I twist my wrist to look at the Bloody Palm as a feeling in my chest makes me cough, and more flies come from my lungs just as I can feel a fever burn in my mind. The sensation and the situation alone make me pause in my Ether, the shock overwhelming the awe. As my Ether slows and I force the things born of my Madness to disappear, I stare at my hand, unable to understand what happened. My fever fades simultaneously as the feeling of something within my lungs and skin vanishes.

What the fuck?

I thought I couldn't make living things with Madness. Or were those flies not alive? Are bacteria not living, either? So what? Is it that just mine aren't?

I'm so confused. Is this what happens when I let Madness fly and do whatever comes to mind? When I take inspiration from the Bloody Palm? Can things like that happen with any skill? Maybe.

But I could use Steam Strand, even if only for a few moments, the pressure of the imagined condensing my Ether. That isn't all that happened, though. The imagined things had a natural, authentic effect.

The insects were burrowing into the stone beside me, for I can still see the bits and pieces that looked like acid ate through it. The bacteria began making me sick, as I could feel the fever blossoming within my skull.

What the fuck is this skill?!

What I wanted to happen did, but far different than I expected. So differently that I can't even remember what the enhanced form of Adrenaline Surge did. It was physical; that is all I know, even if it's obvious.

I trail the silvery tattoo of a burning fire on my arm made of Madness' imagination as I flare with a desire to test it more. Find its limit. If it even has one. Before, I kept it to objects and never went further than that. But the applications are so... limitless.

If this imagined effect can aid in condensing Ether, allowing me to do it far before I should, what else can it do? I don't know, but there is only one way to find out.

That is to use it more. The only downside is the Ether required, each thing imagined from Madness burning a trail through my body of Ether that takes a while to recover from. Actually, that's not entirely true. There is a second downside.

The imagined things have to come from other minds, not my own. But I do always have another mind with me, don't I?

A smile creeps onto my face as I peer deeply into the Bloody Palm, Insight telling me the thoughts of the artifact, the demented and fragmented mind within.

Perhaps... it has a use after all. Even if it won't ally with me, it doesn't have to for me to use its thoughts, emotions, and being.

Ether swirls in my pupil as Insight forces its way into the being of the Bloody Palm, another demented thought reaching my mind. At the same time, I make my Ether move in my body, twisting, condensing, and focusing on using the new form of Adrenaline Surge once more.

But just as one can never understand the Bloody Palm, one can never predict it, either. The thought that blooms into a bloody, flesh-starved thing within reality from my imagination is one of an opening palm, the flesh contorting into a disgusting flower with all the sick twirls and lines of a rose.

I watch with wide eyes and a thunderous heart as my hand, or I guess the Bloody Palm, opens up, the skeleton revealing from within as a shard of bone comes out, similar to the spike of a pickaxe.

And just as the first time I used Madness long ago, a phrase comes to my mind as if from the void. I know it is from a being that is neither the Bloody Palm nor I. Every syllable shakes me to the core.

"From the flesh, eminence buds as the luminaries above begin to tilt."

What.

The.

Fuck.

A slight headache emerges from Ether that rapidly burgeons to a major one from just Madness' pure absurdity and depravity. Where do these phrases come from? Are they from the Bloody Palm? I have no clue, but it fills me with a sense of unease.

But despite how much this development bothers me, an odd fascination lingers. I'm unsure if this is because of what Aniwye said about fragments being left in my mind to grow, but I want to try this out. I want to use it more. She might have warned me about the threat in my mind, but she also said something else.

That greatness requires madness.

Or something along those lines.

So, I take my hand and the spike of bone from the center of my palm and slowly bring it to the stone rock beside me. The two touch with a muted tap, two hard surfaces meeting, but contrary to what I expected, I feel no pain. The flesh that blossomed outward to allow the bone to come out lacks any sense of discomfort.

Instead, my curiosity only rises.

The bone spike appears sharp and durable. Can I...?

I press the palm down onto the rock beside me with some pressure that I gradually increase over a few seconds, culminating in the tip of the bone spike piercing the rock.

A small chuckle leaves my mouth as I realize something. It'll be different every time I use Madness on the Bloody Palm. But that doesn't mean it'll be weak. No, it's the opposite. The artifact pangs of hunger for blood, for life, and for survival. We have an accord on one thing and one thing only. We are free. None can control our minds. And it is that reason that its thoughts are all so dangerous, so demented, so... bizarre. Of course, other uses of Madness from other people will vary. Still, I have a hard time imagining that anyone can rival the Bloody Palm's hunger for survival. And that hunger will directly translate to combat utility.

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I look inward to see that my is Ether condensed a bit further, but it hasn't taken that transmogrification, as the First put it, to the gaseous form. So, I use Madness again, pushing enough Ether into my eyes for the skill I know I'll have to be done after this. I can't propel myself to the brink when I don't know when or who we will fight.

This time, the thought from the Bloody Palm is a bit more interesting. It is of blood leaking from the mouth of a dead body, the liquid slow and serpentine as it drips to the ground, splashing loudly upon a stone floor.

The imagined is brought into reality as blood drips from my mouth, the liquid coming into existence right upon my lips. And from my lips, it leaks and falls onto the rock below, splashing noisily.

Confused, I can only peer toward it as the sanguine liquid twists and turns in a tiny blot before seemingly gaining sentience. Then, finally, it beelines straight for my hand, still stabbed into the rock, as the lines of blood trail up my arm and dye my fingers red.

I bring my hand back just as I feel the Ether inside my body reach a boiling point, the bloody fingers beginning to tingle as the redness spreads around my palm. What surprises me the most, however, is that wherever the red dye goes, all the scratches and cuts from recently fade, the feeble marks that the Bloody Palm felt unneeded to heal disappearing.

No phrase comes this time. However, a stillness runs through my body.

As I feel a muted strength, one that makes my whole body feel light and as quick as a bird, fill my body, I'm still more focused on Madness. It's difficult to bother with anything else when something occurs every time I use this skill. My testing upon the road was far less attractive, the simple objects nowhere near as useful as these enhancements to myself.

So, it can go from healing me to giving me a weapon made of bone... hmm. Is it just luck? Or... can I try to filter the thoughts?

"You've got some freaky ideas in there. So useful, though, I can't lie."

A voice comes from behind after I speak to the Bloody Palm that startles me. Trying to hide the bone spike from my palm, I twist around.

"What are you doing, Wyatt? It's been hours!"

I twist only to meet Blake waving at me with urgency. Relief floods as she also has some odd skills; certainly, she won't judge me for something as insane as Madness. But just to be safe, I stop the flow of Ether through my whole body as I reply to her, confused by her use of the word 'hours'.

"What do you mean hours? I've only been practicing my Ether for a little bit?"

She shakes her head just as I feel the spike's weight in my palm vanish, the flesh wrenching back into place. Good to know that any effects of Madness will return to normal after it ends. It does suck that I can only have three of these thoughts active at a time. Maybe if I reach the 7th Sigil with a second Metamorphosed Sigil, I will have another three slots.

I don't have time to ponder this, however, as Blakes coming words force me to attention.

"No, you've been here for hours, and we can't wait any longer. Virgil left ahead of us, Flickering through a stone wall to head to the surface to wait for us. We need to go now. Right now. Sacate senses something coming. Something powerful enough to see through Abraham's illusions."

My eyes flicker to the rock and then to my hand.

It's been hours? How? I could swear it's only been a few minutes. Wait a second. Did I get so immersed in Ether that I lost all sense of time? Is that even possible?

I shake off the curious happening and focus on Blake, asking her a question as I stand up and walk to her.

"Okay, I'm ready. Always am, you know that. Are you coming with?"

She nods just as I expect. But, the woman is still unlike any I've ever met. She is timid, exceptionally so, and almost incapable of talking to those she doesn't know. Yet, at the same time. She's willing to stare down anything, and the ghosts that follow her do the same.

"Yes. It will be I, you, Bonfire, Johnny, Sacate, Skychaser, and Abraham who go above ground to meet Virgil. Johnny said only the strongest can come as the threat of death is so great, and I barely make the cut. Silas wanted to go too, but he was too low on gold. So, instead, he will help everyone else escape toward the edge of Starkbluffs while we distract the Nahullo with the rescue."

Blake's voice hitches a bit when she says she barely makes the cut; the idea of her being too weak to help is obviously too much for her to bear. So as I walk past her to go to the camp and find Johnny, I pat her on the back.

I know what it's like to be too weak. So that's why I push myself so much all the time. So what happened to Edmund, what happened to Lonnie, what happened to Leonard, what happened to far too many, never happens again.

"It's okay if you're not strong enough, Blake. But don't push yourself too far. Everyone else is far, far more experienced than the two of us. I only make the cut to help because of who I am. Everyone thinks I'm too hard to kill to leave out."

As I walk, she bursts out in a retort, her voice defensive for me. She even goes so far as to tug on my arm.

"That's not true! You're plenty strong! It's not just because of your family. Even if... it's pretty wild you're a Graves."

I go quiet at her mentioning my last name, my mind thinking back to Skychaser. Blake slows a bit down, however, at my silence.

"I--I'm sorry. I know you don't like to talk about it."

Realizing that I came off as angry at her, I attempt to rectify the situation.

"No, no. That's not it. I'm just not used to it. I've been told again and again to keep it a secret, and I've done so. Having it come out so abruptly is... well, unexpected."

Blake bobs her head at me.

"Oh, okay. Well, I think it's pretty cool that you're Killian's son. The man is one of those people so infamous that no one expects to ever even meet them. Kind of like Richard Lang, the Blinded Man. No one ever expects to meet the strongest Outlaw or anyone he had with him during the Great Heist."

I laugh as she compares meeting me to meeting some of the most wanted people alive. Unfortunately, though, I'm pretty sure that everyone in the heist of the Prime's Archives died to the old man except for Richard. Even the other two Hindrances, Olivia Kuln and Ray Tolve, Outlaws equal in power to Pillars, do all they can to stay away from Richard. So that comparison just doesn't bode well for me. I don't bring that up to her, though.

Instead, I just agree and nod along with her. I rarely get to talk to her openly like this. Typically she's stuck in a book. So I just take the compliment. At least, I think that she meant it as a compliment.

"Thanks. We should get moving, though, right? You said we were in a hurry."

Blake's face scrunches up as she realizes we are wasting time, and she shouts as she rushes forward.

"Yeah! Let's go!"

Laughing, I follow her toward the cavern's entrance, where, from here, I can see Abraham's bright pale hair amongst a group of people. As we walk up to the group, I realize it is all the people who are coming. Each is geared for war.

Tired as he is, Abraham has his hands in his pockets with a blade on his hip. Sacate's body is lined with knives, derringers, and hammers, each capable of being pulled at any point to fight with. Johnny is checking each of the ten bandoliers of bullets he got from someone. There must have been extra ammo, and it was all funneled to the Gunfighter.

Johnny tosses Death's Lantern to me as I gaze at everyone else in their preparations. I barely move my attention from Bonfire playing with flames and Skychaser sharpening his claws to catch the thing.

"Get your heart back. There is a chance this thing gets stolen or taken in the fervor that is about to come. Best if we don't have to worry about it. Pass it to Blake after you're done."

I nod at him and do as he says. Then, pushing Ether into the lantern, I connect with it and pull out my heart that has been stored inside. I feel a tightness in my chest for a few seconds, like when I stepped through the Gate Of Death, but it quickly fades.

Then, I pull up my shirt to see that my heart has returned, the white light similar to the eyes of those blessed by the Gift Of Undeath gone. In its place is a small, almost imperceptible scar of a cross. No. Of a four-sided river, for the sides are curvy and riverlike.

The Cardinal.

Odd. I wonder why that appears after you remove Death's Lantern's effect. Aren't Heirlooms like this from demons? Demons that come from before the Underworld was even invaded? So how come the Cardinal, a river that originates in the Underworld, has ties to an Heirloom?

While pondering this, the lantern is taken from me by Blake, who is trying to hurry. I look up from my daze to see everyone watching me, the whole group staring at me.

Bonfire lights a spark on his finger as he opens his mouth.

"You ready, Wyatt?

I ain't see you do nothing but walk away during our meeting and stare into space."

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I nod. Then, I sheepishly ask for some help.

"Yeah, I'm good to go. Could use some extra shotgun shells, though, if anyone can spare any."

Abraham chuckles as the man with darker circles under his eyes than the night sky tosses me a small satchel. I catch it and open it by unbuttoning the top. Inside is at least twenty shells.

"Thank you so much."

The illusionist just shrugs.

"Don't mention it. Just remember it the next time you see me sleepin'. Wake me up."

Confused but still willing to do as he asks, I nod. Then, I start to fill Intervention with the shells, feeling significantly more confident with my Colt's ammo replenished. But out of nowhere, I get slapped on the top of my head, Johnny cursing out Abraham.

"Shut up, Abraham. Don't listen to him, Wyatt."

Then, Johnny steps toward the only entrance and exit to the cavern before turning to me again, everyone else ready for the mayhem to come. The other group, the ones that aren't going to help save Blightraven, are behind us a little bit, the few dozen also prepared to fight. They might be weaker than us, but that doesn't mean they are useless. Just that in the coming chaos, we don't want to lose them.

"Virgil stepped through a rock wall on the other side of this cavern, the tunnel beyond leading right to the surface. I need you to blow it open. When we get to the surface, our groups will split."

Smiling, I nod and step up. He asks me to punch a wall, and I only have one thing to ask.

"Which wall?"