“On your feet.” The arachnoid soldier prods me as I still lay there, mind whirring a mile a minute.

Someone out there—gods, or demigods, or whatever—knows why people like Hans and I are here. Or at least, they know we are here, and they’re looking for us. Until I know why, and that they have our best interest in heart—and let’s be honest, the interaction with Hans doesn’t bode well—I can’t risk getting captured as well. Which means no one can know that I’m from another world.

Except, Quell already does.

I glance at the prince as I climb to my feet, and he’s looking back at me, jaw working like he wants to say something. I give a sharp, minute shake of my head, and jerk my finger across my throat. He presses his lips together, then glances away.

This is going to be a problem.

“So,” Darian says. I reluctantly meet her gaze. “That guy was your acquaintance, huh?”

I resist the urge to grit my teeth. “Yeah. We’d just met.”

She looks at me flatly. “And this aberrant event Zeyaelid mentioned?”

“No idea,” I reply, trying to keep my voice level. “Like I said, I just met him. Didn’t want to leave him alone out here. But I guess that’s not our problem, now.”

“And where did you say you came from?” she asks.

“Captain, please,” Quell interrupts. “I’m sure we’ll have time for plenty of interrogations later. There’s still my sister to worry about.”

Darian holds my gaze for another moment, then grimaces and turns away. “Of course, my prince. You’re right. Let’s hurry back to camp before we encounter any further… interruptions.”

I sag in relief at Quell’s diversion. Was that on purpose, or was he just worried about his sister? Either way, it buys me a little more time to figure out what I’m going to say.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as we walk. I don’t know enough about this world to convincingly fake that I’m from around here. And there’s too much about my strange circumstances—like wearing the enemy’s uniform while saving the prince—that no amount of invented backstory will be able to explain. My best play is to not explain anything at all.

Ultimately, I guess my plan hasn’t changed: I still need to get the hell away from these people, and especially Quell, before they figure out I’m really not supposed to be here and call up that spider-god-person to come back and collect the other Earthling. Then I can focus on tracking my brother down. And from there… well, I need to take this one step at a time.

The sound of fighting has tapered off, even as we grow closer to the battlefield. Up close, it’s smaller than I’d originally gauged. Maybe a couple hundred people in all. In fact, as Echo Checks individuals for me, all that’s left appear to be Duneshade soldiers. There are dead on both sides, but not as many dead Moonfall as I would have thought: they must have retreated. Maybe it had only been a distraction to try to kidnap Quell and his siblings.

Whatever the reason, Darian and Quell don’t seem terribly concerned with it. They’ve been speaking to each other in low tones ever since the encounter with the demigod. The rest of the soldiers have remained quiet, but have pressed tighter around us, especially around me and the prince. I’m beginning to think I won’t have a chance to slip away unnoticed anytime soon.

As we breach a sand dune, a large camp is splayed in the valley beneath us. It’s not an army, but there’s at least a hundred tents pitched in smaller clusters around campfires. We head for the nearest circle of tents, and when we grow close, a man breaks away from the rest of the soldiers.

“Quell!” He strides quickly over to us, his pace purposeful, yet somehow indicating that running is beneath him. When he reaches the prince, he claps both of Quell’s shoulders. “Thank the gods you’re alright. Yua Tin’s grace shines upon us.”

Quell grasps the man’s arms like some kind of awkward, socially-distanced hug. “I’m glad you’re alright, too. Is there any word on Liz?”

Words appear over my vision as I examine the man.

[Check: Prince Constance of the Duneshade Kingdom. Level 35 human grand illusionist. First in line to the Sterling throne.]

He looks like an aged-up version of Quell who works out a lot more. But despite their facial features strongly marking them as family, the two couldn’t appear more different.

In contrast to Quell’s hastily tied back braids, Constance’s locs are chin-length and near, and unlike Quell, the older brother actually fills out his armor. He doesn’t have glasses, but does carry a weapon: a decorated red and black sword hangs at his side. They might be the same height if Quell didn’t hunch and Constance didn’t stand so straight. I’m already beginning to get a sense of the brothers’ familial dynamics.

Constance grimaces at Quell’s question. “No, we’ve no sign of her yet. But if two of us can fight them off and find a way to escape, then she can certainly slip away as well.”

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“Er, well.” Quell awkwardly glances back at me. “I didn’t exactly fight them off. I had some help, actually.”

Constance follows his gaze, eyes landing on me and dancing over the symbol on my chest plate. He raises a surprised eyebrow. “Who’s this?”

“That still has yet to be determined,” Captain Darian says. “A detainee, for now.”

“They saved me!” Quell quickly jumps in. “They’re not an enemy. Er, despite the apparel.”

“A defector?” Constance asks me.

That’s not a bad cover. I decide to roll with it for now. “I’m not interested in fighting in this war. When I saw your brother, I had to help. Seems like I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“And not being interested in fighting,” Constance repeats. “Is that why you’re covered head to toe in blood?”

Oh, right. I’d sort of forgotten about that. I guess my half-hearted clean-up wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped.

“It was a Bloodlust,” Quell says, which seems to get everyone’s attention. Even the guards seem surprised.

Darian looks at me with a pitying grimace. “No wonder you don’t want to be in this war.”

I feel like I’m missing something. There’s something about this Bloodlust that has shifted how people are looking at me. I’m not sure if it’s for the better or worse, so I keep my mouth shut.

“You were in a Bloodlust when you killed the soldiers who took Quell, but you left him alive?” Constance asks, skeptical.

Quell holds up his hands. “Well they obviously didn’t kill me. They can control it.” He looks at me. “Right?”

Everyone turns to look at me again.

“Uh.” I was hoping to avoid exactly this kind of scrutiny. I need to be careful with what I say; the last thing I need is to draw more suspicion and convince them I really am a threat. “Yeah, I’m able to direct it a bit.” A blatant lie. “I never would have hurt the prince.” But at least that much is true.

“Interesting,” Darian says.

Prince Constance just gives me a calculated look.

“Please,” Quell begs. “Right now can we just focus on finding Liz?”

“Of course.” Constance turns away from me, beckoning us back toward the center of camp. The way he walks, with so much confidence in his stride, I can see the king he’ll one day be. Quell, on the other hand, trudges wearily behind, not hiding the slump in his shoulders, absently rubbing the rope burns on his wrist. He catches me looking, and offers a weak smile. I meet the look unblinking until he awkwardly glances away.

“Captain Darian, some of your scouts returned in your absence,” Constance is saying to her. “There were no leads to the north, however we suspect the ambassador—”

A cry breaks through the noise of the camp. “Incoming!”

There’s a whistling sound overhead. A flicker of something against the night sky. A blast of fire launches from within the camp, perhaps in an attempt to destroy the incoming projectile. Instead, it misses, and the light of the fire burns painfully bright through my night vision, causing me to squint and look away. Though not before I can make out a football-sized seed streak through the air and crash into the middle of camp.

“Carrion cactus!” someone shouts. Green vines erupt from the ground.

Oh god, not another murder cactus.

The soldiers scatter, diving for cover, though to their credit the ones in Darian’s party defensively line up around the princes. Constance and Darian draw their swords while Quell edges back. Everyone is gearing up for battle.

Which makes this the perfect opportunity to turn tail and run.

The guards who’d been flanking me have moved to Quell and Constance, and currently all eyes are on the cactus creature rapidly boiling up from the ground in the middle of their camp.

Is it a little cowardly of me? Maybe. But I’m not about to stick around and get thrown in a jail cell while my brother is somewhere out there fighting his way through a battlefield, or killing carnivorous plants, or whatever other horrors this world has to offer. I have people to find and places to be—neither of which are here.

No one follows as I sprint from the camp. In fact, a handful of soldiers are doing the same. There are bigger things to keep track of than a random escapee. Literally bigger. As I glance over my shoulder, I can see limbs of the cactus creature rearing up into the night sky, dwarfing the surrounding tents. This guy’s a lot taller than the one Hans and I had to face.

But it’s not my problem anymore. Ahead of me is the open desert.

A lot of open desert.

I run for a minute, brain trying to process this obvious fact.

Somehow, it didn’t occur to me until this moment that I have absolutely no clue where to start. Álvaro could be literally anywhere. I’d just assumed he’d be somewhere around here because, well, I was, at least, and so was Hans. But there were many more people in… in that dark place between worlds. I could sense them around us. So where are all those people now? If only Hans and I ended up here, how far away could the others be?

How far away could my brother be?

I clench my teeth as I run, frustrated with my circumstances, frustrated with this world, but mostly frustrated with myself. I hate being so useless. I just wish I knew where to start. I need to find him and make sure he’s safe.

[Role Requirement.]

“What the hell?” I gasp out, glancing around as if I could see Echo smirking at me from behind a nearby boulder. “I thought we were done with this!”

[Role Requirement,] she repeats, the words flashing in my vision. The arrow points back in the direction I’d come and blinks urgently. [The Knight must protect the Prince.]

I let loose an insensible, angry yell. This can’t be happening again. I mean, I did just leave Quell back with a murderous plant that’s almost certainly tearing the camp apart as we speak. But he should be fine with the Captain and his brother and all those soldiers around, right?

[Role Requirement.]

[Sanity Level: 99%]

“No!” I gasp, skidding to a halt. I hesitate, looking back.

[Sanity Level: 98%]

“No, no, no!” I cry. It can’t mean that I have to protect him any time he’s in danger, can it? It can’t mean that I’m tethered to this person against my will? That’s not fair. That’s not right. What about me? Don’t I get a say in all this?

[Sanity Level: 97%]

Frustration turns just as quickly to fear. I don’t want to lose my mind. Last time my Sanity Level had been so low I had started to lose my grip on reality. Or maybe that was the Bloodlust—or some combination of the two. Whatever the cause, I never want to experience that again.

(Though, some part of me still craves the power it gave me. The speed and strength and invincibility. If I could experience that again without losing my sense of self, would I? That’s an easy answer: without hesitation.)

[Sanity Level: 96%]

That maddening static is buzzing at the edge of my consciousness. It’ll only get worse the longer I wait.

As much as I hate it, I don’t have a choice. I can’t help Álvaro if I’ve lost my mind.

“God dammit,” I growl.

I turn and sprint back to the camp.