That’s a monster? Or a person? It’s a severed head but— It talked! Micah’s thoughts raced.

It was talking. He wanted to talk back to it, have a conversation, find out who or what it was, ask about that sword.

Somehow, without lungs or a throat, the shrunken head produced a voice like honey that smothered the sounds of combat, the blood pumping in his ears, and his own panicked breaths.

It was smooth, understanding, its eyes so bright and attentive. The type of voice he could listen to for hours, reading a book, holding a lecture, giving advice …

“That sword is not yours,” it said.

“You want something to call your own, do you not? Better than this as you deserve, little Sion,” it said.

“And you do deserve it all. I can see that. I can help you. It’ll be cheap, trust me. I can get you a deal,” it promised.

The collector kept its face trained on Sion as it brought its body around like a snake. Metal arms closest to its face reached out for him.

Eyes wide, Sion worked his jaw in the stopping light and managed an, “I—”

Micah tackled him. Full sprint. He went tumbling over the rocks, and Micah slowed to a crawl in the air as the light caught him. A crawl. Not … nothing? He spun, surprised he could still move—albeit slowly.

“Micah?”

“Sorry!” He kicked his hands and knees, swimming through the air. A snarl made his head snap back as a pike stabbed at him. He barely managed to contort his body out of the way.

Somehow, the face was more terrifying than the pike, or even the massive construct behind it, metal arms sticking out in all directions like wild hair.

“NOT YOU, PEASANT!”

Its red skin contorted, pressing together like the folds on a snarling wolf’s mouth. Its hair darkened into ghostly seaweed, and its teeth sharpened to points.

It screamed, “YOU COULDN’T AFFORD MY WARES IF YOU WANTED THEM! YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF ANYONE’S GIFTS! THEY DON’T WANT YOU! THEY DON’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE! YOU SCREWED IT UP! ABOMINATION! PAUPER! BEGONE! YOU’RE NOTHING! GO DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE—”

What the fu—

Micah wanted to shrug it off in bewilderment, but he flinched at every word battering down on him like a hammer. His eyes watered, as if they’d struck some hidden chord.

He thought of his father, bellowing when he’d screwed up bad. His dad who probably hated him now that he had abandoned him.

The pike struck again but the collector turned to follow Shala. The beam vanished, and Micah fell on rock. Someone threw an unfamiliar shield and it splintered the wood of the pike, disarming it.

The head snapped at the air like a feral beast. “THEY PROTECT YOU BECAUSE THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, SAVAGE!”

It moved with the collector and suddenly, its features and voice were smooth again as it purred, “Now, little Sion, where were we—?”

A more familiar javelin struck the head. On contact, its red skin bulged and distorted. Micah thought he saw its eyes roll in annoyance before it popped. Not a trace of smoke or essence spread. It just … left.

The silence in the absence of its voice seemed deafening, before sound flowed back in.

Another metal hand snatched Ryan’s anti-magic javelin out of the air as it passed by and pocketed it, stolen.

Ryan didn’t seem to notice. He ran to Shala, who was out of options and momentum as the collector stared, mouth glowing.

Just as Micah thought the stopping light would activate again, or that the collector would swallow him whole, the blade in his hand vanished. Sion only held the curved top of a walking cane as if it could defend him.

The collector froze. Its glass eyes rolled, roaming as if searching for the blade. His body at first, before the eye movements grew larger to search the terrain.

Its head tilted up and settled on Navid, who stood on the cliff, one hand out as if he had cast a spell, huffing for air.

Someone grabbed Micah from behind, wrapped an arm around him, and carried him away like luggage. Another worker grabbed Shala, while Ryan ran.

The collector kicked someone, rose up, and tilted its head down.

“Parker! Breath attack!” the commander yelled.

It breathed straight down. A noxious, layered yellow cloud spread out around it, reeking of overbearing canola oil, spiced food, and something rotten.

Micah tried to push his way free from the arm carrying him, to defend them, but the moment the gas began to spread, a tunnel of wind tore past them and pushed the gas down the chasm like blowing out a candle.

The collector tried to run, but a group of workers struck its leg out from under it and it skidded into the rock.

A salvo of spells and ammunition were fired at the broken scales of its exposed neck, and one final explosion that rocketed out from its inner machinery.

Its entire mass trembled and fell. The ethereal bronze light within began to dissipate, and the pieces which the light had animated stopped working.

It was dead? Slain. Broken. Whatever.

“I can stand,” Micah said. They were headed for the cave, and Anne waited a few meters away.

She looked relieved to see them and let herself stumble back against the wall.

“Sure,” the man said and set him down, but put a hand on his backpack and pushed him along, pointing. “Go, go, up. Don’t stop.”

“Huh, but—?”

He glanced back, and most of the guild workers were scattering up the walls or into the distance like rats. A group of three had climbed the body and were peering inside its inner workings, including the commander and one of the mages who had cast a ward earlier.

Shala and Ryan reached them, and the man said, “We’re evacuating. In case it blows up.”

Oh.

Ohh, what?!

That seemed evil. What about all the other items inside it?

But before they could file into the cave, the commander called out, his voice alighting in a dozen ears around them, “Clear!”

They stopped mid-stride. Collectively, everyone relaxed like a giant sigh. Micah looked to the others and found more than enough proverbial scrapes and bruises, but nothing that looked like a permanent injury—not among those present of his team at least. Lis and Navid had been on the plateau above.

They were alive.

Alive.

Micah sagged.

Lisa stumbled out of the cave, followed by a trail of essences, and shoved him with a grumble, “Idiots.”

They vented their leftover battle high with curses and exclamations, and checked themselves for injury, both of their teams.

“Sion? Are you sure you’re alright?” Micah asked as he swung his battered backpack around.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled with a thousand-yard stare, unlike the rest of them. He would have pressed him on the issue except that he looked fine unlike the rest of them as well.

Ryan noticed the look and asked, “What was that thing?”

“Yeah!” Micah got his first-aid kit together and put his pack aside, glancing over his shoulder at Lisa. “It talked. Was it a spirit or something?”

He tried to keep his curiosity up, because the alternative was to consider the words it had spoken to him—or screamed, rather.

“It looked like a shrunken head,” Anne answered instead.

“A what?”

“They’ve been popping up in places, a few in treasure chests. Almost every single one found has been malevolent, so don’t listen to what they say, okay?”

Micah nodded. “Are you hurt? Have you checked yourself for injury?” She might not have noticed yet and visually, she looked as though she have had the worst injuries of them all.

Her snowsuit-like armor had been eaten into by the acid rain, then torn by her fall, revealing blue-ish green stuffing, loops, and bronze scales within.

Wool, and … ceratin?

She shook her head. “I have a few bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious. I’m just exhausted. Tapped.” She smiled and it looked tired.

She’d once told him her armor could stop an arrow. Seeing its insides, he wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work, but he trusted her. For now.

He turned to the next person, but Ryan spoke before he could ask if he was hurt, “If it could speak, though, was it alive? Where did it go?”

“Not everything that speaks is alive,” Lisa said, “I could make Sam talk if I wanted to.”

His eyebrows went up, and he looked genuinely interested. “You could?”

“Well, I mean, I can produce sounds with magic. Not that it’s my field of study. And it would be me doing the talking, not it.”

“Oh.”

The wounded guild workers had gathered up into a loose group along one side of the chasm and were being doted on by a few of their colleagues.

One of them, a woman with a first aid satchel much like Micah’s own, glanced over.

She was carefully undressing a man who sat on a boulder with a knife and the help of another person and had to step back to let him try it himself.

“Official guild guidelines is to seal any found heads away and hand them over for inspection,” she commented. “Or to just leave them behind if you can’t. Avoid contact. City might make that official someday, depending.”

“On?” Ryan asked.

“The harm they cause, of course.”

They cut off the man’s shirt and revealed a swollen, purple and black shoulder. This was the man the collector had kicked aside earlier and the damage was striking.

This man was brawny, he looked like a [Fighter], and even without Skills to make him sturdier, his levels would do that to a certain extent.

If it had kicked one of them like that, it might have shattered their shoulder entirely.

The lady rubbed a salve on her colleague’s arm that immediately lightened the bruise a few shades into something that did not physically pain him to look at.

“Ryan, are you hurt?” Micah asked.

He sighed. “No.”

Micah smiled in relief. It was better than the alternative, looking past him at the guild workers. One woman had a head injury further along. She’d been hit by falling rubble during the lightning barrage and was bleeding. He could hear her insisting she was fine, that her helmet had caught the worst of it, but wounds like that could be insidious.

That left Lisa and Navid, who hadn’t been near the fighting. Navid was speaking to a guild worker close to the wreckage, Lisa eying the battlefield.

Loot lay scattered around them, and teams sifted through the rubble, in the process of inspecting the items they found with one mage each.

Even the broken sword shards were being bagged. Micah tried not to dwell on that.

If everyone was fine, that left—

The woman glanced over again and smiled. “You know, official [Healer] policy everywhere is: ‘Help yourself before you help others’.”

Anne frowned and glanced back at him, and her face grew indignant. “Micah, your arm is cracked.”

“Huh?” He stared, suddenly afraid to move, but he felt fine. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t know if he asked because he doubted her, because he wanted to doubt her, that he had hope, or because he was panicking.

Of course. You didn’t always notice when you were hurt. That was why the school taught them to search themselves for injury after combat. Except, if anyone would know, it was her.

Cracked? Like, a crack or a proper fracture …?

Oh please, no.

He couldn’t do with having his arm in a cast now, or a sling. What about their summer plans?

She walked over and gestured at his arm. “You’re bleeding?”

“I thought it was just an abrasion.” From what he could see and feel through his torn climbing shirt, it had seemed that way.

Not use putting it off. He began to take his shirt off.

Anne grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. I meant that. You’re cut.”

Micah froze, arms in his sleeves and his shirt halfway over his head, and tossed his head back in a groan, recognizing the misunderstanding.

Then he realized what it meant. “Wait, Anne. Do you see wounds as cracks in people?”

She hesitated. “Sometimes? With some people.”

“Cool! I mean, uhm, that’s cool to know.” She saw the world as differently from him as he did from others. He wanted to know what it looked like to her.

“Well, do something about it! I’m tapped, I can’t heal you.”

“Right.”

It was just a deep scrape from when he’d hit the cliffside. Exactly the type of wound some healing salve was meant to fix in a matter of days.

The bruises around his legs from the rope felt worse, and Micah knew he would be aching this week. It might even swell up. He’d have to keep an eye that.

Then again, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it? This was what he’d wanted.

Summer.

When all was said and done, his conversations with Anne, Navid, that head that had screamed at him, his own thoughts … how useless he’d been in the fight …

Micah thought of the climbers they’d walked by this morning, using the bare minimum of healing salve to treat their wounds.

He had his entire life to learn how to do that, a year to focus on his studies, but only one summer break where he could whatever he wanted.

He didn’t have to pace himself. He was right on track.

Navid came back from his conversation looking pensive.

“Everything alright?” Shala asked him.

“We can rest here for however long we need,” he said. “They’ll be here for a while, cleaning up the battlefield and securing the area for various groups to come in and inspect and dismantle the collector.”

Anne groaned and relief and found a place to sit. “I’m not moving for, like, at least an hour.”

One of the nearby guild workers getting checked for wounds groaned as well, and he sounded more annoyed. “Escort missions? Great.”

One of his colleagues shoved him.

“They also want to talk to us for their report,” Navid went on, “which suits me just fine, because I would like to talk to someone in charge, too.”

The healer and her charges glanced over. “About …?” the man who had groaned asked.

“Morgana. That she— it has been amassing a hoard is not news, but it was portrayed as a jackpot climbers could aspire for in your latest publishments. You did not say that it and its minions can use those pilfered items. If Morgana can use magic items, I would strongly suggest you make that information public and urge your superiors to squash it before—”

The medic rolled her eyes and went back to treating her colleague, mumbling, “No duh’.”

Navid blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We know Morgana can use items,” the man answered. “She can do more. She can alter them, build traps with them, or trap the items themselves and place them inside chests for climbers to find.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Ryan spoke up, “What, like cursed items from a book?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Sure.”

The medic waved a hand. “Why do you think they ordered this strike? Her minions are going down today and, with or without the help or people who do as they please, she is next.”

Her words weighed heavy in the air, and Micah thought, Today?

“Oh.” Navid looked perplexed. “Well then. It’s reassuring to know it will not be allowed to amass power.”

No wonder people had thought she was the weakest of her kin. She was similar to the Kobolds, Micah realized, a new monster on the lower floors that could exponentially grow in strength if left to its own devices.

“‘Has nothing to do with power,” she said.

“No?”

“It has everything to do with her being a massive security risk outside, and a pain in our ass. We can’t double security or appraisals in the loot tents and slow down traffic even more than it already is because of one annoying monster, not while the city is still recovering, economically and in spirit.”

“Especially with summer break here,” Anne caught on, “and a bunch of annoying kids rushing around, exploring the lower floors?”

She smiled. “That’s part of it.”

“So why not do this earlier? Let me guess, bureaucracy?”

She shrugged. “We kept requesting aid for a joint operation, we kept getting declined. The guild got cold feet until someone thankfully forced the order.”

“So uhm,” Micah spoke up, “this has nothing to do with slaying the guardians to open up the upper floors?”

She made a face. “No? Not our job. Go bother a Guest about it. We want to keep the loot tents safe and running.”

“Oh … thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” she said and moved down the line of resting people out of earshot.

“So,” Anne said, “lunch?”

The lunch he’d packed—sandwiches—had been squashed into mush or thin plates, reminding him once again to take sturdier meals with him into the Tower.

Shala still looked a little out of it, and Micah asked, “Are you sure you’re fine? I have healing supplies. School-approved, so you don’t have to fear them for my being a hack.”

“I don’t think you’re a hack, Stranya. I’m just exhausted, but I am fine. I have gear. Actually …” He checked his breast pocket and brought out a dark signet ring.

“Lisa, could you please take a look at this and tell me if you think it’s broken? My descent from the cliff was a little more jarring than I’m used to. It’s a ring of protection.”

She wrenched her eyes away from the loot the workers were carrying off to take it, held it to her ear, and gave it a tap. After a few moments of silence, she gave it back with a shake of her head.

“I don’t sense anything. Good chance it’s broken.”

He grimaced. “I feared as much. Maybe one of our artificers will buy it, or I can save it for a scrap metal haul.”

“Ryan also lost his javelin,” Micah spoke up, “and Anne’s armor … How do you— we— climbers normally handle that? Should we all pitch in from today’s earnings or …?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I’ve had the ring for years,” Shala said, “it didn’t break because of today. All gear wears down eventually.”

“You can probably get your javelin back once they’re done sorting out the loot,” Navid said to Ryan. “I can go ask if you would like.”

“No, uh— It’s fine, I can do it,” Ryan said. “About the exhaustion, I was going to say, I could help by including you in my strength aura?”

Navid perked up at that. “You could, huh? Is it strong?” He had seemed interested in that once before, Micah remembered.

“Wait, we were not included already?” Shala frowned. “It’s not passive?”

“No—”

“He has to meditate!” Micah jumped in, suddenly excited, because Ryan was going to do this after all?

“Actually, I have been practicing how to do it by concentrating, like with my footing—”

“But you’re good at meditating. Wouldn’t it be better to do it that way?” He already had the hang of advanced concepts people took years to learn. That way, he could show off … by sitting around?

Micah might not have thought this through.

“I’m doing it this way,” Ryan insisted.

“Okay.” He backed off.

“And no, it’s not strong. It might get stronger further down the line, I don’t know, but it’s subtle. From what I’ve seen it offers more of a … base strength to rely on? As in, if you are on your last leg, you’ll at least have something left. More like endurance.”

“Huh. Still, please do.” Navid smiled.

Ryan turned. “Anne?”

Lisa had given her one of her jerky strips, and she finished tearing a chunk off with her teeth—her head jerked back—and smiled. “Yes, please! Thank you.”

Micah smiled and asked Lisa, “Can I have some of that?” His own food didn’t look all that appealing. Maybe he should just make church cakes from now on.

She reluctantly handed him another strip and ripped her own apart. He checked its patterns—sewer rat; the same as usual—and chewed. “Tashty,” he garbled and gave her a thumbs-up.

They ate, waited for Ryan to include the others in their aura, answered the workers’ questions when they got to them, stretched to lessen the pain for tomorrow, and waited until they got Ryan’s javelin back.

A contingency of workers had already split off from the group and headed back with their wounded and to send word to the guild.

Mr. Flor, of all people, was the one to return the javelin to them. He looked far more relaxed now that the battle was over.

“You know,” Lisa told him, “not all of us are rich and we did help. Can’t we at least have some of the loot? A single scale to show off as a souvenir?”

“Or the chunks of the broken items?” Micah added.

“One of its eyes?” Navid asked.

“That feathered arm it used to call for help?” Ryan asked.

“Or the golem arm with the preservation bubble?” Micah went a second time, making up for Shala and Anne. They didn’t seem the greedy type.

The [Ranger] stared down at them and asked, “Are you done?”

“Is that a no?”

“Again, we probably saved your life if you really had wanted to challenge that thing on your own. Considering that, and that you ruined our plan by showing up—not that it’s your fault; you couldn’t have known—I would say we’re even.”

“Pshaw. We could have beaten it,” Anne said. “It’s magic items were just a surprise.”

“Mhm. With all due respect, Ms. Heswaren. I accept that you believe that, but I doubt it myself.”

“I’m telling you—”

“How exactly would we have done that?” Ryan interrupted. “I’m genuinely curious. I mean sure, if it hadn’t been armed we could have used Madin’s sword—”

“No. I meant, if the collector did not have any items, we could have beaten it without our emergency gear,” Anne said in a slower, more confident voice, “and with its emergency gear, we could have beaten it with our own.”

The man and Ryan stared at her, doubt written plainly on their faces. Before either could say something though, she gestured, “Did you not see what I did to that wall?”

They turned to the giant landslide she and two others had caused, a pyramid of rock and hollow in one side of the chasm.

The initial cut, however, had been inflicted by her, and if she had thrown the sword at the collector itself …

Micah connected the dots. “Wait, are you saying you could have cut it in half?!”

“Yes!”

“It’s a really freaking cool sword, okay?” Navid said with a proud smile. “My father gave it to me himself.”

“But—” he started and didn’t have the words. His mind played back all of the people, preparation, and resources they had needed to bring it down. He weighed all that against a single sword.

Ryan asked, “How? Doesn’t it have limits?”

“More powerful magical constructs win out over weaker ones. The sword could cut through most monsters up to the old … eighth floor, I believe?”

Navid nodded.

“And it can cut through solid objects. The collector is half machine, half spell … Okay, maybe I couldn’t have cut through it entirely, but I think I could have done a lot of damage.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Ryan snapped. “Seriously, Anne, someone could have died!”

“Hey,” Micah complained. He always said he was too loud, but Ryan could jump from happy to angry in a heartbeat.

She stood her ground. “Because we would have gotten in trouble if I had?”

“Huh?!”

“What if I had hurt one of the guild workers?” she asked. “Or even if I had done it perfectly and slain the collector in one hit, we would have been in trouble with the guild for recklessly stealing their kill.”

“If the sword struggles to affect forces more powerful than itself,” Lisa said, “it might not be able to hurt someone above a certain level.”

“Yeah,” Anne said, “obviously. But what is that level? Would you want to risk it?”

“Compared to the risk of a landslide?” Ryan asked.

“I had to do something. I trusted in the preservation of the Tower and their mobility.”

“She’s right, you know,” Mr. Flor cut in. “There’s history there of high-leveled climbers doing as they please without regard to law or guild authority. Often, they will hurt people or cause damages as a consequence of reckless actions, then refuse to take responsibility since they were ‘just trying to help’. Many people don’t seem to understand that good intentions don’t eliminate the need for consequences. The policy is to not interfere without permission.”

“But that’s stupid!” Ryan said.

He shrugged. “It’s a consequence. Not that you are high-leveled, but it’s the principle that matters here.”

“Sorry,” Anne said. “I mean, if I had really thought we were in serious danger, I would have defended us, but I had my lessons stuck in my head and—”

“No,” Ryan said, still scowling, “sorry, it’s not your fault then.” He said it like he had a few choice insults for other people instead.

“I’ll admit,” Mr. Flor said, “in light of that information, you did try your best to fix your mistake and helped us out some … I’ll see if what I can swing. Maybe I can get you a scale or other memento after all.

“At the least, you can ask Tulian over there if he can hook you up with some maps of the area.” He pointed at a colleague who was drinking from a canteen. “We need them both, right? Rewards and punishments.”

Anne smiled. “Yes, please! Thank you.”

“No promises—”

“Oh, no. Of course, not.” She sounded so sincere. Somehow, she’d managed to win the two-faced jerk over.

Micah awkwardly took a step closer, just to be near her.

Tulian gave them some maps, and they checked them against what they’d seen from their plateau earlier. They also got directions to the nearest exit, which might have otherwise taken them hours to find—if they found one at all.

Exits were rarer in the new Tower, extending the average minimum amount of time you had to spend inside it for every trip.

That informed their next destination, and before they left, Anne was awarded a large scale that looked almost rusted on the outside and a cleaner bronze on the inside, close to gold.

Her smile was worth the entire ordeal on its own.

Navid continued to use his father’s sword and actually took the lead for once, which meant they watched his back as he fought.

“Does it have a name?” Micah asked after he severed another bundle of chains, and a flock of bound birds on the ground all burst into smoke.

Sam dashed through the cloud, snatching up crystals, and turned in a large circle as it was too quick to stop its own momentum.

“Name?”

“Your sword. Every cool sword—well every item, really—deserves a name. Right?” He looked at Ryan, who shrugged.

Navid scoffed, “No.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Good luck.” Anne rolled her eyes. “We’ve had this conversation before. He won’t listen.”

“Because I am not some idiot [Adventurer]. Only someone who has never learned to handle a sword would actually name one.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“What about Indenture?” Ryan suggested out of the blue, eyes up in consideration.

Anne lit up. “Oh, that’s a good one!”

“I am not naming my father’s sword.”

“I had a few cool ones, too, like Golden Noose, Bonds Blade, Fool’s Gold—”

“Fool’s Gold?” Ryan asked.

“Because nobles are fools, nowadays? And it’s very ‘noble’, don’t you think?”

“Ah, good one. But it’s a little …”

“Self-deprecating?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Could you name the sheath and blade two different things?” Micah thought of their effects. In a grim voice, he said, “Like Judge and Executioner!”

“None of you are naming my sword, either!”

“It does have a documented name, for legal purposes,” Shala spoke up.

Navid spun on him. “Don’t you dare.”

“It does?” Micah asked. “Tell us, tell us!”

They bugged him about it for the rest of the trip, until Navid threatened to put it away. Out of sight out of mind.

“You should probably stop using it anyway,” Anne said.

“If you want to clear the way, be my guest.” He swept an arm out, inviting her to take the lead.

Their pace had slowed. They were dragging themselves up a rocky incline that ran up alongside a cliff to another step well or plateau.

He was starting to wish he had a stamina potion or vitality gummies with him, though growing reliant on either of those was probably a bad idea.

Anne passed, and Navid turned back to fight. Finally, they crested the top and found … a garden.

Like the step wells, it was a cylinder cut out of the cliff. Except this area opened up to the chasm on the left and was half the size of the step wells. It wasn’t ruined, either.

The grass was cut. A small stream ran through the circular space and fed into a pond in the center. A small dirt bridge went over one side with grass growing over it. Stepping stones made up a rocky path through the water on the other side of the pond. Low stone fences ringed circular lawns and curving paths.

Most importantly, a copse of thick grey sticks grew from a patch of duff around the pond.

“Stone shoots!” Micah yelled, all else forgotten. He almost ran forward but stopped at the edge, as if standing at an imaginary fence.

Traps. Always had to check for traps first, especially if something looked too good to be true.

“Are those valuable?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” Navid and he said at the same time, Micah with far more enthusiasm. He urged Lisa to check already.

“I am, I am,” she said. “Jeez.”

Red see-through lizards walked through the grass. No horrible monsters shot up to gobble them up. The breeze was gentle, the brook babbled, and even the essences were calm.

Ryan told them he didn’t hear any movement except for critters. A butterfly flew in the distance and Micah wanted to catch it, but he also didn’t want to ruin this sanctuary.

“Seems like a safe area,” Anne said, “but then again, most trapped areas look safe.”

Part of Micah hoped this place was trapped to the teeth, so he could have an excuse to strip it down for parts without feeling guilty.

A hint of a flower bed came into view around a corner as they slowly walked onto the lawn, like rubbing salt into the wound.

He headed for stone shoots and considered his knife. “They’re hard to cut, though,” he mumbled. “Hey, Navid?”

“Yes?”

“If I asked if you could help me cut the stone shoots out of the ground with your super sharp, super fancy, super awesome sword, you would say …?”

“No,” Shala answered for him.

Navid smiled. “Yes.”

“No!”

“C’mon. We’re already getting in trouble for using it. Might as well make the most of it and break a few more rules, just for today?”

“That way lies madness.”

“Wait, you’re getting in trouble?” Micah asked. “Why? The sword is for emergencies, and you used it for one.”

“Not really,” Navid said, “we sought out the collector instead of sticking to challenges we can handle. You have to remember, every magic item wears down and breaks eventually, even this one.”

He held the vermeil blade up in consideration as he headed for the stone shoots and said, “That stunt Anne pulled early probably shaved a few years off its life.”

“Well then don’t use it!” Micah rushed to stop him. He remembered all the monsters he had cut apart with it and his voice rose another fraction. “WHY HAVE YOU BEEN USING IT ALL THIS TIME? Are you insane?!”

“Thank you!” Shala said.

Navid chuckled. Their group fanned out, following slow dotted red lines through the grass to look for dangers.

Well, Micah assumed the others were doing that. He kept an eye out for himself but went straight for the copse in the center of the garden.

“Jeez, I can chop down some stone bamboo myself,” he mumbled to himself and considered his knives, then his gloved hands. “No need to damage a priceless artifact.”

“Sorry,” Anne said, “maybe we should have run for the cave, but I didn’t know if there would be cover within or if the collector had any tricks up its sleeve.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Navid said, “better to use it than risk one of you getting hurt before the Registry Ball, or before our family trips this summer.”

“You’re going somewhere?” Ryan asked.

At the grass-covered bridge, Anne took in a sharp breath and yelled, “Watermelons!”

They rushed to her side. On the other side of the circle, past the river, the grass, and a low stone fence, was a vegetable patch filled with vines, leaves, and large green … fruit?

Lisa directed more summons in that direction, and they checked underneath the low bridge for monsters or treasure before they stepped onto it.

On the far side of the watermelon patch, a weathered marble statue stood on a pedestal. It was a woman missing one arm and her nose, similar to the statue they’d used to climb down into the stepwell this morning, but smaller and in better shape.

Micah wondered if that could be valuable. The stone shoots were certainly valuable, but artwork?

If he owned a house, he might have tried to haul it away and set it up as a piece of decoration, but what if he found another later?

Navid threw an arm over Shala’s shoulders as they stepped off and smiled. “We’re summering in Lighthouse.”

Micah’s eyebrows went up. “Lighthouse?”

“Yeah, my family has dealings with the railroad project. There are people we’re supposed to visit.” He turned to Anne. “Hey, maybe we’ll go sailing, too. On a smaller boat. Or we could rent some water walking gear.”

“Wave walking can be fun. I doubt our ship’s captain would let us try. We’ll have a tight schedule, but I’ll enjoy the view.”

They spoke so quickly, it was hard for Micah to say something without being rude. As soon as there was the slightest pause, though, he blurted out, “Wait, you’re leaving, too?”

“Yeah, I’m uhm— You know how my distant family works as wandering judges and advisers on the continent? My parents thought it might be good for me to spend some time with them instead of just reading diaries.”

“But— When? Where? For how long?” What about their date … which he had not yet asked her about … but he was going to! At the ball.

“Uh, two days after the party, I think? I’m headed to Westford to leave by ship. It’s been ages since I last went, and we’ll stop in at some of the Illic Isles along the way. I’m looking forward to it.”

She was sailing across the sea? Even with a ship from home and with real [Sailors], that would take ages.

“I’m looking forward to deep-sea fishing,” Shala said in a conversational tone. “Most restaurants at shore will prepare your catch for you. I caught a shark once.”

“Liar,” Anne accused him with a smile.

He chuckled. “I helped. It bit my lure, though the sailors had to reel it in. It threatened to pull me overboard. It was tasty. Much better than Sharkhound, in my opinion.”

“Really?” Lisa said. “I guess hybrids can have an acquired taste. Still, one’s magical and the other is … usually not.”

“Usually,” Navid said. “Imagine eating a deep-sea horror the Overseas Forts are so afraid of, just to mess with them.”

There was a longing in Lisa’s eyes as she said, “Yeah. I could go for some seafood.”

Micah had never even seen the ocean, aside from illustrations and illusions. He didn’t know what to feel or what to say as he listened. He felt like a nobody.

“Hey, how about we focus?” Ryan grumbled. “We can chat after we leave or make sure this area is safe.”

“Right,” Anne said and hopped the fence to the watermelon patch. Shala and Navid followed. Ryan headed for the ‘waterfall,’ the thin trickle of water that ran down the cliffside to the far right.

Lisa hung back and looked around, conducting her swarm no doubt.

“Are watermelons valuable?” Micah asked.

“They can be,” Anne told him. “Navid, what do you think?”

“They look healthy. Nice sizes, shapes, colors, stems, markings. Just about ripe … Not as good as the ones you would find in the Gardens, of course—”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“—but they’d probably fetch a good price in any market.”

“Are they magical?”

“Huh?” Anne looked back as if he’d said something funny. “No, they’re fruit. Like apples and oranges.”

“So why …?” he mumbled.

At least, Lisa was more interested in the valuable alchemical ingredients. He turned to her and saw her turn her head sideways to test her teeth against one of the shoots. They clacked and she made a face, shook her head, and strode past him.

“Oh, come on!”

“Lisa! Can you cast [Appraise Creature] on these to check if there’s anything hiding inside?”

She frowned and said, “Sure …,” but sounded anything but sure.

Micah wished Mason or Brent were here. They would appreciate the ingredients for what they were.

“What?” Anne asked.

“I haven’t actually used the spell that often. I wasn’t aware you could use it like that.”

“Wait, you’re a [Summoner] who got [Appraise Creature] early and you’ve never even used it?” Navid asked.

“No?” Lisa hopped the fence. “I mostly deal with one type of monster. I have no need to appraise monsters to gather information like other summoners do.”

“And people say I’m ungrateful.”

She cast the spell, blinked in confusion, and gave them the all-clear.

Navid plucked the watermelon from its vine.

The moment he did, the wind picked up and Micah froze with a frown as he felt a hint of something on the breeze. Not magic, but almost something like … emotion?

He looked to Lisa and followed her eyes back to its source where the statue of the woman had stood up on its pedestal. The day seemed to darken around it as the wind raged and a pink and green sheen shimmered across its weathered stone. Its eyes glowed.

It took a step forward, the wind screamed, and thorned vines tore out of the dirt all around them, destroying the neatly-trimmed lawns.

Micah groaned.