The void roars around us as we dive after him. Our magic wraps around his torso as we yank him back up onto the shelf. Triumph erupts through us. We saved him. We’re free. We marvel at this power, this body, as both are new, and both are familiar. We reach for more of ourself to pull from this pocket of Between—but the way is blocked. We block it. Irritation and relief—we tense for a fight, but the world around us is crumbling. A fight to have another time. Right now, right now, too much is happening. We let our inventory go.

“...nin! Kanin!” Something grabs our arm. “Gods. Are you in there?”

We look down at the cambion. Fear flickers in his eyes, dust and sweat and blood coating his skin. “Zyneth.” It’s a struggle to even get that word out.

His face floods with relief. “Thank the gods. We need to get out of here. We’ll deal with—with all that later. Please, we must hurry.”

With what?

He’s tugging on our arm, but the force feels insignificant. We almost flick him aside, but stop at the last moment. No! No, we can’t hurt Zyneth. Anyone but him.

Anyone?

Concentrate. Think. The mission. The crystal. Yedzaquib and Raz. Sluggishly, it all comes into focus. A plan crystalizes as our minds fall into lockstep. We understand what we need to do.

And we leap into action.

“Wait, no!” Zyneth cries as we jump back into the room. We catch one of the spider threads still hanging from a wall and use it to swing toward the ceiling, where we use a claw of void to dig into its surface. This glass body of ours is too heavy for the void to lift completely, but we can at least make it light and limber. And the shape gives the rest of our void structure. Purpose. Yes. This body will work fine.

We leap and swing between the ceiling, wall, and lines of spider thread, clearing the room in seconds. With the fields down, the arcana crystal is now exposed, and we don’t even stop as we swipe it from its nook, already turning back toward Zyneth. A dark chasm stretches beneath us, and thrill flutters through us at the sight.

One of the lines snaps within our grasp. Our soul lurches as we fall, but we catch ourself on another strand. That one too fizzles out and breaks.

We leap back, digging a void-encased claw into the wall as Yedzaquib reaches from the dark. He’s clinging to his webs a floor down, using his razor-sharp limbs to snap the lines we’d been trying to traverse. It’s the first time we’ve seen his face contorted with rage.

“Clearly my previous offer was too generous,” the spider hisses. “When you and your friend have been added to my collection, I will not be nearly so delicate with your minds as I had planned.”

If that’s supposed to convince us to turn ourselves over, it certainly doesn’t.

But the arachnoid does have the right idea about one thing. Mirroring Yedzaquib, our void splits into several more limbs, one of which grabs the arcana crystal to tuck behind our back, while two others stab themselves into the wall to keep us braced, leaving our claws free to fight.

Wait—we can’t win this fight.

We can. We’re more powerful than it.

We shake our head—in disagreement, or trying to clear the fog, we are not sure. Getting out of here with Zyneth and the crystal is top priority. We need to flee.

We dislike this idea very much. Prey flees. We are a predator.

Yet, we relent.

There’s another few lines to our right, outside Yedzaquib’s range. If we can get over there, we should be able to swing to a ledge near Zyneth, then claw our way across the wall if needed. Just as we tense for the first jump, Yedzaquib strikes.

A blur of white cuts through the dust, this time stabbing straight toward us. We jerk to the side, catching it with one of our claws as it stabs into the wall behind us. Before it can withdraw, we swing ourself up to land on top of the limb, then use it to jump for the next line. As we do, we constrict the void around its leg, spinning and stabbing inward with all the strength we can muster. Our ink slices through the exoskeleton, and the leg falls into the abyss as Yedzaquib screams. The sound is high pitched and unearthly.

Satisfaction flows through us as we leap away. See? We didn’t fight.

Zyneth takes a step back when we land on the stairwell seconds later, his face a mix of awe and fear. “Gods above. Are you sure it’s really you?”

“Yes.” We shove him forward with one of our extra void limbs. “No time. Run!”

With Yedzaquib shrieking behind us, Zyneth doesn’t need a second prodding, and we do not wait for him.

As we flee, the crystal in our grasp pulses with warmth and the promise of power. Hunger claws at us, eager to consume this source of magic, too, but we are reminded of the last times we tapped into the circuit. Not to mention, we still have plenty of magic stored in our void for us to consume later. Good. That satiates us for now.

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“...up through the way we came in,” Zyneth is saying. We hadn’t realized he had started talking. Our mind is still everywhere at once, but we try to focus. “If we’re lucky, all those relics on the loose will slow him down. If we’re unlucky, they’ll slow us down. Hopefully, they’ll remember who put them in here.”

Relics? Even as we wonder, something small zips past us through the air—it looks like a glowing green arrow. The weapon pauses mid-flight, as if considering us, before vanishing on its way.

The barriers. Not just the barriers on our floor, but all of them are down. Meaning all the dangerous items they held are now free.

“Watch out,” Zyneth cries as something else rockets straight toward our head.

We deftly catch it out of the air: a small silver ring.

I can give you riches, words suddenly appear in our mind. Power. Charm. Whatever it is you desire. Together we can—

We fling the ring away, where it strikes a wall, bounces against the ground, and then begins rolling up the slope. Another voice in our head is the last thing we need.

As we run, Zyneth is stabbing every spider sentry he sees, cutting their lines whenever they’re in reach. We begin to do the same, and with our void’s reach, we are much more effective at it. We suspect this will let Yedzaquib know exactly where we are, but as long as he remains preoccupied, there is little he can do about it.

Finally, we find a staircase that takes us up instead of down, and we begin to climb. We race ahead of Zyneth, running along four of our void limbs instead of our mere two glass ones, and take the stairs five at a time. Water is rushing down the steps, which means we must be getting close. Sure enough, in another few spirals, we skid out onto the level just below the ground floor, the room full of water pools. Cracks have crisscrossed the whole room, spilling water over the floor and down several passages. The center of the room sags ominously.

Zyneth appears behind us, breathing hard. “Just one more floor. This blasted place has me all turned around. Can you tell which of these passages leads up?”

Just then, a figure rockets through one of the room’s openings. Raz is barely recognizable, covered in half a dozen spider sentinels that are in the process of trying to tie him up. His flames propel him through the air as he lets out a defiant roar, then explodes with a burst of light and hot wind as he punches through the ceiling. Light cascades into the room from the hole he leaves behind.

“Well,” Zyneth says, “I suppose that works too.”

We race for the exit. Yedzaquib’s bellows of rage echo from the side passage where Raz had appeared, but we cross the room in seconds. The rubble makes a staircase halfway up to the hole above, and we hook two of our void claws through the exit, ready to pull ourself from the spider’s lair.

Zyneth is still only halfway here. He’s too slow—Yedzaquib will beat him to the exit. We can still escape, though, we have time to—

No! We won’t repeat ourself again. We aren’t leaving here without him!

With a frustrated growl, we let go of the ledge and drop back to the rubble, just as Yedzaquib crashes into the room.

The spider’s composure is gone. Black ichor drips from the leg we severed, while burn marks are scorched across wide swaths of his previously-gleaming white body. He’s suffered other cuts, bruises, and strange poison-like marks as well—at least some of the enchanted weapons have found him. He might be dozens of levels above us, but he’s taken a lot of damage. Our claws twitch. Now can we fight?

Yedzaquib’s chest is heaving as he takes one step into the room, then pauses to take in the scene. Zyneth skids to a stop at the base of the rubble. He’d have to turn his back on the spider in order to climb. The three of us all stand frozen in place.

Like a light switch has been flipped, the monstrous expression on Yedzaquib’s face smooths into placid disappointment. The change is unsettlingly fast.

“I see the fire mage has already found a way out.” He clasps his hands. “A shame. You two will be required to pay the debt he has incurred.”

Why isn’t he attacking? He didn’t hesitate before. His two front feet tap nervously against the floor, as if he wants to move forward, but he still doesn’t press into the room.

Because he’s too heavy. The floor is already sagging in the middle and he doesn’t want a repeat of the last room. Is now our chance?

“No response?” Yedzaquib quirks an eyebrow. “And you two were so talkative before. And the homunculus… I see you’ve upgraded your look. Or am I speaking to the remnant?”

Remnant? We don’t know what he’s talking about.

But why is he still talking? He must have some plan, even if he isn’t going to enter the room himself. If we tried to leap through the gap now, could he stop us? Would it be a trap?

Something moves in the shadows behind us. Ah, there—spiders. He’s stalling.

Which means it’s time to go.

“Such a fragile vessel you currently inhabit,” he continues. “A pity you’re tethered to its soul. But I could offer you a stronger one.”

Oh? What does he mean?

No, it doesn’t matter. Lightbeam.

Nothing happens. Half of us is holding the mana back, curious.

Yedzaquib places a hand on his chest. “Me. A stronger mind, body, well of magic. You would be far more powerful working with me.”

Hunger rumbles through us. Yes, power. Magic. We crave it.

Lightbeam. We try to push through the mental fog, reaching for the spell, Lightbeam!

The spiders are creeping closer. Our window of escape is closing.

“All you have to do is stay right there,” Yedzaquib says, “and allow me to kill your host.”

The spiders behind us fire their tethers, straight at our soul.

Anger courses through us. Kill us? Kills us? How dare he. We are the hunter, not the hunted. Nothing can kill our soul. We won’t allow it.

We leap above the spider threads, grabbing one from the air and stabbing it into the ceiling as we sever its line. The cut end dangles down toward Zyneth.

“Fool,” we say, simmering with indignation. The voice burbles from the translator in a dark, distorted tone. Our minds snap together as we gather all our signing glass, any bits of broken glass—everything that’s free-floating in our void, not attached to our body. They tessellate into place like a living fractal.

[...ating Lightbeam.]

The spell fires.

Light sears through the room, evaporating the spider threads, crashing into Yedzaquib’s face. He screams as the light burns into all eight of his unblinking eyes, and we pour everything, everything, we have into the attack. The spiders behind us attack, uncoordinated, and we catch them with a dozen limbs of void, crunching the bodies into the ceiling and floor. Yedzaquib recoils into his passage, howling in pain, and we don’t stop the attack, even then.

[...depleted…]

By the time the spell ends, Zyneth is already up the line, and all that’s left of Yedzaquib are the echoes of his retreat. Zyneth is looking back down at us in fear, which twists our soul. No time to dwell on it now. We pull ourself from the hole and up into the chaos of the library.