I miss the comfort of apathy. The chilling, soothing release of indifference. It just sits there. Take it, leave it. Doesn’t matter.

Love, on the other hand, is so insidious. It sneaks up on you, digs its roots down deep until you can’t pull it out without ripping out your own heart. It isn’t a weakness, as some might imply. But it sure as shit complicates things.

I strain to see Luci through the toxic fog, begging that she’s alright, when a guttural war cry bellows from the berserker’s throat.

Pushing against Elias and Ron, I scream, “Run!” as I move to escape the center, but it’s too late.

New Status!

Stunned: Lose the ability to move or attack for 5 seconds.

My muscles turn to lead, my head screaming and pulsing under unyielding pressure.

Blood dribbles from the man’s mouth and eyes as the flash of a blade rends through us in a whirlwind. The sword thunks into Ron, toppling him like a giant, then revolves around the berserker in a fatal arc straight towards me.

Elias can’t be stunned. He bulls into the berserker in what would’ve normally been a knockback. But the berserker is unstoppable. He spins, faster, ripping the blade across Elias’ stomach, then faster, slicing again.

Elias stumbles, the edge catching him in the chest and keeping him on his feet in a grim, unrelenting volley, and all I can do is watch. Twice more the berserker whirls. Twice more, the blade cuts deep. When he finally slows, and Elias finally falls, his entire torso is nothing but a paper mache mess of pulp and blood.

The status effect blinks out. And that’s when the blast tears through us.

A bottle explodes at our feet, and a force, sharp and strong, punches the wind from my lungs. The world twists and turns. Then I crack against the window before the floor hits.

A cold black veil falls over me. It’s so sudden that I almost let it.

Health. I need health.

When I down the draught, the relief doesn’t come to me in a shiver. Instead, my whole body spasms, then burns. Crisp, precise pain at first. Then throbbing agony, my hand most of all. And my head. And my leg.

I curl into myself, cradling my hand against me as blood gushes from my fist. The health draught does little; the pain only grows. When I dare to look down, I have to wipe my hand again and again, poke, and prod, and stare until I understand what I’m seeing.

First, I can’t see out of my right eye. And second, both my ring finger and middle finger are gone.

My pulse spikes. Don’t faint. Don’t you dare faint.

Dammit. My health is still tanking.

A notification blinks.

New Status!

Crippled: Lose the ability to move or attack with the targeted limb for 1 second per enemy level.

Great, which fucking limb?

I fumble around and yank out a shard of glass imbedded in my shin, stifling a scream. There’s another in arm. Something… something in my stomach…

My teeth chatter, clacking against each other. It’s loud. I’m not cold. Am I? I’m definitely shaking… Maybe if I just let myself sleep for a moment…

With a second draught, I blink back tears. Finally, the pain dulls, though my heart drums and body aches with the echo of an aftershock.

My sight wavers as I scan the room. I can make out Elias, prone and bloody on the floor. He appears whole. But alive? I don’t know.

Ron is still in the center, struggling to stand. The explosion doesn’t seem to have left much of a dent.

Luci. Where’s Luci?

The world is still off-kilter, covered in gauzy film and stinging tears. Through the blur, the archer swaggers sideways across the observatory as he casually twirls an arrow. He’s closing in on Elias.

I have to stop him.

Only I can’t get up. Gotta be my leg that’s crippled. If it was Dave who threw the explosive, then I have twenty seconds of this.

Okay. Come on, Helen. This is your role. Get yourself out of this. Save everyone. Keep them whole. Stave off the misery of the apocalypse. Ignore the pain. Pave over depression. Make. A. Plan.

Nothing.

I have nothing.

In a last ditch effort, I trigger my invisibility for a second and final time.

I have eighteen seconds to figure this shit out.

Now move, Helen. Move.

My fingers claw at the stone floor. One glance at my missing fingers, and my head swims. Man, Eógan took that loss well, didn’t he? Of course, he was a changeling. Because that’s a thing.

I hate this world.

I don’t even know where I’m going or what I’m aiming to do. Not until I see it.

Elias’ leather satchel. It’s lying there, unassuming, unmarred by all of this chaos. This disorder. A few char marks. A few nicks and slashes. Hardly worse for wear.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

My one eye waters, the other still nothing but black. Clenching my jaw, I drag myself across the room. When I try to stand, my body rebels by taking on the fortitude of jelly. Stats, be damned. Trauma wins.

Ten seconds.

I don’t know if I’ll use it. Maybe I just need the pendant in my hands, knowing I could court death if I pleased. I can use it as a deterrent perhaps? Tell Dave that I’ll blow him up, become Unforgiven, whatever the hell that means, if only out of spite.

Of course, he’s a higher level than I am. They all are. I couldn’t target them with the amulet even if I tried.

There’s an alternative though. At first, I ignored it, but the more Elias and I discussed the amulet, the more I realized how purposeful it was. Their wording is always purposeful.

‘Mark a critically injured individual of equal or lower level within 5m,’ it says.

An individual. Not an enemy.

Obviously, I’d never target Ron or Elias or Luci. But I know of one individual that could work. If it meant saving everyone, would it be worth it?

The berserker stumbles over Ron’s body, knocking him out of invisibility. With a satisfied grunt, he slashes his sword across Ron’s legs and stomps on the back of his head, then sinks the blade into his back. Or at least he tries, but he only gets about a finger’s length of steel in there. Turns out the big guy has the fortitude of a truck, and the bastard’s strength can’t match it. Still, he keeps trying.

Yeah, maybe it’s worth it.

I slink behind an upturned armchair just as the feeling returns to my impacted leg. Propping myself up, I tug the bag toward me. Through bleary eyes, I fumble around inside. There’s the fountain pen, the ink jar, some parchment…

There’s no amulet. It’s gone.

The invisibility fades, and I find myself in a shadow.

Ankle boots, scarred legs, a jean skirt soaked in blood and filth, that dumb chainmail bikini, matted hair, deadened eyes. One arm hangs loosely at her side as a deep gash slowly knits itself together.

Around her neck sits a shimmering celtic knot.

“Luci.”

“Oh, you’re alive. That’s nice.”

“Luci, stop.”

She reaches into her bag and scoops out a small spotted frog. Crouching, she sets it down on the floor, then reaches into her quiver for an arrow. Her movements are slow and methodical.

“Afric gave me this idea,” she whispers. “I think it’s a good plan. I just should have done it from the beginning, you know? You would have. If we hadn’t met.”

“Your uncle and Ron are still alive,” I plead, grabbing her hand. “We haven’t gotten any messages. We can salvage this. We can fight them.”

“All three?” She shakes her hand loose from my grasp. “I don’t think so.”

The frog hops, and Luci drives the arrow through its back.

Level 1. Critically injured.

A small scorched number appears over the amphibian’s head.

5

I stare in horror. “Look. The explosion has a one meter radius. If that blows up within reach of Elias and Ron-”

“It won’t.”

4

I peek over the lip of the chair. Ron is back on his feet, but Antony and Melinda have him pinned like a spit. The fire of Melinda’s blade sears into his bare stomach. Ron refuses to fall, swinging his arms uselessly and roaring like the heavy metal star he was born to be.

Nearby, the archer swipes the templar’s sword from the floor and approaches Elias. He clutches a fistful of Elias’ hair and yanks him to his knees.

3

I’m about to step in, collateral be damned, when Dave spots us. With a grin, he lets go. My breath catches as Elias hits the ground, then subtly rolls onto his back while another sword materializes in his hand.

2

“Ah, there they are,” the archer calls as he meanders over. “Hey kid, what do you got?”

1

Luci shrugs. “Take a look.”

And she pitches the bloody frog right at him.

0

It’s hard to see what happens this time around. It isn’t as visceral or as loud with such a tiny victim. One second, there’s a slimy sack soaring through the air. The next, there’s nothing but a star-shaped splat of blood on the stonework and a pattern of crimson droplets dotting the archer’s stupid, sly grin.

5

The number appears above his head instantaneously, scrawled in burned, jagged lines.

Melinda’s jaw drops. She seems to understand faster than everyone. “Oh my god.”

Dropping her blade, she turns to flee as Elias’ sword slides neatly through her shin.

At the same time, the color drains from the archer’s face. “You bitch!”

He springs at Luci. She spins and retreats, dashing backwards across the room faster and farther than Dave’s ability allows. Not like he’s thinking entirely straight. He chases after her as she haphazardly launches an arrow with Deadeye.

4

I don’t know what Elias says to Ron, but the giant shoves the berserker away from him and hobbles out of the center like he’s got shit in his pants. He’s covered in wounds all the way down to the bone.

Just before the arrow hits, Dave lashes out with the templar’s blade, releasing a shrouded arc in Luci’s direction.

The arrow nails Dave in the chest in the same moment that Luci falls. He snarls, but it doesn’t slow him down.

I do.

3

I shadowstep behind him, jab him in the armpit with the scian, and curl my dagger around his throat. And I know exactly how he’ll react. I pivot just as he twists around and retreats, shooting him backwards like a cannon into the center where he collides headlong into Antony.

It couldn’t be more perfect. Antony and Dave are down with Melinda crippled only a few steps away. One explosion and the next two fall like dominoes.

So long as Elias can break free.

2

Elias wobbles uneasily to his feet, his gambeson torn to shreds. He catches my eye as he takes one lurching step forward.

Beside him, Dave tumbles free. He’s always been fast. Too fast.

He smirks, teeth bloody, as he lunges my way.

But for some reason, he doesn’t manage to get any closer.

A thin, luminescent line blocks his path.

1

Elias has stopped moving. A white ring, two meters across, glows around him. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s done.

I shake my head. “Don’t do this.”

0

Dave ruptures, splitting down the middle as his insides combust, spurting a paltry burst of blood and viscera into a heap on the floor. His bow and sword fall beside it.

Only a few drops hit the others. But it’s enough.

5

Three numbers blaze above three heads.

Inside Elias’ Inescapable Stance, Antony pounds his fists against the invisible walls as Melinda just deflates. Side-sitting, she adjusts her pencil skirt and sighs.

Luci walks across the room. “Tío?”

4

“I didn’t mean to-” she cries.

He nods. “I know. I’m not upset.”

3

Ron paces. “What’s happening, man. What’s happening.”

I pull at his arm, guiding him away from the circle as I gaze helplessly at Elias.

My throat tightens. There are no consternated wrinkles creasing his forehead. None of those stubborn gears visibly clunking against each other in that relentless churn he’s always got going. His eyebrows aren’t even pouting.

2

“So what, losing your leg wasn’t enough?” I scoff. “How am I supposed to be heroic if you keep stealing it from me?”

A fine set of smile lines appear around his eyes. “You’ll find other ways.”

1

“No, fuck you.” Wait, I don’t want those to be the last words he hears. Shit. “Okay. I will, okay?”

0