Lyrica was as pretentious as Shychur had promised. The usual small and squat brick buildings from before gave way to ornate fencing. Houses were suddenly a part of properties, gated off and sealed away from the casual passerby. The size of building tripled instantly, soaring up and out as they competed with each other to consume your vision. Arrays of windows reflected the eerie light from the lanterns, giving all the mansions a haunting green glow.

The street in front of them parted in two to circle a fountain, the first Kyrylo had seen as he realized there hadn’t been a single park or piece of nature they had encountered prior to this. He hadn’t noticed since it was a spirit world he didn’t understand; the whole thing could just be one continuous city for all he knew. But the fountain was flanked by trees, gnarled and white, with silver foliage that twinkled. The front yards of these properties were coated in similarly white grasses and shrubs, some that had streaks of black or purple running through them, most of them trimmed into ideal shapes.

There was a stillness in the air from the lack of bodies. While the part of Sagos they had been in before, Old Sagos according to Shychur, hadn’t been tremendously populated, it still had spirits roaming around. They had seen transactions, watched creatures wander the streets, passed things. This was empty. There was no space for bars and storefronts, no common areas to gather. There were roads to the houses and nothing else.

Shychur’s tail had started to pick up as they walked into the mansions, twitching and flicking from side to side. Kyrylo watched it to keep his eyes away from the reflective surface of Shychur’s arm, trying his best to avoid further interactions with Syla. He didn’t know what was inside of him, or how much it was part of him, or even if it was anything. He didn’t like knowing it had a name though, that it spoke with a gentle tone. He had preferred it was just some projection, a figment left over in his brain leftover from when it donated its abilities to him and he became part-spirit.

He would have to live with Syla inside of him.

“I don’t know what you expected.” A beak poked out behind the fountain as they approached, yellow and slightly curved. A humanoid-bird stepped out, its slim figure dwarfed by the dark set of wings behind it. They fluttered a bit with its movements, though it also had its own set of arms and legs as if it were a person, feathers fading away to reveal bare flesh. Kyrylo was shaken by the fact that the creature had hands the same as his, expecting talons, and it wore a black vest he could easily find on some mannequin back home. It even wore pants, crisp linens with barely a wrinkle. “You know what will happen next.”

“You’ll tell me about how I should be more worried,” Shychur snapped back. Kyrylo saw his back muscles tense in front of them. One of the fingers of his robotic claw tapped against his metal palm. “All you care about is worry.”

“Life is worry,” the bird replied. It withdrew a rapier at its side, the thin sword a toothpick compared to Shychur’s raw size. “If you felt any you would have stayed away.”

“Maybe I’m just desperate.” Shychur turned and grinned at Kyrylo, gesturing for him to step forward beside the rat. “Or maybe Drummond has to reap what he sowed.” He held up his metal arm and once again nudged Kyrylo.

“I don’t know these references,” Kyrylo said. He had noticed Syla in the water pouring down from the top of the fountain, hating how they kept appearing. He tried to snap back to the human-bird spirit instead but found its appearance equally off-putting. “I don’t know who this is, you didn’t say anything.”

Shychur’s smile flipped into a frown. “This was prime material.”

“Well…I’m sorry you wasted it?” Kyrylo shrugged, deepening Shychur’s sadness. “I’m sure it made sense to someone. Maybe they appreciated it.” He pointed at the creature behind the fountain.

“Erebus?” Shychur replied, shaking his head. “He has no sense of humour. Just a ball of anxiety they put in charge of security around here.”

“Tell him about who took your arm,” Erebus added. Kyrylo couldn’t tell if it was smiling, thanks to its inexpressive beak. It radiated from the monster’s tone but he couldn’t confirm.

“It wasn’t you,” Shychur countered. “Are you trying to take credit for Ivan now?”

“Just reminding you where you’re from.” Erebus nodded and Kyrylo whipped around, finding four more similar-looking spirits had come up behind them. They each held up their own rapier in front of their bodies, a thin line dividing them into two halves. Kyrylo looked back to Erebus and saw he was now flanked by two more spirits, a full security force assembling in front of them.

“Excuse me.” Felix cut to the front, stepping past Shychur and whipping around to face him, his sword drawn. “Was this a personal thing for you? Are you here getting revenge or something?”

“It can be both.” Shychur sneered.”I can help you and happen to tidy up a loose end. Or he can at least.” Shychur pointed to Kyrylo. “He’s the Rat King after all.”

Erebus’ attention snapped to Kyrylo. He felt the usual tightening in his stomach as he recognized the familiar situation he kept running into in the spirit realm. They were going to have to fight their way out on all sides. For some reason, he had envisioned that them launching an assault on a rich creature’s home wouldn’t end this way but it was obvious now, staring straight at him, that this was inevitable.

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“Didn’t we already say I didn’t absorb your power or something?” Kyrylo tried to shrug off the burden of the Rat King title imposed on him. He hadn’t liked it when it happened, other than granting him the power to escape, but it was stuck to him. “If you don’t think you can kill them, I wouldn’t bank on me.”

“I can kill them,” Shychur said, suddenly cold. “They’re just birds. Pretty flimsy. They’re just fast and annoying is all.” With that his tail lashed out at the approaching guards behind them and they all scattered to the sky, leaping up and letting their wings carry them. “See, like that. They stay out of reach.”

“We are not some joke,” Erebus cut in, frustration in its voice even though its beak couldn’t express anything. “We’re contracted by the wealthiest families in Sagos to protect them from the sorts of-”

“I’m not done with him,” Felix shouted. He twisted and whipped his sword towards Erebus, the anti-spirit blade ripping straight through the creature’s body, tearing through its right shoulder and wing, leaving a portion of its body flopping to the side, as if it were peeling away from the core. The sword clattered onto the ground behind the bird-spirit as its corpse collapsed to the ground.

Everything went still. Kyrylo was in shock. Shychur was equally surprised, but even Felix looked dumbfounded, glancing down at his hands, then at his weapon, then to the body on the ground.

“You just killed the leader?” Kyrylo asked, the knot unwinding around his stomach. Some part of him imagined everyone else would just fly away in fear at this accidental display of power.

“Not a leader,” Shychur answered. “Not at all. Erebus was more of a coworker, just didn’t like me personally. Terrible attack though since you don’t have your sword now.” He pointed at it laying on the ground and shook his head. It sounded like he was tutting. “I guess you’ll be useless for a bit.”

The two remaining bird-spirits immediately moved to cut off the path to the blade, staying on the ground for the moment, rapiers at the ready. The four in flight circled around them, low but out of reach. They were all unaffected by the instant death of their comrade. And now they all knew about the power of the weapons Kyrylo and Felix had brought, so the surprise was lost.

Shychur suddenly leaped up, bouncing off the fountain and reaching out at the closest guard. It tried to spin out of the way but his talons sunk into its wing. With a screech, it was over and the creature was wrenched down from the sky, its wing tearing off under Shychur’s brute strength as it tried to pull away, leaving it to careen into the cobblestone path. Before it could stand up the rat was on top of it, stomping down on its chest before wrenching its head from its body with ease.

But Kyrylo couldn’t gawk. Another guard was swooping down above him and he barely managed to get his sword up in time to parry the move. It didn’t feel as bad this time as he whipped around with his sword in hand. The weapon was getting lighter in his grasp the more he was wielding it in these intense circumstances. No training could ever get him ready for these types of scrappy brawls; there were no stakes on the line.

Here he had to contend with the beating of his heart, the tension across his muscles as he braced for impact. He couldn’t miss, couldn’t slip.

Another lunged at him, dive-bombing down to stab at him at length and immediately shooting back up before he could respond. Shychur had managed to haul down another one, ripping apart its chest with a swipe of his claw. This one had tried to put up a defense but Shychur’s raw strength had snapped its rapier in half and taken its prize no matter what.

Kyrylo brought his focus back down to the ground. He needed Felix to get his sword back before they took shots at him. At the moment he happened to be positioned between Kyrylo and Shychur, making it a little harder to get to him but not impossible given the maneuverability the birds had in the air. Eventually they would be able to get him from above.

Kyrylo shot forwards, dashing towards the two trying to bar the path to the blade. One leaped back into the air while the other met his challenge head on, thrusting forwards at his chest. Kyrylo couldn’t parry the stab but he was more prepared, feeling razor sharp in his focus. He swayed to the side, sucking in a breath as he let the rapier pass along his side, tucking it under his arm and then squeezing it in place between his elbow and his ribs.

He slid in closer, still carried by the momentum of his initial charge and tried to swipe at the spirit’s head but it caught his wrist with its free hand, holding him back with its uncanny human fingers. He could see the other guard above readying for its own strike. He didn’t have time to try and overpower this one, he needed them buried.

Just over the shoulder of the creature was Felix’s sword, a glint catching on its blade. For a split second, Kyrylo saw Syla again, empty eyes watching him, reminding him of what was within.

With his left hand he grabbed the spirit’s right arm, just past where it was holding the rapier he had pinned. He pressed down. Things he had been holding had gotten heavier before when he needed it. He didn’t fully understand it but it had happened multiple times. He was sure of it.

The spirit suddenly gave out under his grip, its arm dropping to the ground as if it lost all control, even though he could feel its resistance against him pressing upwards. It smashed into the ground below and Kyrylo felt brittle avian bones snapping under his grip. It was enough for the bird to lose its position holding back his sword and he slashed straight through its head, cleaving it in half and leaving the whole thing to flop onto the ground.

The remaining guard was already diving down and Kyrylo’s sudden recovery, looking straight up at it, visibly caught it by surprise. It fanned out its wings, trying to slow its descent and retreat upwards in an elegant swoop but it was too low; Kyrylo’s sword had already flashed through its body, leaving it to soar and then skid onto the cobblestones, lifeless.

Kyrylo didn’t hesitate further. His sword felt unbelievably light, practically weightless in his hands as he moved to recover Felix’s weapon. He scooped it up and whipped around in time to watch Shychur crush the skull of the last remaining guard.

And then Lyrica returned to being abnormally quiet.

“I guess it wasn’t the worst move,” Kyrylo said, tossing the sword back to his partner.

“Don’t try it again,” Shychur said, barrelling in between them. His chest was heaving, an enormous grin on his face, as if he were back on his throne in the sewer eviscerating challengers. “That was the warm-up.”