The earth rose to meet Ablee like a fist. A deafening CRACK split the mountainside as the fake Karich’s massive frame crashed down, shattering stone and sending a shock wave rippling through the ground. Ablee's lungs collapsed as she broke the surface of dirt-turned paint, plummeting into it. The suffocating pressure became unbearable as she sank deeper. She wrenched her body and twisted, spinning into an abyss of thick, syrupy black.

She had no breath to scream, lost in oppressive silence. The liquid soil pressed in from all sides, clinging to her skin and filling her nose and ears. Ablee thrashed, clawing at the formless expanse, her limbs flailing in search of something solid. There was nothing, just the endless swirl of dark liquid, a cage of her own making, suffocating her.

Move. MOVE! Her mind screamed the command, but her body felt leaden, her lungs screaming for air. Panic churned in her gut. But then—faint, distorted, and distant—a voice cut through the void.

“Ey lass, ye' down there!?” It was Pin-Beard’s unmistakable holler, warped and garbled as if spoken into a can on the other end of a string.

Her panic lost some grip, wrestled away by the familiar sound. Her chest heaved with the effort to stay calm, to listen. The voice grew louder, more insistent. “GET YERSELF UP HERE, GIRL!”

A flicker of determination reignited in her chest. Ablee reoriented her body, kicking her legs, and pushed through the viscous soup. Her hands clawed forward, finding no purchase but refusing to quit. The sound of Pin-Beard’s coaxing voice grew sharper in the distance.

Then—contact. Her fingers brushed against something solid, cold, and unyielding. She strained, digging her nails into the surface. Her muscles screamed in protest, and her lungs burned as she forced her way upward. The blackness pulled at her, trying to drag her back, but she howled through gritted teeth.

Vice-like fingers of two hands enclosed around her exposed wrist and then yanked. She was dragged from the ground. As her head burst through the surface, she gulped up the sharp, pine-scented air of the mountains. Coughing violently, her chest heaved as she was pulled up, inch by inch. The surreal colors of the breaking dawn flickered across her vision, and she recognized the flowing blonde hair of the assassin. Behind Zeph, a rope twirled in the wind, anchored up above in the gaping wall of the Keep. The other girl, Rhody, watched from the newly demolished balcony, her chest heaving, "How about some warning... the next time you jump out of a building, Zeph!? That's gotta be at least... a four-story drop!"

Ablee collapsed, brown paint dripping from her trembling hands. A sharp laugh escaped her, bitter and triumphant.

The golem's wreckage groaned under its own weight, a jagged mess of broken chalk-stained stone. Ablee pushed up to a seated position, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Her ribs protested each movement, but her eyes stayed locked to a large chunk of debris. Half of Pin-Beard’s chalky figure was illustrated along its side, cut at the waist by a jagged break in the stone. Depicted upside-down, his head was buried beneath the earth's surface. "Well, this sure isn't ideal," he chuckled.

“Hang on, you old barnacle,” Ablee muttered, crawling her way over to him. Pulling herself up to a squat, she grabbed hold of the uneven edges of a hunk of rubble. The jagged stone dug into her palms, but she didn't flinch. Leaning into it, her muscles trembled, and she wedged her shoulder beneath its immense weight.

“C’mon…” she growled, her voice raw with effort. The stone shifted a fraction of an inch, groaning like a grizzly rising from hibernation. Her knees buckled, but she dug her heels in, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. Her breath hissed through gritted teeth, "Gimme a hand, witch!"

Ablee received no response.

"Fine then..." She powered on and shoved with a final, primal roar. The mass rose and crashed to its side, sending up a cloud of rainbow-colored chalk dust. Pin-Beard’s dirt-smeared face let out a guffawing laugh. He adjusted his tricorn hat with exaggerated dignity. “That’s an ounce or two better, thank ya, girl!”

Ablee collapsed to her knees, “You’re welcome,” she snapped back, wiping a streak of dripping paint from her brow. Pin-Beard raised his mug to her, his grin as wide as his cartoonish face could allow. “Aye! Never doubted ya for a second!”

Before Ablee could retort, the air shifted. The living wind howled, curling around them like a hunting predator. The voices of the chalk villagers, trapped within its whirling form, rose in a dissonant chorus. Pin-Beard looked up, his grin turning wistful. “Well now. Guess my ship’s leaving port!”

“What?” Ablee asked, her chin dropping, “Where are you all going?”

The wind caught against his chalky form, swirling him into its spectral embrace. He rose with the storm, his tricorn hat barely holding to his head. “Wherever the wind takes us, lass! That’s the pirate way!” he hollered, his voice echoing as he was carried upward. “You got us out of that brig, dear girl! Give Cline our best, and your father your worst!”

Ablee stared into the onslaught of color, the storm growing more brilliant with each passing second. As Pin-Beard ascended, the inevitable happened—his hat caught in the wind, whipping away and dissipating in a jaunty spiral. “Wait—blasted thing!” he yelled, flailing in mid-air to grab it. His form smeared into a trail of black and red dust. The ridiculous scramble drew a snort of laughter from Ablee, her chest heaving as she watched him vanish into the whirlwind.

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The storm rose higher and higher, the voices of the villagers retreating with it. Completing a final figure-eight, it whisked away, Tower-ward. Ablee sat back, paint-streaked and aching, a crooked grin tugging at her lips. “What a clown.”

She pulled herself upright, leaning against the golem’s broken remains. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

A sound cut through the quiet—the scraping of rope against stone. Ablee’s smile faltered as her head tilted toward the noise. The taut line quivered as a figure descended it in frantic slides. It was Rhody, the younger one with the keen eyes and nervous hands, her red pouch bouncing against her chest.

Ablee’s brow arched. “She doesn’t waste any time,” she muttered.

Rhody clattered into the gravel at the keep’s base with a graceless thud, immediately stumbling over to Zeph. The assassin lay in the rubble nearby, her flat-brimmed hat thrown aside. Her breathing was shallow, and blood pooled at her side.

“Zeph!” Rhody's frantic voice called out as dropped to her knees beside the woman. She shook Zeph's shoulder, but the woman only groaned, her eyes fluttering. Rhody gasped, “Oh gods. That's so much blood. Not good—not good.”

Ablee ambled closer. “Yeah, Rinval stung her pretty bad…”

Rhody’s head snapped up, her face flushed with anger and panic. “You! She pushed herself this far to save you! Fix her like you did before!”

“Save me?" Ablee ran a hand through her hair, "I had already reached the surface…”

Rhody’s voice caught as Zeph’s hand weakly rose, catching her wrist. “Stop… bickering,” Zeph muttered, her voice thin but edged with steel. She lifted her head just enough to pin Ablee with a glare. “You… You’re my captive...”

Ablee crouched down, her grin sharp. “Oh yeah? Just let me know when you’re ready to slap the cuffs on. Oh, wait.” She tapped her wrist mockingly. “You’d need to actually stand for that.”

“Enough!” Rhody snapped, surprising even herself. “If you’re going to mock her, then at least do your little trick to stop the bleeding!”

Ablee’s expression softened just slightly. Brushing the painted dirt from her hands, she leaned over Zeph. “Fine. But you’ll need to tend her wound when I’m done. My stuff doesn’t last long.”

Ablee undid the top two buttons of Zeph’s black blouse and peeled its fabric away from her shoulders. As she’d done before, she finger-painted clean liquid skin onto Zeph’s dribbling wound. Rhody watched with wide, anxious eyes, her knuckles white as they gripped Zeph’s clammy hand. The assassin winced faintly, her breath shallow but steadying.

“There, I’d say we’re even,” Ablee declared, plopping down onto the ground to rest her head against a broken stone. Rhody looked to Zeph with concern before retreating to the rope, heading back up to retrieve her pack.

She re-descended with the pack a short while later, having shackled Rinval in the cell. Zeph and Ablee both lay sprawled out, Zeph’s shallow breaths punctuated by Ablees irksome snoring.

Rhody dug through the pack for alcohol and bandages. The logbook caught her eye, its black leather cover peeking out of its pocket. She turned to look at the wild-haired girl snoozing beside her charge. She’s on the list, Rhody thought, One of the six Urough’s, guilty of consuming Ambrosia. We’re going to have to kill her...I should have told Zeph earlier…

Applause hung limp on Zeph’s hip, gleaming in the Tower-light. Rhody’s mind twisted, and she felt slimy just considering it. We can’t let her get away, and Zeph won’t have the strength when they wake up.

She trudged over to them, loose stone crackling beneath her boots. Ablee stirred for a moment, shifting onto her side and pulling her knees to her chest.

Applause’s presence purred to Rhody. This is an acolyte’s duty.

But another voice echoed in her ear, Brenna’s, her friend who had abandoned this honor to her, “It’s not as great as it seems.”

----------------------------------------

When Zeph stirred, the warmth of the sun radiated through her hat, which Rhody had laid across the side of her face. Zeph grabbed its top and lifted it, her eyes fixing on Ablee. “Rhody… you should… tie her up…” she murmured, her voice raspy but firm.

Rhody, perched on a stone’s edge, looked at the girl, “I don’t know if that’d do us much good. You saw what she’s capable of.”

“Heh, guess you’re right… We need her, though… She can probably help us find Karich…” Zeph rolled her shoulders and groaned, “Ahh, that pinches.”

“Zeph, about that…” Rhody stumbled over her words.

“What is it?” Zeph said, leveling her eyes with Rhody’s.

“Well… I know you’ve told me many times… Not to discuss future marks…” The words slipped from Rhody in hesitant spurts.

Zeph winced as she raised her left hand to pinch her nose, “Stop… I don’t care what you think I need to know. If it’s going to pull my focus from Karich, stop. Just stop.”

“I… Alright.” Rhody turned to look at Ablee, the girl’s eyes were blinking awake.

Ablee tilted her head up to take in the two and let out an exaggerated yawn, “Looks like you survived!”

Zeph’s head spun to face her, her whip-like reflexes pulling the little remaining blood from her face. She went white and lay her scowling cheek on the ground, “Yes,” Zeph’s shaking right hand pulled Applause from its holster and pointed it at Ablee, “Now don’t do anything stupid. You’re coming with us.”

Ablee snorted, leaning back on her hands with a smirk. “Really? That’s the first thing you have to say? Not, ‘Thanks for patching me up, Ablee. You’re a lifesaver?”

Zeph tried to sit up, wincing as Rhody rushed to steady her. Her golden hair clung to her face, streaked with sweat and dirt. “You’re helping us find your father,” she said, her tone still sharp despite the weakness in her voice.

Ablee rolled her eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to turn that offer down? He’s going up The Tower. So am I. Join my climbing party, and you can do whatever you want to him when we pass him by. After I’ve had my turn, of course!”

Her lip twitched, and Zeph lowered Applause, “We’re not joining your climbing party. You are my captive. I run this show.”

Ablee stared at her for a long moment. Finally, she lets out a low laugh. “You two can call this whatever you want, I’m just glad to have you on board!”