Gwil was in hysterics. His enemies were pissing themselves. Jackson was feral with rage, screaming and cursing like the village lunatic on a particularly horrific night.

Despite the — from their perspective — calamitous turn of events, the Podexians still held their ground with spears aloft, protecting their boss.

Gwil didn’t mind taking a breather. Things felt a bit… loose and wriggly in his guts, and his fit of laughter had made it worse. But he couldn’t help it. They’re free!

Nirva burned in his stomach, stitching things back together. But the rest of him felt frail and battered in its absence.

“Ha! You’re done for,” Gwil said.

Jackson fell silent. The echoes of his deranged screams lingered as he lowered his hat. His cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, partly because of the swelling, and partly because of the huge wads of tobacco he’d stuffed into his mouth.

The sheriff dashed toward his chopper.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Gwil yelled.

Heedless, he threw himself into the wall of spears. The guards pushed back. Gwil disarmed a couple, threw a few punches. But his injuries were taxing, and his Nirva faltered. He was forced to back away.

Jackson had mounted his bike and fired up the engine. Rancid Kaia smog belched out the exhaust. Gwil felt nauseous and shivery from the smell.

With a spray of dust and smoke, the sheriff peeled out. Gwil backpedaled, intending to run around the guards and give chase. He wouldn’t let that bastard touch the prisoners.

But it turned out that was not the sheriff’s intent. Jackson blew right past the gate and then veered out, making a beeline for a very solid-looking section of the stone wall.

Gwil gasped. The sheriff was going to crash!

An array of ropes flew out of Jackson’s hands, reaching all the way to the top of the wall. The bike tilted back onto its rear wheel.

“Ooh!” Gwil yelled.

Jackson drove his chopper straight up the sheer, vertical face of the wall. No wonder he loved that bike so much.

Gwil watched in awe as Jackson escaped and forgot to be mad about it.

The chopper reached the top. The roar of the engine faded as Jackson raced along the wall, heading for the manor.

Gwil cracked his knuckles. “Good. He’s going home. I hope he knows we’re not done.”

Gwil looked back at the shell-shocked guards beside him. Spears at the ready, they backed away slowly.

“Aw, he left you all behind. Cigar! Toothpick! I didn’t get a chance to say hi. Glad to see you woke up.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Cigar said. “This is a strategic retreat.”

“If you’re smart,” Toothpick said, “you’ll take this gift from the sheriff and run as far as you can.”

As Gwil strode toward them, one guard tripped and fell on his ass.

“I could kill all of you right now,” Gwil said, smiling. “But I won’t. Go. Tell him we’re coming to take everything. You all get to watch.”

Rapturous screams signaled the opening of the gate.

“You should run,” Gwil said. “I think they’re angry.”

The sheriff’s officers ran. Gwil wondered why they made for the town rather than following Jackson, but then he realized they had no way to get up the wall. Idiots.

And then he ran too, with his innards sloshing around and his misshapen ribs crunching together, Gwil ran toward the surging tide of freed prisoners.

He allowed himself to be swept up. Their eyes glittered, and their smiles were wild. But their lungs still buzzed like a thousand flies.

As they spread across the rocky expanse, a visible timidity held them. It was as if they did not believe it. As if with every footfall, they feared a plummet. That they’d be torn away from this dream.

Gwil spotted Brock, who was hard to miss, and made his way to him through the throng.

Cort was there. Gwil ran up and threw his arms around him, which the man tolerated for longer than Gwil expected.

“We did it,” Cort said.

Gwil shook his head. “He got away.”

“Who?”

“The sheriff.” Gwil pointed up toward the manor. “And the Burgermaster is in there. Freeing the slaves is not enough.”

Cort stared at him.

“We need to crush them. Or they’ll just do it again, won’t they?”

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

Cort sighed. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

“Where’s Leira?” Gwil asked.

Cort pointed up at Brock. “Sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” Gwil said as he climbed up Brock’s body.

“Hey, I think she needs the rest,” Cort said. “She did something crazy with that flower.”

The blonde afro guy sat slumped in the chair next to her, with a big, angry welt on his forehead.

Gwil grabbed Leira’s shoulders and gave her a little shake.

“Wuh,” Leira groaned as her eyelid fluttered. “Gwil! What’s going on?”

“Everyone’s out,” Gwil said. “Now we’re gonna take the fight to them.”

“What?” She rubbed at her eye and then stretched. “Fucking hell. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I feel like shit. Help me down.”

“What happened to your eyeflower?” Gwil asked as he guided Leira down to the ground. The petals were all small and stunted, clustered up like a bud.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said as she looked around at the carousing mob. Her eyes lingered on the town. “So, it’s done? We can just run for it?”

“No way,” Gwil said. “I’m not done. I need to finish off the sheriff.”

“You fought him?” Leira said. “Shit, you look terrible!” She grabbed his chin and twisted him around to check his injuries.

“You do look like a giant wound,” Cort said.

“I was this close…” Gwil held up two fingers to indicate a microscopic amount, “…to winning.”

“Gwil, don’t. This is enough. You can’t force these people to fight. Look at them.”

“Huh? That’s the last thing I want. They should all run away.”

“I think he’s right,” Cort said. “If we don’t cut the head off, they’ll be dogging us wherever we go. But listen. There’s no time for a committee right now. We need to get everyone as far away from the wall as possible.” He pointed toward the border of the town. “I think that little cove in the cliffside is our best bet.”

“What? Why?”

Cort took a deep breath. “Isca stayed behind. She’s gonna blow up the Kaia.”

Gwil punched him hard in the shoulder. Cort staggered but did not react otherwise.

Leira shoved Gwil out of her way. “You left her alone to do that!” she shrieked. “What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were alright. Why didn’t you go with her?”

“Shut up,” Cort snarled. “Both of you. You don’t know what you’re talking about. She… promised me she’d be fine.”

“Oh okay,” Gwil said. “You should’ve said before.”

Leira grunted.

“She wouldn’t lie about that,” Gwil said.

“Yeah,” Cort said, nodding. “She wouldn’t. And she wasn’t lying about blowing that mountain to hell either. We need to get everyone clear. Let’s move.” He marched away.

“Wait!” Leira said. “This is a terrible idea. We gotta stop her.”

“We can’t,” Cort said. “She needs to do this.”

“You don’t understand,” Leira said. “The Leviathan will-”

“I trust her,” Cort said. “Hurry up, I don’t wanna leave her stewing in her decision.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yo, everyone!”

***

The mob huddled into the cove and waited with bated breath. Some stood at the edge, staring toward the wall.

Tears fell for Isca.

Word had spread of what was to come. Cort’s assurances fell on deaf ears. For these beleaguered people, such a fanciful hope would not come easy.

They waited.

A disturbance rippled through the tense silence. Two figures approached. Anger flared up in the mob.

“Way to go, doc!” Gwil shouted. “Calm down, you all. Buzzard is with us.”

Buzzard and Dwillard hurried over to him and the mob settled, albeit with some reluctance.

“Heehee. Yes, yes,” Buzzard said. “Gods, you nearly gave me a heart attack when you touched the Erithist with your bare hand! I didn’t think you capable of such a brilliant ruse!”

“Ohhh,” Gwil said. “That was you who shot the needle?”

“What? Of course it was me, you idiot!” He threw his long arms up. “What did you think happened?”

Gwil shrugged. “I thought it just fell out of the sky or something. Wow! You saved me. You saved everyone, doc!”

Buzzard’s blue cheeks blushed pink. “Well, I-”

“Really?” Cort said. “This asshole helped you?”

“Heehee. Gwilym had one foot in hell. He would not be here without me.”

“That’s true,” Gwil said.

“Tell me, Gwilym, did you know you could do that? Or was it drawn out by duress?”

“Do what? I knew I could beat him,” Gwil said.

“That’s not what I-”

Dwillard fell to his knees and threw his arms around Gwil’s legs. “I’m so glad you’re alive!” he wailed.

“Ahhh! I get it!” Gwil said. “Dwillard, get up! You opened the door, right? I saw you flying! So cool!”

Instead of standing up, Dwillard flopped over onto his side.

“Don’t mind him,” Buzzard said. “More importantly, why have you all congregated here? Shouldn’t you be running away or something?”

“Your precious Kaia mine is about to be blown to shit,” Cort said.

Buzzard gaped and then rubbed his hands together. “Heehee, really? How sinfully delightful!”

“I thought you’d be mad, doc,” Gwil said.

“Mad? This is an incredibly rare thing I get to witness. It’s not often that someone is willing to destroy such a large quantity of such an invaluable resource. I have severed ties with Podexia. I was leaving the Kaia behind, anyway.

“No, this is spectacular. It will surely be one of the biggest Kaia-related incidents to ever grace the World. I’m so excited to see the effects. When will it happen? I wonder if we’re far enough away…”

Leira twirled a finger around her ear.

***

Leira wanted to stop this. Needed to stop this. The Leviathan would be aware. But she found her tongue knotted by something, something familiar and unpleasant. Reverence.

Isca’s tattoos were not just a sexy look, then. She was someone of power. Real power. The World was twisting itself around her desires. And others would have their wills bent in accommodation.

Shapers. That was what Anesidyra called them.

Leira was one herself. So was Gwil. Skuld, without a doubt. That old man had it in spades.

She’d spent her life crushed beneath such otherworldly weight. And she had broken free.

That Leira found herself suppressed by Isca’s will right now was frightening. The woman was not even present. And she did not appear to be of such high station, for lack of a better term. She was a prisoner in this shithole, for fuck’s sake.

Leira had never seen the script of her tattoos. Whatever she was, or was a part of, it was something of terrible consequence. That, or the woman’s conviction to commit this act was incredibly strong.

Perhaps it was best that Leira let this happen. Not that she had much choice. She set her jaw. Ashkana would not be afraid.

***

Everyone was gone. And they were free.

Isca hated herself for feeling jealous. But it was so hard. And she had so far to go.

It would never end.

But she had this damnable sliver of hope. Not for herself, or her sect, but for the World. It was not too late. She’d seen it with her own two eyes. I must return home.

Back in the mines. Isca stood at the bottom of a pit, in the very same spot she’d been working when the uprising began. She laughed. So much had changed in those few hours, it felt like years had passed.

She’d been working a particularly rich vein. The Kaia’s glow was radiant. Beautiful, even.

Isca picked her pickaxe up off the ground—it lay right where she’d left it.

“I can’t wait to see you again, Cort,” she whispered.

Isca sliced her palm open with the axe and squeezed her fist above the Kaia vein. Her corrupted blood caught fire when it touched the air.

The white-blue flare that erupted was at odds with existence itself. A rift tore open.

***

Kaia burned with such voracious intensity that the explosion’s full duration was as brief as a heartbeat. Deep eradication was the sole yield.

No bones, no blood. Of the Forsaken Apostate whose name was Drevytra Iscalia, Hellwalker, not a trace remained.