Ammonia.

Why did the whole world smell like ammonia?

“Because you pissed yourself,” Alex heard himself tell himself matter-of-factly, “and you’d been holding it forever.”

“What?”

There was another voice, this one not in his head. A woman’s. It was familiar. He couldn’t exactly place it. He couldn’t exactly make out the words, either. Was he underwater? Was she underwater? It sure sounded like there was water involved. Whatever she was trying to tell him, it was urgent; that much he understood. He strained himself to listen, to understand, and–

“Wake up, dumbass.”

He did wake up. He was back in the Happy Motel, back in his cell, back in his bed. He had pissed himself and the whole world felt like someone had placed his head in one of those huge bells they had in cathedrals, and then proceeded to ring it with a sledgehammer. Someone grabbed his head and shoved a glass of water in his mouth.

“Sip. Slowly.”

He sipped. It was good. He was parched.

“I swear to god, Rulin,” Officer Carpenter said, “if you somehow manage to kick the bucket on my watch, I’ll have the doctor let me fill the death certificate myself. Cause of death: dumb. Time of death: my fucking lunchtime. Why? Because fuck Penny and her egg salad sandwich, that’s why.”

“What happened?”

“That’s my line. One moment I’m chilling in my office, eating my lunch, the next I get a red alert saying your vitals are going haywire.”

“My vitals?”

“Casque’s tracking them while you’re plugged in.”

Carpenter helped him sit up, then gave him a saltine to munch on.

“I died again,” he said between bites. “In Elderpyre, I mean.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Of course you did. I’m not even surprised at this point.” She placed her hand on his forehead to get his temperature, then handed him a carton of orange juice and a box of more saltines. “Drink the juice and eat the crackers, they’ll help with your blood pressure. Doc’s on his way, should be here any minute. I have to go. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Uh… can I go back in?” he asked, eyeing the casque Carpenter had unceremoniously dumped on the floor next to his bed. His was feeling like crap, but it burned him to know whether his gambit had paid off, whether Fawkes and Fyodor and the Brethren were alright.

“No!” Carpenter spat and turned around to throw him a look of pure exasperation. “Dumbass!”

She was right, of course, but it wasn’t like she could stop him. Besides, he wasn’t about to jump back into the fray or anything. He’d just pop in, make sure things were alright, then pop out again. How long had he been out, anyway? Fuck if he knew. Not long, he hoped. He grabbed the casque, put it over his head, and pressed the button.

Seconds later, Hunter was back in the old-timey bar that was his Shard. Seconds later than that, he was already crossing the threshold back to the main world of Elderpyre. He didn’t even stop to say hi to Mortimer. He popped in at the last Place of Power he’d binded his essence to, just outside the great runed doors that led to the Inner Sanctum. They were shut.

<Élan> Once again, you’ve perished. Once again, you return. Once again, it takes its toll. Your Élan quality is now 7.

There was a ton of unread system notifications–they did have the tendency to pile up at the worst possible moments, after all–but Hunter couldn’t spare a single second. One, however, caught his eye.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

It was the only one that mattered. That, and whether his companions were alright.

The darkness around him was absolute. Even with his Low-Light Vision, he could barely make out the outline of the hall. Should he wait? Should he open the doors? Should he go back to the chapel beyond, see the outcome of the struggle for himself?

“Outlander?” he heard a woman’s voice whisper somewhere in the dark.

Sister Peregrine. He turned around and saw the outline of her head peek around the corner of an intersection that led away from the Inner Sanctum.

Good–so they’d made it out. Hunter let out a sigh of relief.

“Sister! Are you alright?” he whispered back. “Where are the others?”

“Shhhh!" she hushed him. “Come!”

He followed her to the same vault he’d found her and the rest of his companions the last time he’d thrown himself under the bus to try and buy time for them. Not even a day had passed since then. Hell, his whole time in Elderpyre was just a few days. It was bizarre. Somehow it felt like it had been longer. Impossibly longer.

They were all there, miraculously more or less in one piece. Fyodor rushed out to meet him the moment Sister touched the vault’s outer wall and made it vanish. The direwolf rammed him, then proceeded to lick his face and yelp like a puppy. His breath smelled awful, but for once, Hunter didn’t mind.

Brother Aurochs waved at him from inside the torchlit vault. Hunter waved back. Both he and Sister Peregrine sported a few bruises and cuts, but nothing too serious-looking. Fawkes, on the other hand…

Hunter wouldn’t have recognized the blanket-covered, pitifully small silhouette that lay in a corner, hadn’t it been for a stray strand of silver hair. His heart swam, and he felt like he was going to be violently sick. He pushed the direwolf aside, pulled himself to his feet, and rushed to her side.

Sister Peregrine put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“She’s not hurt,” she told him. “Just very sad and very tired. Do not disturb her. Let her sleep.”

Hunter looked over at Brother Aurochs, and he nodded, too. Sister was right, probably. It wasn’t as if he could do anything to help, anyway, though it was all he could do not to rush to her side and shake her awake, see for himself she was alive and well.

“And, uh… you? You two?”

“We’ll make do.”

Hunter wasn’t exactly persuaded, but let it go. She was wounded and bruised and walked funny, but she didn’t have that haunted look about her anymore. That had to count for something.

“What happened back there? When I, you know…”

Sister shrugged.

“One moment we were fighting. The next, that… that thing. Those killing lights. We ducked away. We saw you fight. We saw the crimson take you both. We stuck to the plan. We skedaddled.”

“It’s dead,” Hunter said. “The thing.”

“There’s no more whispering. I would say yes.”

Sister Peregrine put her hand on his shoulder again, found his eyes with hers. It was an awkward gesture, but a welcome one anyway.

“I would say thank you, too. For what you did there.”

“It was nothing.”

“Do not say it was nothing. It was a brave thing, and you did it even though you did not have to. For that, I say thank you.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“One more thing,” Sister said. “Do not do such a thing again. It may not kill you, outlander, but it will kill her.”

***

His companions would stay in that vault for a while to lick their wounds, and Hunter figured he’d better do the same with his. He logged out, had a much-needed cold shower, put on a fresh change of clothes, and changed his yellow-stained sheets.

The doctor that came to check on him was a plain-looking man in his forties. Alex had been worried that he wouldn’t be able to explain his situation to him, but he didn’t have to. The man seemed to know all about Elderpyre, virtual deaths, and the surprisingly taxing, very real effects they had on the human mind and body.

He told him to get plenty of rest and try to avoid stressful situations for a while, prescribed him a cubic fuckton of vitamins and supplements, and gave him an earful for being so careless.

“See, doc?” Officer Carpenter told the man, smirking. “Just as I told you. Dumb as a bag of hammers.”

“Good thing he’s just as hardy, too,” the doctor said. “That was your third death, correct?”

“Third, yes.”

“Good grief. No wonder you pissed yourself and went out cold.”

“I see the good Officer didn’t skimp on the details,” Hunter said, turning red.

“He’s a doctor, Rulin,” she flashed him a nasty smile. “I’m just doing my duty. You should thank me, if anything.”

“Don’t let the craggy exterior fool you,” the doctor said matter-of-factly as he was packing up his bag. “Under all that vinegar, Penny’s just a good old softie.”

“Go to hell, Cade.”

“Can’t. Too busy patching you people up.”

Looking at Carpenter and the doctor talk smack, Alex wondered for what must have been the millionth time what was this thing he’d gotten himself caught up in. Grimm, private prisons, too-good-to-be-true virtual reality, sketchy staff… With everything that had been going on inside Elderpyre these last few days, he’d barely had the chance to give any real thought to what was going on one the outside.

Well, that would have to wait a bit more. His mind was elsewhere, and he was tired.

Dead tired.

By the time Carpenter and the doc left his cell, Alex was already half asleep. What day was it? When was the last time he’d gotten any proper rest? He had lost track of it all. He closed the window blinds, turned off the lights, and went to sleep for what he expected to be a moderately-sized ice age.