Vaela sprinted forward and swung towards the creature’s head as hard as she could. It jerked back and whipped an arm at her. She twisted away, but its palm smashed into her chest and she flew back. The impact on the floor knocked the wind out of her and she wheezed, unable to breathe. The creature loomed over her and then writhed as if something had struck it from behind. The edges of the Shadow curled inward on the creature as if condensing.

Vaela dragged herself backwards and gasped in a stilted breath. The creature’s wings evaporated away and its entire body diminished. From the constricting Shadow, an arm shot out. The Shadow condensed further, revealing the outline of a man, robed in black. His face was concealed entirely by the Shadow, but Vaela could tell he was staring down directly at her.

She struggled to her feet and held her stick in front of herself. This man, was he that thing? Was he… one of the Twisted?

His other hand emerged, holding something long and wrapped in swirling Shadow. He brought his hands together to hold it at its far end and the Shadow hardened into a black sword, the blade longer than he was tall. He slowly lowered the massive sword to point at her.

How was he even holding it? It had to be incredibly heavy. His arms tensed a moment before he swiped at her. She dove out of the way, feeling the rush of air as it passed by her face. So fast! He wielded it like it was nothing.

She jumped to her feet to find him facing her already, blade raised up. Its tip almost touched the ceiling. She stumbled back and raised her stick with both hands. It was pointless. The sword would barely slow as it snapped her stick and then her upper ribs. The man brought the sword down and she thrust her stick overhead to meet it.

Warm hands grabbed her from behind and hauled her backwards. The tip of the sword whistled in front of her face as she fell back onto whoever had yanked her away. She rolled over and scrambled to her feet, standing over her rescuer. Surah!

His face was tight with fear as his eyes focused on the sword that had almost cleaved her in half. Vaela grabbed him under the arm and pulled him to his feet. He jerked her towards the stairs, still mired with the members of the mystic society trying to break free. “Let’s go!”

“Timura! She’s still alive!”

He shook his head and pulled her away again. “We have to leave.”

Vaela nodded. He’d already risked his life to save her. And there was no chance they’d defeat the man–one of the Twisted reincarnated or whatever in the Pits he was. “I’ll meet you there!”

“What??”

Vaela broke free and sprinted in an arc around the Shadow man. The tip of his sword tracked her, but he didn’t attack. She slid down and grabbed Timura, shaking her frantically.

Timura’s eyes jolted open. “Vaela?” She looked confused and glanced between Vaela and the Twisted. “Y-you came back for me?”

“Let’s go!” Vaela pulled Timura’s arm.

Timura stared into her eyes a moment longer before sitting up fully and pushing to her feet. She faced the Twisted and the creature leveled the massive blade at her.

Vaela took an involuntary step backwards and grabbed Timura’s hand. “What are you doing?”

Timura shook her hand free and raised both her arms overhead. “BEGONE, O TWISTED ONE.”

What was she doing? Vaela reached for Timura again. The Twisted left out a guttural scream and reeled backwards. Timura thrust both her hands, fingers clawed, towards the Twisted. She brought them together as if she could actually crush the Twisted with her mind. The man let out another scream and Shadow oozed out from his body, forming an unstable outline. He stumbled back and swung the sword around, cutting through the empty air.

From the stairwell, shouts rang out from the members of the society. They were pointing in disbelief at Timura’s success. Timura took a step forward and cried out. The Twisted flailed, Shadows like tentacles roiling from his body. He fell to one knee and Timura strode up to it, hands still outstretched. “I COMMAND YOU: BEGO–”

The Twisted jolted upright and slammed a fist into her. She reeled backwards and The Twisted’s form exploding outward, reforming into the reptilian monster. Its great wings began to sprout from its back again.

Timura thrust her hands out, somehow managing to stem the flow of Shadows from its back and halting the emergence of the wings. She glanced at the stairs towards the other members. “Help me! We can banish it if we work together.” She clenched her hands into fists. “Begone, O Twisted, to the lowest Pits. Begone, O Twisted, to the lowest Pits.”

Vaela watched the whole display, her heart still pounding, her chest aching where she’d been kicked. So, what? It had all been the presentation? But there was no way Timura could pull off that level of Shadow Spinning. Who was that man?

Timura continued her chant, glancing at the other members, none of whom had joined in. Vaela sighed. Well, she had come to rescue Timura. Guess it would just be from social awkwardness and not actual danger. She jumped up beside Timura and raised her stick overhead. “Begone, O Twisted, to the lowest Pits!”

Timura smiled gratefully at her and nodded. They continued their chant and “the Twisted” began to shrink, the Shadows once again receding. Vaela looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Surah, his mouth hanging open. She jerked her head over and his face broke into a wide grin.

He jogged over to join them and triumphantly flung his robe off, standing naked next to Vaela. “Aha! Begone, Twisted One–oh shit, uh, the Pits!”

Vaela suppressed a groan and kept up the hokey chant. Who was she kidding? There was really no scenario where Surah didn’t end up naked.

One by one, other members of the society joined their forces, taking up the chant. Soon the entire group shouted in unison. The Twisted shrank until it was the size of a man. Vaela almost took a step forward, breaking ranks with the semi-circle that had formed. Now to see who this Shadow Spinner was.

The Shadow evaporated away to the size of a child. Vaela frowned. He hadn’t been a large man, but he wasn’t that small. The Shadow dwindled further, smaller than a child, until finally, it faded completely away leaving nothing in its place. Where had he gone? Cheers rang out from the group and Timura walked in front of the group. She bowed her head modestly and the group burst into applause. Her cheeks flushed and after a few generous moments of basking in the group’s appreciation, Timura raised a hand up. “Thank you, thank you. I hope I’ve proven myself worthy of joining this esteemed group.” She spread her hands. “I must admit, I alone do not possess the Power for what you just participated in, though I one day plan on being just as strong.”

The atmosphere became tight with anticipation and Vaela leaned in. This was it. Who had helped her?

“Allow me to introduce an honored guest… the Shadow Lord himself!”

Several members of the group groaned and Vaela glanced at them. Did they know of this Shadow Lord?

Timura swept an arm, indicating behind them. Vaela spun around. A man in a robe waited, hood pulled over his head, obscuring his face. He held a long staff. That staff. Hadn’t she seen it?

The man pulled back his hood and he beamed at Vaela. “Hey, kid.”

Her heart dropped and her groan joined the several others that had resounded at his reveal. Hermit. Of course, it was Hermit. Who else would pull off such a ridiculous hoax?

She poked her stick at him, studying his foreign features as she did every time she had the misfortune of running into him. He had brown skin naturally, not from hours of being in the sun like a laborer. Ha, the very idea of Hermit doing anything resembling work. “What are you doing here?”

He tutted and shook his head. “So blunt, didn’t anyone tell you to respect your elders?” He waved a hand dismissively at her stick. “And still with the dinky stick too, don’t you have any self-respect?”

Dinky?! Her grip tightened around her beloved walking stick. “I don’t need to carry a big staff ‘cause I’m not overcompensating for anything.”

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Hermit looked his staff up and down. “No, this seems about right. You know, you should be glad I’m around. I’ve got several more ideas for your madam.”

Vaela crossed her arms and ignored the sudden focus of the rest of the group on her. “She’s not my madam!”

“Well, you work for her, right?”

“I mean, yes.”

Hermit nodded to one of the men in the group and spoke in a low voice. “She’s a sex worker.”

“I am not”–Surah cleared his throat–“oh, uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Vaela tapped her stick into the ground several times as Hermit grinned triumphantly down at her. Dammit! She turned to the man Hermit had confided in. “I mean, it’s true, I sell sex–”

“Aha! So there you have it.” Hermit swept his staff at her as if putting her on display. “She sells sex.”

“No! Sex tools. Uh, you know, like sexual enhancements and objects to use in the bedroom…” The group, all men besides Timura, surveyed her with considerably increased interest as she floundered.

“Ah, always good catching up with old friends.” Hermit leaned on his staff. “Oh, Zant, how are you, you dirty bastard?”

Another man regarded Hermit sourly. “Better since you left. You still owe me a considerable sum, by the way.”

Hermit hurried over to Vaela and put an arm around her shoulder. “Uh, not now, my good man. I’ve still got much to discuss with this young lady.” He pulled her off to the side and called over his shoulder. “Problems in the bedroom. Uh, hers, not mine, of course.”

Vaela resisted his urgent pull and glanced back at Timura. She should congratulate her on her success. Even though she stooped to low levels–Vaela tried to shrug off Hermit’s arm, but he kept it tight on her shoulders and steered them both away from the group–really low levels, Timura had still done fantastic. Most of the members of the group crowded around Timura, buzzing about her ritual. Vaela smiled and let Hermit drag her off, towards the toppled crates Timura had set up. She’d talk to her later, Timura deserved the praise.

Once they were clear from the group, Vaela extracted herself from under Hermit’s arm. “So why did you help Timura?”

He brushed an imaginary speck from his cloak. “Oh, just saw a person in need, thought I’d help them out.”

Vaela squinted at him, then nodded. “Ah, you’re hiding down here, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say hiding, per se. Enjoying the culture of this great city. Expanding my horizons, uh, downward.”

Vaela sank onto a crate. “Yeah, I’m hiding, too.” She tapped the crate next to her with her stick.

Hermit eased down with a sigh. “So who’re you hiding from?” Vaela eyed him suspiciously and he spread his hands. “Me, I’ve got some ‘friends’ who are far too caught up in material things.”

“You owe them money.”

“I wish.” Hermit placed his staff across his lap and drummed on it with his fingers. “I owe them a shaved and oiled mule.”

Vaela choked. “W-what?”

“I lost theirs.”

“What??”

“Well, it slipped away from me, obviously! All that oil and no hair to hold onto.”

Vaela stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Always something ridiculous with this guy. He was, well, he was Hermit. A liar, a thief, and the best damn storyteller she’d ever seen. Hermit joined in with her and together, they howled with laughter on the crates.

“So if you have any ideas…”

“On getting a shaved and oiled mule?”

“And don’t suggest a donkey. They know the difference. Trust me.”

Vaela grinned and shrugged at him. Oh yeah, a troublemaker if there ever was one. It was a miracle he was still alive. She rolled her stick between her fingers. Though maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe. As absurd as he was, there was no denying he was the strongest Shadow Spinner she’d ever met. Tonight was a perfect display of that. In fact, she couldn’t think of anyone with his amount of raw Power or fine control over it.

He nudged her and waved to the ceiling. “So what about you? Who are you hiding from in this”–he indicated the hanging meat–“uh, meat-filled”–his arm swept towards the crowd of men around Timura–“very meat-filled bunker?”

She tapped her fingers on her stick. “The Church.”

“Which one?”

“The Church of Blood.”

Hermit scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, come now, smart girl like you hiding from that glorified cult?”

Vaela pushed to her feet and paced in front of him. “They’re no cult. They seem pretty organized to me.” She whirled around and pointed her stick at him. “And they’ve got this patriarch or something. He’s a Forger–rips out hearts, or at least that’s how they paint him.”

Hermit waved a hand dismissively. “Who? Inky? Trust me, he’s an idiot.”

Inky? Vaela lowered her stick. “You mean St. Incus? So you do know about them.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Hermit pushed to his feet and stretched. “Look, I wouldn’t worry about them. They’re less than harmless–they’re incompetent.”

“But they’ve got members throughout the land, I’ve heard. Their church is one of the biggest in the city.”

Hermit rubbed his face. “Huh, is it? That doesn’t sound like the ‘Church of Blood’ I know. Always been pretty disorganized.” He swirled his fingers over the top of his staff. “They’re organized now, you say? Wonder if ol’ Stapes is helping Inky out.” He pounded his staff on the ground and strode past her. “Oh, well! Nothing will come of it, I’m sure.”

He rejoined the group and elbowed his way through the members of the society, while Vaela followed in his wake. Timura now wore Surah’s robe, tied loosely at the waist. Surah, still naked, talked glibly by her side, not a care in the world. Vaela stepped from behind Hermit and Timura brightened. She jumped forward and hugged Vaela tightly.

“I can’t believe you came back for me!” Timura pulled back and stared into her eyes. “That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Vaela bit her lip and shrugged with a smile. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t leave you lying there with that monster. And that was before I knew it was Hermit!”

Timura grabbed Vaela’s hands. “Thank you.” They slowly drifted closer together. Had Timura’s lips always been so full?

Hermit clapped Vaela on the back, sending her flying into Timura. “You didn’t do half bad against me either. I mean, in a real fight, you would have been dead ten times over, but still–not bad.”

Vaela whirled around, stick raised, but Timura placed a hand on her shoulder. She walked around Vaela and faced Hermit. “You have to admit she was brave and… And that’s why you should make us your apprentices!” She bowed her head.

Vaela hauled Timura back. “What??”

Timura wriggled free and bowed to Hermit again. “Please, master!”

Vaela spun Timura around. “Okay, no! Absolutely not.”

“He’s strong, Vaela. We could learn so much.”

Hermit stepped forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Ladies, ladies, please. I’m flattered, though I must admit, I’m not surprised. This happens all too often to me.” Vaela swiped his hand from his shoulder, but he continued undeterred. “I’m afraid I must break your fragile hearts. I recently taught a bunch of rookies and they only just died, so I’m going to need a few decades.”

Vaela pushed Hermit a step away from them and she nodded to Timura. “There, see? All his so-called students were too weak to survive. Do you really want to learn from him?”

Timura drew Surah’s robe tighter around herself and looked at Hermit. “They didn’t really die, did they?”

He rapped his staff on the floor and Shadows poured from his feet. “Oh yes. Though they weren’t weak–they were as strong as anyone ever has been on Dome.” The Shadows sprung up from the floor into four figures. They each spread their arms and Shadow Fire erupted along their bodies. “They burned their own lives out to keep this world from being destroyed. Their battle resulted in the biggest fire Dome has ever seen–why an entire forest burned down!”

Vaela rolled her eyes. Another one of his tall tales, this one clearly about the Gobi forest. Of course, it had burned down before she was born, almost fifty years ago. Hermit couldn’t be much older than fifty, so to be alive, let alone old enough to train other adults? Besides, no one knew how it had burned down. She clapped slowly. “Wow. Are we really supposed–”

Surah joined in, politely pattering from the side. Timura brightened and also applauded.

Vaela reached for Timura’s hands. “No, I wasn’t actually clapping for him!”

The rest of the society joined in and Hermit flourished a bow. “You’re too kind!”

After the applause faded away, Hermit wiped a fake tear away. “Thank you, Vaela, I didn’t deserve that.”

Vaela groaned, but Surah wrapped an arm around her. “Oh, come now. Aren’t you always fantasizing about being strong?”

“Yeah, but real fighting, not trickery.”

Timura tilted her head. “Why do you want to fight so bad?”

Vaela chewed her cheek. Well, no reason to mince words. She tossed her stick and caught it with the other hand. “I’m going to overthrow the Church of Blood.”

Timura’s eyes widened while Hermit burst out laughing behind her. Vaela’s cheeks flushed and she glared at him. Hermit grinned back at her and said, “I told you they were harmless. Leave them alone long enough and they’ll collapse on their own, no help needed. ‘Specially with Inky gone. Why do you care so much?”

Surah bounced his eyebrows at Hermit. “There was an attractive blonde priestess who seemed very interested in Vaela.”

Timura stiffened and looked sharply at her. Vaela cringed. Surah! That glib idiot.

Hermit clapped a hand to his head. “Oho! Of course. It all becomes clear now.”

Surah rubbed his hands together gleefully. “And she was an amazing fighter, I understand.”

Vaela pulled Surah back. “Will you–”

Timura rushed to Hermit. “Teach me how to fight.” She grabbed his robe. “Please.”

He gently pried her hands away, holding her wrists. “Look, if you want to learn how to fight, go fight. Play Hoops and get some real experience.”

Timura grabbed Hermit’s hands and pressed them to her forehead. “And if I do that, you’ll teach me?”

Vaela slammed the butt of her stick into the ground. “Stop! You could be hurt, Timura. Some people even die playing. And you,”–she stabbed a finger at Hermit–“why would you suggest something so dangerous? She doesn’t know anything about fighting.”

Timura dropped Hermit’s hands and turned away, not facing Hermit or Vaela. “I can be a good fighter, too, Vaela.”

Vaela took a step towards her. “With training. Look, it’s rough out in the world. Hermit was right. If I had been fighting him for real, I’d be dead ten times over.”

“You… you don’t think I’d make it.”

“It’s not that. But let’s be realistic. You couldn’t save me, just like I couldn’t save you.”

“You came back for me.”

She reached for Timura’s shoulder. “And I’d be dea–”

Timura twisted away. “If you were ever in danger, I’d save you.” She took a step away, towards the stairs.

“Timura, listen to me.”

Timura looked back at her. “I’ll learn to fight, if-if that’s what it takes.” She sprinted for the stairs and Vaela lunged forward, but missed Timura’s wrist.

“Timura!”

A hand wrapped around Vaela’s arm and spun her. She came face-to-face with Surah. He shook his head, eyes filled with angst. “You can’t run out there. The Church is still hunting for us.”

Her vision unfocused and her heart pounded. Only the feeling of her stick and Surah’s hand on her arm kept her anchored. She had to go after her. Timura might get really hurt or worse. And all because of her.

She had to go after her. Church be damned.