1

The gentle patter of rain collided against Vincenzo’s bloody cheek, waking him. The dull thumping in his head was barely noticeable as he slammed his palms on the moist wood, using what little strength his newly awakened body provided to sit up. With an exhale he threw his back against the bark again, beating out the knot in his muscles. He slept well, slept deep, and he didn’t dream. Suck on that you stupid bitch, he thought. We found ourselves a loophole. Immortality was paying off.

“Ah, you're finally awake,” Cammo said.

“Good morning! Uhm, you have some blood on your face…” Plum said, pointing at the left side of her own cheek for reference.

Vincenzo wiped it away and sat up again. The two of emps sat underneath a modern-looking umbrella that managed to cover them both and then some, and they were having the breakfast—orages again. His mouth grew sour at the thought, so he looked up. An ominous and suffocating cloud of grey loomed overhead, forcing everything below to adopt its lame coloring, raining down on them in a way that wasn’t heavy or light. There was no umbrella over him, and he felt soaked.

“Yeah, yeah…” Vincenzo said. “Hey, Cammo, shouldn't we talk about that thing in private?”

Cammo looked up at him and then at his daughter, before finishing off the fruit in his hands and nodding. Plum looked puzzled. “Why do you need to talk in private?” Plum asked, shoving another sour bite into her chubby cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, let's talk and then we move,” Cammo said, pulling out a more appropriately sized umbrella for an emp. “Come, come.”

She scowled at the two as they walked away. Nearing the trunk of a humongous tree they turned their faces away from her. Vincenzo shared the details from the night before…

“Hmm… How many people could you hear when they were talking?” Cammo asked, giving sideways glances at Plum. She was not happy with the secrecy.

“I think it was just two, with the other being responsible for the spell that’s fucking me up… I think so, at least.” It better have been. He promised not to kill Frey and only Frey.

Cammo looked down at the ground in deep thought, casting the occasional upwards glance at moon-man in front of him. “And you still feel its effect?”

“Yep, it's a lot less severe…” Vincenzo answered, right before furrowing his eyebrows. “I got a lot of rest after you punched my jaw off…”

Cammo sighed, a small action that made Vincenzo’s frown even more pronounced. “That's good. For a moment I thought it was more effective relative to their position. They’re not close yet. So that’s good. And don’t complain if you get sleep. If you get sleep and that headache of yours is lessened, we’re going to be okay. We have a major advantage here.”

“Uh huh…” When Cammo didn’t elaborate, Vincenzo asked, “Wanna explain?”

“You said the girl on the phone was young, right?” Cammo asked.

Vincenzo gave a quick nod.

“How young?”

“Don’t you remember? Gult said she was seventeen,” Vincenzo said, wiping away the rain. It was really coming down.

“Damn…! If she’s that old, then she should be able to use her Glow… But on the bright side, we know that whoever her friend is most likely already used their spell on you. So their Glow would be the only way to defend themselves…” Cammo said, pausing a moment. “Hopefully…”

“What?”

“I'm just trying to figure out the match up…” Cammo said, closing his eyes in thought.

“That's where we run into a problem,” Vincenzo said. The emp opened his red eyes. “I can’t hit a girl, and I also can’t let you fight her…”

“Why's that?”

“Because you're the kind of person to kill her,” Vincenzo said.

Cammo nodded, not even attempting a lie. “But what's the issue? If I killed her, your promise to Gult would still be upheld.”

Vincenzo glared at him. “I didn't tell him yes because I wanted him to have peace of mind; I said it because I’d do it. I don't kill kids, and when I’m traveling with you: you won't, either.” He stopped glaring and grew calm. “If you don't comply… You could win the battle, but I won't fight with you anymore. And let's see how well you do against the two freaks following behind without any help. Don’t think I don’t know why you want us moving so quickly.

“We’re being followed, aren’t we? Those slugs have wings, Cammo, and you know as well as I that your wife and Plum’s mother was buried—she wasn’t burned. And Boon? You probably just left him there to rot… How am I sounding? Does that sound right to you?” Vincenzo smiled. “You need me. Plum needs me. Now make your choice.”

Cammo looked frustrated for a moment, but only a moment. The emp reverted back to his monotone expression with a weary sigh. Vincenzo had him. The rain did well enough to hide Vincenzo’s small outburst, but it was cold. Water seeped into the black cloth and fur nullifying its wind retardant effects, and he started to shiver.

“Are you cold over there?!” Plum yelled, forgetting her irritation.

“I’m fine, I’ll just put something new on before we leave!” Vincenzo yelled back.

Plum nodded, satisfied, before remembering that she was angry, switching back to an indignant scowl.

“I’ll decide the matchup. I fight Frey and you can kill the other. Now…” Vincenzo said, turning to Cammo, “how do I beat a wizard with Heavy Metal without hurting her?” The gun was a lot of things: deadly, heavy, versatile, threatening—non-lethal wasn’t one of them.

“Is that so necessary? Can’t you just blow her head off and be done with it?”

He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t care who got in his way. Everyone’s fair game to him. “Yes.” Vincenzo said. “Women are off-limits for me. And I keep my promises. You can do whatever you want to the other one.”

“Fine…” Cammo relented. He wasn’t happy, but who cared? He just needed to get used to it. “You want to beat her without hurting her?”

Vincenzo nodded, wiping away the rain on his face again. “How can I do that?”

Cammo didn't speak, he only stared at the blacks of Vincenzo’s eyes, as if the answer could be found there. Vincenzo started to get creeped out, but after another half a minute, Cammo had a plan: “Outlast her. Just like we did with Gult. You’re immortal, don’t forget…” The emp stoked his hair back behind his ears and sighed. “But you also have to remember, Gult was defeated by you and me. And he was easily exhausted. But this girl, 'Frey’, you don't have a clue on what she can do.”

“I’ll figure something out…”

“Don't forget Mind’s Tumor either! If it fucks with you in the middle of a fight, you might as well jump into the abyss and get it over with quickly,” Cammo pointed out. “When you have her worn out, I’ll break her legs. Then she won't be able to pursue us. We can leave her food, aid, heart-fruit extract, and firewood to survive. Agreed?”

Vincenzo paused for a second. He didn’t want her legs broken… but what else could they do? “Fine. If she’ll live, then I’m okay with it.”

Lightning cast a blue glow over all, cracking across the grey sky! The rain grew heavier and the sky grew darker…

“The creatures from the abyss are going to travel up in this darkness… We need to move,” Cammo said, looking up at the eerie clouds. “Just make sure you win. If you don't… I will.”

He walked back over to Plum who was still moderately pissed at the secrecy of the two. Cammo, like always, didn’t seem to care much. Vincenzo took his bag and walked round the other side of the large tree and changed into dry clothes, using the large umbrella they planted in the wood he was able to keep it that way. Gult had packed a leather raincoat with a hood as well, which Vincenzo promptly equipped, keeping him dry even when not under an umbrella.

They began to move again. Their pace was slowed to a hurried crawl to prevent a fatal slip into the unknown depths, depths that Cammo refused to elaborate on and said: “If I tell you what’s down there, you’ll get nightmares. And seeing as how you don’t like slimy things or spiders, I wouldn’t pry.” Vincenzo’s migraine grew only a negligible amount, but he realized how quickly that dull thump may snowball into something much greater. Plum’s attitude had not changed. She wasn’t happy with secrets.

2

Plum didn’t like secrets at all.

Why weren’t they telling her everything? Why did Vincenzo want her to shut her eyes when they neared the edge of Summer? And what was that smell? The really foul one…

It’s hair, something in her mind claimed. Remember? You accidentally set your head on fire one time; it smelled like that. Just like that.

She shook her head and the thought along with it. And so what if it was? What did you think he meant when he said, “we will kill them all”? Obviously, they did it… And they were right to do it. If they didn’t, you’d get eaten.

But what aren’t they telling you, then? the voice asked back.

No matter how much she pleaded, they wouldn’t budge. They’d dodge the question, tell her it was fine, and eventually ignore her… But what did it mean? She mulled this question over in her mind as they walked, unable to find a good answer herself. Eventually, her absent-minded strolling almost resulted in her small body plummeting into the darkness below, and she snapped back to reality. She’d ponder later. For now, it was time to focus on putting her boots where they needed to go.

More and more time passed until a faint buzzing grew closer and closer, like the sound of an insect magnified to deafening levels. A destructive thump shook the tree they stood on, and Plum let out a welp! The other two looked worried. The three steadied themselves, the ground steady after another second.

“What was that?!” Vincenzo asked, loading two wood shells into his fetish.

“An insect… Just keep that at the ready,” Cammo answered, dropping his pack and unsheathing his sword.

“What should I do?” Plum asked, dropping her backpack as well.

The two men shared a confused glance, and decided to ignore her, before Cammo came up with a plan: “Go check it out. I’ll stay here with her…”

“If it's a giant spider I’m going to cry…” Vincenzo said, grabbing a small pouch filled with shells.

Vincenzo neared the thick wall of bark and started to wrap around; the rain was too powerful to allow any quiet conversation room to escape far. Plum sat down pulling her knees close and looked up at her cautious father. The wide sword he clung to in his right arm barely wavered as he surveyed the area.

“What are you hiding from me?” Plum asked suddenly.

Cammo didn't bother looking down to meet her gaze; it wasn't even clear he had heard her until he broke the fragile quiet. “What are you talking about?”

“Why do you two have to talk in private? You told me that kings and nobles and everything like that ate wizards because they believed they’d be magic if they did… So I just assumed that’s why people were after us… And that Guerrieros eat us too. Is there any other reason? Because if there was, that would explain why you were so secretive about it…” Plum explained, burying her mouth into her knees. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Cammo sheathed his blade, crouched down to his daughter's level, and placed a large (for an emp) hand on her shoulder. He held her tight out of necessity and his grip felt cold and distant, just like his endless lectures and apathetic gaze—she didn’t like it, and she found that she didn’t want him to touch her anymore. Even if it was just on the shoulder. “Vincenzo got hit by a spell during the last battle. He just didn't want you to know about it.”

She forgot her discomfort. “I-is he sick?” she asked, sitting up much straighter.

“No, no, no… well, yes…” Cammo said. “But it's not like you think. His mutation lets us work around it, and all we have to do is take out the people responsible.”

“Well… when’s that happening?”

“No idea, but now that he has his fetish: there should be no problem,” Cammo explained, standing up again. His hand went with him and she was relieved.

“I have one last question. If there was something to hide, would you tell me?” she questioned.

“Yes. I’d tell you…”

A BANG! exploded through the forest, repeating itself as it echoed through the pillars of wood. Vincenzo had fired.

“Stay here,” Cammo commanded.

Plum complied, only staring as a dark green Glow covered him.

3

Another shot rang out, changing Cammo’s hurried jog into a sprint. He ran up on the small bark walkway, reaching the other side in a third of the time it took Vincenzo, and saw what had happened. A giant insect that clung to the wide trunk greeted him. At eight feet in length and three in width, it didn't fail to conjure up some fear, even in him… Two patches of broken black armor fell into the abyss as its huge numerous legs broke into the bark, green liquid seeped out of the wounds and into the void, and its head was downcast and concealed in shadow. Not another movement came from it. It was dead.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Cammo stuck his wide metal back in the sheath just as his Glow dissipated. Vincenzo snapped the twin barrels open and removed the casings—whose ends seem more burnt than blasted—and tossed them over the edge. Cammo looked at him with trace amounts of anger.

“Why’d you shoot? That's a beetle, they're not aggressive,” Cammo said. “Creepy, but not violent.”

“A spider crawled on it… at least I thought one did…” the pale one answered, putting two more shells into the cylinders. He seemed dead too, dead behind the eyes.

“Are you lucid?” Cammo asked bluntly, wondering if the moon-man needed to “slip” off the edge and into the darkness. It was a bad thought, he knew, but a necessary one if the moon-man couldn’t get himself together. Cammo didn’t need him firing at Plum in his insanity.

The tall one didn't respond, he only stared at the dead insect in fascination. “Yeah. In fact, I feel better…” Vincenzo said, turning to him. “We have a bit of relative peace, so I’m going to go ahead and clear the path for you guys. Help clear my head…”

Cammo nodded and turned to leave, only facing back at him to say one thing, “Even if it's an insect, wait until it attacks you. Don’t go crazy on us.”

Vincenzo gave him a small nod, turning away himself. The moon-man checked the pouches attached to his clothing, making sure he had what he needed. Cammo watched him go through his preparations, waiting for him to leave with a hand on the hilt of his sword. With that done Vincenzo pulled his leather hood over the growing stubble on his head and started to travel into the storm.

Cammo walked back to his daughter and sat under the umbrella. “He’s fine. He’s just going a little ahead of us to clear the way.” At least, I THINK he is… If not…

“The shots?”

“Just an insect… That fetish of his is destructive. It must cost quite a lot of mana to use,” Cammo said.

“But he’ll be fine, right?”

“Yes, he’ll be fine. This will probably be a good chance to find his limits,” Cammo said, popping open a small bottle filled with fiery booze.

“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Plum asked, one eyebrow raised.

Cammo’s lips froze inches away from the glass, looking sideways at his daughter he put it down for a moment. “Do you know what I did before I was six and found out I was a wizard?”

She shook her head. “I don't know if you know this… but you're not the most open person. And that's coming from me. I’ve only met three people in my whole life, and I can still say that…'' Plum said, taking an orage out and handing it to him.

He declined. “I was the son of a brewer. He was a quiet and awkward man, so it was a surprise to everyone when he got a passing woman pregnant. She, your grandmother, was most likely impressed by my father's large stature—which I inherited—and took a fancy. She stayed by his side for nine months, but the two never married, and just a week after my birth, she left. Disappeared, vanished, and whatever have you…” Cammo said. He delivered the last remark as if he was talking about garbage stinking up the home. “My father didn't even know she was a wizard until years later, when I coughed up a fetish of my own. He was already quiet, so he easily kept it a secret for years…”

“Because if he didn't, people would come to eat you?” Plum questioned, scooting closer in interest.

“Yes. It wasn't until I was twenty-five that I went out into the world.” That was a lie. “I was a monster-hunter originally, but after meeting a friend I changed careers.” Another lie. “Then I met your mother, I left him for dead, and me and her escaped into this forest to raise you,” Cammo said, getting ready to take a swig.

“Wait!” Plum yelled, stopping the bottle from reaching parched lips. “You didn't explain why you could drink.”

“Because for the twelve years I raised you, I haven't had a drop of alcohol and deserve a little… That's why,” Cammo explained, draining its contents before she could argue otherwise. “Don’t worry. I’m not so stupid that I’d get drunk in a place like this. We emps are small, Plum, but we can outdrink most of the other walking species of Overworld. Some can outdrink tousks, and those ‘some’ include me. Locine could hold a drink herself as well.”

“I miss her…” Plum mumbled, resting her chin atop her knees.

Cammo’s mood dropped, and the sky, which he looked to in times of sadness, was uncaring and grey. “Me too.”

Silence passed between the two as they reminisced about simpler times, but Cammo knew that those times were long gone. The Blood Moon had seen to that. Boon had seen to that…

“Are you sure he’ll be safe? There are giant spiders around apparently… If you aren't trying to scare him, that is,” Plum asked.

“I’m not,” he said, agitated by the insinuation. Did she distrust him that much? “He’ll be fine. As long as he doesn’t run into a murder-fly, that is. But he’d have to have some of the worst luck in the world for that…”

4

Vincenzo walked along wet bark with precision, keeping his eyes open, and his breath quiet. He could hear a faint buzzing below him… He thought it was most likely some kind of fly or maybe even another beetle; in any case, that's not why he really came out there. He pulled out the small rectangle that received last night's threat and touched its crystal screen. Vibrant jagged colors popped into existence: green, red, yellow, purple, and others fit together like a jigsaw puzzle or the stained glass on a church window. He could call someone with this, namely, the enemy. But there wasn’t a word on any part of it, just colors. The question was: who to call?

Remembering that purple was the color that covered the screen when he got called, he decided to press it. Vincenzo held it against his ear as it began to drone… The buzzing below grew a small bit louder as he did. Don’t like that, he decided, but also decided that this was more important. Finally, after the droning was beginning to irritate his headache, someone answered.

“What?” Frey answered, angry and to the point. She seemed to know exactly who was calling. Or maybe she just answers every call that way, he thought with a grin.

“Hey, it's that guy who killed your brother… Anyway, I need Slogine’s num—color, or whatever the hell you call it,” Vincenzo said, taking a seat.

There was silence on the other end.

“What the fuck do you think I’m going to do? Blow his head off over the phone? Just tell me, I wanna talk to him.”

“Why?” Frey asked.

God, she’s like Cammo with that to-the-point attitude. He scratched the back of his head. “Context. This whole ordeal with Plum, I want to understand it better.”

“You want to speak with him about it?” she said. There was a bit of confusion in her pretty voice and the anger from before was subdued.

That was belief, he thought. “Yeah. Your brother's explanation was a little vague, especially after he lost most of his teeth… It was just mumbling at that point. Mumbling and crying,” Vincenzo said nonchalantly, knowing that it would cut deep. He hoped it would cut deep. It needed to cut deep. “And even after that… he could barely string words together by the time I was done with him.”

A sharp inhale could be heard from the other side, barely carrying itself over the rain. He couldn’t tell whether it was one of pain or one of anger, ultimately coming to the conclusion that it was both.

Right on the money, he thought calmly. “I was hoping your friend would be better at explaining…”

“How can you even function?! The spell should have eaten away at your sanity!” Frey screamed, notes of a newfound worry coating her voice.

Definitely right on the money. He was already in her head. “Found a loophole. So don't count on it too much when we meet… Now what’s his color?”

“Red.”

Then the call dropped, leaving him with only the sound of the pattering rain and the buzzing beneath—that sound really was fucking with his nerves. Vincenzo took a deep breath and hovered his finger over the red puzzle piece… But removed his finger when he realized how close the buzzing was; it was just below him now. It was similar to the sound of a lawnmower, a loud repetitive scream that never failed to disturb. “What the fuck?” he whispered, watching something rise over the edge. “Oh merde.”

A giant fly-thing hovered above the abyss, facing him with an instantly recognizable animosity. One horn grew from between its dull-red segmented eyes, narrowing to a blade, its wings flapping too fast to properly see. It was the buzz. Its solid black carapace was interrupted only by the skull pattern on its thorax, and it drooled an unhealthy amount of green sludge between sharp mandibles. The fly might have only been the size of Vincenzo’s torso, but it had the presence of something twice that size. It felt dangerous, deep in his core.

Vincenzo wordlessly moved the phone back into his pocket, before moving that same hand back to the trigger of his gun. He took aim at the hovering foe, making sure his sights were on target, and fired!

It darted to the left just as he pulled the trigger, forcing pellets into the distance it made its move. Vincenzo fired again, growing worried as it darted again, dodging another blast. “Son of a—!” he screamed, just as the insect flew through him with a lowered horn. It went through him like a knife.

It took a moment for him to realize how much damage had been done in that fly-by; the beast had cleaved his shoulder so deeply that his entire left arm began to droop. It stuck back together immediately, but just as he readied two more shots the beast came again. Vincenzo threw his body near the edge narrowly avoiding its now bloody blade, but almost fell into the black as a consequence of his dodge. He loaded two more wooden shells as it flew behind trees too fast for anyone to anticipate. Not your average forest, he remembered bitterly. Not one bit.

It charged again as another shotgun blast ripped through the air. Its maneuverability helped it to dodge, before charging straight for him again. Vincenzo suddenly became very glad that it was a bug he was dealing with.

He aimed the barrel as if to fire, and just as he thought, the bug kept its speed, only ten feet away. Vincenzo still waited… and fired! A thunderous blast collided with the soft gelatin of its eyes, just as it sliced through the top of Vincenzo’s skull, exposing his brain—he went cross-eyed.

With that and a high-pitched screech it fell back into the abyss, its scream growing quieter and quieter as it plummeted.

His wound closed quickly, first with the missing chunk of the brain, then the skull to protect it, and the skin to cover it—all in a matter of seconds. He let out a small sigh in relief as the thumping headache—not due to the insect's attacks—dulled. Even if he wanted to finish it off, the bug was gone.

But this small encounter had already left him particularly drained, beads of sweat traveled—along with the rain—off his body and into moist wood. He sat down and caught his breath, wondering if all the insects beneath were like that… At the very least, he was finally able to tell the difference between physical and magical exhaustion. It wasn't like Cammo was going to give him any pointers, after all. He guessed that his mana reserves were running about twenty percent empty, and also remembered that he only fired around four shots… He guessed that Heavy Metal was a pretty expensive thing. But there was still work to be done, experiments to be conducted.

5

Pulling out a small dagger, he pressed it against his throat, and with one quick slice an unhealthy—it being unhealthy to bleed at all—amount of blood poured out onto the wood. The wound closed almost immediately as he willed it. His reserve of mana dropped only a small amount even though the slash was severe. Vincenzo had learned to tell how much he had in the tank. There we go, he thought. Little by little. Healing itself wasn't very expensive. All in all, he guessed that he (at most) had twenty-five shots in him. And his immortality? I can grow maybe three bodies back, if I lose my head. The brain seemed to take a bit more mana to fix as well, so that was something to take in consideration. Still, three bodies and twenty-five shots, he felt, was nothing to scoff at. Vincenzo felt a little bit better knowing what he could do.

The hood did nothing for him anymore after the fly, so he pulled it off, leaving him exposed to the elements. At least the rain helps wash off the blood… He washed his face with the falling rainwater and took a drink of his canteen, snacking on an orage for mana after. Back to it, he thought. Pulling out the crystal rectangle again, he pushed on the red icon. The call was picked up not long after.

“Hello,” Vincenzo said. “I’m just gonna beat you to the punch and admit to killing Gult.”

There was no response, only shallow breathing and a couple wet coughs.

“I just wanted to know a little about why we’re fighting, and I thought you might be able to help me with that. I won’t change my mind, but it can’t hurt to at least talk about it…” If it really was Slogine on the other end, whoever he was, he sounded sick as fuck, Vincenzo thought. Gult wasn’t kidding.

“I don’t care to explain anything to you. If Cammo wants you in the dark, then I won't object to it. The only thing I care about is Gult,” Slogine said, calm.

“So, you want to know how he died is what you're saying.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll tell you if you give me some information. A little deal,” Vincenzo said coolly. “I actually want to know about this disease you have. Cammo gave Plum a little vial of some kind of extract and it managed to heal her up, yet her mother was weakened by some kind of disease… One that affected the lungs. What's the deal there?”

“I didn’t even agree to conversing with you, and you already demanded something of me… How do I know you’d even keep your promise?” Slogine asked. His voice was strange. It was inhuman but not animalistic, polite yet unnerving, and not at all uncanny. If anything, even with the cough and a wet sound coming from the back of his throat, Vincenzo thought he sounded smooth.

The rain started to slow into a faint drizzle. Storms passing, he noticed. “Because I thought he was pretty cool,” Vincenzo answered. The rain finally stopped. “Just because I killed him, doesn't mean I have to hate him. It was a straight fight between them and us, and we just happened to win. That’s all it was. Hard feeling don’t need to be involved.”

There was a strange moment of silence between the two. It was uncomfortable and comfortable in a way that Vincenzo couldn’t place, and he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. Slogine ended it by asking, “You want to know what exactly this disease is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it affects the lungs and physically drains the victim of their stamina until they eventually die from exhaustion, or blood fills the lungs and drowns them. It's incurable and can only be slowed down by certain herbs and medicines. That's why Locine was weak. Wait…” It seemed like the stranger remembered something. “Didn’t she die from the disease?”

“Nope, a moon-man got her,” Vincenzo said. “Not me, obviously… Cammo would’ve killed me if I did it, and I’m not the kind of guy to do that kind of thing.”

“I see… So back to my question: you want to know what kind of disease it is?”

“That's what I’m curious about. Gult had a journal explaining how long the journey was, meaning you must've been pretty far out to begin with. How does an illness travel from one side of the world to the other? To an isolated segment of the world, at that. Something like that just isn't possible,” Vincenzo said. Not without magic. That stupid shit can do anything. It was that thought that brought his questioning on.

“Not possible for a regular disease… but this was manufactured,” Slogine said, his cool mannerisms slowly disappearing.

“Manufactured?”

“Yes, manufactured,” repeated Slogine. “I wouldn't have made this journey or dealt with the Guerrieros if it was just a natural disease. It's because it's manufactured that I did.”

“And why’s that? What's the difference?”

“A natural disease is just the way the world functions. There isn't any malice behind its existence. It just is,” Slogine explained. “A manufactured disease is different and without a doubt must be destroyed at any cost.”

“Then why not go after the people who created it?”

“Because it's most likely the Guerrieros who are responsible,” Slogine said, sounding his angriest. The moon-man on the other end let out a deep breath—collecting himself, Vincenzo guessed—and sounded smooth again. “I have people I don’t want to lose. Pursuing the ones responsible would get me and them killed. The only choice left is obvious. I took the deal. A child for a cure. It could have been any child. And this is the one I chose.”

Vincenzo got pissed. “Oh yeah? Only choice?” he asked, sounding just as carefree as he did before. “Then why aren’t you here you fucking bitch?”

“When I first told them that I’d get them a child, they gave me something… Something that I can’t give away and will disappear back into nothing upon my death. I can’t die yet. If I do, then it would take too long to deliver her,” he explained, mimicking Vincenzo’s fake apathy. “Now what do you have to say about Gult.”

The pale teenager clicked his tongue. “Fine, if that's all you're sharing, then I’ll give you my opinion on him,” Vincenzo replied. “I was a ‘soldier.’ That's what I did for money and pleasure. So believe me when I say I’ve met a lot of people seconds away from death. Each one of them would beg for their lives over and over, so when it came to dash their hopes they were piss scared. When I had Gult under the heel of my boot do you know what I’d think he’d do? That's right, beg for his life. But you know what he did? He begged for Frey’s instead. And when I said I would, do you know what he did? Instead of crying because of his soon to be death, he cried tears of fucking joy! I was impressed. If you want to know my opinion, bastard, I was impressed. Gult died tough. And Gult had grit.”

Slogine didn’t respond. The breeze managed to send a chill down Vincenzo’s spine. Light began to reenter the forest, orange and gold. “Do you truly intend to keep that promise?” Slogine asked finally, his voice somber.

“Yes. Frey, and only Frey will live,” Vincenzo promised. “Anyone else is fair game.”

“Then know this. They are going to defeat you and save everyone from dying slow, painful, pointless deaths,” Slogine said. “They’ve beaten worse than the likes of you.”

Slogine dropped the call before Vincenzo could offer a rebuttal. “That's that…” Vincenzo muttered, dropping the device back in his pocket. “What did I learn from that call? Nothing. Nothing I already didn't know. Nothing that will change my mind…”

But he did learn something. He learned that the, maybe only, reason they were killing each other in the middle of nowhere was connected to him. His father was fucking shit up for everyone, and Vincenzo felt responsible. I thought I was done with paying for someone else's crimes, he groaned inside. The more things change—and a lot has—the more they stay the same, huh?

Yes, and he didn’t like it.

He walked back along the branches, tossing occasional glances into the abyss below, wondering what other creatures laid so far down. He never wanted to know.

6

Vincenzo gave a weary wave as he approached the others, basking in the light of sun. He was cold and the wind bit at him, but by God, the rays of light squeezing through the net of leaves above felt like heaven on his face. It was refreshing. His headache was faint.

“There was shooting!” Plum said, jumping up to greet him. She was refreshing too.

“Yeah, some white-skull fly-thing attacked me… I’m fine though, as you can see,” Vincenzo said, giving her a confident smile. “Clothes a little messed up, but it’s fine. I got more.”

“Be glad you lived. People usually die when in contact with those things…” Cammo interjected, rising up himself. “Now, shall we?”

“Yeah, let's get moving,” Vincenzo said. “I’m getting antsy sticking in one place like this.”