Laughter fills the chamber. The shadows coil and writhe, but not around the Witch this time. A spectral limb hovers over Project 13’s, the shadows themselves rearranging into the form of a new puppeteer half-in and half-out of its body. Wrapped in the black threads, feeding off them, a specter long dead looks out from the empty eyes of Project 13.

“I thought you had me,” he laughs, his voice loud and echoing. Over the crackling of fire, over the tense silence of the wounded, over the absolute fear in Shapefixit and Raika’s eyes, all that can be heard is him. “I really did. You cut me loose, starting dissolving me proper, but I learned, my little subject! Oh I learned!”

Project 13 does an awkward little skip-step, like a fumbled dance move. Zhoulong doesn’t seem to mind, just laughing harder.

“And all the eating! All the Qi you fed off! Oh, I barely had scraps, now! But here we are! Here I am! Back again! And-”

He pauses.

There is a sword sticking through his chest. Or, more specifically, through Project 13’s chest, out into the specter behind it.

Maen stands there, blade in hand, impaling the tortured weapon and its wielder.

“Oh, you little fuck,” Zhoulong laughs, though the voice wheezes unnaturally from a punctured lung. “I was going to have her kill you, but I’ll take that pleasure for myself-”

“Qen Hou,” Maen says as she steps to one side.

A wave of silvery fire, tinged purple and crimson, washes over Project 13 with a scream. The shadows recoil back further, and as the screams echo in the chamber, they’re matched by that of the incomplete Black Wolf.

Raika turns to it, on edge, trusting her allies to keep an eye on the now-screaming Zhoulong, but the beast lays on its side, panting. Feng Gao, or what’s left of him, his eyes rolling madly, screams a second time as one of the Not-Tiger’s paws scratches beneath him, metaphysical stitching and unnatural fusion coming undone. She doesn’t know if there’s anything left of the man, hearing his screeching as the Not-Tiger, exhausted, digs to remove its newfound parasite- but if he is, she’s pretty ok with him hurting a bit on the way out.

She turns back to Zhoulong, and sees him still standing.

In the flames, his shadow-form is in stark relief, embodied by the darkness and the Witch’s Qi. She’d felt it, back when the spears dug through her as she blocked and shielded Maen from them. The sensation of something leaving, not turning to shadow but rather slipping out from her. She hadn’t been able to tell what it was in that split second, might not have been able to do anything if she had- but it doesn’t matter. Whatever was left of him dove into the shadows, out of her perforated guts, and found a new home in a better-prepared puppet.

That was why he’d cut the thought of Project 13 out. Too easy to draw connections, figure out similarities in how their minds were cut away and traumatized, and too much of a chance, no matter how small, that Raika might realize Zhoulong had a better host already prepared by accident.

But it doesn’t look like he got away unscathed.

As Project 13 burns, silent now, its body shivering but otherwise unnaturally still in the flames, the shadow-form of Zhoulong is made clearer by the brightness of the fire. The specter seems to be entirely missing an arm, a leg, whole chunks of its torso gone, and there are parts of it that look like small, fanged mouths or insectile kitten paws- ah. He mentioned he’d been feeding off the scraps of what she ate as he dissolved, and it would seem some of them had an effect. Even as she watches, the strangely shaped parts crawl forward, winding, writhing.

And now, just like the body, the shadow seems to imitate the flame, as if mirroring the burning.

“Ha- haha!” he laughs, the voice emerging from Project 13 not just hurt, but now strained. “Whew! That… ooooh, but that stings! Qen Hou, was it? Excellent form. The flame is well and-”

Raika, uncaring of the flames, cracks the ground beneath her feet and has one of her hands around his throat. The Flesh reacts to the fire, to the pain, her armor plates locking tighter together to minimize the burn, but even instinct screams that the removal of this particular threat is worth a bit of pain.

She hoists him up, strangling Project 13… and then cocks her head.

He’s there, spasming, but… he can’t leave. She watches the shadows trying to pull away from Project 13, away from the fire, but there’s nowhere to go but into the shadows… whose main source of life he disemboweled.

“Now now!” he chokes out through a throat not his own. “No need for-”

“You really are a roach,” the Mask whispers, a bit in awe. “All this time… we cut your desiccated ghost out of our head, and still.”

“And once again, I’ve come to- ah! I’ve come to help! See? Project 13 wouldn’t listen to any of you, you well know that, and -mmmh, that fucking smarts- and I killed the Witch for you! That’s surely worth some-”

“He was the cause?” Maen asks. Behind her, the threat seemingly contained for now, Li Shu steps out past the line of fire, already dimmed to natural flame from Qen Hou’s limited reserves and shifted focus to Zhoulong. Hao Nera too manifests, as if he were always simply standing right where he was standing, unnoticed.

“Such a crowd! I’m afraid I-”

“He was,” Raika says.

“We should probably kill him then, no?”

“Qen Hou, at least put out the fire while he’s strangled,” Li Shu says.

“I can’t,” Qen Hou says, a look of consternation on his face. “I’m afraid I’ve been trying to ever since Raika grabbed him, but-”

“It’s Project 13’s Truths,” Raika says. “It Cannot Stop and Everything Hurts And Is Sharp. Maybe more.”

Even Qen Hou, prim and proper as he tends to be, can’t help but stare at her.

“Fuck,” Hao Nera says. “She wasn’t kidding about the whole ‘tortured weapon’ thing, huh?”

Raika looks at Zhoulong, still squirming against her grip, against the shadows, against the flame. “Listen, alright, I- please. The fire. Please. I-”

Qen Hou frowns, concentrating further… and slowly, the fire dies down, the lack of Qi fighting against It Cannot Stop and slowly, painfully winning out. Still, he starts to sweat, and almost drops to a knee as he drags the flames off Project 13.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Apologies. Was… mmh. Kept pulling on my Qi, even after I tried to stop it.”

“It’s fine,” Li Shu says. “We have him.”

“It is not fine!” Project 13 hisses, pulling harder against Raika’s hand- but only partially bound to the body as he is, there’s just not much he can do off the ground. “Put me out, damn you! Please! It-”

“It Hurts?” Raika asks.

Zhoulong’s shadow, through Project 13’s empty, puppeteered body, opens his eyes wide. She laughs.

“You did an excellent job with them,” she says. “Fuck. Just like me. You really did. Packed in all those Truths, so useful, so powerful. Took out any room for a person to exist, made those beliefs true… and then what? Assumed you could hop right in? Just be some vengeful spirit in a whole new body?

“You’re dead. Stay that way.”

She throws him to the ground. He goes to get up, but the pain stops him again, and even as he tries to pull away, malformed shadow yanking at the cords, the same shadows that bind what’s left of his soul to life bind him to his intended target. Eventually he loses control of the mouth, and Project 13’s face goes slack again, even as it continues to twitch, burned and impossibly sharpened flesh scraping against the ground.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Raika turns to the others. There are still holes in her torso, though that doesn’t really stop her nowadays, not when they’re so small, and there are chunks of shadow-changed flesh missing all over her, but… she stands relaxed. Calm. Aligned, just a bit closer.

“Li Shu,” she says, opening her many jaws and using the Mask’s human face again. “Hey.”

Li Shu smiles, her eyes tearing up the slightest bit.

“You have to be the most problematic fucking patient any healer has ever had to deal with.”

Raika nods. “Oh, I’m sure I’d be high in the rankings.”

And then Li Shu is hugging her.

Qen Hou comes up as well, exhausted from the massive uses of Qi but smiling. “She’s been going crazy, you know. Pacing a hole through our room worried about you, ever since we saw you.”

“Our room?” Raika asks, the Mask raising an eyebrow.

“Why yes, as a matter of fact!” Hao Nera says, swaggering in once more from out of view, though the Witch’s shadow-spears has earned a long, violent cut across his chest and stomach that slows his pace. “Our room. I’ll have you know that I have succeeded where you have failed, junior sister. Even with all their pining and worry for you, twas I to whom they came to for comfort and relaxation.”

Raika barks out a laugh, even as Li Shu turns, beet red, to face Hao Nera. “Came to- you arrogant little-”

Raika turns sharply as she hears a slight cough behind them.

Still next to the pedestal, most of her organs leaking out of her, held together by black strings and the dribbling remnants of shadow left, she looks up at Raika with sightless eyes.

She can feel her allies come to attention, follow her gaze, raise their Qi or vanish or prepare their blades-

“Li Shu,” Raika says, “please go help Yun Ka. I’m sure the others could use more healing, and your reserves are likely at least on par with theirs.”

Li Shu just nods, eyes sharp and locked to the Witch for movement, but backing away towards the wounded at the back of the chamber.

Saying nothing, Raika, Maen, Qen Hou (and, she assumes, Hao Nera, hidden from perception) walk over to the dying immortal.

The Witch laughs, her voice reedy, faint. “I think… I hardly rate… so many of you,” she whispers. She raises a hand, pulling the shadows to her again… but what moves is barely a fragment of the strength she showed earlier.

It could be a bluff. A last tactic, wipe one of them out, try the same possession tactic Zhoulong apparently tried…

“Check on the others,” she says. “Make sure they’re alright. See if Shapefixit or Yun Ka need help with anything, please.”

Maen and Qen Hou say nothing for a moment… then Maen nods. “If you need anything, just tap the stone. I move fast.”

Raika smiles at her. “I will.”

They walk back towards the others, their metaphorical hackles still raised and senses primed- but leave Raika alone with the Witch.

She sits, awkwardly cross-legged, in front of her again. As if the last few moments of violence were an illusion, a pause in their conversation and nothing more.

The Witch wheezes out breaths for a few moments.

“I doubt we could heal you,” Raika says. “If they have pills, then they’re likely not the kind to pull your guts back into your body. Especially with how little Qi is in you.”

The Witch laughs weakly, though it comes out as more of a rasp and then cough. “Not how… we grow. The Craft is… we move it outside ourselves. To the world, through us. It’s… aaah. I would have liked… to talk about it with someone. Maybe you. Like the old days.”

Raika says nothing. Her senses easily pick up the others, checking wounds, looking through their supplies, even the muffled twitch-beats of the heart, slowly picking up volume… but ultimately she hones her senses in on just the Witch.

“A vigil, then?” the Witch asks.

Raika nods.

Another painful little cough in place of a laugh. “Aah. I suppose… it’s the most I can… ask for.”

Raika… shrugs. “I’d listen. If you ask something else.”

The Witch turns to her, eyebrow quirked. “Really? After all this?”

She shrugs again. “You didn’t attack me. Didn’t use the cigarettes you gave to curse me somehow. Were willing to let me go. I can hear your last wishes, at least.”

“Ah. And… if it’s something… greater?”

“Make me an offer, I guess. Or I just decide not to.”

The Witch smiles. “It’s your right… as the victor.”

There is silence for a while longer. Eventually, the Witch just huffs.

“You know… I can’t… think of a single thing. A… a thousand years… in a fucking cave. Watched the city grow. But… always the… work. More runes to… carve. More meditation to… conquer the Heart. Preparation… and theory for… new weapons, new spells. And now… ha. I couldn’t… even tell you where… anyone who knew my name… might be. Or where my… brothers and sisters… might be. I… took no apprentice. Have… no family. What… use is a… dying wish?”

She shakes, and for a moment Raika thinks she is convulsing… but no. Laughter.

“Aaaah. This… is the most I’ve laughed… in years.

“What… would you… wish of me?”

Raika blinks. “Me?”

The Witch tries to shrug, but even that effort fails her.

“I did not… call you little sister… for nothing. Call… call it an elder’s generosity.”

Raika thinks, letting the silence sit. For all that the Witch is so near-mortal, the shadows still hold her together, though she can see the blood gradually leaking past the shadow-tendrils. She takes a breath, lets herself reflect… and eventually looks over at Zhoulong and Project 13.

“Two things,” she says.

The Witch smiles. “What a… greedy junior of mine. Fine. If… I can.”

“Zhoulong. The revenant. Can you pull him with your shadows? Pull him out of the body he’s in?”

The Witch nods. “But he will… still be in… my shadow. I cannot promise… he won’t try… to possess me.”

Raika thinks, then sighs. “Was planning to offer to kill you quickly. If you wanted. Extend that to this?”

“Agreed. …Why?”

Raika shrugs. “Not sure there’s anyone left in it, but… I know what having the bastard in your head can do. Doubt it asked for what he did to it. It’s in enough pain already. I’d rather not have him be trapped in there with it, even if it hurts him worse than it.”

The Witch smiles, blood and shadow dribbling down her chin. “I… take it back. What luck. A… generous sister. Consider… it done. What… else?”

“Jun Vral. The serpentine cultivator. Can you find them? Bring them here?”

The Witch scoffs. “Maybe before… your friend… tore apart the Heart. As it is…” She closes her eyes, and for a moment the dark stirs, the Heart’s quiet, muffled beating skipping a step. “He’s alive. I… I think I can. He’s… weak. Lucky he… distanced himself. Think… his serpents went… a bit feral, without… Qi.”

Raika taps the ground beside her, and Maen arrives, fast enough that she actually blinks in surprise. Maen smiles down at her, a bit smug, blade in hand.

Raika thinks she looks absolutely incredible.

“Everything alright?”

Raika nods. “Yes. The Witch says she’ll bring Jun Vral here, but he’s weak.”

Maen nods. “I’ll get Li Shu on it. We need to leave soon, though. Taran especially, but all of us are low on Qi, and this place…” she looks over at the Witch, as if asking or challenging her on the matter.

The Witch shakes her head. “Not… me. The Heart. Pulls on… Qi. Heat. Life. How it… grows. Been… redirecting to me… for a long time. But can’t stop it. Can… can maybe pull you out, or pull him… here. Not… both.”

Raika nods. “Pull him here, then. We can find our own way out.”

The Witch nods. Then… pauses.

“If I could… ask one thing. If you… loot this place. Don’t… burn my… books. Give them to… someone. Just… don’t let them burn.”

Raika hesitates, but… nods.

“Oh, and the… cigarettes. Three parts cave moss… one part… hemp leaf. Two parts… blood. Any Qi-rich blood… will do.”

Raika huffs, but… nods. “Thanks. Ready?”

The Witch nods. She hesitates a moment, hand half-raised, looking like a dead thing already… but then she breathes, painful and slow. And the shadows shift.

Space warps again, the way it did before. The angles of the roof above warp, and twist, and slowly unravel to reveal a tunnel mouth, from which-

He barely looks human. A humanoid torso, perhaps, but every limb, every defined muscle group, and half his face are just snakes, limp like tendrils of some sea-beast. Before she says anything, Maen has leapt up, grabbing and carrying him down to the ground rather than letting him crash.

“He’s alive, I think,” Maen says. “I can hear what I think is one larger heart in the mix, maybe.”

As if hearing her words, Jun Vral stirs, a den of snakes curling, hissing starting to echo in the chamber-

And then the Witch pulls at the shadows, at the strings that bind Project 13- and cuts them free.

Even without a mouth, Zhoulong screams in the scraping of hair-on-hair, of shadow on darkness, an unearthly wail that echoes poorly… and then he is dissolved back into the shadows, losing definition.

“Now,” the Witch says, voice strained. “I can feel-”

Raika gently but inexorably rests her claw tips over her heart, and pushes them in. She neither hurries nor goes slowly, neither torturous nor quick.

The Witch lets out one final breath. She cries a single black tear. She goes still.

The shadows break. Where once there was living, too-dark darkness, there is nothing, a dissipation absolute and immediate. The lake of ink brightens visibly, going from black of a perfect void to just an absence of light in the blink of an eye, even as trails of darker black continue to swirl through it ever so faintly.

And she is gone.

And the Heart begins to beat, unmuffled.

Bum-bum-boom. Bum-bum-Boom.

The ground begins to shift, the stone flowing like flesh, like-

Shapefixit steps past Raika, Maen and Jun Vral without a word. Raika didn’t even perceive her coming, her breath and heartbeat synchronized to the heart, her steps silent as she sinks half-a-millimeter into the stone as she walks.

“It lives,” she whispers. “It’s free…”

“Shapefixit,” Maen warns, voice quiet but eyes sharp.

Shapefixit doesn’t seem to notice, though. She turns to look at them, her eyes incredibly wide even for their inhuman size, her ears literally trembling and making little flapping noises. “It’s alive. A god. God of my people.”

“Can you speak with it?” Raika and her Mask ask.

Shapefixit smiles, her sharp little teeth going almost from ear to ear. “Yes. Yes. I know it. Older Ways. I know some. I will learn.”

“Can you get us out of here?”

Shapefixit hesitates a moment, a hand hovering towards the heart. Slowly, as if afraid of what might happen, she clicks her fangs, make a series of chirping noises that don’t form into anything recognizable as human speech… and Raika feels, ever so slightly, the pull on her body heat and Qi fade.

Shapefixit smiles wider still, looking like her face is about to unhinge.

“I believe so. But I will stay.”