Streaks of water dribble down my glass as I breach and begin to take in my surroundings. The water in my crack also starts to leak out, once more causing a distinctly uncomfortable internal tickling sensation. I better find a way back out that doesn’t involve the plumbing system again.

The room is large and made of stone, lit by dozens of lights that are strung across the ceiling on more spider silk. Reflections scatter off the water, sending a shimmering pattern over the room’s wide, circular wall. Other pools are laced through the floor, connected by narrow channels of water and bands of magics. The spiderweb of water spans the whole room, cut an inch or two into the floor, making the area as easy to cross as stepping stones—if you were human-sized. The streams of water and magical circuits vanish into the walls, where I imagine they must be pumped up to all the higher floors. This room is probably the brains of the anti-fire system.

But it’s not the brains of the whole operation. I can tell the majority of the magic in this room is connected to a stronger source another floor down. But how to get there?

Glancing around to make sure I’m alone, I use my glass and void to hoist me out of the water and onto the floor. The void responds by splitting into tentacles, grabbing the lip of stone, and pulling me out like some kind of oily black octopus. Lovely.

There are a few tunnels scattered along the wall, though no indication of where any of them might lead, so I pick the closest and make for it. It’s a little awkward walking on four glass legs again, but the void moves to support the limbs unprompted, making it a little easier. It’s weird how good their synergy is. Like the glass are bones and the void is muscles and ligaments.

This is some fucking Halloween shit.

As I traverse the room, the predator remains conspicuously quiet, which, I finally realize, is because I still have a stranglehold on its mind. The predator is completely engulfed in my subconscious. It has no thoughts, except what I think, no emotions, except what I feel. Its sense of self is completely gone.

Just like when it had overpowered me.

The realization makes me uneasy. When the predator had taken over my mind, it had been horrific. Of course, I hadn’t been able to fully realize that horror until after the fact, but the experience of being forced to take people’s lives—of delighting in their pain—is a memory that will plague me to the end of my days. I never want to be put in that situation again. I never want my autonomy taken from me.

And isn’t that exactly what I’m doing to the predator now?

No, this is different. I’m taking away its will in order to protect people, not hurt them. That makes it okay… right? Of course. This is the right thing to do.

But it doesn’t stop me from feeling sick. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m behaving exactly like the thing I despise most.

I release the predator’s mind, shoving it away in disgust. The moment the predator’s mind separates from my own, it broils with rage and indignation.

Oh, fuck off, I grumble. You’re mad? You started all this.

Shockingly, this does little to mollify the predator’s hatred. Hey, at least it goes both ways.

Despite giving the predator’s mind some breathing room, it’s still obnoxiously close, all of its feelings and observations bleeding over into me. Probably a result of our void mixing together. I can feel the predator reaching back out for its hold on the null magic, but I swat its influence away. Yeah, I don’t think so. Now that its void is mixed with mine, and I’ve no idea how to separate the two, it’s just going to have to deal with me piloting the combined mass for now.

The first doorway leads to a spiral staircase. The direction of all the powerful lines of magic is down, but Zyneth is up. I think I could make it down to the next floor without too much trouble, but there’s always the risk of running into someone on the stairs and having nowhere to hide—and even if I do find the arcana crystal, I’d need Zyneth’s help to carry it out. Besides, I’d just promised reconnaissance. Reluctantly, I turn away from the source of the magic and start to climb.

Previously this would have been difficult with just my glass, but the void is able to help shuffle me up each step without accidentally leveling up my Fall Damage Resistance. The way the black tendrils snake their way up the steps is still creepy as fuck, but at least it’s a useful kind of creepy.

I make it a floor up without running into anyone. The spiral staircase continues higher, but I decide to check out the present landing first. I’m not totally sure, given the disorientation of my recent Mario Brothers adventure, but I think I’m back up to the same floor as Zyneth. If not, then I’m just below him.

This floor is much smaller. It appears to be a wide empty hallway that curves out of sight, presumably following the wall of the library. Once again, no one is in sight. Does no one take care of this place behind the scenes? Or am I in more of a space-between-the-walls type area that is only checked when something goes wrong? Guess it doesn’t really matter as long as I stay out of sight.

Just as I’m about to step out, movement flickers at the far end of the ceiling: a spider sentry. Unlike the ones I’d seen in the main portion of the library, however, this one is etched with glowing purple runes, emitting a beam of light which sweeps through the hall like a flashlight. It’s skittering right toward me, and I quickly shuffle back, slipping down the first stair for cover.

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It doesn’t appear overhead. After another moment, I peek my head back up; the sentry scuttled past the stairwell and is heading down the other curve of the hall. Close call.

Any idea how often those guys come by? I ask Echo, cautiously stepping out into the hall.

[Negative,] Echo says. [There is not enough data to predict their occurrence.]

Well you seem to know just about everything else, I say. She doesn’t reply.

Mentally sighing, I hurry down the hall. I’ll just have to hope I can find another corner to duck into when the next one comes by.

How does the sentry’s magic work? I ask as I walk. The hallway is empty, save for bubbly lights near the ceiling. There aren’t even doors on the walls. Is it too late to do an Inspect?

[Affirmative,] Echo says. [But such spells typically use pulses of nature magic to detect lifeforms and verify if the individuals are within a pre-established database.]

Damn. Then it sounds like even just getting Zyneth in here won’t be the end of our troubles: We still stand to get caught once inside. And of course, I stand to get caught now—assuming this sentry identifies me as “a lifeform.” I would rather not risk it either way.

Give me a head’s up when the next one is in range, I tell Echo.

[Affirmative.]

I walk for another minute or two—meaning, at this size, not very far—before I come across anything of note. There’s what looks like a door-knocker on the inside wall. It isn’t until I’m up close that I can tell it’s actually a handle in a door, barely discernible by the seam in the stone wall to either side.

There’s no key, just the handle—three feet off the ground. Ugh, I hate being small again. I attempt to grab it with my glass, but the little bit I have on me isn’t enough to push with any strength. The glass screeches as it slips over the surface; no grip, either. Reluctantly, I send a tendril of the void up to grab the handle. The latch clicks, and I pull. Slowly, the door grinds inward. Hm. Not wild about the usefulness of this void, but I guess I’ll take the wins where I can get them.

I keep pulling on the door and it slowly, glacially, slides open toward me. It doesn’t even feel really heavy, it just seems to move slow. Which is a problem when the next sentry appears at the end of the hall.

[Sentry detected,] Echo says.

Gee, thanks.

I anxiously look for somewhere to hide, but the walls are seamless—not even another stairwell. If I can make it out the door, maybe I’ll be safe, but it’s not even wide enough for me to slip through yet.

Crap crap crap. Can’t get anywhere in time. Can I take it down with my void? Maybe—it’s much bigger than me. A Void Whip might work. But if it doesn’t, I’m caught. What else have I got? Lightbeam, Glow, Inspect, Location, Bond Trace… Ah! That new spell I learned, Refraction. Echo, what’s the mana cost for disguising just my core with Refraction?

[1 mana per second. For larger bodies—]

Do it! I cry. I skip the tutorial and activate the spell.

My glass jumps between me and the sentry. They interlock with each other like a lattice of crystals, forming a shell. But it’s not just the glass—the voids move, too, layering over the glass and filling in all the cracks. Then, my mana activates.

Unlike Lightbeam, there’s only the tiniest flicker of light. It flows from my core into the surrounding glass and void, the whole structure rippling. And then, for a moment, it all seems to melt out of view.

The sentry passes by. A purple pulse of magic washes over me, illuminating my shell of glass and void. I tense, ready to flee or fight—but the sentry continues on. Once it vanishes down the hall, I end the Refraction spell, and the shell flickers back into view.

[Spell ended.]

Well shit, that’s useful as fuck. Still don’t have enough mana to use with my whole body, but if I only have to worry about my vial, it could be a life saver. Before it’s given the opportunity to save my life again, I decide to get the hell out of here.

I finish pulling the door open another few inches, and it’s finally enough for me to slip out. Instead of leaving immediately, however, I hover just inside, unenthused by the idea of the door closing while I’m in the way and getting slowly crushed to death. Like I had hoped, I’m looking back out onto the ground floor of the library.

I can’t see the fountain from this angle. I’m disoriented for a moment until I catch sight of the spiraling floor, and trace it to the ground level. Okay, the entrance is to my left. That means…

I edge forward a little more, and finally the fountain comes into view. I can make out Zyneth, too, just on the other side.

So, not where I expected to be. But hey, at least I’m on the right floor.

Now how the heck do I get him over here without letting the door shut behind me?

I try letting go of the handle, and the door begins to slide shut. Crap! I seize it with the void once more, holding it just a few inches from shutting, as I ponder what to do. It sure would be nice to have vocal chords. Barring that, I suppose my only option is to try to throw something in his direction. He’s about thirty feet away, and my glass only has a range of around eight. I could throw it from a height, hoping momentum would carry it the rest of the way. It will break once it hits the ground, though, and there’s no guarantee he would notice. What to do?

The predator stirs, smugness rippling from its mind. Its range is not nearly so limited. A few feet is nothing. Pathetic.

Oh yeah? Alright then. I grab the predator’s void, the creature hissing in protest. Leaving one tendril wrapped around the handle to keep the door from closing, I snake the rest of the void across the floor, stretching the shadow across the stone. It feels like stretching a spring. At first it’s easy, but the further the void gets from me, the more of an effort the movement takes. And then finally, it stops altogether. The predator emanates sadistic glee as it watches me strain, trying to get the shadows to move further, but they won’t extend beyond the range of my glass. I’m not even a quarter of the way to Zyneth.

What the heck? I ask Echo. I can feel the predator isn’t lying when it knows it can extend the shadows four times the length I managed. But why can’t I? Why can’t I make the void go further?

[The abilities of the magic are limited by the abilities of the user,] Echo says. [This may include finesse, complexity, and range of the manipulated magic.]

Meaning the predator’s better at manipulating void than me—hell, it’s made of the stuff.

The predator, of course, is very pleased as I come to this realization. Even if it’s the weaker mind, it’s still the more powerful magic user.

Congratulations, I say. You’re more practiced than someone who started learning magic two months ago. Really impressive.

Although not for the first time, it has me wondering what Level the predator really is. Just in case, I try again, but as always Echo is only able to produce a bunch of junk data. Everything is just Div/0, whatever that means.

At any rate, none of this helps me figure out how to get Zyneth’s attention.

The predator stirs again. It could do it. It has the range.

I examine the predator with extreme suspicion. You want to help me?

The predator eagerly surges forward. Of course. Yes. It can do what I wish. It can alert the cambion, very easily. If I just give it back its void.

If I just let it take control.