Ikfael jumped into the figurine hanging from my neck, and I took a steadying breath before lifting the two spears into position.
“Ready three,” I said.
‘Ready,’ Yuki answered.
Ikfael’s figurine tapped against my chest. Her obsidian knife hovered over my right shoulder.
Three beats later, Ikfael let the rock clinging to the Armor-Clad’s upper body fall, and the undead warrior was revealed to be in the middle of swinging her morning-star fists. The sudden lack of resistance caused her to stumble, which was when Yuki engaged the Blink emulator.
The world warped, and I found myself across the room, having completely missed my target. I’d left my waterskin open just in case, which let Ikfael splash me with a healing spell.
The Armor-Clad turned to charge me. I licked my lips and gritted my teeth so that I wouldn’t accidentally bite my tongue. Yuki Blinked us again, the pain worse than before. I really must’ve torn something badly this time. The injury was worth it, though. Both spears were lodged firmly in the undead warrior’s torso, through the smaller ribs on her right side.
I faded back to avoid getting smashed by a morning star. Then, I removed the stopper to my second waterskin with one hand and shot with the other a Spark at the spears’ hafts, the electricity surging through the wood into the Armor-Clad’s body. The undead warrior jolted for a beat, which gave Ikfael time to cut away the hafts sticking out, leaving a gap through which she plunged the obsidian knife.
As Yuki healed my internal injury, the Armor-Clad shuddered. She smashed her own chest, then hit her own head as if she’d gone mad. None of it looked good or sensible, so I backed away farther and put the pedestal between us.
Meanwhile, the Armor-Clad continued to attack herself, yet there still wasn’t a plume of darklight to indicate her death. Instead, the stone covering her chest and face shattered. The pieces turned to stand on their edges, then dug into her body, seeming to focus on the area around her heart. Gods damn it, I thought. She’s shielding her core, isn’t she?
Her body heaved with the effort, but eventually she stood upright. The Armor-Clad stomped toward me, smashing her morning-star fists together. The exposed flesh of her chest rippled as Ikfael’s knife continued hunting for a way through to her core.
I switched to Dog’s Agility, and fortunately the Armor-Clad wasn’t as fast as the Falling Blade, so I only needed the one spell to stay out of her reach. With the qi remaining in both Yuki’s and my wells, I could keep this up for almost another half an hour.
We wouldn’t wait that long, of course. If Ikfael couldn’t pierce the shielding around the undead warrior’s core, we’d disable her like we did the Butcher of Men. The knife was already inside her body, after all.
And in fact, about a minute later, I heard a hiss of frustration from Ikfael’s figurine. The obsidian knife changed direction to burrow its way through the warrior’s chest to the left shoulder, slicing the tendons and muscles connecting the arm until the limb fell to the ground with a thump.
The Armor Clad gazed down at it for a moment before continuing to stomp after me. The skin across her chest bulged as the knife traveled to the other shoulder. The flesh parted when the blade traveled around the spine, the weapon submerging deeper on the other side. Then, all it took was another handful of beats to sever the other arm at the shoulder.
The Armor Clad once again paused. A growl sounded from deep within her, and spikes formed across her knees and her feet. She jumped! Yet the undead warrior was too heavy to cover the required distance, so I ducked back to keep retreating. Ikfael was putting in the work; I’d buy her whatever time she needed to keep it up.
Round and round the pedestal we went. If we’d been kids, it would’ve looked like a game—maybe something out of a horror movie. The Armor-Clad seemed to chase after me with increasing desperation, as if she knew her time was limited. The knife was digging its way through her to reach the joints in her hips. Not much longer now and she’d end up grounded like the Butcher.
Yet, just as I had that thought, I saw the stone shards accumulate at the undead warrior’s shoulders and hips. They poked out of her like she was a Road Warrior extra wearing a tutu.
Especially at the shoulders, the flesh expanded until a stone shard shot at me. It pinged off a stone tube, but I ducked anyway, then started to count beats. A second shard came right after the first, but the third took a full five seconds in between. The firing cadence was irregular—taking a peek would be risky. I counseled myself to be patient and to stick to moving while out of view.
Ping! Ding! The attacks chipped the pedestal above me. Sparks flew as the shards clipped the bronze tubes. A glance showed that the metal had creased where it’d been hit. Ding, ding, ping! The rate of fire increased as the Armor-Clad seemed to grow accustomed to making these ranged attacks. The shards sent sparks and stone chips raining down upon my head.
Somehow, we’d transitioned to the stupidest fight ever with me crouched and running around the pedestal, listening intently to the undead warrior’s clomping in case she changed directions. It would’ve been ridiculous if it wasn’t so damn dangerous; I hadn’t exactly forgotten the gut-wrenching threat of soul death hanging above us.
I’d just turned another corner when I spotted several of the damaged bronze tubes ahead distorting, the weakened metal stretching as the pressure within expanded them. A dangerous thought came to me, Time that right, and it’ll explode next to the Armor-Clad.
I hesitated, which let the undead warrior come into view. Shards jutted out of her chest and belly, and a platter bisected her torso, no doubt to protect her hips from Ikfael’s obsidian knife. I dodged and rolled, lingering at the pedestal’s corner longer than I would’ve liked. But it was necessary for the timing.
The Armor-Clad’s aim wasn’t great, but she still managed to shoot me in the right shoulder. Bones broke upon the impact, and the hit sent me tumbling. I tried to turn it into another roll, but the angles were all wrong. I ended up splayed on the ground on my back instead.
Bang, a gunshot. Ping-ping-ping, the sound metal ricocheting off stone. I also definitely heard the sound of liquid under high pressure spraying.
And then… I don’t know. I’m not sure what happened.
The uncertainty was the result of three seconds of my memory disappearing. One of the canisters had blown. I mean, that part was obvious in the aftermath. Fragments of bronze dotted the room, and a silvery, viscous liquid drained out of the remains of the tubes. Splatters of it slid down the walls and puddled on the floor.
My idea had worked, though: the Armor-Clad’s torso had been torn apart by the explosion, a cloud of darklight rising from the meat left behind.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t gone unscathed either. All the canisters had blown, and the entire room was dotted with bronze and covered with the silver slime. My back felt scalded. At the last moment, I must’ve turned and curled up to protect Ikfael’s figurine with my body. Her spirit stared up at me, seemingly as dazed as I was.
A bit of the slime sizzled on my skin. During the blackout, I somehow twisted my broken shoulder, because I nearly couldn’t breathe from the pain shooting through me. It was worse than anything I’d ever felt before.
Yuki…
‘Anesthetic incoming.’
‘My back too…. I must be covered…’
‘Working on it.’
Relief flooded through me as both spells took effect. Still, my mind was blurrier than it should’ve been. Am I concussed?
Yuki’s examined my injuries. ‘Your meridians are stimulated, abnormally so. Let us do all the qi casting until we know more.’
My memory’s funny, I thought.
‘The time is missing for us too.’
A notification blinked on my phone—at least that was clear—but I needed to make sure we were safe before checking for any skill increases.
I saw the obsidian knife prying its way out of what was left of the Armor Clad. The fight with the undead warriors was certainly over. All that was left now was dealing with Amleila and the death crystal.
Then I had a terrible realization. My eyes locked onto the jaguar whose fur was splattered with bronze. The tubes at her joints had burst, which exposed that they’d extended deeper into her body like a secondary circulatory system. All her muscles were clenched tight, like she was engaged in a titanic struggle.
Clumsily, I got up and rushed toward the Butcher. If he was dead, then we were screwed. An Amleila without defenders was an Amleila forced to take action against us. Unless the canisters blowing would help her resist her enslavement? But we couldn’t be sure of that. Except, my soul was still intact, so maybe that was the case?
We couldn’t take the chance, and Ikfael must’ve thought so too, because she brought the obsidian knife with us. With my left hand, I tapped a code on her figurine, “Parallel attack.”
The figurine tapped back, “Yes.”
There was a chance her obsidian knife might not work on high-silvered flesh, but hopefully the sly attack would at least go unnoticed. The air trembled with the jaguar’s distressed subvocalizations. Plus, as large as she was, it also meant the tubes running through her body were similarly sized—the perfect entry point for the knife.
I smelled the scent Ikfael’s Anesthetic spell. She must’ve wanted the insurance, so that Amleila wouldn’t notice the knife entering. That tactic never got old.
In the meantime, on the other side of the pedestal, I saw the Butcher’s foot had been cleanly severed by a length of bronze tubing, but he was still kicking. His shin smeared the floor in an effort to push away from me. I blinked—why would an undead move away from a source of life?
My eyes tracked to where he headed, and four feet away from him was a chunk of silverlight the size of a grapefruit sitting in one of the silvery puddles. He inched his way toward it.
No, nope, uhuh! Not gonna happen.
I moved past the Butcher to pick up the silverlight with my left hand. Suddenly, all around the room, more silverlight came into being, emerging out of the shimmering slime. The walls, ceiling, and floor glowed.
The chunk I was holding half merged into my hand, but then it stopped as if there wasn’t any room left in me. The silverlight stuck like a barnacle, rendering both my hands essentially useless.
At the same time, I felt a sharp pain across my back—even through the Anesthetic spell—and the rest of the silverlight at the top of the pyramid vanished. The notification that had been blinking snapped to the forefront of my mind. The last remaining soul mark had finally been decoded.
> God Touched
>
> A god intervenes and repercussions follow. To be God Touched is to be an agent of change, whether you intend to be or not. A balance must be maintained, however. Even gods cannot escape the strictures set down at creation’s dawn.
>
> This soul mark acts as a compromise between two worlds: accommodating Earth’s systems within Diaksha’s. It is a filter-adapter-translator to allow aspects of knowledge, skill development, talents, and magic to work where they might not.
>
> At the core of God Touched is a fragment of the World Spirit’s authority in order to ensure the integrity of the soul mark’s functions.
Oh, so that’s what it does. But the rest of my thoughts scattered as the tooltip disappeared and a stack of urgently blinking notifications manifested in its place. The first opened without me willing it to.
> Warning: Soul Dissolution Imminent
>
> 325,144 silverlight gathered, yet the talent vessel does not have sufficient capacity. The structure is overwhelmed and in danger of dissolving. Intercession requested to allow for a remedy.
>
> It is recommended to either increase the vessel’s capacity or redirect the majority of the silverlight to an alternate beneficiary immediately. Warning: soul dissolution is imminent.
>
> If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I started to choke as the contents of the warning registered, which caused Yuki to send an urgent query asking what was wrong. We quickly merged for them to read my memory, and a beat later we both fell out of the union in shared alarm.
They said, ‘We can take half. That should help, right?’
In response, the next notification opened.
> Intercession Granted
>
> The God Touched soul mark intercedes to pause silverlight assimilation and ensure balance between systems. The estimated time to reach a conclusion is one-forty-eighth of a day. A translation is provided: half an hour.
My body trembled from the cold and the fear. I only had half an hour before… Is that how the death crystal works? By overloading the soul with silverlight? No, no, that can’t be it. The silverlight was still inside the canisters at the time.
As if it couldn’t be stopped, the next notification opened:
> Option Identified: Divert to the Symbiote
>
> A symbiote to the talent vessel has been found. Sharing the silverlight would result in the soul dissolution of both entities, but diverting the majority to the symbiote will result in their destruction instead.
No! I thought. There’s no way I’d do that to Yuki.
In response, the next notification popped up:
> Option Identified: Fuse with the Symbiote
>
> The capacity of the talent vessel can be increased by permanently fusing the symbiote found within it. The process would take place at an expedited pace to accommodate the current crisis. The amount of silverlight would still be dangerous, but the risk of soul dissolution would be greatly decreased. Instead, the result would likely be the scarring of both entities, negatively affecting future talent acquisition and the breadth and depth of their connections to the World Spirit.
Okay, so if Yuki and I permanently merged, our combined soul would be big enough to contain the silverlight. That… that would push us up to almost Level 20, but then our progress would be hindered, and we wouldn’t be our individual selves anymore. There’d also still be some risk of soul dissolution.
Yuki rode close to my consciousness. A light merge told them all they needed to know. We’d come a long way, the two us and grown accustomed to the way things were. Neither wanted to give up what we had, but if that was the only way to live then—
> Option Identified: The Beloved
>
> How long will you wait to recognize your beloved? How long will she deny the bonds she has formed, balancing them with exchanges instead of the sacrifices required from the true recipient of her affections. The beloved share of themselves, including of their talent vessels. This option removes the obstacles and would allow the process already begun to once again resume at an expedited pace to accommodate the current crisis.
>
> The silverlight would be shared between both beloved. Excess silverlight would remain, as would the threat of scarification of both beings’ vessels. The risk of soul dissolution would be greatly reduced.
Within her figurine, Ikfael startled like she’d been poked—no doubt the World Spirit letting her know of that last option. A complicated expression was on her face when she turned to gaze up at me. My face must’ve looked similar.
She’d told me she wanted me to stay with her, and I’d told her I wouldn’t go anywhere without her. We’d expressed those intentions and meant them.
I didn’t know enough about what it meant to be beloved. I’d asked about it before, and the answers had always been sparse—intentionally so. Most things around how the spirits did things were secret. I thought it was to keep people from gaming the system. The proof of the dangers of that lay on the pedestal next to me.
I realized my lips were dry. My hand itched where the silverlight had clomped onto it. “I would like—” I started, but then pain overwhelmed me as the Anesthetic on my shoulder suddenly wore off. Yuki quickly refreshed the spell, and then I went to sit with my back against the pedestal. I was starting to feel dizzy.
The Butcher changed direction to head toward me, but Ikfael hopped out of her figurine to corral him with a circle of granite. Then she pulled out her water tablet to make a show of examining my shoulder.
A subtle nod told me the obsidian knife was working. Her face showed her worry, however, when she looked at me.
Right, a parallel attack. Keep the balls juggling, Ollie. “Listen,” I said aloud. “This is a terrible time, but we should talk.”
The next notification opened despite my intentions.
> Option Identified: Integrate the Nonvalid Talent Vessel
>
> There exists a nonvalid talent vessel in close proximity. Outside the World Spirit yet making use of your soul marks to connect to the land and grow in strength, this “Deer God” defies the natural order and ignores the cycle of silver and dark. Divert the majority of the silverlight to this being to begin the process of integrating them. They shall become a valid talent vessel with all the benefits and responsibilities therein included.
>
> This “Deer God’s” soul structure is sturdy enough to absorb the majority of the silverlight available. As a result, there will be no harmful effects to any of the participants.
I sensed the Deer God snorting. He must’ve picked up on the contents of the notification, yet his response was dismissive. He’d had plenty of opportunities to absorb light over the years and had bypassed them all, choosing to develop himself outside the System. But if he could save my life and keep my soul from being scarred, wouldn’t he be willing?
I sensed the Deer God continuing to eat at the talon pinning Amleila in place. The motion of his jaw stopped, though, as he grudgingly admitted that he would save my life if necessary, but there would be a cost. If he joined the World Spirit, then darklight would flow into him from the land and through our connection into me too. Except, I couldn’t absorb darklight—my soul marks prohibited it—which meant that I would essentially turn into a filtration system for him and his territory.
At the end my first Long Dark, I’d… dumped Yuki’s darklight out of my body, and that was bad enough. The prospect of trying to excrete a whole territory’s worth? I’d rather go back to the options to share with Yuki and Ikfael.
Which, as I was coming to expect, triggered the next notification.
> Option Identified: Selective Inclusion
>
> You’re a clever one, aren’t you? You can multiply and divide with the best of them, and if splitting two ways can save your life, then splitting between three should be even safer. And you’d avoid that pesky scarring too. There’s a cost to being greedy, though. The gods have their own agenda. The price of three is four. In other words, if you want the symbiote and the beloved to share in the silverlight, then you will have to integrate the Deer God too.
>
> What’s a little gastrointestinal distress between friends? It’s only once a year, so suck it up, Ollie.
Ollie? The World Spirit had called me Ollie; it used to be that only System-Eight did that. Just what is going on here?
The next notification didn’t address my question. Instead, it read:
> Option Identified: Accept Dissolution
>
> Choose to do nothing, and the choice will be made for you. Your talent vessel will attempt to absorb 325,144 silverlight and become overwhelmed. This is a surety. There is a small chance your soul will survive. If so, you would qualify for rebirth. If not, then the energies making up your soul will be returned to the source of all creation.
Like I’d ever—
A new notification appeared, seemingly from nowhere. This one, however, waited for me to click on it. Cautiously, as if it might sting, I did.
> A Helpful Hint
>
> To avoid scarification of the soul, do not reach two milestones in one go. The Path to Perfection is long for a reason. Take every step meaningfully and thoughtfully. Rushing only causes one to stumble. Walker, be mindful of the Path. Choose and choose wisely.
I held my breath, waiting for yet another notification to appear, but that seemed to be the last of them. A timer did pop up at the top right of the phone’s screen, though, counting down from… had I really spent that long reading through the notifications? I only had eighteen minutes left to decide what to do.
Tension wound through Ikfael’s body, but she tapped a paw on her chest to indicate the knife was in position. She turned her tablet so I could see the screen, and instead of my shoulder, it displayed a cross section of the jaguar’s body. Those bronze tubes ran all the way through her like I’d thought, including to her heart. The knife hovered, ready for a strike.
The problem was that an attack to the heart might not immediately kill Amleila. If she lasted even a handful of seconds afterward… our souls would likely die. A chilling thought.
It was wild that I was looking at two different ways by which I would no longer exist—not in this world or any other. Fortunately, one them didn’t require any thought in how to proceed. My choice among the options available to me through the God Touched soul mark was obvious. As soon as I’d seen it available, I’d known what to do. Why debate with myself?
Yuki, just to confirm, you don’t want to fuse, right?
‘No, we enjoy being ourselves and talking with the others too much.’
But you’ll take a share of the silverlight?
‘Of course! We also want to grow stronger.’
My belly tightened as I directed my next thought to the Deer God: What about you? Are you willing?
He paused his labors to consider me. Usually, I was able to pick up on what he was thinking, but not this time. It took him reaching out for me to feel his care for the land. The Deer God was an aspect of nature itself, and joining the World Spirit would constrain him to a single place and time.
His thoughts branched like his antlers. They spread out to pursue paths I couldn’t follow; my mind was simply too small. Then, much more gently than I would’ve expected, he nudged me back into my own head, and a moment later I received his acknowledgement—he would take a portion of the silverlight. I’d have to pay for it at the end of every Long Dark, but the pain would be bearable.
Having answered my question, the Deer God went back to work as if the decision he’d made was entirely inconsequential.
I checked my phone and realized that I’d been communing with the Deer God longer than I’d thought. Only twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds remained on the timer.
Up on the pedestal, Amleila quieted. The pain seemed to have lessened toward something tolerable. Also, my shoulder felt fine—drenched, but fine. Yuki and Ikfael had worked together to heal me while my mind was occupied elsewhere. Her water tablet was no longer in her paws, which were clenched with worry.
Ikfael released them to sign, “I sensed the World Spirit moving within me. Your soul, it’s in danger from an overabundance of silverlight. You’ve been studying the problem and the… solution, right?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, “there are a few remedies.”
“One of them is by us becoming beloved to each other,” Ikfael signed.
“Yes and no.” I held up a hand to keep her from interjecting. “Yes, that is an option, but with Yuki and the Deer God’s help, I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m sure we can split the silverlight between the three of us—”
> A Helpful Hint #2
>
> While not as emotionally satisfying, splitting the silverlight between the symbiote and the invalid talent vessel will eliminate the risk of soul dissolution and result in negligible scarification.
“Okay, yes, I—” I stopped talking for moment to get my head in order. That actually had been a helpful hint and well timed too. “As I was saying, between the three of us, my soul should be safe.”
“And you’d be safer still if the burden was spread to four,” Ikfael signed.
“Probably,” I replied.
Ikfael looked away. “Yet you don’t want to. Perhaps that is for the best. The cost—”
“I do,” I interrupted, “but not because my life is in danger. I don’t want that to be the reason either you or I choose to do this.”
Her jaw clenched. “To become beloved, we would each sacrifice something precious to us.”
“Is there anything more precious than my Ikfael?” I asked.
She turned to glare at me. “You and your sweet words. Will they matter when your Lightning Affinity is taken away? Or your Heart of the Storm? How about your Spirit Hunter or Talent Scout?”
My jaw dropped. “Is that—is that really possible?”
“It is! To balance what is gained.” Ikfael’s face turned downward, dejected. “I want it, but how can I do that to you? How can we bear to do that to each other?”
> A Helpful Hint #3
>
> What is more precious than love?
This really had been a most overwhelming series of events. Was the World Spirit really publishing an advice column now? Or… System-Eight, is that you?
But no notification popped up in reply. There was only Ikfael standing next to me.
“I’m mortal,” I said. “Even after I become silvered, I’ll still die.”
Ikfael nodded.
“And I want to travel with you,” I said. “We’ll have all sorts of adventures together. Our zasha will have to deal with your absence.”
She nodded again.
“Hells, are you listening?” I asked. “I’m trying to tell you: I don’t know how this is going to work, but I’m sure that together we can make things work. I’ve seen how Leilu and Moonlight are—neither regret becoming beloved to each other. Why do you think I would?”
“Because I’ve seen how you chase after the things you want. Imagine if the cost is your magic. What then?” Her body shook from how violently she was now signing. “How unhappy would you be? How much bitterness would build between us?”
“That…” I started, but the words petered out.
“To become beloved is to build a bridge between souls,” Ikfael signed. “The energy has to come from somewhere. The core elements of a person’s personality are preserved, but depending on the depth and breadth of their spirit, the process can cut deep.”
‘Can we share that burden?’ Yuki spoke up. ‘We’re willing.’
It doesn’t sound like it, friend. Our souls are our own, after all. If we fused maybe, but the cost then would be just as high.
Yuki acknowledged that with a turn of their qi. ‘What will you do? We estimate there are only about seven minutes left to decide.’
It was seven minutes and ten seconds according to my phone—not nearly enough time to be making a decision as important as this. Nor was it really the place to do it, with Amleila only a few steps away and that death crystal in the room with us.
Or maybe this was the appropriate place? Clearly Ikfael, Yuki, the Deer God, and I had been led to this moment. The ultimate decision was up to us, but there was at least one thumb on the scale. Probably more.
The question was: did I trust their intentions for me? Should I put my faith in Heleitia, for example? Or was it Diriktot, I should be thinking of? The gods give gifts with ten hands, and it wasn’t lost on me how several of the potential outcomes resulted in me filtering darklight for the world. Perhaps that was the first step in a larger plan? A pilot project, as it were.
Think smaller, I told myself. Focus on what you want, what you think, and what you feel.
Eight years ago, Ikfael had saved me from an assassin’s bolt to the heart. We’d not had an exchange at the time to deal with things like that, so she had ended up paying a terrible price for it. And she’d refused to tell me exactly how she’d done it either.
Over time, I’d suspected that she’d literally given of herself to keep me alive—an outpouring of energy that didn’t sound too dissimilar to the bridge she’d described earlier. Ever since then, I’d felt a connection to Ikfael. It was how I had been able to join her in the Gloominess of Forgotten Memories.
My suspicion was that the bridge between us was already partially formed. She’d pulled back from the process at some point because she didn’t want to hurt me. Likely she was also scared. We’d only known each other for a handful of months at that point in our relationship.
From the very first time I’d heard of the beloved, I’d wondered if that was something meant for Ikfael and me. It was only natural to think about it. Our life together would have to be platonic, but it wouldn’t preclude other relationships. For example, Moonlight had sired pups with Scout. The silver wolf lived fully as both beloved to Leilu and as part of an alpha pair leading his pack.
More importantly, I couldn’t imagine my life without Ikfael. As utilitarian as I could be, my priorities always-always-always centered on the personal, the meaningful, and the connected. I existed in community; I was best in community.
The thought of what I might lose in the process made me cringe. Of course it did! I’d worked damn hard for every gain in my Status, but I took comfort from the fairness of exchanges. The benefits should balance the costs, right?
The sight of Ikfael’s dejected face weighed heavily on me. She was right; I did chase after the things I wanted. And that sometimes meant choosing between them.
Magic was magic, and it would be miserable to lose the ability to use it. At the same time, I doubted that would happen. Maybe I couldn’t be sure of the intentions of higher beings, but I had faith in the depth of my own soul at least—in the richness of my lives in both this and my previous world.
And if losing my ability to do magic was the risk I’d have to take, then so be it. A hunter’s knife flashed in the dark. The blade, my decision, would show me the way.