Aldreia and Melitta had spent the night together.

Then, the rainbow-haired metahuman had needed to get some business done with her family. She kissed Aldreia goodbye, promised to meet up with her for dinner, and skipped off. A few of her nail servants followed after her as she headed to her ship. Aldreia watched her get in, watched the carrier lift off the ground and head towards the Traveling Point.

The cleric used her shower. Then she, too, stepped out. She was, at first, unsure of where to go first, then she supposed that she should meet up with Becenti, explain where she had been. The thought of meeting with the old man made her tense. But she hadn't gone overboard in her drinking. She had found a new...

'Friend.' Yes. That was the word she would use. Despite the fact that Melitta Dorucanthos was becoming something much more to her than that.

(She had thought the same thoughts for each and every one of her lovers.)

She set off towards Mt. Redress. A few other New Ludayans were on the road as well, Workers all, bringing supplies into the home base, or traveling to work within the mountain itself. A few of them let her accompany them, a metahuman with yo-yos for arms helping her onto their wagon. The New Ludayans talked with one another, enjoyed the fresh breeze in the air, one of them was reading a book to herself, fifteen eyes scanning page after page. A child, maybe three or four, was squirming in his uncle's arms, his mother across from him. She was peeling stuck shed from her arm, forked tongue flickering every so often to taste the air.

“Now, now, abisu,” the uncle said, “Your mama's almost done. See? Just a bit more.”

The kid let out a squeal, watching his mother scrape away the last dead skin from her fingers. She took her child back from her brother, rocking him on a knee.

Mt. Redress was, as per the usual, filled with metahumans. Workers expanded the interior of the mountain, or brought in goods for storage. Members of the Ruler class walked, paperwork in hand, to organize the community. Aldreia passed by a crowded room, where a crystalline metahuman was pointing to a map of the plane, marking points of interest, places to build new towns, where to plant crops for the next season. A few Warriors were patrolling the mountain, more an exercise in security than anything else, for there was little reason for them as of right now.

At last, Aldreia found Becenti in the guest rooms that their hosts had provided to them. The older man was sitting at the bed, his hands clasped together. He looked up at Aldreia.

And his eyes narrowed.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“I met a friend,” Aldreia said, “I...”

“Cobalt Joe and the others are gone,” Becenti said, “Him. Nasir. Professor Morandus.”

Aldreia pulled a face.

“They probably just got lost somewhere. Or they met friends too,” she said.

Becenti shook his head.

“No, Aldreia,” he said, “They were last seen with a few... malcontents, in New Ludayan society. They may have put themselves in danger.”

“There's little of that here,” Aldreia said.

“So we've been told, over and over,” Becenti said, “But there is no such thing as 'no danger.'”

He rose.

“I understand why you did not want to look after Professor Morandus,” he said, “But he was still your responsibility.”

Aldreia rolled her eyes.

“Oh, bother,” she said.

And realized she had said the wrong thing, as Becenti's eyes bulged, for a moment, anger overtaking him for just the slightest moments. He controlled himself, but his voice was measured and controlled as he spoke.

“Three of your guildmates are gone,” Becenti said, “And that's... all you can say.”

Aldreia was giving him a mutinous look. But she didn't dare say anything, not yet.

“We had an agreement, Aldreia,” Becenti said, “You were to leave the guildhall for another job. That you would listen to what I said. And I gave you specific instructions to look after Evancar. To make sure he didn't get into trouble.”

He gestured.

“I do believe he's in trouble, Aldreia.”

“He's got Joe with him,” Aldreia countered, “He's fine-”

“Joe has other priorities!” Becenti roared. Aldreia flinched. It was rare for him to shout. To scream. To lose his temper so. And the old metahuman knew this. Heat was rippling around him, as though he were nothing but a desert mirage. He took a moment to compose himself, staring at the wall as though his eyes alone could bore holes into it. His hands were shaking.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “I shouldn't... I shouldn't shout.”

Aldriea shook her head, disgusted.

“It's all about Joe to you, isn't it?” she said, “Your little protege. He was your first choice for coming here, right?”

“I want him to see us at our best,” Becenti said, “Nothing more.”

“Bullshit,” Aldreia said, “All due respect, sir, but I can see the way you look at him. Like he's everything you want to be.”

Becenti opened his mouth to retort, then closed it.

Because she was right.

Despite his openness, despite accepting Joe's decision to not stay here on New Ludaya.

She was right.

“You still were supposed to look after Evancar,” Becenti said.

“The Professor is a grown man, Becenti,” Aldreia said, “He's not a child. He can look after himself.”

“It's not him I'm worried about,” Becenti said, “It's the people around him.”

Aldreia scoffed.

“You think a few mean words will get to people?” she said.

“Yes,” Becenti said, his voice hard, “Words can mean the world. You know this. Stop pretending like you don't.”

Now it was Aldreia's turn to pause. To digest her guildmate's words. She had no answer.

“I need you to listen to what I say, from now on,” Becenti said, “I did not ask you to look after Evancar just because he tends to run his mouth. I did it because I know that he's a conspiracy theorist, at his heart. If he believes something, he tends to find opportunities to find it.”

“And you wanted me to stop him,” Aldreia said.

“Yes,” Becenti said, “Joe will be able to protect him, of course. Nasir will make sure he doesn't get lost. But he shouldn't have left at all. And now they're gone. And...”

He looked around. Walked past Aldreia, looked down the halls to make sure they weren't being listened in on.

“And we're getting very little support in finding them,” he whispered, “Luminary only has a few agents searching for them.”

“Where's Iandi?” Aldreia asked.

“He's with some of the people he's made friends with,” Becenti said, “Asking around. Luminary told us not to, but...”

He shrugged.

“They're missing. And I'm worried.”

Now Aldreia could see the core of his anger. There was fear layered in Becenti's voice. Barely controlled panic. Three guildmates were missing on an unknown plane, and their hosts were hardly of use in helping him.

Their hosts, who were supposed to be Becenti’s family, siblings by the metagene.

“I'm... sorry,” she said, “They... They did meet with me. And they told me that they were going on an investigation. They asked me to come.”

“And you didn't?” Becenti asked.

“I was... with a friend,” Aldreia said, “I met someone here.”

Becenti studied her for a few moments.

“You decided to follow your heart,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Even when they needed your help,” he said.

“And what would you have done?” Aldreia asked, “If I had disappeared with them, too?”

“I would have expected you to tell them not to go at all,” Becenti said.

“And would that have stopped them?” Aldreia asked, “Evancar, maybe. But Joe? Remember how he went AWOL, and he went all the way out to Melmaen?”

Becenti shook his head.

“No,” he said, “It wouldn't have.”

He looked at her.

“But all the same. I ask that you listen to me from now on. We are in a precarious situation, and I don't know how it will play out. I need you here, Aldreia.”

The cleric nodded. Swallowed.

“...Alright,” she said.

***

Just past the overgrown buildings were the caves that Lunus Oculus had described. The scarlet-eyed metahuman took point, leading them down into the earth, the cave's entrance being blocked by a shawl of vines. The echoing roar of rushing water beckoned them downwards. Cobalt Joe's azure claw lit the way, painting the stone walls blue. The ground was even, and they had no trouble descending down. No sudden gravel falls. No shifts in the earth. It was a ramp downwards.

Evancar looked down at it. Noted how easy their journey was. How the path seemed so manmade.

The tunnel opened up into a large cavern, and the source of the rushing water. A waterfall trembled down into a large pool, a never ending stream that churned the pool white. A few more houses were set up here, similar in make to the ones outside. The same sort of brick walls. The roofs were missing, but they were not dominated by trees. Rather, they were simply empty.

Evancar poked his head into one of them, looking around. Images were painstakingly etched into the walls, hunters and animals, a full moon with a bear at its center. More arrowheads littered the ground.

“It was a weapons cache,” Evancar said, “Whoever these people were, this cave was a fallback point.”

He picked up an arrowhead, flipping it over with his fingers.

“Flint,” he said, “And lots of it here.”

Cobalt Joe walked over to the pool while Evancar picked over the houses. He dipped a hand into the water. It was frigid. Nasir joined him, looking around. It was dark in here, the only source of light coming from when Joe used his metahuman power, or when Evancar took out his flashlight. And yet the tracker's careful eyes adjusted, and he seemed to be able to see the cavern just fine.

“Anything in the other buildings?” Evancar asked.

“Most of the same,” Lunus Oculus said.

“Show me.”

The din of the waterfall was the only sound as Evancar looked over a few of the other buildings. A few of them were squat. A few more were longhouses, three in total, made of stone, with walls that divided small, compartmentalized rooms.

“No fire pits,” Evancar said, “Makes sense. Can't have a fire in a cave. No, the rooms are small enough to house a lot of people, keep them huddled together for warmth...”

He scratched his chin.

He explored a few of the cramped rooms. Saw more carvings. Those of the bear and the moon. Of a man with a spear for a hand, or perhaps he was merely holding the spear against his arm. One of the rooms was larger than the others, was made in such a way that people could sit together in a large circle and look down at the room's center. Perhaps a map would have been placed there. The back wall of the room had the man with the spear for an arm protecting his people. He was positioned between them and an army of animals, serpents and bears and wolves. His people were huddled behind him.

“A war room,” Evancar said.

“That's what we thought, too,” Lunus Oculus said.

“Most of these longhouses were used by refugees, I think,” Evancar said, “A place for people to flee in times of conflict.”

“And to stockpile weapons,” she said.

“Yes,” Evancar said, “The cave is on a bit of a lookout, meaning you can see the enemy approaching. They'd have to come uphill, giving you a natural advantage.”

He left the war room.

“Tell me,” he said, “Is there any sign of combat in here?”

“I... I don't know,” Lunus Oculus said, “None that I've been able to see. But it's rather dark.”

Indeed, with Joe outside, the only source of light was coming from the soft glow of Lunus's eyes, the cutting beam of Evancar's flashlight. His brow furrowed.

“Any sign of old combat would be difficult to spot,” he said, “Any bodies would have decomposed long ago.”

“...Even if the bow was young?” Lunus Oculus asked.

There was an edge to her voice. She was starting to pick up on Evancar's line of questioning. He looked up at her.

“A body naturally left behind, in a cave like this?” he said, “Give it a few years, tops. If an animal got in here, there'd be nothing left in a matter of weeks.”

“But that's only if a body was left behind,” Lunus Oculus said.

“True,” Evancar said, “If I were...”

He trailed off. His mind was racing to a conclusion, one he was not sure that the New Ludayans would like.

“I don't see any bodies here,” he said, “Let's move on.”

They went into a few other rooms. Noted that there were wool bed mats, though they had become a bit threadbare due to abandonment. As before, none of the rooms had firepits. Whatever these lodgings were, they were ultimately temporary, only to be used in times of conflict.

And, in one of the rooms, they found a cornhusk doll.

“Oh, no,” Evancar said, “Hey, little guy, what are you doing here?”

It was tucked away in the corner of one of the rooms, beside a picked-away bed mat. Twisted out of cornhusks, with pinched up arms and a dress, a faceless head with pinned down hair tied by yarn.

Undeniably a child's toy.

Evancar picked it up.

“This should have rotted by now,” he said, “Or, at the very least, we should be seeing spots here and there.”

Lunus Oculus was looking at it with watering eyes. She swallowed.

“How...” she said, “How old is it?”

Her voice was trembling.

Evancar looked sadly at it.

“There's not a chance,” he said, “That there were metahumans here before, right?”

“N-No,” Lunus Oculus said, “Not to build something like this. I don't recognize any of the art on the walls. I don't recognize any of this.”

Evancar sighed.

“How old is it, Professor Morandus?” Lunus Oculus asked, “How long has it been here?”

The archaeologist ran his fingers through his curly hair. Adjusted his glasses. When he looked at Lunus Oculus, his face was downcast, his eyes sympathetic.

“A year. Maybe two.”

***

“There is more to the cave, I think,” Nasir said.

Joseph looked up at him.

“You think?”

Nasir nodded, looking around. Lunus Oculus was stepping out of one of the longhouses, her face aghast. Thunderhead walked over to her, had to hold her up as the metahuman almost collapsed. Joseph jogged over to her, a look of concern on his face.

“What's up?” he said.

Lunus Oculus was staring at nothing. Her burning red eyes were empty. The windows were open, but no one was home. Evancar stepped out of the longhouse behind her. In his hand was a doll made out of corn husk. Joseph looked at it. Looked at Evancar.

“There were people here,” Evancar said, simply.

“We knew that,” Joseph said, “They're ruins.”

“No,” Lunus Oculus mouthed.

“Lune, what's up?” Thunderhead said, “Come on, speak to me.”

She took out her drinking flask, downed some water. Swallowed almost painfully.

“No,” she said again, “I can't...”

She looked at Evancar.

“Talk to me, archaeologist,” she said, “What does this mean?”

Evancar scratched the back of his head. He looked down at the doll in his hand. Joseph's brow knitted.

“Yeah, Evancar,” he said, “What does it mean?”

The archaeologist sighed.

“I don't believe...” he chose his words carefully, “It's my hypothesis that these ruins are not that old. They were abandoned very recently. Within the last few years.”

He swallowed.

“No,” he said, “Only within the last year or so.”

It took Joseph a moment.

Then his eyes widened. A sudden coldness ran up his spine. A heavy weight set into his chest.

“Wait,” he said, “These are metahuman, right?”

“They don't have any traditional Epochian symbology,” Evancar said, “No Dragons. None of the old folk heroes. Not even a depiction of High King Coral, and every kingdom had images of him somewhere.”

Nasir was walking along the water's edge. He brought a finger to his mouth, brought it up to the air.

“So, not metahuman,” Joseph said, “Someone else.”

“Someone else who lived here about a year or two ago,” Evancar said, “Tell me, when was New Ludaya founded?”

“A year and a half ago,” Thunderhead said, “That's how the story goes.”

His voice was hard. He looked at Lunus Oculus in his arms. Then away, at the longhouse.

“The Founders discovered this plane, and made for us a home.”

“I'm not going to assume anything,” Evancar said, “But... the timeline, it doesn't look good.”

“She wouldn't do something like that,” Lunus Oculus said, “None of them would.”

She looked up at Evancar.

“I know what you're implying, Professor.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Evancar pulled a face.

Nasir, now, walked up to the group.

“There is more to the cave,” he said.

“How do you know?” Lunus Oculus said.

“This place is one of refuge,” Nasir said, “I've seen a few places like it, back on my birth plane. We'd hide away in caves like this one when hordes came through. But if these people were smart, you'd want to have an exit. A way out that wasn't the entrance. Otherwise you'd just be trapping yourself.”

“Maybe we should go back to the Council with this,” Evancar said.

“Are you stupid?” Joseph asked.

The archaeologist shot him a surprised look.

“I think the Council already knows about this place,” Joseph said, “I think...”

“Careful what you say, Cobalt Joe,” Lunus Oculus said, and he was surprised at the level of anger in her voice.

“I'll say whatever I damn want,” Joseph growled, “And I'm telling you. The fact that they sent agents after you here means they know that there's something out here. What else would they be hiding?”

He gestured.

“It goes against everything they've said about this place. I don't know about you, but if I said that this plane was uninhabited, I'd make sure.”

Lunus Oculus grimaced.

Then nodded.

“I say we keep going through the cave,” Joseph said, “If there were people here, maybe they're still around.”

“On the other side?” Evancar asked.

Joseph nodded.

“We can get our answers there. Nasir, you want to take point?”

The old tracker nodded. And without another word, turned and started heading deeper into the caves.

***

Here the path was not as easy. The passage as they left the vast open cavern narrowed, to the point that at certain points they had to bend down and all but crawl through the claustrophobic spaces, heads brushing against the ceiling. Lunus Oculus and Thunderhead were used to this sort of spelunking, what with Lunus's hidden cave she had met the rest of her little group in. Nasir, too, was used to this. His life was one of survival, before he joined the guild. He had spent three years living in a small community on his birth plane that had hunkered down in a small mine. He had spent that time learning how to explore the dark caves of the mine. What direction the path under the earth might be taking. When it was time to call it quits, if the way was too narrow or dangerous.

He took point, though he found that, aside from the discomfort, the passage was relatively safe. A child could crawl through.

They spent what felt like hours pushing through the caverns. Time had no meaning here. There was no sun. There were no stars. Only the stone, sometimes cascading, sometimes spiked, at one point they passed by a shallow pool of water, the sand and mud hiding colonies of pearls.

The rushing water was the only sound. It covered their labored breaths, the coughs and Joseph's light curses as he grazed his knee. The only light came from his eagle's claw, or Evancar's flashlight. Things that Nasir did not need. The tracker was implacable.

Then, at one point, after an eternity, he stopped, licked a finger, brought it to the air.

“We're getting close,” he said.

They ascended now, climbing on a deceptively smooth sheath of stone, a pale cream in color, almost seeming to shimmer from the small stream of water that trickled overhead. This part was more dangerous, as the way was slippery. At one point, Evancar's boots gave way, and he started to slide back down. Cobalt Joe's soul twisted out from the sole of his foot, clawing down and catching hold of the archaeologist. With a heft, it lifted him back onto the rock so he could get a grip.

“Th-thanks,” he said.

The soul nodded, then dispersed.

Fortunately, the slippery-smooth stone eventually wound up to a more even path. They went from crawling on all fours back to being able to walk on two. All of them were exhausted, and at one point they stopped to rest and refill their water using a small underground stream running beside them.

There were fish in there. Small, blind ones, white with pockmarked black scales, as though river stones had grown fins and started to swim.

“How close are we?” Lunus Oculus asked.

“Close,” Nasir said, “A little ways more.”

They set off again. And now a pinprick of light was in the distance, a herald to the end of their journey through stone. They pushed forward towards it. The path became wider.

And Nasir stopped them.

“There's someone here,” he said.

At once they became guarded. Joe's soul began to thunder in his stomach, started rushing through its circuit. The air became his. Became filled with ozone. Nasir moved forward, a hand reaching for one of his knives.

He tilted his head to the side. The arrow grazed his cheek.

The tracker leaped forward, triangulating where the arrow had come from. There. Above, on one of the outcroppings, a figure was loading a second arrow.

They fired, though their aim was awry. Nasir avoided them, leaped up onto the jutting, chased after the assailant. Joe followed after him, then watched as the hunter tackled the archer and slammed him into the ground. The two were a tangle of limbs for a split second. It ended with the archer pinned face first to the ground, his arm twisted behind his back, Nasir's knife against his throat.

“Easy,” Nasir said, “Do not move.”

The archer struggled for a few moments. Then ceased. They wore a wooden mask on their face, and their clothing was made out of what looked like deerskin. Their bow had snapped in the scuffle, and lay beside Nasir as he held the archer fast.

“Gods, Nasir,” Lunus Oculus said, “He's just a kid.”

“As if that changes anything,” Nasir said, darkly, “Kid almost had me.”

Cobalt Joe brought his light up to illuminate the two of them. Indeed, it was a teenager. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, at most. He was glaring up at the light with a defiant look. He struggled more.

“...Get it over with,” the boy said.

Joseph blinked.

“We’re not going to hurt you, dude,” he said.

“You have a knife to my throat. You have won,” the boy said, “Kill me. Get it over with.”

“No one said anything about killing,” Lunus Oculus said, “Nasir, get that knife away from him.”

Nasir complied, but he did not break his hold. Lunus climbed up the shelf, kneeling down by the boy. Her red eyes glowed and shimmered, almost made the cave dusk.

“Tell me,” she said, “...Who are you?”

The boy did not answer.

“My name is Lunus Oculus,” the metahuman said, “The man holding you is Nasir. The man with the claw is Cobalt Joe.”

“People from the Outside,” the boy said.

“...Yes,” Lunus Oculus said, “You are… aware of the multiverse?”

The youth did not respond. His mutinous glare did not cease.

“Are there more of you?” Lunus Oculus said.

Again, no answer.

“He's... not going to answer that question,” Evancar said, from below. He started stumbling up to join them, “He thinks that if he tells you, you'll go out and kill them all.”

“I wouldn't-” Lunus Oculus said, “Why would I do that?”

“Look at his eyes,” Evancar said, “That doesn't come from simple suspicion.”

He looked at Nasir.

“I think you should let him go,” he said, “You're only hurting him now.”

“He could try something,” Nasir said, “Are you sure, archaeologist?”

Evancar nodded.

Nasir hesitated, then complied, releasing the boy and standing up.

“No tricks,” he warned.

The boy rubbed his arm. Sat on his haunches, coiled like a spring, ready to jump away at a moment's notice.

“My name is Professor Morandus,” Evancar said, “I'm an archaeologist. Do you have any of those?”

“What is that?” the boy asked.

“We...” Evancar searched for his words, “I research the past.”

“Like an elder.”

“Well, I'm not that old,” Evancar said, “We're all from... the Outside. From the multiverse.”

He tilted his head.

“I've told you a bit about myself. Now I ask you: what is your name?”

The boy recognized the trade. He looked at the wall, adjusted his mask. In the light, Joe could see that he had painted a face on it with red ochre dye. A thin, frowning mouth. Marks on the cheeks as though he were mimicking warpaint.

Here was a boy ready for conflict. Who had been guarding the entrance of the cave.

Alone.

“I will not tell you that,” he said.

Evancar nodded.

“That's fine,” he said, “And you won't tell us anything else?”

The boy shook his head.

“...Alright,” Evancar said.

He turned to the others.

“Let's move on.”

The boy started.

“No!” he said, “Don't go forward anymore!”

Evancar slipped down back onto the path. By now he could see the exit of the cave. The sliver of light had become practically gigantic, a full blown doorway to the world above. He stumbled after it.

“Don't go!” the boy said, and there was a new edge to his voice.

It was not anger.

It was fear.

But Evancar continued anyway.

The boy slipped down to the path. Nasir followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back.

“Nasir!” Lunus Oculus said, “No!”

But Evancar had stopped. Against the doorway, he was nothing but a dark silhouette as he turned.

“What's on the other side?” he asked.

The boy swallowed.

“A trap?” Evancar said, “Are more of you waiting outside?”

The boy shook his head.

Evancar rested a hand against the wall. There was something this boy, this warrior, wasn't telling them. Something he couldn't?

Or wouldn't?

“Will you show me?” Evancar said.

The wind outside was whipping, bringing cold gales into the cave. It made Evancar shiver, almost seemed to freeze his wet clothes to his stringy form. He nodded to Nasir, who let the youth go, the boy stumbling a bit on his own two feet. He was exhausted, Evancar realized. There was an emptiness to his eyes.

The boy nodded.

Hunkered down.

“Don't... don't leave the cave,” he said, “Just look out. But don't look too hard, or he will see you.”

***

Indeed, they were careful. The boy's steps became measured and slow, as though a single misstep could spell oblivion. Evancar matched his movements, shushing the others and waving them away from the cave's exit. He peeked out the cave's exit.

There was a small clearing of stone on the other side, a miniaturized valley of gravel and rock, a few spruces of green poking up here and there. The place was bowl-shaped, reminding Evancar of a nest.

And in the center of the clearing was a demon.

Serpentine, like a Dragon, but with the head of a monkey. Its scales were the color of clay, save for those on its neck, which seemed to be made out of lapis lazuli. It had many legs, like a centipede, though each one was from a different animal, wolves and bears and raptors and crocodilians. Three of the demon's eyes were closed. A fourth was open, blood-red and looking around.

As if looking for someone.

Evancar stepped back. Reconvened with the rest of the group. The boy continued watching the creature outside, still arched and ready to bolt.

“There's a demon out there,” Evancar said.

“How do you know?” Lunus Oculus asked. Her eyes looked out towards the cave's exit, then back to the archaeologist.

“Well, because it's out there,” Evancar said, “Demons are like Dragons. You look out at them, and part of you knows what it is. Like it's an immutable fact.”

“Describe this demon,” Nasir said.

“Serpentine. Monkey's head. Legs from the whole animal kingdom,” Evancar said, “Ah... four eyes.”

He was surprised when Nasir let out a low hiss of recognition.

“I know a bit about demons,” the archaeologist said, “But certainly not much. But you know this one?”

“It sounds like a demon from my childhood,” Nasir said, “Izmanuzu. Or something like it. Permutations were known to travel through the Squall my plane was in.”

“Izmanuzu?” Joe said, “How powerful is it?”

Nasir shrugged.

“I only know its description and name. And folktales my Teta told me about. It is a creature of the wind. It comes into the village at night to hunt stray dogs and children. It never needs to sleep, for one eye is always open.”

Joe nodded. He beckoned for the kid to join them. The boy, after a moment, slunk over.

“That thing,” Joe said, “It's been hunting you?”

“It hunts all of us,” the boy said, “They brought it here.”

“Who is they?” Thunderhead asked.

“The other outsiders,” the boy said, “The woman who used light. The man who used stone. The... mother carrying a child. She commanded it.”

The entire group was silent at that. Lunus Oculus looked like she wanted to vomit. Evancar let out a soft “Oh.”

Joe turned to Nasir.

“Alright,” he said, “How do we kill it?”

***

“You don't kill demons,” the Pit said to her small class, “Rather, a demon's form is unbound from the multiverse we are aware of. It cannot hold a corporeal form, and thus is forced to exit that which we know for darker spaces.”

She was in front of her class, a small gathering of like-minded apprentice magicians. Magic was an important part of New Ludayan culture. It was as myriad as they were, some bound by rules and others free with feeling. A thousand kingdoms, of words and motion and intonations and the creeping feeling at the base of one's spine. Here now the Pit sat in the center of the lecture space, which was wide-open and in a clearing of the forest.

One that once held significance, but she was not sure why.

(Nor did she try and question it, for this plane was pristine and new.)

“The form that a demon takes is myriad,” the Pit said, “Chosen by the demon at the time of its realization into our view of existence. Tell me, now, how does a demon come here?”

One of her students raised a webbed hand.

“By pacts,” the student said, “It is the binding that allows the demon to realize into the world.”

“That is correct,” the Pit said, “The binding is the demon's flesh. Now, how does one banish a demon?”

A pause in her class. The Pit waited for an answer.

(and counted her pacts in the back of her mind. Always one missing, always one gone.)

(Where was Izmanuzu?)

“No one?” she asked.

“You break the pact?” the webbed handed student asked.

“That is possible,” the Pit said, “If one knew the exact specifications of the pact itself. But the pact is usually broken by the one who made it, not by an outside force.”

“Violence,” another of the class said. He was a broad lad with cinderblock skin, and he moved slowly as he spoke, “That's how we did it on my home plane. Hit a demon hard enough, and it shatters.”

“You are from Tsaeyaru, are you not?” the Pit asked.

Her student nodded.

“That is another option, and the one that people usually go for,” the Pit said, “There is often little choice. But know this: demons are powerful beings. How many friends have you lost to them, on Tsaeyaru?”

The concrete student went quiet. The pain in his eyes was answer enough.

And now a third student raised a tree branch hand. When they spoke, the trees around them spoke, whistling and creaking.

“Betleh-Kep.”

And the Pit smiled.

“Yes,” the Pit said, “Betleh-Kep. The Meeting of Powers. It is a rare tool, as many pacts deny the demon from sitting in such palavers. But those are exclusionary. They only deny certain groups, or certain people. Tell me, what is the purpose of Betleh-Kep, Ensemble?”

The tree student Ensemble thought for another few moments.

“To renegotiate a pact,” they said, “Barring this, an opportunity for the demon to forgo its previous pact and move on to other duties.”

“Yes,” the Pit said, “A Betleh-Kep can be used to force a demon to renege on its old deals with previous pactmakers. But it is a dangerous process. A demon's prices are demanding.”

She shivered as she said this.

“A demon's prices are often overwhelming.”

***

Cobalt Joe, Nasir, and Evancar stepped out of the caves and into the small, shallow valley. Izmanuzu watched them approach, his remaining three eyes opening. A low hiss escaped from deep within his throat, and the demon began to arch back into an 'S' shape, ready to strike at the three of them. The wind began to ripple around Joe's ears, and he found it resisted him as he moved forward.

Joe took point, and he brought up a hand.

“I declare Betleh-Kep!” he said, and though his voice was sure, he still found the word odd to say.

Izmanuzu hissed again. The air at once went quiet and still. Evancar took out a piece of chalk from a bag, and he beckoned Nasir and Joe to sit down. Keeping an eye on Izmanuzu, he began to draw a half-circle behind the three of them. Then, he sat cross-legged beside Joe.

The demon watched this with careful eyes. He had still not unwound himself, but the air no longer whipped around them. It was as though he were a lizard deciding. Then, the monkey-headed demon untwisted himself, rearing onto his many back legs and arching up as though he were standing. His animal legs tucked in like birds' wings as he considered them.

“Outsiders,” he said, “Thou wishes for Betleh-Kep.”

“If your pact allows it,” Joe said.

Evancar had said that it should be him who did most of the speaking, at least in the beginning. Whoever had made the pact was probably a metahuman, and one of the stipulations for the declaration was that it was a metahuman who would need to do it.

It was also Joe, and not Lunus Oculus or Thunderhead, because Joe was the one with the most combat-focused ability. If Izmanuzu did not accept the Betleh-Kep, he stood the best chance of fighting the demon head on. The demon knew this, for he saw the way that Cobalt Joe studied him, looking for weak points in his form.

Izmanuzu let out a low chuff.

“Thou art a crafty one,” he said, “Betleh-Kep in my pact may only be declared by one who is both a Child of Imagination and not one of the Oshya:de.”

Joe's brow furrowed.

“I am metahuman,” he said, “I'm not one of these... 'Oshya:de.'”

“Then we may hold palaver,” Izmanuzu said, “Thou declares these two?”

“They are not metahuman,” Joe said, “...But they are not Oshya:de either.”

“It is the latter part that matters,” Izmanuzu said, “At least for negotiations. I cannot speak with the natives of this plane-”

(Ah, there was an answer.)

“But I will entreat with those of the baseline blood. Declare thyselves.”

“Professor Evancar Morandus.”

“Nasir.”

“The one on the left,” Izmanuzu said, turning to the tracker, “Thou art sly. Thou does not give thy true name.”

Nasir glared up at the demon. He resisted the urge to bolt.

“I don't,” he said, “You will call me by what I call myself.”

Izmanuzu considered this.

“I will not entreat with one who does not give their true names to me,” he said, “At least, not one of the baseline blood. A Child of Imagination's name is myriad and evershifting, but what of thee? Thou hath only thy name, and little else.”

Nasir grimaced.

He stood up.

“Leave, little baseline,” Izmanuzu said, “Thou have five seconds to return to thy cave.”

Nasir sprinted back in four. He tumbled into the darkness. Joe and Evancar looked at each other, before turning back to look up at the demon.

“And... your name?” Evancar said, “Your true name.”

“Hmm,” Izmanuzu said, and he let out a screeching laugh, “I am Izmanuzu Delacourmac of the Hundred Legions, Hunter of a Hundred Squalls. Look upon me, mortal, see me how I am.”

He writhed. All of the animal legs kicked. The monkey head was screeching, and through it they could hear the demon's laugh. An attempt at intimidation. For Joe and Evancar to leave the circle, and risk getting torn apart. Outside the circle, the wind began whipping up once more into a horrid gale, the air so sharp it was cutting gashes into the stone.

Only when Izmanuzu noticed that they were not leaving did the demon quiet down. He hunkered down to stare at them, four red eyes looking at them, switching back and forth between their two faces independently of the others, a doubled chameleon with the face of an ape.

“Metahuman,” he said, “What is thy want?”

Joseph – No, Cobalt Joe, swallowed. He picked his words carefully.

“I... want you to leave,” he said, “Leave this place. Leave the plane.”

Izmanuzu let out a low laugh.

“Oh?” he said, “Thy wish is for me to simply… go? Break mine oath with the one who placed it?”

“Who made your pact?” Cobalt Joe asked.

“That is a secret only between myself and them,” Izmanuzu said, “Only they may reveal it.”

Cobalt Joe nodded.

“Right,” he said, “Very well. Are you able to tell me your purpose here?”

“For a price,” Izmanuzu said, and he bared his teeth in a grimacing smile, “Tell me, what would thou give up in exchange for this?”

“What do you want?” Cobalt Joe asked.

“Thy soul,” Izmanuzu said, “Thine eagle. I see it slumber in thy belly, Child of Imagination.”

Cobalt Joe grimaced. And Evancar took point.

“Quite the trade,” the archaeologist said, and Izmanuzu's attention turned, “But not a fair deal, I would think.”

“Hmm,” the demon said, “Perhaps.”

“I'm sure we have something else you would want, yes?”

“Thine eyes.”

Evancar furrowed his brow.

He took out a book from his pack. Presented it to Izmanuzu.

“This book here,” he said, “Possesses knowledge of the Daynian Paradigm. Specifically old Traveling Points and other means that the Daynians used to build their interplanar empire.”

Izmanuzu looked at the book's cover. Sniffed it.

“Leatherbound, not plasticine,” the demon said, “Not of the High Federation.”

“It was written on Methuselah,” Evancar said, “One of the foremost Daynian scholars resides there.”

“And why this book, thou of the baseline blood?”

“Well,” Evancar said, “It's a new opportunity for you. A chance to expand into another Paradigm.”

Izmanuzu was quiet. Evancar prodded further.

“Look,” he said, “You can get this information easily, I suppose, but that would require quite a bit of travel. You'd need to make a pact with someone new specifically to get this information, or get it from a source from... wherever you're from. That could be dangerous. Here is a free opportunity to see the infrastructure of the Daynian Empire, quite a bit of which is still used today.”

He smiled his salesman's smile. Joe gave him a sideways look. How easily his pitch rolled off his tongue. Selling information to a demon was no simple matter, and yet Evancar was doing it as easily as though he were selling a used car.

He could see why Becenti didn't like him.

Izmanuzu took the book. As it curled around his crow's claws, it disappeared.

“Very well,” the demon said, “Mine duty is simple: to keep the Oshya:de in their caves. They are to be held there indefinitely, and I am to kill any I find who stray from their new home.”

Cobalt Joe thought of the boy, the youth with the bow, and understood his fear.

“I am not to speak to the Oshya:de,” Izmanuzu continued, “I am not to enter Betleh-Kep with them. I cannot enter the caves directly. The exchange for this is I am allowed to feed upon any I find. Per the original contract with the pactmaker, I am allowed any knowledge of the Hizimet Squall that the pactmaker learns. This knowledge is removed from the pactmaker's mind, and inserted into my own.”

Both Cobalt Joe and Evancar were silent. Joe's mouth had gone dry. On the other side of the valley, he could make out yet more caves. Small pockmarks on the mountain. He didn't want to risk using his eagle's vision in front of Izmanuzu, but he swore he could see figures looking out at them. A community. A people.

Cordoned off from the rest of New Ludaya.

Evancar nodded at this.

“What would we need to give you to renege on this deal?” he asked.

“Which one, Professor Evancar Morandus?” Izmanuzu said.

“The terms associated with you keeping the Oshya:de in the caves,” Evancar said, “The one pertaining to your killing them.”

Izmanuzu thought on this, rearing back up to his full, impressive height, a tower of the animal kingdom.

“What does thou hast to offer me?”

Evancar scratched his chin.

“I have more books,” he said.

“Knowledge is a fine payment,” Izmanuzu said, “But I desire more. Tell me, Professor Evancar Morandus, what does thou hast?”

His head turned to Joe.

“And thou, Child of Imagination? Thou will not release thy soul to me, but thou must have something.”

Cobalt Joe's belly was quaking. He was not sure what to say. Not sure what he could offer. In truth, this was not really his wheelhouse. Usually other guildmates did the negotiating. He did the fighting. It was a good arrangement.

He looked to Evancar.

“What is your wish?” Evancar asked.

Izmanuzu chuffed.

“To have dominion over all,” he said.

“Well, I can't offer you that,” Evancar said, “Not because I won't give it, but because I can't. I'm not a ruler of anything save for what's in my bag.”

“A lie,” Izmanuzu said, “I can smell thy ambition.”

Evancar grimaced.

“Perhaps not dominion of the world,” Izmanuzu said, “But thy wish to have dominion over the past. Thou would do anything for it, yes?”

Evancar licked his lips.

He could only nod in response.

“A respectable thing, thou of the baseline blood,” Izmanuzu said, “I will not leave this level of reality. There is much I wish to learn here. But I am willing to renege on the pact pertaining to the Oshya:de, if thou art willing to be a new vessel to travel.”

“P-Possession?” Evancar asked.

“Only thine eyes. I will see what thou will see. I have no need to control thy movements or thoughts. Those hold ambition plenty.”

Evancar grimaced.

“Thou will tell no one of this,” Izmanuzu said, “Neither thee, nor the Child of Imagination.”

“Hold on,” Cobalt Joe said, “Evancar, let's think about-”

“I agree,” Evancar said. He looked up at Izmanuzu, “You see what I see. And you leave the Oshya:de alone.”

“I will no longer devour them,” Izmanuzu said, “I will no longer hunt them if they leave their caves.”

There was no shaking of hands. No contract. Simple oral agreement seemed to be enough.

And the wind started whipping around them once more. Picked up gravel and sand and debris, swirling around them, forming into a dome.

One that Cobalt Joe could not see the other side of. He heard Nasir let out a bark of shock from the cave. Thunderhead roared out a “No!”

But he knew that none of them would dare leave. They could not hope to harm Izmanuzu. Could not hope to escape him.

The demon lowered his head down to Evancar. Evancar took off his glasses with shaking hands.

“You might want to stand back, Joe,” the archaeologist said.

Joe stood up. Walked back to the edge of the semicircle.

And Izmanuzu, all of him, all hundred legs, all of his wiry, serpentine body, rushed into Evancar's eyes. The archaeologist let out a yelp, though that devolved into a scream of agony as he fell flat onto his back, the demon entering into him through his eyes.

The wind quieted down. The dust cleared. Evancar was on his back, clutching his head, moaning.

“Like a splitting headache,” he said, “Good god, that's...”

He looked up at Joe. His eyes had become bloodshot, his pupils the color of dried blood. But that, at least, was returning back to its usual brown.

Joe walked over, helped him to his feet. From the cave, he could see Nasir and the others watching. Thunderhead was carefully stepping out.

“You didn't have to do that,” Joe said, “We could have found something.”

“We got lucky with that one,” Evancar said, shaking his head. He fumbled on the ground for his glasses, picking them up and wiping them, “Neither of us were good enough at negotiating to get a better deal.”

“Still,” Joe said, and then, tilting his head, “He can't hear you?”

Evancar smiled.

“He sees what I see,” the archaeologist said, “But he can't hear what I hear.”

The rest of them were coming out now. Lunus Oculus looked aghast. Nasir looked askance.

“Don't worry about me, Joe,” Evancar said, “This isn't... I've made deals like this before. I'll be fine.”

And, in the distance, on the other side of the valley, figures were emerging out of the caves. The masked boy started running after them. Someone ran over to him, the two meeting in the middle and embracing.

“It's worth it,” Evancar said, watching the scene, “Now, let's go meet these Oshya:de.”