No, this can’t be happening here, not with so many people around. I thought it was over, I thought it was gone, but I can feel the predator’s hunger creeping into my mind.

Panicked, desperate, I clutch my hand around the pouch, as if that could stem the flow of void dripping into the world.

Surprisingly, it seems to work. The drops of black squeezing out between my fingers have slowed, and instead of a giant crack forming in reality, the void that’s pooled in the air above me is barely the size of an orange.

Something’s different—this isn’t the same as before. The predator’s mind isn’t crashing against my own, threatening to sweep me away. In fact, it’s hardly a trickle.

I pause, fighting against my fear to take stock of the situation. It’s definitely the predator—those echoes of hunger in my mind are unmistakable. But it’s only a fraction of the force I’m used to, and the void that’s pooled in the air is a literal drop in the bucket compared to the tidal wave of ink that’s emerged before.

Void Check, I say.

[Void: 0%]

What does that mean? Previously, the amount of ink in my vial had been directly proportional to what percent void I was at. Does that mean my vial is empty now? Before now the stat has only ever reset after the predator was summoned, and this scant amount certainly isn’t all of it.

Inventory Check.

[Inventory Space: DIV/0. Contents: Void.]

It’s still in there, then. But I don’t understand what’s happened. I mean, I’m not complaining about not being mauled by a void monster, but the change in pattern makes me equally nervous. Is it just biding its time? No, that can’t be it—it needs to consume magic to maintain its presence in reality. So why isn’t it attacking?

Despite my warning, Zyneth didn’t run. He’s watching me, fearful and maintaining a healthy distance, but he didn’t leave me. My soul tightens up at that realization.

“Kanin?” Zyneth calls. “Are you still with me?”

Right—I’d told him all about how the predator had affected me the other times it had been summoned. He probably thinks I’m being mind-controlled right now.

“I am okay,” I say, uncertain if that’s really true. I’m fighting every instinct to run, as futile as that would be. You can’t outrun something when you’re the source of it. “I do not understand what is happening. It is not overpowering me. It feels… smaller.”

“It looks smaller,” Zyneth agrees, eyeing the floating ball of black in the air. So far, it hasn’t moved. The ink has stopped seeping out from between my fingers as well. Cautiously, I remove my hand so I can see the damage. There’s a one inch slash across the bag concealing my vial—no doubt the wound goes deeper. Something to investigate later. For now my attention is on the predator: there’s not much of it. Like all the void that had previously filled my core is what’s now floating in the air before me. Why? Was the inventory keeping all but this small amount still contained?

In that case, the ball—this fraction of the predator—should be dragged back Between soon enough. As long as it doesn’t get its hand on any magic or a soul.

I can feel the predator perk up at the thought. Its faint uncertainty evaporates as it remembers its hunger, sharpened like a blade. Shit! Even if it’s muted, it can still hear my thoughts as easily as I can hear its. The void sweeps its gaze around the scene, its attention quickly falling over Raz, still prone on the floor only a few feet away.

“Expletive, Zyneth, watch out! It is going for the mage—”

The ball of ink jets toward the unconscious mage before I can move to stop it. Even so, I throw out a desperate hand, as if I could seize it from the air. No, don’t kill him—I can’t, I can’t be responsible for another death—

And the void stumbles. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like it trips over itself midair, hitting some invisible roadblock and splashing to the ground at Raz’s feet. Zyneth, who’d barely had time to raise a blade, now hops between Raz and the spilled ink, kicking the restrained mage back to send him rolling out of the predator’s range. He glances briefly my way, understandably reluctant to take his eyes off the void for long.

“What’s going on? Did you stop it?”

“No,” I say, just as confused as him. “I mean, I do not think so.”

But, to my astonishment, I can feel the predator’s mind cowering away from mine. What the hell?

Cautiously, I focus on its presence. If I had mana, I would activate a Bond Trace to help visualize the link between us, but as it is, I have to reach blindly forward. Will myself toward its thoughts and feelings, which constantly bleed back into me. Every nerve on edge, I make contact with its mind.

It’s… miniscule. Even as I press forward I can feel it cringing away, bowing beneath the weight of my mind. With a start, I realize what’s going on, why it had stopped trying to attack the mage, and why it isn’t mentally attacking me.

“Holy Expletive Expletive.”

Before, making contact with the predator was like being cast into a violent ocean. I’d lost all sense of self, overwhelmed by the predator’s will. Only now, our roles have flipped. This fraction of the predator is so small that I’m the dominant mind. I’m the ocean, and it’s drowning inside me. I barely have to push to bend the void’s will to my own; now it has to fight to distinguish itself from my thoughts.

It’s absurd. Laughable. I was petrified it was about to take over my mind, all while it was terrified of the same. I press forward, and the predator’s mind shrinks back, the ink on the floor going flat as if the weight of my thoughts are crushing it to the ground.

A sadistic exhilaration passes through me. All right, fucker. Time for a taste of your own medicine.

I hold out my hand, mentally commanding the predator to leave Raz and Zyneth and return to me. It leaps into the air, stopping to float over my palm, as obedient as my own Attuned void. In fact, that’s the only difference, isn’t it? My Attuned void had also been a piece of the predator before I’d activated the Attunement, stripping its connection to the monster. If I Attune this fraction of the predator as well, it should also fall under my control. I’m not sure if that process kills the piece of the predator that’s tied to the void, or if it just banishes it back to Between—and frankly, I don’t care one way or the other, so long as it's gone.

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“Kanin?” Zyneth asks, startling me out of my concentration. The moment my mental grip wavers, the predator slips from my grasp, fearfully floating several feet away. But it doesn’t go too far away. Interesting.

“You better explain what in the Gardens is going on here,” Zyneth says, his voice tight. Is he nervous? Mad? I can’t tell—there’s something tense in his tone.

“I think I can control it,” I say. I wave my hand to the left, and the predator obeys, flinching as it submits to my command. Its fear fills me with satisfaction. Maybe that makes me an asshole. But after what this thing did—after what it made me do—I’m going to wring every ounce of revenge I can out of this moment.

“Gods be good,” Zyneth breathes, watching the display. “Are you sure that’s really the predator?”

“Yes,” I say, feeling it quaver in my mind. I bare down on it until its thoughts whisper out, overridden by my own. I yank the void back over to me like a dog on a leash. “A piece of it, anyway. A very small piece.”

Flickering motion draws my attention back to my surroundings. Dozens of those spider helpers are skittering our way, across ceilings and walls and from up and down the floor. Some of them pause at scorch marks on bookshelves, while others crawl over to Raz, lights blinking on their head like so many eyes. I step hesitantly back as one of them taps against my leg, its eyes blinking at me like some sort of drone sent to survey the scene of a natural disaster. Uninterested in being cataloged as a threat, I slip the void beneath the hem of my cloak, hiding it among the shadows.

A moment later, the rain peters out.

“At least that’s finished,” Zyneth says, wiping his hair back from his eyes and channeling some extremely attractive “love interest in the rain at the climax of a romance movie” vibes.

Trying not to stare, I attempt to wipe the streaks of water off my glass as well, but only succeed in spreading an even layer of blurry water droplets over the surface. “Ugh. I have officially decided I hate water.”

A white shadow falls over the banister, blotting out the lights behind it.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience,” the spider says, all eight of its legs curling over the guardrail as it pulls itself up onto our floor. “The fire suppressant spell circuit is a necessary precaution when your profession deals with so much flammable material as mine.”

For one brief moment I’m grateful for my lack of human anatomy, because I’m sure my jaw would be on the floor. The arachnoid is taller than anything I’d seen in the streets of Miasmere. Even crouched beneath the ceiling of our floor, all of his legs—too many legs—folded up against his body, he’s at least eight feet tall. Despite the humanoid torso emerging from where the head of the spider should be, his entire body shines like it’s polished, an unblemished white, giving his many barbed limbs the unsettling impression of five-foot long icicles. They seem impossibly thin, too narrow to support his body—which only hints at how powerful they must really be.

[Name: Yedzaquib]

[Species: Arachnoid]

[Class: Mind Weaver]

[Level: 68]

[HP: 250/250]

[Mana: 2450/2450]

I take a step back in spite of myself. Yedzaquib’s head moves a fraction in my direction, though I can’t tell from the eight, black, unblinking spheres that must be eyes, if he’s even looking at me. There’s a faint smile on his face, and until he speaks again I’m uncertain if he’s wearing a mask, because the expression is so tailored and perfect that it doesn’t even appear real.

“Master Curator,” Zyneth greets Yedzaquib, recovering before I can. He bows respectfully. “I apologize for disrupting your library, but I would like to head off any allegations of our—my involvement.”

The arachnoid’s head swivels towards Zyneth, and long white strands of hair fall over his shoulder like spider silk. “I am aware. My sentries witnessed enough of the commotion for me to glean who is at fault.” He lifts a hand, and his spider minions converge on Raz, who groans faintly as they begin to secure his arms and legs with more lines of web.

“I wish to atone for the trouble you have experienced today,” Yedzaquib says, still addressing Zyneth. “I personally guarantee the safety of all of my patrons while inside these walls, a promise I have failed to uphold with this altercation. I notice the mage targeted your homunculus—I could replace the damaged goods, if you would like.”

My soul drops at this suggestion, but I wrangle my alarm under control and manage to stay perfectly still, hoping to continue to portray nothing more interesting than a loyal homunculus servant. I can feel the predator wriggling in my mental grasp, trying to escape my hold, and I tighten my grip.

“I assure you, I require no compensation,” Zyneth says. “Actually I was on my way down, and have further errands to run before the day is out. If it would be no insult to you, I would prefer to take my leave. It is sufficient payment to see such a dangerous man apprehended.”

“Hmm,” Yedzaquib considers, staring at Zyneth for a long moment. Finally, slowly and mechanically, he nods. “If that is your wish, you may depart. However, I am not the authority of law in this city.” Responding to some invisible command, one of the spiders jabs Raz in the shoulder, causing the man to jerk, gasping awake.

Zyneth takes a cautious step away from the mage, who begins to thrash against the spiders still pinning him down.

“Let go! Unhand me!” he cries. “This is a mistake—you don’t understand—”

Yedzaquib bows over Raz, his legs moving with unnerving coordination, and I’m briefly reminded of a nature documentary I saw as a kid: a moth caught in a web was fluttering frantically, desperate to escape, as the spider crawled deliberately down toward its prey.

“You have disrupted my library,” Yedzaquib says. This entire conversation his voice has remained soft and reserved, which somehow makes it all worse. “Attacked a patron. Destroyed my personal property. It is my duty to turn you over to the City Guards.”

Zyneth flicks a sharp beckoning gesture in my direction as he continues to back away from the arachnoid and the mage. I don’t need to be told twice: I hurry over to his side as Zyneth offers one last parting bow, but Yedzaquib’s full attention is on his captive. Zyneth starts down the winding ramp of books, and I dutifully follow after.

“However, should you provide guarantees that you no longer pose a threat to my establishment, a different arrangement can be made,” Yedzaquib says, his voice fading as we leave him behind. “I see no reason to inform the Guards if you’d be willing to buy your freedom with an act of community service to my library…”

As the two pass out of sight, Zyneth lets out a breath.

“So that is the librarian, huh?” I ask.

“Yes,” Zyneth says, his tone clipped.

“Kind of creepy.”

Zyneth snorts, but his voice still feels strained. “I would not voice such thoughts within these walls if I were you.”

Fair point. “You think he is really going to let that guy go?”

“I think it prudent we don’t stick around to find out. Besides,” he adds, shooting a tense glance toward my cloak, “we have more immediate matters to attend to.”

I hadn’t even realized I’d relaxed my grip, that my mind had begun to wander, until Zyneth’s words turn my attention back on the predator. The slightest hint of pressure prickles at my mind as it fights against my will. Quickly snuffing out the resistance, I redouble my focus on the predator.

Given Zyneth’s clear reluctance to speak while we’re still in the Athenaeum, I’m left to mull over thoughts of the predator in the silence of my own head as we wind out way down the library. Noli and Zyneth had made me doubt myself. I’d begun to wonder if finding a way back to Earth was the right call. I’ve made more friends here than I had back home, after all; if I could find a way to retrieve my body and stay here, maybe that would be the best of both worlds.

But that had been when I thought the predator was gone and dealt with. We got lucky today: the predator was weak, small enough that I could fight it off on my own. And to be honest, now that I have a grip on it, I’m not worried about it escaping.

The bigger issue is that Pandora’s box is now open. Even if I deal with this small piece, I don’t think I’ll be able to snap the lid back on again—not completely. More of the predator could show up at a moment’s notice—and what if it’s more than I can handle?

No. I can’t remain here, not as long as the predator’s tied to me. So far as I can tell, no amount of magic will ever be able to break its hold on me. Which is why I need to get back to Earth—somewhere magic doesn’t exist, where there’ll be nothing to sustain a creature like this.

Then I can get rid of it for good.