The scene before me resembled the most surreal of art installations. In the room’s center was a raised pedestal of stone engraved with images of lush tropical trees, upon which was Amleila, in the form of a jaguar the size of small car. Her fur was mottled gold and grey, and her legs had all been cut off. In their place were bronze tubes connected to a series of bronze canisters suspended by more tubing.

The tubes radiated out from the floor and re-converged in a hunk of basketball-sized crystal near the ceiling, creating a cage around her. A single length of talon about nine feet long and slightly curved pinned her to the pedestal. It looked more like a quill to me, but Amleila had called it a talon, so that was what it was.

All around was the fury of the storm. The walls were entirely transparent, providing a view of its full glory. The rain lashed against the walls, but through the wash of water I saw lightning flicker in the distance. Then, for a moment, the wind wiped the view clear, and there was Asiik diving, his claws reaching out as if for me directly.

His targets, though, were people above and around us on the pyramid—enough for an expedition or three, and the room lit as they launched their magics at him. A man whizzed past, firing stone javelins. He wore a cape made entirely of glowing summer falcon feathers.

The view mesmerized the four undead warriors standing at the corners of the pedestal, their gazes locked on the bright lives treading atop the pyramid. These warriors wore only a loincloth and short snakeskin cape, and each carried a bronze machete in one hand and a wooden shield in the other.

All this I caught in a snapshot while crossing the room’s threshold, and then Dog’s Agility carried me the rest of the way in. The two closest warriors started to turn.

As Yuki cast Bear’s Strength and Spiral Pierce, I let my eyes focus on our enemies in turn, starting closest to me…

> The Butcher of Men (Undead, Dark)

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> Talents: Warrior’s Frenzy, Born to Last, Trained, Survivor, Banked Rage

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> The Stone Who Pierces (Undead, Dark)

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> Talents: Magic Stone Woman, Armor-Clad, Trained, Spikes for All, Banked Rage

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> The Falling Blade (Undead, Dark)

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> Talents: Natural-Born Killer, Butter Cutter, Trained, Whirling Blade, Banked Rage

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> The Master of Song (Undead, Dark)

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> Talents: Song-Touched, No Note Too Sharp, Trained, Shatterer, Banked Rage

A blink of my eyes and I was already slipping past the Butcher of Men. Ikfael had read my intent and held back from attacking with her obsidian knife.

The Butcher’s machete whirred as it passed over my head.

The Master of Song turned to face me, and her torso expanded as she began a deep breath. But before it could be completed, Ikfael shot the obsidian knife forward to slash the meat between her ribs. A quarter beat later, I finished the runes for an Unerring Strike and drove my spear into the wound Ikfael had created. The shaft bucked in my hands; it banged as the Spiral Pierce connected.

Air hissed from between her flesh, a lung punctured. The undead warrior continued to move, though—I hadn’t been strong enough to push the Unerring Strike through.

The Master’s shield swung around to knock me away, so I Sparked to buy a beat of time. Around us, the room lit as the clouds above released their own skyfire, bolts of lightning crashing down across the city of Old Baxteiyel, yet none of it was audible. The room at the top of the pyramid was silent except for the sounds of the smaller battle within it.

The undead flesh resisted when I attempted to carve open the wound. A second Spark, this time from Yuki and aimed at the Butcher, bought me a second beat to pull back my spear, re-angle, and jab again with another Spiral Pierce.

Ikfael shot her javelins at the Falling Blade to disrupt an incoming attack. All three were deflected by that warrior’s shield, which let the obsidian knife come in unnoticed from the right to bang with a Spiral Pierce through his cheeks, knocking old, yellowed teeth to the floor. It forced him to take a step to keep his balance.

A deep note emerged from the Master, not that different from the start of the THX fanfare. Instead of feeling nostalgia, though, the hair along my arms rose like something big and heavy was about to hit me. Desperate, my whole body worked to lift her up with my spear to slam her into the ground.

That finally managed to disrupt her core—the warrior’s back arched, the deep note cut out, and darklight poured from her mouth like a river. I turned the attack into a roll, then kept going to open the gap between my enemies and me.

Ikfael dumped hundreds of granite onto the ground, as well as a multitude of small, rounded river stones. I heard her obsidian knife punch through a shield. A glance showed that she’d attacked the Falling Blade again, but me looking directly at him had somehow caused my legs to weaken. I lost my footing and stumbled the next handful of steps.

The obsidian knife slashed his eyes, yet that didn’t help. He apparently didn’t need to see for his influence to continue working on me.

Yuki cast a second Dog’s Agility to get us out of danger. It wasn’t something we did lightly or often—a double cast of the spell strained my joints even with Iron Heart running. This was especially true with the Fallen Blade’s influence interfering with my coordination.

I focused on getting around the room safely. My ankles and knees creaked but thankfully held as I put Amleila between the undead and me. The jaguar’s face was impassive when I went past.

I also saw how, on the pedestal’s other side, the Stone Who Pierces’ body had become covered with rocky plates, giving context to her Magic Stone Woman and Armor-Clad talents. Spikes grew from her fists until they looked like morning stars.

Earlier, Ikfael had included two granite boulders among the debris now cluttering the room. She dove from my shoulder to merge with the nearest one, and once safely inside the stronghold, she began firing stone javelins at my attackers. Her obsidian knife wove between them.

As the fight drew out, the battlefield filled with the influence of our enemies. A weight pushed down on me and steadily increased. Lines of force pressed against my body. My belly filled with fear, like I knew my end was approaching. Individually, none of the sensations were overwhelming, but together the burden was heavy.

I suddenly felt lightheaded, and blood spurted from where a mysterious force had slashed the side of my neck. The other lines of force pressed even harder against me as if they’d been encouraged by this first success.

Yuki clamped down on the wound and reinforced my skin with Collaut’s Hide. They drew my eyes to the Butcher, who sneered. I gestured with my spear at him, and Ikfael responded by punching her obsidian knife through the back of his head. Bang! His brain splattered against the bronze tubes making up Amleila’s cage.

The Butcher staggered, then spun to defend himself against the knife. His influence did disappear, though, filling me with relief.

The obsidian knife aimed for the Butcher’s chest, but he knocked it away with his machete. Ding, ding, ding—silvered obsidian and dawn bronze collided repeatedly, with the bronze losing every engagement.

Until the Butcher let go his shield and machete, that is. He reached out for the obsidian knife barehanded, and his fingers fell to the ground like sausages. Yet he somehow managed to catch the knife in the meat of his hand—forcing it into his forearm and wrapping it with his other arm to trap it.

That effectively put the Butcher out of the fight for now, but at the cost of our most-potent weapon.

Water poured out Ikfael’s stronghold, quickly surrounded by granite to create a pool about two inches deep. I jumped that way, and a liquid pseudopod reached out to splash my neck. She cast the spell to heal me.

Crunch, crunch. The Armor-Clad pounded Ikfael’s stronghold, causing chunks of granite to break off. One more crunch later, a fracture split it down the middle. Ikfael’s spirit fled through the water toward the other granite block.

Yet the Falling Blade was there in an instant. His machete was unstoppable, carving through the rock like it was gelatin. I felt a spike of alarm as a second and third slash forced Ikfael to flee again; she sent the leftover granite out to encase his weapon. Where he swung his machete, she moved the stone with it and refused to let him slash through.

Lightning flickered again to illuminate the fighting outside. Briefly, Asiik landed, and his claws sent a man’s head rolling. Then the kalesk disappeared once again, merging with the air, only to reform a moment later for another attack. Which was poor timing, because the expeditions were now ready for him.

The man in the glowing cape turned out to be Xefwen, who shot a stone spear into Asiik’s chest. The other silvered among the expeditions, Tethdlen, appeared at the kalesk’s rear. An invisible attack rippled through kalesk’s body like he’d been hit by a car. A second twisted his neck as if to break it.

The crystal above Amleila’s cage wailed, and everyone froze. My spirit sickened, making me feel like I was immersed in something hideously blasphemous—a threat so terrible, the only reasonable response was despair.

Asiik gestured, and Tethdlen died. His spirit screamed in anguish as... as his soul was snuffed out. All that he was, was removed from the cycle of life and death.

Xefwen must’ve sensed the danger, because he’d grabbed a nearby soldier and tossed her in the attack’s path. She too died in both body and soul. I didn’t get the chance to learn her name or her talents. She was gone as well. There would be no coming back for either Tethdlen or her, not on Diaksha or any other world.

My skin crawled, and I wanted to vomit, but the feeling stuck in my throat like it was going to choke me. A pure fear overwhelmed me. The danger was beyond anything I’d imagined.

And it was compounded by the horror I felt from Yuki, the Deer God, and Ikfael. There was such a fundamental revulsion pouring into me from my connections to all three.

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Like ice thawing, the undead stirred into motion, yet my feet wouldn’t move. My traitorous mind couldn’t help thinking that if I died to the undead, then at least my soul would be safe.

I teetered at the precipice of despair.

And yet for years now I’d refused to let fear control me. I’d rebuffed Diaksha’s every attempt to overwhelm me. Everything could be practiced; everything could be trained. That included how to respond when the world itself sought to destroy me.

When frozen—whether it was by fear or indecision—any movement was better than none. If that meant making a mistake, then so be it. At least then you could recognize the mistake for what it was and change course.

So, I chose to act.

Inside my belly, the revulsion turned into wrath. I tightened the grip on my spear and just managed to deflect the Falling Blade’s machete. In the time I’d been stunned, he’d cut through the stone encasing his weapon.

My parry was enough to let me slip past the attack, but he cut my spear’s haft in two. That left me within his reach. All he’d need was a shift of momentum to split me in half.

Yuki!

The uekisheile slammed home the connectors to the Blink emulator. As the Falling Blade cut through where I’d been standing, I reappeared with both sections of my spear embedded deep in his body, his shield trapped against him. My gut was on fire from the internal injuries, but I’d gotten lucky and was still whole.

Nearby, I heard the sound of stone smashing stone, the crack and bang of Spiral Pierce and Ram’s Head spells.

I ignored the pain. Using the remains of the haft as a lever, I swept the Falling Blade’s feet out from under him, but that didn’t stop him from swinging at me. Ikfael threw a chunk of stone to block the attack, yet he cut right through it.

My cloak and armor split, and the whole of my back stung as skin and muscle were shaved away. My left arm let go of the haft in that hand—I couldn’t control it anymore.

Springing back, I rolled through the pool Ikfael had created. Both she and Yuki were occupied, so I cast the Healing Water spell myself. The pain along my back eased, as did the fire in my gut.

Standing back up, I checked my shoulder. It moved okay, so I shook loose the remains of my armor. It would only get in the way now that it was just the sleeves keeping it on my body.

Outside, the expeditions scattered, the rain seemingly washing away the presence of those still living. Only the bodies of the dead remained. All that was left behind were meat and bones.

Asiik took to the air before disappearing. Now without an organized defense, the expeditions would be nothing more than prey to him.

Lightning struck the top of the pyramid, but the electricity followed the water down to the city below, so I felt none of it inside.

Ikfael tossed me a spear, and I recognized the weapon’s ebony haft. Bearbane was Level 5 and her third-most-prized possession. The anti-bear enchantments wouldn’t help here, but at least the weapon was sturdy. I reinforced it even further, soaking it with my qi and mana.

I felt a need from Ikfael, so I spun to swing a Ram’s-Head-laden Bearbane behind me. My aim was off, but Yuki was ready with an Unerring Strike to make sure I smashed the Armor-Clad’s hip at the angle required to collapse her stance. The stone armor protecting her cracked but held. Still, the warrior fell and was down long enough for a stone javelin to bang through the joint.

I faded back as a morning star targeted my feet.

The rest I missed, because the Falling Blade was attacking again. He’d torn away the obstructions in his body, thrown aside his shield to focus on using the machete with both hands. I circled around the pedestal to keep him at bay.

The doubled Dog’s Agility had truly started to take its toll. My muscles burned, and pain lanced through my joints. The wash of Healing Water earlier had helped, but not enough—the strain would continue to pile up until the fight was over and I had a chance to recover.

‘Ikfael needs the obsidian knife,’ Yuki said.

As I circled, I grabbed onto the bronze tubes once to maintain my balance. The metal was so cold I lost skin pulling away from it.

“Shift in tactics,” I said aloud. “We need a slip and slide by the headless enemy.”

In response, Ikfael sent a spray of water across the floor, drenching the Butcher in the process.

I circled the pedestal again, then made a break for where the Butcher knelt and was grinding his wrist against the ground to break the obsidian knife. The Falling Blade followed with his machete at the ready. His influence told me I would surely die, but my hunter’s heart didn’t waver.

The Butcher sensed me closing, but I pivoted to get around him, then cast Cold Snap on the ground behind me. The Falling Blade kept his footing this time, but the Butcher wasn’t able to get to his feet. Whenever he tried, I kicked him off balance to send him back down.

Twice the Falling Blade looked to jump over the Butcher to get to me, and twice my spear poked him back. Yet even with Spiral Pierce, my attacks barely penetrated his flesh. He also regained his footing each time. His footwork and sense of balance were impeccable, even better than Mumu’s. He seemed wary of being knocked to the ground again.

I also felt the Deer God working—intently, intensely—to eat the power in the talon binding Amleila. Someone ran across the pyramid’s surface, and water sprayed out from the speed of their travel.

The Falling Blade leapt a third time. My spear reacted, an instinctual jab to push him back. And a Spiral-Pierce-infused javelin hit him in the back of the head, forcing it forward. My spear dipped—a risky move, since it risked him severing the haft—but the opportunity was too good to let pass. I cast a Ram’s Head to slam the spearhead into his quadricep, tilting his body even more.

Falling for real now, he twisted in the air to attack me like last time, so I let my Dog’s Agility drop to Bear-Strength kick the Butcher’s arm in the way of his ally’s attack, shearing the limb off.

The obsidian knife was once again free. It once again whizzed like the most lethal of mosquitos.

I’d moved to avoid being clipped by the Falling Blade’s attack, but the cost was taking a blow to the shin from the Butcher. The bone held, though, which was what mattered.

Ikfael tried to keep the Falling Blade occupied and down, but the warrior came back to standing, his machete flickering as it matched the pace with her attacks.

Re-engaging my Dog’s Agility once again, I sped to join the fight, but his machete wove in the air an impenetrable net. The undead warrior was too good for me to duel, even with the knife’s support.

“Focus Butcher,” I said, moving to lure the Falling Blade away.

The Butcher tried to follow too, but Ikfael interposed her knife between us. She tore him apart, cutting away his remaining arm and then slashing his legs to leave him helpless on the ground. Once she was done, he flopped like a fish.

All the while, I struck out to keep the Falling Blade focused on me. I danced around Amleila’s cage, drawing him away from Ikfael’s knife. Then, I heard the impacts of stone against stone as she sent the weapon against the Armor-Clad.

The undead warrior had broken the javelin embedded in her hip and was getting to her hands and knees to stand up. The knife whipped around her about found entry. So Ikfael changed tactics and instead drew all the granite except for the rocks needed for the water pool to encase the Armor-Clad. The material wrapped around her legs until they looked like large bells. Then the same was done to her arms, before all four limbs became connected in one amalgamation of stone.

Ikfael and I were now free double team the Fallen Blade. The obsidian knife shot past him to slice through his neck. I thrust for the open wound, but he parried, the training from his old life carrying over into his undeath. He defended himself like he was still alive.

At that realization, I stopped going for his core and aimed for his eyes, wrists, and feet instead—anything to draw his machete out of alignment. I was no longer running away, however, and he was much better than me in a straight duel. It took everything I had not to lose the initiative.

Bearbane was Level 5, and the haft—though nicked by the Falling Blade’s parries—remained intact. The only reason for that was because most of the attacks I’d made previously were feints. They’d had to be to preserve the weapon that had slain the King of the Forest.

Yet it wasn’t enough. I’d have to attack for real to create better openings for Ikfael.

The shift in tactics forced the Falling Blade to commit to his defense, and a sliver of wood shaved away from where our weapons connected; my deflection hadn’t been clean. Then when I went for his eyes, the pattern repeated.

Feet and eyes, feet and eyes—the Falling Blade’s machete traveled from low to high and back again, over and over. All the while, the spear’s haft became increasingly chipped and nicked.

The obsidian knife didn’t waver, though, and as the spear was damaged, so was the Falling Blade’s body, now cut in myriad places.

Unfortunately, Ikfael was out of qi, so there were no more Cat’s Claws or Spiral Pierces from her. I’d have to be the one to push through his dark flesh. The problem was I still couldn’t get through his defense.

If anything, he started to press me, moving to slip past my spearhead and putting me within his reach. Normally, I’d bash with the haft and retreat, but that’d be a good way to get Bearbane cut in two. Instead, I retreated each time, counting on the obsidian knife to stall him long enough.

‘Another stalemate,’ Yuki said, and I felt them energizing the Blink emulator for a second run at this enemy.

This one’s going to really hurt, I thought. Then, when the time came to retreat again, I let myself unfold into the extended Blink pose.

Which caused the Falling Blade to halt his pursuit. There surely weren’t thoughts in that undead brain of his, but I could’ve sworn the expression on his face said, “What the hell are you doing?”

He returned to a ready stance, and his machete rose to receive this strange attack of mine. Then the world shifted, and my gut burned. My right hand also felt wrong.

We’d pinned his sword arm to his body, but my right hand had intersected with the Falling Blade’s forearm, losing the battle between dawn and dark. The bones and muscles were a crumpled mess. God damn it! I thought while I grabbed the spear’s haft with my uninjured hand to pull it out partway.

The Falling Blade now had a seven-foot-long spear embedded in him. Using it as a lever, I twisted and turned with Bear’s Strength to force him over to the water pool. Grimacing, I used the stone boundary to trip him into it, and then held on for dear life to keep him grounded.

A pseudopod of water reached up and slid under my buckskin to get to my belly. Ikfael healed my internal bleeding but left my hand as is until the bones could be set first.

In the meantime, the Falling Blade kicked with his legs. I did my best to stay out of the way, but some of the blows were unavoidable. “Hurry!” I yelled.

The obsidian knife caught the Falling Blade in the neck.

It meant me taking a hit to the shoulder, but I bent down to slam a Ram’s Head into the knife’s haft to drive it deeper. Then, once inside, the knife wiggled its way down into his chest cavity.

I finally let go of Bearbane and moved out of the way. Coming to standing, I limped to put the pedestal between the Falling Blade and me. All I had to do now was wait him out, which was exactly what happened. He got halfway to rising before the darklight hissed out through the numerous wounds on his body, and he tumbled face first into the water.

Inside her cage, Amleila gazed impassively at me. Her eyes, I noticed, were like green jade. Her spirit struggled inside them, hissing and spitting with a ferocity entirely missing from her physical body. Slightly, she tilted her head, which drew my attention to the gold chain around her neck.

Cradling my injured hand, I simply stood there sucking in air. There was still the Armor-Clad to deal with, but I could spare a moment’s quick rest. Taking stock, I sensed my qi well was about half empty and my mana down to a quarter. Yuki was in about the same position. We’d done a good job spreading the burden evenly.

As for Bearbane, when I went to pull it free from the Falling Blade’s body, the haft snapped in two. The spearhead was salvageable, but the weapon wouldn’t be the same unless we enchanted a new haft to match the head.

Checking on the Deer God, I couldn’t locate him, but I felt like he was continuing to make slow-but-steady progress eating the power within the talon. He also seemed to be getting stronger and stronger as a result.

Looking around, all I saw was the storm drenching the city. The lightning bloomed like flowers among the ruins. It was like the end times, the winds at the center a giant swirling whirlpool above Old Baxteiyel.

Ikfael emerged out of the water. “That was hard,” she signed.

“Yes,” was all I could get out between breaths.

She looked up at the crystal with trepidation. “It—” she started, but didn’t seem to have the words to describe had happened to Tethdlen and the unnamed warrior.

“Yes,” I said again, in full agreement. There were no words to describe the horror. The power to destroy a soul truly was heaven defying.

Would smashing the crystal be enough? I hoped so. But first—

She pointed to the Armor-Clad. “The neck is all one piece. There is no joint. We’ll have to use the shoulder. Or a third Blink.”

“We don’t have another Bearbane,” I pointed out.

The otter frowned at my injured hand. “Come here, quickly.” So I did, and her scrying spell materialized. “The hands are always troublesome. There are too many bones.”

That may have been so, but Yuki made quick work of pushing and pulling them into place, their Dog’s Agility buzzing. The two of them worked faster than ever to heal the damage done by my half-baked Blinks. When they were done, I could move my fingers again; the pain was gone too.

Ikfael pulled a regular, nothing-special-about-it spear from her pocket, followed by a second like the first. She handed them over and signed, “Do you think you can Blink them next to each other inside the warrior’s body? If so, that would create an opening wide enough for the obsidian knife.”

“If I hold them together when casting the spell, yes.”

“Then that’s Plan One,” she signed.

“And what’s Two?” I asked.

She reached over to add to my belt her magic dagger. “Plan Two is the shoulder.”

“Three is the trap at the stairs, and Four is we retreat.”

“Four is a last resort.”

“Agreed,” I said, looking over at Amleila, then up at the death crystal. “Before we start, though...” I hefted one of the new spears and made as if to throw it at the death crystal above us. What I really did, though, was watch for a reaction from Amleila.

Her body tensed, and her expression began to snarl.

“Nope, bad idea. Can’t touch that, at least not until she’s free.”

Ikfael nodded. “When you’re ready, I’ll drop the stones around the undead warrior’s chest.”

“Then let’s do it.”