TREY LIVED IN TWO WORLDS—and both of them were trouble.

As a blue ghost, Trey witnessed both the physical world and the shadowed world laid on top of it. The vast framework of cursed energies was as real as the trees and birds. He found it difficult to adjust to, but he had to do it. With failure came consequences he couldn’t begin to quantify. All he knew was that death was only the start, and that punishments and the end of said punishments were up to Ruby.

Success, acclimation, and acceptance were his only choices. But there were twice the physics to account for. Twice the entities. Twice the dangers. The world—the worlds—were more complex than he’d expected. But there was one truth that Trey could reliably apply to both the shadow and physical world: don’t get shot.

Phooft! A blackwheat arrow.

Jeez, Bristles is relentless…

But as Trey flew away, he took solace in the fact that his body was out of sight. It was no small relief that he could maneuver without having to babysit himself. He knew his [Heart Strings] were accurately—though clumsily—guiding his vessel toward Swishy. His heart was in the right place, the straw-bound place, and so Trey kept the faith alive.

But Bristles had almost immediately found him—the noisy progress of Trey’s body tipping off their location.

So blue soul Trey spent the past several minutes, shooting [Zzt] orbs at Bristles and leading him away from his physical body.

Bristles shot and shot and shot and shot—and Trey dodged, thankful for the ghosthood that allowed him to swirl and bend and creatively avoid Bristles’ sniper-like aim. The last few arrows were exactly on target, flying toward Trey’s head. But Trey phased backward into the nearest tree as several blackwheat darts jammed into the bark. The Clayborne stared into the cluster of blackwheat tips. Each arrow radiated hexed energy. Trey inhaled deeply, as much as a soul reasonably could.

“You know I hate you, right?” Trey yelled from inside the tree.

“Likewise, dear fool.” Bristles stepped into the clearing and casually nocked an arrow. He drew the string as far back as it would go, charging the energy and tension. He fired the arrow, blasting a hole clean through the bark—but Trey had disappeared by then, having silently delved into the shaded forest.

A breather, a momentary one at least. Trey took this brief second to figure out how to find Swishy. His logic train told him that he’d find his body and Swishy all in one go, that his soulless body would complete its mission. He closed his eyes and concentrated, figuring that his soul had to know where his body was.

There!

A soulful trail became visible to Trey then, a thin blue smoke, a tether of sorts leading from his ghostly chest to his flesh-and-bone form.

As he glided along the tether’s path, a humongous shadow cast over Trey and the entire section of forest he occupied. Something huge had conjured with gigantic drama, taller-than-the-trees drama, flying-wheat-forming-into-a-mega-sized-scarecrow drama. A massive scarecrow overhead—what he assumed to be Swishy’s largest [Boy Balloon] yet—peaked its head above the treetops, presiding over the Stormcellar.

The intent became as thick and noticeable as the zeppelin LEDs of the old city. He learned its true name then: STRAW GUARDIAN.

Swishy’s dramatic entrance encouraged Trey—then worried him. As soon as the guardian was erected, he noticed the reason for such a spell: three black stakes plowing through the monument. A trio of flighted monsters, six wings apiece, screeched in sadistic delight. They smiled; they emitted open-beaked cackles; they, presumably, spewed mockery

What are THOSE? Please don’t be wrathravens…Oh Lord, those are wrathravens.

“ZIP,” Trey whispered. The nearest shadows slid around his feet and arms and head, molding into the essence of speed. He flew through the woods toward the guardian, phasing through every surface, every animal, confident that Swishy and his body were within the guardian. He was as fast as he could go, becoming speed itself. He became certain of his escape—yet the arrows kept coming, destroying clusters of foliage around him.

How the hell is he finding me?

He turned around and saw the method behind the madness, the reason why Bristles was able to keep up with [Zip].

Using a slavetalon for each shoulder, Bristles ordered them to lift him with their talons. The birds flew after Trey, granting Bristles an effective vantage point.

“I don’t have wings—yet.” Bristles gloated as he loaded another arrow. “But I have support.”

Trey propelled himself in a straight line through every tree. [Zip] was in full effect, turning Trey’s ghostly floatation into an arrow of its own. His body stretched into a thin string of blue light as he phased through trees and boulders and shrubbery. The arrows destroyed everything in Trey’s wake, debris and dust spraying upward with each explosive impact.

Bristles’ shots chased him from area to area. There was so much dust around he couldn’t tell where he was. But thank goodness for being ethereal—even through all the noise and disturbed dirt he knew he was on the right track. His soul itched from the radiating dread from Swishy’s direction, from the imposing [Straw Guardian] under siege.

Trey glided beneath the forest canopies, out-speeding the arrows, phasing through the explosive debris. Yet Bristles, wearing the slavetalons on his shoulders, disguised his true location by flying amid the treetops. He rained down his destructive ranged attacks from one ambiguous location or another. But Trey wouldn’t falter. He couldn’t. He was singularly focused on speeding toward the ginormous scarecrow in the distance.

Meanwhile, the arrow rain slammed down around Trey, blinding him with a hurricane of leaves and twigs and dust. Trey phased through the various explosions of debris, eyes on the [Straw Guardian] prize. But he couldn’t help noticing the dozens of snitchtalon nests and perches that were destroyed by the Bristles volley. The squawking cacophony echoed through the woods as some birds flew off in chaotic clusters—while others flopped through the air from direct hits.

One of the snitchtalons escapees darted over and then through Trey’s head in extreme ire. Your loud ass brought him here! Die by yourself, don’t bring us into it!

“You were already in it when he enslaved your cousins.”

The bird shoved his beak inside of Trey’s ghostly eat and angrily CACAW’d—but to no effect, no physical eardrums to injure. But Trey shooed him away, instantly angered by the viciousness of the gesture.

“Fine! Throw a tantrum! I’m tired of you asshole two-pieces, anyway.”

And we’re tired of you, BONELESS. How’d you even lose your vessel again? Hopeless, so hopeless. And then snitchtalon flew off like a wind chime—the earrings of Clayhearth gold clanged loudly upon their wing tips.

“I did this on purpose, you pigeon. On purpose! It’s called a technique!”

The bird circled back around and dropped a deuce on Trey, the white globs phasing through him.

“Did you just shit on my soul?”

And I’ll do it again, bitch!

Trey brandished his zix-zhooter fingers but the snitchtalon disappeared within the trees.

Meanwhile, the slavetalons—and their jangling shadow chains—landed to collect the arrows. Trey took the hint, realizing Bristles needed to reload. He absorbed the nearest tree shadows, drawing them into his hands, sending them around his whole body. [Zip] gradually transformed into [Zoom], an upgrade that Trey took his time with, making sure the spell would last for as long as he needed.

When Trey used [Zip], he became fast. But when he used [Zoom], the shadows were his speed, his ride as he could fully control his body in a proper standing position. The slavetalons glared at him with their arrow-filled beaks. Trey smirked at them as the shadows effortlessly transported him along the ground. Mischievous jolts crackled around his hands as he pointed his zix-zhooter fingers at the birds.

“Drive-by mage is coming for that ass!”

ZZT-ZZT-ZAP, ZZT-ZZT-ZAP—that was his pattern, his comfortable way of building from level 1 orbs to consistent level 2 beams. The blasts hit some birds, missed others—but disrupted and delayed them all. Bristles circled the airspace, grinding his teeth as he impatiently waited for arrows. His birds had gotten tired so another pair emerged from the trees and relieved them. Trey rolled his eyes at the shift change, both annoyed and impressed.

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A last-ditch effort of a truce was in order. “Swishy is in trouble! If you can team with the birds, you can team with me!”

“Perhaps thou can work for me. You can work for Swishy. Bring yourself to heel—by wishing thyself as mine. And thou can then benefit from my strength and protection.”

“Never!” Trey yelled. “Come on, man, don’t you see that scarecrow? Don’t you feel the darkness coming from our boy? Why the are you shooting at me when the enemy is RIGHT THERE? You’re playing too much!”

“One problem at a time, Trey. Thou knowest the adage!”

“You can’t mean to combat those curses and the wrathravens alone.”

“Of course, I mean to. I am strong. Thou art insufficient. Sacrificing yourself to myself—or better yet—Lord Swish’s wings, is the most honorable fate for you.”

“Your jealousy is disgusting.”

“As is thy middling existence.” A few slavetalons few above Bristles and dropped arrows into his hand. Bristles nocked several at once.

“Those wrathravens will get us—without teamwork, we’re done!”

“There’s nothing for thee to contribute. Begone.” Bristles fired a multi-shot volley into the air. The black lines arched in beautiful deadliness, then whistled downward. ZIP—and Trey was gone, just as the arrows crashed through the nearest treetops, nests, and birds.

Look what you did, Trey! The snitchtalons screamed as they fled.

“At least I’m fighting!” Trey yelled.

The Clayborne, hated by everyone, was on the run again.

But he didn’t get far before—phooft!—he’d been shot.

A blackwheat barb struck through Trey’s shoulder. But at least wasn’t his head this time. He wasn’t “dead”, sent into the realm of depressive shadows. It just took him a moment to reintegrate as he glided along with a half-eaten shoulder, his soul attempting to reconstruct, a blue flame returning to solid form.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Thy unsightly hiding will not do.” Bristles’ voice echoed over the forest as Trey’s damaged shoulder leaked soul trail up into the sky like a smoke signal.

Loser! The snitchtalons yelled from wherever they chose to hide.

“ZLIDE...” Trey said, having lost another round.

(...)

For the first time, Trey noticed that a dark portal opened upon [Zlide] activation.

A dark circular orb vacuumed Trey, atom by atom, into its center. He knew that his spell was a warp—but realized that it was a shadowdeep passageway. Within the darkness, he noticed that he’d created a tunnel from point A to point B, a type of ethereal hollow for him to travel through—fast, slow, even leisurely.

He didn’t need to teleport. He could just chill. And was what he chose to do, drifting slowly, staring around at the textured abyss. The shadows were conscious. He could feel their pulse, their soft undulating breaths. There was so much fear of the dark in the upper realm, much of which he’d participated in himself. He was a boy of light, of thunder cracks and golden glow, and the irony of him taking refuge and healing in the shadows wasn’t lost on him. He couldn’t stay there forever, though, as both sides of his shadowed tunnel began to close.

As he approached the warp exit, he thought of his next move. Bristles wouldn’t cooperate, not without Swishy at least, so Trey had to defeat him here and now. The tall order made him nervous—but what didn’t these days?

Trey needed a new tactic. His magic worked best with others. He thought back to using spells on Swishy, the kid-crows, and himself. Fighting wasn’t his forte, but support was. Myst had called him utility mage—he wasn’t taking that clue for granted.

The golden cogs of his mind had produced a great idea. Armed with brilliance, Trey flew toward the exit, ready to reclaim his place in the light.

(…)

“Snitches!” Trey yelled as he conjured himself into a canopy. “Get your asses out here!”

Three birds stared at Trey in shock. They looked as if their bow ties were choking them. Their gazes traveled to the blue smoke rising from Trey’s still-recovering shoulder.

Trey smirked as he continued to blow their cover even more. “Come on, snitches! Help a homie out! Don’t we live in the same city? We work for Ruby, right? As part of a community. A brotherhood, some would say.”

What are you doing, Trey? This isn’t our fight! Leave us alone!

Arrows tore through their location, which elicited another ZLIDE. This time Trey left the portal opened for the birds as well—who followed right behind. As they traveled through to tunnel, the snitchtalons filled the enclosed darkness with a storm of CACAWS. The cries intensified in ricocheting echoes, but Trey was unbothered.

“When we finish this warp, we’ll all going to fight.

Please, Trey. Die alone, we BEG of you.

“What will Ruby think when she discovers you let him destroy her forest?”

We hate you so much. When this is all over, we’re ALL going to shit on your soul.

“I’m going to fry you guys, I swear to God—but first, Bristles.”

As they approached the end of the portal, the pained caws of birds outside became audible. Bristles and his slavetalons were hunting down the other un-claimed birds, preparing further sacrifices for Myst once the opportunity arose. Within those few seconds of lingering within the ZLIDE realm, Bristles had efficiently terrorized the available snitchtalons—for the crime of their availability, of course.

The snitchtalons trembled again—this time in righteous rage.

“Ready to free your brothers?” Trey asked.

We’re going to gouge Bristles to oblivion…

As soon as they emerged from the portal, Trey deployed three ZIP spells for the birds. Arrows were immediately upon them, but they easily avoided them with their new speed boost. Trey shot [Zap] beams at the arrows, which savagely blasted the slavetalon retrievers that happened upon the bolt path.

“Thou art tactical today, young Trey.” Bristles remained confident. He had countless slavetalons at his disposal, enough to not worry about Trey and his three reluctant allies.

Several slavetalons darted from the foliage and shadows, converging upon the arrows in all directions, but Trey’s zip-boosted allies grabbed onto their ankle shackles and tossed them away. Trey then provided [Zap] covering fire, forcing the enemy birds to back off. “Grab the arrows!” Trey told his loathsome affiliates.

Don’t tell us what to do!

“Whatever, just do it.”

You think you’re so smart. We have brains. We’ll show you how it’s done.

One ally collected a pair of arrows within its talons and retreated into a nearby thicket. Another ally hung closely to Trey, scoping the situation, ready to help. And the third snitchtalon left the area, remaining hidden as it cawed loudly to recruit more birds.

Bristles is here! Let’s jump him!

Trey was glad for allies but nervous about boosting his frequent enemies. But he couldn’t hold back, not with Bristles being carried into the air, a flying sniper with blackwheat at his disposal. They had to keep it moving, progressing toward the giant scarecrow in the distance and its ascending shadows. The curses began to climb within that fog, groaning audibly as a gathering, agonized wind.

He flew onward and the slavetalons carried Bristles straight above him. Bristles rapid-fired arrows at Trey, one after the other. Trey couldn’t think or charge an attack.

But at least he’d grown closer to Swishy, closer to himself.

Through all the chaos, he faithfully followed the tether to his body. As Trey closed that distance, the shadows grew thicker. The energy emitted from the wrathravens, from the [Straw Guardian], was beyond wicked.

Suddenly, amid the rain of Swish-darts, a slavetalon shot from between the trees straight at Trey’s head. Despite his ghostliness, he ducked, an instinctual reflex that saved him. He glimpsed that the bird’s claws were covered in soul-damaging blackwheat.

Since when did the birds get brass claws? Trey thought. This is getting obnoxious.

Another bird picked up an arrow from off the ground and swung its end toward Trey—who twisted around the blow and proceeded onward.

“You’re fast at least. I’ll giveth thee credit for that.” Bristles said from above Trey. The man’s comfort in his slavetalon taxi bugged Trey to no end.

Trey shot at the birds upon Bristles’ shoulders, hitting one, while the other released him to dodge. But Bristles lost almost no altitude as another two birds came from the trees to retrieve him. Utilizing the delay, Trey continued his flight toward the scarecrow, the wrathravens, and the cursed energy.

As Trey drew closer to the [Straw Guardian], the atmosphere darkened. The shadows lengthened, and the permanent sunset violets of the postcard skies were eclipsed in murkiness. Everything became louder. More destruction, more crunching of tree parts and wheat, more deafening wind from the snitchtalon and wrathraven flight.

The curse-laden air coming from the scarecrow’s direction became obvious, impossible to ignore. And then an unexpected intent formed in a black smoke. He couldn’t get a clear view of the guardian itself through the woods, the flighted bodies, the tree-killing chaos, but a single letter within the conjured magic drifted above everything, clear and bold and repulsive. An errant “v” floated a thin veil of leaves and Trey immediately knew the coming word: voodoo.

Oh, fuck that.

How much had Swishy suffered to make use of weaponized harm? He feared for Swishy—and feared for his prone body caught up in the dark magic madness. Time had run thin. The window of opportunity cracked from curses. Trey wanted to hurry but had one last adversary to surpass—or perhaps win over.

“Bristles, stop! I can make you stronger. But you’re not trying to see that! Swishy would want us to work together and you’re conveniently ignoring that.”

“I doubt Lord Swish would disapprove of my way of acquiring our wings. Go play with your hasty little pigeons. They will do naught for my liege’s cause—for they are weak. And they are sorely, sorely outnumbered.” Bristles grabbed another arrow and instead of placing it in the bow, he’d fed its tip to the slavetalons on his shoulders. He gave the right one a turn, then the left. They alternated nibbles as they hovered in the air, growing larger, bulkier. They were red-eyed monsters, yet firmly under the control of Bristles. Due to the altar wish, they couldn’t defy him, not even in their berserker state.

Bristles then shot slow drifting Swish-darts over the nearby treetops. “Fetch, dear slaves.” And his birds arose from the trees and caught the arrows in their beaks. The slavetalons returned to their perches—all separate from each other, dispersed so Trey couldn’t get them all in one go. Trey zapped at a couple of them to no avail. The birds dodged with their blackwheat arrows and plunged into the trees. All of Trey’s enemies had now begun their dreadful snack time.

What do we do? Trey’s teammates shrieked in unison. We can’t fight THAT!

“Come here!” Trey said, flying upward and making himself easy to find.

His allies came to him then—along with Bristles arrows. But Trey’s ZLIDE was swift, whisking them from danger.

(…)

We have an idea, the snitchtalons said, panting in the portal.

“Let’s hear it.”

The snitchtalons laughed to themselves. Their sense of humor always came at someone’s expense. And this time Trey sensed that that someone was him.

“Spit it out. The portal’s closing.”

The birds grabbed Trey in their talons. What the heck? How? Trey struggled in their grasp and realized their claws were wrapped in blackwheat. They hated Bristles—but learned from him all the same.

We’ll stay here! The birds laughed. And you go fight!

“Wait, you don’t want to be stuck here!”

Speak for yourself! Bristles is a tank.

Trey motioned to hit them with a [Zzt] but the [Zip]-boosted birds immediately grabbed his wrists. The boy was embarrassed and regretful.

How's this for showing you how it's done? The birds jeered. Good luck and fuck off!

The snitchtalons came upon the portal exit—and tossed Trey out.