As the remnant’s influence spread through the fortress, following the instructions of its organic companion, memories tickled at its mind. It had once been interfaced with the fortress in such a way before. Some time in the past. It didn’t know how long ago, because it didn’t have any concept of time. Except for when the other voice intervened, with counters and numbers and all sorts of nonsensical information. That voice grated at the remnant. It was unnatural. The remnant only knew how to eat natural things.

The first thing it did, as part of its instructions, was to consume the stone above the castle. It had been very excited for this part of the plan. Eating was its favorite thing to do.

The caves rumbled as the stone was consumed, giant chunks of rock vanishing as if bitten off by a vast, invisible beast. Pebbles and dust, knocked loose from the disruption, rained down toward the city. The remnant ate those, too, greedily snatching them up before they could reach the ground. The ground was off limits. But there were no rules about not eating anything that fell, before it hit the ground.

On the surface, giant fissures cracked through the snow. Some of the Jorrian mages attempted to seal these cracks with beams of ice, but the effort was futile. This was no counter attack. Nothing was about to break through the top of the glacier. Rather, the shell of ice that had formed over the underground cave system was now losing its support, the rock beneath it rapidly vanishing into nothing. It only took another few seconds for gravity to have its way.

The Jorrian troops unlucky enough to be standing over the kingdom when the ice began to crack attempted, too late, to scramble back to more stable ground. In a near perfect circle roughly one kilometer across, the ice cratered, then collapsed down into the void.

The remnant snapped up the ice that fell. And as living organic matter became nonliving organic matter, that was consumed as well. There were bits of untasty ice, ice that the annoying mind voice told the remnant it couldn’t eat, and these bits of ice fell to the streets unhindered. But they represented a small minority of material that was off limits to the remnant. It devoured all other matter, which vanished into its bottomless, never-satiated stomach.

Below, in the city, bewildered Fyrethians blinked up at the sky. It was late morning, but the sky still glowed purple, the sun only a sliver beneath the horizon at this extreme latitude. Stars sprinkled the heavens—real ones, not specks of bioluminescence in a cave.

The remnant took a moment to happily digest its meal. That was good. Nothing could ever compare to the crunch of rock between its teeth—the salty sour taste of limestone, the satisfying effervescence of baryonic matter dissolving on its tongue.

Not that it understood concepts like “baryonic.” Or “satisfied,” for that matter. No, it always craved more.

The remnant’s attention moved beneath the Fortress next. Some of this work had already been done in the prior weeks, large swatches of stone carved away to create underground caverns beneath the castle. Giant pillars still attached the fortress to the surrounding rock, far too few and too thin to be able to support the weight of the kingdom. That wasn’t their intended purpose, however. Quite the opposite, in fact.

One by one, each of these stone tethers was cut. The remnant swirled its awareness around the castle, checking every interface point it had been instructed to consume, but soon the excruciating slow movement of the fortress itself proved evident that its mission had been successful. The castle was completely excavated from the surrounding stone. And now, buoyed by the cloudstone which made its foundation—which it had slowly been transformed into over the last several days—it was beginning to float skyward.

The movement was imperceptible at first. Momentum kept it from drifting much in any direction, and the remnant’s organic companion had been extremely meticulous about ensuring the ratio of cloudstone to conventional stone was measured such that the forces of both nearly canceled each other out entirely. Nearly, because it still needed to float. The goal was to do so at a controlled rate.

Fyreneth’s Fortress rose into the air inch by inch. Above ground, the Jorrians were still reeling from the sudden crater which had swallowed a quarter of its forces. Below ground, people had begun to notice something was happening. A giant crack had appeared in the floor just before the gates of Fyreneth’s Keep, and a grating tremor was passing through the ground. The floor of the cavern had sunk—or perhaps the gates of the Fortress were rising. Either way, the gap was widening.

A few of the Jorrian soldiers who had breached the gate hesitated at this revelation. Some of them jumped back toward the cavern floor. Others were forced into the pit. A dragon swept its tail across the stone, scattering the troops and sending many screaming into the abyss. It circled protectively around a dozen soldiers, all of which climbed up its back or clung desperately to its spines. Then it stepped up through the gates, bringing the stranded soldiers with it. The portcullis closed behind it.

As the mammoth structure rose, several magical networks activated. Giant stone rudders that had been erected around the base of the castle flexed their joints and adjusted their angles. Control surfaces began feeding metrics back through spell circuits. The individual who was seated on the throne struggled to process all the information coming their way, shunting most of the information off for later analysis. At the moment there was only one command that needed to be executed: Rise.

And the fortress did. Glacially overcoming its momentum, the rate of ascent began to increase. It was no longer measured in inches, but feet. Soon, it would be meters.

The highest tower of the keep breached the surface of the tundra. Now the Jorrians had some idea of what was transpiring. Shock and fear turned to desperation and outrage. The mad scramble to regroup turned into a mad scramble to assert new lines and prepare for battle. For this battle was only beginning.

A tower on the west wall clipped a portion of the cave as it rose past. The structure crumbled, shaving off a sliver of the fortress and sending boulders cascading back down into the caverns below. The remnant winced as it felt a chunk of itself cut away, then took the opportunity to eat the bits of stone that were now separated from the fortress, and therefore no longer classified as being part of the city. It could fix that later, if it was asked to. It would rather not give up any of the matter it had consumed, if given a choice, but the mana it received in compensation was usually worth it. Mana tasted different from stone. It was sweet and clear and fluid, unlike the crunchy tang of solid rock. But its stream was drying up. It had done what it had been tasked to do. It rather would have liked to stay like this—actually, it rather would have extended its influence even more, spreading even further, taking more delicious matter into its domain. But now that it was separated from the ground, that would be more difficult.

Difficult, though not impossible.

For now, it would retire. Draw back in on itself and hibernate after a meal well earned, waiting until the next opportunity to pull more matter into its gluttonous core, ever gnawing at itself, never sated, like the quiet inevitability of a black hole.

----------------------------------------

I awaken to a pounding headache. A hand squeezes my arm a moment later.

“Are you alright?” Mirzayael. She sounds worried.

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“I think so.” I crack my eyes open, and the lighting is strange, though I can’t pinpoint why. I’m outside on one of the streets. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could answer that for me.” She turns her face upward. “We’re flying.”

Oh. Right.

I sit up quickly, pushing past the spike of pain and swirl of dizziness this sends through my skull. I was going to prepare the castle for activation, but it looks like we’re already way past that.

The Dungeon Core beams proudly in my mind. Look! Didn’t it do its job so well? It ate up all the stone and ice overhead, and all the tether rocks underneath, and it only broke a little bit of the castle!

I do look, and now I understand why the lighting seems strange. We’re no longer in a cave, lit only by scattered pinpricks of light. Overhead is the open sky, a dark purple-blue, though even that seems full of light compared to the caverns.

Yet the cave walls still surround us. We haven’t cleared the surface.

Using Mirzayael’s arm, I pull myself to my feet. “Sorry for the scare. I only meant to start the sequence with the mana flow necessary for the launch, but I wasn’t anticipating the Core’s influence to be so… overwhelming. How long was I out?”

“A few minutes,” Mirzayael says. “Ollie went to the palace to get help, I think. He seemed distressed.”

“Help’s not necessary.” I mentally reach out to him to let him know I’m alright.

“OH, THANK GOODNESS!” Ollie cries in my mind, and I can’t help but wince. “IT’S REALLY SCARY WHEN YOU DO THAT.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” I tell him. “Can you get back here and pick me up?” I could probably fly myself up there, but given my still-pounding headache and slight dizziness, relying on Ollie is probably for the best.

As I’m speaking to him, motion flickers in the corner of my eye. I turn my head in time to see a ball of ice flying our way. I open my mouth, but Mirzayael reacts first.

“Incoming!” she cries, yanking me behind her. “Take cover!”

Guards scatter at the cry, diving behind buildings and trying to scramble out of its path. The ice explodes as it strikes a building one street over, sending shrapnel of ice and stone in every direction. Only a gust of cold wind reaches us.

“Thank you,” I say, nerves electrified with a punch of adrenaline. If I wasn’t awake and alert before, I am now. I extract myself from Mirzayael’s protective grasp. “I need to get to the throne room as quickly as possible and make sure the aerial units are ready. We need to counterattack as soon as possible. Buy us time to make it into the sky and out of their range. If you have any ground units with ranged attacks, we’ll need them stationed on the walls, too.”

“Understood,” Mirzayael says, yet she stays by my side.

I shake my head. “You don’t have to babysit me. Ollie’s on his way to pick me up.” Even as I explain, the dragon wheels overhead, looking for a place to land that won’t involve squishing any buildings—or people. I squeeze Mirzayael’s arm. “Thank you.”

Her expression softens with the faintest smile. “I’d tell you to be careful, but that didn’t seem to help much last time.”

I breathe out a laugh. “I should be safe in the throne room at least. It’s the arial units I’m worried about. Stay safe out here.”

“I’ll speak with you after the battle,” she assures me.

I hesitate. There’s something I’ve been wanting to speak with Mirzayael about for a while. It had slipped my mind prior to the battle, in the face of so many other things that needed to be done. But after experiencing the uncertainty and anxiety of not knowing her fate while she fought the Jorrians, I want to discuss it now more than ever.

“Actually, it would be better if we could stay in contact to coordinate our plans,” I say. Nervous, I look up at her. “I know how you object to psionics, but if I established a mental connection with you—”

“Do it,” she says.

“It’s permanent,” I tell her. “It probably bears some thought before committing to such a bond.”

“We do not have time to analyze the long-term ramifications,” Mirzayael says. “I am agreeing to this. That is enough.”

My heart swells with her words. It might not have sounded like much, but for Mirzayael, she might as well have sworn her life to me. I squeeze her hand and activate Psionic Link.

[Spell Activated,] Echo says.

I reach my mind out for her and find it. Sturdy, warm, reliable. I can feel her mind turn toward me in surprise. Hesitantly, she extends a mental hand. I take it, and pull her close.

[New link established.]

Mirzayael glances around nervously. “Well?”

“I’m here,” I tell her gently. She still jumps at my voice.

“Hello?” she mentally replies. “How does this work?”

“You’re already doing it.”

Her mouth twitches in a nervous smile.

Ollie finally lands behind us, tiptoeing around the buildings. “THAT WAS HARDER THAN IT LOOKED.”

I let go of Mirzayael’s hand and grab one of Ollie’s spines, swinging up onto his back. “Good luck.”

Mirzayael’s face settles back into its natural, concentrated frown. “You as well.” Then she adds mentally, tentatively, “Thank you.”

I smile as Ollie takes us into the sky. The real sky—not just another large cavern. Already gusts of wind and snow are blowing over the Fortress. I make a mental note to reinforce the internal warming spells at a later date, counting on the fact that there will be a later date for all of us.

Ollie brings me to the palace in a matter of seconds, though in that time he’s forced to dodge around another chunk of ice that’s been catapulted toward us. More projectiles are being launched our way, now. If we don’t fight back soon, they’ll do serious damage before we’re fully airborne. And if they damage enough of the equipment at the base of the castle—not to mention, if they chip enough of the cloudstone away, the only thing keeping this castle aloft—we’ll be in serious trouble. Not that they should be aware of any of that, but the moment we clear the surface, the most critical portions of the castle will be the easiest target for them to hit.

I jump off of Ollie’s back as soon as he lands on the platform, and I have to flare and gyrate my wings to keep myself upright as I half stumble, half run into the throne room. Dizzi is sitting in the chair, eyes obscured by the stone “crown” with the Dungeon Core glowing in its center.

I put a hand on her shoulder, and she squawks in alarm, hitting her head against the stone.

“Easy!” I tell her. “It’s just me.”

Dizzi scrambles out of the throne, relief clear on her face. “Thank the stars. I thought I was going to crash the whole thing. I don’t know how you’re able to keep so many commands straight at once.”

I pat the Dungeon Core’s jewel. “I’ve got some help with multi-task processing.”

Dizzi gestures to the throne. “Well, it’s all yours.”

I mentally dip into the spell network through the Dungeon Core’s interface and take control of the flight spells she’d been activating. Between her and the Dungeon Core, the Fortress is largely on track, but the wind is blowing it toward the east wall. I tweak a couple of the control surfaces, then set it to a magical sort of autopilot. “Well done, Dizzi. I have it now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Without sitting down first?”

“I don’t need to sit on the throne to access its spells anymore. I can do that remotely, thanks to the Core. What I’m really here for is to make sure the harpies are ready.” I glance around the room, but it’s only Dizzi and I. “Where are they?”

“They’re outside,” Dizzi says. “Almost everyone went out to watch. Did you see the cave roof open above us? That was something else.”

I frown. “Noncombatants should seek shelter indoors. It’s about to become even more dangerous for everyone.” I turn for a balcony myself. “I need a better view of what we’re facing. Go track down the harpies and tell them we’re ready to begin. Mirzayael is in the lower city; they can check in with her or me for further direction, whichever of us is closest.”

“Mirzayael,” I think, and I can feel her mind startle. I guess she’s still getting used to the link, not that I can blame her. “Some of the aerial units should be heading your way, soon.”

“Understood,” she replies. I smile faintly; even her thoughts are blunt and spartan.

“What happens if we run out of munition?” Dizzi asks, following me out.

“I can make more,” I say, though I’m not sure when I’ll have the time. “We just need enough to hold the Jorrians at bay until we’re clear of their range. It should be smooth sailings after that.”

“It’s the before part I’m worried about,” Dizzi says.

Same here.

But it’s too late for doubts now.

Dizzi steps up onto a balcony, spreading her wings, then hesitates as she looks back at me. “Any specific message I should deliver?”

A steady, cold breeze ruffles my feathers. The Fortress groans and creaks like an ancient ship. I listen for the battle over the city’s ambient sounds, but the troops must be too distant, still blocked by the walls of the cave we’re rising through, and I’m instead left with an unsettling quiet. It doesn’t feel like we’re in the midst of a fight for our lives. That only makes it seem all the more tense.

“Launch at your command,” I tell Dizzi and Mirzayael.

Dizzi salutes, then jumps from the palace walls and circles out of sight.

We’ve been on defense this whole time. We’ve been looked down upon, suppressed, and dismissed as an easily squashable foe.

It’s time to change all that.