“So, that’s your Invoke?” Cort said. “You can shrink. Sometimes. Not that useful, is it?”

Gwil shrugged. “It worked out. I can make it better. It’s just hard to get used to, y’know?”

Cort chuckled. “I bet. There’s a reason bugs don’t rule the World even though there’s like trillions of them, probably.”

“I think it’s billion, actually,” Gwil said.

They’d moved their camp to a crumbled wall beside the hole in which they’d buried Leira. It was after midnight, and an especially bloody moon gleamed, washing everything with crimson.

Warm, thick wind fluttered without surcease, mingling with the cool dampness of the ground.

Green lightning crackled across the entirety of the churning northern horizon. The jagged bolts etched the immense storm wall with a pattern like shattered glass. Terrible thunder growled within the storm, but the persistent rumbling was muffled. Both the lightning and the thunder seemed confined by the storm wall.

“Back in the mines, you must’ve shrunk and squeezed into the tank,” Cort said.

“Ahh, yeah! Probably,” Gwil said.

“The fuck do you mean, ‘probably’? There’s no other way.”

They should’ve been exhausted, but something had them wired. Perhaps that Leira slept beside them, buried alive in a grave. Anticipation hung thick in the charged air.

“Cort, you’re just a normal person, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm,” Gwil said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “I mean, I see that you’re all muscly and stuff—my shirt really shows it off.” He gave him a thumbs up. “But that hammer is very heavy.”

Cort shrugged. “I’m good with weapons. My family, my tribe, all our ancestors, going all the way back to the Apocalypse. We’re warriors.”

“Good.” Gwil chewed his lip while scratching at the soft mud with a stick. “Isca told me the whole World is sick. It made me think that what we did in Podexia didn’t make much difference.”

Cort grunted. “That’s probably true. But it made a hell of a difference for all those prisoners. The little things matter. And they add up.”

“It’s shitty, though. I can’t stand that. I’ll fight against people like that forever if I have to. You should, too.”

He looked at Gwil and then nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

Eventually, they fell into restless sleep.

***

Restless, but refreshing enough. As soon as he awakened, Gwil crawled over to the loose patch of earth that covered Leira. Little wildflowers had sprouted, but that was the only sign of strangeness.

“I wanna check on her,” Gwil told Cort.

“No way, man. She explicitly told us not to disturb her unless there’s a catastrophic emergency.”

It was just after dawn, yet there was no morning chill to the air. Branches creaked and cracked, and the foliage swished, buffeted by the warm wind. Cort had been made to fashion a little wall around their firepit.

Gwil’s hair whipped across his face as he watched Cort examine his feet. They were still bumpy and discolored, but the swelling had gone down.

“Fuckin’ centipedes,” Cort spat as he put on his socks. “Leira was right, though. They don’t hurt too bad anymore.”

After Cort—with a small amount of wincing—got his boots on, they munched on some leftover turkey scraps.

“Turkeys lay eggs, don’t they?” Gwil asked.

Cort jumped to his feet. “Let’s go.”

***

Alive again, the flower danced as Leira slumbered.

“Hello, princess. I miss you. You’re such a treasure. Won’t you come back into the fold?”

Leira writhed beneath the soil. Anesidyra.

“Did you find people who love you? I hope they love you. Will you use them and abuse them and leave them for dead, just like all the others?” Her shrill laughter raked through Leira’s mind like claws. “That is who you are, my sweet.

“You’ll abandon them. You always do. Joy, companionship—the mundane pleasures of mortals? Not for you, little flower. Never for you.

“You and I are divine. They are insects. In their hearts, lesser beings desire only to serve their superiors. It gives them purpose. They are the dirt beneath our feet, and they salivate at the thought of a heel pressing down upon their throats.

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

“You cannot hide forever, princess. I will find you. If you care at all for their lives, you will leave them. You know well how… unpleasant I can be. Return to me. I await with open arms.”

***

East of Mikara, across the Pacificum Sea, there is an isolated island continent. Blessedly, it has been forgotten by the wider World and left unmarred. Those who remember call it Eami, the Land Without Evil.

The landmass is shaped like a pair of vigorous lungs and is veined by thousands of rivers. Excised by the goddess herself, Eami is a precious sliver of Gaia. In her sanctuary, she will not abide humanity’s presence.

She thrives there. Her flesh is lush and vibrant. Pure. Speckles of golden sunlight fall through the canopy to grace the earth with countless little kisses. The rains are a never-ending gift. Every drop births a tiny miracle.

Harmony. The land, the water, the fauna, the wildlife—all are as one. They flourish and falter as the rivers flow.

But Eami is of the World, so there is violence and devastation. Predators that devour; floods that lay waste. Even in paradise, certain cruelties must be accepted.

It goes on.

Upheaval. In a pocket of the sprawling jungle, the land erupts. Animals flee—screeching monkeys, roaring jaguars.

Gaia makes a sacrifice. Trees that stood for thousands of years—that survived the Apocalypse—splinter as a long-buried child emerges.

This child is called Grizelda. Her enormous body and her six massive legs are formed of bedrock, mud, gnarled roots, and scaly flesh.

The hulking, tortoise-like creature draws itself upright as the earth caves in beneath her feet. She shakes the ages from the forest that grows atop her back.

Grizelda blinks the dirt from her weary, sky-blue eyes and opens her reptilian mouth to loose a crooning cry. An age has passed since last she sang her lovely song.

The ground shakes as Grizelda charges forward, plowing through the ancient jungle, making for the sea.

Gaia, Goddess of the Earth, cannot help but have mercy for the children of her dead lover.

***

“Cort! This peanut butter is over two hundred years old!”

Gwil tossed him the glass jar.

Cort looked at the faded red label, which depicted a peanut doing a handstand. He wrenched the lid off and wrinkled his nose at the rancid stench.

Cort turned the jar upside down, gave it a shake. The dry, crumbled contents spilled out. It looked—and smelled—like dog food.

“You shouldn’t eat—ugh! Why?”

Gwil was dumping the contents of the jar into his mouth like he was drinking from a glass.

“It tastes like shit,” Gwil said as he chewed the hard, sticky bits, seemingly unbothered. “But it gets better once your spit softens it up.”

“Not my spit,” Cort mumbled.

They stood in some sort of ancient general store. Everything inside had suffered flood damage, and the place reeked of mold. The flooring and the walls had the consistency of wet cardboard. A tree had fallen through the roof, crushing the back half of the store.

Heaps of various goods were strewn throughout the space. Most of it had deteriorated into amorphous clumps. There was clothing that had decayed into ribbons, burst batteries that spewed dry acid, and a bunch of rusty tools. A rainbow of spilt chemicals painted the floor.

Cort and Gwil were most interested in the food, but they were coming up dry. Nothing looked any better than the peanut butter. Except for the bottle of vodka Cort had found in a cabinet. That had to be good still.

The bottles of water had gone white and cloudy, and most of the canned goods had rusted open—not that Cort would’ve trusted them anyway. The latest date he’d seen was year 704.

“Oo! Cort!” Gwil yelled. “Look at this.”

He held up a bright red squeeze tube. The label, which had not faded at all, read, ‘Zippy’s Zooper Zesty Ztuff!’. It had a picture of a chili pepper wearing sunglasses and wielding dual machine guns. Below the mascot it said, ‘Exxxtra HOT!’.

Gwil uncapped the tube and squeezed some into his mouth. Cort watched through hooded eyes. The thick, saucy substance that oozed out was scarlet, close in color to Cort’s hair.

Gwil’s face turned a shade that matched. His lips puckered up as his eyes watered.

“Wooow!” Gwil yelped. Cort would swear he saw a puff of steam come out. “It’s amazing! You gotta try it.”

“Fuck no,” Cort said. “Let’s get out of here. There’re a bunch more buildings to check out.”

“Just try it,” Gwil said, moving to block Cort from the door.

“I will never tr-”

Gwil squirted a spurt of the ztuff into Cort’s open mouth. If a single droplet had gotten in Cort’s eye, he would’ve wrung Gwil’s neck. But it didn’t.

It had all gone into his mouth, and goddammit if it wasn’t the most exquisite thing Cort had ever tasted. What an incredible explosion of flavor.

Cort enjoyed spicy food, but this… this Zippy’s Zooper Zesty Ztuff was an ambrosia.

It was much more than just fiery spiciness—that’d be barbaric. No, the sauce had a sweet, tangy undertone, a mouth-watering savoriness, and a delectable, tingly smokiness.

“Alright, give me a tube,” Cort said. “How much is there in all?”

Grinning, Gwil flipped Cort a tube and said, “I see… four boxes.”

“Nice. That’ll last at least a month. What even is it? Ketchup? Hot sauce?”

“It’s just ztuff,” Gwil said as he sucked down a half-tube squirt. “Hey, it says there’s potassium in it. Ten mgs. Ten whole megagrams! It’s healthy!”

“Fuck yeah,” Cort said. “Gimme a couple boxes. We’ll bring ‘em to camp and then go see if we can find any more in the other buildings.”

Gwil shoved some stuff out of his way, stacked two boxes, and passed them to Cort.

Cort shouldered his hammer—he really needed to craft a harness for it—and they made their way out of the store.

“I feel amazing,” Gwil said.

“Yeah, I’m zooper wired,” Cort said, his teeth chattering. “Feels like I drank a hundred cups of coffee.”

“Must be the potassium.”

“I dunno,” Cort said. “It’s been fermenting for like two hundred years, so who knows what’s going on with it?”

Gwil set down his two boxes. “Watch this.”

Cort felt a flash of heat as Gwil punched a hole straight through the concrete wall. The door frame collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Idiot,” Cort said. “You could’ve crushed the ztuff.”

They clambered over the pile of debris and made it back to the ruined street. Torn up chunks of asphalt sank into muddy tracts of earth. This whole town was like a giant clumped of ball of sticks and leaves and rocks.

Misty rain fell, swirling with the wind. The wet surfaces reflected the green lightning that constantly flashed within the storm wall.

“You wanna eat a bunch of ketchup and then fight?” Gwil asked.

“Let’s do it.”

“Ooh! Watch this!” Gwil put the boxes down again and then… Pop! Pop! Pop!

Gwil shrank and unshrank three times, bouncing between states instantaneously.

“Woah, nice!” Cort said. It’d be great if Gwil got that shit under control.

Gwil laughed. “Ooh! Let’s squirt some into the dirt where Leira is.”

Cort grinned. “Nah, I bet she’d rather eat it.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

They were nearly back to camp when a voice called out from behind.

“Hello there!”

Gwil and Cort whipped around. Coming up the street was a man wearing a bright yellow jacket. A fluffy brown dog walked at his side.

“I’m friendly, I’m friendly,” the stranger shouted, holding his hands up.

“We’re friendly,” Gwil yelled back. “Can I pet your dog?”

Cort palmed his forehead.

The stranger smiled. “Sure thing. I’m Jayson, and this little guy is Argo.”

The dog barked.