People are screaming, patrons streaming toward the exit. There are City Guards about as well, approaching the hole carved in the middle of the floor, but they jump back in surprise when we emerge. We sweep past them before they have a chance to decide if they want to detain us. Two belatedly follow, but we dive into the crowd and lose them.

This form is not exactly subtle. The second people see us, they scatter, tripping over each other to avoid our limbs of void. We need to find somewhere deserted to shake any chance of the guards or Yedzaquib tracing our retreat.

But when we break through the front doors, it’s a sea of people in every direction.

The hunger claws at us once more. So many souls. Our void tenses in anticipation.

Shit. “Need to get away,” we say to Zyneth. Even as we speak, the translator resists us, as if it’s having trouble parsing our thoughts. “Away from people. Quickly.”

Zyneth doesn’t break his stride, dashing to the left and around a merchant cart. “This way!”

We follow.

We know this has gone on for too long. We know this is dangerous. The hunger is rising, and it scares us, because we don’t know how much longer we’ll stay in control. We’re barely hanging on as it is. We need to separate, before we no longer can.

Another part of us resists. No: Why stop this? We’re more powerful together. The void and glass complement each other. Merged, this body is far stronger, and it takes both of us to make that happen. We could remain like this—permanently.

Permanent. The word shakes us.

We stumble, hardly aware of our surroundings, and blindly shove a woman out of the way with one of our shadow limbs, just trying to focus on following Zyneth’s retreating form. It feels like a vice is tightening around our soul. Panic rises inside us, even as a soothing calm tries to snuff it out. We don’t let it suppress our emotions. We hold tightly onto our fear.

“Zyneth,” we call. There are still people about, but we don’t know if we can continue much farther. We can’t keep using the void to help us escape while simultaneously trying to fight it. We try to reign the shadows in, and lurch into a wall.

“Zyneth,” we try again, slumping against the stone. Our glass screeches against the rough surface, but we don’t push off. We don’t have the willpower to move anymore.

A hand grabs our arm. “What? What is it? I’m here.”

Malice sweeps through us at the touch, and we barely hold back from stabbing out at the intruder. No, we don’t need him. Leave us!

“Help,” we say, reeling all the void back in. We dissolve all the extra limbs, pulling the shadows in tight to keep them from attacking anyone else. The arcana crystal slips from our grasp as we do this, but Zyneth catches it. Part of us seethes as we watch him tuck the powerful magic source away. That’s ours!

“What do you need?” Zyneth asks. He looks around in concern. “We can’t stop here. There’s still too many people around.”

We know, but it’s getting harder to move—we’ve made it harder for ourself to move. But if we just stopped fighting, if we just embraced it—

“It will not let us go,” we say, leaning into Zyneth’s hold. We feel so much heavier now, unable to maintain focus on our glass limbs. “We are losing control.”

“Come,” Zyneth says, pulling one of my arms over his shoulder. His chest is pressed against my void. His soul is only inches from our reach. It would be so easy to take it. “Hurry. Can you make it to an alley?”

We don’t reply—it takes everything we have to just stumble along next to him and not rip his soul from his chest. Oh god. We’re going to kill him.

Not Zyneth, we beg. Not him. He’s our friend. Our ally.

We consider this, rolling these new concepts around in our mind. Allies help you achieve your goals. Possibly useful.

For now, we decide to leave Zyneth be. Our mental struggle is taking more of our attention, anyway.

“Here,” Zyneth says, lowering me to the ground. We’re in some sort of grimy alcove behind a building. We can still hear the bustle of city life around us. It frightens and excites us.

“Not far enough,” we say. We try to struggle to our feet, but Zyneth takes our hands and pulls us back down.

“No,” he says. “I need you to pull yourself together. Right here. Right now. You can’t go on like this.”

We try to pull our mind apart again, but it clings to us triumphantly. Despair and horror overtake us. “We cannot. It is stronger than us.”

“You can,” Zyneth says. “I know you can, because you’re talking to me right now. That’s Kanin talking, not some monster. That’s proof you’re stronger.” He squeezes my hands. “That’s why I know it’s safe to be here right now. I trust you.”

We shake our head. “Not safe.”

Zyneth’s voice softens. “Calm down. It’ll be alright. You’re going to get through this.”

How? We can’t escape it. It won’t let us go. We knew better. We knew better and we let it happen anyway.

“One of my little sisters used to get panic attacks,” Zyneth says. The words are so unexpected, it briefly jars us from our spiraling. He has a little sister? More than one? “I’d help her through them. I’d tell you to take deep breaths, but I suspect that might be difficult at the moment.”

He smiles faintly at his own joke. “Are you watching me? Good. Let’s work through some options. Can you Attune the void?”

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The void recoils at the suggestion, dropping our core. The world lurches and spins, even as we realize our mistake—but instead of crashing to the street, we fall into Zyneth’s hands.

“I take that as a yes,” he says, looking down at me.

We roil with anger. Bluff. He tricked us!

We gather our mind enough to force a Check. It feels like thinking through molasses, but eventually, Echo’s words come to us.

[Mana: 0/56.]

[Bonus Mana: 0]

[Predator Time Limit: 24.9 hours]

[Predator Influence: 31%]

“No mana,” we say. We drained it all with that final blow against Yedzaquib. But we also notice the Predator Influence stat: it’s less than 50%. It’s not stronger than us. We’re still the dominant mind. That brings us a modicum of relief.

“Alright then.” Zyneth cradles our core in his hands. “You’ll have to do it the hard way. Have you calmed down yet? This will require self-discipline.”

Never one of our strong suits. It’s all we can do to keep our instincts at bay. To stop us from tearing ourself from Zyneth’s grasp and leaving to stalk easier prey. We don’t like this influence the cambion seems to have over us. We need to get away from him.

So we tighten our grasp on his hand instead, desperate to stay close.

“Relax,” Zyneth says. “Count slowly from ten if you need to.”

We try, but the moment we start to relax our mind, we can feel other intentions swirling eagerly to the surface. We flinch away in fear; instead of relaxing, we tense up.

“You are trying to control everything at once,” Zyneth says. “The glass, the void, the predator. One thing at a time. Try again: Relax.”

The glass, at least, we can let go of. The predator has no control over that. We cautiously loosen our grip on the glass, and our body slumps forward. Zyneth catches us. He’s always there to catch us.

“Good,” he says. “Now, find your center. You need a stable foundation. Concentrate on what you want, and manifest it.”

We focus on our core. On the stable presence of Zyneth’s hands against our vial. Echo’s stats: 31% she said. Less than half, which means we are still mostly us. We can do this. We have to.

We begin to search for the seams in our consciousness.

Anger lashes through us in retaliation. No! We don’t need to part. We can remain like this. We are stronger—stronger!

But when have we ever cared about strength? We pick at a thread and are met with painful resistance. Yet, we continue to pull.

Our mind stretches apart slowly, reluctantly, painfully. The break doesn’t feel clean. Bits of it clings to us, tearing at our essence as we pry its grip away. The predator lashes and fights, furious with us—furious with its own failure. Because Zyneth was right: We are stronger. I am stronger.

Only barely.

The final strand snaps away, and I feel like I’ve just come up for air after choking on seawater. Everything aches—glass, mind, and soul. I try to push myself up, and my body rattles from the effort.

“Kanin?” Zyneth asks.

“Yes,” I say, shakily. “I am me. You saved me.”

“I suppose that makes us even,” Zyneth says. “Though I’d argue you did all the hard work.”

Wearily, I lean back. The predator isn’t gone. It’s not even contained. It’s just retreated a few paces, watching and waiting for the best moment to strike.

And it’s bigger now. Much bigger. Before, the predator had only taken up 5% of my mind. It was still over 90% “me” in here. Now, it’s less than 70% me. Which makes the predator several times more powerful than it had been before. I’m still technically the dominant mind, but if it accesses my inventory again, I won’t be for much longer.

“Are you good?” Zyneth says as I sit there, caught up in my thoughts.

“I am anything but good right now,” I say. “But I am in control.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Zyneth says.

There’s a tightness to his voice that wasn’t there before. The fondness and relief replaced with something sharper. Is he still worried about me?

Zyneth’s gaze darkens with a glare. “Because we need to get out of here before you make a mess of anything else.”

Nope, he’s just pissed.

He’s earned that, really.

“If it means anything, I am sorry,” I say, climbing stiffly to my feet. I hesitantly feed some of the void back into my joints, keeping a keen eye on the predator as I do so. Having the void wrapped around my body like this definitely leaves me vulnerable to the predator if it tries to seize control, but I need the null magic to move properly, especially if we need to go quickly.

The rest of the void—and there’s a lot more of it now—I try to hide beneath my cloak. If no one looks closely, it might just seem like especially dark shadows. “I did not mean to let it take control.”

Zyneth’s moved to the edge of the alley, where he’s carefully watching the nearby streets, but he pauses to shoot me a disbelieving look.

“I swear upon the gods, Kanin.” He looks back out to the streets. “Sometimes I think you’re a magical prodigy, and other times you act like a complete idiot.”

“Um,” I say, following him as he ducks back into the road. “Thanks?”

“I don’t blame you for getting possessed by that monster,” Zyneth continues, slipping through the crowd. I struggle to keep pace, but he doesn’t seem particularly keen on waiting for me. “Or semi-possessed—or whatever it was that just happened. I understand desperation was a factor. But I do blame you for putting us in that situation in the first place. Both of us nearly lost our lives. The Athenaeum is destroyed. Yedzaquib will be out for your head. All for what… a downpayment on more trouble with Gillow?”

I don’t respond. I know he’s right. This was a very stupid idea, executed in a terrible way. Yet. Yet. I can’t turn back now. Now that we have the crystal, we’re so close to getting to Emrox. My first real shot at getting my body back. And I have to get rid of the predator now more than ever. It’s just a matter of time before I’ll slip up again and it will be waiting to take control. And once there’s more of it than there is of me, I don’t know if there will be any coming back.

“Thank you,” I eventually say to Zyneth. “For not rubbing it—”

“I told you so!” The words burst from him in a fit of anger. “I told you it was a bad idea!”

“I take it back.” And I’m also a little taken aback. He really is pissed.

“I just wish you would listen to me when I give you advice,” Zyneth says, storming through the streets. “Especially where others are concerned. When will you get it through that thick glass of yours that your actions affect those around you? When will you understand that you have friends who don’t wish to see you self-destructing this way?”

“Self-destruct?” I object. “That is an overstatement.”

“Is it?” he asks. “Noli and I talked about this. Anytime a friend is in danger, you throw yourself in front of them, like you’ve got some kind of martyr complex. But then when we try to help you, you run away. Like you’re running away now.”

His words are a slap. I didn’t know he and Noli had been talking about me. “I am not running away.”

“You sure?” he says. “Because Emrox has always been a stretch. You haven’t even been willing to look into alternatives.”

“Because I do not have time—”

“No—you had decided this before the predator was becoming an issue,” Zyneth says. “Because you’d already made up your mind: Even without the predator in the picture, you didn’t want to stay.”

His words sting, but they also stir irritation within me. “Is that so bad? Is it so selfish to want to go home?”

Now it’s Zyneth’s turn to pause. We’ve woven blocks away from the library by now, the crowds murmuring with rumors of a disturbance, but no one watches us as we hurry on our way.

He sighs. “Just tell me why.” He looks at me with a weary gaze, all the fight gone out of him. “Is it loved ones? Friends and family?”

I think of my estranged dad. My string of exes. My coworkers, who I’d only met when I’d started filming Cryptid Hunter, whose faces are already fading from my memory.

“No,” I admit. “Not for the people.” I tap my hand against my chest, glass clinking against glass. “You are right. Maybe I am selfish. I just want my body back. That is all I want. For as long as I can remember, that was the one thing I could take pride in. The one thing I took care of. My identity—my career—my body is me. It is all I have left.”

“No,” Zyneth says, pointing at my core—my soul. “You’ve much more than you think.”

But he leaves it at that, and as we approach our inn, I’m more than happy to let the conversation die.