We fall into a routine. The weirdest kind of routine. During the day, Zyneth works on figuring out the controls of the sub while I tinker with my glass magic; or he and I experiment with strengthening my glass and making new fulgurite; or I head out into the water and the predator helps me try to nudge the ship in whatever direction and orientation Zyneth calls for. Then at night, of course, the predator takes over, and we spend our time prowling the waters, slaughtering any creatures who venture too close, and collecting more sand for our body.

You know, the normal ways people spend their free time.

The fulgurite proves interesting to work with. We’ve gotten the process down to a science, and Zyneth and I can produce a few sticks of the sandy glass each day—without sandblasting the inside of the submarine. They’re all slightly different colors. Some are more yellow, and some are more gray, and some are more brown. It must have to do with wherever we dug up the sand from the night before, and whatever else got mixed in. Once I get some pieces Attuned, I start sculpting them into different shapes and testing their strengths. Fresh from Zyneth’s lightning, they’re pretty fragile, and some break when I first pick them up. But once Sculpted—once I smooth out all the tiny veins and irregularities and try to squish them into one solid mass—they’re stronger than my un-tempered glass. I use it to patch up my body and replace some of the glass I lost back in Emrox.

“But what’s interesting is that the glass that comes from fulgurite doesn’t work with my Refraction spell,” I tell Zyneth. “I guess the glass has to be transparent for that spell to work. Which makes sense, it’s the play of refraction from the glass and shadows from the void that produces the camouflage effect—but it’s still interesting, because the spell description doesn’t mention anything about the glass needing to be clear.”

Zyneth is smiling faintly as I explain my latest discovery to him. “Yes. Very interesting.”

I pause. “Wait. Are you just indulging me?”

He puts a hand on his chest. “Me? Never.”

“Ha ha. Well, sorry if my glass ramblings are boring you.”

Zyneth catches my hand. “It’s not boring me. I was just enjoying watching you be excited about something.”

Am I excited? I guess I am, a bit. All this experimenting with the sand and heat has been, dare I say, (while trapped beneath the ocean and three inches of metal away from an untimely second death,) kind of fun! Despite never sleeping, it almost seems like there aren’t enough hours in the day for everything I want to try. My mana refills faster now with the new class upgrade—and another level up I gained thanks to the predator’s nightly patrols—but even I occasionally hit empty, at which point I switch to reading the sign language book I’d purchased in Miasmere and practice new words.

“And what do you get excited about?” I ask Zyneth. “You know, when you’re not trapped in a submarine.”

“Well on the rare occasion that occurs,” Zyneth says, his eyes laughing, “I rather enjoy working on Artificing projects. Imbuing objects with spells, practicing with my blades.” His hand goes to the sheaths I’d gotten for him at his side, one of which is empty. “I guess I’ll be needing to make another one when we get back to land.”

I feel a pang of regret for losing it in the chaos of Emrox’s collapse. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” Zyneth says. “It allowed you to escape the predator’s influence, which saved both of our lives. I’d trade a blade for a life in a heartbeat.”

Even so, I’ll find a way to make it up to him. “About your artificing. You were able to temporarily imbue me with some spells before, which strengthened my core when I was in the water. Do you think you could do something like that again?”

“Sure,” Zyneth says. “We’ve plenty of parchment and charcoal left. I can draw up some new circles.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” I fidget, spinning a piece of signing glass around my fingers. “What about something more permanent? Could you etch a circle into my glass?”

Zyneth raises his eyebrows. “I mean, I suppose I could. I’m… somewhat hesitant to try, as I’ve never worked in that medium, and the spell circles often need to be tweaked for whatever object they’re going to infuse with a spell.”

I tip my head. “You can’t just copy that same spell circle from the parchment onto some of my glass?”

Zyneth shakes his head. “The paper spell circles are temporary. It’s more of a conduit than true artificing. It allows me to channel my magic through the circle and into the target object—which was why it was so draining for me to do. However, once imbued, artificing does not draw on the user’s mana. Like the spells in your jacket or boots.”

“Right,” I say, recalling a similar lecture Zyneth had given me back in the markets of Miasmere. Was that really only a month ago? It feels like a year. “It’s like a battery. And once the spell is out of energy, the circle stops working until it can be charged up again. Is that a problem? Can’t you charge the spell circle once it’s etched into my glass?”

“I could. It would just take some time; you won’t get out more than you put in. Which is why it’s wise to design a circle that can be charged by your own arcana type, so you don’t have to go pay an artificer to charge the spell back up again once it runs out. That’s not possible with all spells, but that’s where the art in artificing comes in.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“You mean you think you could design a spell circle that I could charge up myself?” I ask. “That would be amazing.”

“No promises,” Zyneth says. “Are you looking for any effect in particular?”

I splay my hands. “I was thinking specifically something that would assist with ‘not risking death every time I trip over that one step onto the main deck.’”

Zyneth chuckles. “Durability, then.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I’ll look into it,” Zyneth says. “I’ll need to borrow some pieces of glass from you to practice on, though. And you probably won’t be getting them back in one piece.”

“Not a problem. Patching up broken pieces of glass is basically ninety percent of what I do.”

Zyneth smiles wryly. “Are you sure ninety percent of what you do isn’t dragging me into trouble?”

“Ouch!” I put a hand over my chest, feigning offense. Okay, just a little offended. “I’m turning over a new leaf! No more secrets. No more impulsive decision making.”

Zyneth raises an amused eyebrow.

“No more impulsive decision making without talking about it first,” I amend.

“You’d think that part would come naturally, given how much you seem to enjoy hearing yourself talk.”

“Rude!” I playfully punch him in the shoulder.

Zyneth flinches back, sucking in a breath as he puts a hand over his arm.

I snap my hand away from him, alarmed. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn’t think it was that hard.”

Had I hit harder than I intended? Had the void somehow done that? No, I would still feel it if there were more power behind the blow—and Echo would have said something if I dealt any damage. I barely tapped him. It was supposed to be a joke.

Unless I hadn’t caused a new injury, but accidentally hit an old one. He’s still healing from the Emrox battle with the predator.

“Oh, god,” I say, realizing what I must have done. “Your injuries—I’m sorry. I should be more careful.”

“No, no,” Zyneth says, smoothing out his sleeve as he runs a hand down his arm. “It’s not your fault. Please, bear it no mind.” He tugs at the end of the sleeve, as if to pull it a little bit lower.

Something about that gesture catches my attention. Was he injured where I hit him? The predator used my glass to stab him in several places across his body, but none of them were in the side of his arm. All the glass hit him from the front. I should know: I dug each and every piece out of him.

“Zyneth,” I say, suspicion creeping in. “It’s not really from your previous injuries, is it?”

Zyneth hesitates, which is all the confirmation I need.

“Are you hiding something?” I ask, baffled. “And after all that mocking I received for doing the same!”

“To be fair, every time you held something back, it only caused trouble,” Zyneth says.

“Oh, and this won’t?” I ask.

He grimaces. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“That sounds familiar,” I remark.

Zyneth lets out a sigh. Then he gingerly rolls up his sleeve.

One of his tattoos is glowing.

“Oh,” I say, the implications slowly clicking into place. “Oh, no.”

The two remaining tattoos on his arm represent the debts he’s accrued from various blackmarket dealers, like Gillow. And when one of them lights up, someone’s calling in a favor. Only Zyneth wouldn’t be able to answer, because he’s trapped beneath the ocean.

“When did it start?” I ask.

“A few days ago,” Zyneth reluctantly answers.

“Is there any way you can stop it? Cancel the request?”

Zyneth shakes his head. “Only the dealer can stop it. And they might, in another week or so, once they realize I’m not coming. I can tolerate it for now.”

“What happens if you don’t answer? I ask.

Zyneth gestures to the tattoo: it’s a stylized snake eating its own tail, with its body broken up into ten different segments. He taps one of them. “It will grow another link in the chain. Interest, you can call it. In the meantime, the mark will continue to burn more incessantly in an attempt to get my attention. It’s usually not this bad,” he adds. “It must be the distance. Or perhaps the spell knows I’m making no effort to fulfill the request.”

Something about that sounds eerily familiar. Back when I was first summoned to be a servant to Trenevalt, the Role Requirement had forced me into actions I had no interest in doing. If I tried to refuse, my sanity metric would plummet. But if I was at least trying to fulfill a command, my sanity stayed level. Is there some connection between the magic that has given me a Role I’m compelled to fulfill, and the magic that compels Zyneth to pay off his debts?

Not a question I can find an answer to now, but a question that maybe deserves some attention when we have more resources at our disposal.

“Trying to get back to land might help lessen the effects, then,” I say. “We should go try it now. I can head out into the water and start nudging the submarine toward the surface, and you can steer and give me directions from inside.”

The predator drifts to the forefront of my mind, catching a whiff of my excitement and determination, if not completely understanding where it’s coming from. It can tell I’m intending to use a lot of void, which makes it eager to join in.

“I’ll go grab all the new glass I’ve Attuned,” I add. “It will be good to practice with some of the rougher pieces. See how they fare once put to use. And now I’ll have a better glass-to-void ratio to work with, so I might be more effective.”

Zyneth shakes his head at me with a smile.

“What?” I ask. “I’m serious!”

“I know,” he says. “And I appreciate it. Not all of your impulsive decisions are bad ones.”

“That’s because I’m talking about it, first,” I tease.

He rolls his sleeve back down, looking at me with that ever faint, ever present amusement. “Well, what are we waiting for? No sense in burning daylight.”