Heavy sheets of rain fell from the sky as Abby stood next to Zeke, who was staring at the sewer grate with obvious apprehension. Abby could sympathize with his feelings on the matter, given the mission Zeke was expected to complete.

“Sewers, though?” he muttered under his breath. “Why does it have to be sewers?”

“If it’s any consolation, those tunnels are more for drainage than for waste,” Abby said. “It shouldn’t be too bad.” He cut his eyes at her, and she said, “Okay – it’s going to suck. Hard. But it shouldn’t be that dangerous. It’s probably just a ratkin infestation.”

“What are ratkin?” he asked.

She shook her head, answer, “Humanoid rats. About three-feet tall. Not very smart. Some people think they’re sapient, but…well, they’re kind of gross, so nobody’s ever really investigated too much.”

“Plus, they live in the sewers,” he said.

“Plus, they live in the sewers,” she agreed.

“That asshole just wanted me to spend my day wading through shit,” Zeke reasoned. “Just because I broke his jaw…”

Abby didn’t respond to the comment. They had discussed the circumstances surrounding his guild admittance mission for more than an hour after Einar had given it, and Abby was tired to talking about it. The bottom line was that they couldn’t do much about the man’s obvious bias. For now, he was the elder in charge of induction, so they had to play the game by his rules.

One of the men standing guard at the grate looked at the pair of them, impatience playing across his face. They weren’t employed by the city, so they didn’t have the sunburst tabards or fine chainmail used by Beacon’s peacekeepers. Instead, they wore the mismatched armor of adventurers, which, to Abby, said that they were members of some lesser guild. “You two going to just stand there?” the shabbily armored man asked.

“Maybe,” she said dismissively. Neither of the men were even level ten, so they didn’t pose a threat to her.

“Just a couple more minutes, and I’ll go in,” Zeke said, gesturing apologetically. “Just working up to it.”

The man barked a harsh laugh. “Couldn’t pay me enough to go in there,” the adventurer-turned-guard said. He gave a shiver. “Just gross.”

Zeke chuckled. “Can’t really argue with that,” he muttered.

Abby rolled her eyes at the interchange. Zeke gave these idiots far more respect than they deserved. Where was that when he was picking a fight with the guild elder? Gripping his shoulders, she turned him to face her before saying, “Just get in, figure out what’s going on, and get out. Don’t get distracted like you always do. Just do the mission.”

“I don’t get distracted,” he argued.

“Says the man who fought a drachnid queen when he didn’t need to,” she countered. “I’m serious, Zeke. This is a simple mission. Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.”

On the surface, the mission did indeed seem fairly straightforward. Something in the sewers had been abducting children off the streets and dragging them into their lair in the sewers, and the guild had been hired by The Church of Purity to put a stop to it. Granted, there was a miniscule chance that it was something more dangerous than ratikin, but it was extremely unlikely. Still, the sewers were largely unmapped due to the fact that most of the maintenance was carried out by rune-powered magical constructs in the infrastructure of the city. Or so Abby had always been told. She wasn’t privy to all of Beacon’s secrets, and she wasn’t so curious that she’d ever considered investigating the sewers. So long as it worked, that was all she needed to know.

Zeke was different, though. Even with his fate in the guild up for grabs, he’d already expressed interest in examining the runes that governed the city’s sewer system. When she’d asked why, he’d only shrugged and called it a hobby. To her, it seemed more like an obsession, though. Often, while they’d been in the wilderness, the man had spent whole nights studying the runes that governed his most important skill. However, it had resulted in those exploding rocks of his – which, while useful, weren’t nearly as effective as his normal combat, regardless of what Zeke thought – so, she supposed it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

“I’ll be fine, Abby,” he said. Then, he added, “This is about saving kids.”

That attitude was both admirable and frustrating at the same time. Saving children was certainly something she could get behind, but Zeke sometimes acted like he thought he was a fairy tale hero. He seemed convinced that everything was going to work out for him, regardless of how much danger he faced. Or maybe he just didn’t care, instead subverting his own sense of self-preservation for what he thought was a worthy cause. Either way, Abby was certain that that attitude would one day come back to bite him.

For her part, Abby had saved her own fair share of innocents. But she’d been smart about it, planning and picking her targets so she had the best chance of survival. By contrast, if Zeke saw something he didn’t like, or someone he thought needed saving, he would just charge in and hope everything worked out in the end. So far, it had, but she knew his luck wouldn’t hold for much longer.

So, why had she chosen to hitch herself to his wagon? Because he was powerful? That wasn’t that abnormal. She’d had plenty of chances to follow strong people. Sure, some of them – both men and women alike – had wanted her companionship not because of her skill as an adventurer, but because of the way she looked. It was disgusting, but there was a part of her that had wanted to use every tool she had, so long as she had a chance to get ahead.

Zeke was different, though. Sure, she sometimes caught him looking at her in that way, but, for some reason, his glances didn’t seem lecherous. Instead, they were almost innocent. Or maybe genuine. Either way, it didn’t bother her. In fact, there was a big part of her that liked it when he looked at her like that.

But more than anything, she knew that whatever attraction there was between them, it hadn’t played a part in their partnership. He valued her skills as an adventurer and guide, which made all the difference in the world.

He sighed. “Better get to it, then,” he said, eyeing the grate. Glancing back at her, he added, “Wish me luck?”

“You won’t need it.”

He shrugged, saying, “If you say so.”

Then, without further hesitation, he strode forward, swung the grate open, and stepped into the darkness beyond. Abby wanted to wait for him, but she knew the mission might take a day or so, and she had other items on her docket. So, she turned on her heel and started walking away. As she did, she managed to catch one of the guards saying, “Another one? How many is that this week? Six? Why don’t they send more down here?”

The other answered, “You think any of those high-and-mighty elites would set foot in the sewers? C’mon man. You’re smarter than that. No – they’ll keep throwing lower levels at it until the problem goes away. Or until the Temple decides to send the Radiant Guard down there.”

“That guy was level fourteen, though,” the other guard said. “He might take care of it.”

“You forgetting about the last group? They were all thirteen,” his companion stated. “Four of them, and they never came out. No – that guy’s a goner, and that’s that. Not all bad, though. Means his girlfriend’s up for grabs.”

“Did you see her…”

Thankfully, Abby got out of range of her own hearing. The enhanced senses that had come with her racial evolution were both a blessing and a curse. A good thing for obvious reasons – seeing in the dark was the least of the benefits. But she couldn’t say she wanted to hear the lewd comments that often followed her wherever she went. Ignoring them had become a necessary chore.

The men’s other comments were a little troubling. If it was just a tribe of ratkin, it shouldn’t have been terribly dangerous. But if there was one thing she had faith in, it was Zeke’s survivability. Whatever that sewer could throw at him, he’d come out the other side. Knowing him, he’d probably complete a quest or get another achievement out of it. In any case, Zeke was a big boy who’d made his own choices. According to guild doctrine, she couldn’t help him or he’d lose out on his chance to join The Champions of Light. She had no choice but to trust that he could defeat whatever lay before him; given that he’d been doing that ever since being reborn into the Radiant Isles, she was more than willing to put her faith in her companion.

Abby pushed those concerns to the back of her mind and made her way to the ramp that cut through the center of the city. The sewer’s entrance had been on the ground level, like her destination, but it was still quite a long way to travel. She could only hope that it would be worth it.

The ground level – or as it was colloquially known, the Bottoms – was comprised of mostly temporary buildings and tents. Some were nicer than others, but almost all of them could be either abandoned or dismantled at a moment’s notice. Monster surges weren’t common in Beacon, mostly due to the city’s aura, but they weren’t unheard of. Otherwise, the city’s unique defenses wouldn’t have been necessary. The ground level wasn’t even protected by a wall, though, and so, its denizens had to be mobile.

As Abby strode through one of the poorer sections, she tried to ignore the squalor. Beggars abounded, as well as thieves and pickpockets. Somewhere within that quagmire of poverty was her destination. She didn’t want to get sidetracked, so she was forced to ignore the destitute and downtrodden populace.

Eventually, she found her way to a gaudy, mustard yellow tent. Outside were a pair of burly toughs – a man and a woman who looked so similar that they couldn’t have been anything but siblings. Both had thick, bullish necks, wide shoulders, and squashed faces. The only difference between the two was the swell of the woman’s breasts, though even that wasn’t noticeable from a distance.

“What do you want?” the woman spat, her voice coarse.

“I want to see Gemma,” Abby said. “Now.”

“Is that so? And who should we say is calling, m’lady?” was the woman’s sarcastic reply.

Abby ground her teeth. “Tell her Abby’s here to call in a debt,” she said. When the woman didn’t immediately move, Abby added, “Either you tell her, or I’m going through you. You wouldn’t like that.”

That got the woman’s attention, and she started to move toward Abby. Her brother put his hand on her shoulder, restraining her. When the female brute looked back, he shook his head, saying, “No. You don’t want that fight.”

“Maybe I do,” the woman growled.

“She’s fifteen,” he said. “She’d tear both of us apart and not even blink.”

Abby stood her ground, saying, “Listen to your brother.”

For a moment, Abby thought the woman was going to attack anyway. In fact, there was a part of her that wanted just that. She had barely had a chance to test her newly evolved race out, and putting a would-be bully in her place would’ve been extremely satisfying. However, she was destined to be disappointed, because the woman jerked away from her brother’s grip and ducked into the tent.

The man said, “Sorry. She’s a bit hotheaded. Been like that since we was kids.”

“It’s fine.”

A few awkward seconds later, the burly woman stepped through the tent flap and said, “Go on. She’s waiting for you.”

Abby pushed past the pair of thugs and into the tent. Inside was a mismatched collection of furniture, sculptures, and paintings. All contraband, so far as Abby knew. Stolen from the wealthy denizens of Beacon. She ignored all of it; it wasn’t her job to catch thieves. Instead, she strode past the collected valuables towards a woman who sat amidst a series of colorful cushions. There was a small table before her, and on that table was a ceramic teapot and a collection of delicate cups.

“Ah, Abby dear!” she said, spreading her hands. “So nice of you to visit!”

“Not a social call, Gemma,” Abby said as she approached. The woman herself was middle-aged, with dark black hair and a face that had once been quite beautiful. Half of it still was. The other half, though, was a mass of scar tissue, in the midst of which was a milky white eye. According to rumor, the scar was the result of Gemma tangling with a particularly gifted mage with a powerful fire skill. Out of habit, Abby inspected the woman.

Gemma Altair – Level 23

Same as always, then. Abby had known the woman for a little more than five years, and in that time, Gemma’s status hadn’t changed at all. It made sense, after a fashion. At level twenty-three, she could stand up to almost anyone. There wasn’t much practical call for going any higher, especially when each level from twenty to twenty-five was supposed to take twice as much experience as the previous twenty levels combined. Some of that was mitigated by fighting higher-leveled opponents, but it was still supposed to be quite a slog. That, more than anything else, was the reason there weren’t more people at the maximum level.

But then again, according to Zeke, twenty-five wasn’t the end. Based on what he’d been told by the mysterious Oberon, it was barely even the beginning.

Gemma gestured to one of the cushions across from her and said, “Pity. I would love to get quite social with a woman like you.”

Abby ignored her comment and sat down. Gemma wasn’t truly interested. She was needling her, and Abby refused to rise to the annoying jab. Instead, she remained focused on the reason for her visit.

“I need information, Gemma,” Abby said.

“A valuable commodity,” the woman said. Nodding toward the ceramic pot, she asked, “Tea?”

“I’m good,” was Abby’s reply.

Gemma poured herself a cup, saying, “Shame. Imported from beyond the Red Wastes. Quite a distinct flavor.”

“More of a coffee person,” Abby said.

The unmarred side of the woman’s scarred face quirked up in a half-smile. “Of course. I should have remembered that,” she said before taking a sip from her cup. “Now – what kind of information can I provide for you? I suppose congratulations are in order. I’d heard you evolved.”

“How did you know?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “It’s what I do, dear,” she said. “Evolution is not so common that a woman like me can ignore it.”

Abby sighed. That was the problem with dealing with someone like Gemma. She always knew far more than she should. But then again, that was the reason Abby was there.

“Crystal Spiders,” Abby said. “What do you know of them?”

“Assassin’s guild,” Gemma answered. “Nasty organization with an even nastier membership. Their people, they enjoy what they do.”

“You employ assassins, too,” Abby pointed out. Indeed, Gemma was one of the most prominent criminal figures in Beacon, so she had her fingers in a lot of illegal pies.

“A necessary facet of my business, dear,” Gemma stated. “Infrequently used and never enjoyed. The arachnids, they are different. They practically worship death and disease.”

“Do they get involved in anything outside of assassination?” Abby asked. “Like human trafficking?”

“No,” Gemma answered. “One of the few positives of their organization. They have no tolerance for slavery.”

Neither did Gemma, which was the only thing that separated the crime lord from her contemporaries. If it wasn’t for that, Abby wouldn’t have been there.

“Do you know anything of their operations?” Abby asked.

“They are a secretive bunch, so I know very little of their current activities,” Gemma stated.

“Who would?”

“Is this you calling in your favor?” the scarred woman asked.

Abby hesitated. While she wanted to know about the Crystal Spiders and their operations, she wasn’t entirely certain that it was worth using such an uncommon favor on. After all, a favor from someone like Gemma could be the difference between life and death. On top of that, there was every chance that no one would ever know what had happened on the road to Beacon. She and Zeke had covered their tracks. They were likely in the clear.

But curiosity burned within her. Goblins and assassins working together to kidnap caravanners? What’s more, they were going north, towards a forest of zombies? Abby thirsted for answers.

“I am.”

Gemma’s smile only reached one half of her face. “Very well, dear,” she said. “Silas Martel. He’s a monk within the Temple of the Sun. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s him.”

“A monk?”

“On the surface,” Gemma said. “To most, he is in charge of the temple’s combat training. That much is accurate, but he’s also Beacon’s spymaster. He answers only to Lady Constance herself.”

“And you think he’ll talk to me?” Abby asked.

Suddenly, a coin appeared in Gemma’s hand. Abby flinched, and the scarred crime lord laughed. “So jumpy,” the woman said. “You truly do need to relax.”

She flipped the coin to Abby, who caught it. “What is this?” she asked, turning the coin over in her hand. On one side was stamped a familiar sunburst pattern, but on the other was an unlidded eye.

“Show that to Silas,” the woman said. “He’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

“Thank you,” Abby said, knowing full well that the woman’s favor had extended far beyond what she could’ve hoped.

Gemma waved away her gratitude, saying, “You rescued my son from certain death. This is the least I could do.”

Indeed, two years before, she and Vlad had saved the woman’s teenaged son from a pack of goblins, which was how Abby had gotten the favor in the first place. It had just been a guild mission to exterminate the creatures, with the rescue being little more than a coincidence. But Gemma’s gratitude hadn’t taken that into account.

“Besides,” she said. “I hear you took care of that lech, Julio. That alone would’ve garnered you a favor.”

“W-what? How did you –”

Gemma spread her arms. “Again, it’s what I do, dear,” she said, one side of her face splitting into a grin. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I believe you’ve got a monk to find. Please give Silas my regards.”