A scalpel wide as Zoe’s vision hacked into the essence of the pink, fleshy wall. The flow of Skein, of blood pulsing a loop in time, severed — halved, again, and again, and again, diced into sections so small she couldn’t comprehend them. Atomized Skein, and without sound or ceremony, the looping trap evaporated.

The stairwell lurched and threw the three of them to their knees. No longer isolated in its pocket of space and time, the stairwell rocked and swayed with the motion of the terrible beast that carried the mirrored yacht as its sail.

Anton steadied himself and bent to pick up the Everywhere Lens.

“Damn, that was — what are you doing?”

Zoe scrambled toward the essence bleeding wall. The flesh, the physical material, was untouched by her technique [Mind’s Eye Incision], for it was the essence she sliced, and it was the essence that bled. Skein oozed like spaghetti from a can: Lightning and Blood and Mirror. How had this combination worked together to create the trap? She didn’t know, but if she got the essence, if she harvested this power, maybe she would know. Maybe she could recreate it.

She reached for the essence on hands and knees, but it slipped through her fingers like a dream. Sublimation, leaving the trap of the great beast and becoming one with the universe.

“No!” Zoe hissed.

Was this her hunger talking? Or herself? The voice of scarred lips sounded so familiar… did she care anymore?

[Mind’s Eye Incision]

She formed a glove of shimmering Metal essence and scooped up the essence. If she could hold it, she could attach it, somehow. She summoned a needle and thread, not caring how low her Skein was getting, for she held Skein in her hand. If she could perfect this technique, unlimited power would be hers.

But the essence in her hand, a crackling of Lightning, dripping Blood, refused to work for her. The needle slipped through as though it were jelly. The essence dissipated, and the wound in the wall closed. She reached for her scalpel, but the boat rocked again. Hard.

She tumbled down a couple stairs, and the scalpel flew from her hand. It jangled as it bounced down one stair, two, and twinkled in the darkness as it vanished.

Her hunger railed, but Zoe only sighed. She needed a method of harvesting essence in order to stitch it to herself. It seemed outside her dreams, things were more complicated.

Such was the way of things.

“Are you done?” sarcasm dripped from Anton’s voice.

Bella helped Zoe up.

“Want to explain what you’re doing?”

Were they teaming up against her? Trying to take what was hers? Zoe shook her head. That was the hunger talking, and she would not allow it to dictate her actions. Not when she could fight it.

But how long could she fight it? People only became weaker as their hunger grew…

She fought the laugh gnawing at her lips — gnawing at her soul — and grinned at her friends.

“My new technique, I can slice and stitch essence. If I can harvest some, like from this great swimming beast of the stuff, then I should be able to increase my power. I can probably stitch essence onto you two. We can all grow by leaps and bounds. Our levels won’t contain us. We won’t be in danger.”

Bella and Anton exchanged a brief look.

“Was this… your first experiment?” Bella asked.

“Yes, I need to figure out a way to contain the essence. It’s harder when I’m not in a dream state.”

“You think experimenting on yourself straight away is smart?”

Bella’s question sunk in. Zoe hung her head — partly in shame and partly to hide her hunger’s twitching smile.

“When you put it like that? No. I feel a fool. It’s hard, with the curse driving me.”

Bella shook her by the shoulders.

“I know. I have this sword. If I don’t wet it with blood every day, I’ll lose attributes. What do you think that will look like if I become a pacifist? What does zero attributes mean in this world? Nobody’s explained anything to us. We have to fight and figure things out as we go, but we can’t take unnecessary risks. We can't!”

“I… I…”

Bella seized Zoe in a hug. Tight. Bone crushing. If she were mortal, it would have killed her. Maybe that was the point? Kill the mortal fear, the mortal doubt, the mortal reckless desire to grab at anything to get ahead… Zoe felt tears burn in her eyes as she returned the embrace. Grief, pressure, welled up inside her as the staircase rocked and swayed.

Anton coughed.

“We have to move.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Bella detached herself, gave Zoe a curt nod, and readied her sword.

“Let’s go.”

With her sword and spear at the ready, Bella advanced down the stairs. Anton’s silver eyes glowed above her as he followed. Zoe brought up the rear, the darkness closing in behind her.

###

It was a brief journey to the bottom of the stairs. The whole spiraling staircase — without the looping trap — couldn’t have been over four stories. A lot, since they were walking inside a living creature, but not so much that it presented any real trouble.

The stairs bottomed out in a dim cabin that stank like a freshly opened wound.

Large and opulent, once upon a time, before a cruel mind sandwiched it into this living avatar of flesh and rage. A bed piled with silken cushions sat squished between two quivering sacks of flesh that filled and deflated with fluid. The ceiling shook with a constant thudding heartbeat that sent the chandelier swinging. Bright crystal light swayed and flooded the room, casting light upon the wet walls and sodden carpet. A humped mass of veins and teeth protruded from the far wall. It grew, slowly, like a tumor, or a parasitic twin, and had knocked the bookshelves from the wall and sent the ancient papers across the gunk-covered carpet.

Hair sprouted from the mass, and an eye the size of a watermelon swiveled to look at them as they entered the room. Knowledge, awful, pained knowledge wracked the bloodshot gaze, and Zoe stared back.

“We have to come here,” she said. “This dungeon made us come here just as it made you.”

What choice did any of them have?

The eye winked — a trembling, half-lidded gesture — and continued to stare as they walked across the squishing carpet to the cushion-covered couch.

A skeleton sat on the couch. Grey tattered robes upon its broad-shouldered bones. Dry husks of mirrored crabs lay at its feet like constructions of dry paper. In bony fingers, pressed to ivory ribs, the skeleton clutched an ornate box of scarlet wood.

Familiar hate flickered over Zoe as she walked toward the skeleton.

“I think it’s Zazzatha.”

She wanted to smash the skull, to snatch the box, but this could only be a trap.

“Anton? Can you examine this?”

“Already on it.”

His eyes swooped around the skeleton and the room before they returned to float around him like orbiting sentries.

“Threads of Skein connect the skeleton to the box and to something that runs out of this room and out of my sight.”

“Can you tell what the purpose is?”

“If I had to guess? It’s a trap, yes, I know, obviously, but I think if we grab the box it will alert a hidden puppeteer who will activate the skeleton.”

Bella stared at the eye in the wall.

“Is this poor ugly bastard the puppeteer?”

The eye winked rapidly. Teeth quivered in the pink gummy flesh.

Anton shrugged.

“It’s not connected to any Skein in this room. It doesn’t seem… intended, as though it is a tumorous growth and not a part of any trap.”

Zoe looked at the eye, and the eye looked back at her.

“Wink if you have anything to tell us.”

The eye stared at her, and she stared back, before shrugging and turning her attention to the box.

“We can probably fight the skeleton but we know it won’t give any death energy. There are gains to be made by meditating after the fight, but it’s probably better to just run than waste the energy. Do we agree on this?”

Anton and Bella nodded.

“So, grab the box and run for the stairs?” Zoe suggested.

Bella hefted the sword like a baseball bat.

“I could kneecap him first?”

“Touching the skeleton will trigger the trap,” he shook his head and his silver eyes bobbed in their orbit. “There are multiple fail-safes. I don’t know which ones to cut, or even if cutting would work. It looks like there’s a battery or a reservoir of Skein inside the skeleton. Cutting might activate it autonomously, and who knows how long until it runs out.”

“You can see a lot, huh?”

“I’m cheating,” he tapped the python bracelet around his arm. “Figured this would be a good a way as any to teach me what I’m looking at,” he glanced at Bella. “You shouldn’t have thrown yours away.”

“I did what I did. So, what’s the plan then?”

Zoe leaned as close as she dared.

“Grab the box, run, but it’s locked. Key?”

Anton shrugged.

“Can’t detect it, can’t see it, unless…”

He placed the Everywhere Lens upon his eye. The room flashed blinding silver, and the light faded, leaving spots in Zoe’s vision as she stumbled on the wet carpet.

“Damn, Anton, a warning next time, please?”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “I’ve been waiting to try that. The key is in there.”

Zoe followed his pointing finger to the bloodshot eye in the wall. She sighed, of course, that’s where the key would be.

“And you said there are no traps connected?”

“Nope.”

Zoe sighed again.

“Just our consciences, I suppose. Bella, I hate to ask, but could you cut with your sword? Maybe you can cauterize the wound as you go.”

Bella grimaced but nodded. She didn’t look at the eye as heat rippled out from her blade.

“Where exactly is the key?”

Anton poked the fleshy mass. It twitched, veins bulging. It winked furiously, but nothing more happened. There was a slight indent where his finger had pushed that swelled out as he moved his hand away.

Bella thrust and cut. Her weight in every quick movement as she worked into the flesh. She removed the blade, reached inside, grasped the key, and pulled out. Slimy viscera gloved her hand, and she shook it free with disgust. The eye rolled with pain as smoke rose from the wound.

Zoe took the key as Bella wiped her hands on a tapestry hanging from the wall. It was heavy, iron, and old-fashioned. It would fit the box perfectly.

“I’ll insert the key into the box,” she said as she approached the couch. “When it opens, I’ll grab the fragment and we run up the stairs, sounds like a plan?”

The others nodded, tense, alert, and ready to move.

Zoe rubbed sweat from her palms, and let the Mirror skin of [Self Reflects the World] coat her for good measure. She placed the key inside the box and turned. The tumbler was smooth. The box sprung open. Inside, on a bed of pink silk, sat a dull metal fragment. The bones creaked, and Zoe reached for the treasure, but the world turned black with a screech of alien power.

She fell — screaming hoarse until she tasted blood — she died in every cell as the world tore itself apart in nightmare fury. The bottom of a river raging dark and cold. Turning, wild as a cornered animal, desperate as a lost child, she beseeched god for salvation and heard only the mocking, snorting derision of Rue, as he reared up from the black horizon with blades dripping from his fists.