“Smash.”

“Pass.”

“Pass.”

“…Smash.”

“Seriously? That’s Martella—a Tabika, don’tcha know? You got a thing for scales?”

“Everyone’s got their flaws. Besides, what that tongue do though…”

Ethan sat with Tara on the roof of his castle’s battlements at the very edge of the Sanctum—looking out at the dancers and merrymakers who were getting plastered in his name. The whole city was suddenly awake with hope—all because of him.

Us.

“Excuse me?”

I’m just saying that I should get half the credit at least. Without me, none of this would be possible.

“Oh, so now you’re interested in my adventures, are you, Sys?” Ethan smirked. “Knew you’d come around eventually.”

Don’t get me wrong. I know you will perish in some ungodly way, screaming in agony as you are cast into the same flaming pit your siblings were.

But as long as I still live, I would at least wish to be appreciated.

“You’ll be appreciated when you drop the snarky-bastard act—and not a second sooner,” Ethan mumbled in his mind before turning back to his smiling Minxit companion.

“You know what?” she said. “This ‘Smash or Pass’ game ain’t half bad. Makes you think, y’know? Even if it was thought up by a human.”

“Some of us have some pretty good ideas, every once in a while.”

Tara said nothing then. She looked out into the dancing crowds, merry drunkards, and the mushroom towers that released their luminescent spores into the atmosphere—lighting up the cave with a kaleidoscope of violets, oranges, indigoes, and crimsons.

From their vantage point, they could see the entire city—a city that was suddenly alive with hope and cheer for the Archon’s return, and the promise of true freedom he brought with him.

“Pretty cool place, right?”

“Pretty cool,” Ethan agreed.

“You humans—the stuff you build—it ain’t like this. You take what you find and twist it up until it’s barely recognizable as earth anymore.”

There's...worse things we do than that. But, eh, I'll let it slide.

“Humans might have ideas about the way this world’s supposed to be,” Tara said as she downed her drink. “But that doesn’t mean they’re good.”

Ethan could sense the hate behind her voice.

“They’ve messed you up too, huh?” he asked.

“They’ve messed us all up, Ethan. And they’ll keep on doing it until it’s either us left or them. Every one of those dancers you see down there has their own sad story to tell. It’s what brings us all together: suffering at the hands of humans above. Some of us were lucky and never lived in the cities. The things I’ve heard from hybrids living in the capital, Lucent? I wouldn’t even wanna repeat…”

Ethan thought of Fauna’s story—of losing her family to an anti-hybrid purge by the Greycloaks—and realized that Tara would have her own, probably very similar experience. Though it didn't seem like she was interested in sharing it, any time soon.

His old office experiences were kicking in. You couldn't work with a team without knowing their baggage and trying to accommodate. That just wasn't how things functioned. One voice alone can't do much. But a group - they had power. He just needed to know how to make these hybrids work together effectively. For that, he needed to know them - even their grisly pasts.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Y’know, Ethan,” Tara suddenly said. “Klax wouldn’t want me speaking to you alone.”

“Huh? Why’s that? You gonna bring me over to the dark side?”

“Something like that,” Tara chuckled. “He thinks you’re not ready to see what the world’s really like out there.”

“With a body like this?” Ethan scoffed, flexing his muscular torso and legs. “Tara, I’m ready for anything.”

The Minxit looked him up and down then, the lambent crimson of the mushroom’s recent spore discharge lighting up her face.

“Yeah…” she said. “I think you are, too.”

She stood up suddenly and cracked her neck, her tail whipping about in excitement.

"Look, Klax and me, we have our differences, yeah? Lets call them...philosophical disagreements. He has his opinion, I've got mine. I respect the guy. Hell, I'd kill for the guy. But he's an old dude now, Ethan. With old, out-of-date ideas. And he thinks he's really the one in charge. But we've got a new leader now, don't we?"

Ethan drunkenly agreed, though he didn't know exactly what the girl was getting at.

“It might just be time for us to put that to the test. So…you wanna do something stupid?”

Ethan, drunk with bravado (and booze), smiled down at her.

“Always.”

…

They slipped outside—both of them employing their [Hide] skills and sticking to the rooftops of Sanctum’s residential district. Up the stone stairway they trekked, stumbling over each other, until finally they emerged outside in the ruined remains of the last Archon’s surface lair. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, bathing the Westerweald countryside in a garish orange hue.

“C’mon,” Tara said with a pull on Ethan’s arm and a schoolgirl-like giggle. “This way.”

Ethan—still in the form of a giant spider-hybrid—gave a little gulp as he followed after her.

Okay, look: I’m not a cat person. I’m not that kinda guy, really. But…look: those short shorts are looking pretty damn loose. And that tail probably has a mind of its own…

You are attempting to justify carnal relations with your companion?

I’m just saying, Sys…when in Rome…

…you are in the body of a giant spider.

I’m still half man! Ergo, we should, y’know, make sure everything works, right? For testing purposes. Research.

Tara guided him through the trees at the foot of the Ashfall Mountains until their dark boughs gave way to a small valley with smoke trails drifting from a collection of buildings at its center. Buildings which, Ethan saw, were surrounded by a barbed wire fence lining their perimeter.

And it all suddenly became very clear to him that he'd been wrong about this girl's intentions from the very start.

Straining his eyes from their position on the valley’s lip, Ethan saw shapes moving around the buildings, emerging from a cave nearby, carrying clumps of shining ore and minerals, hauling carts in and out of the wooden structures lining the site.

And these shapes wore chains around their limbs, collars around their necks…

“What…am I looking at?”

Tara’s reply was a dark whisper.

“A work camp.”

Rows of crude, rusted cages lined the camp’s center, each filled with hybrids—beaten, malnourished, and covered in bruises. Human overlords, dressed in worn armor, swaggered through the aisles, barking commands at the captives, their whips cracking through the chilly evening air.

“Scum,” Tara muttered, her voice seething with barely contained fury. “They use us as free labor and then toss us when they’re done. This one’s a mining camp. Berlov was saying he needs new materials for our weapons. So, I did a little scouting of the surrounding area.”

Her hand tightened on the hilt of her blade, a low growl escaping her throat. The wind tugged at her dark, wild hair, and her feline eyes glowed with intent. She was ready—more than ready.

“Tara,” Ethan murmured. “Klax doesn’t know, does he?”

The catgirl eyed him. “Course not. He’d never have agreed to hit this place. But then, he’s not the Archon, is he? You’re our real leader, Ethan. I thought that, out of everyone, you’d understand. Besides, you wanna see what that new body of yours can do, right?”

Even as Ethan heard the words of the Minxit and knew—without exception—that they were bathed in pure hatred for those who cracked their whips below, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the images of suffering he was looking at. His body, a monstrous fusion of pale skin and arachnid limbs, pulsed with demonic energy, and his mind thrummed with a burning hatred for these slavers. Even in the powerful host body, there was a part of him—his human soul—that felt the visceral disgust of this place, a disgust that fueled his resolve.

The humans of this world really do suck, huh?

That’s a matter of perspective.

C’mon, Sys. You see what I’m looking at. How the hell’s this a good thing?

You will learn, Ethan Hawke.

Or you won’t. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things.

Ethan shook Sys free of his mind for the moment.

Just focus on what you’re good at, he told it. Telling me about what matters here.

I suppose you are referring to keeping count of your Spirit Cores?

That, I can do. It is, after all, what I was first made for.

Ethan turned his attention back to the waiting Tara.

“They won’t know what hit them,” he whispered, his voice a guttural rasp that barely sounded like his old self.

“Let’s make sure of it,” Tara responded, her amber eyes locking onto his. “We hit them hard and fast. Leave no survivors.”

Ethan’s eight pale limbs twitched as he readied for the descent. “I'll take the north gate. You handle the barracks?”

“Deal.” Tara smirked as she then unsheathed her twin blades, their edges shimmering in the fading light. “Don’t get sloppy, spider boy.”

Ethan let out a dark chuckle.

“When have I ever?”