After making very sure the shoggoth was out of commission (which required two large swords), we resumed formation with the one change being Greg taking up the rear behind Kristy and me, and descended the stairs.

...And descended.

It became apparent that the staircase we were going down was not a product of any New Mexican construction company. The steps gradually transitioned from concrete to a sort of limestone, then to a dark granite. They stopped being uniformed, some going down two feet while others only a few inches. Because of the irregularity, I was getting more of a workout than going downstairs would normally demand.

The group maintained a cautious pace, which was fantastic as it let me recover. I was also straining at the delay. I could feel my brother down below us, thanks to the Blood Stick, but he wasn’t getting any closer. I assumed that was because of the nature of the domain. Hopefully, when we crossed whatever threshold and entered it proper, I’d be able to narrow it down.

Did you do that to the pirates? Kristy asked, breaking the oppressive silence.

No, I said. Most I killed with my hands. My tone made it clear it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.

I’m not even sure if what I said was true. I shot a bunch as well. I think I only killed one with magic if you don’t count all those copies of Mr. Forgettable I burned—which I don’t. I still don’t know why the fuck they went up like a fireworks factory. Even before my fire power lost most of its potency, it was never that powerful outside of that weird liminal space he dragged me to.

At my reply, most of the group slowed a bit to glance back at me.

Oh, really?! That’s so—

Kristy, Albright interrupted her. Stay focused.

Kristy made a frustrated noise next to me. I caught Beats rolling her eyes. A glance behind me revealed Greg giving me a contemplative look.

As the conversation fell away and our attention returned to our surroundings (such as they were), I risked a bit of introspection to dive into what I’ve started to call my “Other” powers—which is pretty lame, as far as names go. Not nearly as lame as “Dark” powers, which was the runner-up.

I called them my Other powers because they weren’t mine. I hadn’t internalized them like I had with my danger-sense, psychometry, or the body-altering gift. There was something distinctly different about the abilities the Orphan had given me. The more I use them, the more I examine their nature, the more and more I suspect they are less a set of abilities I was given and more just… a loan. A loan from the passenger in my head. Like it was tossing me the keys to a car.

The Orphan doesn’t communicate like humans do. Or even a being like Trix does. It simply gives you concepts that explode in your brain. It isn’t painful, but there is so much information you have to struggle just to get the basic shape of its communication.

I didn’t know any of that when I summoned it. I just knew it was a name listed in the back of the summoning book listed under “Mostly harmless, staggering power.” A few entries behind the Doorman.

The Doorman, for reference, was listed as “Middling danger, Middling power.” There have been many a night I’ve stayed awake, wondering who the anonymous person who had authored that book was to consider the Doorman a “middling” danger.

The keys simile doesn’t quite match what is going on with my Other powers, however. If you’re borrowing the car, you give the keys back. What I am given from my silent passenger is a form of pure knowledge. Knowledge so dense, so massive, and at the same time so basic that it gives me abilities that allow me to alter reality, in terms of how my body operates. I have a feeling that the passenger has to be present to act as a sort of buffer—or perhaps firewall might be a better word, to protect my mind from the strain of such otherworldly and primal knowledge.

With all that in the back of my mind, I threw up my mental defenses as strongly as I could, and with the most gentle of touches, asked my passenger if it would be possible for more.

The wave of gratifying consent that flooded out from it terrified me. To the point that I stumbled.

Kristy caught me. You good?

I nodded quickly. Yeah, I said, trying to keep my mental voice even. Been a long day and these stairs are shit.

They really are, Greg agreed.

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I had almost asked my passenger for more but had changed my mind at the last minute to ask if it was merely possible. I was tremulously glad that I had. I have no doubt that whatever else the passenger gave me would have some visible effect on me, and I’d rather not do it around the magical SWAT folks and be instantly murdered or, at the very least, have to answer a bunch of awkward questions.

Another minute passed before the stairs ended abruptly. It was jarring, as there was no indication the bottom was coming. Suddenly, we were no longer on the stairs. The group as a whole found themselves on a wide landing with an… entryway? It was a hole in the wall, some forty feet away. About five feet high and seven across. Now, the people around me must have some magical means of seeing or had augmented their eyes as I had so they could see in the dark, because no one was squinting and there was no light down here. But we all paused before the opening because we couldn’t see through it. It was just black.

I felt my brother somewhere beyond it.

That’s probably the threshold, Albright said. On your toes, everyone.

And then tentacles shot out of the black and impaled Roy.

Everyone but me reacted with instant violence. I was shocked into a moment of inaction because the tentacles looked almost exactly like the ones I could summon, if longer and more sinuous.

Roy had managed to block most of the tentacles, over a dozen, from hitting his vitals with a quick jerk of his shield. He ducked his head down and to the side while raising his shoulder, protecting his neck while three tentacles bounced off his helmet. His forearm on his sword arm, both his thighs, a calf, his left shoulder, and his hip were impaled by tentacles slightly thinner than my wrist. The tentacles punched through him half a dozen places, then curled to grip him. With a yank, they dragged him toward the black.

Greg shot past us all and grabbed the collar of Roy’s breastplate while the rest of the crew opened fire into the black. As bullets whizzed by, Greg set his feet, drew his sword, and slammed it half a foot into the rock floor. As the tentacles dragged Roy forward, Greg slid with him until his foot met the flat of the sword stuck in the ground.

I could barely hear him over the gunfire, but Roy was roaring. My first instinct would be to say he was roaring in pain, but that’s not accurate. Roy was pissed. His roar was one of anger. The tentacles yanked on Roy again but were much less effective with Greg holding onto him.

Suddenly Walt zipped around Roy like an anime character doing a super speed thing and the tentacles impaling the knight were severed. I felt another urge to dry heave as the severed tentacles began to writhe in Roy’s wounds. Without the tentacles dragging his friend, Greg heaved and pulled Roy back, sliding him to the back of the formation next to Beats who immediately slung her gun and began to administer first aid. As soon as he saw Roy was out of harm's way, Greg raised his machine gun with one hand and unloaded it into the darkness.

More tentacles were emerging from the black. Many were cut down by the fusillade of bullets, but more just kept coming.

When Kristy’s bullpup ran dry, I finally snapped out of my surprise and raised my gun. Again, I hesitated, because while bullets seemed effective at keeping the tentacles back, they didn’t seem to be stopping whatever was creating the tentacles. I consulted my own tentacle knowledge and came up with a theory.

I don’t think it’s a monster, I sent to Albright. I think it's a ward or something similar. Get me closer and I can end it.

How close? Albright asked. He was firing his rifle as fast as he could pull the trigger, but I had yet to see him reload. I kept waiting for the tell-tale clang of a clip being ejected, but it never came. The barrel was starting to burn the wooden parts of the gun, creating puffs of smoke along the gun with every bullet.

I need to be able to see the bottom of the opening and read whatever is there, so, I paused as I did a quick estimation. Fifteen feet?

Beats? Albright asked.

This isn’t a patch job, Beats said as she worked. I suggest falling back to the stairs so I can heal him, so he and Greg can keep the newbie alive while he does his work.

Let’s do it, Albright agreed. Fall back, folks.

Help me with him, Beats said to me, nodding her head down to Roy. He’s heavier than he looks.

I left Kristy’s side (careful to move behind her and not in front of her barking gun) while holstering the Webley. I stuck the Blood Stick to the outside of my arm with a bit of my magic so I could free up my other hand, crouching down to lift Roy. He looks plenty heavy, I said with some trepidation.

Yup, Beats said as we both put a shoulder under an arm. On “two.” One, TWO!

Holy shit Roy was heavy. I thought he was like Alice and was more dense, and so was fifty to a hundred pounds heavier. But he must weigh over five hundred pounds, easy… okay, so yes, he is like Alice in that he is denser, obviously, but I didn't expect it to be two hundred pounds heavier. I have lifted slightly more weight at my best, but as any fireman or emergency worker will tell you, there’s a lot of difference between weights at the gym and a human body.

Somebody’s been eating their Wheaties, I said as I grunted.

Oh, yeah, sorry, Roy said. His mental voice sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth. A moment later he felt a hundred pounds lighter. With a suddenly easier job, Beats and I half carried, half dragged him towards the stairs as he was much taller than me and almost two feet taller than Beats. With the holes in his legs, he couldn’t walk, so I had to crouch while I carried him so Beats could help distribute the weight.

After a few seconds, we were still walking towards the stairs. After a few more seconds, I saw Kristy backing up in the corner of my eye. I felt a pit grow in my stomach as I realized what may be happening.

Albright, I asked as I stopped walking, bringing Beats up short with a grunt. Do domains typically keep enemies from leaving?

I felt more than saw Albright’s head whip around in my direction. There was a chorus of swearing that took me an instant to realize wasn’t mentally projected.

Typically, yes, Albright confirmed.

I think we’re fucking stuck here, I said with a sigh.