I was not all right. I thought realizing that, acknowledging it, was the first step. Next...

I lay on my bed for a long time, sniffling and thinking. Thankfully, I was the sort of person who could wash my face and a few minutes later appear as though I'd never cried, all evidence mysteriously vanished from the scene of the crime. Then I Meditated and tried to sleep until the hour approached something reasonable, at which point I left my room.

I was slowly chewing on a reheated breakfast of oats, nuts, and fruits while reading the papers when Senior Rubrik emerged. He hurried through his morning rituals to join me, knowing I typically lingered in the morning when I wanted to talk.

I in turn knew he preferred a direct approach: "I would like to see a Mind Healer."

He faltered before continuing to drizzle chocolate syrup over his omelette. "Certainly. Would you like a list of suggestions? Or prefer if I made the arrangements?"

"Um... a list if you aren't sure, but I trust your judgment." I poked at a strawberry slice, trying to work up an appetite. "I need someone cleared to discuss restricted information per my contract. And also able to handle issues arising as an adventurer?"

"I understand." Feeling uncomfortable, he added, "I should mention superior service does not come cheap, though you may benefit from a Learned and possibly also Silver discount." I nodded. "If I may, is this due to the Archives...?"

I stared down at my bowl. "In part, but mainly Duni... um, the dungeon tried to kill me."

I'd decided to leave out the majority of the context, not because I distrusted Senior Rubrik or was embarrassed, but because I already felt guilty over his disciplinary hearing. As it was explained to me, mentors were scrutinized more stringently in their role primarily for the benefit of us mentees, preventing abuses of power, negligence, etcetera.

If I confessed all, would he be required to report my late-night teleportation and consequent fiasco to the guild? Would he be torn between differing loyalties? It wasn't even that I was trying to hide my rank stupidity from the other Scholars, but the whole issue raised additional considerations that could be neatly sidestepped by simple omission.

Maybe it was this missing context, though, which made him look at me in polite puzzlement as if wondering why I was even surprised. Maybe (probably) not. But he exhibited his customary care. "I am sorry to hear that. Are you all right?"

"I will be." Or I hoped so. "I'd like to see a Mind Healer... and I plan to discontinue visiting the dungeon."

My mentor seemed relieved to be able to offer aid. No, since he already had, this must be more than that. My brow furrowed, and I just said it: "You're relieved?"

His lips pressed together, but he could hardly deny it. "I found your attachment to that dungeon concerning. Not only because you know it is slated for destruction."

My face crumpled. Perhaps I should've felt a measure of satisfaction at the reminder, but the cycle of death and violence begetting yet more death and violence was no cause for joy. However, though he told the truth... I sighed. "You're hiding something."

"I do not believe it will benefit you to hear this," Senior Rubrik said.

Normally I might not have pushed, but now I stared at him grimly. "I'm already reading up in the Archives. And yes, having difficulty sleeping," I admitted. "But that won't stop me from reading more."

His concern spiked. "You should take better care of yourself, Rowena," he chided gently. "Have you considered sleep aids?"

"Oh," I said, realizing I in fact hadn't. "Um, good idea. Thank you." But I refused to be diverted from the original subject. "Is this about Duni?"

I sensed the answer from him, and it was my turn to regard him quizzically. "But... I already know it will be destroyed. It already tried to kill me. What more...?"

We sat in a loaded silence while he thought. At last, he said, "Are you certain you wish to hear this?"

"No. Tell me anyway."

He was also a Scholar. He understood. "Are you aware of Grimmark's probable contract with Hellsfell?"

My eager curiosity transmuted into dread and foreboding in an instant. I swallowed heavily. What did this have to do with Duni? "No. Is this restricted information?"

"It is. We do not have concrete proof, merely substantial evidence supporting the theory. Dungeons do not normally care for human politics, but Hellsfell has consistently defended the interests of Grimmark's rulers. In return, Grimmark has continued to offer sacrifices every year, even after the Treaty of 2850. One type of sacrifice in particular."

I stared at him in incomprehension. He was waiting on me to make some logical deduction, but I just couldn't see it. What did Hellsfell's sacrifices have to do with...? Oh.

"Dungeon Cores," I realized with a sinking feeling.

"Correct. We cannot know the exact terms of their agreement, but I believe this gives Grimmark a possible motive as well as means to relocate a dungeon." Wait. What? Seeing my confusion, he explained further, "If the relocation failed, the destroyed Core could simply be sacrificed right away. Presumably success would grant Grimmark some advantage in timing."

"Hold on," I said, "You don't believe Duni, our dungeon is a newborn? Or anomalous?"

I thought back to my 'proofs': King Rat, or... or Executive Clancy had sounded as though she believed my theory. Then I considered what I'd read of dungeon relocations. Relocated Mature Dungeons typically skipped over standard starting minions, didn't they? But then again, there were too few documented successes to generalize.

As if mirroring my thoughts, my mentor said, "I do not believe we have sufficient data to reach a valid conclusion one way or the other. However, in case the dungeon is relocated, I hope I need not elucidate why your continued involvement should be discouraged."

Of course, if Duni was a Starting Dungeon, nobody important should be paying notice... whereas a Mature Dungeon changed the stakes entirely. "But if that were true," I said somewhat desperately, "Surely it would be better guarded."

"And draw more attention?"

He had a point. I wasn't sure why I hated the idea Duni might not be anomalous after all. (Hadn't we previously settled this?) Well, there were multiple reasons, but I couldn't sort out my main motive myself in the moment.

"Regardless of whether the dungeon is anomalous or Mature, it will be sacrificed to Hellsfell. I am glad you no longer intend to concern yourself with it."

I nodded slowly, hiding my horror. As much as I felt conflicted regarding Duni and its inevitable destruction, I absolutely did not want it to become Hellsfell's sacrifice. The idea hadn't even occurred to me before; in my defense, I'd only learned Cores could in effect cannibalize each other from reading Hellsfell: A History and Mystery, and then I had been distracted by the rest of the book.

Compared to that, I would rather destroy Duni's Core myself.

I left out these darker thoughts when relating my morning conversation later to my friends, but my feelings regarding the intended sacrifice must have been plain. "Oh, that is awful," Bessie said sympathetically.

"You didn't know?" I asked.

"No, but it makes sense," Hannah said. "The number of destroyed dungeons keeps rising, right?"

"I thought that's because more dungeons keep forming. And the Breakers." Was it Hellsfell's greed all along?

"Does it matter?" Blake said. "You already knew Duni would be destroyed and its Core consumed. So what if it's Hellsfell doing it?" I opened my mouth and he added, "Even if Duni's Mature, it'll just be a drop in the bucket for Hellsfell."

"That sort of attitude is how the dungeon keeps growing stronger!"

"Not our problem."

He really didn't care. The 'invincible' dungeon accruing even more power didn't bother him at all. Bessie broke in, saying, "So we can report Duni already?"

I blinked over at her. "What?"

"Well, it's no longer that strange for it to develop a second floor. Hopefully it'll be such a non-event nobody will ask questions."

Less strange still in another month or two. I recalled all over again my selfish request risking my friends' careers -- when I couldn't think of a personality more suited to adventuring than Bessie's -- and for what?

"Or maybe they already know? If Duni isn't a super-smart baby?"

I swallowed past a lump in my throat before speaking. "All right. You can report it."

I wasn't betraying Duni or anything so melodramatic, I sternly reminded myself.

"Actually," Bessie said apologetically, "I think we need to go back into Duni one last time. Think about it. One casual question on when we entered the dungeon or saw the boss..."

I looked around the library's private room as though searching for an answer out. "Do you need me to go?"

"Why else would we bother with a newborn dungeon? Besides, awfully suspicious if the first time we're missing a member we suddenly have to make a report. Wouldn't you say?"

The logic was irrefutable. I sighed and dipped my head. At least I'd have the chance to say a permanent farewell to King Rat, or rather to confirm it couldn't care less. But the thought of facing Duni again...

"We don't need to descend to the second floor," she reassured me. "Enough to say we saw the boss. And we can truthfully say we didn't kill him, and wouldn't because of you."

"Won't they check the second floor?" Tom said. "How will we explain its size?"

This gave us all pause. Come to think of it, Duni's core room had started near the stairs and steadily grown farther and farther away.

We exchanged worried then gloomy looks. "Wow," Hannah said, "We really didn't think this through, huh?"

"We better take a break from visiting," Bessie said slowly, thinking aloud. "Then we return and report it, and... hopefully everyone will assume it had a sudden growth spurt while we were gone."

All this trouble they were suffering through because of me. When Bessie switched topics to my birthday, I smiled weakly and agreed to anything.

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity keeping me busy. I had to return to work as a Skill Advisor, and it was almost a relief to don my anonymous mask and address other people's problems. I continued studying Scrolls under Senior Grace's watchful eye -- somehow, despite her cataracts -- and didn't dare slack even though I undeniably felt less motivated, now I had the Scroll I'd wanted for so long (and much good it had done me). I looked into the original author and Copyist of my breakthrough Book for [Mind Over Matter], then requested the latter's for [Intermediate Scribe]. My mentor also hinted I was under consideration for an important assignment involving my [Intermediate Universal Translation], and I confirmed that yes, I was definitely interested.

Then there was the surprise visit from Jeff, who dropped by to say he'd managed to narrow down possibilities after speaking with the rusalka, but the marked locations were all far inland without nearby waterways and might have anti-water enchantments to boot. In other words, he thought he maybe knew where Nailla's sisters could be, finally... but they weren't anywhere she could reasonably reach.

Normally I would have rushed to her after this news. I realized deep down I hadn't expected anything to come of Jeff's promised investigations, or why else would I be reeling? And if I was this shocked... how must she feel?

But though she'd had nothing to do with recent events, somehow my views on Nailla were affected by them. I realized I'd been arrogant and careless, disregarding well-established beliefs and well-meaning advice regarding dungeons and monsters all because of my personal feelings and wishes. Suddenly, I no longer felt so safe visiting Nailla as I had been.

I couldn't help her, and Jeff already said he wouldn't do more. In such a situation, I wasn't sure how she would react. Stay and sulk? Swim far away? Or, before leaving, enjoy some tasty human snacks?

If I did die by undine, anyone hearing my story would rightly say I should've seen it coming. Once again it felt wrong to trust, and wrong not to.

I didn't seek out Nailla.

My early-morning first appointment with a Mind Healer came coincidentally on my eighteenth birthday. (Welcome to adulthood?) I was surprised and pleased to find our meeting would take place in the Scholar's Guildhall, just a hallway and few turns from the entrance to the Archives.

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I'd read through the recommended materials ahead of time, of course, so I was able to easily fill out the required forms... until I came to the bill. Goodness gracious! My eyes popped at the sum. I'd originally planned to trust my mentor's judgment and only view it after, so I wouldn't be stuck thinking of the cost during the appointment itself.

Too late now. This single session was over a silver! I could buy a set of ten adventuring classes and have change left over! Actually, now I could benefit from the Silver discount... and wasn't this supposed to be doubly subsidized?

No, stop thinking of money. I was here for my mental health and wellness. That was worth any price... right?

Having arrived early, I read and Meditated while waiting. Exactly on the hour, I was called inside and stepped from the professional waiting room into someone's sparsely furnished but spacious living room, judging by appearance. The floor was softened by carpets, while a couch and chair were centered in the middle, the color scheme tending toward brown and grey. The smell of incense lingered in the air, originating from a burner on a side table.

I had a moment to take this all in before the Mind Healer chosen for me looked up from the chair. He was an elderly bearded gentleman with dark, soulful eyes visible even behind an enhanced monocle. His snow-white hair was neatly cropped, and he wore understated mage robes. Most noticeable for me, however, was the feeling of serene surety radiating off him, reminding me of Hannah's father but sharper and more cultivated. It was the aura of someone who had experienced much before choosing his current profession, which suited him at this stage in his life perfectly.

"Welcome, Rowena Loress," he said. "Please put down your things before joining me. Do you prefer to be called Rowena, Learned Loress, or something else?"

"Rena, please," I said, reluctantly parting with my book before perching on the couch.

"Rena. And I am Horace Bishop. Please call me Horace or Healer Bishop as you prefer. Before we begin, is there anything in particular you wish to discuss?"

I hesitated, embarrassed, but there wasn't food or drink or anything else to occupy myself with, which was no doubt intentional. "Do you know I'm an Empath?"

"I do." He flickered with slight interest but otherwise remained remarkably placid. "I have some experience with Empaths as clients."

I looked at him curiously, but he didn't elaborate further. "Everything we cover today is confidential, right? Did... um, you sign a magical contract or something?"

"I did," he said, again without any indication of concern or offense. "I have counseled several clients with weighty secrets, and additionally I am a Learned Scholar myself."

I sagged in relief.

"I should clarify I am bound by secrecy except if I judge you a threat to yourself or the guild."

I thought about this a moment before nodding. "That's fair. No more questions."

"Wonderful. Then, do you have [Meditation]? I would like you to sit back, close your eyes, and breathe evenly." The timbre of his voice changed, becoming slower, softer, more soothing. "Circulate your mana and clear your mind. Very good. Envision for me your safe place. Somewhere that makes you relax and feel at peace. Nod when you are ready."

He fell silent. My mind went immediately to the library, any library. I nodded.

"Wonderful. Now I want you to center yourself in your safe place. If you can, I suggest arranging yourself in a sitting position within your space. What do you see? What do you feel? Can you hear anything? Smell anything?" After each of his statements, he paused a long moment, finishing, "Nod when you are ready."

I did.

"Keep your eyes closed. Stay relaxed. Focus on your safe place. [Dreamscape]."

I felt the surge and shift in mana around me. Despite my immense curiosity, I kept my eyes closed and thought of the library.

"Good," he said, and I could sense he was sincerely pleased. "You may open your eyes."

I looked around in delighted wonder. We did appear to be in a generic library, not exactly like any one I'd known. When I scrutinized specific details too closely the whole image seemed to blur and waver like a watery reflection, telling me he had the Intermediate but not Advanced Skill. It was still a marvelous trick, although...

"Isn't it risky to use our safe place like this?" I asked. "I mean, if the session ends in tears, wouldn't it maybe add negative associations?"

"Excellent question. We will not be staying here, and you will find the Dreamscape harder to hold together when you grow overly agitated. Your goal then, whenever you need to restore your equilibrium, will be to imagine yourself back here. Eventually, you may find this practice aiding you even outside the Skill."

I looked at him skeptically, but he was the professional Mind Healer. If he told me to think of libraries whenever I suffered a mental crisis, I would give it my best shot.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled that old book smell. I could hear the rustling of pages absent any voices or footsteps. Actually, I didn't think I'd ever been in such an empty library... though it wasn't really a library.

Healer Bishop asked, "How do you feel?"

"Good," I answered, looking over at him. "Intrigued. A little nervous. But you can tell all that, right? Your monocle?"

"You have keen eyes, Rena." I twitched; my name sounded odd coming from him. He didn't fail to notice my reaction. "Rena?"

"Sorry. I'm just not used to somebody much older using my nickname. But I'm not here to talk about that," I added quickly, unwilling to start delving into my whole history.

He clearly saw through my attempted redirection and obliged me: "What are you here for, then?"

"Um..." Though this was what I'd intended, my mind blanked. "I'm not sure where to start. It's probably easier if I just show you."

His brows lifted. "Have you done this before, then?" he asked without any note of reproof, as though I hadn't filled out my form stating the opposite.

"No, but I know of the Dream Healer Path of Skills. Do you have [Dreamshare]?"

He gave me a beatific smile and offered his hand. "I do."

I hesitated. "Or [Dreamgaze]?"

"That too," he said seriously, "But [Dreamgaze] is more prone to misinterpretation. I advise against it unless you can't bear to revisit your memory."

I knew that, but hearing him voice the knowledge aloud helped me shake off my cowardice. I concentrated on my most recent misadventure and took his hand, saying, "No, go ahead."

"[Dreamshare]."

Our surroundings dissolved, reforming into the pitch blackness of the tent inside Duni. I relived my experience as I remembered it, including what I'd heard and sensed, almost as though I were a bystander temporarily trapped in my past body.

Sometimes the memory grew noticeably fuzzier, where I couldn't recall events exactly and realized it. I also knew better than to take the clear images as facts; I recalled reading the Bearstein Case, where a dozen eyewitnesses of a murder produced nearly the same number of conflicting memories, though no signs of magic or foul play could be found.

My attempts to distract myself fell apart when memory-me reached Duni, reaching out to touch the Core. I felt its ugly anger, my own heartbreak. Then I readied to teleport away.

Healer Bishop squeezed my hand, reminding me of his presence. "Now your safe space. Remember your library."

It was astonishingly easy -- I suspected he helped the reformation process along -- but the effect on my mood was immediate. I could see my surroundings visibly shore up as I calmed down, 'grounding' myself in my fake present among reassuring books.

Still, a few tears escaped, trickling down my flushed cheeks. I couldn't even look at Healer Bishop, knowing he could detect what I was feeling, and I was ashamed to admit to a little self-pity. A taste of my own Empathic medicine (which I'd thought I'd already taken in strong doses, but apparently Duni's nonhuman nature didn't count).

"[Handkerchief]?"

I accepted and dabbed my eyes, glancing down in surprise as the spots of wetness were absorbed, leaving the soft fabric pristine. "Incredible. You'd need to lend your handkerchief something like a hundred times just to gain the basic Skill, and for the upgrade..."

"I am the one impressed," Healer Bishop said smoothly. "You do know your Skills."

We sat quietly for a moment -- I did not think of my spent silver -- before he said, "I experienced strong emotions directed at the dungeon. Could you explain that for me?"

I opened and closed my mouth. How did I explain Duni to a stranger? Maybe he would question my sanity, which would be even less funny considering he was my Mind Healer.

Finally, I shook my head and extended my hand not holding the Handkerchief. "Better, I believe, to show than tell."

"In that case," he said, taking it, "I want you to focus on the dungeon generally without focusing on specific memories. The dungeon as you saw it before, if you can."

I looked at him a bit nervously but nodded. "Ready."

What fresh associations would my mind spring?

"[Dreamshare]."

We were carried together into my first two meetings of Duni -- how very logical -- from hearing it crying to communicating with it the first time. The next was Duni saving my life, my shock and gratitude. Then we began skipping around chronologically: Executive Clancy explained the imprint theory; I explained Duni's possible anomaly; Duni and I made our nonviolence, nonkilling pact. The memories became less comprehensible from there, jumping erratically like flipping pages in a picture album too fast to take in more than a few details.

"That's enough." An accompanying squeeze of the hand. "The library."

As I was growing dizzy, I happily closed my eyes and concentrated. I knew I'd succeeded before I reopened them.

"Very good," Healer Bishop said. He was doing a passably fair job of repressing his curiosity, though he felt alight with interest. "I believe I understand more."

I smiled humorlessly. "Do you? We only saw like six memories, half of which weren't with Duni itself! You must think we barely interacted. Which isn't wrong, but..."

"Our impressions are often shaped by a few particularly memorable instances." He regarded me thoughtfully. "How would you summarize your relationship with Duni before? In no more than three words."

I hesitated.

"Don't overthink it. Imagine we are playing word associations. You and Duni were...?"

"Special," I admitted. "Hopeful. Exciting." I flushed, thinking right after, 'Risky. Doomed. Limited.'

He nodded thoughtfully. "What of Duni itself? How would you describe it?"

"Um..." I cast around for a new word. "Nonhuman?"

"Would you say it is 'special, hopeful, exciting'?"

"Yes...?" My heart sank. "Are you saying I projected what I thought of Duni onto what I thought of our relationship?"

"Perhaps," he said with maddening calm, "But you should be the best judge of that, provided you can achieve objectivity."

I couldn't resist. "Isn't an objective opinion an oxymoron?"

He didn't play along. "I believe it is possible to study a situation objectively, considering all the different angles as though you are an outsider, before forming your own opinion based on your relative position. Outside assistance can help, but nobody can manage your thinking for you. Now. I want you to think over what you know of Duni objectively."

That was embarrassingly little. I remembered my many attempts at communication, which most frequently were frustrating failures. Though I still thought evidence supported Duni being anomalous, my mentor's words had installed doubts.

At least I found I didn't mind analyzing otherwise sensitive subjects like this, turning awkward confessions into interesting research. "I don't know Duni," I concluded, "Not objectively or subjectively."

"Yet in your memory, you felt betrayed," he pointed out, "Meaning you must have developed expectations. Where did those expectations come from?"

"I... I just wanted to give Duni a chance. I wanted to believe the best of it, even though it's a dungeon."

"So your sense of betrayal was actually disappointment? Because it didn't match up to your hopes?"

"We also made an agreement. I know, I shouldn't expect a dungeon to honor its word, but... Why else did it save my life?"

"That's a good question," he said. "Why do you think?"

"Because it's illogical?" I suggested. "Whether it's an anomalous Starting Dungeon or normal Mature Dungeon, it hasn't reached human intelligence... and actually, humans can behave irrationally too."

"Seeming illogic often conceals hidden motives," Healer Bishop said. "What do you believe motivates Duni? Or any dungeon?"

"Eating," I answered, not without bitterness. But then I paused, considering. "It... liked when I pushed myself, I think. And... disliked when I rested..."

I blanched, staring at Healer Bishop in shocked dismay. "Could that be it? It tried to kill me-- us-- because we committed the grievous, unforgivable sin of sleeping?"

"It sounds possible," he said calmly. "I suggest looking in the Archives."

"That doesn't excuse attempted murder! Or breaking our agreement!"

"It doesn't, though keep in mind Duni isn't human."

I frowned. I was glad he wasn't quizzing or lecturing me on the dungeon, but... "How are you so... nonjudgmental about this?"

"I chose not to specialize in familiar counseling," Healer Bishop said, "But I have studied nonhuman mindsets, both professionally and out of personal interest. I may not have Empathy, but Dreamsharing is also not limited to other humans."

"Oh." I looked at him with fascination, opening my mouth to ask, when I thought of the nonhumans in my life. Guilt, fear, and uncertainty flared up, and I said instead, "While we're on the subject... I'm not sure how I feel about killing monsters..."

[Dreamscape] had the benefit of stretching our perception of time, especially when Dreamsharing memories. I marveled how much we managed to cover in only an hour.

Still, aside from the one revelation I credited to myself, I didn't receive any more grand insights resembling breakthroughs. On the whole, I wasn't sure how I felt regarding Mind Healing. I couldn't help thinking I was capable of achieving the same results on my own, or with people I knew... but maybe that wasn't the point?

I could spare the time, one hour twice a week. And I could spare the silver.

At least, Healer Bishop didn't make me feel dumb or delusional regarding Duni... while ripping my remaining blinders away.

I retreated to the library for some light reading, and then I was to meet my friends for a birthday lunch. To my surprise, they directed me to a familiar path out of the city.

I eyed the large basket Tom was carrying. "We're... going on a picnic? Wait," I realized. "Nailla?"

"You're probably in no mood to celebrate the normal way, so why not?" Bessie said. "You haven't visited her recently, right? And are you keeping up Running?"

I flushed guiltily. She knew me too well.

In truth, I felt safer with them accompanying me and glad they'd offered it. (But I still insisted we return for my Scroll of Advanced Teleportation.)

Nailla rose right up from the water as we approached, regarding us fearlessly. I felt my friends stiffen behind me; I'd nearly forgotten how intimidating she could look, the sun barely penetrating the deep blue of her upper half that gradually transitioned into the lighter blue of the river's surface. She was in a troubled mood, no surprise there.

"Why do they come?" she asked me in a bell-like voice. "Do they bring offerings?"

"Wow," Hannah said waspishly. "She's a charmer." But she did grab a fish from the picnic basket and fling it at the undine.

"It's a special occasion!" Bessie said. "Her eighteenth birthday!"

"Eighteen years." For a moment her darkness receded, replaced by curiosity. "To you humans, is that... long? Short?"

"Both?" I said. Where normally I'd have sat right by the riverside, I now used the picnic luncheon as an excuse to keep my distance. "In some countries, I'm just reaching adult age. In others, I already was or haven't yet."

"You humans and your arbitrary rules. Why can't you simply evolve?"

My friends didn't appreciate her tone, but I just smiled. "From what I've read, your evolutions are far from simple."

"Compared to some other species," she agreed. "Tell me, on this special day, why are you not with your dungeon?"

My smile froze and slid off. That was right, I originally had planned to spend today in Duni.

"Oh, was it already destroyed? Pity," Nailla said with real feeling, "I so wanted to pay it a visit."

"No, it's just..." Then there was nothing to do but explain yet again what had happened.

The undine listened intently before pronouncing, without an ounce of sympathy: "Fool."

"Hey!" Hannah started to exclaim before she and the others broke into furious whispers.

"You should have expected a dungeon will try to kill you. As minions we considered these attacks training or tests of worth."

"Wait," I said, "You were a minion?"

"I have been," she replied unconcernedly. "I am much older than your 'eighteen years.'"

"But why didn't you say anything? You know I'm interested in dungeons!"

"No, you are interested in your very particular dungeon." The reminder made my shoulders slump and heart ache. "You may find it abhorrent, but it is only natural to eat and be eaten," the undine said, her tone nearly gentle. "Recall that for a dungeon, humans are its favorite food. If my favorite fish could sing prettily enough to wring the heart..." I sensed a jolt of hunger from her before she said simply, "I would listen and then bite."

Maybe she was trying to cheer me up, but of all the ludicrous defenses! "No! That would not be all right! Then maybe you are both--"

I stopped short. Nailla smiled, showing her very sharp teeth. "We are monsters? We are wild? We are not tame pets of humans?"

"I never wanted you to be tame," I said, "But is basic civility too much to ask?"

"Truly? Then why do you keep visiting me? Why on your 'birthday'? Why bring me fish and share your troubles?"

I didn't understand her sudden tone of accusation. But she sometimes had mercurial moods, and no doubt she'd been dwelling on Jeff's news. Shaking my head, I said, "I just want to help you, and I think you need the help." Wincing, I looked down. "But I'm sorry to say there's little I can do."

"Convenient."

"Hey!" This time Hannah brushed off the others, standing up and glowering. "She doesn't have to visit or help you, you know. Or to put up with your insulting attitude."

"You think I don't know that?" The water churned underneath Nailla along with her emotions. "Do you think I wish to be beholden to a landlubbing human?"

"Ah, you aren't beholden," I interjected. "Jeff is the one who--"

The surface abruptly settled. "Swear to do everything you can to save my sisters."

"Pardon?" I said, taken aback. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but I knew she had just reached a serious decision.

Hannah seethed. "Now see here--"

"Swear it," Nailla said, raising her chin, "And I will consent to be your familiar."