“So what do we know?” Said Captain Smith.

About a dozen of us stood on a raised section at the stern of the cruise ship. It was still night, but we were all illuminated by an eerie, flickering light. In the distance a purple monolith of intense light reached up into the clouds disappearing into a vortex of black clouds that billowed outward and had been slowly expanding. I could feel the eldritch energy pouring out over everything around me, thicker and more wild than any I had encountered so far.

I gripped the railing as my head leaned out over the side of the ship. Heavy wind tugged at my jacket and swept through my hair as I peered into the distance. Beneath the vortex of black clouds, a thin violet mist spread out from the light and had crept slowly towards us, already covering half the distance.

“We’ve called back most of our outposts, and reinforcements have been sent out to support the bridge team,” said Pat. “All scavengers and scout teams have been recalled and the patrol along the wall has been doubled.”

“I don’t like the idea of calling back all of our eyes,” Tiller added. “We don’t know what is out there.”

“It’s too dangerous,” said pat. “We’ve had reports of increased monster aggression, and the bridge team has been under attack by a constant flood of low-level monsters. We believe they are fleeing. From what, is the question that terrifies me.”

“We could blow the bridge,” said a man with a British accent. He walked to the center of the crowd, pausing to look around making eye contact. He was a short middle-aged man, bald on top with a thick beard and an even thicker stomach.

“We get rid of the bridge and we move, get as far away as possible,” he continued.

“That is not a good idea,” said Catayla jumping into the conversation for the first time. “I need a team to go across with me. We make contact with the Peacekeepers, we find out what went wrong, and we retreat back to a safe staging area.”

“You still haven’t had any luck contacting your people?” Captain Smith asked.

“No,” she said slowly shaking her head. “My com disk should be able to contact any Peacekeepers on the planet, and can even receive messages from off-world. We’ve been completely cutoff.”

“Can’t we take the ship…” said a slender woman with brown hair.

“Think no one tried that?” Said the captain. “Something big is out there, it’ll smash us to pieces as soon as we leave the harbor. Seen it happen and it ain’t pretty.”

The crowd began arguing, most favoring that we destroy the bridge. Many were already calling for us to retreat and settle in a new area further to the west. I still planned to leave eventually as I needed to find Liv and Troy, but I wasn’t ready to give up on Charleston just yet.

“I’ll go,” I said. A few eyes turned towards me in surprise, but it didn’t take long before someone tried to argue.

“That’s brave, but hardly relevant,” said the British man with the thick beard. “Should we put our lives at risk while you galivant around on some merry chase? It’s suicide out there.”

“Shut up for a minute, Thurber,” said the captain. “Catayla, can you get through that fog? How many men would you need?”

“The fog will likely be dangerous for anyone without a high vitality and willpower. If it is concentrated eldritch energy, as I suspect, then it will corrupt both the mind and body. I’ll take six with me, no more, and they’ll have to be able to keep up.”

“I think I can protect us from the mist," I said. "But I’ll need help. I can manipulate eldritch energy to a small extent, but my range and control hasn’t progressed very far yet.”

“What kind of help?” asked the captain.

“A skill,” I said. “Tiller’s notes mentioned a skill that allows the user to augment the abilities of others. Song of something or other.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Song of the Triumphant, yeah,” Said Tiller. “No way she’s going with you, though.” Tiller crossed his arms while shaking his head.

“This ain’t no democracy, kid,” said Captain Smith. “I’ll decide if we go, and who’s going. Someone has a problem with it they can get my boot on the way out.”

“It’s Rachel Pickman,” said Tiller.

“As in Senator Pickman’s daughter?” asked Pat.

“His only child, apple of his eye,” confirmed Tiller.

“Well, shit,” said Pat. “I really don’t see that happening, Captain. Her dad’s a real jackass, thinks he’s still in charge. She’s not too much better, spoiled and sheltered her whole life. Not someone we can trust with a mission like this.”

No one tried to argue after that. We just stood waiting for the Captain to answer. For several seconds the only sound was the howling of the wind.

“Alright,” said Captain Smith. “I’ve made up my mind. We’re giving Catayla her team, Pat I want you to hand pick the best we’ve got. Combat types with experience, find those who’ve put points into willpower. Tiller?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tiller.

“Take three men and get Senator Pickman and his daughter.”

Tiller hesitated for a moment, but only briefly. “Yes, sir. I’ll get them immediately.”

***

“No, absolutely not.”

The senator could have been stock footage of a middle-aged business man. He had a strong chin with high cheekbones and jet-black hair that was suspiciously only gray in the temples. Somehow, he had managed to still be wearing a suit, perfectly pressed and tailored. He even had one of those tacky flag-pins that all politicians were mandated to wear. His only concession to the end of the world was going without a tie.

“I’m not arguing with you, Dad.”

Rachel Pickman had her father’s classical good looks, including his high cheekbones, blue eyes, and black hair. That was where the similarities stopped, however. Rather than a business suit, she wore ripped jeans and a black leather jacket with spiked studs and only one sleeve. Her hair was shaved on one side and long on top, pulled back into a tight ponytail with blue highlights.

“If I can help, I’m going to do my part. Isn’t that what you always taught me?”

“I’ve always supported your rebelliousness, to an extent, but this isn’t the same as getting a girlfriend and starting a punk band. This has real consequences. The life and death kind.”

“I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t…” The senator began to cry, and if his daughter's skill wasn’t so useful to me I would have ended it there.

“Enough,” said the captain. “I’m not going to force you to go, but you’re a grown woman and this is your choice. We’ve told you why we need you, and what we’re up against. Just give us a yes or a no. I’ve got shit to do and watching your old man blubber is making me queasy.”

“I’m coming,” she said.

The father and daughter continued to argue, but it was clear from the look on the man’s face that he knew he had lost. His rage eventually gave into pleading, until he finally surrendered with a visible slump. As the father and daughter hugged I wondered what my own family was doing. Would they approve of my actions, or fear for my life and beg me to stay?

To know that I’d have to find them which wasn’t going to happen if I hid behind walls while others did all the work. If I was going to do something, anything that mattered, I would need strength. If I’d learned anything from this shit-hole of a world it was this: No power comes without a price.

I needed a class, and it was time to stop putting it off. First, though I was going to find out what kind of roommate my dark companion was going to turn out to be. I couldn’t afford to pass up any kind of advantage if I was going to survive past tomorrow. If it was a liability I needed to know that, too.

I left the captain and his team to take care of the details. I already knew we were leaving in the morning as soon as the sun was up. It seemed silly to wait for the light when night was rendered meaningless by the perpetually violet light. Still, people needed rest and time to prepare.

I walked back to my small room, locking the door behind me. It was just as empty and gray as usual, but the floor had picked up a layer of dust and dirt that I hadn’t gotten around to cleaning. My small bed was folded back into the wall leaving me just enough room to stand in the middle of the room and reach my arms, my fingertips brushing the walls.

I leaned against the far wall and I called out my dark companion. Black smoke crackling with red energy began to swirl around the center of the room forming a small ball suspended an equal distance from the floor and ceiling.

The ball pulsed as it spoke, “Gus, my boy. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

I reached out with my Eldritch Manipulation and I squeezed the energy as strongly as I could. “You will never use that voice again. Do you understand?”

“Oh, perhaps this one then?” The voice was deep and scratchy, like a thousand nails on a blackboard, it reverberated through my skull shaking my teeth. My eyes watered, and I raised my hands to my face, wiping away a drop of blood.

“Gah,” I screamed as I reached out once more with my skill. The ball began to compress as I squeezed it as hard as I could. My muscles tensed, and I could feel my grip slipping but I refused to let go.

“Fine,” said a deep but otherwise normal voice. “You never did have a sense of humor. I’ve seen your whole life, you know? All your memories, your dreams, and I must say Gus is a dull boy.”

“You know what I want then?”

“Of course,” the sphere said. “But can you pay the price?”