From a distance, the storm wall had appeared to be a defined threshold. The truth was something messier, more of a tattered portal, reaching out with grasping fingers.

Creeping mists that grew thicker with every step. Lightning that cast the World as its negative. Between every spell of flashing blindness, their churning surroundings were further warped.

They’d been swallowed before they even knew they’d entered the maw.

“Rrraaiinnn,” Gwil sang in the deepest voice he could muster.

“It’s always raining in the… Stormlands,” Leira answered, her voice airy and shimmering.

“Rrraaiinnn.”

“It’s always raining in the… Stormlands.”

“Shut. Up,” Cort said. “How have you not come up with any other lyrics in three whole hours?”

“Nothing else is happening,” Leira said.

Night had fallen, but the lightning that ceaselessly crinkled across the sky provided ample light.

Twenty meters ahead, the World tore in half as a screaming green bolt struck a mound of rock. Molten bits exploded from a puff of flame and smoke. That terrible expression of power vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only a smoldering crater as proof.

“I sure hope that doesn’t happen to your head,” Leira said.

“Eh? Oh, shit!” Cort ripped his great hammer out of his harness and hastily tossed it away. The impact of its metal head left a divot in the bedrock. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

She pointed to where the lightning had struck. “That made me think of it.”

Cort took Gwil’s cut-up shirt and pants from his bag and dressed the hammer so that all the metal was covered.

They pressed forward in the direction that they hoped was north. Something about the Stormlands had made their compass go wonky, sending the needle spinning out of control. About an hour ago, they’d been passed by a procession of fast-moving flickering lights, some three kilometers distant. A caravan, Leira had guessed. They’d been trying to keep themselves pointed in that direction.

They could see nothing save eroded stone and swirling fog, so it was difficult to maintain a heading. According to what Buzzard had told Leira, there was no ‘wrong way’, as the narrow Stormlands were bordered by the sea on both sides. As long as they didn’t get completely turned around, they’d reach the other side eventually.

The depressed expanse of bedrock was riven with cracks and craters. The constant rain caused perpetual flooding. Rushing streams of water ran through the crevices like little rivers.

They walked through clouds but saw no sky. Fog hung as thick as steam in a sauna. The air itself was warm, charged, but the moisture possessed a prickly chill.

Whenever the erratic crackling surged into a proper bolt, the entire blanket of clouds illuminated with vibrant green light. The thunder remained at bay, rumbling low, a snoozing beast.

“Cort, will you carry my bag?” Leira said.

“Why?”

She sighed. “I just don’t want to.”

“Then no. I already have the jetpack, the fridge, and my hammer.”

Leira clasped her hands. “But you’re so big and strong.”

“It’s not about the weight. It’s the principle.”

“Gwil?” she asked.

Gwil ignored her. He’d drifted a short distance away from them and was prowling the ground in a crouch. Concealing his presence with Nyx made him feel extra stealthy.

“Crab!” Gwil yelled.

A small green crab had emerged from a crack in the rock. At the sound of Gwil’s shout, the critter scuttled with a noticeable increase of vigor.

Gwil bounded after it, then, pop. He shrank mid-stride, flying forward to land right on the little creature’s back.

The crab either didn’t notice or didn’t care. It just continued on its way.

“Hey, turn around,” Gwil squeaked at it. He knelt and bent his head over the front of the crab to regard its wide, vacant face.

Gwil lay flat on his stomach and stuck his arms out ahead of the crab. He reached for the little clumps of scrubby grass that sprouted between the cracks.

He caught a stalk and ripped it free. Its length was three times his own height. Gwil adjusted himself and worked on tying the grass around one of the crab’s frontmost legs.

Gwil batted away a claw as the crab tried to pinch him. “Stop that. You’ll be like a horse. That’s pretty good for a crab.” He tied the other leg, then sat down with his reins in hand.

He steered the crab around to look for Cort and Leira but found that they were right behind him. The crab’s tiny legs had not carried him far at all.

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“Cool, huh?” Gwil said. “I told you this was useful, Cort.”

“I’ve never seen it before, that’s for sure,” Cort said as he aimed a slow kick at the crab.

Gwil deftly maneuvered out of the way.

“Hey, Gwil,” Leira said. “Have you considered how you’re also able to make your clothes shrink?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t think about that at all!”

“Right? The only explanation is that you have the ability to shrink other objects, too.”

“Ooh! Maybe I could make this crab a giant.”

“Maybe,” Cort said. “Or maybe whatever the hell god makes Hallows and Nirva just thought it’d be fucking stupid if you wound up naked every time you used your powers.”

“Why would a god care about something so paltry?” Leira said.

“Hold on,” Gwil said. “Wait. Ahh! Phew, I was about to become big. I would’ve smushed my crab. But yeah, I have no idea how to do that.”

The pool of shrinky syrup felt like it was very much a part of him, something stuck on the inside. Nevertheless, he was wearing miniaturized clothing.

“Hmm, oh!” Leira said. “Gwil, do you have anything in your pocket?”

He patted at his legs, then turned out his pockets. Empty. The crab sensed that he no longer held the reins and tried to buck him off. Gwil snatched them back and grinned. “Bad horse.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “You’ll have to test it, though. And maybe holding stuff in your hands, too.”

“You’re not giving my theory enough credence,” Cort grumbled.

“The prison clothes didn’t have pockets,” Gwil said. “So, I don’t think I ever tried that.”

Gravel skittered as Cort halted. He threw his arm out in front of Leira, then adjusted his foot to block the crab as Gwil made to go between his legs.

“Something’s out there,” he whispered.

Gwil jumped off the crab, seized upon the bit of concern caused by Cort’s words, and used that to grow back to normal size. He scooped the crab up and put it in his shirt pocket.

Ahead, a distinct silhouette within the fog. Something big and spiky and beastly.

Leira squinted and tilted her head. “Is it sleeping?”

Cort put a finger to his lips and then crept forward.

“Don’t shush me,” Leira hissed.

“Oh yeah,” Gwil said. “I can…” He used Mir, and the silhouette was filled in by faded gray emptiness. Yalda’blood seeped out the edges. “Ha! Stop sneaking, Cort. That thing is dead.”

They approached the hulking corpse. Claws, legs, and antennae clarified.

“Why’s it smell so tasty, though?” Leira said. “Oh, yes!”

An enormous lobster, as big as a whole school of squid-sharks if you bundled them all together. The thing lay on its back with its legs curled in on its underside like a dead bug. It had been burnt well past a crisp. The entire shell was blackened and dull as ash.

“Struck by lightning,” Cort said. “Unlucky.”

“Lucky for us!” Leira squealed, skipping as she moved closer. “Smash that tail open, Cort. Lobster is one of my favorite foods in the whole World.”

“We gotta make sure it’s still edi-”

“Stuff the lecture, Doctor Cortemius,” she said. “Smash it.”

Gwil took the crab out of his pocket. The critter seemed desperate to be free. He let it crawl around in his cupped hands.

Cort went up to the scorched carcass and knocked on the carapace. The sound produced did not possess even a hint of hollowness. The shell sounded as solid as stone.

Cort grinned. “Good thing I’ve got the perfect tool.”

He undressed his hammer, raised the massive hunk of iron over his head, and slammed it down.

With a brutal crack, the shell crumpled. The three of them were showered with bits and juices.

“Eee!” Leira said, trying to tongue a fleck that had landed on her cheek.

Cort chiseled away pieces of broken shell to reveal a tremendous bounty of seared flesh, blackened and browned.

Gwil’s mouth watered at the smell.

“I’m gonna faint,” Leira moaned. Arms outstretched, she approached the feast.

Cort shifted to block her, peeled off a small sliver of meat, and popped it into his mouth. “Mm, it’s good.”

He gripped an edge of the cracked carapace and wrenched at it like he was ripping open a jammed door. A man-sized gash split through the tail.

Cort let Leira through. She plunged her hands into the lobster flesh, much like a child might jump into a pile of fresh snow.

***

The three of them lay on their backs in a circle, stomachs stuffed to their limits. Shreds of lobster meat and empty tubes of ztuff littered the ground.

They’d talked a big game when they started eating, but they hadn’t even made a dent. So much meat. They’d eaten so much meat, yet so much meat remained. The lobster could’ve fed an entire village for a week.

Cort belched. “The smell is making me feel sick now. Hey! We’re supposed to be hurrying through here.”

Leira burped even louder and then popped up. “We should hang around until we can eat more, then go. Unless we wanna drag the lobster with us?”

“We can put some in the fridge,” Cort said.

“Not enough.”

“We don’t need to rush,” Gwil said. “It’s just some bad weather.” He had his eyes closed. His crab crawled around on his chest, its little legs poking at his ribs.

“Jayson made it sound worse than that,” Cort muttered.

“Fifteen minutes will hardly make a difference,” Leira said. “I dunno about you wimps, but I’ll be ready for more by then. Wait.” She picked up an egg-sized rock and tossed it at Gwil. “Put that in your pocket and shrink.”

Gwil set the crab down and stood up, clutching his stomach. “I think that might make me explode, but alright.”

He slid the rock into his pocket and then let himself fall into the syrup.

Some force yanked him upward, then came the sound of torn fabric. He tumbled onto the rocky ground.

“Bahaha!” Leira and Cort cackled.

The rock, now huge, blocked Gwil’s view. His entire pant leg had been ripped in half. Gwil moved around the rock as he stood up. “Dammit. Lemme try again.” Pop.

Cort crawled over and picked up the rock. He handed it to Gwil and said, “Try holding it in your hand this time.”

Gwil squeezed the rock tight and closed his eyes. He just had to keep it with him… Pop.

He dove out of the way as the rock crashed down on the place where he’d been standing. “Gah! This is tricky!”

“Hm. You were getting much smaller when you shrank in Podexia,” Leira said.

“Check your pocket,” Cort said, pointing and wearing a grin.

Gwil reached into his not-ripped pocket and felt something… He pulled it out—a tiny tube of ztuff. “Ooh!”

“Nice one, Cort,” Leira said. “That’s fascinating. Turn big again, Gwil.”

Gwil replaced the tube of ztuff in his pocket. He grew back—his excitement made it easy.

He reached into his pocket and found that he had to dig. “Shit.” Gwil held out the still-miniaturized tube of ketchup, about the size of a kernel of corn. “Ah! That’s still really cool, though!”

“It is,” Leira said. “Hmm… That might imply that if you think too hard about it, you’ll shrink without your clothes.”

“That’s okay,” Gwil said. “I don’t think too hard.”

“That proves you can shrink other things, though,” Cort said. “It’s not some… divine convenience just for clothing.”

Gwil ran his fingers back through his hair. “How am I gonna remember all this stuff I’m supposed to figure out?”

“Gimme the little tube,” Leira said. “I’m gonna make a necklace out of it. For emergencies. I also wonder if it might return to its normal size sometime. Maybe even if you went too far away. We’ll have to see.”

“That trick I did might not work again,” Cort said. “Maybe now you’re subconsciously aware of it. I’m also curious about putting something small in your pocket while you’re already shrunk. Would it grow with you?”

“Right,” Leira said. “Also, what would happen if we snuck this already shrunk tube of ztuff into his pocket and then he shrank a second time? Maybe the shrinking only occurs if the object will cause some sort of interference.”

“You guys’re making my head spin,” Gwil said.