The dreamscape was boiling with rage. Not my rage, but I felt it nevertheless. The rising heat. The swelling fog. The air tinged with red. I endured them all, imagining that they came from the forges around me.

“Insolent girl,” Wolf thundered, pacing up and down. “How dares she betray us?!”

“Entirely expected,” Tamie sourly noted.

Sweat trickled down my back, soaking my shirt. Damn nonexistent forges. Why was I here out of all places, anyway? This workshop was hidden in the depths of Fortram’s lower ring. It could have been anywhere else, I supposed, but Fortram had been a lot on my mind lately. Usually, I preferred to float over the dream replica of my city while tweaking stuff and admiring the results—but not today. Today, I was doing some real work.

“We should do something about her,” Lee said. His anger was cold and hard, a sharp contrast to Wolf’s fury.

“We will,” Tamie said. She, on the other hand, wasn’t angry or even disappointed. She had been expecting a betrayal from the beginning. “We hold a few surprises still.”

A simple yet sturdy wooden trunk sat in front of me on a table. I was close to finishing it; just a few more nails through the boards that held the lid together and the trunk would be done. Needless to say, it was an ugly thing. I was no carpenter. My only saving grace was that this was my dreamscape. My mindscape. I could be as creative in here as I wanted to be and trust my subconscious to hold things together. So even if I knew nothing of carpentry, I had other superpowers. I could bend physics to my will, which was almost as awesome as carpentry.

For instance, my trunk was bigger on the inside than on the outside. It was basic mind-magic stuff, the oldest trick in the book of fantasy. Easy to replicate in my opinion. Now, making the trunk sturdy too? That was an entirely different beast. I put the measuring tape against the lid as if I knew what I was doing, humming to myself. There, that was a good spot. I lifted a hammer in one hand and put my other hand against the side of my head. I needed something tough for this spot, something I hadn’t overused for this trunk. I rubbed my fingers against my temple, thinking hard.

I was still carrying more than enough guilt for murdering Simon. I tried to remember what he looked like and found only vague impressions. Good looking. Blonde. Trying too hard to be charming. Trying to boss me around, except he was just as clueless as any of us new Players. He had pyromancy-related powers. Quite useless, up until the end. The end. I did my best to save his hide—he would have died without my help much sooner. But then? Then I was about to get hurt and I used him as a cover. As a tool for my own survival. I had felt no sympathy back then, just a cold sense of purpose. I used Simon and he snapped, and once he turned against me I discarded him like a piece of trash.

It hadn’t been all me, of course. Lee had merged with me to ensure my survival. It was Lee’s disregard for Simon’s life that I had felt. I shouldn’t have felt guilty about it. I should have pinned the blame on Lee. But I didn’t—because deep down I knew that I would have used Simon’s life just the same. I had never liked our wannabe leader and my desire to live had been strong. There was a reason why Lee and I had been able to use Simon without hesitation. If I had been really against it, we wouldn’t have killed him.

“I say we kill her,” Wolf said. “It will hurt at first, but then we’ll feel better. She’s a festering torn in our side.”

The workshop became stiflingly hot. Lightning split the sky above. Thunder shook the walls.

“Would be a waste,” Tamie said. “She’s a useful tool.”

“Tools are meant to be used, though.”

“Stop distracting me,” I mumbled. I massaged the side of my skull, thinking of Simon. What did I feel guilty for? Was it for using him to survive? Was it for taking another person’s life? Or, perhaps, I felt guilty because up to that point, I had always thought of myself as a good person. This was all about me, wasn’t it? I would have never imagined myself as a murderer, yet here I was. Circumstances had shown how fickle my morality could be. I pulled at my head, at my skin and my flesh and my skull, at my memory and the emotions I was feeling. I pulled at them until I was holding yet another memory nail between my fingers.

I stared at the nail in wonder. It was full of fire, like the raging inferno that Simon had conjured in his last moments. Removing the nail from my head didn’t make the memories go away. It didn’t even make me feel any better about myself. But it was something to do.

I put the nail somewhere around the spot that I had forgotten to mark after using the measuring tape. The inferno within the memory nail felt hot against my fingers. The hammer in my other hand was slick with sweat. It was a simple hammer; no magic lights, no profound metaphors. Just a tool for hitting things hard. I brought it down on the memory nail. Each clang of the hammer’s head was a tortured bellow as Simon’s skin burned, a desperate cry as he plummeted to his death. It was over quickly, much like his life. There, done. The air in the workshop was cooling down.

“Another nail in the coffin?” Tamie asked.

“This is a trunk,” I said without looking up.

“Looks more like a turd,” Wolf said.

“Hey, don’t be crass. It will look better once I paint it over. I think.”

“Why don’t you just create a nicer one?” Lee asked, snapping his fingers. “Like that.”

A beautiful, ornate wooden chest appeared next to me. It looked nice enough at first glance, but looking closer it was obvious that nothing really held it together. Lee had pictured the whole product in his mind, but the underlying structure didn’t make sense. I poked the ornate box with a finger and the entire thing collapsed onto itself.

“You need more nails,” I said.

“If I wanted to, I could have thought up something with nails.”

“Sure,” I said, shrugging. Then I turned back to my trunk, wondering which memory to use for my next nail.

Wolf snorted. “You’re a strange one, Roland.

“That’s okay, smartass spirits,” I huffed. “You’re strange too. Tell me, why exactly are you trying to pick a fight again? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“We really don’t,” Tamie smartly said. “We’re sleeping.”

“Why?”

“Our mortal shell needs some rest,” Lee wisely replied.

“Yeah,” Wolf agreed, scratching his head. “But why now?”

That question gave them a pause.

“I don’t remember going to sleep,” Lee said.

“Our brain is overexerted,” Tamie said. “Shaping the dreamscape and having these conversations are just making it worse.”

“That doesn’t answer Roland’s question.”

“We sat down tiredly. Then we passed out. Simple as that.”

“Worrying.”

“We need to toughen up. Why is it that we can’t stay up for a single day?”

“Already told you why.”

“We should try to wake up. We’re defenseless at the moment.”

“Sure.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Roland? Would you lend us a hand?”

Randel woke up with a start and found himself face to face with Tora. The Thardos kid jumped back in fright, his whiskers swaying wildly. As twitchy as ever.

“S-Sorry, Randel. I have, uh, found Devi. But you fell asleep.”

“Good,” Randel said, rising to his feet. He looked around. He was in his office and he had indeed passed out in his chair. Sloppy. He refocused his attention on Tora.

“Where is she?”

“In the cathedral.”

“The cathedral?”

“It’s an, uh, very large church in the middle of—”

“I know what a cathedral is and where it’s located. What is Devi doing there?”

“I, uh, don’t know. Praying?”

Randel scowled, then left his office without any further comment. He went straight to the nearest portal center, found an empty portal disk, and consulted his minds for a portal hub close to the cathedral. He remembered one, and he remembered the custom symbols belonging to it. The portal opened right after he had drawn the symbols. He stepped through and set off with a brisk walk.

The cathedral was an impressively tall building, even if its size was overshadowed by the city walls between the rotating sections of the city. As far as architecture went, the Church of the Moon took plenty of inspiration from catholic churches on Earth. A shame, really. I would have loved to see humans integrate the culture of other species. A cathedral influenced by Avarii or Noruk architecture would have been quite a sight! I stopped for a moment and leaned back to look up. If Fortram hadn’t been sunk underground, the moonlight would have been illuminating the white stone of the cathedral right now to make it shine like a beacon. But as things currently stood, only the glowing plants lit the building from below. It didn’t quite achieve the same feel as the moonlight would have. How would it have? Light from above had lent a holy glow to the cathedral, while this meager light from below only succeeded to make this place look ominous. I tried to commit the sight into memory. Perhaps one day I’d have the chance to paint it…

Randel shook his head. What was he doing? A section of the cathedral was open to the public at all times, and he walked right through its entrance. There weren’t many visitors around at this time of the night. He walked past a ceremonial fountain to enter the enormous nave, where rows after rows of pews were set up in front of a grand altar. Every second step of his clanged as his prosthetic leg struck the smooth tiles, but the sound was dulled, for the Sound magic rune inlays hidden amongst the tiles suppressed any noise.

The cathedral was decorated richly with interesting motifs, but it was the chancel behind the altar that drew Randel’s eyes the most. Ten large marble-white statues stood in a semi-circle, watching him from behind their simple, three-eyed masks. The statues wore near-identical suits, half of them female and half of them male, with postures that ranged from formal to casual. These were the gods that the major religions on Nerilia worshipped. The Faceless Gods from the Moon. Arbiters or life and death. Inspectors.

Randel tore his eyes away from the statues, scanning the pews instead. Light magic lamps were fixed on most pillars, making the cathedral’s interior bright enough to showcase all the opulence; painted glass windows, murals and paintings and mosaic tiles on every solid surface. The only exception was the chancel, where the area around the Inspectors was oddly bare. The clean white marble of the statues was a refreshing sight—Randel shook his head, frowning. Why was he so focused on the statues? Was something messing with his head, or was it just Roland’s weird fixations? As he resumed his walk down the rows, it almost felt as if the Inspector statues were watching him from behind their masks. He did his best to ignore them, focusing on the occasional worshipper among the pews.

He found Devi in the front rows. Fortram’s Dungeon Master sat primly, her back straight and her hands clasped, her wide amber eyes set on the marble statues. The tight leathers she wore looked great on her as usual, making Randel feel annoyed at how attractive he found her. It was just hormones. His minds were able to express sufficient self-control that it didn’t influence his decisions, but his body’s biology did distract him from time to time. Devi carried herself with a natural grace that few women possessed. She was thin by Sylven standards, but slim by human standards—and perfect by Roland’s standards. It was a flawed and subjective opinion that tainted Randel’s many thoughts.

Seeing her always made him feel conflicted. The tip of Devi’s left horn had been cleaved off, and she had a vertical scar across her eyebrow, over her left eye, down to her cheek. A lighter blue line on her dark blue skin, almost matching her freckles in color. It looked artistic—and wrong. The regeneration that Players received outside of combat should have healed her injury properly, but it hadn’t. It deliberately hadn’t. It had left the scar as a reminder. So that Randel felt guilty whenever he saw her. And yet, and yet … the scar wasn’t even the worst thing that had happened to Devi’s face. In my opinion, the biggest change was that she never smiled anymore. I had myself to blame for that too.

Randel watched Devi’s profile for a long while, staying still and silent. She kept her eyes on the statues.

“What do you want, creature?” she asked, the runes muffling her voice as if she were underwater. Randel sat down within arm’s reach of her, neither too close nor too far, without answering her question. She knew exactly why he was here; she was the only one from the council who would have dared to lock him out of the control room. But now that Randel was here, he realized that he didn’t want to jump straight into that argument.

“You have never been a religious person,” he said, “yet here you are, praying. Why?”

If Devi was surprised by this line of questioning, she showed none of it. Her face was almost as still and emotionless as the statues she was watching.

“I had a change of heart recently.”

“You’ve met the Inspectors twice already. You saw what they are like.”

“So?”

“They don’t deserve to be prayed to, and they definitely don’t deserve the precious time you’re wasting in this place.”

“Oh? Thank you very much, but I can decide that for myself. I’ve met them twice, yes. It’s two more than the times I met the Creator. It’s two more times proven that they are real.”

“Being real doesn’t mean that you have to lick their feet. I thought you had more backbone, Devi.”

“Is that why you came here, creature? To criticize my choice of religion?”

Randel watched her profile, absently drumming his fingers on the backrest behind her, trying to think things objectively through. Why did Devi’s beliefs bother him so much? Part of him was disappointed in her … but it didn’t affect his plans, at least not outright. However, if the Inspectors got their hooks any deeper into her they could use her against him. They would undoubtedly enjoy putting him in a position where he had to choose between his principles and siding with Devi and her gods. High time to cut ties with her. And speaking of cutting ties…

“Do you know where Nosy is?”

“Nosy? Why?”

“I want to find him.”

“Then teleport him to your dagger.”

“I want to find him because my bond with him is broken.”

“Ah,” Devi said. “Nosy hangs around our new house a lot. You know, where Randel and I slept together the last time. Have you forgotten about the place already?”

Randel considered that question for a moment.

“I did forget. Are you still sleeping there? I’ve already warned you, that place isn’t secure.”

Devi turned to finally look at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her eyes furious.

“You could have at least pretended to remember,” she hissed. “Could you be any more heartless, Mad Painter? I hope you’re taking good care of Randel’s body, because I’m going to get it back. That’s the only reason I’m suffering your presence! By the way, have you been sleeping recently? You look awful, and your clothes are unwashed. When was the last time you’ve eaten? I swear, if you leave any lasting harm on Randel’s—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Randel cut her off, or rather, spoke over her. “You can push me, but my patience has limits too. You repeat the same arguments—”

“Because they are worth repeating!”

“—and you’re making a scene right in the heart of your place of worship.”

She shut her mouth and looked around almost abashed. Almost. A moment later her glare was back on Randel.

“Stanley has left Fortram,” she said. “He said that I’ll tour the country and spread his name, so that he can step up his game. But I think he just didn’t want to be part of this madness any longer.”

Randel nodded. He agreed with Devi; there was no logical reason for Stanley to stay and help him. They had dropped the pretense of friendship since Randel’s change anyway. It didn’t bother Randel, though. Devi thought it would hurt him that another of his companions had left, but losing Stanley wasn’t a big deal. Randel was already hiring other bards to make his name more widely known.

“I’m going to leave for a while too,” Randel said.

The change on Devi’s face was immediate—from angry to suspicious to alarmed.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is. I’m coming with you.”

“No, you don’t. As the Dungeon Master, you’ll be staying right here. Keep the city together for me.”

“For you?” Devi spat. “You’re trying to provoke me, aren’t you, creature? You look at me with those cold and calculating eyes, gauging my reaction. Well, I’m not going to budge. I’ll give the Core to Imaya and come with you.”

“If you do that, I’ll kill Imaya and take the Core for myself.”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“But I’ll be the Dungeon Master.”

“You wouldn’t do it. You’re bluffing.”

Randel said nothing. He was, perhaps, indeed bluffing. He wasn’t sure. Some part of him believed that being the Dungeon Master was more trouble than it was worth. Letting someone else have the Dungeon Core and then telling them what to do was much more convenient.

“You won’t be able to get to Imaya,” Devi said. “I locked you out of the control room.”

“I know.”

“Besides, Imaya is Randel’s friend. She is valuable to you.”

Randel cocked his head a little. “So?”

“You like her, don’t you? You wouldn’t want her dead.”

“Ah,” Randel sighed. He leaned back, arms on the pew’s backrest, head hanging. “Well, that’s inconvenient.”

“See? You won’t be able to kill—”

“No, you misunderstand me. What’s inconvenient is that to disprove your claim, I will have to kill someone close to me. Be careful how much you push me, Devi. You think you can manipulate me, but it has only ever worked because I let you. You mistake my tolerance for compassion. You think you’re safe from me—but guess what? I’ll get rid of you too, one day. Your life is but a passing moment in my eternal existence. It matters little whether you die by my hands or by any other means. In the very end, you will be dust and I will remain.”

There was a pleasant stretch of silence as his words faded. Randel enjoyed it very much.

“You’re a monster,” Devi whispered.

“A monster? Nah. The Monster is Victor—the other Shadebound Player. I’m just a mad artist with an unusual perspective on our universe. You think that I’m bad? Please. You should see the other shades, Devi. Not all of us took to this endless existence as gracefully as I did. I am the most reasonable creature from the Astral Plane that you’ll ever meet!”

“At least you’re humble,” she said, her voice cracking. Broken.

“Yeah.”

“The most humble person in the universe,” she said, letting out a bitter chuckle. “That’s what Randel would joke about right now, I’m sure. He would roll his eyes too.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Did you just…”

“What is it, Devi?” Randel asked, shaking off the weird urge to roll his eyes again. “Did you think that being ageless means I have no sense of humor?”

“What sense of humor? Nothing funny has happened.”

“Ouch, that burns,” Randel said with a smile—which then turned into a frown. What was he doing? He schooled his features and sat up straight. Devi did so too.

“Alright,” she said, taking a deep breath to compose herself. “I’ll stay here and supervise Fortram until you return. How long will you be away?”

Randel eyed her suspiciously.

“You’re up to something.”

“As always.”

Randel nodded. “Just remember what I said.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry, I will. I’ll keep it in mind at all times.”

Randel suspected that she wasn’t thinking of the same thing he was, but he let it slide. He rose from his seat, preparing to leave.

“One more thing before I go,” he said, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. He then tossed a card into Devi’s lap. “That symbol leads to my secret stash. Aside from money, you’ll find information on most of our opponents in there. Notes on House Quinn’s Players, stolen records from the Factory, the whereabouts of Roach’s son, things like that. There are also quite a few of my plans about how to keep our allies in line, all written down and organized, the best that my four minds could offer. Use those notes however you will.”

“I—alright. Thank you. How long until you come back?”

“Only a few days, if all goes well,” Randel said. He found himself staring at the Inspector statues once more. “But knowing how fickle the gods are, I doubt that everything will go well. It’s going to take as long as it needs to take.”

“Needs to take for … what?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Devi sighed. “Will you ever give me a straight answer?”

“Maybe,” Randel said, turning to go. “Until next time, Devi.”

He walked away with a heavy heart, Devi’s parting words chasing him out.

“See you soon, Randel.”