(Dylan)

Tome & Key took their positions around the ship, while Dylan and his fellow initiates helped Wedge sort through their remaining supplies, taking stock of anything even remotely useful. It took most of the day, but the crew recovered a decent amount of the scattered supplies.

Quinten was the pack for Tome & Key—the member responsible for storing the team’s gear with a storage ability. Athrax, Dorian’s replacement and the team’s heavy, hadn’t been a permanent member, so he’d kept his belongings separate. Unfortunately, those belongings, including his armor, were now lost to the jungle.

Adding insult to injury, some of the old soldier’s abilities only worked with specific equipment. Without his armor, his combat effectiveness as the team’s heavy would be severely limited—a major blow to Tome & Key’s operational cohesion. Without a dedicated heavy to absorb damage, Runemist would have to stay vigilant, carefully managing her resources to keep everyone alive, including the initiates.

Athrax, feeling like a burden from his lost armor, suggested they ask to enlist Medic Echo to help Runemist with support. But the captain refused, stating she couldn’t spare their only medic. Also, Medic Echo’s host had been unranked before they died, ironically during a guild trial of their own. She only had a couple of mending abilities, none of which would’ve been any help in combat.

After the lamprian crew had finished scavenging and hauling the recovered supplies back, they took over as lookouts, freeing up Tome & Key.

P’reslen returned, his noble demeanor overshadowed by a grim expression. As he landed, he gently lowered Spotter Echo’s body from his shoulder to the ground, where it reflexively curled into a tight fetal position. Dylan overheard one of the crew and that the lamprian had gone into crystalis. The term hadn’t conjured this image in Dylan’s mind. From a respectful distance, he examined the lamprian, but all he saw was the form of a lifeless skeleton.

“Your first?” Ostello’s voice cut through Dylan’s thoughts. He appeared beside him, arms crossed and jaw set, the faint scent of amber announcing his presence before Dylan even turned.

Dylan glanced over, unsurprised by the intense elf’s sudden appearance. “My first?”

“Body.” Ostello’s gaze stayed fixed on his teammate, his posture rigid, bracing against some unseen weight.

Dylan glanced away, remembering his first night on Mother of Dragons—and the bodies. “No…” he said, shaking his head.

Ostello regarded Dylan’s unexpected answer with a side glance. “Not mine either.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as some of the tension in his body eased. “But it’s his.” He gestured to P’reslen with his jaw. “It doesn’t matter that they probably entered crystalis from the fall, well before he’d set off to find him. He’ll never forget today—his first. I hate that the important lessons always hurt the most.”

Dylan wasn’t sure he followed Ostello’s pragmatic words. “What lesson?

The intense elf turned his head to look down at him. “You can’t save them all.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed he might say more. Instead, he turned and walked away.

With a heavy sigh, P’reslen cast one last look at the first person he couldn’t save. Quinten walked up and wrapped an arm over the draconi’s broad shoulder, gently guiding him away from the body.

“Reckon you can give me a lift back to the landing zone, mate?” Quinten asked, keeping it light as he tried to distract his friend. P’reslen gave a solemn nod, leaning down to scoop Quinten into his arms.

Quinten held on to P’reslen’s neck and said, “Not gonna lie, mate. I kinda like this bit.” He gave him a playful wink, earning a laugh and a smile from the noble draconi, who rolled his eyes. With a reluctant grin, P’reslen crouched low, launching into the sky with a powerful burst of air, heading back to the landing zone to recover what they could find.

The rest of Nightshade were summoned to the Captain’s Quarters for another meeting. At least the speaker system still worked.

Runemist took a breath. “Alright, here’s the revised plan—”

“What about P’reslen and Quinten?” Hay’len asked, noticing both of them were missing.

“I’ve already gone over it with my team,” she said. “There’s nothing more we can do for the airship repairs. According to the captain, they’ll cannibalize non-essential systems to get the Everafter flying again. We’ll leave as soon as it’s ready to take to the sky.

“That means we have two goals to accomplish. First, we have to deal with the arc beetle, so it doesn’t shoot us out of the sky again when we try to leave—”

Dylan raised his hand, but didn’t wait to be called on. “I thought you said we shouldn’t fight the arc beetle…?”

“We aren’t,” Runemist said. “We’ll either lure it away or otherwise distract it.” She waved her clawed hand dismissively—that was an issue to be dealt with later.

Athrax stepped forward. “If I could just get me bloody armor back, we could give it a go.” He punched one cybernetic hand with his other, the metallic clang punctuating his words.

“No one’s fighting the bloody beetle!” Runemist growled, glaring at them all—an unspoken challenge for them to interrupt her again.

Athrax stepped back with a low grunt, his cybernetic arms crossed tightly. “Fine.”

“Second,” Runemist continued, “while we’re waiting for the repairs, we’ll have time to complete our quest—”

W’itney couldn’t hold their tongue. “You want us to look for a book while we’re being hunted by an arc beetle!?”

Hay’len shook their head and turned to W’itney. “Arc beetles sustain themselves on coniferous broad-leaved trees. It’s highly unlikely to be hunting us for food, or even aware of us. To them, we’re the insects.”

“They’re still omnivores,” Eury added. “Never mistake don’t for can’t.”

Runemist’s dwindling patience had run out as she tapped her foot, waiting for them to stop interrupting her. “Wedge, a little help here?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Since when does Nightshade condemn curiosity? And this is an opportunity for you to grow just as it is for them. Patience is a muscle like any other, only improving with use.” Wedge noticed her exasperated look and turned to the initiates. “But… perhaps we could reserve our questions until the end?” He raised his eyebrow, offering them all a compromise.

Runemist closed her eyes for a moment to take a breath and gather her calm. “Either way,” she said, opening her eyes, “we still need to locate and track the arc beetle and then figure out how to distract it. Since we’ll already be out there, we can keep an eye out for the objective. However, survival takes precedence over the quest.

“We don’t have the supplies to make a forward base, so the airship will serve as our base of operations. Each morning, I’ll check in with the captain for updates on the repairs. If there’s time, we’ll search the jungle for the arc beetle and the objective, returning to the airship before nightfall.

“The water filtration system is still operational, and Cook Echo can prepare any game we bring back if our food supplies run low,” she said.

Dylan’s anxiety was growing, a tight knot forming in his stomach. His trunk had been on that murderous pallet back in the landing zone. His hands fidgeted, restlessly picking at his nails as he kept glancing toward the horizon, waiting for P’reslen and Quinten to return.

“When we go out, it will be as one team. There’s not enough daylight left for an excursion today, so get some rest. We’ll head out early tomorrow morning. That’s all I’ve got,” she said, ending the meeting.

Today’s unexpected disaster had taken its toll on everyone. Few words were exchanged, replaced instead by weary glances and a handful of forced smiles. Even W’itney, usually brimming with energy, was uncharacteristically solemn.

A door shimmered into view on the deck and swung open. Quinten stepped through, with P’reslen following close behind, both laden with armfuls of supplies. Dirt and leaves clung to their clothing, evidence of their search.

“A little help,” P’reslen said to the initiates, nodding toward the portal. Eury and the twins stepped through without hesitation. Quinten approached Dylan, handing over a small bundle of supplies.

“Found your trunk, mate. This lot’s all that made it, though,” Quinten said, offering a sad smile. Dylan slung the bag of shells across his chest and hefted the mud-caked shotgun over his shoulder. Relief washed over him as he spotted the original pair of pants Charles had given him—sturdy and worn but still intact. Not even this trial could break them.

‘It’s a good thing I ate this morning,’ he thought, looking at the small stack of wrapped loaves sitting in his hand—only three had survived.

Runemist appeared next to him, her gaze distant. “Do you still want to know what happened? I’ve learned the hard way that some things are better left unknown. This might be one of them.”

He straightened to his full five foot nine-and-a-half inches. “If my friend had to live through it, the least I could do is understand what she went through.”

“Follow me.” Runemist led him to the very back of the ship, where she leaned against the railing to keep watch. Deep gouges stretched for miles in Everafter’s wake, like a god-sized plow had parted the ground. The air smelled of churned earth and scorched wood. He joined her, resting an elbow on the railing as his gaze followed the trail of destruction.

Without breaking her watch, she asked, “What do you know of lamprians?”

He placed an elbow down on the railing, settling in as he recalled what Nathan had shared with him about the symbiotic people. “They’re one of the mythical races that share a body with a host and take over when the host dies.”

“Basic, but succinct.” Her nose lifted, catching a scent on the wind. After a moment, she continued, deciding it wasn’t a threat. “Lamprians need a host because they don’t have a corporeal form. They’re beings of energy. To them, energy, mana, and lifeforce are all the same thing.”

He did his best not to interrupt and just listen.

“Once the host’s body dies and their soul departs, the lamprian awakens—they’re born. They use their energy to sustain the host’s body, preserving and restoring it if damaged. To avoid burning through their energy too quickly, they enter a dormant state called crystalis. Recovery from crystalis can take months, even years.” She paused, giving him time to process and ask a question.

Dylan straightened to look at her. “Does that… mean they’re immortal?”

She kept her gaze fixed on the ruined valley. “No. Lamprians have a finite amount of energy over their lifetime. Once it runs out, they die… like everyone else.”

“What does this have to do with Echo?” he asked.

“I don’t think I can properly explain the gravity of what Echo did.” Runemist hesitated, tapping her claws lightly on the railing. “While crystalis is defensive corporally, it leaves them vulnerable to other lamprians.” Her voice dropped, reluctant to continue. “She performed nekralis on the original Mechanic Echo…” She gripped the railing, her claws pitting the wood.

When Runemist didn’t immediately continue, he asked, “What does that mean?”

“I’m getting to that part. There’s no kind way to describe it. You have to understand—they’re creatures of pure energy. And nekralis is highly addictive…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to explain concepts she, herself, didn’t truly understand. “Something about the expansion of energy and adding to their collective life experience.

“Echo consumed the crystalis, absorbing the remaining energy and killing the other lamprian in the process.” Runemist shifted uncomfortably, speaking so casually of murder. “She retains all the memories, knowledge, and abilities of both hosts.”

“She’s far too dangerous to be around other lamprians. Now, she has to live with an insatiable craving for the rest of her miserable existence. Lamprians have a way to detect when one of their own has gone through nekralis and will actively avoid her. For good reason, too. Those who give into nekralis eventually grow strong enough to overwhelm lamprians outside of crystalis.”

“Holy shit,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“Echo has murdered one of her own and turned herself into a monster, so that we have a chance to fix this ship and return home.” Runemist turned to face him, waiting for him to notice and meet her gaze. “You’ve got a big heart that loves easily and makes friends quickly.”

Dylan smiled, taking her words as kind.

Runemist frowned at his ignorance. “That wasn’t a compliment.” His smile was replaced with uncertainty.

She sighed. “I was also cursed with a big heart; a large target that’s easy to hit and hard to break—but devastating when it does. Big hearts come with big feelings, and not all of them are kind. Be careful around Echo. She’s not your friend anymore.” Her voice softened as the words lingered. He shifted uneasily, turning her warning over in his mind.

He pushed himself off the railing, the weight of her words pressing down on him as he walked away. Behind him, Runemist remained still, her gaze fixed on their exposed flank as the sun touched the horizon.

Today was a lot to process. An electric-bug type kaiju shot their only mode of transportation out of the sky with a single attack, causing them to crash-land in the middle of nowhere, and stranding them in a dense jungle. He’d narrowly avoided becoming a people pancake by his own luggage. Technically, that meant flak had quite literally tried to kill him—a betrayal he wouldn’t forget.

It’d be a couple of weeks before anyone knew they were missing. Their expedition wasn’t scheduled to return to Nightshade for at least nine days. A rescue mission would take at least another four-and-a-half days to get to them; the same time it’d taken them to reach their destination.

He did some quick math in his head, frowning at the results. Best-case scenario: three servings of flak would have to last him eighteen days. Worst-case scenario: he’d find out what happens when he ran out of resets as he deathlooped his way through starvation. While Deathloop Dylan had a catchy ring to it, that’s not how he wanted to go out.

That meant his only hope was his friend, Echo, who’d been asked to murder one of her colleagues and, literally, take their place as the ship’s mechanic. Her promotion came with a bigger body, new trauma, and an unhealthy craving to devour other lamprians. An energy vampire—they turned his friend into a god damned energy vampire.

Today sucked.

Dylan found himself standing in front of his cabin, though he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. His legs felt heavy, his mind foggy—a result of the adrenaline crash—but it didn’t matter. He just wanted to crawl into his hammock and fall asleep before anything else terrible happened.

After checking the shotgun was unloaded, he cleaned it as best he could without field stripping it. The light metal felt cold and gritty in his hands, and his room smelled of mud and oil. He laid down in all his gear, clutching his remaining flak tightly against his chest. He was tired of losing things.