Cara held on tight to Ted. Wind whistled past her face as she stared down at the weathered marble roof of the ziggurat rushing toward them. Rushing to end them.

Well. To end Cara, anyway.

And Nibbles!

Thorns tightened around Cara’s heart. No way she was letting that happen. But the dark blue moat—it was too far. They’d never make it.

She flipped her and Ted around so they faced backwards, pulled her legs up, and pressed her feet against his back. “I’m sorry,” she said, before kicking him away, propelling herself forward, toward the moat.

Please let that be enough.

She dared to glance.

No.

No.

No!

So close, yet even a single pace short would be deadly.

She drew her bow, activated Rapid Shot, and fired arrow after arrow ahead of her, each one pushing her back ever so slightly.

The ground closed for the kill.

She pressed her legs together and her arms by her side, forming an arrow pointing straight down.

Forest preserve me.

The loud crunch of bones smashed to pieces rang through the air. Ted!

Her feet smashed through water, her nose passing inches from the hard ledge of the moat. Water engulfed her, swallowing her whole.

She flailed her arms, frantically making for the surface, scrambling to grab the ledge.

Her pack, her armor, her bow, her daggers, all and more dragged her down into the drown depths.

Gasps sucked in water, flooded her mind with fog.

She grasped at water, spinning, turning. Which way was up?

Light danced before her eyes. Water burned her lungs.

No time. Surface! Where? Surface! Not up. Where? How?

Get distracted like that, Cara, and you’ll wind up dead before your time.

She dropped her bow, unslung her quiver, tossed her daggers.

Kept her pack.

Up. That way was up.

She pulled on the water. Rose. Coughed in fresh air and water.

Water buried her again. Muscles burned.

Her lungs screamed.

Air! She needed air!

Mind on the job, Cara.

She stilled frantic flails. Replaced them with strong, wide kicks and pulls.

Burst through the surface. Gasped in air.

Grabbed the ledge.

Air flowed freely now. Her lungs cried out in relief, and the fog in her mind lifted.

She pulled herself up over the ledge and sprawled across the smooth floor, spluttering out water, rescuing lungs begging for mercy and ignoring the metallic taste upon her tongue.

Too. Damned. Close.

She took a minute to just breathe, for the searing in her lungs to fade away, and then another minute after that. When finally the pain subsided to a dull reminder, she placed her pack upon the ground and pulled out Nibbles.

The little darling promptly ran up Cara’s arm squeaking, and set about chewing on Cara’s ear lobe.

“I love you too, darling.” Cara nuzzled against the furry creature, yet even so vines tangled and tightened throughout her chest. Ted.

Slowly, her heart in her throat, she looked up at where Ted landed, and her stomach twisted in on itself.

A wide puddle of blood had spread out across the stone floor. In the center of it lay mangled, bloody remains. Cracked bones erupted from shattered knees, his left arm was twisted completely backwards, and the angle of his neck made her skin crawl.

“Not my best look,” came Ted’s voice from behind her.

She spun around and shot him a glower before pulling him into a hug. “Nibbles could have died.”

He placed his hands around her, but they were stiff, and his voice even stiffer. “I’m glad she didn’t. Good job.”

She stared up at him. What in the Deep Forest was wrong with him? “What was the price this time?”

He froze for a moment before giving a faint shake of his head, and recasting the Continuous Armor and Absorb effects upon her. “Where are your weapons?”

Was that all he had to say? Fine. She gestured to where they’d sunk in that calm, deadly water.

He walked up to the edge of the moat, looked down, and cast a spell. A white beam shot out into the water and pulled her bow up into the air. He grabbed it and passed the weapon over to her, then repeated it thrice more for her daggers and quiver.

“Thanks,” she said, securing her smaller dagger in its sheath. “So,” she said, ignoring the unfair scowl on his face, “down, or up?”

“Down,” he said. “The control room will be right at the bottom.”

“Then let’s go. The way down’s over there,” she said, pointing to a spiral staircase set into the roof, between the closest tower—the high elven tower of white ivory—and its associated bridge.

Ted raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Of course she knew. Why wouldn’t she? “The stairs lead down to the Grand Arena. Below that, you have the class halls. You should select your class before leaving the Hub, Hero.”

The incredulity in Ted’s expression only grew. “I haven’t told you about the quest I got for that yet.”

“I can give you a tour of the Hub, if you’d like?”

Ted shook his head. “No. We have more important things to focus on. And… I’m sorry,” he said, though his tone really didn’t sell it. Maybe he did need some levels in Deception after all.

“For what?”

“I nearly got you killed.” Ted buffed up Cara with Constant Abosrb and Armor spells. “That was some pretty quick thinking you had there.”

“I survived,” she said, giving him the smile he clearly needed. “Let’s be grateful for that.”

Ted turned away and gave a dark chuckle.

A shiver ran down Cara’s spine. “You’re not grateful, are you?”

Silence. She tried to take his hand, only for him to flinch away.

“That’s the cost, isn’t it? Gratitude?”

He said nothing, but his shoulder slumped and his head dropped.

“Be careful,” she said, placing her hand upon his shoulder. “Don’t turn out like him, okay?”

“Come on.” Ted pulled away and set off for the staircase. “We’ve got a world to save.”

They descended the stone staircase, easily wide enough for five minotaurs abreast, and entered the ziggurat itself. Bright, cozy light flooded the cavernous levels within, and a pleasant warmth tingled against her skin. Each floor was taller than two wood elves head to foot, and hundreds of paces wide, with floors of marble and walls of brass. Yet, instead of the throngs of Heroes, Companions, and Merchants that should have been there, the floors were devoid of life. Rows of empty wooden stalls amidst the echoes of Ted’s footsteps.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“As you can see,” Cara found herself saying, “the top five levels are given over to the Grand Arena.” She pointed to the centre of the level, and the concentric rings of seats there overlooking the arena floor below. “Dramatic fights to the death occur often in the Grand Arena, televised both in and out of game. Once a match has begun, only one may leave alive.”

“What do you mean by ‘in and out of game’?” Ted asked, looking at her like she’d said the Forest was made of beer.

She tilted her head. “How should I know? You’re the one who said it.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Whatever. Keep an eye out.”

The spiral staircase took them deeper into the ziggurat, below the ground floor of the arena. “This is the fifteenth level,” Cara said, gesturing towards the empty, desolate floor. “Here you can find Hero run banks and auction houses.”

Ted grunted, and they continued down in silence, neither of them saying anything since his weird comments about “in and out of game”.

What was that even about, anyway?

Cara announced each level as they descended. The level for runesmiths, enchanters, and artificers. For glamors. For spellcrafters and spell merchants. For mounts and pets.

Each level was slightly larger than the one before, yet equally as disturbingly empty. The central point for Heroes, as still and empty as a one of the many vacant houses back in Tolabar. A silent, final confirmation that they were gone, instead of just hiding away from the boredom of the Great Forest—yet still, that grim emptiness in the air clawed at her.

The spiral staircase took them lower still. She announced the level for apothecaries and alchemists. For chefs and cooks. For weaponsmiths. For armorers. For jewelers and tinkers.

The silence dragged on. Still Ted said nothing, and often he even gave Cara strange sideways glances like she was the weird one.

They passed by the level of guilds, followed by housing, then services, each more cavernously empty. After that, they came to a floor with walls of steel separating out rooms with reddish-brown doors—harashwood, a good choice. Each door loomed nearly a full wood elf’s height too tall, plain but for weapon symbols etched onto them above head height. All except one, which had no symbol at all.

“This is the second floor,” Cara said, “Here you can find the primary class halls, including those for Assassins, Barbarians, Knights, Mages, Monks, Rogues, Scouts, Thieves, and Warriors. Each Hero should choose their class wisely, for it cannot be changed without losing all class experience earned.”

“Take me to the Hall of Mages,” Ted said, with a needlessly gruff tone.

“Certainly, Hero.”

She led him to the plain wooden door with no symbol upon on it—at least, none she could see. He pushed open the door and she followed him into the square white and blue tiled room beyond. The room was about twenty paces wide and long, devoid of any decoration or furniture except for a plain white marble pedestal in the exact center that came no higher than her hip. Atop the pedestal sat a silver necklace adorned with an azure pendant shaped like a staff.

Ted stepped toward the pedestal, and a grating female voice bellowed out in Orcish, the gruff sound rumbling down to Cara’s bones.

Why Orcish? Weren’t they meant to understand?

Ted paused and turned toward her. Their gazes met, and he gave that little half-shrug. For once, he was just as stumped as she. “Shame Gramok isn’t here,” he said.

“I thought you’d been studying Orcish.”

“Their runes,” Ted said, “Not that I’ve had much time, what with all the dying.”

Cara winced and pulled away. “Sorry about that.”

“What?” A frown marred his brow. “I obviously didn’t mean it like that. You did great.”

“I killed you.”

“I killed me,” he snapped back, before forcing out a smile that curved up too far. “You saved my Companion’s life.”

Thorns twisted in her gut. “You don’t sound happy about it.”

He froze up for an instant. “I’d be grateful,” he said, “if I could.”

A chill swept over her. “I know.”

His expression turned grim, and he said nothing.

Seconds scraped by. Cara caressed the grain of her bow. Guilt. Gratitude. What else would he give up? What else would he lose?

“I need my magic,” Ted said, at last. He stepped up to the pedestal, and grasped at the necklace.

The necklace blinked out of existence.

Ted stared at the pedestal, as if staring hard enough would solve the problem.

A tingle ran down Cara’s spine. This was a class initiation, not a complex puzzle. “Try stepping back.”

He paused for a moment before doing as she suggested. The necklace reappeared. “Weird,” Ted said, weaving magic in front of him. “Enshirka!” he said, bringing his hands together and sending a wave of purple magic rippling out over her and the pedestal.

Nothing appeared. Not to her limited perception, anyway. “What do you see?”

“Nothing.” Ted stepped forward and grasped for the necklace again, with the same result. “There’s no magic I can see here.”

“Of course not,” Cara said. “Contingency spells are imperceptible to Discern Magic.”

He glared at her through narrowed eyes. “How’d you know that?”

“As your Companion, I’m here to assist you! Just make sure to keep me safe, or you’ll have to find another.”

“Right.” His lips pressed together and he shook his head slowly. “So, how do I learn Contingency spells?”

“Once you put on the amulet, you’ll become a level one mage, and begin your journey to being a truly epic Hero!”

He stared at her like she was crazy. “You okay, Cara?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yeah.”

His right eyebrow raised accusingly. “Then what did you just say?”

Muddy sludge blocked her memory. How was she meant to know what she said? “Grab the necklace already. We’ve got a job to do here.”

“Fine, fine.” Ted turned his attention back to the necklace, where it belonged, and cast a spell of teal and blue magic upon both it and the pedestal.

Nullification of Portals, then. Rather more complex than the intended solution, no doubt, but hey, if it worked, it worked.

With an easy swipe, he grabbed the necklace and placed it around his neck. “There we go,” he said, smiling properly this time. “For now, I can cast a single Contingency spell, and there’s a mana cap, too. Looks like I can improve that with perks, and unlock more at higher levels.”

“Nice! Any plans on what to do with it?”

He cast a Protection spell and pressed it against her chest. “There. The moment your Absorb gets overwhelmed, it’ll recast.”

Cara pulled him into a hug, and held him tight. “Congratulations, Mage Ted.”

Ted chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his freshly clean scent. “I’m not so sure that’s an upgrade on Deputy Mage. Who wants all that responsibility?”

“Maybe I should move to Solanbar.” She grinned up at him. “The lights there really are pretty.”

“And where would that leave me?”

“Keeper of Tolabar.”

He laughed, and that ever more rare smile of his beamed. “You wouldn’t dare. Then you’d have to call me ‘sir’, and actually mean it.”

She smirked. “Is that any way to address your Keeper in a time of war, Prowler?”

“No, sir.” He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and pulled her chin up.

Heat swept through Cara as they kissed, his chest pressed against hers, her bare feet brushing up against his boots, his musky aroma mingling with the taste of his lips.

He pulled back first, and his face shone with vibrant life. “Good thing there’s no rules about fraternization, huh?”

“Oh, there are rules.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the door. “But you’ll have to punish me for that later, we have work to do.”

His eyebrow raised again, uncertainty wavering in his face behind a smile that scarcely dared to peek out.

Later would be a lot of fun.

“Mind on the job, Prowler,” she said, grinning as she led him out and down the stone staircase again.

This was the final flight of stairs. The bottom floor, with steel-walled rooms much like the second floor, except Orcish runes instead of symbols were etched into the doors.

“This is the first floor,” she said. “Here you can find various tutorials to acclimatize you to this Shard.”

Ted’s gaze darted around, and his cheer vanished. “Where’s the staircase down?”

“This is the bottom floor. There is no further down.”

He shook his head and set off. “You couldn’t possibly know that,” he said, heading toward the center of the level, past the various tutorial rooms.

Cara scurried after him. “What if there’s nothing here?”

No reply came, except for Ted’s strides growing longer. His boots slammed faster and faster against the marble floor, and he stormed around corner after corner.

“There’s nothing—” Cara turned a corner and froze.

Ted stood in front of an empty wall, staring at it. “What do you see here?” he asked.

Was he serious? “Steel. A blank wall of steel.”

A smile lit up his face again. “Then we’re on the right track. There’s a metal doorway here, different to the others.”

Cara tried to smile. Tried to resist the feeling that Ted had finally lost it. “Maybe we should leave it alone.”

Ted shook his head and weaved complex symbols in the air. “No. This is it.”

A few moments later, the symbols vanished, and the door—the sleek, dull gray door set into the steel wall—slid open, revealing darkness beyond.

“Ready to save the world?” Ted asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re sure about this?” She glanced around and clutched her bow a little tighter. “About doing what the Destroyer wants?”

There it was, that slight hesitation. The doubt. “The Destroyer wants to free you all, same as we do.”

“So he can conquer us.” Reality pressed down upon her shoulders. What if they failed? Keepers can’t afford to ignore consequences.

Another hesitation from Ted. “We won’t let that happen.”

“And we can’t stop him?”

“Then we rebel, or die trying.”

“Right.” Cara nocking an arrow and stepping towards the darkness. “Better to live one life than exist for a thousand.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, clapping her on the back without half of Gramok’s bravado, “but it won’t come to that. I promise.” He cast a spell upon himself and then on her.

The darkness receded as the spell took hold, revealing another spiral staircase leading down. This one was narrower, wide enough only for a single file, and of darker stone. “I’ll lead,” she said, stepping ahead and dropping into a crouch. “We Stealth from here.”

Cold, heavy air pressed in around her as she led them down. The staircase spiraled down a single floor before opening up to a grim granite passageway that stretched out into a dark fog that, even with Night Vision, obscured what lay beyond. The tunnel itself was around two elves tall and three paces wide, with a perfectly smooth floor that sucked the heat out of her feet.

Ted came up alongside her, and gave her a nod.

They shared a grim smile and snuck down the dark passage in silence, side by side.

She stole a glanced at him. At the grim expression he wore. At the determination in the face of the man who’d never wanted to save this world in the first place, but had chosen to anyway.

He caught her glance, and graced her with a smile. A weak smile in a dark, treacherous tunnel, yet even so, her heart fluttered.

When this was over, they’d have that time together, but she had to focus. Keep her mind on the job. On the darkness ahead, on the threats determined to kill them.

The Divine Emperor was here, likely Alenia too. If it came to a fight, she had to be ready.

Cara reached back to her quiver and checked for the raised dot on her myrellium arrow, and moved it to the front. If the Emperor was even half as powerful as Ted had described, that might be her only shot at even scratching him. She didn’t need to kill him, just draw him away long enough for Ted to get past and do what needed to be done.

She glanced behind, at the unnatural fog obscuring the stairs they’d come down.

No going back now.

Her jaw clenched, and she stared ahead, searching for any signs of motion.

Still nothing. No sign of the Emperor, of Alenia, of this control room Ted was so sure was here.

Was this the wrong place? Wouldn’t the control room be up high? Underground was for dungeon spawn, not people.

No. She had to trust that Ted knew what he was doing. Had to stay focused.

Air whistled behind—