Looks like it''s getting late¡­¡± Plum said.


    Rays of the setting sun came through the interlocked web of branches above them in sporadic beams, bouncing off the falling leaves as the rest of the forest around them darkened. Vincenzo loved just being in the presence of it, feeling more at peace than he ever had back in Italy. In front of him was beauty he would¡¯ve never imagined before. He didn¡¯t know what it was; maybe it was the shape of the clouds, maybe it was because it rained a day prior, maybe it was the temperature. Whatever it was, it was making the sunset a dream.


    But a pretty sunset wasn¡¯t going to uncurse him. Vincenzo had the starting¡¯s of a headache. Every night, Cammo put him to ¡°sleep¡±, and that ¡°sleep¡± granted him a next-day hike of relative peace, and the start of the next night it would grow again. But, curiously enough, he hadn¡¯t had a single hallucination despite their warnings, and he had no idea why. The damn things had been there even after Cammo punched his jaw off, his headache never left, and the emp told him that the curse wouldn¡¯t lift until the caster was dead. So why was he sane? The spider on the beetle was the last figment he saw before moving on from it altogether. Should he worry about it? It was a silly question but one he had to ask nevertheless, and one he knew the answer to. If he had to ask himself: the answer was yes. Something fucked was going on, but he didn¡¯t know what.


    ¡°Papa,¡± Plum said, turning to her father with a grin. ¡°Knock, knock!¡±


    Cammo rolled his eyes (a little hard to decipher when the eye is one solid color). ¡°What?¡± he said.


    She pouted in such a way that no one in the world would be able to refuse her¡ªVincenzo included.


    He decided to continue in the emp¡¯s place: ¡°Fine¡­ Who''s there?¡±


    ¡°Water!¡±


    ¡°Water who?¡±


    ¡°Water you waiting for! Answer the door!¡± she laughed, having to stop for a moment as innocent giggles escaped her.


    Both Vincenzo and Cammo exchanged short glances of pure indifference. She looked at Cammo, who kept his expression, and switched over to Vincenzo, who feigned a small amount of joy.


    ¡°Did I do it right?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I didn''t know you knew knock-knock jokes. And that was pretty¡­ good,¡± Vincenzo answered.


    Her smile grew even wider with pride. Vincenzo looked at her French braid and spotted multiple frayed hairs¡­


    ¡°Do you want me to redo your braid?¡±


    ¡°Uh huh! I was meaning to ask but didn¡¯t want to seem rude. Do you know any other styles?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, have anything in mind?¡±


    She tossed a small, observant glance towards her father. ¡°Do you know what Berminalitays style is?¡±


    Her father began to stare at her sideways as they walked.


    ¡°I have to say I don¡¯t,¡± Vincenzo said. He didn''t even know how to pronounce it.


    ¡°It''s when you braid two tails facing outwards on the back of your head. Then you curl them up and tie them together in the middle,¡± she explained.


    Cammo turned his attention back onto the path ahead.


    What¡¯s up with them? he thought. There was something going on underneath the surface, but he couldn¡¯t tell what. ¡°That sounds complicated¡­¡±


    Plum turned around with a sad and disappointed look on her face.


    ¡°But I¡¯ll try my best,¡± Vincenzo smiled, patting her lightly on the back; a maneuver that needed him to crouch a fair deal. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can manage it.¡±


    She smiled wider than he¡¯d ever seen her smile before, and they went on for a little while longer. It wasn¡¯t quite night yet.


    ¡°Hey, Vincenzo?¡± Plum said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Why are you a moon-man? Papa explained what it means to be one¡­ but with the way you treat me makes me think you''re not that kind of person.¡± In her voice was the hope that she was right and her father was wrong, but she knew the answer.


    He knew she knew the answer. Vincenzo¡¯s small grin faded away as he followed closely behind. Cammo barely paid the conversation any mind, at least as far as Vincenzo could tell. ¡°Cammo, you said it was a sacrifice, right? Not outright murder?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the two may be similar, but they are different,¡± Cammo muttered.


    Vincenzo turned his attention back to the child who was now tossing curious glances back at him. ¡°I killed someone I loved,¡± Vincenzo casually admitted.


    They turned to look at him; Plum was in shock but Cammo, like always, wore a mask of stoicism. He let them both drink in the look on his face, wiped said look off his face, and then continued on without another word.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°W-why would you tell me that?¡± she asked, her voice breaking slightly.


    ¡°You already knew, didn¡¯t you? I mean, he had to have told you how I got here¡­¡± He looked over his shoulder at her.


    ¡°Well yes, but¡­ Why did you have to say it!¡± she yelled, becoming angrier and teary eyed.


    The fact that she knew the whole time set off a fuse in him. Why the hell did she bother getting close, then? Why the hell did she put herself in danger? The bomb was him. ¡°You''re too naive!¡± Vincenzo exploded, facing his massive body back to her. ¡°How long did you know about it? How long did you know what it took?!¡±


    As he grew closer and more imposing, Plum began to shrink back. Her once resistant expression faded away as tears began to stream down her face. Cammo only stood by, passive to the situation with crossed arms.


    ¡°I knew it before you even saved me!¡± she cried. And it was a cry, as she had burst into tears. ¡°I knew it since I was six!¡±


    Vincenzo looked at her in anger for a moment before regret replaced it. She was too young to scream at like he was doing, and too blameless. The blame was his. He never should¡¯ve gotten close. Now look at what you¡¯ve done, he thought. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Plum¡­ But you shouldn''t trust people so easily¡­ you''ll die like that. You shouldn¡¯t trust me¡­ In fact, you shouldn¡¯t even get close.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re you gonna do? Kill me?¡± she said, looking up at him with more betrayal than outright anger. It was more of a challenge than a question.


    ¡°No!¡± he said. ¡°Why would I do that? I¡¯d never do that.¡±


    ¡°Then why shouldn''t I trust you? Why is it so important?¡± Plum asked, trying her best to wipe away the tears. ¡°Why are you pushing me away?¡±


    A good liar knew when to tell the truth. ¡°Because I¡¯m not a good person, Plum. I¡¯m not,¡± he said, wiping the tears off her face with his thumb. ¡°I never was, and I never will be. And there¡¯s nothing anyone could do about it, okay?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that''s true¡­¡± she argued, sniffling a bit. The worst of her crying was over.


    ¡°It''s not about what you think¡­ It¡¯s not about what anyone thinks¡­ It''s what I know,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I yelled at you¡­ I don¡¯t like to think about it; when I do, it gets me angry.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay¡­ as long as you apologized¡­¡± Plum said. She wiped away the final tear with her pink sleeve. ¡°I forgive you. Because I think you¡¯re good, Vincenzo.¡±


    There was no use arguing with her, he thought. She¡¯d learn to hate him the same time she¡¯d learn that it was his father that was hunting them. And even if she still liked him, then, his betrayal would seal the deal. Vincenzo wasn¡¯t going to see one ocean or any ocean with her. He was sure of it. After she was safe, he¡¯d find a good place to die and something to die for¡ªjust like on Earth. That¡¯s all he was really looking for in the end. ¡°Come on, let''s get as far as we can before the sun sets completely¡­.¡±


    3


    They continued like that for a while, but as they walked Plum lagged behind¡­ She watched her large friend carry his heavy pack along without complaint, her mind bouncing ideas against the inside of her skull, trying her best to figure out what the pale, black-eyed giant was all about. But one thing was clear: she loved him. She loved him the same way she loved her mother. And in many ways, the moon-man reminded Plum of Locine. Whatever reasons he had to do it, I¡¯m sure he had good ones, she thought, remembering his abrupt confession. Vincenzo isn¡¯t a bad man. I know it. It was true in the only place that really mattered, in her heart. He wouldn¡¯t change her mind. A bad man would have never risked his life to save hers. She eventually caught up with them, keeping their pace with a faint smile on her lips, and just for a bit, she forgot about their secrets.


    4


    Night came without trouble.


    The camp had been made just before the last rays of an orange sun disappeared, and Vincenzo was glad for that. The fire that Cammo constructed crackled, and they basked in its comforting warm glow, feeling safe and comfortable within its range. It was a cold night, much colder than any of the nights prior. Each of them huddled in their own blankets, hiding their hands and faces from the frigid air as if it were poison. Their comfort wasn''t helped by the howling wind that replaced the slightly mischievous breeze the day brought on, sounding eerie as hell. Vincenzo knew that it was just one of those haunting noises that nature produced, like a barn owl¡¯s screech, the cry of a crow, or the howl of wolves¡ªbut that didn¡¯t make it any less unnerving. He was still a city-boy at heart, he assumed, even if he¡¯d grown much more accustomed to traveling and living in the rough. At least that bag stopped being so heavy, he thought idly. His soreness after a long day''s trek had weakened too. He was probably just getting used to it, he thought¡­ Or had he just gotten stronger? The scream of the night made him remember how bloody cold a Fall night could be and pulled the thick blanket tighter. He could think another day. It was too cold to think.


    It was dark as well. Anything out of the fire''s immediate glow was an impenetrable black wall as the two moons hid from sight among the trees'' tight crown¡­ This was one of the moments he remembered his fear of the dark, and he eyed it suspiciously within the grace of the campfire.


    Plum seemed to share the feeling. Despite the natural night vision her giant red eyes gave her, she couldn¡¯t see a thing beyond the flame; it interfered with her ability to adjust her eyes to the black, she said. She scooted her small body over to Vincenzo, joining him under his comparatively large blanket. Feeling both strange and natural he wrapped an arm around her, and to his surprise she didn¡¯t cringe away. Instead, she only rested her head on his big body, her shivering coming to a stop.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want me to get close?¡± she mumbled, keeping her heavy eyes on the fire.


    ¡°I guess there''s no stopping you¡­ Well, there is one way¡­ But that¡¯d entail violence, and I¡¯m not doing that. And you don¡¯t seem to listen to reason either. So, this is all I can do¡­¡± he relented, looking into the flame. He didn¡¯t like fire, but he also couldn¡¯t deny how captivating the thing was, especially when you relied on it. Fire killed him, but without it he¡¯d be as good as dead. How ironic, he thought. He looked down at the emp and told another lie: ¡°If you can¡¯t beat ¡®em, join ¡®em.¡±


    It was small and quiet moments like this that he really seemed to become aware of his surroundings. Vincenzo became aware of more than just that actually. The days of journey melted together in his head, each day almost identical to the last: wake up, eat breakfast, walk for a bit, lunch, walk for a while, set up camp, dinner, sleep. But there was also something deeply rewarding about the whole ordeal, how each day chipped away at their ultimate goal. He guessed that was why he didn¡¯t dread waking up every morning, or find it difficult to get out of bed, or hate the coming day.


    ¡°Mama always said I was stubborn like that,¡± she mumbled, her eyelids falling.


    The wind restated its superiority with a howl that overcame the flame, quieting the child and any other chance of conversation. The moon-man¡¯s incessant headache dulled, making him wonder if a natural (not getting jaw punched off, he was getting tired of that) sleep possible. But even if it was, would he have nightmares? If that was the case, he¡¯d let Cammo do his work any day.


    Cammo of all people finally broke the peace by rummaging through the pockets of Vincenzo¡¯s pack, pulling out three small tin mugs. Plum, who had almost begun to slumber, and Vincenzo, who was enamored by the flame, both raised their tired heads in curiosity. Next the skinny man pulled out a small leather pouch filled with brown powder and his canteen full of water, and combined them in a covered saucepan.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Plum finally asked.


    He moved it over the raging flame, heating it quickly, using a small wooden soup ladle to stir it. ¡°I was saving this for the cold nights up ahead, but no hurt¡¯ll come from a little bit now¡­ Just a minute. Maybe two.¡±


    Two minutes passed and he poured three mugs before handing them out. Vincenzo leaned in to take a small sniff, pulling the rim up to his mouth. ¡°It''s¡­ hot chocolate?¡±


    Plum followed suit, dragging the tin to her mouth and taking a small sip. ¡°It¡¯s delicious!¡± she said, just before taking large gulps. ¡°It¡¯s amazing!¡±


    ¡°Holy crap!¡± Vincenzo shouted, chugging it down as well. ¡°Where is this from? Cocoa beans are found on Earth, how did it get here?¡±


    Cammo gently sipped the chocolate gold and favored him with a satisfied, yet small, smile. ¡°I didn''t even know that¡­¡± Cammo muttered, removing the tin from his lips. ¡°It isn''t that out of place however, as spells and the like can bring such things into existence. A moon-man might have decided he wanted this plant, made this plant using a spell, and somewhere along the line it was cultivated, or a seed fell and started to grow naturally. A lot of the plants and animals of Overworld have such an origin. Just as the many plants and animals can trace their origins from Craters.¡±


    ¡°That explains a lot actually¡­¡± Vincenzo said, taking another small sip.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡± Plum asked. She held out her mug as if asking for seconds. Cammo obliged, pouring her another cup.


    ¡°I noticed a lot of things that were similar to where I came from,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Like the charcoal toothpaste we brush our teeth with, or your vocabulary, and some of your other tools; it just means the other moon-men had some kind of effect on you guys.¡±


    ¡°I don''t get it. If you moon-men are so powerful, then why isn''t it more obvious?¡± Plum questioned. ¡°Why aren''t you guys the ultimate leaders of the world?¡±


    ¡°One: how would I even know? I just got here. Two: how would you even know if moon-men weren¡¯t on top? For all me and you know, the entire world could be under their command. So ask that guy,¡± Vincenzo explained, pointing to Cammo on his last sentence.


    ¡°Moon-men in control¡­¡± Cammo said. The emp finished his cup before refilling it again. ¡°Very few moon-men really survive the first month. They always pop out near areas with high concentrations of mana, and wizards usually hang out in populated areas when the time comes. So, between that, starvation, poisonous fruits and vegetables, monsters, wildlife, the elements, and just being murdered by townspeople, very little make it. The time between the Blood Moon¡¯s awakening is too long as well. Can''t take over the entire world without soldiers. The Guerrieros are the only ones who¡¯ve done that.¡±


    ¡°You chose to say ¡®entire¡¯ instead of something else,¡± Vincenzo commented. The drink warmed him to the core, but, God, he could do with a shot of espresso or even a cup of coffee. He doubted Cammo had any of that, though.


    ¡°Well of course. Just because there are not very many doesn¡¯t mean they have no presence¡­ Some rule nations, lands, and groups of warriors if they grow in power enough¡­¡± Cammo said. The emp finished his second cup in a long chug. ¡°Overworld is a big place.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah! Before I forget, can you braid my hair now?¡± Plum asked, looking up at Vincenzo.


    Vincenzo placed the tin at his side. ¡°Wouldn''t you want that done in the morning?¡±


    ¡°It needs to be done before sleeping,¡± Plum said. ¡°Please?¡±


    Vincenzo shrugged and started to brush her hair, removing any knots and straightening out the rest. He thought of what she meant by it needing to be done before sleep, but he then decided he didn''t really care. She wanted it done before sleep; she¡¯d get it done before sleep.


    ¡°Just a second ago we were all ready to turn in,¡± Cammo pointed out. ¡°Are you sure you''re not tired?¡±


    Cammo glanced up at Vincenzo while silently clutching the back of his own head to remind the Italian of his much needed (almost deadly) sleep-aid. Vincenzo decided that he might as well be safe about it and take the beating. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep later.¡±


    ¡°Me too! That chocolate was pretty good,¡± Plum said.


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Cammo said.


    Silence began to grow between them as Vincenzo finally started to brush her hair. ¡°Hey, how about a story?¡± Plum asked, facing her father. ¡°We have time to kill.¡±


    Cammo grew a subtle smile. ¡°A story, eh?¡± he said, sitting a little straighter. ¡°Have I ever told you about how I met your mother?¡±


    Plum shook her head. ¡°You never told me any stories. Mama did. But she never explained how you met.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m going to tell it,¡± he said, ¡°but neither of you ask me about Slogine or how I met him. If you do, then I¡¯ll shut my lips tight and you¡¯ll never hear that story again, understand?¡±


    They both nodded.


    ¡°Then listen close¡­¡±

 Snakes, Swords, and Something Worse

    1


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Slogine muttered, tipping down his wide-brimmed hat to shield his eyes from the sun. ¡°These plains go one forever.¡±


    It almost looked like they did. The dull, green pastures rolled on for miles, only ending at the line of mountains jutting out from the earth far in the distance¡ªtheir destination. A couple farmhouses and trees dotted the landscape just before the cyclopean mass of rock that bid entrance to visitors of the castle, and they didn¡¯t make the place look any more inviting. Cammo looked over at the moon-man with a raised brow.


    ¡°And whose fault is that?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s not mine. I¡¯m not the one who looked at a map and said, ¡®We¡¯ll just cut through this empty section of land here! I know that it seems like a long way but I guarantee it¡¯ll go quicker since we can turn our brains off on the way, we won¡¯t even notice it!¡¯ It wasn¡¯t me who said that.¡±


    Unlike Cammo, Slogine¡¯s genitalia wasn¡¯t something that just flopped about, he only needed to wear a long shirt to cover himself. Even then, the moon-man would¡¯ve been fine without the apparel, only putting it on to make others feel just a little more comfortable in his uncomfortable presence. The wide black hat on his head was the only piece he found had any real use, protecting his eyes from the sun¡¯s stinging rays. He tipped it up to look at his comrade, careful not to let an errant gust of wind carry his only protection from the bright ball of heat away. ¡°Did I really say that?¡±


    ¡°You guaranteed it,¡± Cammo stated, staring far into the distance. ¡°I can¡¯t believe this¡­ Invitations¡­ Us!¡±


    Slogine grabbed the papers in his pack with his long, flexible arms and fingers and pulled out two letters, already opened. ¡°Neither can I¡­ but these look legitimate enough.¡±


    ¡°Legitimate doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not a trap,¡± Cammo said roughly, holding out his hand for his letter.


    Slogine gave it and looked over his own again, studying it for hidden meanings. ¡°Don¡¯t be so pessimistic,¡± he advised. ¡°Why would the lord want to do that anyways? We¡¯ve been fighting on Unigard¡¯s side for a hot minute now. We could even be called assets.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re mercenaries,¡± the emp felt the need to remind him. ¡°He might¡ªor any noble, merchant, or royalty who don¡¯t like to let things go to chance¡ªthink that we won¡¯t be siding with Unigard next time. Might think that another country could put more gold in our pockets¡­¡±


    The letter had the lord¡¯s wax seal¡ªwhich seemed real enough¡ªbut he¡¯d already destroyed it upon opening, and he didn¡¯t feel bad about it by an inch. It was the text that aroused his suspicion and interest, and it wrote:


    Cammo Wurl,


    Lord Joolian Itlid, head of House Itlid, invites you to his castle to discuss opportunities of the highest order. Food, drink, and lodging will be provided upon arrival. The payment for said opportunity comes to a thousand queens for each man and woman who rises to the task, including land and title if you may see fit. Arrive by the 28th of Browlef at his castle in Mane to hear more. This is a matter of utmost importance.


    Signed: Ypoe Jue, Keeper of Texts


    Cammo frowned at the paper but put it in his pocket gently so as to not wrinkle it, keeping it admissible. As brief as it was, a thousand queens weren¡¯t something to scoff at, and definitely not something to ignore¡­ Even if it was strange as all hell.


    ¡°Is he right?¡± Slogine asked, putting his letter back. ¡°About us going off for another country?¡±


    ¡°If the pay is high enough, I suppose,¡± Cammo said. ¡°War¡¯s always the same, no matter what side you fight on. I¡¯m done thinking one side is right.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Cammo. Sometimes it is a matter of black and white¡­¡± Slogine said.


    ¡°Would you hang by if I did join another side?¡± Cammo asked.


    ¡°I would,¡± Slogine admitted. He ¡°stood¡± tall over the emp at six feet, and there was a certain pride in his posture that Cammo hadn¡¯t seen before. ¡°You know I would¡­ So I¡¯m going to trust you with it. If you did go, I¡¯d be right behind you. I¡¯ll leave the thinking to you.¡±


    ¡°Do it, then,¡± said Cammo. ¡°Let me handle the thinking¡­ Alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± the moon-man mumbled, tipping his hat down. But then, up ahead in the distance, he could see something approaching. With the way the hills rolled he couldn¡¯t have seen it before. There were soldiers riding straight to them, banners with sigils of the Itlid house in hand. ¡°You see that?¡±


    ¡°How could I not?¡± Cammo growled, slicking back his hair with the sweat of their journey. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere to run¡­¡±


    Slogine tipped his hat up again and studied the approaching men. ¡°What did I say before? Don¡¯t be so pessimistic. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re just coming to welcome us.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a particularly large group, only consisting of fifteen men, but they were armed and armored with iron and spears. Two sat in an open carriage while all the others rode stallins. Across their breastplates was the sigil of their lord¡¯s house, Itlid¡¯s house¡ªthe House of Wrath.


    ¡°They don¡¯t seem too menacing,¡± Slogine said optimistically. ¡°We could take them out if the need arose; stop worrying so much.¡±


    Cammo could only grunt at that, keeping his red eyes focused on the approaching cappellas. He could see that their helmets were off and relaxed a little¡­ Only fools would ride into a fight without them; fools or men riding into peace.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here in just a second,¡± Slogine said. ¡°Should I introduce us?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­ Look at me a second,¡± Cammo said, and Slogine did. ¡°Smile.¡± Slogine did, and it was extremely unpleasant. Slogine was just unpleasant to look at. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I even have to check¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do the talking, okay? Your face is a declaration of war,¡± Cammo stated, walking ahead.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Slogine yelled, following.


    The cappellas stopped twenty feet from the duo, some of them eyeing them with suspicion, and others with fear. The ¡°X¡± on Slogine''s chest and back was hidden behind the cloth of his sturdy shirt, but they knew it was there and knew what it meant. Finally, after the strained silence was beginning to wear on the nerves, one of them spoke up.


    ¡°Cammo Wurl, emp of Treelund? Slogine, moon-man of¡­ of the Blood Moon?¡± the leading man asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± the emp said, turning to the speaker. ¡°You can tell who¡¯s who, can¡¯t you?¡±


    The Unigardian didn¡¯t seem to care for the joke but feigned politeness with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m a knight of the lord¡¯s, at your service¡­ May I see your letters?¡±


    The emp reached into his pocket, never tearing his appraising gaze off the man, and pulled out the paper. ¡°You can. Slogine, give him yours.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Slogine said, slithering forwards to hand in his own letter. ¡°They¡¯re real, I assure you.¡±


    The Unigard scanned the papers, rectangular pupils running from one end to his eyes to the next and back again, before finally tearing them up while staring back at the men with a smile on his face. ¡°And they are,¡± he stated, extending his hand to the carriage behind them. ¡°Please climb onto the wagon, it¡¯s a far walk on foot¡ªor on tail, I suppose.¡±


    Cammo wordlessly walked between the stallins and the men that rode on top of them, and threw his bag on the back of faded wood before hopping on. Slogine followed, spooling his tail into a seat in the middle of the wagon and grabbing each side firmly with his long hands to support himself. The animals that carried them eyed the moon-man as curiously as the men who mounted them, but they went back to work the moment the little group of now seventeen started to turn back.


    ¡°You have some beautiful animals here,¡± Slogine commented.


    The leading man had moved back, riding next to them in formation. ¡°Mane is stallin country. All fields and grass; paradise for them,¡± he explained, patting the neck of the monster he rode. ¡°They¡¯re our main export. If they weren¡¯t beautiful, we¡¯d be in trouble.¡±


    The creatures only broke into a light trot, but even that was enough to turn the short grass beneath them into a blur of green as they rolled across the flat fields. Stallins were powerful beasts with bare, thick skin of earthy colors. Three oval-shaped holes lined their long necks on each side, taking in the air as they galloped through clearings on the solid hooves into their large lungs, before breathing out through the nostrils sitting on the sides on its long and square lower jaw. Its teeth were exposed with no skin to cover them, leaving molars to clamp shut as they rode, the wind passing harmlessly over its white teeth as its head would bob up and down from the motion, its green eyes and horizontal pupils watched the world pass by on the sides of their angular head. Cammo always thought they looked peaceful and strangely dignified.


    ¡°Big too,¡± Slogine said. ¡°How long is yours? Ten feet?¡± Stallins were longer than they were wide, allowing them to gallop in long strides that almost looked like jumps.


    The Unigardian nodded. ¡°Indeed, she¡¯s an impressive thing, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°That she is,¡± the gray snake agreed. ¡°You know my name, but I don¡¯t know yours.¡±


    ¡°Sir Wulter Inram,¡± he claimed. ¡°You can call me Wulter.¡±


    ¡°Well, Wulter, you have any idea what Lord Joolian has in store for us?¡± Slogine asked. ¡°The letter left us a little wanting in terms of information.¡±


    Sir Wulter shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t say that I do, but have no fear¡ªhe is a good man.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that because it¡¯s true? Or because he¡¯s your lord?¡± Cammo questioned, piping up for the first time since they started back to the mountains.


    ¡°Both,¡± Sir Wulter admitted. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t true. When you meet him, you¡¯ll think so too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be the decider of that,¡± Cammo said.


    Wulter must¡¯ve decided he didn¡¯t like this man and ignored that. ¡°I¡¯m off to the castle to notify the lord of your arrival. Please feel free to use the blankets under your seats if you feel the Falls¡¯ chill. I¡¯m off.¡±


    Sir Wulter rode past his men and to the mountains, kicking the back of his stallin¡¯s hind legs with the back of his own iron covered hooves to spur it on. The two on the wagon watched him go before turning towards each other with looks of skepticism.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Slogine said. ¡°I believe him, I think. He really didn¡¯t seem to know why we were called here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I felt it too,¡± Cammo said. What that meant, he had no clue.


    ¡°In any case, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    2


    The valley almost seemed to choke everything that lived in it. The houses of the common folk were squeezed together, their usually pasty-colored stucco was dyed gray with the clouds of crushed rock that the miners carried out, making the entire place look dour. The one saving grace that elevated the area''s depressing atmosphere was the nature hanging above them, clinging to the sides of the mountain like the way moss would collect on heavy stone, raining a constant flow of red, orange, and yellow leaves. But Cammo guessed that it wouldn¡¯t last. Winter would come, turning the only pretty thing in the tight alley into dark, pointy branches more akin to wormy spikes crawling out of the crevices of rock.


    ¡°Mane¡­¡± Slogine muttered, as if tasting the word on his tongue. ¡°I heard about this place, but I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be like this.¡±


    ¡°What did you expect?¡± Cammo asked, studying the common folk, who were in turn, studying them.


    ¡°I guess what we saw before¡ªlong fields, healthy stallins, and fertile land. Not¡­ this,¡± the grey snake explained. ¡°It¡¯s fine though. The trees are pretty.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Cammo grunted, looking up ahead. There were homes on the right and left of them, the alleys that formed between them forming little walkways that led to the one place of interest¡ªthe main street. That¡¯s where it looked like the farmers put their goods on sale, tight stalls lining their path on either side. In a way it made sense; they plot their land outside on the fields and live inside the valley for its protection. In another way it didn¡¯t. ¡°It¡¯s easy to cut off.¡±


    ¡°Hm? What is?¡±


    ¡°The valley. They get their food from outside, but I was just thinking of how easy it¡¯d be to cut off,¡± he explained. ¡°I won¡¯t think about it too hard. They probably have their plans for that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I bet¡­ Hey, look over there,¡± Slogine said, pointing ahead with a long and bony finger. ¡°Another emp.¡±


    Cammo had been too focused on the castle to notice but the moon-man was right, there was an emp shopping among the cappellas, staring at the different fruits and vegetables with already wide eyes. Tall for an emp, she stood at four feet and four inches with light-blue skin and deep, wavy scarlet hair cut short to her shoulders. A simple cloak protected her from the cooling weather as she browsed. ¡°Wonder what she¡¯s doing out here.¡± It¡¯d been a long way from Treelund. ¡°Wait¡­ Slogine, do you think¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the moon-man nodded, taking off his broad black hat. ¡°We¡¯re not the only ones who were invited.¡±


    The woman saw the vendor she¡¯d been talking with turn to the duo as they rode close and did the same. She paid and ran over. The wagon stopped as she waved them down.


    ¡°Let me ride to the castle with you,¡± she told the man who took over leading them. ¡°I don¡¯t want to walk all the way back.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± the new leader said with a nod. ¡°Just hop on the wagon.¡±


    She walked briskly to them and handed Slogine her basket. ¡°Hold this for me, would you?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± the grey snake said with a smile, accidently flashing horribly sharp (but remarkably white) teeth as he did.


    Once the goods were given, she used both hands to climb the high and faded wood, before passing the two and relaxing in the back seat. ¡°Locine Noo,¡± she introduced herself, extending her hand to shake. ¡°And you both are?¡±


    ¡°Slogine. No last name,¡± the moon-man said, reaching over with his long arm and taking her hand. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t suppose you know why we were called here?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Sorry¡­ I suppose that means you¡¯re both wi¡ª¡± she began, but stopped, looking over at who was most definitely not a wizard, ¡°magic. I suppose that means you¡¯re both magic.¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t be on this wagon if we weren¡¯t,¡± Cammo muttered, turning his attention back to the stone ahead, uninterested.


    ¡°That¡¯s Cammo,¡± Slogine said. ¡°He¡¯s just a little on edge right now, so don¡¯t mind him.¡±


    ¡°No offense taken,¡± said Locine. ¡°They¡¯re gonna start soon anyways.¡±


    ¡°Who is?¡±


    ¡°The lord is,¡± she said.


    Cammo looked back at her, his attention regained.


    ¡°All the other wizards are waiting in the dining hall for him to start explaining,¡± Locine explained, nibbling on an orage. ¡°I just showed up yesterday and wanted to explore the village a bit before the night came.¡±


    ¡°How many others?¡± Cammo questioned. ¡°Ten? Twenty?¡±


    ¡°Thirty, or somewhere around there¡­ All I know is that they¡¯re all wizards,¡± she muttered. ¡°Are you two traveling together?¡±


    Slogine nodded. ¡°Have been as mercenaries a couple years now. You a mercenary?¡±


    ¡°Nothing like that,¡± she said with a shake of her head. Her deep red hair bounced along. ¡°But you two aren¡¯t alone¡ªthere¡¯s mercenaries, bounty hunters, and exterminators¡­ Honestly¡­ it''s a pretty dangerous group all around. Are you two dangerous?¡± She seemed almost unsure if she should have even asked that question.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Slogine asked. ¡°Do you mean good with magic? Or bad men?¡±


    ¡°There were a lot of bad men in there that were also good with magic,¡± Locine said. ¡°Are you both or only one?¡±


    Slogine smiled his unsettling smile and held up one finger. ¡°Good with magic, not bad men.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s a pleasure,¡± the woman said, smiling back. If his grin was creeping her out, she didn¡¯t show it. ¡°Dreary place, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Cammo watched the old stone grow bigger and bigger as they rode forwards. It was more of a wall than a castle, its heights reaching all the way to the peak of both mountains, four turrets lined the top, and small walkways of grey brick lined the flat of its walls. On second thought, the emp believed that Lord Joolian¡¯s castle in Mane looked like a dam. It was big enough to be one. ¡°That it is.¡±


    And they continued on, its giant doors of sturdy wood parting, letting them into its courtyard.


    3


    The inside was a maze¡ªlike all castles usually were¡ªof dead ends, drab decor, and long hallways. Luckily the woman they¡¯d encountered managed to memorize the path to the dining room, leading them there with ease, even going as far as to sit with them as a line of servants exchanged empty dishes with full ones. Locine wasn¡¯t wrong. The place¡ªone that also looked like a long hall, it''s one table stretching from one side to the other like a fallen tree¡ªwas completely filled with all manner of people. Cammo could spy cappellas, tousks, avilops, hiddunsons, and doggs feasting on the platters of food delivered to the table. Some watched Slogine with open curiosity while others only gave the most cautious of glances, but Cammo bet they were all thinking the same thing: What the hell is a moon-man doing here? Slogine didn¡¯t seem to mind and started filling himself, saying something about how good it was to eat a meal without having to cook. The emp with him had only been in a couple of castles, but never in places like this; not prestigious places. They sat among those furthest away from the raised platform and table the lord and his family would eat, but they were empty now. Even if Cammo refused to admit it, his speculation was overpowered by the sheer curiosity he felt concerning their whole situation.


    This is an army, he thought. I¡¯ve never seen so many wizards clumped together like this¡­


    Locine, who sat on his right, seemed to understand exactly what he was thinking of. ¡°It¡¯s a little amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°All these wizards together¡­ It really makes you wonder what Lord Joolian wants with us all¡­¡± she said, poking at the steak on her plate. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Probably a dangerous Crater,¡± Slogine said, before dropping a full drum leg into his maw and pulling it out as a bone. He chewed and swallowed. ¡°Probably someplace that normal men couldn¡¯t go¡­ That¡¯s what I think.¡±


    ¡°I had the same idea,¡± Locine commented, leaning her head over the table and cocking it to see the grey snake. ¡°A thousand queens each¡­ I bet he doesn¡¯t even expect us all to make it back from¡­ wherever he¡¯s planning on sending us.¡± She fell back into her seat and removed her cloak, placing on the back of her seat made for cappellas, not emps. ¡°What do you think, Cammo?¡±


    The man glanced over, his mouth filled with mashed tatios and roast pork, and swallowed. The emps attitude towards clothing was different from the rest of the world¡ªfashion, variety, extravagance; they were all tossed aside when it came to what the small men and women wore in their villages and towns. Every outfit was given a uniform coloration as determined by the village psychic, each one representing the general course an emp¡¯s life would take. Cammo wore red, the color of a warrior¡ªhe had pride in that. And like their bodies, their clothes changed as they aged. At twenty-six, Cammo wore a tight-fitted shirt without sleeves, putting his trained body on display. In four years, he¡¯d go to a tailor and order something baggier with short sleeves, his skinny pants following suit. But the woman wore yellow, the color of luck and fortune¡­ And her outfit was the same that all young women of Treelund had worn, a simple long-sleeved half-shirt, a short skirt that ended at the top of her knee, semi-translucent leggings, and shin-high boots. He didn¡¯t know what it was¡­ Maybe the flat, muscled tone of her stomach or the way the swell of her chest made the fabric of her shirt hang, but he liked it. She was also a very pretty girl. Of course, being the man that he was, he hid this behind a face that someone might have carved out of a rigid stone. ¡°Maybe it''s a coup.¡±


    She giggled for a moment, but stopped when his expression failed to change. ¡°Are you serious?¡± she asked, growing it herself. ¡°A coup?¡±


    The emp shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility¡­ Everyone¡ªI¡¯m assuming everyone if you were right about how they made their living¡ªin this room is a killer, or at least skilled. And they all do it for money¡­ It all depends on whether a thousand queens are enough.¡± He turned his head from the food and back to her. ¡°How about you? You said you weren¡¯t a mercenary, but you didn¡¯t say what you actually did¡­ What do you do? Do you kill?¡±


    She couldn¡¯t answer for a moment, locked in his studious gaze. The woman eventually managed to avert her eyes, focusing on the meager (yet nutritionally balanced) assortment on her pale plate. ¡°Sometimes.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It''s not always so violent. I just do whatever puts food on my plate¡­ Like now.¡±


    ¡°And are you dangerous?¡±


    Emps didn¡¯t have pupils the way that other creatures did or even misshapen ones like the cappellas, but everyone knew when one was looking at them. An ill-researched organ or section of the brain sent the signal whenever one did, and that signal triggered the moment Cammo asked. Her face was still looking forwards, only the corner of her eye in Cammo¡¯s view. It was out of that corner that Cammo was sure she was looking at him. ¡°I might be¡­¡± she said softly, just loud enough to carry itself over the revelry of the room. ¡°I might not¡­¡±


    Cammo frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t think I like that answer¡­¡±


    ¡°You, a fellow wizard, of all people should understand where I¡¯m coming from,¡± she said, turning her pretty face back to him. ¡°I want my strengths, my weaknesses, and my attitude kept to myself.¡±


    Cammo opened his mouth to say something (nothing good) right before his companion swallowed his meal and interjected. ¡°We get it,¡± Slogine said. ¡°We won¡¯t pry¡­¡±


    She smiled at him. ¡°Thank you. You know, you¡¯d think that the kind, friendly one would be Cammo, and the cold, rude one would be you¡­ but that isn¡¯t the case.¡±


    Slogine chuckled and patted Cammo¡¯s back¡ªthe emp was not amused. ¡°Right you are¡­ Oh! I think that¡¯s him.¡±


    4


    The laughter and conversation fell silent as the old man slowly stepped onto his platform and took his seat, his aged eyes surveying the crowd below him with unknowable intent¡­ He definitely wasn¡¯t what Cammo had been expecting. Lord Joolian looked about a hundred, he walked on a simple black cane, his posture was also that of an old mans, all leaned forward with a hand stuck on his lower back, and even his horns seemed scuffed. The simple brown robe and boots seemed to fit him well, and the scarf carrying his house''s sigil didn¡¯t seem the least bit faded. Only he climbed up on the platform. Some knights stood guard at the stairs leading up. What would they even be able to protect? Cammo thought. The cappellas didn¡¯t seem like wizards, and that didn¡¯t strike the emp as much of an advantage, especially in a room filled with dangerous strangers¡ªhim included.


    He motioned for one of the armored men to hand him something, which the armored man did. It was far but Cammo could vaguely tell what it was, and it was a mic: a little crystal that made everything sound louder. Expensive little things that needed to be charged with mana, but Cammo also guessed that they weren¡¯t out of a nobleman''s reach. ¡°Welcome to my castle, everyone. I am Lord Joolian Itlid, head of House Itlid, and ruler of Mane,¡± were his first words, even his voice sounding old. ¡°I can understand any feelings of¡­ impatience¡­ But I¡¯d ask you to forgive me for the¡­ secrecy¡­¡± His sentences rolled off his tongue the same way a slug would crawl across a low, damp log, pausing every so often to collect the next string. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ll be needing you to wait a little longer¡­ Two months¡­ to be exact¡­¡±


    The wizards of the room exchanged glances.


    ¡°I need to appraise you all so I¡­ can determine which ones are right for the task¡­¡± Lord Joolian explained. ¡°And I will not be¡­ not be explaining that task until I have¡­ appraised you all¡­ It is a matter of life¡­ of life and death. I can NOT afford those who¡­ cannot meet my requirements¡­ Those who do not wish¡­ to¡­ be appraised may leave now. And anyone¡­ who does not meet my requirements will receive¡­ seventy-five queens for the inconvenience of traveling all the way¡­ here¡­ Those who do stay will be given¡­ lodging and dining until I have made a decision¡­¡± He grabbed his cane and groaned as he pushed his withering body off of his chair, choosing to stand for his final statement. ¡°There are thirty-five of you here. And I will not repeat myself¡­ or answer questions¡­ If this displeases you¡­ speak to Sir Wulter and¡­ receive your pay. The rest will stay¡­ and another knight will show you to inns that¡­ that have been readied for your arrival¡­ Good day¡­¡±


    And then he was finished, now carefully inching down the platform steps with the help of a nearby knight. He gave the room one final, tired nod and left from the door he entered. Then the room full of wizards hunched over their half-eaten meals and began to quietly discuss the old man¡¯s offer, whispers bouncing off the dark stone walls of the castle.


    ¡°What do you think, Cammo?¡± Slogine asked, leaning close.


    ¡°What do I think?¡± the emp repeated, his eyes cast on the bloody steak he¡¯d been eating. That was the question, wasn¡¯t it? Slogine may have been the talker, the one who¡ªmiraculously, despite his terrifying appearance¡ªgot peoples guards down when speaking, the one who handled routes to their next destination, food, haggling, and even contracts¡­ But it was Cammo who decided what wars they fought in the first place. And was this mysterious battle one they¡¯d take? The emp looked over at his companion, deep into his own mind in search of that answer¡­ ¡°A thousand queens are a lot of money. We make about three-hundred or so each campaign, and that¡¯s combined¡­ With that kind of money, we could get land, servants, and everything like that.¡±


    ¡°No more scrounging¡­ No more blood and mud¡­¡± Slogine said seriously. ¡°It¡¯s our ticket out¡­ But that¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking about¡­ Are we doing this or not, brother?¡±


    Cammo thought about it again. He came to a conclusion. ¡°Yeah,¡± he answered. ¡°No more blood and mud. Let''s pass that geezer¡¯s ¡®appraisal¡¯ and do his task. Let¡¯s get rich, brother.¡±


    ¡°You two are brothers?¡± a feminine voice spoke, so close to his long ear that he could feel its warm breath.


    Cammo, who had forgotten she was there, almost jumped out of his seat; he collected himself. ¡°Do you mind?!¡±


    She fell back in a seat that was too large for her. ¡°Sah¡ªrry. Geez¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯ll you do, Locine?¡± Slogine asked. ¡°Will you stay or will you go?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t you guys feel it in the air? That¡¯s adventure!¡±


    People began to turn their way, cutting their brief conversations as her voice carried itself across the table.


    ¡°Hey, shut up!¡± Cammo whispered. ¡°People are starting to stare!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care, triangle nose,¡± she barked. ¡°This is the chance. The choice that sends a person''s life down one path or another, I can feel it! Everyone in this room can!¡±


    Slogine laughed. ¡°She¡¯s right, ¡®triangle nose.¡¯ ¡±


    Cammo¡¯s hand covered his angular nose reflexively before tearing it away and turning towards his friend with anger in his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t you start!¡±


    ¡°Now who¡¯s drawing attention?¡± Locine giggled.


    The man turned to see that almost every eye was on him. His lavender cheeks turned violet. ¡°What are you looking at?!¡±


    Everyone stared for only one moment longer and went back to their conversations.


    ¡°You know that we¡¯re going to be sleeping near these guys for the next couple of weeks¡­¡± Slogine reminded him. ¡°And first impressions¡ª¡±


    ¡°Suck a cock,¡± Cammo muttered, pushing his seat back and standing back. ¡°I¡¯m off for a drink. Stay here and get the details.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s ale here,¡± Locine said, holding up a mug¡ªanother object not made for her small hands¡ªas proof.


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk to us like we¡¯re friends,¡± Cammo growled, before turning to his companion. ¡°And you. Don¡¯t humor her¡­ I¡¯ll find you when I¡¯m done.¡± He turned his back and left.


    ¡°What¡¯s his problem?¡± Locine asked, taking a small sip of ale.


    ¡°He can have kind of a pissy attitude, I¡¯ll admit,¡± Slogine agreed, leaning back in his seat. ¡°But don¡¯t let it get to you. He wouldn¡¯t be my brother if he was like that all the time.¡±


    5


    Ten wizards left that night, taking the pay, leaving them at just twenty-five left. Locine stayed and made a friend of Slogine, something that Cammo didn¡¯t appreciate in the slightest. But her company soon turned out to be the least of his worries. Every time they went into town to drink or eat, someone watched them¡ªthe appraisers. They never revealed themselves and kept tabs of their activities with an impartial eye, and the small group of magic users never knew what they were looking for, or what they were judging of them.


    Not much happened the first month. No one was booted.


    But the second month changed that. On the first day, Sir Wulter came and requested one wizard to join Lord Joolian for tea and a chat. He went with a smile but came back with a frown, his pocket heavier with his consolation prize. Every day he came, bringing another person within the castle gates and kicking them out with a pouch of gold. The wizards who were rejected always said the same thing: I don¡¯t know what I did wrong! I sat with him, answered a few questions¡­ and then he kicked me out!


    None of them gave the castle staff much of a problem apart from one, a hardy looking tousk that Cammo had met once. And from that one meeting, he knew that the man was trouble, that he had some other reason for being there that he wasn¡¯t letting on about. He cursed the knight who guided him out and proceeded to curse every other wizard staying in the inn, screaming and hollering with the grace and maturity of a bratty girl, before stomping off into one of the tight mountain paths. He was found beheaded the next morning.


    Cammo wasn¡¯t surprised. The man¡ªeven if he was a tousk¡ªhad openly insulted and threatened a group of battle-hardened wizards. It wasn¡¯t so unbelievable that one would take such an attack so close to heart and go off to repay him in kind. Cammo forgot this event quickly. He was occupied with the terrifying thought that he¡¯d be swallowed by the cracked stone and spit back out, his pocket heavier¡­


    Locine was the first of the three to be called in. There were ten of them by that point but being the last ones didn¡¯t make them feel lucky in the slightest. They expected her to be another of the rejects, but that didn¡¯t happen. She came back with a light pocket, just as confused as everyone she explained her story too. Even when Slogine and Cammo had her alone, her story never changed. She had tea and answered a couple of the old man¡¯s questions. He said I¡¯d get an explanation once he was done with everyone else, she said.


    Are you sure you didn¡¯t do anything? Cammo had asked.


    Like what? she muttered defensively. I already told you exactly what he asked! Get off my back, triangle nose.


    It was obvious that she was hiding something, but no amount of questioning brought the truth¡­ Then, just days before they reached the sixty-day mark, Slogine was summoned. He came back with a light pocket too. Even the moon-man had no idea what he¡¯d done right. I just told him my story¡­ he claimed, just as confused as Locine had been. I just told him what I told you, Cammo.


    Three others managed to come back from the castle gates with an empty pouch in hand, their answers just as simple as anyone else''s. Two cappellas (Unigardians) and a tousk made up their group; Cammo got along with them fine.


    One murky morning of low fog and wet streets, while the final wizards to take his test were eating breakfast with tired eyes, Sir Wulter came.


    He wanted Cammo.


    6


    ¡°How do you like¡­ your tea¡­?¡± Joolian asked, just as half-awake Cammo had been at the start of the morning. ¡°Milk¡­? Sugar¡­?¡±


    His drawl seemed even worse than usual, something that the tall and nervous emp attributed to the sun''s late rise. ¡°I don¡¯t like tea.¡±


    ¡°Please, sit¡­¡± the lord offered, motioning to the comfortable looking chair to his left.


    Cammo accepted without a word, slowly sinking into its velvet cushions, not feeling the least bit relaxed. How could he? This small and seemingly casual encounter was what decided his course in life, if what that other emp said was true¡­ and he thought she was. And even if she wasn¡¯t, if all this was was just another job and another pile of gold¡ªone thousand was still a big number.


    ¡°It¡¯s relaxing here,¡± Cammo half-lied. It was a calm, peaceful place. The fireplace bathed them in its warmth and light, but every other corner of the room subject to the cold and dark, even the places nearby were drenched in light shadow. But even though the stark difference between the light and the spaces where it was absent, he could feel a certain mood rising: It feels safe in here, he thought. He put up even more mental defenses. Lord Joolian, whatever his goal was, was trying to lower his guard. ¡°What¡¯s this about? All of this? The waiting, the watching, and this interview¡­ I want to know.¡±


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t have the¡­ patience to¡­ tolerate it¡­ You would¡­ have left¡­¡± the old man managed to say. ¡°But¡­ you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are here,¡± the emp finished impatiently. ¡°If it¡¯s questions you want to ask, ask them.¡±


    The¡ªCammo thought he might be¡ªsenile old man watched him silently with hazel eyes, his oval-shaped pupils never mover an inch as he did. ¡°Are you¡­ infertile?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We all¡­ live under His shadow¡­ We live by¡­ His rules¡­¡± Joolian explained, his wrinkles looking like dark scars.


    Cammo immediately knew what he was talking about. He was talking about the Guerrieros¡­ Noblemen had the privilege of giving birth, but that came with a price: the first two went to the black-eyed invaders. Cammo could tell that the old man had never really moved past that¡­ But what right did he have to fucking complain? Cammo thought. After he had the two, he could have as many children as he wanted! That same privilege extended only to royalty, people with power. But men like Cammo, women like Locine, and even moon-men like Slogine weren¡¯t so lucky. All their children were in danger. The emp felt his cheeks darken as a scowl grew.


    ¡°No, we don¡¯t,¡± Cammo muttered. ¡°You get to have children in the end, don¡¯t you? If I had a kid, I¡¯d have to worry about all kinds of people trying to sell them off. To kill them, to eat them, to have them as cattle. There is no we.¡±


    ¡°Only¡­ one made it¡­¡± the old man said slowly.


    Cammo frown softened, and he furrowed an eyebrow. ¡°What ¡®one¡¯?¡±


    ¡°One child,¡± Joolian clarified, shutting the emp up. ¡°After giving away the first two¡­ I had four more¡­ Three boys¡­ one girl¡­¡± He looked back towards the fireplace and clenched his fist. ¡°They were taken¡­ I tried to watch them¡­ had guards watch them¡­ but it was all for¡­ naught¡­¡± His hand went limp. ¡°I¡­ I asked the¡­ Lesser Queen for help¡­ but there was nothing she could do¡­ You¡¯d think that¡­ the Guerrieros themselves would¡­ give them back¡­ They were the main buyer¡­ after all¡­ The easiest to¡­ sell to¡­ But they rejected me¡­ Said¡­ I should have paid¡­ closer attention¡­¡± He looked back at Cammo, his eyes blank. ¡°There is a we.¡±


    Cammo couldn¡¯t say a word, but that was only because he couldn¡¯t think of anything to say. He had no idea. He¡¯d always thought that men with castles and land were just exempt from that kind of danger¡­


    Lord Joolian sipped his tea. ¡°Are you¡­ infertile?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he answered, eyes off him.


    ¡°And¡­ why not?¡±


    It was common practice for a wizard to ¡°fix¡± themselves. To kill the sperm in their testicles or destroy the eggs in their ovaries; it was responsible. Women with magic in their veins would be raped, and the men would get their testicles cut off for the sperm inside. That is, if they had living sperm and fertile eggs in the first place. Some wizards would engage in an almost cannibal-like behavior if they found out such a thing. That¡¯s why the only person who knew that Cammo never subjected himself to such procedures was Slogine¡ªuntil now. Lord Joolian now knew that he was a fertile wizard, and he wanted an explanation as to why.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Cammo said. He was frowning again. ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been asking people?¡±


    Lord Joolian nodded. ¡°Yes.¡±


    The emp¡¯s Glow exploded out, adding its own light to fill the corners that the flame had missed. He stood up, suddenly thankful for the old man¡¯s choice to speak to him alone. ¡°I know what you''re trying to do now.¡±


    Lord Joolian didn¡¯t flinch or even look surprised. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°I do. You¡¯re just gonna sell our parts to the highest bidder,¡± Cammo claimed. How could he have been so stupid? The old man lured them in with the promise of gold, got rid of the ones who he couldn¡¯t sell, and probably hired some other wizards to grab them the moment he was done. ¡°You won¡¯t succeed. I won¡¯t let you¡­¡±


    ¡°Calm down¡­ If that was my plan¡­ then why would I¡­ hire fighters¡­?¡± Lord Joolian questioned, poking a giant hole through the emp''s thought process. ¡°There isn¡¯t a¡­ single wizard under my¡­ command¡­ The six of you¡­ could destroy us if¡­ you saw fit¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you really expect me to believe that?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Joolian said, shaking his head. ¡°There¡¯s no¡­ way I could prove my intentions¡­ No way¡­ you could be satisfied with¡­¡±


    ¡°Me and companion are done here,¡± Cammo muttered, the green aura dissipating into nothing. He made for the door.


    But before he could leave, the aging lord said, ¡°I think¡­ you want children¡­ I think you want¡­ peace and love¡­¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about now?¡± the emp asked, feeling his temper rise again.


    ¡° ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ is what¡­ you said¡­ correct?¡±


    ¡°So what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve met men¡­ who just didn¡¯t care to have the procedure done¡­ But that was¡­ a reason¡­ You don¡¯t strike me as¡­ someone who doesn¡¯t¡­ care¡­ Everyone knows why¡­ they do it¡­¡± the old man explained. ¡°You just can¡¯t admit why¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know me¡­¡± Cammo said, turning away.


    He made it all the way to the doorknob before the lord¡¯s tired voice called out to him, ¡°You passed.¡±


    Cammo¡¯s hand stopped on the iron knob.


    ¡°Make your choice¡­ Stay or leave. But tomorrow¡­ comes the explanation¡­¡±


    Cammo left and shut the door behind him and motioned for Sir Wulter to let him through, and that he did. Cammo exited the castle only twenty minutes after he entered, his pocket light.


    7


    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me it was like that,¡± Cammo told Slogine.


    The snake was chatting with the other ones who passed when his companion confronted him, only turning away from the conversation to say one thing: ¡°It¡¯s your choice. I wanted to see what you¡¯d think¡­ So, what do you think?¡±


    Everyone was watching him then. The two cappellas that might¡¯ve been brothers, the tousk, Slogine, and even Locine were all waiting to hear for what he had to say. So he employed a neat trick his father had taught him. He said, Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and say what the first thing that comes to your mind. That¡¯s the answer. The one you really want. He thought it stupid at the time, but now¡­


    Cammo shut his eyes and took a deep breath in. ¡°Let¡¯s hear him out. Worst case scenario, we break that wall to dust.¡±

 Snakes, Swords, and Something Worse Part Two

    1


    A week later they were called into the throne room, just them and the lord. The old Unigardian sat on his throne; he didn¡¯t fit as well as he should have, and Cammo imagined that he had grown out of the thing. But that depressing thought was derailed when he noticed the creature on its knees behind him, its frightening head facing forward right over the old lord¡ªa wrath. Satan, the High Warden of Hell, claimed that the seven demons that would escape and wreak havoc were just accidents, that he had no hand in what they did or where they went, that it wasn¡¯t his fault¡­ Cammo traveled to Hell once and saw the Demon Lord himself¡­ Just one look was all it took to convince the emp that it was a lie.


    Cammo shivered as the moon-man¡¯s face visited his mind again. ¡°What a beast¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s huge¡­¡± Locine muttered, looking at it in wonder. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a demon before.¡±


    ¡°Are they all that big?¡± the tousk, whose name was Wuytr, asked. He carried a double-headed war-axe across his back, the blades hanging near the back of his head, the pole reaching to his knees. Cammo had spoken to him and came to the conclusion that he was the average tousk¡ªbig, strong, free, proud, and stupid. The raw furs and hides of beasts hung loosely off his body, his dull-red skin even duller with the lack of light the throne room provided.


    ¡°No¡­ This one¡¯s almost two times bigger than a normal wrath¡­¡± Slogine said, even his snake eyes glued to the beast kneeling over Lord Joolian. ¡°This thing¡­ this thing could crush boulders by the looks of it.¡±


    The moon-man wasn¡¯t wrong. Both of its rough hands, plagued with callouses, rested in fists straight down on either side of Joolian¡¯s throne, rippling muscles lined its naked arms and back, bulging veins following along its black skin. The only body hair on its ugly form collected on the groin, hiding whatever disgusting thing lay beneath. An ape-like head sat on its thick neck, stuck in a never-ending snarl that showcased some of the sharpest and most jagged rows of teeth any of them had ever seen. Nostrils like the barrels of a cannon sat on the end of its wide, long snout, its small red eyes facing forward and piercing their hearts, hiding just under its prominent brow. Short, pointy ears locked to the sides of the naked oval shape of its head, and Cammo needed to remind himself that it was dead. It was impressive, threatening, and seemed ready to stand and walk straight out of the large and empty room it¡¯d been relegated to for decades¡ªbut it was dead. It was an impressive trophy and that was all it was.


    Still¡­ the emp felt a feeling of strange danger start to flood his mind¡­ He walked over to his companion and pulled him down by the shoulder, positioning his face near the little hole Slogine called an ear. ¡°Be on guard,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯m getting a bad feeling¡­¡±


    ¡°I got one too,¡± Locine said, her face close to his again.


    Cammo didn¡¯t flinch this time. ¡°Slogine?¡±


    ¡°Me too, boss,¡± the snake man said. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just the corpse¡­ I can¡¯t help but feel on edge just looking at it.¡±


    Cammo looked at the thing. ¡°Maybe¡­ Locine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± she said.


    ¡°Keep close,¡± Cammo ordered.


    Locine stared at him blankly for only a moment before nodding. ¡°That¡¯s the plan then.¡±


    It took the tall emp another moment to realize why he felt such unease, why he requested the woman to hang by¡­ It was a gut feeling that said, We¡¯re being watched. His red eyes scanned the dark ceiling and corners briefly, searching for¡­ he didn¡¯t even know. He saw nothing. ¡°You,¡± he said, looking at Lord Joolian. ¡°What¡¯s with the demon?¡±


    For the first time in their company the old man smiled. ¡°Magnificent, isn¡¯t he? I killed him myself when I was a young man¡­ I¡¯m too old for magic now¡ªor maybe I¡¯ve just let myself go? In any case, he was causing some trouble, so I took care of him.¡±


    ¡°You sound a lot quicker,¡± another Unigardian¡ªone of two brothers, Cammo found out¡ªsaid.


    ¡°Oh yes, I¡¯ve had coffee,¡± said the old lord.


    ¡°Is that what that was¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can¡¯t afford to be asleep now, at the end of this whole ordeal. You all deserve an explanation you could understand,¡± Lord Joolian said. ¡°Is everyone ready?¡±


    Some said yes and others nodded. They were ready for what he was about to say, yes¡ªbut they weren¡¯t ready for what would come after¡­


    2


    ¡°All of you are whole,¡± he began. ¡°By that I mean, you all can have children¡­ And none of you took this path out of negligence. The Guerrieros rule the world, and that rule puts all of you in danger. It puts whatever children you may choose to have, whatever person you choose to have them with, in that same danger.¡± His proud smile faded as a cold seriousness replaced it. ¡°I may be a lord, but I¡¯ve never been good at politics¡­ I¡¯ve never been able to wrench power from another''s hands; that¡¯s why I¡¯ve been relegated to this ill visited valley, in this lonely castle. I thought at first, I¡¯d be able to protect the children I did have after the tax better than others¡­ I was wrong. I was left with one son¡­ My lady wife died having him. And she died because she already had six before.


    ¡°The people who stole my babies away were never brought to justice¡­ And do any of you know why? It¡¯s because the Guerrieros don¡¯t care where the children come from. Whether the child of a criminal or high-born, they just want the child¡­ Do any of you remember your parents? Were they good to you? Did you even have parents? Did you live the start of your life alone, only to discover the mana in your blood after casting your first spell? Some of you have¡­¡±


    Locine¡¯s eyes grew a little sad. She¡¯s one, right there, Cammo thought. And so am I.


    ¡°And then you were cast out from where you stayed, condemned to live alone or as a liar¡­ That¡¯s the life the men with black eyes have left for us. Even Unigard, the most powerful nation in the world (all of you can admit), can not contend with that disgusting scourge,¡± he explained, balling up a fist upon the arm of his throne. ¡°But so what, then? What happens when the greatest army in the world fails to challenge them? Nothing! We are being exterminated!¡± He stood up, leaving his cane. ¡°And it is not the overt destruction the slikes faced! Nor Unigards crusade against the Snow-roaches! It is a slow, painful holocaust of everything we are and everything we continue to be! It is the destruction of wizard-folk! It is our erasure!¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± Wuytr agreed, looking hot.


    ¡°For the sake of ourselves, those we will love or have loved, and for the sake of the future generation, we must stand!¡± Lord Joolian screamed. ¡°WE WILL TEAR OUT THEIR EVIL EYES!¡±


    ¡°YEAH!¡± the two Unigardian brothers yeah in unison. They were all getting hot.


    Joolian gave them a wide smile and closed his eyes, letting out one long breath before opening them back up again, seeming calm. ¡°But now it¡¯s just us. ¡®We¡¯ extends to far more than just this room¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a Gouger,¡± Cammo said, everything that transpired over the last two months making sense. They were the stuff of legends¡ªno! They were legends. Tales to tell your children just before snuffing out the candle¡­ But the moment that possibility entered the mind of that pragmatic emp, it all seemed clear. Lord Joolian, head of House Itlid, is a Gouger¡­


    Everyone turned to him for a moment before turning back to the dark-skinned cappella, the one who was nodding. ¡°There is no money. If there was, paying even you lot would leave me flat broke. It was a lie I am sorry for telling¡­ But if you join, you will be taken care of. Your children would be taken care of. For that is our one true goal: our children should not be condemned to lives of fear from the moment they come into life.¡±


    The fact that the thousand pieces of gold was nothing more than a ruse was the least of the emp''s worries. The price for this kind of ultimate treason¡­ was death for all. For the families, for the friends of the families, and the villages they lived in. It meant the destruction of this castle and the razing of the valley. It meant that even this old man¡¯s son¡ªsomeone who probably had nothing to do with it, someone who probably had a son themselves¡ªwould suffer the consequences of his father¡¯s rebellion. It meant suicide.


    The room was still, everyone who was hot had gone cold.


    ¡°I¡¯ll join,¡± Locine stated.


    Now it was her they focused on, surprising even the old man that offered the position, but they all looked towards him again when he started to laugh. ¡°No. I don¡¯t decide that¡­¡±


    She, like all the others, looked confused.


    ¡°If an old man like me decided who became Gougers, then the rebellion would¡¯ve collapsed years ago,¡± he explained. ¡°This is the starting line¡­ From here, I¡¯d send you off to yet another place where you¡¯d be tested, and they¡¯d send you to another¡­ That¡¯s how we keep ourselves so hidden¡ªhow we stay legends. Even me, a ¡®lord¡¯, is nothing but a recruiter.¡±


    ¡°Are they true?¡± Slogine asked. ¡°The stories about Oasis?¡±


    Cammo wanted to know too, about the one place it was safe for them: another legend.


    ¡°That¡¯s the real prize, isn¡¯t it?¡± Lord Joolian said, grinning. ¡°That¡¯s not for me to reveal, and even if I wanted to, I don¡¯t really know¡­ My child is grown, after all. And I¡¯m just a simple recruiter.¡± He fell back onto his throne. ¡°You all understand the dangers¡­ Make your choice for the final time. I will have to ask those who decline not to speak of this¡­ for obvious reasons¡­ Think about it amongst yourselves. But the choice is to be made now. Right now. In this room.¡±


    The tousk backed up and leaned into one of the many pillars holding up the high ceiling, the brothers came together on the opposite column of smooth stone, Cammo and Slogine huddled together, and Locine sat on the stony steps that led up to the menacing throne.


    This is the chance. The choice that sends a person''s life down one path or another, Cammo remembered. That¡¯s exactly right, girl¡­


    His friend looked at him with the same stony expression he used two months prior, when staying or going was still their choice to make¡ªin a way, it still was. ¡°What are we doing, boss?¡±


    And Cammo thought about it hard, but it didn¡¯t take long to come to a conclusion. It was something he thought about a lot¡­ It was a story his father told him even after the longest days in the brewery. It was something he dreamt about. Cammo Wurl opened his mouth to answer¡ª


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you decide,¡± someone above them said, their voice echoing through the empty hall, almost like that of a ghost. ¡°You¡¯re all gonna die anyway.¡±


    3


    Everybody shot up, all staring at the crevices above for the source, each one gripping their weapons in anticipation. Lord Joolian rose again with a grave expression, using his cane to support himself; there was no strength in him now. It was deathly quiet.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?!¡± he yelled; the terror palpable. ¡°This is a private meeting!¡±


    ¡°Girl, Slogine¡­¡± Cammo whispered, both cocking their heads a little closer with eyes focused on the ceiling. ¡°Stick tight.¡±


    They gave him a small nod and stuck a little closer, Slogine holding the handle of his wavy great-sword and Locine opening a small pouch from her pocket.


    ¡°Oops!¡± the voice, one that Cammo could tell now was female, muttered. ¡°Dropped something¡­¡±


    Sir Wulter¡¯s head fell from the dark, his skull cracking on the barren stone and rolling over¡­ It was a fresh kill and blood was still spilling from the stump.


    Oh, fuck¡­ Cammo thought.


    Every wizard¡ªand Slogine¡ªapart from the old lord erupted in their own Glow¡¯s, filling the shadows by them in a flash of color, but none reaching the upside-down sea of black above.


    ¡°You¡­!¡± Joolian started, tearing his eyes from his knight back up to where it fell from. ¡°You fool! You think yourself at an advantage?! It¡¯s six versus one!¡± There was rage in him. ¡°You¡¯ll never leave this room alive!¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯d I come alone if I didn¡¯t think I could handle it alone?¡± the voice asked casually. ¡°You pissed me off, old man! You rejected me, so I needed to sneak around and shit¡­ It was a fucking pain!¡±


    ¡°Who were you?!¡± he called out. There were a number of female candidates, Locine being the only one to pass.


    ¡°The one who died.¡±


    The group stood together at the far side near the throne and corpse, almost fifty feet of barren stone between them and the large red doors that blocked them from the rest of the castle; that¡¯s where the intruder dropped. Her Glow was a light green with a thickness of about four inches, appearing in the middle of her quick descent, allowing her to twist her body mid-air and land from the tall ceiling nimbly into a crouch.


    When she stood up everyone could immediately tell that she was beautiful, even if they didn¡¯t even know what she was. All they knew was that she was a hybrid. She had a slim frame, but Cammo tell her body was trained; her straight, night-black hair hung down to the middle of her back; and her smooth, light-red skin looked like that of a ripe fruit¡­ And her clothing was just as eye-catching, wearing a black skin-tight onesie stopping at her shoulders and the beginning of her thighs, and it did not leave a lot to the imagination. Her face was slightly skinny, her plump lips closed together in the shape of a heart, and her eyes slanted slightly¡ªthat''s what they noticed first above all else. They were black, the solid and dark circles sitting in the middle of the whites of her eyes, watching the group of wizards with amusement. Cammo was looking at a Princess of Darkness in the flesh. She put her hands on her hips and studied them for a moment.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she began, ¡°you, the emp.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Locine asked, confused yet guarded.


    ¡°Not you,¡± the woman muttered, annoyed. ¡°The man.¡±


    Cammo unsheathed his wide and heavy blade and slid on his fetish. ¡°What do you want, Guerriero?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re pretty cute,¡± she said calmly. ¡°If you don¡¯t put up a fight, I won¡¯t hurt you. But if you do¡­ I can¡¯t guarantee I¡¯d be able to hold back¡­¡±


    The emp narrowed his eyes but didn¡¯t say a word. No one said a word.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± she said, ¡°come on. Wasn¡¯t it six versus one? I don¡¯t have all night¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Joolian said. ¡°If she escapes alive, then all is lost¡­ Take her!¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she agreed, an amused grin forming. ¡°Take me¡­ I dare you.¡±


    Wuytr was the first to charge, taking the giant axe on his back and holding it far behind him on his right side, his thick orange Glow flaring as he screamed. The brothers followed after with two-handed iron clubs, their Glows of red and blue separating on either side of the tousk¡¯s, letting out battle-cries.


    ¡°The corpse!¡± Cammo yelled to his Slogine.


    The moon-man caught the message and turned to the lord. ¡°Did you stuff it wax or submerge it?!¡± The cheaper way of keeping a corpse appealing was orthodox taxidermy¡ªwax, wood, cloth to fill the corpse¡ªbut the more popular, yet expensive, option was to submerge the fresh body in a mix of heart-fruit essence and other juices to seal its wounds and suck the moisture from deep within.


    ¡°I submerged the thing!¡± Lord Joolian yelled. ¡°What¡¯s that matter now?!¡±


    The moon-man nodded and opened his mouth, opening a path for the fleshy cannon under his tongue to do its work, and shot a tar-like slug into the corpse''s maw!


    ¡°Oh, Nia!¡± the old man screamed, falling forwards as the long-time decoration started to stand.


    Locine caught him and grabbed his cane, trying to usher him away. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of this, lord! You have to get to safety!¡±


    The old cappella nodded with eyes so wide, they might have been an emps.


    ¡°Alright!¡± Slogine screamed, turning back to the Guerriero. ¡°Sick ¡®em, Evil Dead!¡±


    The demon of rage and hate, standing tall at twenty-five feet of pure muscle, jumped over their heads and charged. Its massive arms cracked the stone like a sheet of ice, using the powerful limbs to propel its body and legs forward as it sprinted on all fours.


    Wuytr made it to the woman and slammed the sharp blade into her waist, hoping to cut her in two before the hybrid could unleash any magic upon them. And for a moment, to everyone''s momentary relief, it seemed like the tousk succeeded.


    But there was no blood.


    ¡°Wow, now this¡¯ll be interesting¡­¡± she said, a quiet joy in her voice. Her body softened and spread like a cloud, a luminescent green light accompanying the fog as it recombined with its lower half. ¡°Possesso: a spell that allows me to possess any corpse and hop bodies if need be¡­ Attacks like that won¡¯t do shit, meat-head.¡±


    ¡°You whore!¡± the tousk yelled, frustrated, swinging his axe in and out of the gas without resistance. ¡°Fight me!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Slogine screamed, understanding his dire mistake. ¡°Evil Dead, get back here!¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± the cloud muttered, rising above the trio of her first attackers. The wrath dug its rough black hands into the stone and stopped himself, starting to turn back. ¡°But it¡¯s too late for that.¡±


    She flew forwards, looping around the demon¡¯s head to its front and flung herself inside.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    4


    It was as quiet as it had been when they first entered the lonely expanse that constituted the lord¡¯s throne room, but the kind of quiet that filled the castle walls was not of curious anticipation; it was fear. Every wizard (and moon-man) held their breath and kept a watchful eye on the fallen corpse sitting between them, a cold sweat gliding down their clammy skin as their Glow¡¯s held steady¡­


    That was a bad move by us, Cammo thought, pointing his sword at the fallen giant. If she took over the corpse (which I¡¯m sure was her plan), then we might¡¯ve been able to take out the body¡ªmight. But Slogine popped a slug in the thing, not that he could have known this would happen¡­ And we might¡¯ve accidentally made her invincible by trying to kill her.


    That nasty thought was based on both pessimistic assumptions and hard facts, the worst combination if they were right. The slug was a product of Slogine¡¯s body, yes, but it also had a mind of its own. It was Evil Dead, the spell, that kept it in check¡­ But that was the question: who ordered the slug now? Was it Slogine? Was it the Guerriero? Or was it the black mollusk burrowing deep inside the flesh of the demon, bringing life to its host? If it was the moon-man, then it was time to celebrate! If it was anything else¡­


    ¡°Evil Dead!¡± Slogine shouted. ¡°Stay down! Stay down and don¡¯t get back up! I command you!¡±


    That¡¯s what would decide it, they all knew. If the command was followed, then all would be good.


    ¡°Sorry for the second time¡­¡± a deep and raspy voice muttered, coming from the corpse. Its right palm flattened against the stone. ¡°But you¡¯ve fucked up bad.¡± The demon¡¯s elbow slowly inclined straight up and the soul inside commanded the flesh to pushed itself up, followed by similar demands of its other limbs until it stood again. ¡°This body¡­ it¡¯s BURSTING with strength! Whatever you did to it, snake-man, thank you! This¡¯ll make it much easier¡­ Not that it¡¯s a very attractive form¡­¡± Its lips peeled back into a smile ten times more hideous than Slogine¡¯s. ¡°Isn¡¯t that funny though? I had no idea that a big brute like this was capable of speech¡­ Guess their brains weren¡¯t developed or something¡­¡± It placed its rough hands on its hips and looked at either side of the room, sending more than a chill down their spines as its beady, red eyes passed over them. It turned back to the throne, back to Cammo. ¡°Looks like it¡¯s your lucky day, I¡¯m just gonna send for you after.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Cammo asked, hiding his fear behind rage. Sir Wulter wasn¡¯t someone he liked or even respected¡­ but he was decent enough and, as far as he knew, innocent. If Cammo was capable he¡¯d make sure she¡¯d pay.


    ¡°Your friends can escape, mostly because I don¡¯t remember their names¡­ But you, I¡¯ll send someone to collect you for me, Cammo,¡± it explained, facing the other three near the large red doors. They raised their weapons half-heartedly and one of the brothers dry swallowed. ¡°You guys, though¡­ You ain¡¯t so lucky. None of you are handsome at all¡­¡±


    ¡°I-I give up!¡± the younger Unigardian said, throwing his smooth iron club to the stone. ¡°We surrender!¡±


    ¡°Bro¡­¡± the other cappella muttered, a look of sadness crossing his face before being replaced by resolve. ¡°Get out of here then¡­ Don¡¯t you know what happens against criminals who commit high treason like this?¡±


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t do anything!¡± he contended, falling to his knees. ¡°She¡¯s got to understand that, right?! I wasn¡¯t even gonna join him, I swear! Honest!¡±


    ¡°You coward!¡± Wuytr said. The tousk turned back to the undead demon and began to approach. ¡°You may be big but I¡¯ve killed bigger¡­ You coming, cappella?¡±


    The older of the two looked at his brother one final time, and turned back to the tousk. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± the tousk stated, striding forwards. The demon walked casually, its thick arms swaying to keep itself from tipping over. ¡°I named my spell, Hiopsititoit. It means ¡®to spin fast¡¯ in touskan¡­¡± He held the head of his weapon close to his face and removed a long segment of dark wood. ¡°Hiopsititoit: anything I touch less than three feet in length spins in the direction of my choosing¡­¡± He tapped the blade with one finger, turning the static metal into a circular blur that slid in and out of the gap in its handle. A high-pitched whir from the wind came along with it. ¡°What can you do, cappella?¡±


    At this point there was about twenty feet between them and the beast, but each second that passed shortened the distance. The ones near the throne could only watch with weapons drawn, Locine and the old man waiting near one of the small gates near the back to see what might happen next.


    ¡°I can make things long, fast,¡± the Unigardian explained. ¡°Graff Days, I call it.¡±


    ¡°Is it deadly?¡±


    ¡°It gets the job done¡­¡± the Unigardian said.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound useful,¡± the demon commented. ¡°Well, both of your spells sound pretty lame¡­ But I won¡¯t judge, I¡¯ve seen lamer.¡±


    The older one of the brothers glanced back. ¡°No, you¡¯re right, it is lame¡­¡± He caught up to the tousk and placed one hand on the shaft of his axe, his back to his new partner. ¡°But like I said, it gets the job done¡­¡±


    The handle lengthened with the speed of a crossbow bolt, the spinning blade at the end cutting the demon''s throat in a spray of black blood! The thing fell backwards, and the handle shortened, the saw clean as it violently threw the juices of its attack into a fine mist.


    Wuytr grinned, a plume of steam pouring out of the nose-holes of his tusk. ¡°What is your name, cappella?¡±


    ¡°Jamothy,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Jamothy.¡±


    ¡°Run!¡± Slogine said from across the hall. ¡°The slugs I give birth to¡­ they take damage and improve on it! She¡¯s gonna get back up!¡±


    The two looked over and then back at each other. ¡°Doesn¡¯t change a thing,¡± Wuytr muttered, his powerful voice carrying itself throughout the empty air. ¡°Now go. An evacuation is in order. Of the whole valley I¡¯m guessing.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Jamothy agreed, the demon rising again. ¡°We¡¯ll hold her off.¡±


    ¡°Brother!¡± the young one behind him yelled, his blue Glow thinning. ¡°You¡¯ll die!¡±


    ¡°Get out of here, you disappointment,¡± his older brother commanded. ¡°You can¡¯t take me with you and you don¡¯t have the balls to help. Just go and warn the castle and townspeople.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª!¡±


    The shaft of Jamothy¡¯s club shot into his brother¡¯s chest, knocking him back into the giant red door! The young cappella staggered up to his hands and knees, coughing and gripping his chest¡­ ¡°Every second each of you watch is another second wasted¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Wuytr grinned, resting the shaft of his weapon upon his broad right shoulder. ¡°Best get a move on. I don¡¯t see this ending well.¡±


    The demon didn¡¯t look happy with their attack, its black hand gripping the front of its thick throat. ¡°That won¡¯t kill me.¡± It let the hand fall to its side, revealing the vibrant red muscle hiding beneath. It smiled. ¡°I get the feeling nothing can¡­ And let me tell you, it¡¯s a pretty good feeling.¡±


    Cammo sheathed his weapon. ¡°They won¡¯t be able to hold her off for long¡­ Locine, Slogine, Joolian; we¡¯re retreating.¡±


    Locine didn¡¯t even nod, using the time to help the old man out of the room and into the maze of halls that made up the castle. Slogine tied his own wavy sword to the thickest portion of his tail underneath his abdomen and left with her. Cammo watched the demon take its slow, casual steps toward the wizards, staying for just a moment. The younger brother opened the small door within the giant red one and escaped through it, weeping like a child. Jamothy didn¡¯t look back. Thank you, Cammo thought, knowing that he¡¯d never see those brave strangers again. I won¡¯t waste this.


    He jumped for the door and slammed it behind himself, joining the others¡­


    5


    ¡°M-M¡¯lord!¡± a guard blurted out upon seeing the group approach.


    The other one paired with the first drew his sword, suspicious eyes cast upon the group accompanying him. ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?!¡±


    ¡°Lower your weapon,¡± Joolian commanded, his tired voice barely carrying itself over the quiet. ¡°Your names, tell me¡­ your names¡­¡±


    ¡°Uh, Mickel, m¡¯lord,¡± the first one answered.


    The other shoved his sword into its sheath. ¡°Peetr, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Set me down on the floor¡­¡± Joolian told the lady emp. She did as he bid and positioned him near the wall, letting the old man slide down to the floor as she held onto his shoulder. He gave her a wan smile in thanks. ¡°Mickel, Peetr, we¡¯ve been attacked.¡±


    ¡°By whom, my lord?¡± Peetr asked, kneeling down.


    ¡°By a Guerriero,¡± Cammo said. The secret was out already, or was going to be out in moments. ¡°Lord Joolian¡¯s a Gouger.¡±


    Both the guards let their jaws fall as they stared at their lord, more than shocked.


    The lord answered their ensuing and inevitable questions with a simple nod. ¡°Go warn everyone¡­ Start an evacuation¡­¡± He took off a ring¡ªone with his house¡¯s sigil that he¡¯d use to legitimize letters¡ªand placed it in Peetr¡¯s hand. ¡°This will¡­ be your proof¡­ And remember, no matter what state you see me in, these people are not the enemies¡­ Now go!¡±


    Cammo wondered what he meant by the end of it.


    ¡°As you wish, my lord,¡± Peetr stated, and stood up. ¡°Come. Mickel.¡±


    ¡°But what about m¡¯lord? We can¡¯t just leave him here!¡± the other guard said.


    The old lord stopped him. ¡°This is my fault. It¡¯s my duty to try and solve it¡­ Go, hurry! There isn¡¯t a moment to lose!¡±


    Peetr grabbed Mickel by the armor on his forearm and pulled him away violently. ¡°Come on! We¡¯ve no time to waste!¡±


    And they went and disappeared behind a corner at the end of the hall, the old one watching them go before turning back to the male emp. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ She knows¡­ your name and it''s¡­ my fault¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault!¡± Locine said, kneeling down beside him. ¡°It¡¯s just bad luck¡­ that¡¯s all it is¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Cammo said. He could spend the rest of the night furious at the cappella for dragging him into his mess, but that wouldn¡¯t solve anything. She knows my name, Cammo knew. If she knew his name, they¡¯d come for him. ¡°Slogine, like the woman said, you can leave.¡± He turned to the girl. ¡°You can too. This looks like it¡¯s my problem¡­¡±


    Slogine grinned his horrible grin. ¡°Nope¡±


    Cammo sighed and lowered his masked head. ¡°I thought you¡¯d say that.¡±


    ¡°We still have a chance! If we can take her out before she tells them your name, we¡¯ll be unknown again,¡± the grey snake explained. ¡°We need to do something. She could level the entire valley with that body of hers! The body I gave her!¡±


    ¡°I already know that,¡± Cammo muttered, agitated at the hopelessness of it all. ¡°Joolian, are you really the only wizard here?¡±


    The lord answered with an ashamed nod. ¡°I¡¯m no good for politics¡­ I never had the¡­ influence for¡­ magical knights¡­ Sir Wulter was my¡­ most skilled¡­ Right now¡­ you are our only hope¡­ Only prevention¡­ against a massacre¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on!¡± Locine yelled, gathering their attention. ¡°We have to win! No matter what! Just drill that into your brain before we head off! Even if we don¡¯t win, we can still buy time!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®we¡¯?¡± Cammo questioned.


    ¡°I can¡¯t just abandon this place, triangle face,¡± she said, fishing around her small pouch. ¡°Lord Joolian¡¯s right! We¡¯re the last line of defense. If we don¡¯t step in¡­¡±


    ¡°But what can you do?¡± Slogine asked, not out of disbelief but a necessary curiosity.


    ¡°I can kill her,¡± she claimed, holding up a striped cone of purple and black. ¡°With this.¡±


    Cammo wanted to know more but the lord decided to say, ¡°Killing is her your¡­ only option¡­ You can¡¯t¡­ just¡­ just keep her busy¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°The people¡­ must enter through the¡­ castle for the¡­ escape routes¡­¡± he strained himself to say. ¡°If she pushes¡­ them to the fields¡­ then¡­ then¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be sitting ducks,¡± Cammo said. He could practically imagine the faces of the refugees when Guerriero troops appeared on the horizon. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can count on the other cappella¡­ I don¡¯t even remember his name, on helping. So it makes no sense wasting time.¡±


    A rumble spread throughout the stone, causing small trails of dust and pieces of loose stone to fall from the ceiling.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s wasting time either,¡± Slogine thought aloud. ¡°She¡¯s gonna tear the place apart!¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s hurry,¡± Cammo said.


    Locine stood up. ¡°Right!¡±


    They started back the way they came.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Lord Joolian said, making all three of the town''s heroes jump up in fright. ¡°Slogine¡­ I may be old and weak¡­ but¡­ I have¡­ an idea¡­¡±


    6


    Columns of solid stone fell through the floor of the throne room, poking long chasms through the hall, black blood staining the grey. It was complete carnage all around. That was how the two wizards and the demon of wrath left the throne room after their battle¡­ The room didn¡¯t seem quite so free anymore; it seemed cramped. Piles of rubble formed small hills and the roof caved in, only staying a roof because both sides fell into each other, suspending themselves above to dispense small trails of dust and rock. We¡¯re all gonna die, Cammo thought dully, his masked head craning up at the destruction. Whatever, it¡¯s a fine night to die. It didn¡¯t take long for the emp and his companions to find the two men who stayed behind. One was a puddle of red smeared across a wall, and the other was two feet stuck in its boots (Cammo guessed they were the tousk¡¯s).


    ¡°Wow,¡± was the only thing Locine managed to say.


    ¡°Any idea where she went?¡± Slogine asked.


    They looked at him with distaste for a moment. ¡°Now¡¯s not the time for jokes,¡± Cammo muttered, glaring. ¡°Have some respect.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the first thing we should be asking!¡± he said, confused and upset. ¡°If we don¡¯t stop her soon, she¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    Locine realized his mistake and pointed to the far side, where the red doors had been. He stopped when he saw the thing reduced to red splinters, similar destruction making a trail far into the halls after.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said simply.


    A rumbling came through again and all of them looked at the cracked ceiling, half-expecting the place to fall in and crush them flat before they even reached the invincible monster. But that didn¡¯t happen. It held.


    ¡°What do you need to do, Locine?¡± Cammo asked, training his sights back on the splintered remains of the gate. ¡°What do you have to do to kill her? What do you need to make it work?¡±


    ¡°Just a big wound, something deep,¡± she explained. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if the thing seals quickly. If I can get this seed¡­¡± She held up the spiral of purple and black which she had been gripping tightly in her right hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if the hole closes a second later¡­ As long as I get it inside.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Cammo said, ¡°then my life is in your hands. So¡¯s Slogine¡¯s. You better not miss.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she said, her pretty face determined. Cammo decided she had a very, very pretty face. In fact, he thought she was angelic. ¡°Don¡¯t forget that it¡¯s my life too.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he answered. ¡°Let¡¯s get down to it then.¡± He walked along the most whole section of the floor, careful not to place any of his weight near the edge. ¡°We¡¯ve got a town to save.¡±


    7


    The woman left a trail for them to follow, one of bodies and cracked stone. And soon enough, in the middle of the dining hall they first ate in, they found her. The demon¡¯s mountain-like back was to them as they entered silently, its body covered almost head to toe in the lively red that the slug inside used to fill its injuries. It was more powerful, then, and they all knew it. The corpses of guards and knights strewn about the place was proof enough¡­ even if they might not have been able to much anyways.


    ¡°This place is a fucking maze!¡± it complained, still facing away. ¡°This body¡¯s too powerful! Every time I try to take one alive, they just¡­!¡± It stomped its right foot over and over upon the castle floor, sending out the rumbling the other three felt before. ¡°Fucking shit! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!¡±


    A temper, huh? That isn¡¯t heartening¡­ We have one shot at this, Cammo thought, going over their meager plan one last time as he inched closer, drawing his sword so slowly that it didn¡¯t make a sound. Slogine used all his mana on that huge thing and the other one now¡­ All he can do is bring up a Glow. That¡¯s fine. And my spell¡¯s not that great either, even if it comes from a fetish¡­ It¡¯s up to Locine and him now. We just need to make an opening; just a second¡­ Twenty seconds is probably all it¡¯ll take to create that window.


    The moment Cammo and the two others were in position¡ªSlogine on his left, Locine behind¡ªhe put up three fingers. One, he thought, dropping his ring finger. Two, and the middle fell. Three! his index coming into his closed fist as it gripped the handle of his sword.


    They charged. Cammo brought his blade across the back of the demon¡¯s foot, severing the tendon, as Slogine did the same to the other with his own sword. Locine hung back and kneeled on one knee, her left hand under her right to hold it up as she took aim. Her bullet sat at the end of her right hand, just behind the thumb, ready to be flicked into the hole that was planned to appear very soon. The two continued their offense quickly, slicing the back of the demon¡¯s knees, both attacks so fast that the only utterance that came was that of surprised pain. It fell onto its hands as its legs gave out. ¡°YOU¡ª!¡± the demon started to say. The two comrades, hardened and bonded by blood, sprinted to the head as quick as their Glow¡¯s would allow, and chopped at its neck in a synchronous, beautiful motion that Locine took only a second to marvel at before steadying her hand again. The head rolled off and the body fell limp. Seven seconds had passed.


    Locine¡¯s hands stayed steady as she watched the two run across its broad back, taking chunks out of the beast as they did¡­ But they weren¡¯t deep enough. She needed something deeper.


    The muscle beneath them started to churn, and sensing danger, they jumped off. It pushed itself up one more time, the stump on its head sealing as it stood on two legs once more. Cammo knew what would happen next and grit his teeth, turning his body to stone as Slogine slithered away, his upper body low as he dragged the sword along. And then the blood came bubbling out of its open neck, covering the entirety of the open wound. Five more seconds had passed.


    Muscle, tendon, and bone exploded out of the blood as if its head had burst open from a great blunt force; but that''s not what happened. It had healed. An amalgamation of black eyes, teeth without jaws, and mouths sprouted from the cylindrical and fleshy red lump that was not its head. It¡¯d be able to attack them in just a moment, but neither of the three felt fear. Fear would only come if the plan failed. It was no longer the demon of wrath, borne from Hell, inside Satan¡¯s stomach. It was becoming something much worse¡­ ¡°You fucked up,¡± it claimed. And five seconds had passed.


    They ignored the choked and croaky words that escaped the muscled mass and attacked again, both blades held high. Its arm came quick and slapped Cammo far across the room, just as if it had batted away a fly! His sword fell into one of the few un-splintered sections of the table as the rest of his body collided into stone, cracking it and embedding himself within a wall¡­ With the same arm it used to swat away the emp, it brought the elbow back into Slogine. He was luckier than his companion as his sword deflected the damage upwards, only a fraction of its momentum sending him scraping against the floor to a stop¡­ but it was enough to render him unconscious. The beast turned towards the girl, then. Two seconds had passed.


    ¡°You¡¯re the last one left,¡± it said, its unpleasant voice stained with involuntary croaks and chirps. ¡°How does that feel?¡±


    Locine didn¡¯t answer. She only smiled. It was still going according to plan.


    Doors sat in almost every section of the dining area and the one closest to the demon exploded into wooden planks, something brown and red running with speed towards the demon came pouring out. The mysterious creature, a blur, jumped towards its chest.


    That¡¯s when the woman behind the demon¡¯s eyes could see her attacker and almost gasped¡ªLord Joolian had entered the scene, new muscles of vibrant red aiding him in one final mission. The old lord shoved its claw-like hands into the beast chest and started to dig!


    8


    ¡°Do what you¡­¡± Joolian began, taking a moment to draw more breath in, ¡°did to the demon¡­ to¡­ to¡­ me¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Slogine asked, lowering himself to the dying man¡¯s level.


    ¡°Use your¡­ mutation or¡­ spell¡­ or¡­ whatever combination is¡­ necessary¡­¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± the grey snake began, ¡°it¡¯ll only work if you die, my lord. And even then, you¡¯ll be under my control, a moon-man¡¯s control¡­ Do you really want that?¡±


    The old man looked at him with great determination and nodded. And Cammo thought he could see the young man that once piloted those old bones, if only for a second¡­ ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­ I¡­ I¡­ need to¡­ I need to do this.¡±


    Slogine nodded.


    9


    The red-brown thing rip and tore a huge cavity in the demon¡¯s chest, just before the monster grabbed it, squeezed it¡ªan action that pushed out whatever internal organs had been left after the transformation out of its mouth and eyes¡ªand slammed it into the ground!


    Locine fired, sending the little seed right into the hole, and let out the air she¡¯d been holding in. Just like every other injury, it was sealed by more red.


    ¡°That scared me a little,¡± it claimed, touching the spot where it¡¯d been ripped open. ¡°And it hurt!¡± It turned its grotesque head back to the girl who had been starting to stand. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for that you¡­ you¡­ little¡­¡± Its speech slowed and was replaced with grunts of pain, the giant starting to hunch forward and grip its chest, its breathing growing heavier with every passing second. ¡°W-what¡¯s happening?!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a plant in Gardens¡¯ Crater called the flesh-burster,¡± Locine said, knowing that they¡¯d triumphed. There were a hundred things that could¡¯ve gone wrong with it¡­ but nothing did. That to her was reason enough to feel happiness despite the destruction. ¡°It burrows in open wounds, taking the time to gather nutrients in little sacs within its host¡¯s body, before launching roots all around and killing it¡­ That¡¯s its nutrient source, see? I wouldn¡¯t even call it a plant, even. It¡¯s more like a parasite¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you little¡­¡±


    ¡°You already tried saying that,¡± Locine reminded her. ¡°And I¡¯m not giving you the chance to finish¡­¡± The roots began to spread from the enlarged cone of its seed, zigging and zagging through bundles of flesh and walls of bone, until reaching their target¡ªthe slug. The demon started to moan in pain. ¡°They also kill any other parasites living within the body¡­ You see, the main prey of the Garden are pretty big, so they can handle a rodent-sized parasite or two. ¡®Cause after all, it¡¯s all nutrients, right? Parasites and hosts alike.¡±


    ¡°NO! NO! NO!¡± it protested, the black balls on its head bulging out as it dug all claws into its chest in search of the parasite. ¡°SHIT! SHIT! SHIII¡ª!¡±


    Locine snapped her fingers just as the roots stabbed into the foul thing, cutting off the demon¡¯s final curse. It slowly fell forwards the way a massive tree would, the weight of its head smashing into the floor with a great thud.


    10


    Locine fell to her knees, breathing heavily as the yellow light that made up her Glow fell away¡­ She could barely see straight, let alone keep herself upright, so she fell forwards and narrowly avoided a concussion by throwing her left hand under her skull to cushion the fall. Sleep almost took her by the time ten seconds passed, but something stopped it¡ªgreen light. She looked up and saw a green fog float upwards through the demon¡¯s back, materializing right in front of the fallen emp. The woman was a woman again, and she did not seem happy.


    The distance between the two disappeared in an instant as the woman rushed her, planting her boot right into Locine¡¯s left shoulder! ¡°Bitch!¡± the Guerriero yelled, delivering another kick into the emp¡¯s side. ¡°Stupid fucking bitch!¡± She held her foot high above the girl before stomping on her back, feeling the rebound of her ribs push it away as Locine started to gasp for air. ¡°S-stay there!¡± the woman growled, her pretty head whirling around in search of something. She smiled when she saw the short sword of one of the guards she killed, and ran over to grab it, her black eyes blind to everything but the beaten emp on the ground. ¡°You¡¯re dead as shit,¡± she claimed, hurrying over with the blade. Locine summoned the last of her strength in one final jump, the way a maggot would squirm off rotting flesh the moment another scavenger started to feast, and tried to get away from the falling weapon¡ªshe was close, but not close enough. The tip of the sword cut through the length of her back, forcing out what might¡¯ve been the last scream of Locine¡¯s short life as the black-eyed woman pulled her arm back to stab her dead, and the tall woman tried¡ªand failed.


    The wide metal of Cammo¡¯s blade fell hard on the back of her head, splitting her once beautiful face in half. Her attack flew to the left of her target, taking her along with it as she sprawled onto the grey stone, painting it with her own fresh wound.


    11


    ¡°Finally¡­¡± Cammo groaned, dropping his heavy sword and using the free arm to grip the broken one. He was alive thanks to the stone he summoned to replace his soft flesh, but iron could break iron, gems could smash gems, and stone broke stone¡­ He¡¯d been broken in more than just an arm. ¡°Hey¡­ Slogine¡¯s fine¡­ You okay?¡± he asked, suddenly very aware that his labored tone resembled the old man¡¯s as he fell to his knees. ¡°Hey¡­ answer me¡­¡±


    Locine was reduced to heavy breathing and drawn moans of pain as she writhed on the floor, gripping the wounds in her side. ¡°Just¡­ stop talking¡­ Too loud¡­!¡±


    Cammo smiled as he sat down. She was fine Slogine was fine. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, ripping off his mask. ¡°We¡¯re all okay¡­¡±

 Feather Falling

    1


    ¡°And that''s how I met your mother,¡± Cammo finished, taking a final sip of his hot chocolate. ¡°And ended up here after running a long time¡­ The old man had never written down our names for obvious reasons, but that woman already made them known. We changed them and went together as a group after that. Battle having a way of bringing people together.¡±


    Vincenzo and Plum just stared at him. ¡°Did you really need to tell us every detail?¡± the teenager questioned. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid.¡±


    Plum snuck worried glances at Vincenzo.


    ¡°Is that really all you have to say?¡± Cammo asked, putting his cup aside.


    Plum just kept turning between them, looking anxious.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Vincenzo answered coldly. ¡°What''s wrong with you, Plum? It was a crazy story, sure, but you look sick.¡±


    ¡°H-he killed your sister, or cousin, or niece, or whatever she was!¡± she said. ¡°She was your family!¡±


    Vincenzo didn¡¯t answer for a minute, thinking of what to say. When the answer came, he turned towards the man and said, ¡°Good job.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Cammo replied.


    ¡°Why?¡± Plum asked. ¡°Why ¡®good job¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Did she kill a bunch of people for no reason?¡± Vincenzo asked. ¡°Well, ¡®no reason¡¯ is a bad way to describe it¡­ Did she kill a bunch of people for bad reasons?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°That''s why. People like that should just die. I have one dad and his name is Marco,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Blood isn¡¯t everything.¡±


    The night air bit into the three of them as the fire started to dim.


    ¡°I see¡­¡± she muttered, as her joyful attitude returned. ¡°So it isn''t that you don''t care about people related to you, it was just because she was evil.¡±


    ¡°Yep, pretty much,¡± he said, and drank the last of his now cool drink. ¡°What are those goat-people anyway?¡±


    ¡°Cappellas, the original men of Overworld before the blood moon appeared,¡± Cammo explained, readying his hide sleeping bag. ¡°The other species come from their own respective craters.¡±


    ¡°Oh! So you guys are practically aliens,¡± said Vincenzo.


    ¡°In a way¡­¡± Cammo mumbled, slipping inside. ¡°But aliens are something else entirely¡­¡±


    Vincenzo wanted to know what he meant by that desperately, but kept his mouth shut, figuring that, with how the emp was divulging information now, answers would come in time. His head had started to pulsate within his skull again¡­ Time was short; he needed to get Plum to bed so he could ¡°sleep¡± too.


    ¡°So, what''s this braid for again?¡± Vincenzo questioned.


    ¡°It''s a Blood Braid,¡± she explained, her face growing a darker shade. He realized she was blushing. ¡°Mama said that if someone braids your hair and ties it in the middle with a drop of their own blood, then they become family.¡±


    ¡°Huh, that''s a weird custom¡­¡± Vincenzo commented.


    ¡°I don''t know where it comes from¡­ or even why it''s done,¡± she said, growing even more embarrassed. She had good reason to; it was a strange thing by itself, but it was an even stranger thing to ask. ¡°But I still want to do it. Vincenzo, do you wanna be my older brother? It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t¡­ I can still untie it at the top and just wear my hair in two tails if you want¡­¡±


    Vincenzo smiled. ¡°Yeah, why not? It''s not like I have any real family anymore¡­¡± It¡¯s not like I actually care either. But I won¡¯t stop you, it¡¯d be a cruel thing to do. In his mind, he wouldn¡¯t be sticking around long. That hadn¡¯t changed. The moment she was safe, he was gone.


    ¡°It''s decided!¡± Plum said with a grin, before turning to her father. ¡°And you''re fine with it?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Cammo grunted. It seemed like an assent. That was a surprise.


    ¡°It''s fine¡­¡± she muttered. ¡°Now stab yourself and drop the blood!¡±


    ¡°Kay,¡± Vincenzo said. He stabbed the tip of his thumb with a small dagger.


    The tiny drop landed in her braid as the wound closed; he tied them together using a small amount of sticky red to help keep them bound.


    ¡°Okay!¡± she yelled, a huge smile sitting on her face. ¡°I¡¯ll go to bed now¡­¡±


    She crept into her bag, said goodnight, and fell asleep a second later¡­ What a skill, he thought. I wish I could fall asleep that quick.


    The thumping in his head was strong, but he felt something else too. A fluttery and warm sensation in his heart, one that filled him with a feeling he might never manage to put into words. But he felt empty, too.


    He wanted to sleep, or whatever equivalent Cammo could provide. Cammo formed his Glow and sat up before he clocked the moon-man hard across the face, dislocating his jaw and knocking a few teeth loose.


    Vincenzo went to ¡°bed.¡±


    2


    The rising sun was the first thing to wake him, piercing through the skin of his eyelids and painting his view red. He rose and opened them, muttering something under his breath. It was much warmer than the previous night, making him sweat beneath all the extra layers he wore.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± Plum greeted.


    Her hair was straight again.


    ¡°Good morning¡­¡± he groaned, stretching his back.


    Cammo said, ¡°We¡¯ll leave Plum alone when it reaches noon, then we¡¯ll go off alone and take care of business. She¡¯ll join us after.¡±


    ¡°How do you know we''re close?¡±


    ¡°This is the end of Fall, moon-man,¡± the emp explained. ¡°Winter is long, and rest is necessary. They¡¯re most likely waiting for us at the entrance.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Vincenzo said, glancing over at the girl. ¡°Does she know why she¡¯s hanging back?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know. You guys have to fight someone, right?¡± she asked.


    Vincenzo nodded. ¡°Yep¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll wish you luck later,¡± she mumbled. ¡°For now, I want to know what siblings are¡­¡±


    Cammo kicked the flame into the abyss as Vincenzo put his heavy pack on again, and they began to walk.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Vincenzo questioned, standing just behind her as they slowly moved along the branches. ¡°Don¡¯t you already know?¡±


    ¡°Well, I know what a mother is to a daughter, what a father is to a daughter¡ªbut not what a brother is to a sister, or the other way around¡­¡± she admitted. ¡°I wanted you to be my brother either way¡­ Plus, it sounds cool. What do you think a brother is?¡±


    ¡°Don''t ask me,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve never had any siblings.¡±


    Cammo chimed in: ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°It''s something that you really shouldn''t worry about. You''ll come across the answer on your own,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I think¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Plum said. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°You seemed kind of sick these last couple of days¡­¡± Plum commented. ¡°Are you still cursed?¡±


    Vincenzo was a little surprised. He thought, And here I was thinking I was being sneaky about it¡­ Very observant, Plum. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± he said. He was, for the moment, so it was just a half-lie.


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Plum didn¡¯t seem like she was buying it.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°You can chop off my head and I¡¯d still be fine! I¡¯m immortal, baby! A little light show isn''t gonna mess with me.¡±


    That was a full lie.


    3


    They moved slowly along the wood, chatting about nothing in particular, but enjoying the time. The wind was calm and the sun hovered high, turning the usually chilly area much warmer than usual¡ªgood for lighter clothing, and lighter clothing that allowed for better mobility. It was that kind of thinking that dominated Vincenzo''s mind as the sun rose. It¡¯s high noon, he knew, looking up. It¡¯s time.


    ¡°By my math: it¡¯s a five-minute walk until the exit,¡± Cammo said, stopping. ¡°This is where we say goodbye for now. Plum, Vincenzo will come for you after.¡±


    She did something that wasn''t quite a pout; she looked more worried than anything. ¡°Okay¡­¡± Plum said. ¡°Good luck, you two! Be back soon!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll be back before you know it!¡± Vincenzo said. He kept his pack unlike Cammo. ¡°I¡¯ll take good care of him, okay?¡±


    Plum stared at him before averting her gaze, giving him a small nod. They went off. Vincenzo thought it was strange, but he had other things to worry about. Like a fight to the death. Like a fight to the death where he couldn¡¯t even hurt his challenger. Frey was who was on his mind.


    4


    They disappeared amongst the massive columns of wood as she stared, wondering to herself:


    Why did he bring his pack? Why is everything they do a secret? Why can¡¯t I know? I know they¡¯re hiding something from me¡­ Something big. Cammo lied to me. I know he did. That got her angry. And whatever he¡¯s hiding, it¡¯s got to do with me.


    She put her pack back on. ¡°And I¡¯m going to find out what!¡±


    5


    Vincenzo brushed away some leaves gathering on the top of his pack before removing a smaller bag from inside. He started to drag out different items: preserved foods, water in empty booze bottles, spare clothing ripped from the corpses before, some other survival supplies¡­ and a sizable leather bag.


    ¡°What''s that for?¡± Cammo asked, sharpening the thick edge of his blade.


    ¡°For Frey,¡± he answered, dropping the larger pack and bringing the small along. ¡°Seeing as how you''re gonna break her legs, we should probably leave some supplies for her¡­ After all, we have a surplus.¡±


    ¡°Vincenzo,¡± Cammo said, turning over to face the pale moon-man. It was a move that he¡¯d rarely use when speaking, choosing more often than not to converse with sideways glances or flat out none at all.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°The moment your choice gets us killed, I''m killing you.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡±


    ¡°I also want to know¡­¡± Cammo said, ¡°why don''t you want to hurt women? You don¡¯t seem to have a very just character.¡±


    Blunt but true, Vincenzo thought. He didn¡¯t want to explain, but he and Cammo¡ªwhether they liked it or not, and they didn¡¯t¡ªwere about to fight alongside each other, and Vincenzo had already threatened to leave if he did not comply with his demands. Might as well spill his guts.


    ¡°Since you spent so long last night with your story, I¡¯ll make mine quick¡­¡± Vincenzo started. Cammo moved his attention to the woody path. ¡°I wanted peace, revenge, and gratification.¡± His pale face grew distant and his eyes dull. ¡°I had nightmares every night¡­ So I did some real fucked up shit to end it. Alice, my¡­ um¡­ girlfriend, died because of it. I don¡¯t want to hurt a woman again. Ever. You can understand that much, can¡¯t you?¡±


    Cammo studied his grim expression. ¡°So, you regret it?¡±


    ¡° ¡®Course,¡± the moon-man answered. ¡°I¡¯d kill myself, but I¡¯m not a fan of suicide. But that doesn''t mean I have to keep myself out of danger. If you think I¡¯m a monster: that''s fine, I think so too.¡±


    ¡°That''s all well and good, but you can''t die now,¡± Cammo stated. ¡°Plum would be sad if you did.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? Didn''t you hear my story?¡±


    The emp walked over to him. ¡°Yeah, you''re a monster¡­ But I¡¯ve met a lot of men like you. Women too. Moon-men too¡­¡± Cammo said, slamming his hand on Vincenzo¡¯s high shoulder. ¡°People who¡¯ve done horrible things¡­ people who regret them. Vincenzo, I believe in redemption.¡±


    He patted Vincenzo¡¯s shoulder twice and turned, continuing down the hard branch¡­ Vincenzo watched him in silence, the only emotion on his face was shock before he slowly began to chuckle.


    ¡°What''s so funny?¡± Cammo muttered, still facing forward.


    ¡°Nothing, you just propped up some death flags¡­ That''s the same thing my father said before he died,¡± Vincenzo giggled, knowing it wasn¡¯t something to giggle about. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± He regained his cool. ¡°I was just thinking to myself, Man, way to jinx it.¡±


    Cammo clicked his tongue. ¡°You did too, exposing yourself like that¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey, Cammo.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Thanks for calling me a monster,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°It¡¯s something I think I always like to hear.¡±


    6


    Frey and Buta moved their cargo aside, getting ready for the imminent encounter. Buta¡¯s spell was useful that way, feeding her information on the moon-man¡¯s whereabouts. She moved her cloak aside, wearing thin yet flexible black leather, and began to stretch. Frey extended her wings, flapping them as a light exercise as she did the same, while also arching her back and grabbing her toes to stretch both her back and legs. Buta took one final gulp of water while keeping a vigilant eye on the branches ahead.


    She unsheathed her twin blades. ¡°Frey?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Frey grabbed her large iron club by its handle and raised it as if it weighed nothing, resting it on her shoulder. The clock over her head began to tick to the right, filling the area it passed over green, and stopped as she set the weapon back down with a thump.


    ¡°Nothing¡­ I was just thinking of how adult you look,¡± Buta said, grinning.


    Frey didn''t have it in her to smile at her, only responding with a small nod.


    ¡°Actually, there''s something else too,¡± said Buta. ¡°This change in personality¡­ It doesn''t just happen overnight. For all your life, you''ve been anxious, a little cowardly, and open¡­ And now¡­ you''re like a completely different person¡­¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the time, Buta. Stay on the subject at hand.¡±


    Buta looked shocked. It wasn¡¯t something the avilop had ever done before. She was always such a sweet, kind girl, Buta thought.


    ¡°You¡¯d never understand how much he meant to me¡­¡± Frey claimed, turning away. Gult was her first protector. He was the first one to take her in and provide her with something other than a cage to rot in. The man who killed him, Guerriero or not, was going to pay.


    Silence passed between them just like the falling leaves, and Buta knew that she was almost too far gone. Frey was getting wrapped up in herself.


    ¡°Hey!¡± a familiar voice called.


    They both turned to its direction, seeing two men stand in the middle of a branch eighty feet away. It was time.


    ¡°Come on¡­¡± Frey said.


    A thin, amber-colored Glow enveloped her. She grabbed Buta with one hand and held the heavy metal of the club with the other, and flew to the opposite end of that branch¡­


    7


    Vincenzo¡¯s confident smile faded for just a moment before he regained his composure. Cammo kept his rocky look steady as they approached, only unsheathing his blade.


    ¡°Hey,¡± the pale one greeted, throwing the cloth bag aside and keeping the leather one. He pulled two shells out of a pouch already strapped to his waist. Heavy Metal was in his white hands and Frey was about to move¡­ ¡°Hold up, let''s set up some rules here.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Frey said. Just looking at her, it was easy to tell she was itching to bite into him. She was small, and thin, and not at all threatening, but she felt dangerous.


    Don¡¯t let her looks fool you, he thought. Cammo¡¯s a bean-pole but he could kick your ass eight times over. Wizards are weird like that. ¡°Because you want to kill me,¡± Vincenzo pointed out. ¡°Emphasis on you. You want to be the one to put me in the dirt. So let¡¯s do it. Me versus you. Drive-way-skinned bitch versus Cammo.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Frey, don''t listen to this, he¡¯s just goading you!¡± drive-way-skinned bitch said, taking a step forward.


    Frey grabbed onto her shoulder. ¡°No.¡±


    The four-eyed freak stared at her.


    ¡°He¡¯s absolutely right,¡± said Frey. ¡°I want to be the one to do it, and it has to be me¡ªonly me.¡±


    Vincenzo smiled even wider, loading both of the wooden shells. ¡°So, I have your word we won''t interfere in the other matchup?¡± he asked, tying his other leather bag to his waist as well. ¡°We agree on that?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said.


    The four-eyed freak grabbed her by her bicep and pulled her close. ¡°Frey!¡± she whisper-screamed. ¡°Mind¡¯s Tumor hit him, but as you can see, he¡¯s completely fine! On the other hand, all I¡¯ve got is my Glow to defend myself! We need to be together! We¡¯re giving up too much¡­¡±


    Vincenzo could hear every word. Sound traveled far.


    ¡°Don''t worry, Buta,¡± Frey whispered back. ¡°I¡¯ll tear him apart and come to help you the moment it''s done.¡±


    Buta¡ªthat was her name, he heard¡ªseemed to feel like arguing more, but ended up dropping it the same way she dropped Frey¡¯s arm. Everything was going exactly according to plan, as bad a plan as it was.


    ¡°We¡¯ll fight how you want!¡± Frey yelled. ¡°You better keep your word.¡±


    ¡°Perfect!¡± Vincenzo smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about a thing, I keep my promises.¡±


    Cammo¡¯s Glow covered him as he jumped to a neighboring branch without a word. Buta followed. Vincenzo was more than a little jealous of their mobility as he watched them disappear from sight, hopping over the black below with ease and a speed he could barely follow with his eyes, until they disappeared amongst the great wood just a moment later. Damn, I gotta learn how to do that¡­ he thought, before turning to the pink bird-girl. But first, I have to figure her out.


    It was another non-human thing that stood on two legs and spoke, and he was getting a little tired of interacting with non-human things. Why is she pink? was one of his first thoughts. What is she wearing? was the second. It was warmer than it¡¯d been the night before, but it was still as cold as chilled shit in his opinion, and the girl was wearing what looked like one layer; a thin, almost ethereal, white linen that hung loose in many places, and he could almost see the bubble-gum pink of her skin through her arms. It was an outfit that didn¡¯t really leave a lot to the imagination. Isn¡¯t she cold? If she is, she¡¯s doing a good job of hiding it, he reflected. But that wasn¡¯t what his black eyes found so interesting¡ªthe golden scales running from her forearm to her hand and from her shins to the end of her toes, they were the strangest part, and so were the talons sitting on the end. Even her large emerald eyes that were very round¡ªones that reminded him of an owl¡¯s¡ªseemed quaint in comparison to the pink-feathered wings that stretched far on either side of her. She looked like angel. Stop gawking, dumbass, his higher mind ordered. It¡¯s time to get down to business.


    Alright, he agreed. I¡¯ll do just that.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°That bat is way too big. It''s fake, right? Like paper mach¨¦ or something? Because even I couldn¡¯t hold that thing up, and you flew over here like it didn¡¯t weigh a thing¡­ So, what¡¯s the deal?¡±


    Frey grinned¡ªit was the kind of grin someone would wear when hiding a delicious little secret, or catching someone in their trap, thinking to themselves, Oh, I got you now!¡ªwhile holding the hunk of iron up like it weighed nothing.


    ¡°I don''t like the look of that smi¡ª¡±


    The twenty feet between turned to three in an instant as Frey swung for him with her wings spread! Vincenzo fired at its bottom of the club, narrowly ducking as it flew over his head with a terrifying WHIFF!


    No time for small talk, he knew, also knowing that his head would¡¯ve come off had he not landed his shot. His shot also managed to get her to back off, if only for a moment. The angel eyed him with caution and blew the hair hanging in front of one to the side, laying the heavy metal of her club on the wood beside her. Then she was ready again.


    She flapped her wings twice, shooting forwards and bringing her club up with her, before slamming it down into the bark in front of him! Vincenzo backpedaled into a wall of bark as it dented the wood, staring at the crater it made as she pulled it out.


    It wasn¡¯t paper mach¨¦. It wasn¡¯t a balloon. It wasn¡¯t ply-wood. It was real. It was a goddamned giant caveman club. And its heavy, heavy as fuck! he thought. I could swear I saw her get pulled by it as she swung¡­ That was the thing, wasn¡¯t it? He needed to find out what her spell was and what it did. She got pulled by it¡­ That felt important.


    He didn''t have time to think about it anymore as she forced it his way. He climbed up the thick bark as quickly as he could, only able to narrowly dodge by firing into the ground for the extra momentum. The shiny metal crashed into the trunk at its tip and bounced a small amount, before pressing itself against the bark.


    He was seven feet in the air when Frey pulled back her club. To his shock, it hadn''t dented the wood at all. The hell?! He still clung to the tree with his left arm and both legs, his stomach to the bark. It really wasn¡¯t the best place to be¡ªhe had nowhere to run. Frey grit her teeth and swung!


    ¡°SHI¡ª!¡± he started, just as the bat slammed into the side of his stomach.


    For just a moment, as he flew through the air above the abyss, he could swear that he felt weightless¡­ and then the weight came back and he crashed into the side of another tree, breaking bones as he fell down to the middle of another branch. He felt lucky for the surprise ground; otherwise, it would have been a long fall. Still hurt though, he thought to no one in particular, his bones melding together.


    He rose to Frey¡¯s surprise, a steady stream of bright blood slowly seeping from his mouth before spitting it out. He loaded two more shells.


    ¡°I get it¡­¡± Vincenzo said, wiping away blood on his lips. ¡°You mess with weight, right?¡±


    Frey flapped closer, practically hovering, holding the club in front of her as a shield in case any more shots came her way. The clock floating over her kept ticking, the one silver arm spreading green until it overpowered the white. He knew that her spell messed with weight, that that she could bend it at will, but had no clue what the hell the clock floating above her skull had to do with it.


    ¡°I''ve named it¡­¡± she started. She flew higher, reaching about fifty feet over him, before folding her wings back and swinging down hard. The weight pulled her along as Vincenzo dove towards the trunk. ¡°Feather Falling!¡±


    The metal almost shot through the middle of the branch where Vincenzo had stood before he dove away, nearly destroying the natural bridge between the trees! Frey, even though near the impact, stood on the cracked wood and pulled the club back, resting its handle on her thin shoulder. Her show of strength wasn¡¯t lost on him. She had grit.


    ¡°Oh, holy shit,¡± he said blandly, rising to his knees again. ¡°Jesus Christ.¡±


    She swung one wild strike after another, making it light when she raised it and reverting her affect the moment she swung; the wood splintered deep after every strike. Vincenzo fired twice with deafening BANGS! but throwing the weapon off course wasn''t enough to stop his back from grinding against the trunk.


    Oh, yeah, he thought, watching her inch closer despite his explosive protests. This is getting pretty bad.


    From the look on her pretty face, he could tell she thought the opposite. He bet she thought:


    Oh, yeah. This is getting pretty good.


    8


    Cammo stabbed at Buta¡¯s neck, an attack she barely avoided by throwing her head to the left as she stabbed her own twin blades towards his midsection. He grabbed the tips with his stony left hand and held it there, the rough texture combined with his strength stopping her attempts to pull it back.


    ¡°You have no chance¡­¡± he said, stretching his right arm back.


    She let go the moment he swung, avoiding what would¡¯ve been a decapitation. ¡°Neither does your friend,¡± she panted.


    Crouched, she pulled a small silver dagger from her boot. Cammo tossed her other weapons into the abyss without ceremony. ¡°Maybe¡­ Maybe not¡­ But that¡¯s not for you to decide.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    He had her armed with a single dagger. It was only a matter of time before he could bury his blade in her skull¡­


    9


    Plum looked on from behind the tree on Cammo¡¯s side, clinging to the bark fiercely. Neither of the adults noticed her. At least, she hoped so¡­ That¡¯s a hiddunson! her excited mind pointed out. Of the Great Chasm! Wait, no¡­! That¡¯s not what you¡¯re here for, remember? You need to find out what they¡¯ve been keeping from you. You gotta!


    They began to swing at each other. The hiddunson''s short dagger couldn''t even come close to the masked man, even when his sword scraped against her gray-textured skin, spilling red into the dark.


    Plum could only watch amazed; their speeds were insane! They reacted quicker, they attacked quicker, they defended quicker, they were just¡­ quicker. She wondered if Glow did anything more than just increase strength¡­ Now''s not the time, she thought. Focus, dummy!


    The hiddunson¡¯s blade shattered as she deflected another deadly attack, barely saving herself from yet another killing blow! Without any weapon she turned to run, but his sword stabbed into her calf and sent her tumbling into the trunk of the tree instead.


    He wiped away the sweat, which seeped through the mask like a second skin, on his forehead while letting a deep breath out.


    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± the hiddunson mumbled, using the bark to pull herself up.


    ¡°Me and you,¡± Cammo said. ¡°We¡¯re a little old for this, aren¡¯t we? A little old for fights to the death, right?¡±


    He walked closer as the hiddunson¡¯s resolute stare became more fearful. Something about that made Plum¡¯s heart sink. The hiddunson stood on her injured leg, learning that the wound was deep, yet small. She could still move.


    ¡°I agree¡­¡± she said. ¡°Battles to the death are a younger woman''s game¡­¡± She glanced around frantically as gunshots echoed off nearby. ¡°But things don¡¯t always turn out the way we want, do they?¡±


    ¡°Old habits¡­¡± Cammo agreed. He threw the tip an inch away from her throat, and her attention went to the emp instantly. ¡°Now. How did you know about my daughter? And about Locine¡¯s death?¡±


    ¡°Fuck you!¡±


    The tip traveled further into her skin, a stream of red running down her neck. The back of her head grinded against the bark as she shrank away, afraid to even dry swallow. ¡°Half an inch,¡± said Plum¡¯s father, something close to murder in his eyes. ¡°All it would take is half an inch.¡±


    Sweat ran down her forehead as his gaze persisted¡­ ¡°Fine, just move it away!¡± she shouted. ¡°Now! Now!¡± He did, yet kept the tip an inch away, ready to thrust ahead. ¡°When we learned it was incurable, we decided to go to a certain wizard. He could astrally project. And with the information Slogine provided, they found you and your sick wife¡­ From what we¡¯ve seen of the disease, she would be dead by the time we got here, or close to it. We planned from there¡­¡±


    ¡°One last thing.¡± Cammo tightened his grip. ¡°How is he?¡±


    And Plum and the hiddunson¡¯s eyes met. She spotted me! Plum knew, but didn¡¯t hide. The Hiddunson simply looked back towards her father, not mentioning what she saw. What did that mean?


    ¡°He¡¯s fine¡­ sick¡­ but fine,¡± she said. ¡°And he won¡¯t be fine for long. Cammo¡¯s stoicism returned as he gripped the leather grip tight, no doubt preparing to push the blade just one more inch. ¡°But since I answered yours, can you answer one question?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Does she even know why we''re here? Your daughter? Why all this is even happening? Does she know what her place in all this is?¡±


    Plum¡¯s long ears pricked up and she held her breath.


    ¡°No, not a thing,¡± he said. ¡°I told her about wizard-eating noblemen¡ªa half-lie but a good one, especially when it comes to us¡ªbut that''s it.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she replied, a thin yet triumphant smile coming into being. Cammo raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well, girl, do you want to know what really happened?!¡±


    Cammo¡¯s eyebrows furrowed, more angry than confused.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Plum answered. She stepped out from where she hid. ¡°I do!¡±


    He didn¡¯t look at her. Cammo pulled his arm back, ready to shove his sword into the woman¡¯s neck before she could speak. He¡¯s going to murder her, Plum thought. He¡¯s really going to do it.


    But she ducked just as the sword impaled the spot where her head used to be but where her ear now was, severing her right one in the attack. Cammo pulled it out and tried to chop at her, but the moment it was about to rip through her fleeing body a small blue wall interrupted it, deflecting the sharp blade! Cammo gave his daughter an angry glance as Buta jumped to safety; Plum gave one back.


    The woman fled along with her answers. ¡°Wait!¡± Plum shouted, but Cammo had already jumped after her. ¡°What are you hiding?!¡±


    Cammo ignored her and went on. His daughter watched as the two jumped from branch to branch with ease, leaving her behind, leaving her with even more questions than before. The fact that she was used to get away, she knew that right after the fact, was even more salt on the wound.


    ¡°Damn it¡­¡± she said, under her breath, peering over the edge into the black below.


    She knew the woman wasn''t strong enough to survive without her help¡­ And if she died, the truth¡ªsomething she was getting more and more anxious about¡ªdied with her. She needed to get after them. But how do I do that? she wondered, watching the two lights disappear among the giant trunks, their bodies a blur in their speed. I can barely follow them with my eyes! But I gotta do something, don¡¯t I?


    ¡°Damn it!¡± she yelled, knowing exactly what that ¡°something¡± was.


    She needed to get after them.


    So she jumped. It was abrupt, but she figured it was the only way to get her moving before she could convince herself otherwise. Her small heart stopped as she started to fall. She screamed, closing her eyes and holding her hands out beneath her, hoping to all the Gods her mother had told the truth about how she was stronger than she knew¡­ And she was right:


    A rippling translucent floor caught her before she plummeted into the unknown depths. Her eyes shot open when she heard a small crack, looking down¡ªa terrifying thing, but also necessary¡ªto see the long and wavy line snake its way across the rippling blue, branching off in almost every direction. She let out a pathetic moan and stood up immediately when the reality of her situation hit. One wrong move, one lapse in concentration, and she would fall¡ªshe would fall into nothingness. Anxiety took hold; more and more cracks appeared. The rapid beat of her heart, now pumping blood again, seemed almost audible¡­ ¡°No, no, no, no!¡± she protested, feeling every crack as if they were knives in her flesh. ¡°Come on!¡±


    Each crack split and fused with the next despite her pleading. You¡¯re making it worse! she told herself. Don¡¯t you remember what papa said? You need to concentrate! If you don¡¯t then¡­ Well, don¡¯t think about that! She slapped the sides of her cheeks, straightening her back while standing completely still over the abyss as she closed her eyes.


    ¡°Calm down¡­ Calm down¡­¡± she whispered to herself. ¡°You know how it works¡­ The more nervous you get, the weaker Glass Houses becomes¡­¡±


    The sound of her spell breaking was similar to, well, glass. And its sound didn''t stop even as she managed to slow the rapid drumming of her heart. Plum took a long breath in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. The shattering noise started to slow¡ªnot by much, but enough to convince her that she hadn¡¯t committed suicide.


    ¡°See?¡± she whispered. ¡°You''re okay¡­¡±


    When her ruby eyes opened, the endless bottom seemed so much less threatening than it had been before, emboldening the young emp enough so that she was finally beginning to feel in control. That thought stopped the spread of cracks completely. I¡¯m okay.


    She crouched down readying her body to jump, and jump she did, meeting her spell again. This time, no cracks. Then she started to walk, putting one foot in front of the other while trying her best not to look down again, open palms aimed towards her boots. Only being able to conjure one barrier at a time made it difficult, but slowly¡ªvery slow in fact¡ªshe got a rhythm¡­ Then, when that rhythm was closer to the instinctual nature that handled her breathing, she started to run.


    Her speed may have not been as impressive as the other two, but she knew she would catch up. She also knew that whatever was being held from her was important, so important that Cammo would murder somebody right in front of her to keep it secret¡­ I¡¯ll find out anyway, she thought stubbornly. I swear I will.


    10


    Vincenzo¡¯s clothing ripped from the exposed bones poking out from the skin. They shrunk back into his body as he rose back to his feet, his pale skin painted red. He wiped away the blood sneaking into his eyes and spit out fractured and dislodged teeth, loading another to shells into Heavy Metal with a snap. His confident smile was replaced with a tired scowl as he panted heavily into the chilly afternoon air, more sweat rolling down his reddened skin¡­


    Frey stretched her wings allowing her to slowly glide to the branch he bled on. The pearly cloth clung tighter against her skin as small beads of sweat began to form; the clock was still ticking. The blood on her was just on her, not a single drop belonging to her body. ¡°You can heal your own wounds?¡± she asked, but it was obvious she already knew the answer. ¡°Neat trick, but I¡¯m going to crack your head open so many times it won''t matter.¡±


    The resolve on her face did not waver as she smashed her metal into the bark, narrowly missing Vincenzo¡¯s tired body. He staggered back as the ground shook¡ªit wasn¡¯t how he¡¯d usually dodge, however. It was more like he was falling backwards.


    ¡°Give up,¡± he panted, giving her the middle finger with his left hand. ¡°And fuck off¡­ Both in either order, I don¡¯t give a shit.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not in a good position, scum.¡±


    She pushed the weapon towards him one more time, slamming it into his chest and propelling his back into the trunk! She ran forward and shot the weapon''s tip in the same spot, pinning him a foot off the bark. He coughed up an abnormal amount of blood onto the sleek metal of the club, his rough hands sliding off the surface as he tried to grip to shove it away. That¡¯s not gonna work, he realized quickly. It¡¯s too slippery, and she made me light too! I can¡¯t do shit¡­!


    ¡°I didn''t want to do this¡­¡± he whispered, his left hand reaching for the sizable bag hanging off his waist. ¡°I really didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Just die already!¡± she yelled, leaning into the club to press it harder against him.


    ¡°But I guess I have to¡­¡± he said, pulling something out of the leather bag on his hip.


    Frey¡¯s look of determination and rage turned into despair and shock when she saw it, the already thin light she emitted wavering.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vincenzo coughed, aiming the heavy gun at the item in his left hand. ¡°I got a hostage!¡±


    He held Gult¡¯s decapitated head above the bat¡ªa rotting dreadful looking thing, banged up and discolored from the fight. Frey pushed it deeper, forcing more and more blood out of his destroyed lungs as she screamed in a mix of rage and agony.


    ¡°Fetch!¡± he yelled cruelly, chucking the head down into the abyss with a small grin. ¡°The rest of the bodies burned, bird-girl! That¡¯s all you get to bury!¡±


    ¡°Damn you!¡± she screamed, tearing up as she tried to pull her club away.


    Vincenzo bit into the side of Heavy Metal and carved a handhold into the club, all while clinging to the bark he had been grinding against just moments ago, unrelenting in his wish to keep the weapon away from her. His smug and bloody smile told Frey all she needed to know about keeping her club. Letting go, she dove after what was left of her brother. He fell down, heavy again.


    He ran to the handle and turned the spot where it started to widen into a shell; tossing the rod left over, he tore off his bloody jacket and started to wipe the weapon with it. The shiny metal turned into a glossy red. ¡°Let¡¯s see you use it now¡­¡± he chuckled. ¡°I can take you now¡ªI will.¡±


    His headache grew to almost unbearable proportions, but he wasn''t energetic enough to express it¡­ Thump, thump, thump, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! the inside of his brain screamed. It never fucking stops, does it?!


    Silence dominated as he sat down and pressed his bare back against the wet metal. The blood did little to bother him as he let out labored breaths of growing exhaustion, tossing the shirt aside he looked up at the rays of sun squeezing in between the tight net of branches. A ray fell on him for a moment as he shut his eyes¡­ It was warm and there was a breeze, and he liked both of those things very much¡­ In that small and useless moment, the torturous throbbing in his head ceased. He didn''t bother questioning it. She¡¯ll be pissed as hell when she¡¯s back, he thought. I¡¯d be pissed¡­


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯ll try to tear you in half,¡± someone agreed.


    Vincenzo shot up and aimed his weapon around for the source, whirling his pale and battle-worn body in one direction to another.


    ¡°In the reflection,¡± it guided. ¡°The one on the bat.¡±


    Vincenzo looked into the glossy red surface with caution, still holding his weapon close. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    The shape in the wet metal became more and more familiar the closer he came, but wrong. And wrong was the only thing that the pale teen could think when he realized what it was.


    ¡°Hey,¡± it greeted, grinning.


    It was his own reflection, talking and acting as if he couldn''t control its every move, like all reflections should. Vincenzo cringed away from the multiple eyes covering its body, finding it hard not to stare; at least fifty of them stared back, including the two sitting under its eyebrows.


    ¡°Another hallucination¡­¡± Vincenzo sighed, sitting back down with a hand on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this¡­¡±


    Its head started to peek out from the club as if it was resurfacing from a clear pool, until it pulled the rest of its body out and sat beside him on his right side, naked and nonchalant.


    ¡°What?¡± it asked, as if nothing was strange. Vincenzo went back to closing his eyes. ¡°You''re not even going to react to me climbing out?¡±


    Vincenzo threw his right arm across its neck, smacking the club¡¯s side. It faded into smoke before reassembling a moment later, unharmed. ¡°See?¡± he said, bringing his arm back to his face. ¡°Just a hallucination¡­ Now let me relax, will you?¡±


    It clicked its tongue. ¡°What''s a ¡®rest¡¯ gonna do for you? We both know you have about five shots before you pass out completely, and that''s not even counting getting mangled up along the way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out¡­¡±


    ¡°What a cop-out! ¡®I¡¯lL FiGurE SOmThinG oUt!¡¯ ¡± it mocked. ¡°You¡¯re not doing shit and you know it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking right now, so could you kindly fuck off?¡± Vincenzo was not in any kind of mood to be arguing with himself. ¡°Please? You¡¯re grossing me out, freak.¡±


    It and its multiple eyes just stared at him, annoyed. ¡°Hey, what happened to that headache of yours?¡±


    He stayed silent, only calming his breath and continuing to wipe blood out of his eyes.


    ¡°It''s gone,¡± it answered. ¡°Wanna know why it''s gone?¡±


    He stayed silent. I don''t care, he thought. I really couldn¡¯t give less of a shit, I¡¯m not sorry to say. Sure, it¡¯s kinda nice to not have that annoying ¡°thump¡±, but I got better shit to do than worry about that. Like figure out how I¡¯m gonna handle Frey when she comes back¡­


    It gave him the answer as to why: ¡°Because I¡¯m fully mature, baby!¡±


    Vincenzo raised his head, perplexed.


    ¡°Yep! You already noticed it weaken from the first night you felt it, and it kept getting weaker; now it¡¯s gone. Everyone dies from that first time it emerges¡ªusually from someone killing them or killing themselves¡ªbut your immortality managed to break the cycle! So, good job!¡± It clapped for him, slow and sarcastic, its smile the same.


    ¡°Shut up¡­ Frey already told me what the spell does.¡±


    It laughed the way he would laugh. Vincenzo didn¡¯t like it one bit. ¡°What a joke¡­ So, I guess you know what Heavy Metal could do in every possible scenario, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if I hold onto it then anything I touch¡ªapart from flesh and spells that aren''t my own¡ªbecome shotgun shells. I know my own spell.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± It smiled. ¡°Does that mean air? ¡®Cause you¡¯re touching the air. How about fire? And sound? Can ¡®ya make a bullet out of that? Who the fuck knows? You don¡¯t, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    ¡°And how would you?¡± Vincenzo asked. ¡°You¡¯re fake, a figment, a hallucination¡ªmy hallucination. The only thing you know is what I know.¡±


    ¡°Yep¡­¡± it said, glancing down to the void. Vincenzo sensed it was a lie. ¡°But I know of things you¡¯re not even conscious of; like the real reason you don''t wanna fight back¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± he mumbled, glaring. ¡°And what would that be?¡±


    It gave him a shrewd smile, slowly sinking back into the weapon''s glossy reflection of the club they sat near. ¡°When your back¡¯s against the wall, I¡¯ll be the one in the driver''s seat,¡± it warned. ¡°We¡¯re real sick fucks, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Then it was gone. The silence he was left in went from comforting to uncomfortable. Vincenzo snuck a look at the reflection behind him only to see himself looking back¡ªa small victory.


    ¡°What a shitshow¡­¡± he muttered, standing back up and stretching.


    He was as refreshed as he was ever going to get and his headache, as the figment said, was gone. Look who¡¯s here.


    Frey rose upon silently with a look of pure rage, the remnants of her brother not with her. Vincenzo goaded her on with a shit-eating grin as he raised his weapon, aiming the twin barrels at her head.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re unarmed¡­ Now come quietly,¡± he said. She stopped gritting her teeth, clenching her fists, and staring daggers at him. Her previously enraged face became apathetic but still somehow just as wrathful. She looked him right in his black eyes with green ones, eyes that the man thought were beautiful. Like gems, he thought, before knocking his mind back in place.


    ¡°I''m going to destroy you,¡± she claimed, almost calmly. She flapped her powerful wings slowly, so slowly that the fact she was even airborne seemed like a preposterous idea; it looked more like she was suspended by invisible wire. She looked down at him while reaching into the floating folds of her pearly cloth, untying and wielding what looked like a chained whip. She swiped at him with it, the same rage that came before coming again. ¡°And this is how I¡¯ll do it!¡±


    The whip crashed against the wood right next to the pale one, before turning weightless in the wind, and got yanked it back. Vincenzo shot past her fragile body, taking a chunk of bark out of a faraway tree¡ªbut she didn¡¯t even seem to notice. Fuck! I hoped she¡¯d at least try to dodge, he thought. Or maybe even flinch.


    ¡°At least a monster like you keeps his promises!¡± she laughed, throwing the iron again.


    He ducked away from the danger while firing at it, hitting it. It rattled yet did not sever, as bullets embedded themselves into the sturdy metal. What the hell is that thing made of?!


    Frey flew directly at him; a move he wasn''t ready for in the slightest as he instinctively aimed at her and barely resisted the urge to blow her away. She stalled¡ªan easy task as she spread her wings to drag against the air¡ªjust before entering melee range, and flew around him faster than he could turn his body to follow.


    To him, she was a whirlwind! Barely able to catch sight of her at her speed, he crouched down. She flew by him and slashed at his wrists with the talons on her hands, before returning out of arm''s reach.


    Frey, faster than anything, cut his wrists so deeply that out of his hands went Heavy Metal. No, he thought. Frey, faster than anything, kicked it into the abyss. No!


    ¡°Shit!¡± he yelled, as she started to circle him again. ¡°You bitch!¡±


    The metal whip began to float along with her, completely surrounding him until she stopped suddenly and flew straight up; the iron, almost suspended in air, barely rose to follow, but instantly constricted around his neck, choking him as she lifted him up! She couldn¡¯t raise him any higher than a few inches, but that was all that was needed.


    She flapped her long wings with a violent quickness. Sweat forced the cloth on her body and hair to stick tight against her skin as the pale one grunted in pain. Vincenzo thrashed around, trying to tear the metal away with both hands, but it dug into his skin too far to get a grip. She flew higher, forcing him to struggle on the tips of his boots.


    She was hanging him.


    He felt light, but not weightless. He strained to grab the chains above his neck to pull her down, only barely succeeding as she flapped her wings even harder.


    ¡°He was my best friend!¡± she cried, tears landing on Vincenzo¡¯s cheeks as she looked down. ¡°And you killed him like some dog! You¡ª!¡± She ate her words and grunted, yanking up. ¡°Why did you do it?!¡±


    The chain tightened even more as his once pale complexion turned blue; his eyes started to bulge while a white foam oozed through his grit teeth¡­ He was dying, and he knew it, and it hurt. A mix of emotions came into his heart: he was scared, scared that they had failed; he was sad, sad that he failed Plum and his fetish had fallen into the void; and he was angry, angry at the angel bitch hanging him to death. He was so angry he wanted to kill her. And he felt the emptiness throb, begging him to do it. And when he looked up, he saw his hallucination smiling down, as if it knew this was going to happen the entire time.


    ¡°Man, she¡¯s keeping her promise, isn''t she?¡± it said, taking a closer look at her depressed expression. ¡°Looks like I gotta save us, then¡­ Don''t worry about anything, I¡¯m just gonna do what you wanna do.¡±


    It turned into a white fog and slowly entered his body: seeping into his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. Vincenzo thrashed around in pain one last time from the disgusting sensation before going completely limp, the tip of his boots slowly scraping against the bark, his hands still gripping his neck tight¡­


    11


    Frey flapped her wings furiously, wanting to make sure that the fiend was really dead. Is it over, she thought. Please, let it be over¡­ But he sprung back to life with a small smile and started to tip toe over the edge, using the last of his fading mind to enact one final plan. She knew what he meant to do.


    ¡°Damn you! Please!¡± she cried. ¡°Just die!¡±


    He didn''t. Falling headfirst off the edge while grabbing onto the bark, spinning his body around in a jerking motion. Frey flew out below him and stopped flapping her wings, choking him with her own bodyweight, light as it was. Even still, he climbed back up with difficult gurgles squeaking out of his froth-covered mouth the entire way.


    He threw most of his body onto the branch before growing limp again¡­ and faced the sky, going silent. Frey swung for¡­ she didn''t even know how long. She just swung, choking what little life was left out of him, sobbing as she swayed. She killed him. She had killed a man. As bad a man as it was, it felt like a knife in her heart, and she cried for it. Eventually, she was satisfied. ¡°I got you¡­¡± she muttered, as a few tears fell out of her bright green eyes. ¡°I avenged you, Gult! I did it¡­¡± She let out silent sobs as she hung before regaining her composure, deciding to fly to the top, tired as anyone could be.


    He laid there motionless, his eyes still bulging, foam pouring out of gritted teeth, with two large hands clasped over his throat. The moon-man was really dead.


    ¡°Serves you right¡­¡± she sniffed, but the words seemed hollow after seeing the body.


    She sat back down, facing away from the corpse, and buried her head into her knees. I¡¯ve got no mana left, she thought, taking a small glance at the clock above her head. The silver arm completed its rotation, painting the green, red; it stopped at about three quarters full. Red was overtime. The time I borrowed is gonna catch up to me soon.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Buta¡­¡± she muttered, remembering the fear in her eyes when she learned she¡¯d have to fight alone. ¡°I can¡¯t save you right now¡­¡±


    ¡°There''s no need,¡± someone said.


    Frey turned immediately while enveloping herself with an amber Glow, only for it to fizzle out just a second later. The moon-man stood over her with a large knife in his left hand¡ªGult¡¯s knife¡ª and a grin on his face and piercing black eyes; dead eyes, she thought. Evil eyes.


    ¡°H-ho¡ª?¡± she stuttered, struggling up.


    ¡°I stabbed myself in the bottom of my neck and pried open the wound to breathe, and I hid the knife behind my back and covered my neck when you started to fly up. That way you¡¯d have no idea of what I''ve done,¡± he explained, stepping closer. ¡°It¡¯s not complicated. Not complicated a bit.¡±


    She wanted to fully stand but his left hand put a stop to that, clenching her thin shoulder and pushing her back to the ground. It was like her body was caught in a vice, squeezed so hard she struggled to breathe.


    ¡°Let go!¡± she yelled, digging her talons into his bicep and forearm.


    He ignored it and jerked her around, planting his boot on her back¡ªan effortless maneuver that she and her thin muscles, small body, and hollow bones were powerless against¡ªand pinning her to the dry bark. She thrashed, but it amounted to nothing. The gap in their strength was too pronounced. He was too big, and she was too small.


    ¡°You''re pretty light!¡± he said, grabbing her right wrist and twisting it behind her back. It felt like it was going to snap. ¡°I guess you have to be when you''re a bird-person¡­ Ya¡¯ know, flyin¡¯ and all¡­¡±


    She groaned in pain as he raised her wrist further up along her back, sure that he was about to break it. Groans turned into wails.


    ¡°You got some pretty nice back muscles, though.¡± For such a weak looking girl she, like all avilops, had a developed back ready to tense itself when flying. ¡°Another thing that¡¯d be nice to have as a bird-person¡­¡± he stated, replacing the boot on her back with his right knee.


    She gasped from the enormous weight crushing her lungs. Frey shut her mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her screams. I will not break, she promised. Frey wasn¡¯t a prideful person, but for this one thing, she would be. She¡¯d do it for Gult. She¡¯d die like the warrior she wanted to become. I will not break! I will not scream! I will give you no satisfaction!


    ¡°You know another thing that''s important to bird-people?¡±


    He paused as if waiting for an answer. None came. Only her own wheezing breath as she struggled to get air in.


    ¡°Wings!¡± he said. ¡°Without ¡®em: all those traits that were supposed to make you light, like hollow bones and low-density muscles, are nothing but a death sentence. And, honestly, I¡¯m planning on letting loose. You¡¯re pretty enough¡ªsmall, but pretty. And I can¡¯t have you flyin¡¯ away on me now, can I? No, I have to ground you.¡±


    Pressing the blade''s edge against the space that connected the feathery appendage to her back produced a small jolt as she felt the cold metal, and he laughed cruelly. Frey forgot how to be brave.


    ¡°I guess you could tell where this is going!¡± he chuckled. ¡°Now, as revenge for throwing my one and only fetish below: I¡¯m going to take something of yours.¡±


    ¡°Do it¡­¡± she whispered.


    The moon-man leaned closer while cupping his ear. ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°DO IT!¡± she yelled, trying to face him as best she could. ¡°Are you going to taunt me, or are you going to do it?! You already wo¡ª¡±


    He pulled his arm back and released the weapon into her wing¡¯s joint closest to her skin! She let out a cry of pain before biting down on the bark to muffle them¡­ He chopped again, hearing something break, and kept going. Her world turned into one of blurred pain, the tears in her eyes making everything watery as she tried to hide her sobs.


    I will not break! I will not break! I will not break! I will not break! There was another crack! and she sobbed into the wood. I will not break! I-I will not¡ª! Another crack.


    The only noise other than a fleshy squash and crack was her occasional yelp. Her right wing dangled off her now blood stained back, also stained by the red. She started to feel lightheaded, even more so than she had before¡­ She couldn¡¯t feel her wing anymore.


    With one final chop, it fell off. He caught it and dangled it in front of her emptying eyes, like an owner dangling a treat in front of their whimpering pet only to pocket it a moment later.


    Tears sprung as she remembered Gult. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­ Gult¡­ forgive me¡­¡±


    He threw the feathered appendage into the black, immediately starting on the next one, cracking into it as Frey forgot everything and screamed. She just wanted him to stop. Frey just wanted him to stop¡­


    12


    Cammo followed the hiddunson back to the end of Fall, nimbly hopping over the vast expenses of nothingness between platforms without a break. He could deal with Plum later. For now, he had to kill the one running from him. Suddenly, to his surprise and confusion, she stopped, her face shocked before turning to fury. He stopped on another branch to see what had stopped her, and when he did his heart sunk.


    ¡°YOU!¡± her voice cracked. The moon-man turned to see a battle-scarred Buta standing above them on another branch, her right ear was sliced clean off and a non-negligible amount of blood leaked out of her thigh. But none of these things seemed to affect her when she saw her one and only daughter beaten and bloody. ¡°Get away from her! You get away from her!¡±


    He chuckled. Slamming the weapon into her wing again to hear the crack of a broken bone. Frey let out a tortured wail before passing out completely¡­


    Buta exploded with unrelenting anger as she readied herself for another jump¡ªbut Cammo stopped her, slashing at her back and almost breaking her spine. She rolled away while bleeding. Vincenzo kept chopping.


    As Cammo faced him, he faced Cammo back. The emp¡¯s face was full of disappointment and regret but was quickly replaced with shock, shock from the realization that the man torturing his enemy was not the same man he¡¯d been sleeping next to the past couple of weeks. ¡°W-who are you?¡±


    Vincenzo simply smiled¡ªone that confirmed the emp¡¯s fears¡ªand went back to chopping¡­ Someone else was wearing him.


    Cammo concentrated on the task at hand. Whatever that was, he could deal with it after. Lunging for her, another barrier parried his attack as she dodged. How? he thought, glancing behind. Oh, that¡¯s how¡­ Plum ran along her barriers with heavy breaths over the abyss and fell on a branch higher than them all.


    Vincenzo tossed her other wing aside which caught Plum¡¯s attention. She stared in horror at his bloody body, and in horror at the other one below him¡­


    This is not something she needs to see! he thought. I need to put a stop to this! Cammo had no idea why, but a great urge to stop Vincenzo for all their sakes came over him, and he didn¡¯t deal the killing blow. ¡°You!¡± Cammo started, pointing at the injured Hiddunson recovering over the wood. ¡°It''s your spell that''s doing this, now turn it off! NOW! Hurry!¡±


    She rose up, feeling the gash in her back. It wasn¡¯t fatal, he knew, only painful. ¡°Mind¡¯s Tumor doesn''t work that way! There¡¯s no turning it off! You have to kill him! He¡¯ll try and kill you, too, so do it now!¡±


    She was useless, Cammo thought. A waste of life and space. ¡°Plum, he¡¯s not himself!¡± he shouted, keeping his gaze on the woman in front of him. ¡°Don''t interfere! I can stop this now!¡± Killing her was the only way. If he did that the curse would most likely break, and then the girl under the moon-man would be saved.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Plum cried, wiping away her tears. ¡°That''s probably a lie too!¡±


    ¡°Sit back and let me protect you!¡± Cammo said, swinging for Buta again.


    Another barrier deflected it much to his frustration. Plum didn¡¯t trust him. She had good reason not to, but now that unease was going to mess everything up. I¡¯ve miscalculated again! He tried to kill the hiddunson, but another barrier allowed her the time to dodge. Damn it! He should¡¯ve told her. He should¡¯ve told her.


    13


    The thing in Vincenzo could feel her lightly squirm under his leg. ¡°You lost a lot of blood, ya¡¯ know. It''s pretty cool how you''re still awake,¡± he commented, resting the tip of the knife against the front of her neck. ¡°But it looks like that''s it. Sorry, but I got more people to take care of¡­ I don¡¯t have time to make you my woman¡­¡±


    Frey was out of it, not even noticing the drop of blood falling from the tip of his knife. Her delicate hand reached for the lonely area on her back, only to feel small bony nubs where her wings once were.


    Vincenzo raised the dagger, ready to plunge it deep into the back of her head, when she turned to face him¡­ The look on her face told him that she still wasn''t sober. She looked at him like he betrayed her, like they weren¡¯t fighting to the death a minute before. She looked hurt.


    ¡°Please¡­¡± she mumbled, her scaled hands reaching for what wasn¡¯t there anymore. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna die¡­ Please¡­¡± Her blank stare and confused expression did nothing but convey any sense of helplessness, just like the thing in him wanted.


    He should have killed her right then, stabbing her right between her breasts and into her heart¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t. Times up, it thought, the hand it was trying to control shaking. That¡¯s fine. I did what I wanted to do. And I¡¯ll get another chance to do more. And next time¡­ He licked his lips, black eyes on the girl¡¯s breasts. Next time me and you are going to have a ball.


    That same shaking hand turned towards him and plunged the blade it held into his stomach, and he fell backwards with a groan, his eyes changing again¡­


    14


    Vincenzo didn''t know whether it was the pain or the shock of it, but he was back. The real him this time. He panted as the wound closed shut, flinging the bloody knife away. What the hell was that? he thought, facing the brown and gold crown above them. The time he spent in its control was short and recent, but he couldn¡¯t remember a second of it, only the fact that the one calling the shots wasn¡¯t him; he didn¡¯t like it. In fact, he dreaded it. It was enough to make him shake. What did I do?


    Frey rose up and grabbed the loose chain of her whip, and staggered over to him. He raised his head slightly and stared at her with a look of remorse. His question had been answered. Oh, God. What have I done? She knelt down by his boot with a thud, obviously just as tired as him.


    ¡°I never got the chance to tell him how much he meant to me¡­ He was my brother¡­ he protected me¡­ and I never even got the chance to thank him for it¡­¡± she explained, fumbling the iron chains around his boot. ¡°You took that from me¡­¡± she muttered vindictively. She rose and stumbled closer to the edge. She held the other end of the chain as tight as her tired body would allow. ¡°I lost¡­ but that doesn''t mean I¡¯m going to lose alone¡­¡±


    Vincenzo sat up more, panicked. ¡°Why would it need to end like that?¡± he asked, putting his weight on the back of his elbows as he bent up. ¡°I¡¯m too tired to fight you, and I¡¯ll call off Cammo if you both decide never to come after us again! Come on! You¡¯re not thinking straight, you¡¯ve lost too much blood!¡±


    She turned towards him, more sad than spiteful. No words would work. She was going to kill herself. When Vincenzo started to rise, she scowled, and took another step towards the edge, another step towards the abyss¡­


    ¡°No, wait¡­¡± he protested weakly. ¡°Don¡¯t do it¡­ Don¡¯t do it, Frey. You don¡¯t need to do this¡­¡±


    Frey didn¡¯t care. She stepped forward and fell off into the dark. Buta saw and screamed in agony as Vincenzo grabbed for the iron by his ankle. I can grab it! I can¡ª


    Her fumbling made sure the knot wasn''t complete as it unraveled and fell into the void with her; he couldn¡¯t grab it in time. She¡¯d have been too light to pull him down with her anyways. What was she thinking?! She wasn¡¯t, he thought. She wasn¡¯t thinking.


    ¡°Shit!¡± he said, staring over the edge where she fell. ¡°Goddamnit! FUCK!¡±


    Panic started to enter his heart as he stared at her rapidly falling body¡­ Something about the way she looked at him reminded him of a past mistake; he clenched his fist in impotent rage and started to contemplate his options. What could he even do? He couldn¡¯t fly. And he made sure she couldn¡¯t either¡­ That was when his one option came.


    ¡°Hey, Cammo!¡± he finally shouted, getting his attention. ¡°Plum!¡±


    She looked over and smiled weakly when she saw his sane expression. He guessed he wasn¡¯t looking sane before.


    ¡°I¡¯ve gotta keep my promise!¡± he shouted, giving her the most confident grin he could muster. ¡°So, I¡¯ll be back!¡± He stood up, squeezing the pouch tied to his waist. ¡°Count on it!¡±


    Vincenzo Guerriero jumped after her, falling into the endless black that stretched down forever.


    15


    ¡°Crazy bastard!¡¯¡¯ Cammo muttered, glancing below. He looked up to see Plum passed out on the wood. He wasn¡¯t afraid for her. It was just simple over-exertion. The emp turned to the hiddunson and gripped his sword tight. ¡°But at least it looks like it''s just me and you now¡­¡±


    The rock-skinned woman gave him one more look of contrition before turning to run. She was heading to Winter. Buta jumped away while Cammo chased until they reached the pair of bags the woman and her daughter had brought. She grabbed onto her pack as quickly as she could, wincing at every painful movement she had to make trying to save her own life, and pulled out a small black canister; she lit its pearly fuse and launched it towards him.


    He brought up his arms to block just as it exploded, the force of it slamming his back against the wood, scraping the back of his thin jacket! The stone on his arms saved him from any real damage, and he was thankful for his lame spell for once. She lit a cloth bag and chucked it at him before making her escape through the invisible barrier, disappearing into the next segment¡­


    Another bomb! Cammo thought, and threw his belly against the back, covering the back of his head and waited¡­ and waited¡­ and waited¡­ The bag finally caught fire completely and he got back up. He¡¯d been fooled.


    ¡°What a mess¡­¡± Cammo muttered, placing his sword back in its sheath. ¡°That could¡¯ve gone better¡­ Should¡¯ve gone better¡­! Plum, that¡­!¡± He closed his eyes and let a deep breath out. For him, now wasn¡¯t the time to get pissed. He needed to make sure Plum was okay.


    16


    The forest was silent on his trek back; without the constant grunts and shotgun blasts it seemed serene, and he didn¡¯t like that a bit. To him, silence after a battle meant death. Or, at the very least, a costly victory. He thought it felt like the latter. What the hell was that idiot thinking? he asked himself. Jumping like that¡­ I told him what was down there! That selfish¡­! He finally reached the area and jumped on the branch where Plum fell unconscious¡­ but he didn¡¯t find what he had walked all the way back for.


    ¡°What?¡± he muttered, looking around.


    She wasn''t there. Am I in the right place? He whirled around and stopped, spotting the blood of the bird-girl and Vincenzo on the branch below him. I am! I¡¯m in exactly the right spot! Did she wake up? Run off or something? His heart almost stopped. Did she fall?! He shook his head. That¡¯s not it¡­ She was too close to the center, and the suns too bright for any of the abyss creatures to think of her as a meal¡­ But¡­ where is she?


    ¡°Plum?!¡± he yelled, cupping both hands around his mouth. ¡°Talk to me?! Where are you?! PLUM?!¡±


    But the forest was silent

 The Answers

    1


    A deep violet hue encompassed the sky, drowning the white in its dark complexion. Light snow fell on Buta as she struggled to properly fit herself with a heavy attire, the chill of the place already setting in. I¡¯ll dress my wounds after¡­ she thought, dragging a thick fur coat over her body. Sitting in the snow, she put on heavier boots and pants to match, before stopping a moment and staring at the vast horizon.


    It was a wasteland. The only thing that populated it were small leafless bushes that barely qualified as trees, only close enough to each that calling it a forest wasn''t too much of a stretch. Just a flat snowy sea of nothing¡­ and Winter would be worse.


    She pulled out a vial and drank it, immediately letting out a sigh of relief she pulled out the same crystal device that they called Slogine on before. Her thumb hovered silently over a light-blue shard¡­ She sunk her head low before finally pushing it. It began to hum. After an agonizing moment, an equally agonizing sound signaled its success in reaching the other device it was paired with.


    There was silence from the end for a second before he answered.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Slogine said. ¡°Buta? Frey? What happened?¡±


    She fell forward and sunk her face into the snow, muffling everything.


    ¡°Who picked up the phone?¡± he asked, coughing a small amount which made her raise her head from the purple cold. ¡°Hello?¡±


    She pulled the device closer to her lips, opening them as if to say something.


    ¡°Hello? Hello?¡± he repeated. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny¡­¡±


    Then she threw it hard, her Glow on to help. A look of indescribable anger and sadness followed it before she sunk her head in the snow and screamed, punching into it with her gloveless hands until she could barely feel them¡­ Gult and Frey were dead. And the killers had gotten away with it.


    She sat back up and rested on her calves, blankly staring into the endless fields in front of her. How useless am I? she asked herself. That I needed her to protect me¡­ What kind of mother¡­? She should¡¯ve forced her to fight together. Why didn¡¯t she? Why didn¡¯t she force her only daughter to do the one thing that might¡¯ve saved her life?


    Because you¡¯re useless. All it took was one look from her, one threat of an argument to get you to back down. How can you face Slogine after that?


    Buta didn¡¯t know; but she did know she was cold. She stood up and began to walk.


    ¡°I need to set up camp¡­¡± she muttered.


    She staggered along the wastes, expressionless and empty.


    2


    Vincenzo fell through the dark, only able to see Frey by the small patches of white on her blood-stained clothes. Luckily, her limbs were outstretched, making her stall slightly. He put his arms by his side and faced straight down, gaining more speed before throwing his own arms and legs apart when he did reach her. That was the easy part. Finally, he wrapped his arms around her.


    It was almost pitch black at that point, and there was no way to tell how much longer it would take to reach the bottom¡ªif there even was one. He opened the pouch and fished inside using the centrifugal force of the fall to keep everything inside as he did, searching for what he needed. The scream of the wind filled the air, almost loud enough to drown out the voice in his head.


    ¡°ALL YOU NEED IS A BIT OF ENERGY FOR MANA, RIGHT?!¡± he asked, still fishing around.


    She didn''t answer, still unconscious.


    ¡°AND WITH JUST A BIT, YOUR BODY WOULD USE IT UNCONSCIOUSLY TO SAVE YOU! RIGHT?!¡±


    He had no idea but hoped it would. It worked for him after all¡­


    He pulled out an orage and shoved small portions into her mouth, even moving her chin up and down to help with the chewing¡­ The wind crashed against them both as he struggled to tie the bag against her, knowing that its contents would be useless if they fell with him. That''s good enough¡­ he thought, hopefully. Letting go of her he started drifting away. He couldn¡¯t risk weighing her down if that was going to be an issue. It was best to fall alone. See ya¡¯ at the bottom.


    The wind was near deafening at that point as he could feel it drag against the skin of his cheeks and eyelids, throwing them apart in a way that was starting to get painful. He looked over to see Frey slowly grow farther and farther away¡­ away and up. She seemed to be getting lighter. He let out a small sigh of relief before facing the ground¡ªor whatever laid at the base of the forest¡ªand started brace himself.


    Now, how should he land? Would curling up in a ball be advantageous? Or maybe he should spread his limbs as far as possible? It wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d been in this situation before¡­ Eventually he curled his body up in as tight of a ball as he could manage and tightened every muscle, trying also to keep his head upside down to keep his brain close instead of having it splat everywhere¡­


    ¡°Yo!¡± someone greeted.


    The eye-covered thing was back. It was right under him, looking up and standing on nothing as if the fall wasn''t affecting it in the slightest. It stayed five feet under him the entire way and its voice carried itself above the constant screams of the air. ¡°How''s it going?¡±


    He didn''t answer or even look; he only closed his eyes and waited for impact¡­


    ¡°It''s rude to ignore people¡­¡± it muttered. ¡°Listen, I get that you''re mad. I really do. But did you really have to kill us both just to spite me? Like, come on! And that knife too, that was dick move!¡±


    Vincenzo didn''t even think to respond as his speed continued to increase.


    It sighed in annoyance. ¡°Whatever!¡± it shouted. ¡°Just make sure to catch the gear when it falls, and try to make a fire as quick as you can! Whatever¡¯s down here is afraid of light, remember¡­¡±


    Then it faded back into a white smoke that he passed through the same way he imagined parachuters shot through clouds, and thought that it was pretty on the money considering what he was doing and all. Thanks for the advice, asswipe¡­ he thought spitefully.


    He crashed, his head burying itself deep into what was left of his stomach, the rest of his body scattering in a cloud of red¡­


    There was a bottom.


    3


    Cammo looked around frantically. Jumping from branch to branch, he called her name with increasing anxiety, before finally settling down back near his gear. To him, the answer was clear: she went after the hiddunson. She went after answers.


    He got up and grabbed his pack, making way for the entrance to Winter. Vincenzo can find his own way back, he thought. If he was even alive, that was. I need to find Plum.


    4


    Buta passed through the area in between with a dead face and made it to Winter. The constant blizzard worked to her favor as it pushed her along the pristine hills of snow, all until she located one of the many caves in the area. She entered, sat near the mouth, and started a small fire before undressing to examine her wounds. They were bad, but she¡¯d live.


    ¡°Hi¡­¡± a small voice mumbled from the entrance.


    Buta whipped around to face it, surprised, her four eyes scared and wide. The small emp girl stood in the snow, clad head to toe in thick pink clothing to shield against the cold while a large red scarf covered most of her face. A thin layer of dusty white clung to it. Buta looked at her blankly for a moment. She was alone. From what Buta could see, the emp¡ªthe small girl and their only target¡ªwas completely alone. It confused her, but it was also a chance she wouldn¡¯t pass up.


    ¡°You''ll freeze to death out there,¡± Buta finally said. ¡°Come in and warm up.¡±


    She poured alcohol on her thigh with a wince and rubbed a thick green substance in the wound before bandaging it. Plum¡ªthat was her name, Buta remembered¡ªentered. She stuck close to the opposite wall and removed her scarf.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡± the emp asked.


    Buta turned around, showing the deep gash on her back.


    Plum turned off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look away,¡± Buta said, peeking over her shoulder. ¡°It was your father who did this, after all.¡±


    Plum looked back and studied the mess with guilt.


    Buta could use that. The Hiddunson put the jar of green shit down on her side. ¡°Now come and put this medicine in. I can''t reach it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the girl. ¡°I¡¯m not going near you¡­¡±


    The woman scowled. ¡°She¡¯s dead because of you, you know,¡± Buta claimed. ¡°Your friend killed her protecting you. And if you¡¯re fine with that, why¡¯d you even save me? Now come help.¡±


    Plum paused, looking a little sullen. ¡°You mean the bird-person?¡±


    ¡°I mean, Frey,¡± Buta corrected, a bite in her voice. ¡°My daughter.¡±


    Plum didn''t speak.


    ¡°It''s your fault,¡± she said. ¡°The least you could do is this.¡±


    Plum opened her mouth to answer but Buta¡¯s icy glare closed it. The emp inched close and grabbed the jar; removing her gloves, she sunk her small hand in and pulled out a smelly glob of the green, gagging as she rubbed the gunk on the exposed flesh. The woman flinched and cringed at the touch of it, before waving her off and wrapping bandages around herself to cover the wound. Plum backed away and sat on the back of her ankles across the fire, twiddling the end of her long braid nervously.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Buta began, opening a bottle of hard ale to drink, not to heal. ¡°What do you know?¡±


    ¡°Why are you asking me?¡± Plum asked, pulling out her own canteen. ¡°I came here because you''d tell me something¡­¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± she clarified, pausing to take a large gulp. It was fire down her throat, but she didn¡¯t cough, downing it with an ease she¡¯d never felt before. ¡°But first tell me: why do you think I¡¯m here?¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Plum studied her for a moment as Buta wrapped a large blanket around herself, drinking hard the entire time. She held the bottle high over her head as she chugged it. The emp was scared, but she spoke bravely. ¡°My father told me that wealthy people thought that eating a wizard would make them a wizard.¡± The sip she took from her canteen was small and nervous. ¡°And they¡¯d pay a lot of money for one¡­ And that the Guerrieros wanted wizards, too.¡±


    Buta chuckled a little before taking another large swig followed by a satisfied sigh, already feeling the strong drink take effect. ¡°That''s half right,¡± she said. ¡°That happens¡ªmainly to emps, actually, now that I think about it¡ªbut that''s not why I¡¯m here.¡±


    Plum''s cautious expression became sad. ¡°Then why are you here?¡±


    Buta corked the drink and set it aside. The mouth of the cave darkened a small amount, and the blizzard grew more violent, small walls of snow starting to accumulate around the edge of their hidey-hole. ¡°Has he told you of the Guerrieros?¡± the rock-skinned woman asked back. ¡°Because it¡¯d be very worrying if he hadn''t¡­¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± Plum stated, regaining her composure a small amount.


    ¡°And explained why they do what they do? What they give for little girls like you?¡±


    Plum¡¯s eyes shifted downwards. ¡°No¡­ no, he didn¡¯t say why¡­ He just told me to stay away from Vincenzo.¡±


    ¡°Vincenzo¡­¡± Buta repeated, the emotion draining on her face. She hated that name. It was an ugly, brutish name for an ugly, brutish man. That abyss will be his grave. That is a comfort, at least. Down there he was sure to suffer, too. That brought a smile. ¡°Well, would you like to know?¡±


    Plum gave a slow nod and pulled out a small orage from her bag, nibbling at it, eating as nervously as she drank. Buta was too angry to acknowledge the anxious resemblance she and Frey shared, but she did see it¡ªif only for a second.


    ¡°Countries give them children as a tax, and they get to continue standing. But if you give them one as an individual, you get paid¡­ a lot. But you don¡¯t need to be paid gold if it¡¯s not gold you want. You can make requests. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. We want you so we can make a request.¡±


    Plum stopped eating and stared at her, her huge, smooth red eyes wide.


    ¡°You know why I¡¯m here¡­¡± said Buta. ¡°Slogine has been given the means to take you to them in an instant, and that¡¯s very, very good for us because time is very much of the essence. That''s why I need you to come back with me.¡±


    The emp swallowed the last of her small meal, silent as a mouse. She spoke again after another minute. ¡°Why did my father keep it a secret?¡± Plum asked, before looking at the woman defensively. ¡°And why do you think I¡¯d go with you?¡±


    ¡°Probably because he thought you''d go willingly. If you knew what kind of request we were trying to make, you¡¯d have a different view.¡±


    The emp seemed skeptical. ¡°And what kind of deal is it?¡±


    Buta watched the girl silently, before laying down a sleeping bag and lying in it. Plum watched in increasing impatience. It was when she was truly unnerved that Buta started: ¡°There''s a disease going around; not a very large-scale outbreak but sizable, nonetheless. A very deadly disease. All those who catch it die¡­ and it''s incurable. There¡¯s only one way to even slow it: a steady stream of particular medicinal herbs¡­ Expensive herbs. And as I¡¯ve said, they only postpone the inevitable.¡± The hiddunson narrowed all four eyes at the girl who had started to go a deathly pale. ¡°It gets at the lungs. It gets them real bad, girl, and the ones with it die coughing blood, their throats torn to shreds. Hundreds, girl. A small number in the grand scheme, but enough to make a sacrifice over. Hundreds of mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandmothers, grandfathers: all doomed. That is enough to fight over. That is enough to lose an ear over.¡±


    But not enough to lose Gult and Frey. If Buta could turn back time, she would. Even if Slogine died in the process. As a father, he¡¯d understand. And if he understood back then, then he¡¯d have the same idea.


    The emp looked a hair away from passing out, her mouth slightly open, her long ears drooping low, her purple skin light to an almost white, and her eyes windows to the guilt eating at her.


    It was time for the killing blow. ¡°That''s what your mother died from.¡±


    Tears started to flow down Plum¡¯s face, but she made no noise.


    ¡°Farmers who had sick children and wives came to help us, only to get slaughtered. My son came to get you, only to get slaughtered. My daughter came with me, only to get slaughtered. Now, it''s just me and Slogine¡­¡±


    That broke the emp and she started making noise; that noise was weeping.


    ¡°It''s your choice whether or not you join me back. But judging from your reaction I see you''ve already made it¡­¡± the hiddunson muttered. ¡°Go to sleep.¡±


    Buta shut her eyes and beat the emp to it.


    5


    Cammo found himself in the purple wasteland between Fall and Winter. He neared the entrance for Winter and stopped just before the invisible wall, examining a pair of footprints disappearing behind it¡­ One set was smaller than the other. The smaller set was fresher as well.


    Just like I thought, he thought grimly.


    He pulled extra layers of warm fur before entering, knowing full well that failing to cover himself well would be a cold death, and then he went through. The blizzard ran violently into his face as he marched onwards, following the small, fading imprints of boots the entire way¡­


    6


    It was cold and dark at the bottom. That was his first thought. Vincenzo pieced himself back together and threw the bloody rags and leather that once constituted clothing aside; the cold nipped at his naked torso forcing shivers down his spine. It wasn¡¯t a pleasant feeling at all. It was all too familiar. An arm getting lopped off, getting his head smashed, getting guts spilt¡ªthat, he could handle. But the way his skin tore and every bone in his body broke, the way his body turned inside out and back again, the way it all went dark for a second¡ªit wasn¡¯t a great experience. He shivered in the dark for just a second, the cold of the sun-forgotten depths on par with the night prior; but this time, he had no coat and no fire. He forgot the chill the moment his own voice piped up from the black.


    ¡°That hurt?¡± it asked, not sounding concerned.


    It was too dark to really see, but he could tell it was hanging around somewhere. In the spur of the moment, he decided to name it, and because he had better things to think about, he didn¡¯t think too hard.


    ¡°Really?¡± it questioned. ¡°Eyes? Don''t be an asshole. You could come up with something better than that.¡±


    Vincenzo did not respond as he crouched in the dark and felt for anything of use. The ground was dank and somewhat loose. Probably fallen leaves, he guessed. Some at the very top were still dry; he gathered what he could carry and created a pile, searching for tinder too; he found it and crushed it over top. He needed his pouch to get a fire going¡ªhe felt it was necessary, then¡ªbut he knew he had to wait.


    ¡°You feel that, right?¡± Eyes asked. ¡°That weird sensation? It''s kind of like a phantom limb, ya¡¯ know?¡±


    He did notice it. Something was slightly submerged in the rotten muck behind him only a few feet away. He had no way to see it, or feel it, or even smell it, but he knew it was there. Vincenzo knew exactly where it was. ¡°Shut up. I''m already on it,¡± he said, crawling towards it on all fours to better keep his orientation. He dug his arms deep inside the muck and pulled it out. ¡°Holy shit!¡±


    He slapped the gunk off it and rubbed it down, feeling twin barrels of metal and a wood handle. He cracked a grin. Heavy Metal was his again. Guess this isn¡¯t so bad, he thought. This¡¯ll make everything a lot easier.


    ¡°Nice!¡± Eyes said.


    Vincenzo¡¯s good feeling fell way with his smile. If he could kill the thing, he would.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got Heavy Metal!¡±


    ¡°Don''t you ever shut up?¡± he asked, crawling back to the pile. ¡°Dumbass¡­¡±


    ¡°Jesus, are you still mad about the wings?¡± it asked. ¡° ¡®Cause they probably landed nearby, so once that fires set up, we could eat ¡®em. Wouldn''t be a total waste then.¡±


    He didn¡¯t dignify that with a response. He had his life and Frey¡¯s to worry about. Using some of the last of his mana, he turned some moldy leaves into a shell.


    ¡°So, what are you doing?¡± it asked. ¡°Hell, I don''t even know why I¡¯m asking. We share the same wave of consciousness after all¡­ Same thoughts. You know me, I know you. Or rather, I know what you¡¯re thinking.¡± The smile was in its voice. ¡°But you don¡¯t know what I¡¯m thinking¡­¡±


    Vincenzo emptied the shell''s contents and set it on top. He still needed timber, but he couldn''t just carve out a tree with his abysmally low mana. He¡¯d been fighting the exhaustion that dragged every limb down into the muck the moment he put himself back together, wanting more than anything to just pass out¡­ but he couldn¡¯t let that happen. He needed to build that fire and get Frey close or else both of them would be dead.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, she should be landing soon,¡± it commented. ¡°You''ll hear her drop¡­ but look for twigs in the meantime.¡±


    He silently ran his hands along the top layer of leaves, eventually finding some good enough to add to the pile. He grabbed the empty shell and smashed the primer with Heavy Metal¡¯s barrel, splashing lively sparks on the kindling. The small flame was helped along by his passionate breaths of life until it spread along all the fuel, becoming a real fire. It was small, weak, and almost certain to blow out¡ªbut real. And it was real enough to beat off part of the darkness. Around him, at least.


    ¡°There she is,¡± his hallucination said. It pointed its finger somewhere behind him.


    He turned to see Frey floating face down in a pool of stagnant water. The bag he tied to her floating uselessly beside her lifeless form¡­


    How did he know? he wondered. How?


    ¡°Shit!¡± Vincenzo said, jumping in the murky water. ¡°Shit! Shit!¡±


    ¡°What a shame¡­¡± Eyes mumbled, sinking below the dirty liquid along with him. ¡°This is boring, so I''ll be back later. See ya¡¯ then.¡±


    Vincenzo carried her back near the warm embrace of the fire and gently laid her down.


    Is¡­ is she¡­ he thought, not wanting to finish it. He leaned close to her mouth to feel breath. He felt none. But that could¡¯ve meant a number of things¡­ He concentrated on whether he could see her breathe. Turning his head, he watched her breasts to see any change.


    Her chest didn¡¯t rise or fall. That¡¯s a very bad sign, he thought, and put two fingers where her carotid artery would be; a small pulse was thumping. He¡¯d have let out a sigh of relief if she was actually breathing, but then again, she wasn¡¯t. He was on borrowed time.


    Jumping to the top of her head, he knelt down and placed four fingers near the end of her jaw and pulled: a move that was supposed to open her airway, causing more than a bit of pain along with it to maybe jolt her awake¡ªbut she didn¡¯t. She was just as still and unresponsive as when he dragged her out.


    ¡°Damn!¡± he yelled, moving to her side. There wasn¡¯t time to think anymore.


    He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, breathing into her twice before placing his large hand in between her breasts one on top of the other, then he started to push down hard in a rhythmic manner. When he finished thirty shoves, he gave her the kiss of life again and continued this process over and over¡­ The occasional crack of her ribs under the pressure of his weight only stopped him for a moment, but he apologized and continued on, knowing that something like that couldn¡¯t be helped. If she lived with a broken rib, that¡¯d be fine. If she died with pristine ribs, it wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Come on, come on¡­¡± he whispered, leaning in for another two breaths. He gave them to her. ¡°Come on! Please! Come on, Frey, you can do it!¡±


    He needed her to do it. He needed her to live.


    ¡°Please!¡± Tears came to his eyes as he pressed down. ¡°Come on! COME ON! Wake up! Please!¡± There was a crack in his voice and the bottom of the abyss seemed even colder and darker. ¡°Frey! Wake up, Frey! Come on, wake up! Goddamnit, wake up! Wake up!¡±


    He leaned down for another kiss¡ª


    And the moment the first breath entered he could feel her body spasm!


    The bird-girl coughed violently, sending black water right out her lungs the same way a fountain would, with just about as much force, her whole body heaving along.


    ¡°Yes!¡± he yelled. He turned her on her side. ¡°You¡¯re almost there, just keep vomiting. You need all that water out.¡± The grimy liquid kept pouring; more when she coughed hard. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it.¡± He patted the top of her back, careful not to hit on or near the fresh caverns that made up her wound. ¡°Come on, just a bit more. You can do it. You¡¯re almost there¡­ I¡¯ve got you¡­ You¡¯re okay now¡­¡±


    Eventually, she emptied out her lungs and started to breathe normally. Vincenzo let out a sigh of relief before noticing yet another problem. Her teeth started to clack while her body curled up from the frigid temperature, an action that reminded him of his own shivering body. We¡¯re gonna freeze, he realized, finally realizing how cold her wet clothes were. We survived the fall, she lived through the drowning, but if I don¡¯t do something, we¡¯re gonna freeze. He pulled both of their bodies closer to the fire which seemed to help. Her soft skin was the only warmth besides the dull flame.


    ¡°Oh, look at that¡­¡± Eyes started, peeking out from inside the fire. For some reason that Vincenzo couldn¡¯t pinpoint, the thing felt the need to appear out of the weirdest of places. ¡°Good job, man!¡±


    He ignored it as he pulled out some dry timber from inside the bag.


    ¡°Good thing the inside was lined with leather or that might have been really bad.¡±


    Throwing some of the wood on the flames caused it to roar to life, which almost stopped their shiver¡­ almost.


    ¡°I figured out some stuff about myself ya¡¯ know. From what I can tell: I know everything you think, unconscious or not, but not vice versa.¡±


    ¡°That''s nice¡­¡± Vincenzo grumbled dismissively, casting aside Frey¡¯s wet clothes. She was naked but it was necessary. If he hadn¡¯t done it, she¡¯d freeze¡­ It was necessary. ¡°But as you see, I¡¯m busy¡­ Fuck off, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Whatever she is, she''s pretty weird,¡± Eyes said, climbing out of the fire as if it had done it a million times before. ¡°Same thing with Cammo too. They¡¯re short but also not, ya¡¯ get what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± he grunted, rubbing the same red stuff Cammo had thrown him to help with sunburn into her back, taking time to have her drink some too. He vaguely remembered the emp saying it was good both ways.


    Eyes ignored it and kept on his monologue: ¡°You could tell that Cammo¡¯s a tall guy for an emp, with his long limbs and shit.¡±


    Vincenzo laid out two blankets and laid her down on her stomach, sandwiching her between the two while he wrapped a third around himself, still shivering violently. He set her blood-stained dress flat along the leaves. They won''t be clean, but they''ll be dry, he thought. Better than being wet, I think.


    ¡°And bird-girl,¡± it said. Vincenzo clenched up. ¡°She¡¯s short but she still looks like a woman, ya¡¯ know?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± he said, sipping red medicine. It was bitter, more than anything he had in his life, but he needed it. ¡°Don''t you have anything better to do?¡±


    ¡°Nah, not really¡­ Anyway, she¡¯s a woman ya¡¯ know. Nice tits, nice ass, the whole thing, just smaller. Ah! Ah! I know how to explain it now! They''re like an image on a computer where you click on the corner of it, and drag it to the other corner, and it gets smaller. Ha! That¡¯s actually perfect. Like she got hit by a shrink ray. It¡¯s fine. She¡¯s of age, ya¡¯ know. She could take a cock I bet. We¡¯re huge, but she¡¯ll manage.¡± It laughed. ¡°I bet she¡¯d tight as fuck too! Hell, just look at her! It¡¯s fine, you¡¯re not a weirdo for getting turned on, I swear.¡±


    Vincenzo laid his head on one knee and closed his eyes. ¡°Just¡­ shut up¡­¡±


    They were dry, they had light, and they had heat. He could pass out finally. He did.

 The Decay

    1


    Frey stirred in her sleep before slowly waking up to see the pale moon-man close by. She shot up and frantically looked around, wincing silently at the pain in her chest and her back. Am I at the bottom? she thought, as she gazed up at the never-ending trunks far above her. She wondered about two more things: How am I alive? And why am I naked? The latter scared her more. She threw her hand down to check if she was still virtuous, touching upon her vagina for a second before checking her finger, feeling tears come to her eyes. The yellow scales were still yellow. She was virtuous, still. She smiled at the small blessing and wiped her finger on the cloth covering her, staring at the sleeping giant in suspicion.


    The fire was weak but there were small logs nearby, ready to be put to use. Darkness meant death, she knew. She had no idea what was lurking about, but that didn¡¯t mean she was keen to find out. An open bag sat inches from the pale one, the hilt of a small dagger poking out.


    She rose, holding the blanket close to her bare body and inched closer, her right hand outstretched for the weapon. She could stab him in the neck and keep the blade there, which might kill him. She didn¡¯t even know if he could be killed, but she wasn¡¯t going to wait for him to wake up either. What did he want with her? He bandaged her wounds, and she could taste a bitter potion and sour fruits on her tongue, which she guessed were the only reasons she was still alive. But she didn¡¯t know why. I¡¯m going to slit your throat, she promised, taking small, deliberate steps. For Gult. It doesn¡¯t matter if you suffer anymore. As long as you¡¯re dead, I¡¯ll be happy. She was just two feet from him and the bag, and she could feel the hate pump through her heart. The moon-man¡¯s face was bloody, naked save for the blanket he wrapped himself in, and he looked worried but calm. Sleeping like a baby¡­ That¡¯s fine, she thought, kneeling. She reached for the hilt, her left hand holding the cloth above her chest, and held her breath. Slogine had taught her to announce herself before trying to take a life, but she wasn¡¯t doing this for honor. My name is Frey. Buta was my mother. Slogine, my father. And Gult, my brother. And you are nothing¡­ He didn¡¯t deserve any courtesies. Her hand was just an inch away from the dagger and she could already see the blood pour out his throat¡­


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch that,¡± he said.


    She stopped.


    He was awake and staring at her, his black eyes drinking in all light. ¡°Looks like you''re awake,¡± he said, covering his tired face for a moment. ¡°I¡¯d say good morning, but I don''t know what time it is.¡± He redirected his attention to the trunks stretching far above. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how long we¡¯ve been sleeping.¡± He pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring how close she was to the bag, and how easy it¡¯d be for her to pull the dagger out and make an attack. Did he think she wouldn¡¯t do it? ¡°I¡¯m still tired¡­ Shit,¡± he rubbed his eyes, ¡°how¡¯re you feeling?¡±


    ¡°Why am I naked?¡± she asked.


    His face grew red. Not with anger, but either some kind of shame or embarrassment. ¡°You fell in a pond. I needed to take off your clothes, or else you¡¯d have frozen to death,¡± he explained. He pulled the bag away from her casually and started to dig through it. Why hadn¡¯t she moved? She just let him take her only weapon away. ¡°They¡¯re right next to you, but I¡¯d doubt they¡¯re dry with how cold it is down here.¡±


    Somehow she missed how that the dress had been laid out near the fire, but in her defense, there was a scattering of leaves on it. ¡°We¡¯re at the bottom?¡± She had no idea why she asked¡­ She knew where she was.


    ¡°Yep,¡± he said. He handed her some dried meat and fruit.


    She took them quickly and ate them, glaring at him all the while. He started to eat his own portion. Then, he threw more logs into the fire and caused the area to go from dim to bright, which she was thankful for.


    ¡°How do you apologize in your culture?¡± he asked.


    She didn''t answer.


    ¡°Listen, I already know what you¡¯re trying to do,¡± the moon-man said, leaning forward. ¡°You¡¯re trying to find the perfect opening to take me out.¡±


    She didn''t answer.


    ¡°You won''t find that opening with me. So just calm down and get ready to talk. If you don¡¯t, we might die of boredom before anything else.¡±


    ¡°Kill yourself and we¡¯ll be even,¡± she declared, moving her clothing a small bit closer to the flames to dry.


    He chuckled a bit. ¡°That¡­ that I can''t do¡­¡±


    ¡°Then drop it. You''ll have no forgiveness from me!¡± Frey said. ¡°Turn. I¡¯m going to change¡­¡± He did. It was still fairly damp, but she didn''t feel comfortable staying naked in front of him. She didn¡¯t feel comfortable staying naked in a monster-infested pit in general.


    ¡°That''s not really what I¡¯m after,¡± he said, getting up to lazily stretch.


    She immediately jumped to her feet and brought her talons ahead of her in a fighting stance. Vincenzo held his hands up by his shoulder, palms facing her, not making another move.


    ¡°Listen, I don''t want to piss you off anymore. But what do you think you¡¯re gonna do? You¡¯re not even five feet, and I doubt you¡¯re packing much muscle in those noodle arms,¡± he said. ¡°If we¡¯re being honest, I think I could snap you in half. Literally. So don¡¯t, ¡®cause I¡¯m not.¡±


    An amber Glow enveloped her without a word. His unimpressed expression did not change. Frey had only just started training in the art of bringing out the mana circulating throughout her body, so she could only manage a meager layer of barely an inch. He was right. Her ribs hurt, her back was on fire, and the consequences were coming. She needed him, if only for the moment. If not, whatever injuries she had were about to become much worse.


    2


    Vincenzo noticed that the clock hanging over her head before was back, but it was slightly different. Instead of a single arm ticking and adding color to its surface, it was just a flat red with a number in the middle, kind of like a digital watch. It read: two-hundred-and-ten. He wondered what it meant for a moment, feeling in his gut that there wouldn¡¯t be a fight at all. He was more than okay with that.


    ¡°I kind of like that look on her face,¡± Eyes said, stepping out from behind him.


    Vincenzo jolted before regaining his composure. Frey¡¯s looks softened as she raised an eyebrow in confusion. Don¡¯t worry about him, he told himself. Getting on her good side is the important part. ¡°That other lady¡­ The one with the rocky skin; she should be fine.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± she asked, skeptical.


    ¡°An annoying asshole of a hallucination just screamed right in my ear. It¡¯s really pissing me off at this point,¡± he said. ¡°And unless you could see it too, that means she''s still alive.¡±


    She stared at him without a word before lowering her hands, the amber light dissipating as she did. She hugged herself and started to shiver, her dress still too damp and thin for their environment. They clung to her body in a vulgar sort of way, he thought, so he averted his eyes.


    ¡°I don''t feel bad about killing your brother,¡± he said.


    She kept her silent anger. For a moment, he thought a laser would shoot out of her eyes and blow his brain apart just like Boon tried to. That was how hard she glared.


    ¡°It was a fight to the death¡ªa literal fight to the death, mind you¡ªand not one I started. But instead of begging for his own life he begged for yours,¡± he said, tying the bag around his waist. ¡°I''ve killed a good number of people and that''s the first time that''s happened. I don''t know what it was¡­ Maybe I¡¯m getting soft¡­ But I ended up saying yes. And that''s why we¡¯re here. That¡¯s why I¡ªthe evil moon-man, the son of some all-powerful asshole who¡¯s the king of everything, the dickhead¡ªjumped down to save you! I saved your ass, patched you up, and fed you. So can you just calm down?¡±


    There wasn''t a negative expression on her face anymore, only a blank one.


    ¡°If there is one thing I¡¯m sorry for¡­ it''s your wings¡­¡± he muttered. ¡°I-I''m sorry¡­ I lost control of myself and crippled you because of it¡­ So, I¡¯m sorry¡­ It was¡­¡± But he stopped. Blaming it on a hallucination, no matter how real it seemed, was bullshit. Was he going crazy? He had just blacked out, and when he came to¡­ ¡°Forget it.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you¡­¡± she said, but there was more sadness than anger in it. ¡°That''s why you had to cut his head off, right?! And flaunt it?!¡±


    ¡°If I hadn''t done that, then you¡¯d have killed me up there,¡± he said. ¡°The reason I¡¯m apologizing to you is because we need to work together. We¡¯re at the bottom of an abyss that''s full of giant goddamned insects, and if we¡¯re fighting the entire time: we¡¯re dead. And I don¡¯t want to die because I don¡¯t want to die, and I don¡¯t want you to die because I made a fucking promise! And I intend on keeping it.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± she said. ¡°I was hanging off your neck for a reason. If I fell too, I wouldn¡¯t have cared. As long as you¡¯re dead, I¡¯ll be happy.¡±


    ¡°And I tossed that chain away. I don¡¯t care whether you¡¯re ecstatic or miserable.¡± He stepped closer.


    She brought her hands back up as if it was a challenge. It was definitely some sort of stance, but he couldn''t trace it to anything on earth, only link it to some amateur-looking karate.


    ¡°I''m never going to kill you,¡± he said, stopping to give her about five feet of space. ¡°But you¡¯re allowed to kill me.¡±


    That confused her.


    ¡°You''re going to have an infinite number of chances to do it if we get out of here alive¡ªbut if you fuck up on trying to kill us both now, then I¡¯ll be the one walking free,¡± he explained. ¡°Oh, and you fucked up. You kind of went in this half-awake, half-asleep daze where you tried to drag me down here by tying us together and falling off. But you tied it so shit that you fell off the edge alone.¡± He smiled and furrowed his brows. ¡°Actually, that wouldn¡¯t have even worked if it was tied well. You weigh nothing compared to me. You would¡¯ve just hung there before I pulled you back up. I jumped after you; not before.¡±


    She opened her mouth, fury on her face, and Vincenzo got ready to argue¡ªbut then it closed. She stared, feigning anger, her lip quivering, her big, beautiful green eyes welling up. Soon, she couldn¡¯t even pretend to be angry. ¡°I¡¯m a failure¡­¡± she said, tears rolling down her pink cheeks. She knelt down, hugging her knees as she began to quietly sob.


    Vincenzo watched her cry for a second before realizing it was time to say something¡­ anything. ¡°You¡¯re not a failure,¡± he said, coming even closer. There were two feet between them then, but she made no move away. She was too busy sniffling and wiping her wet cheeks. ¡°You killed me more times than I could count.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, looking up at him. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± She sniffled.


    He pretended not to notice how truly beautiful she was and averted his eyes, knowing it was a very wrong thing to think. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve cracked my bones, smashed my organs, destroyed my throat, and probably something else I¡¯m missing¡­¡± he explained. ¡°And you still had the balls to say you failed¡­ You didn''t fail¡­ I just cheated.¡± He chuckled softly. ¡°Me and this other moon-man tried to kill each other when we first showed up, and I can¡¯t begin to tell you how fucking big this guy was. He was huge! He killed me more times than I could count, but you know why I¡¯m standing here? ¡®Cause I cheated.¡± He let the smile fade. ¡°Gult killed me too. But I cheated. I¡¯m a cheater, Frey. I don¡¯t know why, but I don¡¯t face the same consequences you do.¡± He extended his hand. ¡°Let''s get out of here,¡± he said. ¡°Together. You can kill me later.¡±


    Frey stared at his hand. He knew that she saw it as the hand that killed her brother, which was also fine with him. He wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. ¡°I¡¯ll cooperate on one condition¡­¡± she said, standing up on her own.


    There were only eight inches between them at that point. ¡°What condition?¡± he asked, bringing his hand back to his side.


    ¡°Tell me how to kill you.¡±


    He was surprised for only a second, and then he smiled. He extended his hand again. ¡°Deal!¡±


    They shook hands. Frey had a large grin on her face but there was murder in her eyes. Her scaly hand felt rough and strange, yet also dry and warm. They broke off and stepped back.


    ¡°Just set me on fire and smash my head open over and over,¡± Vincenzo said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m weak to burns; I heal from my head. So do those two things and you''ll kill me in no time. Probably¡­¡±


    Eyes, who¡¯d just been watching, frowned and stepped into Vincenzo¡¯s view. ¡°Jesus Christ! You want to tell her when we stopped pissing the bed, too?! Fucking dumbass¡­¡±


    An awkward silence filled the air as the two stood still, giving the occasional glance to each other before averting their eyes to the darkness around them.


    ¡°So¡­ What is the plan?¡± she finally asked. ¡°How are we getting out of here?¡±


    ¡°No idea¡­¡± he admitted.


    Another silence passed. ¡°Wait¡­ You gave me that entire speech about how we have to work together to get out of here¡­ and you didn''t even have a plan?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± he said. ¡°My only real plan is to keep walking forward and hope we find the exit. It''s way too high to climb¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ We might run into a problem there,¡± she said, looking off into the darkness ahead of them.


    ¡°Don''t worry, we¡¯ll bring torches to keep any creeps away.¡±


    ¡°No, it''s not that¡­ Feather Falling works differently than you think. It creates a window of time where I can make things weightless, and there isn''t a limit to what I could do in that time¡­¡±


    ¡°I was wondering how you were doing it for so long.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that doesn''t mean there aren''t any consequences. I¡¯ve done too much in my timeframe and now I have to pay the price,¡± she said. ¡°Let me ride on your back to show you.¡±


    He looked at her, slightly confused by her request; he still followed it. She was light as a bird, he thought. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and locked them.


    ¡°I feel it coming along now¡­¡± she said, looking up at the clock.


    ¡°Feel wha¡ª¡± he started. Two hundred pounds of extra weight pulled him down! His knees almost buckled as he tried to regain his footing, but he won through in the end. ¡°Jesus!¡± he yelled. ¡°Cosa diavolo?!¡±


    ¡°That''s what I was talking about,¡± she said, her left cheek already pressing hard against the back of his neck. ¡°For the next long while, we¡¯ll be stuck like this.¡±


    ¡°I get why you weigh a shit-ton, but why me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°It spreads between living beings,¡± she said. ¡°If I wasn''t holding onto you, then all the weight would be on me. And with my injuries¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be dead.¡± He clicked his tongue before laying down on his stomach on top of the blanket. She moved her arms and legs out from under him and he immediately became aware of the feel of her: the softness of her breasts pressed up against his back; the fullness of her lips on his neck; and even the texture of her scales was welcome. It turned him on, and it was wrong. The fact that Eyes was into it made him even more sure of that fact. He took a breath in and exhaled it slowly, calming himself down as much as he could. ¡°So we¡¯re grounded, then?¡±


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Pretty much¡­¡± she confirmed. She struggled to turn over with a series of grunts and ¡°accidental¡± stabs into Vincenzo¡¯s back, eventually managing to lay down with her face to the impossibly high trees above. It was infinitely better than before, even if he could feel her ass on his lower back.


    ¡°How¡¯s your ribs?¡±


    ¡°Bad,¡± she said, wincing. ¡°What happened to them? I don¡¯t remember getting hit by you¡­¡± He could hear her frown. ¡°Apart from the end.¡±


    ¡°I broke a couple during CPR.¡±


    ¡°CPR?¡±


    ¡°Thirty chest compressions and¡­ Well, just chest compressions,¡± he lied.


    ¡°You touched my chest?!¡± she said, pressing her talons into his skin.


    He flinched. ¡°Calm down, I just needed to get the water out of your lungs!¡±


    She watched him out of the corner of her eye, retracting her talons, apparently satisfied with his answer. ¡°If you were getting the liquid out, then you must''ve given me the kiss of life too¡­¡±


    He froze up and wondered why she didn''t sound furious. ¡°You aren''t angry?¡± he asked, embarrassed. He didn¡¯t know why he felt that way, but he did.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you later, aren''t I? I can be angry later¡­¡± she said. But there was something in her voice that made him feel even more guilty, even if it was the only thing he could do to save her life. ¡°This will last for a couple of hours, so I¡¯ll be sleeping¡­¡±


    He craned his neck to look at the clock. It read: two-hundred-and-nineteen. And about a minute had passed since the weight came. Three-and-a-half hours, he realized.  ¡°Alright,¡± Vincenzo grunted, staring into the black that stretched for miles out of camp. ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    3


    Time passed and the fire got small again. He thought about sleeping, but that was too dangerous an idea to do anything more than just think. He needed to be awake. Awake and ready.


    ¡°Wow!¡± his hallucination said from out in the dark.


    Vincenzo almost got up before remembering Frey was on his back.


    It rose slowly from the murky pond and approached him. But unlike Frey, there wasn¡¯t a stain of black scum on his white and naked body. It sat down and smiled. Vincenzo hated the fact they looked the same, especially because it¡¯s smiles always managed to convince him that he was the ugliest thing breathing.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Vincenzo said coldly. The weight had lessened, but it was still too great to comfortably raise his head.


    ¡°Are you still mad about the wings?¡± it asked. It furrowed both black brows in confusion. ¡°Because she deserved it! I''m not apologizing if they deserve it¡­¡±


    ¡°Enjoy that time you took control; you aren''t getting another chance.¡± The image of the girl, her back bloody and her face dazed, was still stuck in his head. ¡°I¡¯d kill myself before I¡¯d let you do that again.¡±


    It chuckled. ¡°I don''t know about that¡­ Fire will work for a bit, but how long will that be? I honestly think we¡¯re immortal. Even if we¡¯re burnt to a crisp, I¡¯d bet we¡¯d come back. It¡¯d take a while sure¡ªway, way, way, way longer than usual, probably by a couple hours rather than seconds¡ªbut we¡¯d be fine. Plus, when I take control, I¡¯m gonna give her what else she deserves¡­¡± It squeezed itself with a lecherous grin.


    Vincenzo glared at it, trying not to show how much the eyes covering its body unnerved him. He guessed he wasn¡¯t that convincing. ¡°What the hell do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°People are made of two things¡­¡± it started, leaning back to hide its face in the dark. ¡°Experiences¡ªpositive or negative. And whatever they''re born with. Nature and nurture. I won¡¯t bore you with the details ¡®cause I know you know about it. I know you already understand.¡± Its voice got lower, and there was a rumble in his tone that made Vincenzo realize it was getting serious; that this was how ¡°serious¡± sounded to it. To him, it sounded menacing. ¡°People like to argue about which one matters more, but it doesn''t really matter. It''s the combination that counts, obviously.¡± It paused for a moment and studied him. ¡°I''m nature,¡± it stated. ¡°I don''t have any of your baggage or anything like that. I¡¯m the most basic desire¡­ If that bastard Marco didn¡¯t raise you, and if you weren''t molested¡­ Ha! Isn''t that crazy to think? Getting fucked as a kid actually made you a better person. Jesus, that''s fucked¡­ It¡¯s like a thief getting his house robbed and learning that, ¡®Hey, gettin¡¯ my shit stolen is kind of fucked!¡¯ Yeah, that¡¯s actually exactly it.¡±


    He hated it. It only ranked just under the bastard it referred to on his list of people he truly hated. ¡°So?¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°What''s your goal? What do you want from me? Why are you still here?¡±


    ¡°I just want you to accept what you are,¡± it claimed. ¡°All the rest of this¡­¡± It looked at Frey, but Vincenzo guessed it was referring to everything he was trying to do. ¡°It''s just a distraction, isn''t it? I¡¯m the real you.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. You¡¯re just some instinct in the back of my mind. Something I¡¯ve outgrown,¡± Vincenzo said, his voice soft as to not wake the girl on his back. ¡°You¡¯re nothing.¡±


    ¡°See, now that''s the interesting part! You¡¯d be right if it was just some dark thought that you¡¯d dismissed immediately, but that''s not the case. Why deprive yourself? I already know everything about you, so there''s no point in not mentioning it¡­ But I¡¯m going to anyway. Why haven''t you cum in two whole years? Who do you think you¡¯re protecting?¡±


    He didn''t answer.


    ¡°After you lost your virginity, you never jacked off, had sex, or even tried. Why is that?¡± it questioned with a knowing smile. ¡°Was it punishment? Yes, that was a part of it¡­ but there was something else. When you were fucking, what was the best part? I''ll tell you: it was the beginning when she wasn''t used to it¡ªwhen it hurt. You slowly lost interest when she began to enjoy herself¡­ Do you want to know why? Because it isn''t something you understand either¡­¡± It waited for a response with a quiet and smug smile.


    ¡°Enlighten me¡­¡± It seemed like it was going to tell him anyway.


    It didn''t speak for a moment as it reveled in the pleasure of keeping the secret. ¡°We live to take,¡± it said. ¡°That''s what our blood is: a family of takers. But don¡¯t feel bad. Takers are the winners in the game of life. And by a wide margin.¡±


    Vincenzo glowered, quiet.


    ¡°Ya¡¯ know it. I know it. It''s the truth¡­¡± it said, leaning closer. ¡°This is something you will never escape.¡± Then it leaned back, satisfied. ¡°I''m getting stronger, ya¡¯ know¡­ If you need proof: open your eyes.¡±


    They shut; he tried to open them but found himself unable. His eyes wouldn''t open, no matter how much he tried. It was almost like they¡¯d been glued shut. ¡°W-what?! What the hell did you do?!¡±


    ¡°Slowly but surely, I¡¯m getting stronger. I¡¯m like a parasite or something,¡± it laughed. ¡°Don''t confuse what I''m doing for some kind of hatred for you; after all, we¡¯re the same person.¡±


    His eyes finally opened, but not due to his effort¡ªit allowed them to open. ¡°Then why can''t you just leave me alone?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re squandering your potential,¡± it said. ¡°And this is a world where that potential could be fully realized. Back on Earth, you were a slave to your fragile body. One shot; one stab; a disease; hell, even a hard enough punch could take you out. But now¡­ now you¡¯re immortal. Nothing can stop you.¡± It seemed almost proud. ¡°Our dad is proof of that. He¡¯s the king of everything.¡± It let that last statement hang before continuing with even more gusto. ¡°We are takers! That¡¯s what separates us from the rest of the stupid sheep of the world! And we didn¡¯t choose to be takers, NO, we were born takers! The only thing that can stop us is death and violence, but now we¡¯re above even that. If you want it, take it. Take someone''s money if you¡¯re feeling poor. Take someone''s life if you don¡¯t feel like they shouldn¡¯t have one.¡± It leaned even closer, just inches from his face. The black eyes on its cheeks, shoulders, and chest staring at him with the same glee in their master¡¯s eyes. ¡°If you want a woman, take her¡ªtears and all. The struggle will make it even sweeter; I promise you that.¡± It leaned even closer, resulting in just a couple centimeters to separate them, its black eyes terrible. He hated them. Vincenzo detested everything about it. ¡°All you have to do is let me take over. I¡¯m the path to happiness. To fulfillment. You felt empty because you never got the chance to take. I can be that chance.¡± It finally backed up and stood, a look of faint disappointment and excitement on its ugly face. ¡°I can look inside your mind, Vincenzo. I could see you still don''t believe me, or don¡¯t want to believe me. Whatever. In the end, I¡¯ll make sure we¡¯re happy. Morality is a construct. It¡¯s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. Fuck or be fucked. See you later.¡±


    It dematerialized into a cloud of ivory smoke.


    Eyes was about to take the top spot on his hating list. He hated the way its eyes sucked in light, the way it smiled, the way it laughed, the way it talked, the fact that it existed. Every word was shit¡ªa bad lie. He loved her. Vincenzo knew he loved Alice. He knew it because of how much he missed her, and how much he hated himself for what happened. He loved the red of her frizzy hair, her green eyes, and even the extra weight that made holding her feel so nice. He even came to love the hook in her nose that he found off-putting the first time he saw her. He loved making love to her. He wasn¡¯t bored. He loved making her feel good. And he hated the small gasps of pain and tears that came when he pushed in her for the first time. Eyes was nothing but a liar.


    The light died for a moment, striking fear into him, before rising up again and filling the area in a dull glow. He¡¯d have to throw some more wood in soon. Best not to think of it, he thought, realizing just how little the girl on his back weighed. How long we got? He looked up and behind him to try and find the clock above her head, but there was nothing. Frey seemed to be sleeping deeply. He carefully twisted his body, trying to set her down on the dry leaves that piled next to them without waking her, and managed to succeed, lying her on her side so she wouldn¡¯t put any weight on her back. She didn¡¯t look like she was in pain. She looked like she was angry, even in sleep. He waved the pink hair covering her face away and studied her expression, self-conscious of how creepy that made him. I¡¯m just curious, he told himself. Whether that was true or not, he didn¡¯t know. He definitely felt something from looking at her, but whether it was pity, appreciation, or something darker, he couldn¡¯t tell.


    Her eyebrows were narrowed, her eyes shut tight, her lips frowning. What was she dreaming about? Probably killing me, he thought. He didn¡¯t like her expression at all. Was that how I looked? Is that the face Pasha saw? No, mine was worse. He would¡¯ve looked into my eyes. At least here, hers are closed. Gult saw my face when he died. That was why he didn¡¯t hold anything against her, even when her goal was sacrificing Plum to his father. If he refused her, what did that make him? The only reason he was there was because he wanted revenge, and him being there resulted in saving Plum. That had to mean something.


    ¡°Hey, wake up¡­¡± he whispered, poking her shoulder.


    She stirred awake and threw his hand away. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°You weigh a lot less, you don¡¯t need to touch me anymore,¡± said Vincenzo.


    ¡°Why wake me? You manage to set me down without doing that¡­¡±


    He looked at her blankly, realizing his mistake. ¡°Oh! Yeah, sorry¡­¡± he said. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡±


    She kept an eye on him as she rolled onto her back and laid the back of her head on her palms, apparently numb to the pain. Vincenzo watched as he snacked on a bit of dried meat. The skirt of her dress only ended above her knee, and the fabric itself wasn¡¯t rigid at all. He could see every delicate curve, the shape of her breast, the very light swell of her stomach, and even the dip in her navel. Why couldn¡¯t she have been ugly? He concentrated on the darkness surrounding them instead.


    She opened her eyes and looked over to him. ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve got a question.¡±


    He looked over to her and made sure not to make any kind of eye contact. The color of her eyes reminded him a bit of Alice¡¯s, and considering how he was feeling, that wasn¡¯t a great thing. ¡°I thought you went to sleep?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood now that you¡¯ve woken me,¡± she said, sounding annoyed. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten strong enough.¡±


    He could hear the curiosity in her¡ªeven though she was attempting to sound threatening¡ªsoothing voice. For a second he thought he might be falling in love with her, but he discarded that instantly. He knew it was because she was an attractive and, to his discomfort, voluptuous woman in a white dress that clung to her tight. A dress so thin he could see the hint of her soft, pink skin underneath¡­ That, and the beast was right. He hadn''t touched himself or a woman in two years.


    Am I lonely? he asked himself. He¡¯d never considered it. After what happened to him as a child, the idea of sex and everything along with it repulsed him. And for the first fifteen years of his life, that was fine. But then he met Alice. And after Alice¡­ well, he kept ignoring it. And it was fine then, too. But was it really? he questioned. Or was I just never near any? That had some truth to it too. When Geno enlisted him, he still acted as if he didn¡¯t want anything like that. But now, on top of his past, he didn¡¯t think it was fair¡ªfair to Alice. Why did he get to find pleasure in someone, when she¡¯d never get to do anything with anyone ever again? So he never accompanied the group to a whorehouse even after an invitation, but it went even beyond that¡ªhe didn¡¯t interact with any woman. He didn¡¯t even talk to the men. Yes, that¡¯s it, he thought, feeling hopeless and disgusted with himself. I¡¯m just a creep. Was Eyes right about that part? Did he want Frey? He threw one more glance at her and retreated his vision up. Yes, I do. He couldn¡¯t even look at her without stripping her in his mind. But it doesn¡¯t matter whether he was right or not, he decided. He was wrong about the important part. I¡¯m not going to touch her. I know I won¡¯t. I¡¯m just sex deprived. He was a little happy with that. He wouldn¡¯t touch Frey. He was a bad guy, but he wasn¡¯t like that. He wasn¡¯t that bad. And, for the moment, he could ignore that side of himself.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he said, pretending to take interest in the bark of a nearby tree. ¡°Ask away.¡±


    She rolled onto her side again and rested her head on a scaled hand. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°From these small interactions, I can tell you aren''t a complete monster. There''s some vestige of compassion within you¡­¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I guess,¡± he said.


    ¡°It wasn''t meant as praise. It was just an observation. I just want to know how you could kill Gult and also try your damndest to save some kid you barely know,¡± she said. ¡°Make it make sense to me.¡±


    He didn''t answer. He was too busy thinking about that himself. Who was he? What was he even doing?


    ¡°Well?¡± she said, impatient.


    ¡°Like my life story? ¡®Cause I don''t think I could pin it down to one specific thing¡­¡± he replied.


    ¡°Go ahead. After all, we''ve got time to slay,¡± she answered, closing her eyes.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°But there''s only one thing I need to share. But I¡¯ll warn you: it''s long. So get comfortable.¡±


    4


    Vincenzo remembered one event that he could attribute to changing the entire course of his life, and why that life ended up so short. He remembered the fast, dark drive into the forest, the sweat on Marco¡¯s forehead and his heavy breathing, and the wooden house they pulled up to. And he remembered him: the heavy man with muscular arms, red hair on the sides of his head with none on the top, a hook in his nose, a scar running down his left eye, and one green eye. He remembered how he didn¡¯t like him from the start. Marco took him from the car and walked him over to the man.


    ¡°That him?¡± the man on the porch said.


    ¡°Do you really have to do this?¡± Marco had asked. ¡°This is sick, Lenny.¡± Vincenzo clung to Marco¡¯s leg and hid from the stranger. Marco looked from the stranger to his son and back at the stranger. ¡°Come on, Lenny. We were friends once. This is sick. This isn¡¯t going to make you feel any better.¡±


    Lenny walked from the porch. ¡°Once,¡± he corrected. ¡°You were a friend once. What are you now? Nothing but a degenerate junkie. Is. That. Him?¡±


    Marco looked at him for a long time before dropping his gaze. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Give him here.¡±


    Vincenzo protested, hiding behind Marco with tears in his eyes. Even though he had no idea what was in store, he still knew that the man, Lenny, was a bad man.


    But Marco pushed him forwards anyways, and the man clasped a strong hand on his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re doing the right thing, Marco,¡± Lenny said. ¡°After this, it¡¯s over. Debts are cleared. Crimes absolved.¡±


    Marco didn¡¯t look like he believed that. ¡°You won¡¯t hurt him, right?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± Lenny growled. ¡°He¡¯s going to get hurt. Nothing permanent, though, like we agreed.¡±


    Vincenzo started to cry.


    Lenny gripped his shoulder tighter. ¡°Best leave before this gets difficult. Here.¡± He handed Marco a paper bag. ¡°I put in some extra.¡±


    Marco nodded and turned, never looking Vincenzo in the eye as he got in his car and backed away.


    Vincenzo stayed for almost a week. Other men came through as well.


    Twelve years later, at fifteen, he was walking down the street, before his hand shot out and grabbed a woman by the wrist. She had frizzy red hair, a little extra weight, green eyes, freckles that looked like they¡¯d been arranged with a shotgun blast, and a hooked nose. Her name was Alice, and she was nothing like her father. She was timid, and sweet, and nervous, and he hated her like he hated her father, but he didn¡¯t show it. It was the first lead he¡¯d had in years¡ªMarco never explained himself, the asshole¡ªand he was not going to let it go to waste. They went on dates, they kissed, and they said they loved each other. Vincenzo was sure that Alice loved him, but at the time, he didn¡¯t care. The thought of killing Lenny was all he cared about.


    At least until half a year passed. There wasn¡¯t any great event that changed his feelings on the girl, but his feelings did change. If there was anything he could attribute it to, it would be the times she¡¯d come over to his apartment¡ªalways when Marco was working, Vincenzo knowing that he¡¯d recognize her¡ªand they¡¯d watch random movies and shows. He remembered the moment his heart first jumped when he was with her, and it was when she sat on his lap and kissed him gently on the cheek. He¡¯d been kissed a thousand times like that before, but for some reason, it felt different that time. He kissed her back, deep on the lips, and felt the jolt again. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder with a cute smile, her red hair in his face, and he watched the show with a strange sense of detachment. He tried to shove these feelings down and discredit them, but he couldn¡¯t, and they got stronger¡­ Just like his hunger for his true goal.


    One night, on their eleven-month anniversary, he finally decided to seal the deal. Over their months together he learned the following things: her house was on yet another street named Via Roma; it was a mansion with cameras and guards; and her father never left the property. He loved that part. In his mind, Lenny was hiding in fear of him. He was right to be scared, Vincenzo thought. He managed to convince Alice to let him in her home in exchange for more than a kiss. So, on their twelve-month anniversary, he snuck in.


    He loved her, and while she was sleeping, he left her.


    5


    Frey was sitting up at that point. ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°And then I found him. He was in this red robe that he hadn¡¯t tied around his stomach, sitting in this fancy chair. He looked different¡ªhis hair was grey, he had dark bags under his eyes, he put on even more weight¡ªbut he was still instantly recognizable.¡±


    ¡°Then?¡±


    He glared at her. ¡°What do you think I fucking did? I tried to kill him. There were some candles lit nearby. They rolled over by some drapes¡­¡± He stopped and stood up, looking away with one hand covering his face. ¡°And that¡¯s when the fire started.¡±


    Frey watched him with wide eyes. ¡°And the girl?¡± she asked, leaning forward. There was no anger in her voice at that point¡ªonly curiosity. ¡°What happened to her?¡±


    He was silent for a long time, just gazing far into the dark. Finally, after almost a minute, he looked back at her with his black eyes. ¡°She died. I didn¡¯t mean for it to happen.¡± His voice began to grow hoarse. ¡°But that''s how it happened.¡± He sat back down, looking defeated. ¡°I just kind of floated around after that¡­ And then some associates of mine killed Marco, and I tried to get revenge again.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°And then I¡¯m here. I did it, but I died. You want to know how I died?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°I burned. Took a flamethrower to the face¡­¡± He managed a smile. ¡°And that¡¯s my story. Now tell me, Frey, what do you make of it?¡±


    The bird-girl didn¡¯t say anything for a long time. ¡°Did you really love her? Truly?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I did. I can see that now.¡±


    ¡°So why did you leave her?¡± she asked. ¡°You told me you felt happy in bed with her. That you were contemplating just staying in bed with her. What changed?¡±


    He frowned, running a hand over the short hair growing on his head. ¡°Nothing changed,¡± he said. ¡°That was the whole thing. It¡¯s what stayed the same that made me sneak out.¡± He stared into her eyes, a sadness in his own. ¡°I hated him more than I loved her. And now Alice is dead. In my world, I¡¯m dead.¡± He sighed. ¡°Now I¡¯m here, and trying to figure out why.¡±

 The Mother

    Plum was dreaming. Or at least, that''s what she thought. She sat on a large stone near the edge of a cliff that overlooked an endless sea.


    She¡¯d never seen the sea before, yet somehow she felt the rolling waves, green color, and white foam were the perfect representation. She wore a dress of broad green leaves and felt an extreme sense of peace under the blue and cloudy sky, as a never-ending breeze flowed along the edge and out to the ocean. At least it''s a nice dream, she thought.


    ¡°You¡¯re half correct,¡± a feminine voice said.


    She turned to see her mother near the edge of a forest wearing similar garb, not even twenty feet away. Her smile told Plum she expected some kind of sweet reunion. Instead, Plum turned back to the infinite waters. ¡°Why didn''t you tell me?¡± she whispered.


    ¡°T-tell you what?¡± Locine said.


    ¡°That I¡¯m killing people!¡± Plum said. Her gaze stayed on the waves crashing against each other and the jagged crop of rocks rising out of the ocean. ¡°I got her son killed¡­ I smelled something weird on my way into fall, a disgusting burning smell¡­ I didn¡¯t think about it, but they were probably people, too,¡± she said, curling her legs tight against her chest. ¡°There are others¡ªall the people dying of some disease they can''t ever hope to cure¡­ I killed you.¡±


    Locine sat next to her. ¡°You didn''t kill anybody. And you certainly didn''t kill me.¡±


    Plum stayed silent and motionless.


    ¡°It''s a hard world we live in; a hard existence I should say¡­ That''s something Cammo would say all the time,¡± Locine giggled. ¡°He never was the brightest ray of sunshine¡­ but he was smart, and compassionate. You got that part of him.¡±


    She tried to pull Plum a little closer, but Plum moved away as her arms drew near.


    ¡°You can hate me all you want,¡± Locine said. ¡°But I like to think we did the right thing; not telling you, that is¡­¡±


    ¡°I never said I hated you¡­¡± Plum stated. ¡°I just want to know why¡­¡±


    Locine turned her attention to the long rolling grass beneath them that seemed to shimmer in the wind. ¡°You¡¯re a child. Someone who¡¯s naive and innocent about how the world works. Your first thought¡ªif the invaders had good intentions¡ªwould be to sacrifice yourself,¡± she said. ¡°The way a child thinks. Plus, you probably wouldn¡¯t understand the reasons why we did what we did¡­¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I don''t want to hear that from you,¡± Plum said, raising her head. ¡°Papa can say that because that''s the kind of person he is, but not you. You were the one protecting me¡­ You¡¯re the one who didn''t just treat me like some kid¡­ I want to know why, and you still haven''t answered me.¡±


    Locine looked surprised for just a second before giving her daughter a wan smile. ¡°You¡¯re more like your father than you''ll ever know,¡± she replied. ¡°It isn''t even a concrete reason¡­ Honey, you didn''t do anything wrong, and you¡¯re not a mistake. How can you be guilty if you didn''t commit the crime? Do you remember killing anyone? Of course not, you''re not the one who did it.¡±


    ¡°But I could end it,¡± said Plum. ¡°I could save all of them.¡±


    ¡°That isn''t your responsibility,¡± her mother said, scooting back over. ¡°You never did anything to deserve it. It''s just the work of evil people to get children like you snatched up. You know¡­ this disease that killed me wasn''t even a natural one¡­ I knew the moment I had it, that it was something someone was forcing on me.¡±


    Plum finally looked her mother in the eyes. She knew how guilty they must have looked from the way her mother looked guilty right back, as if she felt it were her fault too.


    ¡°Someone else killed me,¡± she claimed. ¡°And the deaths in combat are your father¡¯s sins, and his alone. That boy who participated¡­ Do you know why he did it?¡±


    Plum shook her head.


    ¡°Because he thought it was the right thing to do,¡± Locine stated. ¡°He said he¡¯d done a lot of bad things in his life and thought saving you was a good thing. Are you going to tell him he was wrong? Especially when he thought it right?¡±


    Plum exploded. ¡°Stop trying to make me feel better! I don''t want that from you! Just tell me what you REALLY think!¡± She was standing up, then. ¡°I don''t care if it hurts, if it makes me feel like garbage, I just want the truth!¡± she said, hot tears streaming.


    Locine nodded and got up herself, standing knee deep in the long grass. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you¡­¡± she started. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry this is how our reunion had to play out¡­ But the truth is: what we''re doing is going to get a lot of people killed. But those deaths aren''t on you. They¡¯re on me, Cammo, and that boy¡­¡±


    Plum cried hard as she hopped to the ground. Locine stared at her from above with compassion, before kneeling down to hug her. Plum wrapped her arms around her and sobbed violently. Locine¡¯s smell, the warmth emanating from her, the soft and gentle embrace she provided¡­ all these things comforted Plum, even if it did last just a moment.


    ¡°I understand how you feel about it. How you want to go with her¡­¡± Locine said. ¡°But you have the right to fight for your life¡­¡±


    Plum nodded, unable to speak due to her sobs.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Locine said, and kissed her gently on the forehead. ¡°This is this Crater¡¯s secret. It lets you say goodbye. If only people knew¡­¡±


    And then Plum fell forward into the grass, her mother gone, leaving her alone. Was that really her? Did she really come back to life in a dream? Or was it something more? Plum was too busy sobbing to really think about that, but she wasn¡¯t too busy to think about what she said. I have the right, she thought. Because, in all honesty, she didn¡¯t want to die. I have the right.

 The Curse

    1


    Vincenzo explained the curse too. ¡°That¡¯s how I know that other woman¡¯s alive; the rock one, I mean. I still feel it¡­¡± he said. ¡°If I change, you need to kill me.¡±


    She smiled, but for the first time since they met there was humor in it. ¡°I was planning on that anyways,¡± she replied, getting up. ¡°I think we¡¯ve overstayed our welcome.¡±


    The fire was the dimmest it had ever been. He stared at it, watching every dance of the flame and wondered when it¡¯d eventually die out. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯ve heard them too, right?¡± he questioned, loading two shells into Heavy Metal. ¡°I don¡¯t like the sound of it.¡±


    ¡°If you''re talking about the sound of legs skittering in the darkness, then yes,¡± Frey answered. ¡°They¡¯re getting louder; more confident¡­ They¡¯re probably going to make their move soon.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know if insects can really plan,¡± Vincenzo said, pulling off the tattered cloth of his sleeve. He couldn¡¯t even feel the cold anymore, the adrenaline already beginning to pump.


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. A lot of monsters can catch you off guard if you¡¯re not careful. It''s best to assume that they''re intelligent,¡± she advised.


    ¡°Catch,¡± he said, tossing something to her.


    She caught it and held it out in front of her¡ªit was the knife from earlier. The same knife that clipped her wings, silver and shining in the glow of a dying flame.


    He could tell she was confused on what exactly to do with it. ¡°I get that''s probably not the weapon you want, but it''s all I have,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°If they attack, just hang back. I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°What if I stabbed you in the back?¡± she asked, the hint of humor in her voice from before gone. ¡°It¡¯d be easy.¡±


    ¡°Then I guess you stab me in the back,¡± he replied. ¡°The closer you are to the fire is the safer you''ll be.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she said.


    The skittering noise lessened. Something about it made him ready his weapon, but after a minute of silence he calmed down. We might die here, he thought, feeling strangely relaxed. And if we die, we¡¯ll get eaten. He realized the moment she asked him about his past that all he did was confess, and they were selfish confessions. That wasn¡¯t fair to her. If they were going to die there, she might as well have a nice thought to take to the grave. ¡°He almost won by the way,¡± Vincenzo said.


    ¡°Who?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Gult,¡± he clarified. ¡°I blew past that part when I was talking with you for obvious reasons. I was off¡­ fighting¡­ the other guys and came back to find Cammo on the ropes. He was vomiting. He was dazed. And he would¡¯ve lost, too, if I hadn¡¯t shown up.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± she asked, gripping the leather tight. ¡°Now¡¯s not the time.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± he repeated. He shrugged. ¡°Thought you might wanna hear something good. Thought you might wanna hear that it wasn¡¯t like he was messed up. He just got unlucky.¡±


    Frey grew quiet and pointed in front of him. ¡°Get ready.¡±


    He turned to see something crawl out of the wall of black, dark legs tapping the soft leaves in the light as if testing whether or not they¡¯d burst into flames. There was about six feet between him and it, and about twelve feet from the center of their camp. It was going to be tight, he knew. And he also knew that his arachnophobia was about to get ten times worse¡­ Well, he thought, aiming from the hip. No use dragging this out.


    He fired at the first one to investigate, and knew he hit it by the scream. But, for just the briefest of seconds, the flash of his barrel painted a picture: spiders of Plum¡¯s height, furry and black, with eight red eyes and huge black fangs, and the white shape of a skull on their thorax. Vincenzo couldn¡¯t count them all.


    He condensed his feelings about the situation in one simple word:


    ¡°Merde.¡±


    All at once, they pounced! He fired again, breaking three into a shower a green blood and guts before the rest piled on top, their fangs piercing his skin and muscle like they were made of jello. He managed to put in two more shells while frantically shaking, firing twice, killing a couple more, before ten others weighed him down. I¡¯m going to die, he thought. His knees started to buckle from the weight, the pain, and¡­ the fear. Their legs squeezed his limbs, grinding his skin and sucking the blood that came with something slimy that he couldn¡¯t see. I¡¯m going to die! A fang cut into his black eye, causing him to cry out in agony as he fell to the floor. He was stuck in the dark again¡­ Stuck in that shack with him. The memories flooded from cracks forming the dam in his mind, and a pain worse than tiny knives stabbing him accompanied it.


    ¡°No!¡± he protested, anger and sheer will pushing him off the ground. ¡°I refuse! I¡¯m not going to die! YOU HEAR ME?!¡±


    The spiders hissed, cutting into his ears like another set of fangs.


    But what could he do? He still gripped onto Heavy Metal, but he couldn¡¯t load it. He had no knife¡ªFrey had the knife. So what could he do? It was the next ten seconds of torture that filled him with inspiration¡­ and any idea, no matter how insane, needed to be considered. If they¡¯re eating me, he thought, gripping something furry. Then I just have to repay the favor.


    He bit down.


    2


    Frey caught a glimpse of the moon-man beneath the pile, just a sliver of white in the black. She watched, frozen, until a passing spider ran past her and jumped to join the slaughter, hissing at her as it went. They gave her the fire a wide berth as they ran, doing the same for her, but to a lesser extent. Her Glow was protecting her¡ªthin as it was. But how much longer would that go on? She gripped the knife tight and started creeping towards the fire, her every step light as she made it so, the clock ticking above her head. She could kill two birds with one stone. All she had to do was grab some embers, light the blanket, and set the pile ablaze. That was her best bet. She knelt down slowly and grabbed the blanket, before holding it over the dying flame for just a moment, setting it alight as well as showering the dimming arena in a new glow. And she tossed it on the pile.


    The crawling horde went up just as quickly as the blanket did, flames spreading between bugs like a virus, until the few that weren¡¯t burned skittered off into the dark again, hissing as they retreated!


    ¡°Wow,¡± was all Frey could say to the bonfire. ¡°No wonder they hate it.¡±


    She was alive, if only for the moment¡­ And she¡¯d done it. Under that pile made of the moon-man¡¯s worst fear, he was burning.


    A pale hand broke through the leaves in front of the light! The moon-man came up, stained with the gunk of decaying leaves and whatever else was underneath the layers upon layers of foliage. He spit out some green glob and complained: ¡°Nasty. That was nasty as hell.¡±


    I knew it was too good to be true, she thought. He pulled his gun from beneath and his entire body soon after. ¡°Grounds soft¡­ I mean, it¡¯s made of leaves. Real easy to get through¡± he mumbled with a frown. ¡°Fuck spiders, and¡­ thank you.¡±


    She sneered at him. ¡°If I didn''t set them on fire then they''d eventually turn on me¡­¡± But before she could continue, the sound of something else approaching caught her attention. It sounded big¡ªmuch, much, much bigger than the others that came. ¡°Besides, I wouldn¡¯t thank me just yet.¡±


    ¡°One thing after another, huh?¡± he said, loading two more thingies into his cannon. A large and slim creature approached the edge of the camp, careful not to approach the fleshy bonfire while its two large eyes studied them closely. Its arrow-like head and pitch-black keratin reflected the fire''s glow. Short black spikes jutted out along its four legs and body while its two arms were practically armed with sawblades¡­ It dwarfed them both in height, taller than even the moon-man by two times. Frey might¡¯ve felt braver if she still had her club, but how she might¡¯ve felt didn¡¯t matter. She felt like the knife in her hands wouldn¡¯t be enough.


    He pulled her behind him and fired two shots right after another, the Boom! of his cannon forcing her hands to her ears. Did he get it? she asked. She looked to see. The mantis had leaned back a bit, its mandibles chittering together, its footing off by a negligible amount. The answer was a no. She turned to see how the moon-man would respond.


    ¡°Just stand back,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I need to tell you to run if it goes bad, either.¡±


    It launched towards them just as fast as its miniature counterpart would¡¯ve. The moon-man¡ªalmost as if he had precognition with how quick he reacted¡ªthrew his arm backwards and knocked Frey away. It wrapped its arms around his waist, crushing him¡ªwhich brought on a long, tortured scream¡ªto the point Frey could hear the bones crack, while it dragged his head closer to its chittering mandibles. She saw the man load his cannon again and ram the barrel inside its maw, his teeth grit and his face a picture of fury. An explosive blast broke the bottom of its jaw in a mess of keratin and black goo¡ªbut that didn¡¯t save him. Its arms squeezed even tighter. ¡°CAZZO!¡± he screamed, bleeding from the mouth.


    It ripped him in two, holding each half in each arm.


    She ran.


    3


    Frey¡¯s Glow was the only source of light and she knew that she couldn¡¯t have been too far from escape, and her brother¡¯s killer was going to die¡ªtruly, this time. But, on the cusp of what was victory, something nagged her.


    That''s a painful way to die, isn''t it?


    ¡°Of course, he deserves it after all,¡± she said as she ran.


    Does he? Would Gult have deserved that?


    ¡°No!¡±


    Well, he was going to do the same thing, wasn''t he?


    ¡°Shut up!¡± she said. ¡°Just shut up! That¡¯s not the same at all¡­¡±


    Would Gult have wanted this?


    She stopped, panting hard, and rested with her hands on her knees. Gult was a lot of things¡­ but he was never a hypocrite. He knew what might happen when he left to get the girl, and he even told Frey that he wouldn¡¯t be surprised¡ªor even mad¡ªif he ended up dying. Would he have wanted this? For some reason, she never thought to ask that question¡­


    Do I really want this?


    Her brain was wracked with bitter confusion, cursing herself and the moon-man for making her so indecisive. It was his stupid story that made it so difficult, after all. She finally asked the question whose answer would solve everything: ¡°What do I want?¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    4


    Vincenzo fired two more shells into one of its legs, blowing it off its balance for the smallest of moments¡ªbut the insect was too efficient to let the inconvenience be anything more. It slammed the dull side of its arm into his stomach, carrying him for the first half of its swing, and sent him soaring away from the light of the fire and into the wide trunk of a tree. He felt almost every bone break the moment he flattened against the bark, falling to the ground from almost ten feet up. He gripped Heavy Metal tight in his right hand, knowing that it was his only shot at survival. It stared at him in the dark, its segmented eyes devoid of all emotion. He knew that to it, he was one thing: prey. This was its domain: a land where the sun never pierced; where the darkness was a void; where muck and decay were king and queen. He shuddered and rose, the cold air of the forest floor cutting into his bare and bloody skin.


    Whether it was firepower, his physical strength, his mental ability¡ªnone of it was enough. Then, just as he blinked, the mantis darted towards him, its silhouette growing to the point he could barely see the light behind it. He fired at it again, flattening his back against rough wood, painting the insect in a flash of orange like the white of a camera¡ªin that flash, he saw its saw-arm stretched high over its head¡­


    Crunch!


    A warm trickle of blood seeped out of the gap in his skull as it pulled its arm out. It split my head in half, he thought, the strangeness of it all combined with the wound making him feel detached. Right in half¡ª


    Crunch!


    As his face was painted, he pulled his weapon close to his chest with his right arm, using his left to¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªto make some shells out of the tree his back was against. But what he did with those shots¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªwas something he needed to figure out quick. He was already running low on mana, and there was no telling¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªhow much more he could take. He couldn¡¯t even tell how much time went by between the swings. His¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªmind went blank the moment his skull split¡ª


    Crunch!


    He still had so much to do. He couldn¡¯t¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªdie there. He loaded his shotgun¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªand took aim¡ª


    Crunch!


    ¡ªand fired once at the spot he thought its exposed mandibles would be! It made no noise as it staggered back, but just from the crunch of leaves under its legs, Vincenzo was able to fire at its head again. He sprinted past it and back to the fire¡ªback to life. Eat that, you cunt, his mind thought giddily. Eat that and choke on it! His victory was short lived, however, as he could hear the rapid crunch of leaves sound in pursuit. He turned, fired at where he thought its head would be, and used the recoil to roll backwards, get back to his feet, and keep running without losing speed. He didn¡¯t even have time to register what he saw in the flash¡ªit was just random shapes to him at that point. Still, the crunch of leaves only grew louder behind him. ¡°Merde!¡± he said, breathless. Even though it was slower than before¡ªno longer did it have the almost supernatural speed that made it so dangerous¡ªit was still gaining on him. ¡°Merde! Merde! Merde!¡± He saved a shell for the light ahead, knowing he could land another good hit against its face if it wasn¡¯t pitch black. It was only a couple feet behind him, he could hear, but so was the fire in front. ¡°MERDE! MERDE! MERDE! MERDE! MERDE!¡±


    He heard a whoosh! just behind his head of what he guessed was a swing, and dove out of the void, turning his body in midair, and aiming the gun up to its face as it stepped out of the abyss. His mind, working faster than it ever had before, drank in every detail of its mangled face: one of its compound eyes was dangling from a black thread, its lower maw was a gaping wound, and its antennae were crooked and snapped.


    He pointed the barrel into its thin neck and pulled the trigger as it tried to pounce, splattering him in a thick layer of mucky goo, and sending its head off far behind him! Its body stood upright, staggered back and forth as it walked around the arena as if it were drunk and alive, and fell down, rigid. It didn¡¯t move again.


    ¡°I won,¡± he first said, almost in disbelief. He got up, wiped the gunk off his face, and looked down at its head on the ground. ¡°I won,¡± he said, that time sure. He kicked the head into the fire. ¡°Cunt.¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡± someone said.


    He whirled around with Heavy Metal in hand, his adrenaline still pumping. But then he recognized her. The bird-girl had come back. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± he asked, resting the barrels on his shoulder. He smiled. ¡°I thought you hated me.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± she said, averting her eyes from his nudity. ¡°But I figured out what I want¡­¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    She looked him in the eyes. ¡°To defeat you. I want to defeat you. For Gult. For Buta. For Slogine. And for everyone relying on that girl. When we go back up, I¡¯ll wait for you to be at full capacity. You¡¯ll do the same. And we¡¯ll settle this. Whoever wins gets to continue.¡± She looked a little sad. ¡°I can sympathize with your story, but I can¡¯t forgive you for what you¡¯ve done. And you¡¯re in my way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Vincenzo said, grinning even wider. ¡°I don¡¯t need your forgiveness.¡± He leveled the shotgun at her right knee and fired!


    The force of the pellets ripped the bottom of her leg off her body as she fell onto her stomach, a mix of shock and unexplainable pain on her face as her breath caught in her lungs. Her eyes were as wide as her mouth, both open to almost comical proportions. She started to gasp for air, tears streaming, getting ready to cry out while burying her face in the leaves. Vincenzo sauntered close, his gun resting on his shoulder. She looked up at him and seemed to realize who she was speaking to. It wasn¡¯t ¡°Vincenzo¡± anymore. It was someone else.


    She took in a breath, trying her best not to sob¡ªbut she did both badly. ¡°Mercy¡­¡±


    Vincenzo chuckled, letting the end of both barrels naturally fall in front of her face. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. But I¡¯ll make it quick.¡±


    5


    Plum woke up to see Buta kicking the camp apart. She was properly dressed for the cold outside and the blizzard seemed to have calmed a fair bit, and from the way she was moving, her wounds had healed. The fire had died down to small embers, and those embers were currently smothered by snow. The light of the morning¡ªa dull grey¡ªbled into the cave. Plum pulled her boots back on and stood. Buta glanced over at her, away, and back again.


    ¡°All right, let''s go,¡± Buta said.


    Plum looked at her for a moment, a strange resolve growing within her chest. She had no idea where it came from, but its message was clear. The emp looked up at the rock-skinned woman and said, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Buta said. Her four eyes came alive with fury where there used to be apathy; the transformation was so fast, Plum guessed that it was what the Hiddunson really thought of her. ¡°Do you have any idea of what that means?¡± She approached Plum with the threatening stomp of something much larger, and the emp pressed against the wall. The hiddunson crouched to her level, just half a foot from her face. ¡°People will die. You understand that?¡±


    ¡°I agree, and I¡¯d go with you in a heartbeat¡­ But¡­ I can¡¯t. Not willingly¡­¡± Plum explained, careful not to stutter. A stutter meant she wasn¡¯t sure, but Plum was feeling anything but indecisive. She wouldn¡¯t let Buta terrify her. ¡°If you beat us, then I won''t complain.¡± Vincenzo and my papa will save me, she told herself. They won¡¯t lose¡­ But, if they did, I¡¯d be okay with going. They¡¯d fight for her because she couldn¡¯t fight herself. ¡°I won¡¯t go.¡±


    Buta¡¯s four cat-like red eyes watched her with real anger, before she just stopped. The muscles of her face, once clenched, relaxed. She let out a long breath that she seemed to be holding in, the grey smoke hitting Plum in the face, and her tail, once straight and low, coiled around her waist like a belt.


    Does she understand? Plum asked, too afraid to put it into words. She hoped she did. Why did I have to leave papa behind? If she gets angry¡­ Plum understood her situation for the first time since leaving. Why did she have to be so curious? She should¡¯ve just demanded that Cammo tell her everything. But I didn¡¯t, and now I¡¯m here.


    Buta straightened. ¡°I get it, you don''t want to roll over and die¡­ Nobody does.¡± She giggled. ¡°Not even animals. Why¡¯d I think you¡¯d make this easy?¡±


    Buta stood on one leg as she raised the other up, shooting the tip of her snow boot into Plum¡¯s stomach with a speed the girl only thought possible through magic¡ªat least, it felt that fast. She keeled over on her knees and puked up what little she¡¯d eaten for dinner, the spot where she¡¯d been hit on fire. Tears, snot, drool, and her own pink hair mixed into the bile just inches from her face. She gasped for air, her lungs empty. She couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Buta watched her for a second, listening to her tortured gasps before walking back to the pack she¡¯d set down, her face devoid of pity or rage. Plum knew, just from looking, that the women neither hated nor loved her¡ªshe just didn¡¯t care. All she cared about was whether she came or not. Buta readied some scratchy rope before turning back around, only to stop when she noticed what was in the Plum¡¯s hand.


    From her boot Plum had hidden a short butcher''s knife, and now she was holding it. She panted hard, trying to get as much oxygen in her lungs as possible, her stomach still burning, and her eyes clouded with tears. She did not, however, sob.


    ¡°Put that down,¡± Buta said, ¡°or what I do next will make what I just did look like a love-tap.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off!¡± Plum shouted. She pointed the knife that was too big for her hand at the woman, using the free one to help push her small body up. ¡°You made me think it was all my fault¡­ and it wasn¡¯t!¡± She took in a gulp of beautiful air and wiped the snot off her face. Her stomach hurt bad, but she would live. It was hard to breathe, but she¡¯d be okay. ¡°I¡¯m the solution, not the problem¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re complicit!¡± Buta argued, her rage back. She exhaled and calmed again.


    Plum didn¡¯t like how quickly she switched emotions. Did all that happened make her crazy?


    ¡°But I suppose there''s no need to try and argue with you¡­¡±


    She approached while Plum readied her pathetic weapon. The hiddunson¡¯s Glow bathing the walls of the cave in hot pink¡ªbut a deep green overpowered it a second later. They both turned to see the source.


    Cammo had come. No one said a word as his eyes passed over the scene, taking in every minute detail before his mind called his body to action. He locked eyes with his daughter and showed no emotion, almost as if he didn¡¯t believe what he was looking at. And then he locked eyes with Buta.


    Plum could barely follow the action with her eyes when he finally did rush her, only catching bits and pieces as well as the final result:


    He had chopped at her with both hands, but Buta held up the bundles of rope, coiling them together, and managed to block the dulling blade. Cammo let go with his left hand and punched her in the throat¡ªPlum could only tell it was a punch by the way the Hiddunson grabbed at her neck with bulging eyes, in obvious pain. Cammo chopped at her again, this time embedding the blade deep in her shoulder, and pulled it out just as quickly as it went in.


    That wasn¡¯t even a second, Plum thought, a mix of wonder and fear coloring the fact.


    Blood erupted from between Buta¡¯s lips, and her Glow left her along with it. She dropped on her back. Cammo, his eyes on the woman still, pointed the end of the blade at her chest, and gripping the handle with both hands, raised it, ready to deliver the final blow¡­


    ¡°W-wait!¡± Plum said, running to his side. She dropped the knife along the way and clung to his coat. ¡°J-just wait, please!¡±


    He gave her a sideways glare, his opinion clear. The woman would die.


    Plum knew that. And she knew why he didn¡¯t trust her to understand. But Plum understood. She felt it in her stomach. She felt it in her heart. She can¡¯t live if I try to. It¡¯s me, she thought, or her. ¡°I know what you need to do,¡± she said. ¡°But wait.¡±


    Cammo stood over the dying woman and watched them both, and Plum hoped to all the gods that he¡¯d listen. He sighed and turned to her with a face she couldn¡¯t decipher, and it was one, she thought, she never might. She decided it was sad, but even that didn¡¯t feel right. Finally, Cammo relented: ¡°She¡¯s dead, Plum. Maybe not this second, but soon¡­¡± He backed off. ¡°Do what you need, my love.¡±


    Plum thanked him and sat on her ankles by Buta¡¯s right side. The hiddunson¡¯s wound was still gushing blood but she didn¡¯t shy away from it. She used both hands to grip onto the hiddunson¡¯s four-fingered one and squeezed it tenderly, stroking it with her thumbs. The girl leaned forward and spoke: ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m very sorry.¡± She let a silence hang, knowing full well Buta had no way to respond, even if she heard. Buta¡¯s half-open eyes drifted her way, but it was impossible to tell if she truly understood. Plum decided to continue. ¡°I really am¡­ I know you don''t think so, but your daughter¡¯s still alive. I know it in my heart, I swear. I feel¡ªvery, very, very deeply, I might add¡ªthat she is. In fact, I know it for a fact.¡± She grinned at the joke, even if she could barely bring herself to smile. ¡°My brother is going to keep her safe, I promise¡­ When you die¡­¡± she tried to find the words, ¡°he won¡¯t be under your curse. It will all be him. He¡¯ll keep his promise.¡±


    Plum could swear she felt the woman¡¯s hand squeeze on her own, and could do more than swear about what she saw on Buta¡¯s face. Her lips, red from blood, curled into a smile. And then her eyes went still, and her chest stopped rising.


    ¡°She¡¯s dead,¡± Cammo said. ¡°My sword got past the collar bone. Hit her lungs. Probably more.¡± He cleaned the blade with a rag and threw it away. ¡°There was nothing you could do.¡±


    Plum had no way to tell if Buta actually believed her or if she just enjoyed the thought. She closed Buta¡¯s eyes while wiping her own.


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said.


    ¡°I won''t scold you,¡± her father said. ¡°But what you just tried to do was monumentally stupid.¡±


    ¡°She told me everything,¡± she replied.


    Cammo fell silent.


    ¡°I was going to go with her at first. Then, after sleeping on it, I decided that I couldn''t just roll over and die, and now¡­¡± she explained, glancing over at the fresh corpse. ¡°If I give up on my own, then every sacrifice would be, well, pointless.¡±


    ¡°In what way?¡± Cammo asked.


    Plum thought she heard curiosity in the tone. ¡°I don''t know¡­¡± she answered honestly. ¡°If I did, I¡¯d at least have confidence in that.¡±


    ¡°Are you still going to continue?¡± Cammo asked. ¡°Or are you planning on sneaking off again?¡±


    Plum shook her head.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said, picking up her bag. ¡°We should go.¡±


    ¡°What about Vincenzo?¡± she asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Cammo said without ceremony.


    She glared at him. ¡°Do you know for sure?¡± she asked, skeptical. ¡°Don''t lie. You¡¯ve done enough of that.¡±


    ¡°It was obvious,¡± he answered. ¡°You saw him fall.¡±


    ¡°That isn''t good enough,¡± she argued. ¡°And I won''t move until he comes back.¡±


    Cammo sucked air through his teeth in mild annoyance and looked all over the cave. ¡°Can we at least move further up?¡±


    Her eyes slanted in suspicion. ¡°Why would we do that?¡±


    ¡°There are springs up ahead where we can bathe and rest,¡± he said. ¡°There''s also a corpse not twenty feet from you.¡±


    She glanced over at Buta, a little ashamed of the fact it made her uncomfortable. She turned back to her father. ¡°And we¡¯ll wait there?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°But now would be the best time to move. The blizzard¡¯s calmed. Are you ready?¡±


    She gave him a reluctant nod as she wrapped a red scarf around her neck and blew past him, continuing on in the deep snow, before she suddenly stopped.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Cammo asked.


    She frowned at him. ¡°Vincenzo¡¯s alive. You should believe it too,¡± she said. And turned back around, walking into the snowy wastes. She needed him. ¡°He¡¯ll come back.¡±

 The Winter

    1


    Vincenzo slipped back into himself with huge eyes and empty lungs, his heart pumping. Snow, fields of the stuff, surrounded him on every side, locking him in a sea of white. He dropped Heavy Metal and his pack off his back. Where am I? he asked himself, whirling around. Where the fuck am I? He stopped his frantic surveillance and fell to his knees, his hot breath visible in the cold as he shivered. It happened again. It happened when he was getting killed. One moment, the mantis¡¯s arm came down on his head for the second time, and the next¡­ I fucked up. Jesus Christ, Vincenzo, you fucked that up. What did he promise that dark pit in his mind? He promised that it¡¯d never take control. That he was the master of himself. But then what happened? That¡¯s the question, he thought. What happened? The Winter winds screamed in his ears, turning them pink like his nose and lips. I¡¯m in Winter. He knew that much, at least. Somehow that part of him managed to get him out of the depths. And I¡¯m alone.


    Where was Frey?


    He scanned the frozen fields again and saw exactly what he did the first time: nothing.


    ¡°Frey?¡± he whispered, putting one foot forward. His next call was louder. ¡°Frey?¡± He stood. ¡°Are you out there?¡±


    Snow began to fall. A light sprinkle to begin, but it was gathering strength.


    ¡°Come on! Just let me know you¡¯re out there! Please!¡± he said. ¡°I need to know!¡± Stop it. ¡°Just yell it out! Say it! Tell me you¡¯re okay!¡± You¡¯re embarrassing yourself. ¡°I won¡¯t come after you, I swear! I¡¯m not possessed! I¡¯m me!¡± And who is that? Is that any better? ¡°I promised Gult! I promised Gult I wouldn¡¯t hurt you!¡± And your word is worth something? ¡°Come on!¡± He started to get angry. ¡°Come on! Come on! Just a fucking syllable! Just one!¡± There was no answer. He grew angrier still. ¡°You fucking¡­! Cunt! Just fucking curse at me then! Call me a motherfucker, an asshole, or whatever the fuck¡¯s normal for this piece of shit planet! Just say something for fucks sake! Anything!¡± She¡¯s not out there. ¡°SPEAK!¡±


    The snow and wind shot across the plains, almost pushing Vincenzo off his already unstable feet. He cursed and turned his back on the onslaught, specks of white pushing past him on the sides of his vision. And with the storm came the wails. They cut into his ear as he screamed again.


    ¡°Frey!¡± he yelled, his voice quieter than Winter¡¯s. ¡°Please! Just say something!¡± Desperation replaced rage. ¡°I didn¡¯t hurt you!¡± But you did and you know it. You¡¯re a failure, Vincenzo. ¡°I didn¡¯t! And if I tried, you got away! You were fast, weren¡¯t you?! You would¡¯ve got away!¡± Unless you shot her down. ¡°Frey!¡± You¡¯re a failure as a son. ¡°Frey, please!¡± You¡¯re a failure as a man. The way you looked at her¡­ You¡¯re lower than garbage. You¡¯re scum. ¡°ANSWER ME!¡± Scum. ¡°PLEASE! SAY SOMETHING!¡± Filth. He fell to his knees again. ¡°Frey¡­¡± Look at your hands. Vincenzo didn¡¯t understand the command, but he followed it, curling his fingers as he brought the palm of his hands to his face. He saw nothing. The nails. Heeding the instruction, he focused on the nails. Do you see it? He saw it. What is it? He knew what it was, but admitting it¡­ You have to. ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± he said, slapping his palms on his lap. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± You owe it to her. ¡°I know¡­ but I can¡¯t.¡± You must. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± Speak the truth, if not out loud, in your mind. ¡°Not even there.¡±


    His conscience let him be silent. Vincenzo had stuck his hands in his armpits, keeping them as warm as he could¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t keep them there long. That was why, he guessed, that voice in his head let quiet reign. He, or it, knew he¡¯d end up looking. Vincenzo brought his hands up again and saw it: there was dried blood under his fingernails.


    Frey¡¯s dead.


    He vomited, painting the white a shade of brown and yellow, and felt loose in his mind. His vision became blurry, and it got hard to take in air, leaving him panting in the frigid storm. His body felt weak, and he couldn¡¯t hold it up anymore. The next second he was laying on his side. And the second after that he was on his back. Snowflakes were melting on his face and getting in his eyes, but he didn¡¯t care. He simply closed them, the air from his hyperventilation blowing in the wind''s direction.


    Why don¡¯t you just lay here a while? his mind asked. Just freeze. You¡¯ve wanted to die too long. Or rather, you wanted someone to kill you. But isn¡¯t that the coward''s way out? You want something done right, do it yourself. Do it yourself.


    He couldn¡¯t come up with a reply. It was too much. All of it.


    Just let the snow cover you like a blanket. In this weather, it shouldn¡¯t be that hard. Eventually, you might even feel comfortable.


    ¡°What about Plum? And Cammo?¡± he whispered. ¡°What are they gonna think? She¡¯s waiting for me.¡±


    You blew your chance at redemption or whatever the hell you were looking for. Just forget about her. In time, she¡¯ll forget about you. Sure, she might wonder for a bit, but she¡¯ll move on. And in time, you¡¯ll be a distant memory. And isn¡¯t that better than the alternative? Isn¡¯t that better than telling her, to her face, that you failed? That you killed Frey? And what makes you think they need you? You¡¯re not needed anywhere. Plum will be better off.


    Maybe, he thought, the voice was right. Maybe this would be the way his story ends. And maybe it¡¯d be a good ending. He couldn¡¯t hurt anybody. And as he¡¯d come to realize, that¡¯s all he ever did.


    That¡¯s right. Just go to sleep¡­


    That sounded good to him.


    Go to sleep; you won¡¯t wake up again. Won¡¯t that be nice?


    It did sound nice. The snow piling on him felt nice. The noise the wind made sounded nice¡­ He slept.


    2


    Slogine tried his communicator for the five-hundred-and-eighty-second time, letting it drone and drone in his hands, until it eventually went dead. He tried his communicator for the five-hundred-and-eighty-third time, letting it drone and drone in his hands, until it eventually went dead again. His finger, nearing the crystal screen, stopped just above it. How many more times did he need to clarify the obvious? Calmly, he snapped the device in half. Everything was nearing its end. He slithered off his bed and grabbed a rag. The moon-man started to cough, violent and lung rattling coughs that scratched his throat, and pulled the cloth away. It was red. More than usual, he thought. I have a month left¡ªgive or take, depending on whether it worsens¡ªbefore I can¡¯t fight anymore. He was the only one left.


    He grabbed his sword, a long and wavy weapon of almost two feet, and threw it out of his tent and into the sun. He grabbed a blanket, a rain-shield, his pack of food, and some clean rags, and brought it all into the sun as well. Next, he lit a small candle and exited his tent. The tent was bigger than what he¡¯d usually use, but Buta, Frey, and Gult all decided he¡¯d need a more substantial shelter than the usual lean-to. It had cost almost fifty kings, and while they were there, he had decided to get something for Frey and Gult too. He owed them that much. And another twenty kings later, they both had matching shelters for whatever weather the crater brought on¡ªit did that job well. For the weeks Slogine had been forced to sleep under the mix of leather and cloth, he had not been left wanting. It was worth the price, hefty as it was.


    But none of that mattered anymore. What was a tent without someone to sleep under it? All it was was a collection of poles and fabrics. They didn¡¯t need to exist. And he couldn¡¯t sleep in his own without thinking about the other two, and the children that were supposed to house them. So, they all needed to go. He had his food, his sword, his protection against the rain, and his source of warmth¡ªhe¡¯d be okay. So, under the hot sun of Spring, he lit his tent on fire. As the flames grew, eating up the cloth greedily, he slithered to the other two and lit them ablaze.


    On the high and cool grass, sitting in the coil of his tail, he watched them burn. He wasn¡¯t a creature who could cry. He lacked the glands to cry, but if he had them, he felt like they¡¯d be in use. He felt¡ªeven though he never had before, even after Cammo, his brother¡¯s betrayal¡ªlike crying. But alas, as a creature without the glands necessary for tears, he just watched them crumble into piles of black and red under the sun in utter silence. He couldn¡¯t help but think about the past. About everything that led him to this moment, giving his children and his love a funeral without bodies. He thought about his adventures with Cammo, their meeting with Locine, their battle against a Guerriero, and eventually, the betrayal that forced Slogine to start it all over¡­


    It had been a dark day in Mophia, and they¡¯d just lost the war. Mercenaries left and right were running, the approaching army of Unigard fast approaching. The Raid of Rainbow Road was a bloodbath. The Unigards had drag-barrels: huge things, smelted in the image of a dragon, and blew away hundreds of soldiers paid in either a sense of patriotism or gold alike. It was in the midst of that chaos that Cammo had told him to run. When he asked the emp what he meant, Cammo said, ¡°What do you think I mean? We¡¯ve lost. Now let¡¯s get the hell out here!¡± Locine was with them, too. The three of them ran across the burned mud along with their allies, trying to get back into the forest that sat in between Mophia and Unigard, when a ballista bolt hit Locine right in her lower back. The Unigard army was right behind them, rounding up and slaughtering the troops of Mophia with efficiency and brutality, and it left Cammo with three choices: stay behind and distract them as Slogine carried Locine away; leave Locine and escape with Slogine; or have Slogine hold them off.


    Cammo made his choice. The emp drove his sword into Slogine¡¯s tail, pinning him to the ground, and ran with Locine in his arms. But Slogine never blamed the man for what he did. He never harbored him any ill will. Cammo loved that woman.


    But now he¡¯s taken everyone from me, he thought. Frey, Buta, Gult¡­ All gone¡­ He laid his sword across his waist and faced the forest they¡¯d come from. He harbored ill will, then. I¡¯ll wait months. And if I had time, I¡¯d wait years. Come, Cammo. Come, Moon-man. I¡¯ll be waiting. And with one strike, he squeezed its grip, I¡¯ll destroy you.


    3


    ¡°Wake up,¡± someone said. ¡°Now.¡±


    Vincenzo sat up, pushing off a thick blanket of snow off his face and body. He was freezing, his teeth were chattering, and he couldn¡¯t feel his fingers, toes, nose, and ears. His hand was a shade of purplish-blue and he guessed his face almost matched it. He was, possibly, just an hour away from turning to ice, but all he could think about was that voice. It was a woman¡¯s voice, but not Frey¡¯s. It wasn¡¯t the rock-woman¡¯s, either¡­ And it was too old to be Plum¡¯s.


    It was night, he realized. Midnight to be exact. But the two moons floating above lit the area just as well as the sun would¡¯ve. This place, Vincenzo thought, scanning the plains, looks kind of eerie at night. The word ¡°still¡± did well to describe his environment. He felt no wind, saw no snowflakes fall, and realized, for the first time, how dead it was. Cammo didn¡¯t explain what lived there, and Vincenzo guessed it was because there was nothing to explain. All Winter was was miles and miles of featureless white snow, devoid of anything but itself. In the quiet of night, when nothing stirred, Vincenzo felt out of place; it was like he slipped into some other dimension without knowing.


    The only thing in sight that sparked any interest were the moons. They were both full and bright. One was big, grey, almost shining; the other small, red, and unnerving. What a pair they made. That¡¯s my god, Vincenzo thought, resentful. The beautiful moon was like the one on Earth¡¯s, a giant rock hanging in space. But the other was different. How much did he really know about the thing? How much did anyone know? I should¡¯ve asked Cammo more about it, he thought. Nah, that wouldn¡¯t have mattered. It didn¡¯t sound like he knew much about it either. The knowledge that the moon was alive didn¡¯t fill him with any joy. If anything, it disturbed him. The fact it had power disturbed him.


    He decided to focus on the voice again. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy,¡± he said, hugging himself. ¡°I heard someone.¡± He bent his leg, breaking through the surface of snow that flattened on it, and bent his other one as well. He pushed the pile gather on his crotch from his chest and thighs off and started to push himself up, his muscles quivering from the cold and use. It felt like he¡¯d been sleeping years, and his body seconded that opinion. He fell, got up, fell again, and got up again. And after about a minute of trying, he stood. He staggered in his steps, unable to feel his toes, but managed not to tumble back into the snow. ¡°You hear me? I¡¯m not crazy,¡± he repeated. ¡°So what if I talked to myself? That doesn¡¯t make me crazy. So what if I felt so guilty that a voice told me to lay down and die? If anything, that makes me sane. I died the day Alice did. I died in that fire. I¡¯ve been dead for two whole fucking years! So why can¡¯t I just fucking lie down already?! Huh?! You got anything to say to that?¡± He looked around the fields and saw nothing. For one terrible moment, he thought he was going crazy, that the voice that woke him was nothing but a figment of his dying brain. His head was pounding; it felt like it was dying. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Silence.¡±


    He stopped breathing. It wasn¡¯t a conscious choice on his part, but an unconscious one. He started to sweat. His hands were purple, his skin blue, but he started to sweat. Someone¡¯s behind me, he knew. Someone, about thirty feet off, is watching me. He was scared. Vincenzo was acutely aware of that fact because he never felt a fear as deep as he was feeling in that moment. Not even when the mantis rushed him in the dark. Not even when the spiders dogpiled him. Not even in that basement. And he had no idea why. Slowly¡ªhe was anxious that anything faster would result in something terrible happening¡ªhe turned his head, and saw it out of the corner of his eye:


    A woman stood atop the white, still as anything and everything, gazing at him. He turned back around and started to breathe again. She wasn¡¯t Frey, or the rock-woman, or Plum, or Locine, or Alice, or any woman he¡¯d ever seen. She didn¡¯t even seem human. He decided immediately that ¡°human¡± wasn¡¯t the right word. Plum wasn¡¯t human and neither was Frey, but they weren¡¯t animals either¡ªthey were people. And that woman standing on the snow wasn¡¯t. To him, she was a ghost.


    Like a ghost, she moved silently. He could feel her get closer, but he couldn¡¯t hear the crunch of snow. Twenty feet now, he knew. Fifteen. Ten. Oh, God, five¡­ He couldn¡¯t bring himself to turn around. Then, he felt it: She¡¯s just a foot behind me. He shoved his hands in his armpits and closed his eyes, shivering. He tried to recall what she looked like, but nothing came up. I should¡¯ve looked longer, he thought. Why didn¡¯t I look longer¡­?


    ¡°Listen,¡± she said. Her voice was quiet, but when all else was silent, quiet was loud. But her volume wasn¡¯t the only disconcerting factor her voice held¡ªit sounded alien. It sounded like she knew what the words meant but never spoke them. It sounded like she held an accent from a place no one had been. ¡°And listen well.¡± Her Italian, even though perfect, also sounded wrong. Vincenzo thought it sounded tainted. She spoke in Italian again: ¡°You will not die here. I forbid it. If death is so appealing to you, find an executioner.¡±


    He had a thousand questions and no courage to ask them.


    As if she sensed his apprehension, she said, ¡°Speak.¡±


    Vincenzo opened his eyes to the endless rolling hills of white in front of him. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°No questions,¡± she said. Her voice had no hints of¡­ anything. Neither happy, mad, sad¡ªshe seemed to feel nothing. Or at least, it sounded that way. ¡°Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± It felt good to speak his own language, but the circumstances stopped him from fully enjoying it. ¡°Y-you can¡¯t just show up and order me around you¡ª!¡±


    ¡°Silence.¡±


    He was silent.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared for good reason. You¡¯re right to be terrified,¡± the ghost stated.


    Warm and soft hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing his pale, blue throat the way someone would lightly choke a lover. There was power in her grip, though. Terrible power. He could feel it from her skin to his. He shivered, not from the cold.


    ¡°You interest me, Vincenzo Guerriero. To the point it would upset me if you died in such an anticlimactic fashion. Don¡¯t upset me,¡± she commanded. ¡°I forbid it.¡±


    It took a moment to reply, too fixated on how her fingers were about to crush his throat. ¡°Okay, okay, fine! I won¡¯t stay¡­¡± He ran the conversation again in his mind. ¡°I can get an ¡®executioner¡¯. But what¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°Tell the emp your story. Tell Cammo of your past,¡± she explained. ¡°Then ask for judgement. I will abide by his decision. This discussion is over.¡±


    ¡°W-what?¡±


    But she was gone. Like the ghost he thought she was, the sensation of her hands around his neck disappeared, leaving him quivering. Eventually, after a short period of mustering his strength, he turned around. She was really gone.


    ¡°Wha¡­¡± he said. ¡°Who? Who the hell was that?¡±


    Since there was no one around to give him an answer, he just pawed around the snow and found his gun and his pack. What he was going to do next was clear: I gotta see Cammo. The emp hated him. He¡¯d kill him once he asked him to. Vincenzo was sure of it. And he didn¡¯t want to see that woman again¡ªever.


    He looked up at his god, ready to express his distaste, but couldn¡¯t. Something about it scared him.


    He was more scared than he¡¯d ever been. He was more confused too. What did she mean? he asked himself.


    Again, there was no answer.


    4


    Cammo drank his last bottle. It was a classy spirit, brewed in Mophia and aged for half a decade. Mophia knew how to brew, Cammo knew, and he knew they made great wine too, though he could never bring himself to fully enjoy a glass. Slaves made this, he bet, eyeing the label. Whipped and broken slaves. He threw the bottle at the rising sun.


    They needed to be moving soon. He¡¯d given Plum two days of waiting, but no more. By midday, if the moon-man failed to show, he¡¯d force her along no matter how she felt.


    ¡°I love this place,¡± Plum said.


    He turned from his watch without a smile. His daughter¡¯s hair was wet, and her lavender skin turned dark from the heat. Behind her were three pools of steaming water, pure and clean and refreshing. White smoke towered from it, filling the air with warmth. It was an oasis in the cold. Even the caves underneath were always comfortable, the water running in the rock warming them like blood in a body. Cammo felt a bit of nostalgia and smiled, but didn¡¯t let his daughter in on the secret: that he and Locine fucked in the third and highest pool that she claimed to be her favorite. If he did, it wouldn¡¯t be her favorite anymore.


    He dropped the grin when he thought of the present. ¡°Aren¡¯t you clean already?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m clean,¡± she said. ¡°I used soap, but spring cleaned itself.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it does,¡± Cammo replied.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re clean then stop going in,¡± Cammo said.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get wrinkly. Too much hot water and you¡¯ll soak. It¡¯s not good for the skin.¡±


    ¡°Please? Just a little longer?¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯ve been in there every day. Go dry yourself and head underground¡­ And when¡¯s the last time you¡¯ve slept?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­ I slept yesterday, I¡¯m fine. We need to look out for him,¡± she said.


    Cammo grunted and looked away. ¡°Go get some sleep. I¡¯ll watch.¡±


    She thanked him and left, drying her hair as she hopped from bare stone to bare stone, disappearing from sight. He was glad that she was glad, but he wasn¡¯t too sure why she was. For some reason, the girl had absolute faith in the moon-man, in Vincenzo. It was why she was able to smile so quickly, and it was why she didn¡¯t disown Cammo as a father. If she did, Cammo thought, then she¡¯d have to disown him as a brother. I don¡¯t even care at this point, he decided. I¡¯m fine with that.


    But whether or not he was coming¡­ that was a different story. He had to be dead. You didn¡¯t just fall in Fall and make it out to tell the tale; Vincenzo especially. Cammo hadn¡¯t trained him in the art of Glows at all¡­ and without that crucial knowledge, he¡¯d be powerless.


    Cammo watched for him anyway. If you¡¯re not here by midday, Cammo thought, we¡¯ll leave moon-man. So hurry up. He had to squint, the sun bright on the horizon. It made the white yellow and shimmering, glittery as far as the eye could see. That was Winter, he thought. Endless blizzards and freezing cold one moment, shining gold the next. Cammo wasn¡¯t one to be caught up in the beauty of a scene, but even he couldn¡¯t ignore this one. He debated on waking Plum to share the view but decided against it. She needs her sleep. By midday, they¡¯d be gone, after all.


    Which is when he noticed a speck of black in the distance¡­ A small dot¡ªa mole, he thought it looked like¡ªin the middle of the sun¡¯s face. He held one hand over his eyes and squinted at the shape, muttering questions under his breath. Nothing lived in Winter. Cammo was sure of that. He crossed the plains years ago, yes, but he never forgot that fact. ¡°Vincenzo?¡± he whispered. The shape bobbed from side to side in a rhythmic shamble, growing more defined as it neared. Cammo almost couldn¡¯t believe it. The shape raised his left arm, the metal in his hand glinting in the sun¡­ and then he stopped. The shape¡ªwho Cammo was now absolutely sure was Vincenzo, no matter how improbable¡ªgrew no closer. Instead, the speck in the distance waved him over.


    Strange, Cammo thought. Why wouldn¡¯t he approach? Had something happened? And¡­ where was the avilop, Frey? He glanced back at the trail of flat stones leading into the cave below, debating on waking his daughter. He decided against it.


    Cammo put on heavy clothes that the steamy air made redundant and started down the hill, out of the spring¡¯s control and into the cold, where snow layered itself over dead grass and loose stones. The figure started away and down the hill he surfaced on, waving his fetish for Cammo to follow. He did. His eyes had spotted Vincenzo from miles away and it seemed that Vincenzo spotted him right back, but it meant that there was ground to cover. Picturesque, beautiful, wonderful land, yes, but land nonetheless. It took ten minutes to cross. The springs were nothing but a tower of smoke bleeding into the sky by the time he reached the hill, and he began to wonder just how far the moon-man intended to lead him on. Not far, was the answer. The moment he reached the peak, he saw Vincenzo sitting at the lowest point between the hills on, his back to him, with his gun laid out across his lap.


    ¡°You look like shit,¡± Cammo said. Vincenzo was blue, his fingers purple, his hair colored in white¡ªCammo had told the truth.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The giant turned only his head, nodded, and went back to staring at the metal and wood that made his weapon.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the girl?¡±


    Vincenzo shook his head. ¡°I couldn¡¯t save her.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Cammo said, ¡°that¡¯s a shame.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t really care,¡± he replied, his voice dead. ¡°You would¡¯ve killed her if I hadn¡¯t argued against it.¡± He sighed. ¡°Sit down. I need to talk to you.¡±


    Cammo raised an eyebrow. ¡°Talk?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯ll take a while. That¡¯s why I said you should sit. There¡¯s some shit I got to say and I¡¯m not leaving until I say it.¡±


    ¡°There are springs right behind us. You don¡¯t want to warm up there while you talk? You look half-frozen. I¡¯m sure, if you were a normal man, you¡¯d have died by now.¡±


    ¡°I look half-frozen because I am half-frozen. And I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right. It feels like you¡¯re right.¡± He brought a frostbitten hand to his face. ¡°It burns just like fire¡­ Like a thousand knives stabbing in all at once¡­ But that¡¯s not important right now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in pain, idiot,¡± Cammo said, carefully descending down the slope. ¡°Not being in pain should be important to you.¡±


    ¡°We talk here or not at all.¡±


    Cammo knew something was wrong. ¡°And if I don¡¯t sit down? If I were to just go back to the steam?¡±


    Vincenzo said, ¡°That isn¡¯t an option.¡± The moon-man rested Heavy Metal against his shoulder, a finger on the trigger. ¡°You have two options here: stay and hear me out; or we try to kill each other.¡± The moon-man stared at Cammo out of the corner of his eye, completely still. ¡°Do what you want to do.¡±


    Cammo had enough experience to know that he was serious. To know that the moment he tried to climb back up, Vincenzo would take aim. But why? Cammo thought. He had his doubts concerning the moon-man¡¯s loyalties, especially at the beginning, but he didn¡¯t think there¡¯d truly be treachery¡­ What happened down there? ¡°Fine,¡± Cammo said, breaking the tension. ¡°I¡¯ll sit.¡± He sat. ¡°Say what you need to say.¡±


    Vincenzo looked almost surprised. ¡°I thought you¡¯d try to kill me.¡±


    ¡°And I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d try to kill me,¡± he said.


    The moon-man looked away, and for a split-second, Cammo thought he saw guilt. Stranger by the second. Blood on the sand, he looks like he¡¯s seen a ghost. He¡¯d find out why he looked so ghoulish soon enough. For now, he needed to talk to him. The emp looked back at the sun and all its effects. Even there, at the very bottom, it shared its splendor. ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Vincenzo looked up, the golden light hitting his face full on, to the point he needed to squint. ¡°It is.¡±


    They sat in silence before the moon-man started.


    5


    Vincenzo let it all out. Every secret, every sin, and even every thought as he committed them: he told Cammo about his time in the basement, and how spiders crawled over his naked skin; how he met Alice, and how he betrayed her; how he died; how he ogled Frey in the abyss, and what he thought he did to her. The only thing he kept to himself was the woman. He¡¯d take her to his grave.


    The sun had risen by the time he finished but it was still low enough to make the snow glitter. He let quiet rule. He knows who I talked to, what I did, and why I did it, Vincenzo thought in the calm. He knows who I am now. The wind started to pick up, carrying the top layer of dusty snow over his head and into the slope in front of him. It glittered in the yellow light too. I feel good. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, just like when he told Frey. Cammo and Frey. They were the only two people in the world he told. Geno, every other boss, and Marco knew what happened, but he never told them. Telling was different¡ªit felt different.


    Vincenzo spoke: ¡°I could die like this. For the first time in my life, I feel kind of free¡­¡± He scratched the back of his head. ¡°And I want to die like this.¡±


    Cammo hadn¡¯t interrupted him for the entirety of the tale, and Vincenzo never looked back to see how he reacted to any of it. Even then, Vincenzo kept staring straight ahead. The only hint that Cammo was still there was when he asked, ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°I mean what I mean, Cammo,¡± he said. ¡°I thought you¡¯d appreciate straightforwardness.¡± He breathed in deep, the cold air coating his lungs. ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± It was the truth. ¡°I¡¯m so tired, Cammo. I was tired, then, and I¡¯m tired now.¡± He felt some warmth come to his eyes, wetting them. ¡°And all I¡¯m good for is no good.¡± He sniffled, taking a moment to swallow his spit. He didn¡¯t want Cammo to hear him. ¡°I¡¯ve fucked everyone over¡­ Alice, Marco, Frey¡­¡± He wiped his eyes in a casual way. ¡°And I¡¯m so tired of it!¡± He took a moment to breathe in, and out, eyes forward and back straight. The sound of wind made good cover. ¡°So, I¡¯m done. I¡¯m just done. I¡¯m done deluding myself into thinking I won¡¯t just end up failing someone again¡­¡± He swallowed again. ¡°Plum will be fine without me. And I doubt you even care. Actually, you know what? You¡¯d probably be glad to do it¡­¡±


    ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Kill me, Cammo,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I¡¯m done. Whether or not you kill me here doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll just lay here and die if you don¡¯t.¡± There was the lie. If he didn¡¯t do it, Vincenzo would make him.


    ¡°And Plum?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, she¡¯ll be fine without me,¡± he said. ¡°If anything, it¡¯d probably be better in the long run. Somewhere down the line, I¡¯d fail her¡­ Haven¡¯t you been listening to a fucking word I said?¡±


    ¡°I have.¡±


    ¡°Then you understand. I guarantee you, Cammo, that if I told anyone in Italy about what I¡¯ve done, they¡¯d call me a monster. And they¡¯re right, Cammo. I am one. I¡¯m a failure as a human being, but a success at being less than human. The best thing for everyone would be if I disappeared¡­¡±


    ¡°But you came to me.¡±


    Vincenzo scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself. Why do you think blue and purple all over? You think I did this by accident?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I tried.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you here?¡±


    He¡¯d never tell him about her. ¡°Because ¡®here¡¯ is where my legs carried me. You seem like a sure death. And I don¡¯t think I can die by just laying out here.¡±


    ¡°And what do you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care. Chop me up into bits or set me on fire? As long as it¡¯s a sure thing, I don¡¯t care,¡± Vincenzo answered.


    ¡°And why¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± he cut in. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to fucking argue! I¡¯ve made my choice, now make yours!¡± He pushed himself off the side of the hill, no feeling in his legs and toes, swaying from the lack of sensation. ¡°Do it or don¡¯t!¡±


    Cammo was silent, but Vincenzo could imagine him perfectly: he was probably frowning, his brow was tight, and there was no love in his stare. His tone had been impersonal.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    The emp stayed quiet.


    ¡°Well?!¡± he asked again, trying to clench his dead fists. He could barely grasp his gun¡¯s handle, let alone ball up his hand. ¡°I give up, Cammo. With everything.¡±


    Vincenzo could hear the sound of snow crunching behind him. ¡°Is that right?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    Cammo grunted. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it.¡±


    Vincenzo wiped his eyes and turned. ¡°And¡ª!¡± he started, but the look on Cammo¡¯s face stopped him. It wasn¡¯t anything like he thought it¡¯d be¡ªit was full of pity. Pity, and something else Vincenzo didn¡¯t understand¡­ Guilt? He wasn¡¯t sure. ¡°W-what¡¯s there not to believe?¡±


    ¡°That you are what you think you are,¡± Cammo said. He was still higher on the hill, to the point he had to look down. ¡°The worst appraiser of one self¡¯s worth is the self¡­ A philosopher from the east said that once.¡± He lowered himself down the hill until he could look Vincenzo straight on. ¡°Can you do me a favor?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Let me save you,¡± Cammo said.


    Vincenzo blinked at him.


    ¡°Well, you really don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    He felt his blood start to rise. ¡°Listen¡ª!¡±


    ¡°No, YOU listen to ME!¡± the emp exploded, grabbing Vincenzo by the front of his shirt. Dark-green light followed his attack. ¡°You listen to me!¡± He pulled Vincenzo closer. ¡°My daughter loves you! A pure, innocent love, and you¡¯re not going to throw that away because you THINK you don¡¯t deserve it!¡±


    ¡°W-wha¡ª!¡±


    Cammo slapped him hard, shutting him up. ¡°Listen to me you little shit! You don¡¯t know anything about anything! You¡¯re a kid! I¡¯m the adult here! And what I say GOES!¡± He pushed him down hard. ¡°You¡¯re confused, Vincenzo. You¡¯re unsure about the future. You¡¯re unsure about your place in it. And you¡¯re unsure about what you are now. But there is one thing you do know¡­¡±


    Vincenzo couldn¡¯t think, one hand still on the spot he¡¯d been slapped, staring in wonder and confusion.


    ¡°You know right from wrong. You have faults, I know. And you¡¯ve made mistakes¡­¡± Cammo explained, walking over. ¡°I¡¯ve made some too.¡± The emp dropped to one knee by his side. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten people killed¡­ I¡¯ve betrayed people¡­ And I¡¯ve done the wrong thing more times than I could count¡­¡± And then he gave Vincenzo his hand, offering to help him up. ¡°But I know people like us can be good, trust me. If you don¡¯t know, then assume that I do. Assume I know the answer and trust in that.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± was the only thing he could think to say. He didn¡¯t get why Cammo would even care¡­


    The emp closed his eyes in thought, before opening them with a wan grin. ¡°Because I fucking said so.¡± He shoved his hand closer. ¡°Now take my fucking hand.¡±


    Vincenzo looked at it with a dull expression. ¡°I¡¯m so confused¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Cammo said. ¡°You¡¯re trying to kill yourself, after all.¡±


    Something in his mind opened. He laughed and fell backwards as Cammo did the same, until their joy devolved into sparse giggles, and those giggles turned to silence. He looked up at the snow flying over his head before closing his eyes. How much of his life had been wanting to end it? And how would living be without that goal? There was always an end, he thought. And there was freedom there. His want for death kept him going, ironically enough. It was a shield, and it was a damn fine one at that¡­ Who could scare a man with nothing left to lose? When even his life wasn¡¯t anything of value to himself? How many times did that same attitude save him? How many times did it fuck shit up? That brought on the worst of his realizations.


    Days before his death, Marco had wanted to talk to him about something he said was important, but he blew his adoptive father off. Marco tried again to talk to his son only to be ignored every time, and not only ignored, but insulted. His final attempt, earlier in the night he died, got him a punch in the face. If Vincenzo hadn¡¯t been so focused on hating him¡­


    And Alice, his first love. He could¡¯ve stayed away initially, continued on with his life, but what did he do? He fucked her in an attempt to get close to her father, and it worked all too well. How would his life end up if he just stayed under her sheets that night? He wouldn¡¯t have stayed forever, just long enough to give her a kiss goodbye before disappearing from her life forever. She¡¯d be sad and confused, but alive. But he didn¡¯t do that in the end¡­


    Frey too. Even though he couldn¡¯t think of a way to save her, her death was still on his hands¡ªliterally¡­


    But would having something to lose really be any better? Do I even deserve that?


    ¡°Hey,¡± Cammo said, ¡°are you sleeping on me?¡±


    Vincenzo shook his head and opened his eyes, staring at the sparkling snow flitting from one peak to another. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t think about it too hard,¡± Cammo said. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough thinking. I mean, look where it¡¯s gotten you.¡±


    He laughed again. ¡°Is that it?¡± he chuckled, covering his eyes with one hand. ¡°Am I really overthinking this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say so.¡±


    He laughed harder. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I believe that¡­¡±


    ¡°I would,¡± Cammo replied. ¡°I¡¯m sure, in your mind, you¡¯re a real piece of filth. Someone with no redeeming qualities.¡± He slapped Vincenzo¡¯s thigh. ¡°But filth wouldn¡¯t have saved my daughter, or me, or even attempted the other girl. You¡¯re wrong. And you¡¯re confused.¡±


    Vincenzo craned his neck to look at him. ¡°Okay, Cammo. I¡¯m coming.¡±


    Cammo held out his hand, and Vincenzo took it. ¡°Your hand¡¯s cold,¡± Cammo complained as he pulled him to stand. The light he was emitting dissipated. ¡°Let¡¯s get you warmed up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all for that,¡± he said. He took the first step up and looked towards the summit, and stopped. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Plum was watching. The little girl stood at the top, her red scarf reaching out in the wind, like some tentacle as she leaned into the cold, careful not to let it push her off her balance.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    Her eyes, glistening from tears, shut, and she turned away, walking back to the springs without a word.


    Vincenzo turned to her father. ¡°What was up with that?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± Cammo grunted, moving up ahead of him. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the fact you betrayed her trust. Maybe it¡¯s because you intended to leave her without saying goodbye. Maybe it¡¯s because you valued her happiness less than your sadness.¡± He looked back and shrugged. ¡°Take your pick.¡±


    Vincenzo felt a pang of guilt as he continued on. ¡°Or maybe all of the above¡­¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Cammo said. ¡°I¡¯m freezing, and you¡¯re frozen.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Vincenzo muttered, following. ¡°I¡¯m coming¡­¡±


    6


    Vincenzo watched Plum disappear within a cave but didn¡¯t pursue, his dead fingers and toes screaming for warmth. The steamy air began to heat up his lungs and bring a lack of color to his skin, from blue to a white almost as pure as the snow surrounding the hill on every side. And the moment he spied the pristine waters in each pool, he threw off his dirty cumbersome clothes and eased in, the hot water almost boiling. The pool reached the mid-point of his thigh, but he wanted more than that. ¡°Oh,¡± he said as he lowered himself, hands gripping the edge of the pool, ¡°that¡¯s good. Yeah, fuck yeah¡­¡± He was in, and in just moments, his skin went from white to red. He flexed and unflexed his hand, the frostbite wearing off in seconds. He closed his eyes and let it set in. ¡°God, this place is heaven¡­¡±


    ¡°It is, isn¡¯t it?¡± Cammo said.


    The Italian opened one eye before popping both of them¡­ the emp was naked!


    ¡°What?¡± Cammo asked, settling in the water as well. There was more than enough space for both of them, each on either side. ¡°I¡¯m just here to soak a moment¡­ The chill got to my bones.¡±


    Vincenzo knew he wouldn¡¯t forget the sight for as long as he lived, the image seared into his memory like a brand. He recoiled and kept his vision up, resisting the urge to look. It¡¯s like a car crash, he thought. Or some gore video¡­ ¡°W-why¡¯s it got so many holes?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°Y-your cock, Cammo! Your cock!¡±


    The emp chuckled and laid his back against the smooth stony walls of the pool. ¡°I suppose it¡¯d look strange to you¡­¡±


    ¡°It looks rancid. It looks diseased.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Cammo said. ¡°Mine¡¯s actually pretty when compared to most. My holes are symmetrical and sized similarly.¡± He waved an arm over the hot water as if it were a showcase. ¡°I committed the ¡®act¡¯ with my wife in this very pool. It works fine.¡±


    Vincenzo started to leave.


    ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± Cammo said. ¡°That was more than a decade ago! The water¡¯s clean.¡±


    He eased back in. ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t want to know a thing about emp mating patterns, or practices, or pregnancies, or anything!¡±


    ¡°And I won¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Vincenzo replied. ¡°Let¡¯s just sit here in silence.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    They did, the rejuvenating waters heating up their weather-beaten forms. In time, he didn¡¯t even feel disgusted by his companion¡¯s strange anatomy¡­ The snow started falling only to melt the moment they hit the steam. Cammo reminded him of Plum, and that reminded him he¡¯d needed to apologize.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m done,¡± the Italian said.


    He tried to get up, but Cammo waved him down. ¡°Wait a moment,¡± he said. ¡°I have something to tell you.¡±


    Well¡­¡± Vincenzo said, ¡°tell me.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why Plum loves you?¡± the emp asked, his face and voice stern. ¡°Do you?¡±


    The Italian thought about it and the answer came quick: ¡°I saved her, obviously.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s part of it,¡± he said. ¡°But she loves you more than any knight. She loves you like a brother. Now, how¡¯d that happen?¡±


    Vincenzo grunted. ¡°It sounds like you already have an idea.¡±


    ¡°I do, and it¡¯s very simple,¡± Cammo claimed. ¡°She filled the gap in her heart that her mother used to fill with you.¡±


    It took a second for that to sink in, and when it did, he didn¡¯t believe it. He smirked at him. ¡°Oh, yeah?¡±


    But Cammo was as serious as he¡¯d ever been. With a stony face, he replied, ¡°Yes. You and her have many similarities.¡±


    He found that even more ridiculous. What did he have in common with a not-even-human mother living in a world that wasn¡¯t his own? The answer in his mind: nothing. ¡°Like what?¡± he asked, making no attempt to hide his disbelief. He chuckled in anticipation of his next joke: ¡°Am I purple? Have I been colorblind this entire time?¡±


    ¡°Do you trust my judgment, moon-man?¡± Cammo asked seriously.


    That stopped him laughing. That stare demanded a similar attitude, so Vincenzo cleared his throat, replaced his smile with a frown, and looked serious back. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then take this as a fact. You¡¯re a very motherly man. A very compassionate and patient man. At least to Plum.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± the muscled Italian man, six feet and five inches in height, replied.


    ¡°And it¡¯s that aspect that she¡¯s latched onto. Now go apologize.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he said, and got up.


    ¡°Oh! And she knows everything. About her situation, I mean. And what we¡¯ve been doing.¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡±


    ¡°Everything.¡±


    He walked out of the pool and found his clothes clean, a nearby pool red from the blood scrubbed off. All of his clothes were pristine, partway wet in water and then steamed. Steam cleaned, he thought with a grin. He put a light, slightly damp set on, the air too hot for anything thicker, and walked across the warm stones with bare feet until he made it down to the cave.


    7


    The walls and floor were smooth grey stone, and he was too large for it, the ceiling, dome-vaulted, came down at six feet, forcing him to slouch. Other than that, it was as cozy as any other room he¡¯d stepped foot in¡ªeven more so considering his sleeping arrangements during the journey, all cold ground and no umbrella. It was more like a small apartment than a cave, and in his mind, it didn¡¯t even register as the natural mouths to the underworld he¡¯d seen in TV. And enough sunlight crept in to make studying it possible. It felt like a room. In the end laid Plum. She was facing the curve of the wall and she slept on her side, completely still. She wore the same cute little nightgown he found her in the first night he arrived, her sleeping back closed and under her as a cushion. Vincenzo, thinking he ought to let her sleep, began to step back.


    ¡°I¡¯m awake,¡± Plum said. ¡°I¡¯m just staring at this wall.¡±


    Vincenzo walked back in and sat behind her with his legs crossed. ¡°And why are you doing that?¡±


    She sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve been having nightmares again¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± he said. ¡°So, you haven¡¯t been sleeping?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡± She said nothing else. Her voice, like she said, was tired and mopey, and it showed no hint of getting any happier.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡± her brother offered.


    ¡°Eh¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say anymore.


    ¡°The springs are nice, aren¡¯t they? They¡¯re refreshing,¡± he said, more to make conversation than anything else. ¡°They felt even better to me, I bet. I¡¯m used to showering every day, so its been¡­ uncomfortable walking around sweaty and dirty. You wouldn¡¯t have that problem, I don¡¯t think. You don¡¯t even seem to sweat that much.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°This place is a godsend. It really is¡­¡±


    She didn¡¯t make an attempt to reply, her attention on the wall, and he didn¡¯t think she would. He thought she¡¯d just drift off into sleep, still mad at him and the world.


    He took the hint. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you alone¡­¡±


    ¡°I was home,¡± she started. ¡°It was mid-morning, and I was picking fruits in the garden. My mama was there. We were picking them together.¡± She stopped, and just when he thought she was done, she started back up again. ¡°And I made Cammo leave that morning to get food¡ªmeat. I hadn¡¯t had any for a while, and I wanted some. Mama was sick, but I thought it¡¯d be fine. He¡¯d only be gone a couple of hours is all¡­¡± She breathed in and out slowly. ¡°That¡¯s where it either gets to be a dream or a nightmare.


    ¡°It¡¯s a dream if we pick up the food and he comes home with a jer on his back,¡± she explained. ¡°And you¡¯re there, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m there?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Mhmm, you¡¯re there,¡± she said. ¡°And then we had a feast, and ate and ate and ate¡­ It was good.¡±


    ¡°That sounds nice.¡±


    ¡°And it wasn¡¯t a nightmare. It wasn¡¯t one because you were there,¡± she claimed. ¡°But it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s bad when you¡¯re not; like yesterday, and the day before that¡­ When we were waiting¡­¡± She sniffled, a slight crack in her voice. ¡°The sun goes down¡­ and the Blood Moon comes up¡­ and it opens its eye¡­¡± Plum whined, unable to hold it back any longer. ¡°A-a-a-and I-I-I saw her g-g-get¡ª!¡±


    Vincenzo pulled her to his chest and stroked the back of her head. ¡°Shhh¡­ It¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°And y-you weren¡¯t there!¡± she cried. ¡°You left us!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to leave you,¡± he said calmly. He felt like a fool. ¡°Hey, look at me.¡±


    She blew her nose into his shirt.


    ¡°Oh, come on¡­¡± he whispered. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    She did. Her eyes were streaming, her cheeks were wet, pink hair clung to the tears, and snot hung out of her nose and crawled down her mouth and chin. He wiped her nose and mouth with his bare hand, before wiping what stuck off on his shirt.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to leave,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to leave you.¡±


    A booger hung low from her left nostril before she tried to sniffle it in, and when that didn¡¯t work, she blew her nose in another patch of clean cloth. When she was done, she looked up and said, ¡°But you were gonna.¡± She glared at him and slapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You were gonna leave me!¡± She slapped him again. ¡°And you didn¡¯t care about me at all!¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess I am pretty stupid. I always have been¡­ Plum, I¡¯m sorry. Okay? I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t do that again¡­¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Say it all! Say, ¡®I promise I won¡¯t leave you.¡¯ ¡±


    He smiled and stroked her cheek. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t leave you. Here, I¡¯ll even say it in Italian. Prometto che non ti lascer¨°.¡±


    ¡°That sounds nice,¡± she said with a little smile. ¡°I don¡¯t forgive you, though.¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡±


    ¡°Mhmm¡­¡± She sniffled. ¡°I¡¯m still mad at you. In fact, I might be mad forever.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a fact?¡± he asked, feigning hurt.


    She shut her big eyes and wiped them with the back of her hand. ¡°I feel like it is¡­ but it¡¯s just a little lie. I¡¯ll forgive you later. Not now. I¡¯m still too mad¡­ Can I use your lap as a pillow?¡±


    ¡°You can,¡± he allowed.


    She hopped off his lap and dragged her sleeping bag close, setting her small head down on his thigh¡­ ¡°And¡­ a lullaby?¡±


    ¡°A lullaby?¡± he scoffed. ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°I like your voice,¡± she said. ¡°Please? I might forgive you sooner.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know any.¡±


    ¡°Just say stuff in Italian, then. It¡¯s a pretty language¡­¡±


    He smiled and stroked her hair. ¡°Then I¡¯ll do just that.¡±


    8


    Cammo watched the sun fall and the moons replace it. He stuck a thin white cigarette in between his teeth and lit it, blowing smoke into the calm, cold air. The emp coughed twice and took another drag, savoring the flavor. It¡¯s cheap, he thought. But good. It¡¯d been too many years for it to be anything but. He quit for Locine, to end her endless complaints of the taste of his mouth, but that didn¡¯t matter anymore. He did suppose, however, that Plum and Vincenzo would complain about his breath. He inhaled deeply, letting its texture coat his lungs, and blew it out. Yes, he was feeling calmer. Nothing like a little tobacco to clear the head, he thought, the nostalgia of it filling him with joy as smoke filled his lungs. He tapped its end, knocking the ashes to the ground. The moon-man¡¯s story made him think too much about all of things, and as Cammo learned early in his life, thinking too much led to no good. His long and curved ears twitched when the sound of snow crunching behind him grew, signaling Vincenzo¡¯s¡ªjudging by the volume¡ªarrival. He didn¡¯t turn around to greet him. Instead, he kept his gaze on the endless desolation up ahead that would be their road for miles to come.


    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    The emp had moved far from the springs, to the point none of its warmth could be felt. ¡°It can get hot in there,¡± he explained. He took a drag. ¡°Too hot for me sometimes¡­ You want a cigarette?¡±


    The moon-man stood by his side, looking down at him as he always would. His hands were deep in his pockets. ¡°Where¡¯d you get those?¡±


    ¡°I looted them. They¡¯re from before¡­ I¡¯ve been saving them. And I got in a mood,¡± he said. The emp tapped his tobacco again, kicking off the ash. ¡°You want one?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t smoke,¡± Vincenzo replied. ¡°I don¡¯t even drink. I don¡¯t do drugs of any kind.¡±


    The emp chuckled, his stony exterior falling as the silliness of it hit him.


    ¡°What?¡± Vincenzo asked, confused. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that? Alcohol messes with brain development, cigarettes cause cancer, and drugs in general are just bad. Last but not least, they¡¯re addictive as hell. Cigarettes too. The nicotine in those is why people have such a hard time quitting. They¡¯re bad in your system, and it¡¯s hard to get them out. You should quit. You¡¯ll gunk up your lungs like that.¡±


    The emp smiled and looked at him out of the corner of his eye. ¡°You might be right, but I¡¯m not going to listen,¡± he said, pulling the stick away from his lips. ¡°You¡¯re probably fine anyways. You¡¯re practically immortal.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    Cammo pulled another from his pocket and handed it to him. ¡°My gift. Take it.¡±


    Vincenzo looked at the stick, then at him, then at the stick, and then took it with apprehension. He held it at an arm¡¯s length and studied it nervously, obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Cammo. I¡¯ve always made it a point to stay away from this kind of stuff¡­¡±


    ¡°Because of your father?¡± Cammo asked, tapping the cig¡¯.


    The moon-man nodded. ¡°He got clean, but it was trouble¡­¡±


    ¡°Whatever he took,¡± Cammo said, ¡°it wasn¡¯t this. It relaxes me. It decompresses me. And it¡¯s heaven after sex or any kind of big accomplishment. Smoke.¡± He pulled out of a match. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask you to if I didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be good for you.¡± He lit it and held it towards the Italian¡¯s face. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    Vincenzo looked at him and the cigarette in one final display of apprehension, before lighting his and taking a puff. He had a little coughing fit, which Cammo patted him on the back during, and straightened out, taking small drags that he didn¡¯t give the chance to get deep. Cammo took the next five minutes to show him how to smoke properly, and by the end, the moon-man was puffing like a professional.


    ¡°Good,¡± the emp said with a grin. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to smoke without the downsides. The downsides being what you said before¡­¡± He tossed the nub of his own to the snow. ¡°Did my daughter forgive you?¡±


    Vincenzo shook his head. ¡°But she will. She just needs time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good¡­ And you? Do I have to worry about you running off now?¡±


    Vincenzo went quiet, taking longer than Cammo would¡¯ve liked to think about it¡­ Finally, he gave his answer: ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡±


    Cammo could hear half the lie in his voice. The emp didn¡¯t think he needed to worry about his suicide any longer, but he did think that the moon-man would still be contemplating it for a long while. ¡°Are you really eighteen?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I took one look at you and guessed you were older¡­¡±


    ¡°I said I was young, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°And I didn¡¯t believe. For one reason or another, I guessed you were lying. You¡¯re big for your age.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded. ¡°I get that a lot¡­¡±


    To Cammo, that seemingly innocuous piece of information made everything make sense. ¡°And when do you¡­ humans finish growing?¡±


    ¡°Not for a couple years.¡±


    ¡°And brain development?¡±


    ¡°Not for a couple years,¡± Vincenzo repeated.


    Cammo giggled. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°No wonder you¡¯re half a fool¡­ Walk with me. I need to educate you on something.¡± They walked further out into the field in silence for a moment before Cammo began again. ¡°Emps are small creatures, Vincenzo. And we aren¡¯t strong. Am I handsome?¡±


    ¡°What? Are you handsome?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself,¡± Cammo ordered, turning. ¡°Am I?¡±


    The Italian watched him with an upraised brow. ¡°I¡­ guess? I¡¯m not a good judge of that kind of thing¡­ Your nose throws me off, honestly. But¡­ I guess you aren¡¯t ugly. No, actually, you¡¯re above average.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, kid, I¡¯m not the best judge, either.¡± He turned away. ¡°Emps have three things that interest the other species of this world: we¡¯re beautiful more often than not, most of our average men and women match the above average members of other species; we have a knack for fortunes; and we¡¯re a delicacy.¡±


    Vincenzo stopped. ¡°A delicacy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s illegal in most countries; the consumption of intelligent creatures. If it can speak and learn, then odds are you aren¡¯t allowed to eat it,¡± Cammo explained. ¡°But, like all laws, there are people who want to break it¡­ That¡¯s how my father and village went. Poachers came in, butchered us like livestock, and left¡­ I hid during it, and that night, the Blood Moon came. I saw Slogine, and after some¡­ tension¡­ we went and killed them all. That¡¯s just one of the threats waiting for us out on the mainland. Then we have kidnappers, cultists, knights, monsters, wars, wizards, and thirty other threats that I couldn¡¯t even imagine¡­ And Plum would be the target, as all children are¡­ But before we worry about that, before I teach you about what we¡¯re heading into, we have one more obstacle in our way: Slogine and his minions.¡± He pointed towards the steamy hill. ¡°Behind us, they approach. They won¡¯t sleep until they reach us¡­ and they will.¡±


    ¡°And can we win?¡± Vincenzo asked. ¡°I don¡¯t just mean Slogine¡­ I mean everything.¡±


    Cammo didn¡¯t know. A bit of secrecy and most of the dangers could be avoided, but the immediate threat was a different story. Slogine was stronger, even if his body was wracked with the same illness that weakened his wife. But just how much more powerful, he didn¡¯t know. He could see, though, that Vincenzo wanted to hear something more optimistic than that. ¡°I¡¯m not a liar,¡± he said. ¡°So, I won¡¯t lie. I have no idea.¡±


    ¡°No idea?¡± Vincenzo asked, just as unhappy as Cammo thought he¡¯d be. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± Cammo repeated. ¡°But I sure as hell am gonna try.¡±


    The pale moon-man looked away, thinking to himself, with a cigarette in between his lips. Cammo took the chance to appraise him, and found him different. Was the moon-man the one who changed? Or was it him? Cammo guessed both. Because in the quiet moment, under the moons and in the wastes of Winter, he could see the child¡ªfor that was what he truly was, size be damned¡ªfor who he was. He was beautiful. Cammo would never say that to his face, but he did admit it to himself. His skin was beyond fair, his jaw strong but not barbaric, his eyes, though black, were shaped like a hunter, the bones in his cheeks high, his straight nose fit perfectly on his face, and his lips were both delicate and rugged. Cammo had never seen him shave, but that was to his benefit. The hair that could¡¯ve grown would¡¯ve only his some of those excellent features. If he weren¡¯t a Guerriero, woman would fall in love with him at a glance. And for some strange reason, Cammo felt proud of him; proud and hopeful.


    He watched the kid smoke his cigarette to the butt, and tossed his own away. Then he said to him, when the kid looked his way, ¡°You can do it.¡±


    The kid, unsure of what to say, just stared at him as if he were crazy and nodded.


    Cammo smiled at him, hoping he could tell it was genuine. ¡°Let¡¯s head back.¡±

 Learning How

    Vincenzo began to learn because Cammo had finally begun to teach him. During the weeks of travel, Cammo and him started to spar nightly, with the wizard displaying the full extent of what his mastery of mana allowed. ¡°All a Glow is, is the ability to bring your mana out of the circulation of your body, letting it flow free. When it flows free, you could do more with it. That¡¯s all it simply is,¡± he explained. ¡°The thicker the Glow, the greater the mastery. Its effects are exponential as well. A wizard with a Glow four inches thick might be able to hold up something weighing five hundred pounds, but someone with five could do a thousand.¡± Cammo could sprint a mile in a minute, take the hardest punch Vincenzo had to offer without a bruise, and hit even harder. And from those hits, Vincenzo learned that he was holding back more than a little. Cammo put a sword in his hands and tested his skills, but was quickly disappointed. Vincenzo handled the weapon like he had never held one in his life, and he admitted to such. Cammo decided to focus on hand to hand, saving the sword for utility and finishing off a weak foe, and was pleasantly surprised by his ability. Vincenzo liked one show on TV more than any other, and that show was MMA. He¡¯d watch every match he could; it was really the only thing he came back to the apartment for, apart from sleep. He watched it so much that by age twelve, he¡¯d already begun to mimic them in the cramped room of his apartment. He was no good, then¡ªbad form, bad timing, a lack of respect¡ªbut Marco, sensing a positive hobby, put him into classes. He quit two years after out of a disrespect to authority and teenage angst that embarrassed him later, but he left dangerous. He was a natural fighter, learning holds, strikes, grapples, and other techniques with ease, and it was information he never forgot and never could forget. It saved his life more than once, and he guessed it was going to keep on doing that. It was practicing a high kick that Vincenzo realized he was flexible. ¡°Must be the regrowth,¡± Cammo muttered, not really interested in the strange change. Vincenzo decided to act the same, focusing solely on his ability to strike fast and hard, yet stay light, a challenge made even more difficult by the thick snow covering the ground. By the third week, he could kick his height with a brutal speed and power that impressed even Cammo. Plum slept as they trained, but Vincenzo always made time in the morning to entertain her with his newfound mastery over his body, doing splits and handstands and whatever would get a laugh. Cammo was a strict teacher, and his punishments were harsh, but Vincenzo learned tricks in recovery that eluded him for years¡ªlike the kicking himself up off the ground, rolling without losing his bearings, and other acrobatics. Initially, he was confused by the lesson, but Cammo swore its usefulness. ¡°I¡¯m a pragmatist,¡± he said. ¡°I know it seems flashy and pointless, but it saved my life more than once.¡±


    Vincenzo wanted to learn magic. He told Cammo as such, but his hopes were quickly dashed. ¡°I¡¯d need three months at the least,¡± he claimed, ¡°to even get you to bring your mana out half an inch. Three months we don¡¯t have. For now, you¡¯ll just have to work with what you have.¡± Vincenzo did. He practiced unloading and loading the barrels of his weapon for hours on end, and hitting the snowballs Cammo would throw high in the air for target practice, until he could reload and fire his gun faster than he ever could before. He turned the sword Cammo had given him with the emp¡¯s permission¡ªit wasn¡¯t hard to get due to his lack of skill with the blade¡ªinto shotgun shells, which he then loaded onto two sashes Plum had sewn for him at his request, which he wore under his coat and over his shirt in the same ¡°X¡± pattern as the mark of the Blood Moon across his chest and back.


    But physical training was only half of what he discovered. Cammo taught him about the countries of the Overworld as well as the creatures that inhabited it.


    ¡°Cappellas are the most common. They have horns, horizontal pupils, and hooves. You¡¯ve seen them before,¡± Cammo said. ¡°And the most powerful kingdom among them, and the world for the most part, is Unigard. Unigardians have dark skin, wide noses, and coarse hair sometimes. You¡¯ve seen them before, again. They¡¯re the ones we have to worry about the most, because they¡¯re organized. They know what they¡¯re doing and by the power of their god, they¡¯re sure as hell gonna do it. And ¡®it¡¯ is killing you.¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Me?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Anyone with black eyes,¡± Cammo said. ¡°You¡¯re pale, too, which doesn¡¯t help. They wiped out the pale ones in the past, and you can¡¯t really find any that look like you now, but I don¡¯t doubt they forgot it. I¡¯m sure they have it in their Bible somewhere¡­¡±


    Cammo went over everything he thought important, segmenting each lesson with a quiet skill that Vincenzo failed to notice until he realized he actually remembered what he was being told, and by the third week, Vincenzo knew much. It was a surface level knowledge, Cammo said, but it¡¯d be enough for the time being. The only topic that he delved into with any detail was the one Vincenzo had been dreading to learn about: the Guerrieros. He painted a picture of lazy domination, with his father¡ªCammo never named him, but whether he didn¡¯t know it or whether he simply refused to speak it, Vincenzo couldn¡¯t tell¡ªtaking over hundreds of years ago and keeping loose control over every country of the world, only placing a couple of restrictions on certain actions with dire consequences. Cammo explained his age simply: Vincenzo¡¯s father was a half-god. ¡°Moon-men flesh is a gift from the moon. You eat it, you turn into a half-god. Usually though, the body can¡¯t handle it and explodes in a few short moments. But there are other means of ascension¡­ An intact tear, Vincenzo, straight from the eye of the Blood Moon. He got power from one of them and now he¡¯s king. He¡¯s king of the world¡­ And, because of your relation, he¡¯ll probably look for you if your existence is exposed.¡±


    And that concluded his education.


    Every night, after Cammo finished training with him, he woke up and left whatever cave they found, and just stood in the open air in silence and in thought, smoking the cigarettes Cammo had given him as a gift after the first time they smoked. Like many things, the emp knew what he was talking about, and smoking made his mind seem clear. Vincenzo still had the urge to walk out and never come back, and sleep and never wake up, and finally be freed of the guilt he never stopped feeling. Now more than ever, Marco, Alice, and Frey dominated his mind, and with that came the hatred. I have to figure this out myself, he knew, blankly staring into the distance no matter the weather. Cammo can¡¯t tell me. Plum can¡¯t tell me¡­ I just have to know. That was his hardest lesson and he never fully learned. He hoped it¡¯d become obvious, but the answer only became more and more muddled as he went¡­ But one thing above all became clear: Plum needed him.


    Every so often on his lonely excursions to nowhere, Plum would join him out of a mixture of concern and curiosity. She would tell him stories of her mother, of her home, and of her father during his quiet time. The little girl was sad, but in a different way. She felt loss, guilt, and confusion that at first glance seemed similar to his but was unlike his depression in one important way¡ªshe didn¡¯t hate herself. But sadness was still sadness in the end, so Vincenzo never turned her away, or shut her down, or argued. He simply picked her up at the end of her rant and carried her back as she pressed her head against his shoulder and slept, hugging him hard as if she was scared he¡¯d leave her. He promised her he wouldn¡¯t even though she was sound asleep, and he felt her arms tighten. He had guessed wrong. It wasn¡¯t fear she gripped him in, but love. It was a sobering thought, and even though his guilt didn¡¯t fade, and even though he still held himself in a low regard, he decided he¡¯d live. He gave her a small and secret kiss on the forehead and laid her down, before leaning against the mouth of the cave.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to win,¡± he promised the world. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lose anymore. I¡¯m going to win.¡± He thought of everything that would try to get in his way: poachers, knights, wizards, cultists, monsters, Slogine, the Guerrieros, and eventually his father. ¡°No matter what. You hear me? I¡¯m going to live.¡±


    The wind wailed in answer, screeching at him in objection by shoving frost in his face, but it had no effect. Vincenzo Guerriero, son of Marco De Santis, brother of Plum Noowurl, defied nature with open eyes of black.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to win.¡±

 The Evil Dead

    1


    For the first time in days, the snow fell normally. There were no furious winds to carry the snow along the hills, just a calm breeze that blew over dusty white over the plains. Vincenzo was above freezing at that point, comfortable in the cold. He liked Winter over Fall and Spring, he decided. It was so empty that he actually found it comforting. It was the perfect place to think, and he did a lot of thinking, much to Cammo¡¯s irritation. It was the end of the sixth week that Plum asked something:


    ¡°Hey, papa?¡± Plum said, raising her knees high above the deep snow. It was hardest for her to move, and Vincenzo needed to carry her along constantly. She seemed to enjoy that.


    Cammo grunted, letting her know he heard.


    ¡°Will she look familiar?¡± she questioned.


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Cammo said. ¡°They probably fell into the bottom of Fall and fought and ate their way out. They won¡¯t even look like people¡­¡±


    Vincenzo shuddered at the memory. ¡°Can we not talk about the bugs, please? I¡¯m never going to look at insects the same way again.¡±


    Cammo ignored him. ¡°Evil Dead is dangerous. And if they¡¯ve been down there locked in combat, then their bodies have mutated to almost unstoppable proportions¡­ Plum, she will be an abomination. You won¡¯t even recognize her as an emp. Don''t think about it too much.¡±


    ¡°I think you could have worded it better,¡± Vincenzo said with a frown.


    ¡°It''s fine,¡± Plum claimed, patting her brother on the side of his thigh. ¡°I¡¯d rather have an ugly truth than a pretty lie, honestly.¡±


    ¡°How much longer, Cammo?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°Winter is one of the longest sections,¡± the emp answered. ¡°But we should be close to Spring. Very close.¡±


    ¡°I kind of like the cold¡­¡± Plum said. ¡°I¡¯ve lived in summer most of my life. It''s nice to have a change of pace.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Vincenzo agreed, happy she shared his view. ¡°This place is peaceful.¡±


    ¡°Did I show you what I learned the other day?¡± Plum asked, growing a little excited.


    ¡°No,¡± Vincenzo said, ¡°what?¡±


    ¡°Watch!¡± Plum said, grinning. ¡°I did this back in Fall¡­¡± She began to walk on Glass Houses like a staircase, rising higher and higher until she and her brother were the same height. ¡°Now they don¡¯t even crack! Isn¡¯t that neat?¡±


    ¡°Woah, yeah, that¡¯s pretty neat,¡± Vincenzo commented. ¡°Very neat.¡±


    Plum beamed. ¡°I know! I¡¯m pretty neat, aren''t I?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°When you say it like that, I don''t want to agree with you.¡±


    She stuck her tongue out and dropped back into the soft cushion of snow. ¡°It''s tiring, though¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d imagine so,¡± Cammo said. ¡°Now let''s continue.¡±


    Vincenzo rolled his eyes as they reached the summit of the hill they¡¯d been hiking on, annoyed at the father¡¯s tendency towards apathy. It was one of Plum¡¯s topics of anxiety. ¡°Come on, Cammo, would it kill you to act interested?¡± he asked, passing him. ¡°Just a little pat on the back would be fine¡­¡± He looked over his shoulder and froze solid. Without a word, he dropped the heavy pack on his back to the floor and turned to face them. ¡°We got company¡­¡±


    The other two turned to see three figures following along the barren ground. As if nature itself sensed danger, the wind began to pick up, turning the peaceful fall into something more aggressive¡ªa blizzard. Sometimes, Vincenzo hated Winter. The figures were hidden as quickly as they appeared behind a wall of swirling snowflakes, and he knew he wouldn¡¯t see them again until they were right in front of him. Their vision, which had stretched for miles just a second before, was reduced to only about seventy feet.


    ¡°Damn, I wasn¡¯t able to get a good look at them,¡± Vincenzo said. Heavy Metal didn¡¯t feel so heavy as he loaded two iron shells into its silver barrels, neither wasting energy or time during the rehearsed motion. ¡°But there were three, definitely. One big, one small, and one¡­ huge.¡±


    ¡°One more than I thought,¡± Cammo said, dropping his own pack. ¡°Come on. It''s better that we crush them now.¡±


    Plum dropped her own. ¡°I¡¯m coming too!¡±


    Both the men exchanged glances.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at each other like that! Glass Houses is great for defense and I¡¯m in no real danger. All I can do is help,¡± she explained. ¡°Papa, would Slogine command them to kill me?¡±


    He paused in thought, before shaking his head. ¡°Slogine wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That part doesn''t matter,¡± Vincenzo interjected. ¡°What about getting caught in the crossfire?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay behind you guys and create walls,¡± she said, stuffing her crimson scarf in her coat. ¡°That way, you guys won¡¯t have to worry about me at all. Okay? You don¡¯t need to worry.¡±


    Cammo looked in the direction of whatever monstrosity was approaching, and then back at his daughter, apparently having come to his decision: ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°What?! Really?!¡± Vincenzo asked.


    A triumphant grin spread across Plum¡¯s small face.


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Cammo said, tying his sword''s holster across his chest. ¡°She¡¯s too valuable to be killed, and we could use the backup.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t have a choice,¡± she taunted playfully. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you both. Okay?¡±


    Vincenzo looked at her with anxiety, thinking of every way things could go wrong¡­ But, in the end, he promised to trust Cammo¡¯s judgment, didn¡¯t he? ¡°Okay¡­¡± he relented. ¡°Just stay behind us¡­ And if things get hairy, just run. We can handle ourselves.¡±


    ¡°You got it!¡± she said. ¡°Like I said, you don¡¯t need to worry. If things look dangerous, I¡¯ll back off.¡±


    The three descended through the violent snow and came to the top of another hill. Cammo judged with the rate they traveled and the time they appeared, they would most likely meet within the minute. At least we have the high ground, Vincenzo thought, staring down the slope. All of a sudden, Winter didn¡¯t seem so peaceful. If things went south, there¡¯d be nowhere to run and no place to hide, and absolutely nothing in the environment of any use. He couldn¡¯t have hoped for a worse arena¡­


    ¡°Hey,¡± Cammo said, ¡°do you remember how to defeat them?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Get rid of the slug.¡±


    The wind died down and the rapidly falling snow settled into a flurry¡ªvisibility rose due to the change of weather and the unlikely trio saw them. The creatures sat at the bottom of their ambush point. Cammo¡¯s eyes widened as his usual frown was replaced with a worried grimace. Vincenzo¡¯s eyes came alive with the same defiance he showed the world the night prior, gripping Heavy Metal tight in anticipation. And Plum looked as if she was about to cry, but didn¡¯t; she only gasped and uttered a quiet, ¡°No¡­¡±


    Locine wore the burned coats from the mound of charred corpses they left behind, and Vincenzo was stunned by her beauty. She was nothing like how Cammo had predicted she¡¯d be, save for the replacement of large ruby eyes to large dead ones of black. Thinking of Plum, he let go with his left hand and squeezed her shoulder. A second later she squeezed back.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to help,¡± he whispered. ¡°We can handle this¡­¡±


    But Plum shook her head and said with a sad yet determined expression, ¡°No, I¡¯ll help. I have to.¡±


    Vincenzo reluctantly nodded and looked at the other two minions of the dead:


    Boon looked absolutely monstrous; solid black fur granted all the protective warmth he needed to combat the cold, a long blade replaced his entire left forearm while his right transformed his hand into somewhat of a cannon, and his black eyes blended right in with his face.


    The last one frightened Vincenzo the most¡ªit was the mantis. Its previously black carapace was now a dull, menacing red. The sawblades that ran through its arms were larger and sharper than before, yet it did not seem to mind the extra weight.


    ¡°Slogine¡¯s better than he was before,¡± Cammo stated. ¡°He¡¯s stronger and they¡¯re stronger¡­¡± He grit his teeth as he sighed, unsheathing his thick blade. ¡°We might lose¡­ But follow my lead anyway.¡±


    Vincenzo nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take my wife and the insect. You take the bastard. Plum, cover him,¡± Cammo ordered.


    ¡°Both of them? I barely survived against that bug. Are you sure you can take them?¡± Vincenzo asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Just take him out,¡± Cammo said, as a dark green light enveloped him. ¡°This, Vincenzo, Plum, is all that stands in our way. Show no mercy.¡±


    He slid down towards the monsters, sword drawn. Vincenzo followed with Plum behind him, before they split off in Boon¡¯s direction. And the monsters divided themselves exactly how they planned.


    2


    Boon¡¯s height and musculature were already enough to intimidate him, but the weapons on each of his giant arms were his real worry.


    ¡°Round two, trash,¡± Vincenzo muttered.


    He fired both barrels and tore a large chunk of meat off its chest, almost toppling the furry giant. These iron shells do way more damage than wood, Vincenzo thought, grinning. Plum slid down a small amount to get a better look. ¡°Don¡¯t come down too far,¡± Vincenzo ordered, loading two more shells. ¡°We¡¯re not done yet.¡± When he said that, the hole he had carved out closed with vibrant red muscle, and stepped forward, sword arm raised. He aimed at its face next. He fired a powerful blast in the center of Boon¡¯s head, blowing it apart, but still it stood, reconstructing its emotionless face. That was when Vincenzo noticed that twenty eyes replaced every feature of his bare head except the mouth, and he felt each one stare at him. Boon went from passive to active in a second, lunging forward so fast that Vincenzo barely had time to react, bringing its blade down on him like an executioner. A rippling blue wall deflected the attack while Vincenzo reloaded¡ªThanks Plum, he thought in that wild moment¡ªbefore Boon stabbed at him again, only for hot metal to blast the blade off its arm at the elbow! Another shell aimed at his ankle sent the corpse to its knees. Boon used his bulging stump for support as he aimed his fleshy cannon towards his pale attacker. A giant eye sat inside the barrel and began to glow a brilliant red¡­ ¡°LASER!¡± Vincenzo yelled, dodging to the left. Deadly light shot past him and into the snow, kicking up a thick mist of steam. The white fog blocked his sight of Plum, but he knew he had other things to worry about. Vincenzo reloaded and Boon¡¯s blade regrew, along with a leg of exposed muscle. ¡°Come on!¡± Vincenzo challenged, slamming at his own chest with a fist. ¡°Come on you rancid sack of shit! You wanna die again?!¡±


    And it charged.


    3


    Cammo jumped for Locine and chopped at her, and she was too slow to dodge, taking the full force of the blade as it sliced down her face and torso. The mantis¡¯ saw blade cut him off from dealing any more damage, making him back off. In that moment, he was finally able to see her disfigured body. Underneath the thick clothing that shielded her from the cold was rippling red, exposed muscle¡ªnot one patch of her smooth blue skin covered the vibrant fibers that controlled her every movement. Cammo smiled; this monster was not his wife. Her face grew back, just as perfect as before, smiling with the air of a seductress.


    I¡¯ll deal with you second, he decided, and jumped at the bug. Cammo slammed a stony fist down on the mantis¡¯ head, crushing its hard exoskeleton into small shards! It retaliated with a flurry of lightning-fast slashes while he was still mid-air, but Cammo was too quick, narrowly dodging each attack with the slap of a free hand before planting a downward kick in its new soft spot, crushing what might¡¯ve been the brain; he landed on his feet.


    Locine shoved each of her fingers in her mouth and bit them off one by one¡­ New longer and sharper ones replaced them, turning her once delicate paws into gory knives. With the same smile she had on when they made love, she jumped to the bug''s aid, arms outstretched as if she wanted to hug. Cammo retreated from the offensive and began to deflect her attacks with his wide sword, while the insect took this opportunity to move behind him¡ªits saw blade sliced through the winter air. Cammo noticed just quick enough and turned his neck into stone just as the creature landed the crushing blow, knocking him to the field with an explosive pain. Before he had a chance to recover, they pounced again.


    4


    The Italian was nearly decapitated five times in ten seconds, ducking under the blade and pulling his head out of range with a combination of luck and skill. Vincenzo managed to keep his distance with Heavy Metal¡ªblowing apart the corpse¡¯s knees and ankles for a momentary respite¡ªjust long enough for Plum to move in a better position. She held her hands out and summoned another wall in the beast''s face as it ran ahead, smashing through the glass-like spell without even a groan. Vincenzo threw off his thick coat to free up his joints, and loaded two iron shells from the cross of sashes on his chest.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do enough damage to find the core!¡± Vincenzo yelled. He fired at Boon¡¯s ankle, dropping it to one knee. ¡°Cover me!¡±


    He sprinted at the monster. Boon stabbed at him, only to be repelled by yet another barrier of blue, and Vincenzo used the opening to shove his barrels right in its stomach. ¡°Bang!¡± he said, squeezing Heavy Metal¡¯s twin triggers. The ensuing explosion ripped through Boon in a mess of blood and shredded organs, leaving a hole the size of a plate!


    The pure white arena was now splattered with chunks of gore and blood, and for a moment Vincenzo grinned, knowing that for once it wasn¡¯t his. He slammed his left hand in the meaty cavity and up to his ribs in search of the slug. Boon tumbled to the ground, taking Vincenzo along with him. Then the cavity closed around his arm, trapping him as Boon frantically thrashed around in distress.


    ¡°Calm down you asshole!¡± Vincenzo screamed. But the beast didn¡¯t listen and rolled over, crushing the teen under his enormous weight. Vincenzo squeezed two shiny shells between his fingers and loaded them awkwardly, yet speedily, in the gun the moment Boon rolled over again. But before he could fire, Boon sent the blade flying towards his neck! Plum countered the attack with another wall just as the young man unleashed destructive pellets on his own arm, severing it, and jumped away. The pain died as quickly as his arm regrew from the wound. ¡°I¡¯m never going to get used to that¡­'''' he mumbled to himself. He couldn¡¯t find the slug, and that was bad news.


    Plum stood about thirty feet away, trying in vain to keep both Cammo and Vincenzo in her sights. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± she asked, moving her scarf down with her pointer finger to unmuffle her speech.


    ¡°I¡¯m great!¡± he replied, loading up. ¡°Keep focused!¡±


    While Boon stared at him, his eyes began to glow red. The laser, he knew. Vincenzo lowered his stance, ready to dodge¡ªwhen something surprised him.


    Boon aimed its cannon at Plum, and fired. She let out a shriek in surprise as hot steam erupted just in front of her face where the beam had hit.


    ¡°PLUM!¡± he screamed, turning.


    Pain. For a moment all he could think of was the scorching heat that blew his left bicep apart, the initial shock stopped a scream from escaping. When he wasn¡¯t shocked, he did scream. His left arm was hanging by a thread, the exposed flesh seared and bubbling. Boon¡¯s eyes flashed again. Vincenzo grit his teeth and jumped into the snow, the red beam flying over his head, kicking up enough steam to power a freight train. Vincenzo let the freezing snow cool his black, gooey, and bleeding stump¡ªthe rest of his arm had fallen off during the jump. The initial change in temperatures hurt more than the laser itself, but it quickly began to relieve the burning sensation that plagued the area. Can¡¯t waste time, he thought feverishly. Can¡¯t waste time. Get up. Get up!  Boon aimed its cannon, the eyeballs lining its barrel beginning to glow brilliantly. That was better motivation than his thinking and he rose, still gripping Heavy Metal in his right arm. ¡°Merde,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Doppia merde!¡± He dove into the smoke behind him. A brilliant flash followed after him, only kicking up more of the thick clouds with a hiss. ¡°Tripla merde! Cazzo!¡±


    He swatted at the smoke and dropped to one knee, setting Heavy Metal on the ground. He had a moment of peace. A moment to get himself back together. He put his hand on his shoulder and focused on his black stump, letting the mana flow. It wasn¡¯t an exact sensation that he focused on, but a general will that seemed to get the job done. The black turned pink, then white, and finally started to lengthen, until his arm was good as new. He grabbed his gun, shiny from condensation, and went to find Plum.


    5


    Plum swatted away at the steam, hoping to recover sight of the two, but something grabbed her from the depths of the white fog. One hand clasped around her mouth before she could scream.


    ¡°Shh!¡± Vincenzo whispered. ¡°It''s just me.¡±


    She turned to see him. ¡°What happened?¡± she asked. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Vincenzo said. He flexed the bare skin that the laser had exposed. ¡°He just tagged my arm a bit¡­¡±


    ¡°You can''t fight like that,¡± she whispered. ¡°This¡¯ll keep you warm.¡± She removed the scarlet scarf around her neck and wrapped it around his arm. With that taken care of, she needed to know what they were going to do. ¡°What''s the plan?¡±


    He stood up and smiled at her, but Plum knew that it was false. It was a brave face, but not a real one. ¡°I¡¯m going to keep on killing it until it dies,¡± he claimed. ¡°Can you back me up?¡±


    She gave him an enthusiastic nod.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Stand back.¡±


    He strode through the steam just as it cleared, meeting an aggravated Boon on the other side. Small traces of smoke rose from the warm blood that melted the snow.


    Vincenzo took aim.


    So did Boon.


    6


    Cammo rolled away from the sharp blades that replaced his wife¡¯s hands. The monsters pursued with an abnormal speed, testing the limits of his own mana-increased reaction time. Jumping backwards up the hill as Locine followed close, he grabbed his leather grip with both hands and chopped at her just like before¡ªand she caught it. She grinned at his surprise; her razor-sharp claws wrapped around his sword. Its blade began to crack between the pressure of her hands, and the mantis took the opportunity to split the sword in half with a downward strike. Cammo cursed and watched the look of smug satisfaction on his wife¡¯s face with disdain, and decided on what to do next. Hand to hand.


    A powerful jab crushed her nose, stunning her as blood burst, and Cammo unleashed a flurry of blows too fast to block. The mantis tried to intervene with a horizontal slash aimed at his jugular, but he ducked just under the dull red saw and bashed his stone-covered shoulder into its thorax, sending it toppling backwards with a force it couldn¡¯t have seen coming. Locine retreated for a moment, healing her broken nose, jaw, and body¡­


    ¡°Just because my sword¡¯s gone doesn''t mean I can¡¯t rip you apart,¡± Cammo explained to her. ¡°Now get ready.¡± His thick leather gloves ripped, exposing rocky knuckles beneath, stained in red.


    The creatures looked on cautiously, slowly circling for another ambush. The mantis was the first to attack. Cammo parried its moves away with loud thuds before jumping to kick it in its left eye, popping it out of its socket like a ball on a string. Locine jumped for him just as fast, like a predator. He retaliated with another jab, crushing her forearm as she blocked. He went on the attack, pulling his arm back for a crushing blow, but she held up one hand in surrender. ¡°Stop! Please!¡± she cried.


    It was for only half a second that he did, seeing her familiar features curl down in a recognizable terror in her plea for mercy, and he remembered that it was one he¡¯d never want to see again. He saw that face when a ballista bolt the size of his arm penetrated her stomach, and there was death in her eyes. But in that half a second he hesitated, a flash of movement connected with his abdomen. His instincts told him one thing: I¡¯ve lost.


    She smiled again, taunting him with youthful confidence. ¡°Oh, no¡­¡± he muttered, keeling over, clutching the wounded area. A malicious giggle escaped her just as the mantis slowly approached, its carapace already healed from the blunt trauma he¡¯d inflicted. Her disgusting body bent down as she readied herself to deliver the final blow¡­


    But hot pellets of metal blew her face apart, while another destroyed one of the bug''s legs! Cammo looked to see the Italian running to his aid, worry on his face. Vincenzo shoved two more shells, using them to tear apart Locine¡¯s chest and pop the insect''s eyes with a speed that again impressed the emp. ¡°Cammo, you okay?!¡± Vincenzo asked, kneeling by his side while loading two orange cylinders. Cammo didn¡¯t recognize the shells, but he knew by the way Vincenzo loaded them that he was unsure of them as well. The teen looked down and saw the emp¡¯s stomach, sympathy and rage coloring his expression. Cammo¡¯s entrails were hanging out, mingling with the snow, coloring them a similar shade of red.


    The snow started to fall in large yet delicate clumps. Plum showed up, too, passing her brother, before covering her mouth in shock as her eyes grew wet. The mantis rushed forward with its still destroyed head, just as Boon fired another ray of intense red. Plum turned back in complete rage, deflecting the attack right into the bug, splitting it in half!


    It twitched violently just a couple of feet away. Vincenzo jumped up and shot twice into the snow. It was fire he blew out of his fetish, and it was an intense flame if Cammo ever saw one. Steam exploded out on its impact, hiding the trio from view. He kneeled beside Cammo and leaned close. ¡°Grit your teeth,¡± he advised, and Cammo nodded. Without warning Vincenzo shoved Cammo¡¯s intestines back inside! Cammo wildly grunted through tight lips as he was picked up and placed on Vincenzo¡¯s back. Plum could only look on in useless worry. The guts stayed inside as Cammo¡¯s stomach pressed against his back, the warm blood smoking as all warmth started to leave his body. ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Plum, walk on your walls. I can''t carry both of you!¡± She nodded and jumped up on blue energy and began to run with him.


    They started running down and up hills, trying to gain as much distance as possible, every bump and trip torture for the emp¡­


    7


    After another thirty seconds of nonstop sprinting, Cammo leaned in close to Vincenzo¡¯s ear, his breathing labored and dull. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a bite out of your neck¡­¡± he whispered, sounding weaker than the moon-man would have liked.


    ¡°What?¡± Vincenzo asked. Vincenzo was too busy trying to think of a plan to really listen, and for a moment he didn¡¯t believe Cammo had said the right thing.


    ¡°This wound¡­¡± Cammo grunted. ¡°It''s¡­ too deep¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll figure something out!¡± Vincenzo argued. ¡°Just be quiet! I got to think! Let me think!


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk back¡­¡±


    A ray of death scorched through Vincenzo¡¯s left knee! He screamed, falling forward to try and keep the emp on his back safe. He held onto Cammo¡¯s legs tight as his face scraped against the downwards slope of the hill, until they came to a stop.


    ¡°Are you guys okay?!¡± Plum asked, falling on the soft blanket of snow besides them.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Vincenzo said, trying in vain to push himself up. He glanced back at the sizzling flesh; it hurt like hell and the cold ground barely helped to soothe the pain.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you grow it back?¡± Plum questioned.


    He felt drained¡­ ¡°Plum,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Run! Get the hell out of here.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It''s over for us¡­¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t have enough mana to grow my leg back. And Cammo¡­¡±


    ¡°The wounds fatal,¡± Cammo explained weakly. ¡°But don¡¯t run.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡± Vincenzo said, careful not to move any more than possible.


    ¡°Vincenzo¡­¡± Cammo growled, pushing himself up. His intestines fell on the pale ones back, slathering it in slimy blood. ¡°Cover your eyes, Plum!¡±


    Cammo threw his head down and dug his teeth deep into Vincenzo¡¯s neck! Plum took his final words to heart and shut them tight. Then he pulled back slowly, tearing out a tendon as the teen gasped in silence and pain. Vincenzo let his head fall against the snow while breathing returned to normalcy, confused and shocked. He had just enough to repair his neck. Cammo stood up mechanically and returned up the hill, dragging the ropey intestines behind him¡­


    8


    Cammo had told Vincenzo about the act in passing. The half-god: where mana rules the flesh. He wondered what he would turn into as human neck meat hit his stomach. Cammo knew a lot of things, but not much about it. All he knew was the basic and most important rule: give it all. The process was one of sacrifice. To obtain the power he needed, to destroy the last obstacle in his daughter¡¯s way, he needed to lose everything. The soul¡ªthe source of mana, of spells, of himself¡ªwas the trade. And with his soul, his life. The natural body, born out of wombs and not of mud, couldn¡¯t handle the power. After mere moments of existing in a new transcendent form, his body would combust. Moments are all I need, he thought, shambling ahead through the falling storm. He let go of his intestines which hung low between his legs, and saw them: the abominations. They were rushing at him, ignoring the thick snow through bounding jumps. They¡¯d be on him in half a minute, ripping him to shreds as if he were a common man¡ªnot a wizard. I¡¯ll be more than that, he thought, I promise you. The other rule was such: he had to have resolve. One moment of indecisiveness and it¡¯d all be for naught. His soul would implode and so would his body, and they¡¯d trample over him to kill Vincenzo and kidnap Plum. He started laughing, bleeding from his mouth. It was kind of funny to him. He¡¯d talked the moon-man out of suicide only to commit the act himself just weeks after.


    He had about ten seconds left to tear his own soul apart. A soul that could never ascend to the next plane of existence some called heaven, some called hell, and some didn¡¯t believe in at all. Cammo was skeptical of all that, as he was with religion as a whole, but he did have one regret: he wished he could¡¯ve seen Locine one last time. Not the rancid corpse leaping at him with in murderous glee¡­ but the real one.


    At the very last second¡ªas the slug using Locine, the mantis, and Boon came within five feet¡ªhe accepted the deal. He felt true power.


    9


    Vincenzo panted hard before pushing up to a sitting position. ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± Vincenzo said, before turning back to the girl. Her eyes were still closed. ¡°Plum, you can open your eyes now.¡± Then a chill ran up his spine; not from the cold (even though he was severely underdressed), but from a deep feeling of unease straight from his gut¡­ Even worse, he recognized the sensation¡ªit was the same way he felt when he met the ghost. It was the power that frightened him. And it was close. ¡°Plum,¡± he muttered, trying to sit up straight to meet her anxious gaze. ¡°Plum, answer me.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes?¡± she answered. She looked just as lost as him; just as scared. ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°What now?¡± he repeated, thinking fast. The pit in his stomach only grew, and it was growing exponentially. He couldn¡¯t move. But Plum could. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Plum. Can you believe me? Can you trust me?¡±


    ¡°Can I trust you?¡± It seemed like she was debating it, but in the end she nodded. ¡°I think¡­¡±


    ¡°Then run,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°Run aw¡ª¡±


    Something landed just behind him, and he felt seconds away from death. Plum¡¯s face twisted in fear at the sight of whatever was behind him. He had begun to sweat, his heart beating so fast he was scared it¡¯d been, and his breathing got fast and hard. But he had to turn. He couldn¡¯t just freeze again, especially not with Plum there¡ªshe¡¯d already frozen. So, the moon-man grabbed Heavy Metal and turned his head, and saw it:


    Cammo? he thought, before realizing what exactly he was staring at. No, not anymore. Something resembling the father and husband stood tall but without pride. The mask that Cammo had worn into battle seemed to meld into his skin as patches of his flesh poked out from underneath, magma flowed through the cracks in his dull crimson skin, and even his height seemed greater. His clothes burned off his form, his own veins seemed to burst, and thick clouds of steam rose all around his smoldering body. The dark green light emanating from him used to be only a few inches thick, but now¡­ now it extended to almost a foot. It¡¯s exponential, Vincenzo remembered Cammo saying. And if that¡¯s right, then¡­ The thought, like reality, scared him. The Glow surged outwards like a fire, seeming palpable. But its most defining feature were the hints of black around the first layer, reaching to the outer edges of its own energy like an eldritch parasite. In his left hand, he gripped the half-burnt head of Locine; her eyes were half-open and mouth agape. In the right was Boon¡¯s; his was burned beyond recognition. Hanging from his mouth was the mantis¡¯s esophagus still connected to its bulbous head. And Cammo¡¯s eyes were wide and without the slightest hint of awareness. Cammo is dead.


    Instinct aimed the shotgun as Plum didn''t object, and Vincenzo squeezed the triggers¡ªbut nothing happened. Locine¡¯s, Boon¡¯s, and the mantis¡¯ head fell to the snow. Cammo held in his volcanic hands two pale arms, still pouring blood, that roasted at his touch, Heavy Metal stuck in their death grip. Vincenzo looked down to check his own, only to find them missing at the bicep. Cammo¡­ Cammo had been so fast in his attack that Vincenzo himself was blind to it until moments after. Did I blink? he asked himself. No way. I don¡¯t blink shooting. My eyes were wide open.


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± he muttered. His stumps were painting white red as he watched in a bewilderment, not for a second believing what had happened. ¡°This is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Plum said. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡±


    Cammo slowly raised his head to lock eyes with his daughter. Her brief bravery disappeared when their eyes met.


    Vincenzo flew over the hill and landed near the burnt and mutilated corpses of the three attackers. I¡¯ve been thrown, he knew, still amazed. The skin on his shoulders was burnt black from where he¡¯d been grabbed, heavy snowflakes piling on his broken and bloody body. Plum¡­ he remembered, turning towards the hill. The only limb whole was his right leg, and he was out of mana to repair the others. Heavy Metal was nowhere in reach¡ªif he had arms to even reach for that matter. And he was bleeding into the snow. He was powerless. ¡°Plum, don''t die,¡± he muttered in vain. His tired eyes watched their location, unmoving. ¡°Plum¡­¡±


    Blood exploded from just beyond the mound of snow into a mist. ¡°No¡­¡± he whispered. Something began to climb over the hill. He shut his eyes in acceptance and turned back to the sky, letting the cool white substance cover his body. The snow crunched under whatever emerged, finally reaching him.


    ¡°Vincenzo?¡± a small, dead voice called.


    He opened his eyes to see Plum standing over him, a fine layer of blood covering her face and body, only thinning in the back. The apathetic tone of her voice stopped him from smiling in relief. ¡°Yes?¡± he said, examining the tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. They carved rivers through the blood, thinning it as they rolled down her cheeks, along the bottom of her jaw, and the point of her chin. ¡°Yes, Plum?¡±


    She closed her eyes and lowered her head, trying in vain to hide the tortured expression on her face. She answered him in half a sob and half a whisper: ¡°I want to leave¡­¡±


    The angle of her head meant the tears were falling from her nose, and they fell right on his face, dissolving the snow as they stained his white skin red. But they were warm. And as he¡¯d come to realize, warmth meant life. Cammo was dead, but he had cleared the way to Slogine as he did. Plum was alive. Vincenzo was alive. And they could still live.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed, still bleeding on the snow. ¡°Me too, Plum. Me too.¡±

 The Arrival

    1


    Vincenzo grabbed Cammo¡¯s pack and found another coat in his own, covering himself from the wind. The snow fell violently, drowning out the pair''s silence as they reached the invisible wall connecting the segments. They looked at each other with no discernible expression, before crossing through.


    Like the other transitory spaces in between the seasons, the spot in the middle of Winter and Spring was serene, eerie, and impossible. A gentle rain that greeted them on the other side helped to melt away the snow as the overcast sky bathed everything in an emotionless gray. Giant stone walls, hundreds of stories tall, surrounded them on either side. A wide and deep river stretched infinitely between them, a small wall separating the rivers two channels: one going towards them and one away. The flat rock they stood on had small boats that seemed to sprout up out of the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m done questioning things¡­¡± Vincenzo said, grabbing one. ¡°Hop in.¡±


    She climbed over the tall walls of the boat and sat inside.


    ¡°Get changed into¡­ cleaner clothes¡­¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°I¡¯ll be in Winter, so just grab me when you''re done.¡±


    He stepped back through the barrier after she nodded, taking Cammo¡¯s pack with him. With a backwards glance confirming that she wasn''t peeking, he started to rifle through his things¡­ He pushed aside clothes, knives, and even provisions in his search. ¡°It''s gotta be here somewhere¡­¡± he mumbled. ¡°Aha!¡±


    His large hands grasped a small red leatherbound book, a blue ribbon dangling from inside the contents; dropping the rest of the items he opened to that page. A smile spread across when handwriting greeted him. ¡°I knew it, you clever bastard¡­¡± he whispered. ¡°I knew you had some kind of backup¡­¡±


    He opened it.


    If you''re reading this, then I¡¯m most likely dead. The contents of these pages are just collections of information about the outside world, so they¡¯ll be useful if you make it out. Whichever one of you found this (probably Vincenzo), make sure you go to the right page concerning my death. If I was killed normally: go to page 349. If I became something you didn''t understand and exploded: go to 350.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Vincenzo muttered. ¡°Even in death, huh?¡±


    I hope you closed her eyes when I exploded. It''s not a sight for a child¡­


    A pang of guilt ran through him when he remembered Plum¡¯s face after the fact. ¡°No, you threw me away,¡± he argued. ¡°And you ripped my arms off¡­ Couldn¡¯t do much like that.¡±


    In any case: DO NOT WEAR MY FETISH! It''s cursed, and my soul has been ripped apart. These are the sacrifices required to do what I did.


    ¡°But what did you do?¡± Vincenzo asked, leaning over the pages to stop thick snowflakes from ruining it.


    My hand is getting cramped because I¡¯ve had to write pages of text over the course of this journey, so I¡¯ll be making this quick. Moon-men of the Blood Moon carry trace amounts of its mana in their flesh; eating enough of that flesh with the wish to use that power, no matter the cost, transforms the eater into half-god, before the body explodes from the expanse of mana. If your heart isn''t true, then you just explode¡ªno power granted. Don''t try it.


    Now, onto what I stated above: my fetish is cursed. As I''ve already explained: once a fetish is paired to someone, it can¡¯t be unpaired and only its partner can use its magic. But now mine is cursed. I don''t even know exactly what that means¡­ Only ten percent of wizards have fetishes and even fewer go through the process, so information is rare. All I know is that you shouldn''t wear it. A fetish holds fragments of the soul, which is why they¡¯re unbreakable. But since I destroyed my soul, it¡¯ll be different from what it used to be. What it will do, I don¡¯t know. Now give this to Plum and flip it to page 150.


    Plum stuck her head through the barrier, making it look like she¡¯d been decapitated. ¡°I''m done,¡± she said. She saw the book. ¡°What''s that?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I was digging through his pack looking for this,¡± he said, walking through the invisible ingress. ¡°Here.¡± He dropped the notebook into her small hands, opened to the page Cammo instructed. ¡°He wanted you to read this.¡±


    ¡°I didn''t know he wrote¡­¡± she said. Plum climbed back into the wooden raft and used a rain-shield (umbrella) to protect the book. ¡°Where¡¯d he find the time?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Can you read?¡± he asked, dropping his own pack into the boat and pushing it into the stream. He climbed in quickly and felt the rushing water gently rock the wood. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I never thought to ask¡­¡±


    ¡°I can read,¡± she said, eyes still glued to the pages. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me¡­¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± Vincenzo, removing one layer of his heavy clothing. He stretched his body across the boat''s wide floor, careful not to encroach on the small area Plum needed to sleep and read. ¡°I¡¯m tired¡­ I¡¯m so tired, like you wouldn¡¯t believe¡­¡± After dragging a large and dull blanket over his exhausted body, the challenges of the battle hit him like a bullet train, making it difficult to keep his eyes open¡­ until memory forced them apart. He looked over at Plum and she looked over at him. ¡°Plum, did you happen to pick up his mask? His fetish?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ it was all that was left¡­¡± Plum answered sadly. She took out the flaccid leather from her own back and watched it with eyes close to welling up.


    ¡°Could I have it? When you read the book, it¡¯ll be obvious why,¡± he asked, holding out his hand. ¡°I¡¯ll keep good care of it. I promise.¡±


    She seemed unwilling to part with the memento for a brief moment. ¡°You promise?¡±


    He managed a tired smile. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ okay¡­¡± she said. Plum gave him the mask.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± He put it away in his own pack. ¡°Wake me up in an hour, okay? It shouldn¡¯t take us any longer¡­¡± He passed out.


    2


    Plum watched him sleep for a little bit. He looked very peaceful in a way she bet he¡¯d never realize or believe. ¡°Good night,¡± she whispered, leaning over to pull the blanket over his exposed shoulder. She set up the other rain-shield to protect his still face and patted his chest when it was secure. Okay, she thought. Time to read. She sat against the boat''s high wall and held the book close to her face.


    You¡¯re my responsibility, as I¡¯m the one who wanted you in the first place. Your mother wasn''t sure, but I wanted you. And we eventually did. I made up this plan to bring you to a rarely visited corner of the world and hide you away, and I don¡¯t regret it. I never have, not even for a moment.


    Plum, this was my duty. My duty as father and a husband. If you''re reading this, then I fulfilled it. I love you, and I¡¯m sorry that you had to read it and never hear it. I love you. Be safe.


    The entry ended there. Plum gazed at the last two sentences, confused by her own focus on them. Then it hit her; Cammo had never, not once in his life, admitted he loved her¡­ It wasn¡¯t enough to make her forgive him for that. Two paragraphs weren¡¯t near enough. For her entire life, Plum had believed it to be the other way around¡ªLocine was the one who wanted her and Cammo never cared. It was just another secret she wasn¡¯t allowed to know until after the fact, and it made her just as angry. Why hadn¡¯t he ever told her? Why didn¡¯t Locine? And if it was all his idea, why was he always so cold? Why did she grow up thinking his face was carved out of stone? Why did he always have to look at her with such emotionless eyes, criticizing her for every little thing she got wrong? Without realizing, she had started to cry again. For reasons she couldn¡¯t understand, she was crying. It took another twenty minutes for her to figure out that she loved him back. And it took another twenty on top of that to realize she¡¯d never see him again.


    Plum Noowurl, daughter of Cammo Wurl and Locine Noo, was now an orphan. And she spent the next twenty after that coming to terms with that fact.


    3


    The pair floated between the massive walls of stone for a while, but the time of day never changed, just like the overcast sky. Vincenzo awoke to see Plum still reading. He let out an involuntary yawn as he began to snack on the last of the orages, eating them without a distortion on his face as the sour flavor had lost all impact over the course of their journey. He felt rested yet hungry, so he began to satisfy that need with whatever he could find: salted meat, dried fruit, fresh fruit, and whatever else had been sitting around his bag. It was only after filling up that he noticed Plum¡ªthe sweet little thing that would constantly try to interact with him, pleading for stories and advice¡ªstill hadn¡¯t said a word.


    ¡°Hey, Plum,¡± he said, washing his hands in the river. ¡°Plum?¡±


    Plum didn''t reply, too engrossed in reading in her own little world. Her solid red eyes ran from one side of the page to another, and then down a line, until she finally turned it and continued on the next passage.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± He didn¡¯t take her ignorance personally. ¡°How long have we been floating?¡± The small island they departed from had become nothing but a dot in the far distance. They¡¯d been floating a while. And judging by her position in Cammo¡¯s notebook, she¡¯d been reading the entire time.


    Her head rose when she finally realized he¡¯d awakened. ¡°Vincenzo,¡± she said, closing the book. ¡°Do you think there''s foul play?¡±


    ¡°Foul play?¡± he said. He looked off ahead and spotted something: another grassy mass of land sat at the end of the river by at least a mile. It looked like Spring.


    ¡°In the book, he said that the disease might have been a spell. Do you think that''s true? Do you think that all of this is because of some curse?¡±


    Vincenzo looked at her seriously, the calm sound of rushing water filling the silence he created. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Plum was usually cute¡ªas Cammo explained, she was gifted with symmetry and soft features that Vincenzo could immediately tell would blossom into beauty when she grew¡ªbut in that moment, her face twisted into a quiet rage, and she looked much older. ¡°I see,¡± she muttered, gritting her teeth. ¡°And who did it?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Probably someone we¡¯ve never even heard of¡­ but I¡¯d be willing to bet they work for my father.¡± From what he heard, his father didn¡¯t seem to be above such things. He kidnaps children, he reminded himself. That¡¯s why she was in danger. What would be a disease here or there to him?


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Her rage seemed to subside as she leaned over the edge and stared into the river.


    ¡°Be careful, who knows how deep it is.¡±


    ¡°I am¡­¡± she mumbled, running her puny hand through the water. ¡°They did it because they wanted wizards, right? Like me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vincenzo said. ¡°That¡¯s how I¡¯d do it¡­ Cammo said you were going extinct, and that it was getting harder and harder for countries to meet their quota. It was probably a way to get some people off their ass.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Is it okay if I kill him?¡±


    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Y-your dad¡­ Someone has to¡­¡±


    He leaned back against the raft and stared into the murky sky. She was right. His knowledge on the subject was lacking¡ªhe didn¡¯t know where his father was, what he looked like, or what he was even like¡ªbut he felt like he had an idea. Eyes, the dark part of himself that the rock-woman brought out, came to mind. And if that was right, if he had as much power as Cammo hinted, he needed to be stopped. But not by her. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to.¡± Surprise lit her face when she heard the words escape his calm and collected face, still staring towards the clouds. He dropped his gaze.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, curious.


    ¡°I figure it''s my problem,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    He scratched his neck casually while stealing small glances at the bags gathering under her eyes. ¡°Plus, I feel like he¡¯d mess with me otherwise,¡± he explained, feeling the prick of stubble collecting on his face. He was never a hairy guy; all he could muster in the beard department after months of not shaving was a five-o-clock shadow. ¡°Even if I never went after him, he¡¯d come after me. And by proximity, you. But that¡¯s for later. That¡¯s for when I get my bearings on this planet.¡±


    ¡°Can I help?¡±


    He didn''t answer while he grabbed a small and thin knife from the back pocket of his pack. ¡°You¡¯re kind of my responsibility¡­ So, let''s not worry about that for now,¡± he replied, wetting his face with river water and gliding the blade across his cheek. ¡°First things first: we get you somewhere safe. That¡¯s my first priority, Plum. Anything else is a long way off.¡± The knife smoothed out his skin instantly, bringing him back to the moment he first appeared before Plum. The only difference was the half inch of hair growing on his head. ¡°Safety first, Plum, safety first. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s somewhere we can hide.¡±


    ¡°If we make it, that is,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°What was that?¡± he asked.


    He looked to see not a look of rebellion, but one of sad impotence. She stared at the bottom of the boat. ¡°Nothing¡­¡±


    ¡°Bullshit, now look at me.¡± he ordered, kneeling forward.


    She shook her head. ¡°I don''t want to,¡± she sniffled.


    ¡°Please,¡± Vincenzo said.


    ¡°No, I didn''t want to cry in the first place!¡± she said. She tried to hide her face.


    ¡°Why don''t you want to cry?¡± he asked patiently.


    ¡°Crying isn''t gonna solve anything¡­¡± she whimpered. ¡°Its never solved anything. It¡¯s the most useless thing in the world! And all I can do is cry! What does that make me?¡±


    Every event over the course of the past months hit him like a freight train, and he felt anger. ¡°Who the hell said you needed to solve anything?!¡± Vincenzo yelled. Plum shot up, surprised by his change in tone, when he seized the moment to pull her close to his chest, hugging her tight. Vincenzo knew what it was like to hate oneself, and knew how hard it was to get out of that frame of mind. He still hated himself. He wasn¡¯t going to let Plum start. ¡°You''re a kid!¡± he stated. ¡°It''s an adult¡¯s job to solve problems! Okay?! The only thing you should be worrying about are your goddamned chores! It¡¯s my problem. You¡¯re too young to solve it, just like I used to be. Cammo was an adult. Your mother was an adult. And kids can¡¯t do shit. It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    She hugged him back with a fury, like she was attempting to crush him with all the power her small emp body could provide. ¡°What?! So you could die too?!¡± she argued. ¡°Mama¡¯s dead, papa¡¯s dead, and even more people are dead because of me! I hate it! I don¡¯t want anyone else to die¡­¡±


    Her rage washed away with the healthy stream of tears flowing down her cheeks, and she buried her small head in his chest and began to weep even more violently. Vincenzo sat against the wall again and held her tight, bearing the brunt of her sadness head on. It was a long time coming. Ever since the first night they spent together she¡¯d been on the verge of breaking down. And what better place to break down than in his arms, where he swore nothing would hurt her. That was when everything came out like a tidal wave. Every bit of information that she left out of her late-night confessions were revealed, and it scared him. It scared him because of how twisted her thinking was threatening to become. Like all children (and himself) she wanted to be older, but the reasons for her wish were due to a deep feeling of trauma that came from the uselessness that all children were predisposed to. She saw her mother killed in what Vincenzo imagined was the worst possible way, and she was powerless to stop it. Her father sacrificed himself when they couldn¡¯t win one measly battle, which she was also useless (in her biased eyes) in. And the same illness that ravaged her mother was ravaging who knew how many others, and the only way to stop it would be her sacrifice¡ªwhich she¡¯d already refused to do out of feelings she didn¡¯t fully understand. He hated himself for the things he chose to do; she hated herself for the things she was unable to. So, he tried his best to nip those emotions in the bud, arguing against her notions of incapability until she couldn¡¯t think of another argument to make as she just resigned herself to bawling into his shirt. It was then that he realized that it wasn¡¯t a lecture she needed. ¡°Okay,¡± he quietly promised. ¡°No one else is going to die¡­ For the rest of this journey, no more blood is on your hands. ¡®Cause none will spill. Capito?¡±


    She nodded, wiping her nose on a clean patch of cloth she¡¯d managed to leave untouched. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°Understand?¡±


    She blew her nose on him. ¡°Okay¡­¡± And seemed a lot better.


    4


    They reached the green island after another ten minutes, where Vincenzo jumped off and dragged their circular raft ashore. Plum had calmed down, her face clean of tears, snot, and a little drool, and Vincenzo¡¯s shirt dirty. The slight shimmer that the invisible wall between segments shimmered just feet away. He put the straps of his pack over his shoulders and waited for Plum to be ready.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± he said. ¡°The final stretch. I think Cammo said it¡¯d just be two weeks'' travel till we make it out of this crater¡­ Are you ready? We can wait here a little bit if you need.¡±


    Plum shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m ready. I feel a lot better now.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Plum didn¡¯t seem healthy. The bags under her eyes were already large, but they seemed even puffier. Her lavender skin was lighter, making her seem a sickly pale. Her breathing was labored and shallow, and despite the mild weather, she was sweating like a pig in heat. ¡°Wait a minute¡­¡± He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re burning up!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she argued.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. In fact, I¡¯d say you caught a fever.¡±


    She pressed a hand against her forehead to check, wobbling as she stood. ¡°Oh¡­ Oh! Vincenzo!¡± she said, grabbing her stomach. ¡°My stomach! I have to go to the bathroom!¡±


    Vincenzo could handle boogers but not shit. ¡°OH! Oh shit, okay! Come on, you can go in Spring!¡±


    They pushed past the wall and into the unknown without hesitation. The Italian barely had time to take in the splendor of nature before him, completely focused on getting his sister to crap far, far away from him. The trees were taller than Summer¡¯s, about twenty feet on average, with broad green leaves that sucked up the warm sun, hard brown bark, and flowers budding along the branches. The forest was full of flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors, growing from bushes, vines, and from the lush grass that reached the middle of his shins.


    ¡°Here!¡± he said, finding a particularly thick trunk. ¡°Go here! I¡¯ll be on the other side if you need anything.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± she groaned. ¡°Oooh¡­ I don¡¯t feel good¡­¡±


    ¡°A good shit and you¡¯ll be alright,¡± he said with a pat on the back. ¡°It¡¯ll clear you up¡­¡± He dug into Cammo¡¯s pack and passed her some of the dried leaves laid on top of one another they¡¯d been using for such occasions. ¡°Call me if you need anything.¡±


    She took the wipes and went. ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    With that taken care of Vincenzo moved back into the clearing they came into Spring from, paying a little more attention to his environment. Multi-colored birds and small animals flitted from tree to tree, chittering and chirping as they traveled along branches in an almost song-like way, making music with the rustling of leaves. Spring was alive. It made enough sense to him. Summer had a couple of animals; Fall did too, even if they were at the bottom; Winter was empty; and Spring was full.


    He picked out a cigarette and lit it, taking in the smoke, and letting it out before it began to burn. Cammo had gotten him addicted, but Vincenzo decided that it wasn¡¯t so bad. A little buzz of energy cleared his mind, and he could think without thinking too much.


    His thoughts used to be: Is she sick? Are we going to have to stop? Do we even have enough food for the stop, if we have to? How much food do we have? And what if it¡¯s something she can¡¯t come back from? What if it¡¯s worse than a fever? What if it¡¯s something that time and rest won¡¯t cure? Oh, God. What if it¡¯s the same thing her mother had?


    They became: She has a fever and she¡¯ll knock it out soon. Either that or it is just a shit.


    His only worry, then, was how long it¡¯d take, but those worries had nothing to do with their food supply. When I overthink, I miss the simplest shit, don¡¯t I? Spring was full of food. They were climbing on trees, hopping from branch to branch, and being real fucking noisy about it, too. He¡¯d feed them both fine. But there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind, and he was eighty percent sure that it wasn¡¯t just a symptom of thinking more than necessary. Cammo had said they needed to leave because there wasn¡¯t any food, that the soil rejected every kind of outside plant, and that the jers running around would have been hunted to extinction in just a couple months if they¡¯d stayed. Fall had nothing but bugs, and they were too dangerous. And Winter was a wasteland. So, what was wrong with Spring? What¡¯s the catch? he asked himself. There was a catch. Cammo wasn¡¯t stupid. If Spring was the place to be, he would¡¯ve been there. Is Plum done yet?


    He smoked to a nub and stuck it in his mouth, letting his drool extinguish whatever embers remained, and spit it out on the grass. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb Plum while she was doing her business¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to, also¡ªbut a strange sense of foreboding settled in his stomach.


    ¡°Plum? You done yet?¡± he asked, coming closer. There was no reply. ¡°Plum? Plum, I don¡¯t want to look behind and see you shitting. Are you there or not?¡± Still no reply. With a bit of alarm, he said, ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± He grabbed the bark and leaned to see, still not wanting to the victim of some stupid joke, and saw the pink sundress lying on the ground. ¡°Oh no.¡± Vincenzo held it by the skirt quickly, and then dropped it just as fast¡ªPlum had used it to cover her ¡°business¡±. He dry-heaved and looked at his hand, making sure it wasn¡¯t stained by any of it, and found it wasn¡¯t. ¡°Plum? Where are you?¡± Vincenzo went from passive concern to real worry without a pause, and his anxiety only worsened when he spied a red strip hanging from a fallen branch. He ran over and pulled it off the wood; it was Plum¡¯s ribbon. She wore it everywhere. She wouldn¡¯t just leave this lying here, he knew, and pressed on when his eyes caught something else. He didn¡¯t idle, getting to the next piece of clothing the second after he saw it. It was a sock, little and pink and whole. She wasn¡¯t ripping it off, but taking it off. She¡¯s stripping? he thought, putting it in the pocket opposite of her ribbon. Was she burning up that much? Whatever she was doing, she was leaving a trail. He spotted another one of her socks heading in the same direction and grabbed it. What was next? She didn¡¯t have her dress, her ribbon, or her socks. What else did she have to get rid of? He dreaded the answer and dreaded the reality. Another twenty feet off, he saw a little bit of underpants. He stuffed that in his pocket with the socks. ¡°Plum? Come on, I¡¯ve already touched some nasty stuff,¡± Vincenzo said, walking in the path she laid. ¡°Plum? You¡¯re not dead, I know that much. An animal would¡¯ve just eaten you straight out. Come on, Plum, this isn¡¯t making me laugh. Look, hear¡­¡± He silently continued. ¡°Did you hear that? Did you notice my lack of laughter?¡± His jokes were bad cover. In his voice was a worry growing into panic, and it was starting to feel like panic was the right emotion. ¡°Plum?!¡± He thought of Frey again. He thought of silence. ¡°Hey?! I said that this wasn¡¯t funny!¡±


    He tripped on something solid, only failing to fall flat on his face with two outstretched arms that caught onto low hanging branches nearby. ¡°Piece of shit¡­¡± he muttered, looking down and pushing himself back. ¡°What even¡­¡± It was too dark a purple to be a rock, too hard to be some kind of weird mushroom, and too unnatural to be alive. He knew he should just continue on in his search, but something told him to investigate, that whatever it was by his feet was some kind of clue. He squatted down and felt the top of it; it was rough, hard¡­ and warm.


    Why was it warm? There¡¯d been a bed of long grass that concealed its sides, and they were gone after some frantic pulling, and when they were gone, he got his answers. Curled up into a ball, her chin on her knees, her back bent, her long ears curving along it, her arms tight along her legs, and her hands on the sides of her face as if she was blocking the sun to examine something, was Plum.