“We need you. We all drink of your will.”

In his detestation of stagnation, the reckless Weaver pursues fell resurrections. So, it begins.

A fiery slash across the sky, a stray piece of debris, cast off by your heedless heavens.

The impact is catastrophic—a spike through Gaia’s heart.

Her ravaged flesh melts away, revealing a tunnel of bone. An ivory bridge.

Descend! Come along, little mote. Bear witness.

Will you be able to live with yourself?

String together driftwood, build a pitiful raft. Cross the River of Bliss. See your reflection in her Yalda’blood surface. Weep into her murky black waters.

Cower in the nooks and crannies as you sneak underfoot of oblivious Styzia.

Find yourself dwarfed by the outer wall of the Ringed City. Glimpse the impossible fortress. Listen to her beautiful-terrible cacophony. Oh, how they howl!

Flee! You will not dare. Your stars are conquered. Every neck rests on the block.

Though the animals were the fiercer, your ancestors domesticated the wolves unto mutation.

You overreached.

Your stewards are not cruel. They cull the weak to water the roots.

“Isca!”

Ambient screams morphed into birdsong as Gwil awakened. He wrinkled his nose at the foul taste in his mouth. Sweat prickled his skin.

But the sunlight was warm, the breeze steady, yet gentle. Leira and Cort sat next to him, and something smelled delicious. Gwil’s racing heart settled.

Dreams are transient and easily forgotten.

“Good evening, sleepyhead,” Leira said.

Gwil’s stomach rumbled as he sat up. He clutched it and then gasped upon looking at Leira.

She brandished a drumstick of meat at him. Gwil reached for it, but she snatched it away.

“Get your own,” she said. “Cort’s treat. I just woke up, too.” She ripped off a chunk of meat with her teeth. “No better way for a girl to start her day. And Cort, I adore being catered to, so keep it up.”

“You eat like a pig,” Cort said.

“Fank ‘oo.”

Cort tore the other drumstick from the charred bird beside him and handed it to Gwil. “Buncha turkeys in those ruins.”

Gwil turned to look while going in on the turkey leg like a beaver.

He hadn’t noticed last night, but the ruined forest ensnarled an even more ruined town. Crumbling concrete buildings peeked through the foliage. They were arranged in neat rows. Mangled thickets of vegetation filled the spaces between.

The walls that still stood told of short, squat buildings, with the tallest crooked columns reaching no higher than two stories. This town had been even smaller than Reverie.

“Nothing special,” Leira said without turning around. “Post-Apocalypse, probably Mid-Lunae. There’re lots of failed settlements from that period. Things were even messier back then.”

The forest had brought slow, arduous destruction upon the town. Tree trunks punched through buildings, vines gripped every surface, malformed mounds covered over buildings.

Stranger was that the forest had been destroyed too. Most of the trees had been splintered or ripped out of the ground, roots and all. And many of those husks were blackened and burnt. Both the ruins and the ground bore jagged scorch marks. The plants had been stripped bare. Soggy, rotten leaves and scraps were piled in the corners. Muddy, flooded ditches scarred the whole area.

“That damage looks recent,” Cort said. “And I’ll bet that storm caused it.”

“Mm,” Gwil and Leira said, their mouths stuffed.

Looking south, the sky was blue and clear. But a burgeoning darkness swept overhead, culminating in near blackness where stood the churning storm wall, some ten kilometers away.

The wind blew ceaselessly in that direction, and all across the sky, clouds streamed toward the wall, drawn in like water circling a drain.

Gwil tossed the cleaned turkey bone over his shoulder and then stretched his arms over his head. “Whew, feels so good to be normal sized.” He furrowed his brow. “But I wonder if I can shrink again.”

“Don’t!” Leira and Cort said.

“I gotta learn somehow,” Gwil said.

“Now is not the time.” Leira gestured at Cort for more turkey. “And what about you, Cortemius? How’s it feel to be out of prison?”

Cort handed her a wing and then leaned back on his hands. “The air is nice. I can’t imagine how good it feels for the people that spent years trapped in there.” He yawned. “Awful night’s sleep, though. That centipede shit did my head in. And my poor feet.”

Cort rubbed the gangrenous-looking things. He still wasn’t wearing shoes. “You’re positive this isn’t going to do permanent damage?”

Leira swallowed while nodding. “I could treat it for you in two days, but unfortunately, it’ll be better by then anyway. Well, fortunately, I guess.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“What’s in two days?” Gwil said.

“I’m glad you asked. I used such cryptic wording in hopes that you would.” Leira cleared her throat and sucked her fingers clean. “I have bad news. I know we’re all eager to get moving. But Cort, remember when I did the impossible and killed those guards to save the prisoners?”

He nodded.

“I spent everything I had on that. So, what I need to do—this is going to sound weird—is bury myself underground for two whole days.”

“What the hell?” Cort said.

Gwil laughed. “Are you gonna kill me again?”

“She killed you?” Cort said, throwing his hands up.

“No, no,” Leira said with a wave. “I had to regrow my whole body that time. This is something different and simpler.” She pointed at the budding eyeflower. “I just need it to bloom so I can use my spores again.”

“Whatever,” Cort said. “I won’t complain about taking some rest. I need to eat a dozen turkeys to get my weight back up.”

Gwil and Leira exchanged a look. Cort was already a massive person, built like a brick house.

“Are you gonna be bored, Leira?” Gwil asked. “Can we keep you company?”

“Nah, I’ll be asleep.”

Cort pointed toward the forest. “There’s a bunch of holes over there. Should we just throw you in now or…?”

Leira clicked her tongue. “When I’m done eating.”

Cort had set up a makeshift dressing station using an old metal sign and some chunks of concrete. He already had another turkey plucked, cleaned, and skewered with a spit. “Wish we hadn’t had to leave in such a hurry,” he said as he stuck the second turkey over the fire and sat down to turn it. “We could’ve grabbed a lot of useful shit. We have fuck all.”

“Dammit!” Gwil said, smacking his thigh. “I forgot to take a little robot.”

Leira laid back with her arms folded behind her head. Then she immediately shot upright. “Cort, you need to take us to that Vermin commander.”

“Not gonna happen,” Cort said.

“Why?” Leira snapped. “Don’t be so wimpy. They won’t care about your botched job once we tell them about Gwil. And hell, they’ll be thrilled we blew up the Kaia. Half the damn continent probably saw the sky light up.”

“That’s great,” Cort said. “Except I’ve got no clue where they are. Our rendezvous was three weeks ago. They’re long gone.”

“Well, you need to find them,” Leira said.

Cort mimicked her using an obnoxious voice and then said, “Well, I was due to meet them in Arleen. So we can turn around if you want and waste a month wandering around down there.” He grinned. “But we should’ve just stayed on the airship if we were gonna do that.”

Leira scowled and scoffed.

“Let’s just keep going this way and see what happens,” Gwil said. “We’ll probably run into other Vermin people, eventually.”

Just as the smell of the roasting turkey became intoxicating, Cort took the spit off the fire and set to carving the bird. He again gave Gwil and Leira the two legs.

“Thanks for cooking, Cort!” Gwil said as he chewed. “You’re super good at it.”

Cort grunted.

“Yes, thank you. I’m very glad you came with us,” Leira said. “You’re so sour I thought Gwil would have to drag you, kicking and screaming.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone drag me anywhere,” Cort grumbled. “What do you even mean?”

“Soon as I saw you, I knew you were coming with us,” Gwil said.

“Eh? I might not stick around. Depends how much you two annoy me.” Cort grimaced. “I… feel like I owe you guys, on behalf of all the prisoners.”

“Very noble,” Leira said. “But I don’t buy that.”

Cort’s cheek bunched up tight at his scowl. He ate a few bites of food. “Isca,” he said on a sigh. “Isca thought there’s something special about the two of you. I need to find her. I know she’s alive, but she might need help. There’s something weird going on. Seriously weird—she’s in a cult or some shit. Please. I need you both to help me find her.”

“Awwww,” Leira said.

“What the fuck?” Gwil yelled. “Don’t say please. Why are you even asking? Of course we’re gonna go find her.” He jumped to his feet, dropping what remained of his turkey leg. “Where is she? Let’s go.”

Leira tugged on Gwil’s sleeve. “Gwil, sit down.”

“Leira, can you do your buried thing in a wheelbarrow so we can get moving?”

Cort started laughing.

“Do you have any idea where she might be, Cort?” Leira asked.

Still chuckling, Cort shook his head. “Not a damn clue. But she told me to find her. And she told me to go with you guys. This is the right path.”

“Hmm,” Leira said. “I wonder what the hell she was trying to accomplish. Why would it be so important for her to destroy a minor Kaia mine? There’s a thousand more, all over the World.”

“She just kept saying that she had to,” Cort said. “Something about excising a poison. I don’t fuckin’ know. I definitely think it’s a cult. Those tattoos.” He spat. “I hate cults.”

“We should hurry though,” Gwil said. “Go bury yourself, Leira.”

“Don’t rush me,” she said. “Ugh, Gwil, why are you still wearing those clothes? You got slime all over my fingers. Go change right now.”

She shoved Gwil away until he stood and went to his backpack. As he started digging for clothes, he burst out laughing.

“Cort! You look like a giant, stupid… ballerina or something! Bahaha!”

The huge man was wearing Gwil’s extremely undersized clothes. He wore one of Gwil’s shirts with the sleeves cut off, and it fit like a crop top, exposing half of his belly, and tightly hugging his pecs. He’d used the sleeves as a belt for the pants—which he had to wear unbuttoned—and he’d cut the legs into flaps so that they hung around his knees like two skirts.

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Cort barked. “I didn’t pack a bag for prison, and my uniform was rancid. You assholes should’ve thought to get me some clothes on the airship. I was too messed up to think of anything.”

Gwil tugged free a pair of cargo pants and a flannel shirt and then dove back in to find socks and underwear.

As he stripped out of the jumpsuit, Leira yelled, “Holy shit, Gwil!”

“Huh?”

“Your chest looks terrible,” she said. “Come over here.”

Gwil finished putting on his pants and went to her. He looked down at himself. His chest was covered with patches of angry pink granulation tissue, and lumpy with oddly protruding ribs.

“Oh yeah, that’s nothing. I meant to…” He pumped Nirva into his hands and then hammered his ribs back into place with the heels of his palms. Fresh skin began to creep in over the raw tissue.

“Damn,” Cort said. “You look like a slice of pepperoni pizza.”

“What the fuck?” Leira squealed as she looked him over. “What is this? How are you alive?”

Gwil looked down at the spot into which she was jamming her finger. “Oh, that’s not new. I’ve always had that.”

It was a nasty scar. Perfectly round, coin-sized, with a shallow bowl-shaped depression.

“Gwil, that’s right where your heart is.” She grabbed him and spun him around. “Oh my god, it goes out the other side.”

Cort had come over to look too, and muttered, “What the fuck?”

“This happened when you were a kid?” Leira said. “How? It’s not possible, Gwil.”

He shrugged.

“Ah!” Leira yelped. “That story. The dragon knight. This! This is why he was interested in you, why he left you alive. It has to be.”

“Ohhh! Cool. He did poke me there and so did… uh…”

“Gwil!”

“What? What?”

“Why have you got a ‘6’ tattooed on your back?” Leira said.

“I do?” He turned his head to try to look. “Is that a six? I thought it was a mole.”

“It’s definitely a six,” Cort said. “And it’s definitely a tattoo.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Gwil said.

“Shit,” Cort said, examining the two scars on Gwil’s front and back for himself. “That’s crazy. You really did get stabbed straight through the heart. Maybe you’ve died twice.”

“Don’t say stupid things,” Leira muttered. She cupped Gwil’s cheek and looked at him. The lotus bud quivered. “What happened to you?”

Gwil shook his head. “I dunno.”

***

As the last sliver of sunlight fell beneath the horizon, Leira jumped into the hole that she’d chosen. The pit came pre-dug, courtesy of a toppled tree. Worms and other critters crawled among the tangle of roots.

“Ugh, it’s all wet and muddy,” Leira groaned. But she laid down and crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright, bury me.”

Cort had hammered some scraps of metal into makeshift shovels. Gwil took a scoop of dirt, hesitated for a moment, and then dumped it onto Leira’s stomach.

“This is weird,” he said.

“Nah, it’s fi-pffft! Fuck you, Cort,” Leira spat. “You could see that my mouth was open.”

“Sorry! I thought if you’re spending two days in there, then it didn’t… eh,” he trailed off.

“Listen. Don’t let anything happen to me. And don’t get yourselves in trouble. Please have food prepared for when I wake up. Sunset in two days. Don’t worry, I’ll scream my head off when it’s time. And then, the first thing we’re gonna do is find a fucking bath.”

Leira giggled as they buried her, and then she started snoring.