Making things out of nothing can puff up your ego something fierce. It's a good thing the fuckers who like to blow smoke up their own asses usually lack this power. The ones that don't, though...

I don't know how deep, physically-speaking, this asshole in the ground is. Metaphysically-speaking, it feels like an old hooker's slit, and about as welcoming.

Thankfully, my special snowflake Deep School tricks don't need full information to use. This stairway is extending itself as we haul ass down it, and the bastard strolling on fucking air alongside us couldn't fall if he wanted.

There was probably a metaphor in there.

More and more fuck-off huge maggots, alongside other jumbo-bugs, like the ones we'd smoked in that alternate future, came up to drag our asses down and do nasty, nasty things to our bodies. Dresden blows them apart while shouting 'Fuego!' and 'Forzare!' because, apparently, people where he comes from are taught spells in Latin, despite their wizards' order having been founded in fucking Britain-by Merlin himself, to boot. Or so Dresden says.

The Walking Man-because you can't be a big boy around here without a fucking retarded nickname-turns them into bug confetti with six-shooters that either believe they're machineguns, or don't give a shit that they're not. Bet he wouldn't wanna trade either.

As for little ol' me? Well, you'd be surprised what you can do with a Colt as long as you've got infinite ammo. I occasionally bark some Hellion hoodoo, turning bugs inside out or twisting them into pretzels, but, for now, I just want to get the most out of my gun. Feels like I'm in a fucking videogame, shooting without reloading, but who cares? It's fucking sweet.

Eventually, we reach the World Beneath, or at least one of the paths that lead to it. I know, because the place smells like Piss Alley back in LA, and looks worse.

I hop off the staircase from a height that would break a human's legs, knees bending easily upon landing. Dresden does too, body bolstered by the parasitic shape around his soul. He shucks it off as soon as he straightens up. Smart.

The Walking Man just drops from midair onto the ground, no worse for the wear. I'm kinda surprised the floor didn't break under him, or fuck off from his presence. I would have, in its place.

The tunnel's walls are covered in old stone bricks, pitted and scarred. If you saw them in London, you'd have probably believed they were laid by the Romans.

Hah. No human has ever touched these stones, and I envy them. Hadleigh used to trap me in all sorts of things-literally-, but I got to shoot him after. Fair's fair.

I'm more concerned with the tunnel's new decorations, though. Bugs, dead, but just as ugly as their living selves. They weren't killed by a single thing, though:some have been cut apart, in neat pieces, some have been reshaped like putty, and the rest somehow look like they were scared to death.

Must have been pretty fucking scary, to show on their buggy faces after death.

"Any idea who could have done this?" Dresden asks, moving bug corpses from his path with his staff as we walk.

"I've got an idea," I say around a Malediction. "Hope I'm wrong, though."

"Welcome to my world," the fucker replies, because of course he does. Shit, can you believe this guy's a dad? His poor kid, and I hope she takes after her mom, is definitely gonna be tortured with his dumbass jokes from the moment he gets back.

"Do you know where we're going?" I ask the Walking Man, turning aside from Dresden. "Or, at least, who came here before us?"

"I don't,' he says, sounding frustrated. "Must mean I'm not meant to know yet."

We're all bugs on God's windshield. Even the bugs he picks out.

"So," Dresden says. "This trip is probably gonna take some time. Wanna tell jokes-"

"No!" I say immediately.

"Jeez, fine. I won't offend your sensibilities, Stark." He says, shooting me an annoyed glance.

"Be sure not to, if you find 'em," I reply.

Dresden looks at the Walking Man, a thoughtful look on his face. "Is it okay for you to kill? You know, being beholden to God and all."

"The Commandments are meant for people," The Walking Man says tersely.

Any attempts at conversation die out shortly after. It doesn't take long before we reach our destination. I only know it's it because it's the end of our path, in every sense of that phrase.

Or, at least, that's what it wants us to think. Important places, in and around the Nightside, come with attitudes.

The circular door leads in a room that's either covered in or made of glass. It's just as covered in bugs and their guts as the tunnel.

I'm more interested in the three guys outside the door, though. Their backs are turned to us, and their bodies are tense, like they're expecting something bad, but...not from our direction.

Count Video could be a big player, if he ever grew a pair, which means we're not in danger any time soon. Video manipulates probability, and reality itself. Kinda like Hadleigh's brother Tommy, but whereas Tommy won his gift at poker, Video received his powers from someone.

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

Or so Hadleight believes.

King of Skin is one of the sleaziest motherfuckers in the Nightside, which is saying something, especially since I've started living there. I don't know what he looks like, because he's surrounded by an illusion. He can summon people's worst nightmares into reality, and he knows everyone's dirty little secrets. He gets his rocks of saying said secrets out loud, in public. He once tried to pull that shit with me, but I shot him once it became clear what he was about to say. I hope he didn't take it to heart, especially since I shot him in the face.

Madman, as everyone calls him, known as Sigismund in the Deep School, is living proof that even failures can be fucking terrifying. Poor bastard saw the truth, but couldn't handle it, and flew off his rocker. Now, he warps reality without even trying to. And you better hope he believes you're real, or you won't be for long.

"The Lord of Thorns... no!" The Walking Man says, speeding towards the door. The three turn at his voice, and their eyes almost bug out as they recognize him. Madman looks like he's trying to decide whether he's sober or high.

Dresden and I try to keep up with him, but fail. He's in the room long before us.

"The Lord of Thorns is in there?" I ask Video, because there's no fucking way I'm talking with the other two.

"He...was," Video says hesitatingly, sounding shaken. His eyes shift around quickly, like he's waiting for the bugs to rise from the dead, and magic spins around his clenched fists.

Dresden and I walk past them, and inside the room, we see the Walking Man leaning over a bloody slab in the centre, talking with Julien Advent.

Advent usually looks like the hero on a pulp adventure book cover, but now, his opera wear is torn and frayed. In one hand, he holds a sword covered in bug blood and guts. In the other, a long, gnarled staff, made from a splinter that fell from the Tree of Life and grew into a new tree.

The Lord of Thorns used to wield it, in his capacity as the Nightside's overseer.

Advent nods at us as we enter, then looks back at the Walking Man.

"I found him torn apart," Advent says, indicating the slab. "And the monsters ate the remains. We killed them, but...it was too late." He sighs, then tries to smile gratefully. "At least you're here now. You might be diminished, in the Nightside, but you can still take his place..."

"No," the Walking Man says firmly. "That has never been, and will never be my purpose. I am an enforcer, not a guardian. And the Lord of Thorns is not gone."

He takes the staff from Advent's hand, blindingly fast, and rams it through his heart. Dresden and I tense, but the deed is done long before our brains catch up.

Before our eyes, Advents shakes and shudders, but does not bleed. Slowly, almost hesitantly, the staff disappears into his body, merging with it. His skin takes on the colour and texture of bark, and his dark hair becomesthe green of leaves. An equally-green, long beard sprouts from his face.

The new being sways in place briefly, as if drunk, then comes to his senses.

"What... what is..." He murmurs, then raises his eyes and sees the Walking Man. "You? What in His name are you doing here? I don't need you meddling in my domain."

"Clearly, you do. Feel free to thank me."

The being frowns, then looks down at his body. "What is... Julien Advent? Ah." The being smiles to himself. "Well, it could have been worse."

The beings is speaking in two voices now:Advent's, and an older, rougher one. Like an Old Testament prophet, come down from the mountain with bad news.

The being extends a hand, and the Lord of Thorns' staff appears in it. "Something was done to me," the being says, frowning in frustration. "Something...that took away my power, and my concentration. Why else would I be asleep?"

"Do you remember who destroyed your body? Your previous body?" The Walking Man asks.

The being snorts. "I only saw a face as I lay dying. She caught me in my sleep. I don't know what happened after."

"She?" The Walking Man repeats. "Ah...of course. It makes sense now."

The being nods, eyes lighting up in understanding. "Yes...yes! But...it's too soon for this. She should not have come until years later, and she should never have destroyed..."

"Things are rarely as they should be," the Walking Man says. "As we all know. As for you...you need a new name, no? The Lord of Thorns failed."

The being nods, thorns rising from his forehead, encircling his head. "Yes...like the Shepherd, we shall atone for the sins...all sins. We shall be the Thorncrown."

Meanwhile, Dresden and I glance at each other.

"You getting any of this shit?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "Hell no."