“I thought we were all going to die.” A shaken looking Gordan proclaims, sinking back, letting his body slide down until he's sitting against a wall. Where I and a handful of tagalongs have recently been displaced to.

“Indeed. The creature was unexpectedly dangerous.” I agree with him. “Unexpected in many regards really. I've never seen a fully matured monster behave so aggressively. Usually when the heart matures it tends to calm the beasts.”

To my left, leaning heavily against the one still barred door of the first antechamber of the temple, one of the armored humans removes his helm – revealing a plain looking face, with soft brown eyes and short cropped hair. He exhales a long sigh.

“How did we survive?” He asks simply, eyes meeting mine.

“A displacement Rune human, you should really learn to recognize such things – it's an invaluable skill in any battle against anyone with an ounce of magical ability. After all displacement is not too difficult to disrupt or dispel. Only really sufficient when your opponent is a worm. I'm somewhat dubious it was entirely necessary but the corruption is just so unpleasant to feel – even at this range – I truly couldn't stand the thought of getting some on me.” I explain jovially, still somewhat exhilarated by my brush with unknown magic – a brush that managed to draw out a ghost of my younger self, a woman focused entirely on voraciously acquiring every scrap of magical knowledge in the world she could get her hands on, from under and above it.

Because it's interesting isn't it? To think a lowly beast like that could pose some marginal amount of threat to someone like me, simply because it upsets and uproots the fundamental principles of the world by its mere presence! If I had half the taste for battle that I did ten thousand years ago – hells even five thousand – it would be invaluable as an opponent, even if I would have to handicap myself significantly. As it is my feelings are mixed, in truth my life would be much easier if that beast – and presumably others like it – did not exist but seeing that it does, learning that now, will no doubt be useful to Pink as she plans our next steps. Which will ultimately make my life easier, if you just take a long enough view.

This feeling of discovery is something entirely missing for my typical mode of operation, which involves delegating anything and everything. The tree was large, immobile and largely dealt with by my subordinates, boring in short – my attentions entirely consumed by creating the magic to destroy the thing. My part no less important, nothing less than vital in fact, but not particularly interesting. The solution was – as it always is – the proper application of force. Precise, minute, a hundred times a second applications granted – but just one more problem that could be crushed under the weight of my magic. So these corrupted beasts have value, in that sense at least. The future promises to be full of problems that may require a bit of …lateral thinking.

That said I do have goals here, outside of just killing the thing, have to keep that in mind.

“Not all of us escaped.” Gordan states, his voice careful, not quite an accusation.

And indeed our little party has shrunk a bit from four humans to only three. One human managed to evade my displacement Rune, Karr is no longer with us.

“He seemed a competent enough man, I'm sure he had some reason for escaping the displacement.” I say innocently, earning another round of inscrutable glances. “More importantly, did you humans see that thing? Is that why your magic is so pathetic? Due to the hopelessness of pitting magic directly against the corruption? No …nevermind that makes no sense. There are any number of indirect methods obviously.

“And besides the sort of regression I'm seeing can't be explained by just that. It also wouldn't cause the various body strengthening techniques to be lost alongside your magic. Am I just misremembering the competence of human magicians? Its been so long since I last saw one… If anything body strengthening should have advanced by leaps and bounds – it's probably the most effective method of dealing with that sort of creature, from my observations, because your internal mana would be much more difficult to disrupt… I would need to have Pink here to confirm properly though, Kaos knows I won't be touching a worm! In fact… Pink…” After babbling a bit my voice trails off. Wha- Why? What?

Why am I getting all excited about servant work. What is the meaning of this? I feel Pink maybe lacks my deductive capacity, so this information is useful – but speaking it now, speaking it here, with only humans for company, is worse than useless. And I wonder – did the humans see the failure of the Aegis? My eyes dart around the three faces, who stare back at me with blank-eyed exhaustion in one case, painfully straightforward earnestness in another, and finally a metal plate mask that makes the face behind it unreadable – though the eyes are slightly questioning. Does it matter if they did? I'm not entirely sure what to make of it myself – though already a few theories and methods to test them are bouncing around in my head, something for Pink to do the next time I see her – but it shouldn't be a terrible blow for this pack of wretches to have seen.

The Aegis of Kaos is the closest thing demons have to “divine” magic. It and a handful of other such spells are the only way for a demon to channel the power of our deity – and unlike most such “divine” magic using it is only a matter of having the power to do so. Kaos does not expect faith, only strength – which is probably why He has always gone unacknowledged almost entirely in demonic society. If he has started demanding faith from those who wish to wield his power, or some such nonsense, my arsenal will be marginally reduced. Unfortunate.

“I've never seen that monsters like, Lady Alexandria.” Gordan responds slowly. “But it is clearly powerful and unnatural, magic is typically not so ineffective against the Unbound – even of the Knight Class. It might be even above Knight Class, to be able to shatter the barriers of a tenth circle mage so easily, or perhaps it is due to some unknown reaction between the Unbound and your demonic energy – I can't say for sure.”

“I don't think that is the case, though I can't say it's outside the realm of possibility. Pink has been enthusiastically dealing with every corrupted beast we've met for weeks now – largely relying on her magic – so if there is some sort of resistance at play, it would be unique to that creature…” I say while pondering his words. Because in a roundabout way the corrupted creatures have been corrupted by demonic energy, it isn't much of a stretch to think that might result in some atypical interactions. Perhaps the corruption does not unmake all magic – only mine?

…Doubtful.

“Oi!” A loud voice interrupts loudly. “Who goes there? That one of Aurora's musicians? What in the hells are ya doin' down here?”

At my side the humans bristle, hands going to weapons, Gordan springing to his feet. I turn to face the voice and see a giant silhouetted against one of the now-open doors of the entryway. A slightly familiar giant who is wearing a massive greatcoat with a deadly looking warhammer slung across his back, the man towers over me, seeming to loom even from half a dozen paces away. Beneath the coat I can see a glint of metal and magic, some sort of armor encasing his muscular body from his boots to his beard. He is also perhaps the first human I've met that properly uses a body strengthening technique of some sort – as evidenced by the mana circulating in his body, pulsing out from his core in slow even waves. As I meet his eyes he pauses, an unfathomable expression flitting across his slab-like features.

Then his face breaks into a wide smile, like the face of a mountain cracking wide and exposing tombstones of enamel. It's a face that would give even a Demon King pause. I hear an exasperated sigh as a slight wisp of a woman steps around him and into the building. This new human is wearing blue robes imbued with some marginal defensive magic by a stylized crest on the shoulder, her hood is thrown back to reveal stern features under neat shoulder length blonde hair. Her fingers are absently drumming a large glass orb attached to a thin and heavily engraved metal rod that secured to her thin belt by a leather holster – a focus of some variety.

“Gorim, I told you there was a higher circle mage than I here – and that we need to proceed with caution.” She practically hisses at the mountain of a man.

Ignoring her entirely the huge man addresses me. “Why iffin it isn't the pretty lassie from the other day. You look different! I took you for one of Aurora's folk at first. The new look is good though, more honest.”

I preen, my wings flaring out behind me. Inviting him to bask in my radiance as he likes – as has been my wont when dealing with supplicants since time immemorial. Well, when I'm awake for the occasion.

“Gorim, we don't have-” The woman tries to interject, but is ignored.

“We ought to have words, you and I – my office is a ruin after yer pretty little friends visit – but right now duty calls.” The mountainous man continues.

“Your office… Wait, she's Clearwater's other 'VIP'?” The woman asks from the side. “Weren't you explicitly told not-”

“There's a nasty Unbound about, a big 'un, probably holed up in here somewhere, you seen anything like that?” Gorim continues to ignore the woman completely, talking over her to ask his question.

“Guildmaster, thank Krin you've come. But how did you know to? Did the checkpoint manage to send for help before they were overwhelmed?” Gordan interrupts the large man's questioning, sparing me from deciding whether or not to answer.

“Nah, we only seen what happened to the checkpoint while we was comin' up this way. Sheryl there wiggled her fingers a bit an' told me we was needed up here, she's got a talent for that sort of thing.” Gorim pauses, doing a quick double take and seeming to notice who he's talking to. “Eh? Ain't you the lord's pup? What're ya doin' here?” Gorim asks blankly.

“I was tasked by my father to escort Lady Alexandria back to the manor, we ended up sidetracked in pursuit of a Knight Class unbound – a foul thing that looks much like a Shad Grub – and are here after escaping a brief encounter with the beast.” Gordan explains.

“If you are escorting her, than please see that she is escorted Ser Clearwater.” Sheryl speaks from the side, her voice tight. “But Gorim, we have no time for this, even now the seal could…”

“Aye. Aye. I understand woman!” Gorim cries sourly. Then to us: “As someone is quite keen to remind me, constantly, we're ina turrible rush right now, so we'll hafta finish this some other time – sounds like I got a grub to smush.”

“Seal? What seal? What is she talking about, that's so important the Adventurer's Guildmaster has been called to deal with personally in the midst of this crisis?” Gordan asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Guild business laddie, nothin' ta worry yer noble little head about.” Gorim gives a dismissive reply. Gesturing for Sheryl to follow him, the two of them pass us by and head deeper into the temple.

“Wait! What the hells? You can't just ignore me!” Gordan shouts, striding alongside. “Something was strange about all this from the start, with the unusual way the Unbound is behaving – what do you two know?”

His two guardsmen fall into step behind their lordling and I trail reluctantly behind. Unsure how I should feel about these new developments. It ultimately matters not how the wretch within this temple is dealt with but I did have certain hopes…

“Clearwater, the seal – or specifically what it protects – is vital to Shadfer's survival. More than that I can't say, even if you are the dukes son.” Sheryl explains tersely. “My magic informed me of an unusually powerful Unbound in the vicinity of the seal, by coincidence most likely. So we've been dispatched to verify that the seal has not been breached and deal with the Unbound threatening it, as is entirely typical.

“I can't tell you not to follow us, but please do not distract me any further, unless it is to contribute. I need to prepare my spells to destroy the Knight Class.” A slight tremble shakes the woman's voice as she slips her wand from its holster.

Gordan looks marginally mollified at the explanation. “Tch… father and his secrets.” He mutters.

“But if you intend to fight the thing you should know what we discovered about it. It looked like a Shad Grub. Except it was huge, large enough to nearly fill the room – much bigger than the little parasitic worms in Shad Trees. But the spines are unmistakable, so there should be no mistake calling it an Unbound Shad Grub …I didn't even know the little things were monsters.” He tells her.

“I see.” Sheryl says frowning.

“The Unbound core was entirely black and it attacked us with a huge amount of its spines the moment we entered the room with it. The spines – well you can see them all over the place, they're massive – much more dangerous from the little sticks the grubs give careless lumberjacks. More than that I can't say, we had to retreat immediately.” Gordan says.

“No magic then? A Knight Class?” Sheryl asks.

“Right, it used no magic at all when we encountered it or at the checkpoint. So it should be a Knight Class.” Gordan confirms. Then to me: “Lady Alexandria, should we aid the adventurer's in slaying the beast? Or shall we withdraw here?”

I regard the impertinent human through half lidded eyes.

“I do not intend to withdraw.” I say simply.

“Tha's the right attitude girl!” Gorim chuckles. “Gots ta have a bit o' steel in yer spine to get anywhere in this life, Sher, mayhap if ya stand close to that one a bit of her bravery will rub off – whaddya think?”

Sheryl glares daggers at the large man's back for just a moment before composing herself.

“Thank you, Ser Clearwater. Your information may well prove to be useful.” She says tersely.

As Gorim walks he pulls his massive greathammer into his hands, swinging it loosely about a few times while striding forward towards the hole that used to house a pair of huge double doors until recently. Beyond that gap the pale green light cast by my wisp is still illuminating the room beyond, though the angle makes it difficult to see the beast that lurks there. Sheryl follows, her face notably a bit pale, despite her assurance that the situation is routine. But her stride is determined, her wand thrust before her, and she is already murmuring under her breath, incanting. Gordan and his men follow as well, much less enthusiastically, remembering what lies beyond that portal no doubt.

As we close the final few steps I watch the woman – Sheryl – with a bit of interest. In much the way Pink does, or used to at any rate, she seems to rely entirely on incantation – with abysmal pronunciation and grammatical understanding, her magic is just barely comprehensible – but with a bit of an odd quirk. Her spell makes heavy use of the Word tethov – borrowed from the celestial tongue, it means something like “be clean” or “to clean” – and it periodically purges the corruption from the mana gathering around her to be used for her spell. Proof that some sort of magical research is happening – the was certainly no need for such functionality in your incantations as little as a thousand years ago.

But how could there be a person or organization with sufficient understanding of the workings of magic to make such modifications – but also be so apparently incompetent that simple grammar and pronunciation escapes them? It doesn't make any sense. Idly I wonder when I last met a competent magician, casting my mind back through legions of servants and minions I've met briefly over the years… but no one comes to mind. Odd.

“Tha' is a huge grub.” Gorim's voice breaks me from my reverie and I find myself once more across the threshold and looking down at the huge corrupted monster.

“It seems to have planted itself directly atop the seal.” Sheryl says, her eyes fixed on that glowing patch of floor I noted earlier – visible beneath the beasts skin. “But it doesn't seem to have managed to breach it, we've arrived in time.”

As she speaks the worm, with the lengthy the coils of its body stretched everywhere throughout the room, is once again twisting and contorting itself in order to level its spears in our direction.

“Jus' got ta kill the thing then.” Gorim declares, launching himself forward without ado.

The massive hammer finds the beasts flank before it can bring its weapons to bear – crashing into a large segment of the worm, leg-like appendages snapping and breaking beneath the things skin. For a moment the skin flexes with the hammer, partially absorbing the impact, before Gorim unleashes some sort of martial technique and smashes his hammer fully into the floor – directly through the thing. The result is a flattened segment of the worm a half dozen feet wide – a small dent in the thing's massive body that opens a path for the man to strike deeper into the room.

If the worm is hurt – if it can even feel pain – it gives no indication, save maybe a slight hastening in the contortions and undulations of its body, unhindered by the damage it seems. Gorim stands there in the ruined mass of flesh he has created even as the worm brings all of its weapons to bear, launching its opening salvo. At my side Sheryl is rapidly finishing her incantation.

“Wind of Emperor. Be Clean. Call upon, do I, you. Be Clean. Burst!” Is what she's saying – I think, hard to tell with her atrocious pronunciation – repeated over and over like a mantra. The Words borrowed from a half dozen different languages – or the one language of magic, depending on which theory you subscribe to. Demonstrating that she knows at least a handful of Words of Power and simultaneously calling into question if she understands them at all.

The results though, are unquestionable, no matter how inefficiently obtained. Gorim doesn't even spare a glance to the death bearing down on him on all sides, trusting in her to handle things, he pushes further into the room towards the small patch of light – and the “head” of the beast resting atop it. As the spears close to what must be an uncomfortably short distance a thunderclap rings throughout the room – and if not for a bit of quick spellwork on my part I'm certain my wardrobe would have been quite disheveled by the huge blast of air that explodes through the room. The spears are as one forced to the ground by the explosive burst of air, clacking and clattering against the stone floor.

Gorim peeks back over his shoulder, entirely unruffled by the magic, and gives Sheryl a frightening glare – or maybe an encouraging grin – before refocusing his attentions on the task at hand, smashing his hammer into another point on the worm's body where the spears are being formed. Opening his path further and at the same time reducing his opponents ability to retaliate. A wise course of action, if my appraisal of this human mage is at all accurate, I doubt she has many more blasts like that one in her – but already she is incanting again.

Spared the worm's attentions, I'm free to wander deeper into the room. Reflecting with a hint of annoyance at the obvious solution employed by the human mage. If your magic doesn't survive contact with your opponent – you need only use some sort of proxy. Obviously, in hindsight. She has opted to forcefully push the air around but one could just as easily toss a stone. Thinking so, I look up at one of the defaced walls of the temple – it would be a trifle to reshape the stone wall into a massive sledge, or just rip a chunk of it out, spears and all, to be used as a barrier. Not that I'll bother, I don't think, it would be too much effort to solve a problem in the midst of being solved.

I skirt around the edge of the room, taking great care not to step in any of the beasts disgusting residue. Though I burnt much of it away, already much more has been redeposited and just looking at it causes my perpetual discomfort to intensify. Would that one of my servants were at hand to distract me from the skin crawling sensation… Ah, well, Emily is here too I suppose, in this room. I can't see her, but I can sense that she is here, through the link between us. As I more or less expected, from the rough gauge I have of her personality – I'd rather hoped she would be the one to rid the world of the “Shad Worm” as Gordan called it.

Stepping around a viscous pool of questionable looking liquid and briefly taking to the air to pass over an errant coil of the beasts body, I muse on the ruins of my rather simplistic plan. Because I'm fairly certain there are humans here, in this temple, beneath this room in fact – behind that seal – and I felt it would be a good opportunity to impress upon the girl the full extent of the usefulness of what I have gifted her. Impress upon her what a waste it would be to throw that away by being …uncooperative.

I stop myself short, slipping a halfstep backwards to avoid an oncoming projectile. In front of me the large human man – Gorim – slams into the wall. He looks slightly ragged from his contest with the beast, his greatcoat torn and pierced in many places, a trio of grooves dug into his breastplate sometime quite recently. Turning my head I see the unusually thick “tail” segment of the worm rapidly thrusting fourth, following the man, dozens of the especially thick leg-appendages protruding from its tip, eager to skewer him. Before the tail reaches though a thick block of ice materializes, rising from the floor and encasing a portion of it, jerking the oncoming tail to a halt.

In the distance I can see Sheryl – surrounded by similar blocks of ice that are riddled with spears, and the other three humans who stayed behind with her – her wand brandished in one hand, the other held aloft and closed around a tiny object I can't make out at this distance. She says something, thrusting her hand still higher, and the mana around her ripples in response to her will – focused through the object in her hand – and a dozen more two foot thick panes of ice rise from the floor along the length of the tail, trapping it firmly. It looks as if she is using a proper magical item, I see now the reason for her confidence despite her relatively small capacity for mana.

Gorim has already regained his feet – and his hammer – and launches himself forward again without so much as a backward glance. I wonder if he even noticed how close he came to bodily slamming into me… Shaking my head slightly incredulously I continue my circuitous route, approaching the center of the room slowly and carefully. Behind me I hear snaps and cracks – almost like heavy panes of ice being shattered under immense strain – but I pay them no mind.

My thoughts drifting once more to the newest and most reluctant addition to my forces. It unfortunate really, because this was something of a golden opportunity. To bring her around to my way of thinking through simple demonstration. There are many problems in the lives of tiny insects that even a small sliver of my power can resolve unconditionally. She should be made aware of that, made aware of the nature of the gift I've given her. Power is nothing short of intoxicating, as any number of fools have discovered over the years, she need only be nudged to drink from that well – to discover that intoxication. To become drunk on it, drunk on me.

If I could impress that upon her, by say, putting her in a difficult situation in which she is forced to rely on me – my power. Then it would follow that she would realize that serving me is the most natural and obvious decision, whatever her goals or motivations. There is no road not made smoother when you have the ability to flatten any obstacle that rises in your way.

I pause, regarding the impasse I've found myself at – physically. It's no longer possible to move forward without coming into contact with either the body of the beast or its horrible leavings. Looking around the room is in chaos, blanketed alternately by slime, muck, the oversized worm's body, and dozens of huge chunks of ice – some whole, shaped like pillars and walls, but mostly just crushed debris, the worm having been using its massive size to its advantage. The crushed and flattened bits of the worm don't seem to be slowing it much at all, though by targeting the nodes where spears were forming Gorim has crippled its offensive ability somewhat, I can still see spears forming throughout the things body – but at a much slower rate.

In response the worm is moving about with uncanny speed, attempting to crush the humans with its bulk, but at no time leaving the seal in the floor uncovered. Its in the way, in short. So I point my hand at a far wall, visualizing my intent, then speaking.

“Artil.” I speak. A Word that means “down”.

The effect is immediate and I feel my power slipping away from me rapidly to meet the impossible demands of the spell. Because it's not even a spell in the proper sense of the word, it is just magic imbued with meaning and intent – striving to meet impossible expectations – the result leaves even I feeling slightly drained. In response to that the world – or at least the world inside this room – tilts on its axis, the floor beneath my feet suddenly a wall, the distant wall suddenly a floor – sixty feet away.

I catch myself easily with my wings. Gorim also instantly notices the change and disentangles himself from the worm, leaping to a nearby pillar of ice and standing atop its side. A shout rings out and a cradle of ice sprouts from the wall – the floor? – catching Sheryl. Distantly I can see Gordan and his men, who have retreated outside the room – and outside the effect of my magic – and thus seem to be standing horizontally on the wall from my perspective.

The worm however, simply falls. Its great body smashing through any obstacles of ice or stone it comes into contact with, plummeting to the wall I pointed at and landing with a terrific wet slap. A great heap of protruding spears and jellylike flesh puddled far below me. Its muck as well, slides down along the former floor, revealing the seal.

Job done I unmake the magic with a thought. The room returns to its original orientation, Gorim falls a foot or so flat on his back while Sheryl's cradle collapses atop her like a cage with the sudden shift. Ignoring the fools, thankful that my wings spare me those sorts of indignities, I gently glide the dozen or so paces that stood between me and the seal. A second later Gorim has rolled to his feet and is standing by my side, while Sheryl is still crawling out from beneath her cage of ice.

“Tha' was interestin' magic girl.” Gorim says, his hulking frame looming over me. "Why dun you do useful things like that Sher?"

“Interesting!? Try impossible!” A weary looking Sheryl mutters incredulously as she drags herself to her feet and stumbles over to us.

“The beast yet lives humans.” I inform them, hopeful they can go back to frolicking with it and leaving me alone to examine this seal.

The floor is made up of many large black stone tiles and the white glowing seal is inscribed atop one of them. A more simplistic Rune Formation, like the ones on the gates, designed to bar entry. Looking directly at it, the Formations one this one tile seem to be a small part of a greater whole, casting my eyes about I can make out the vague outline of the entire Formation, which covers the entire room, and is largely obscured by purple muck or destroyed by spears driven into the stone. The worms fall cleared away a great many of those spears, and as a result the pattern of destruction is obvious, oozing holes in the floor directly atop the lines that make up the Rune Formation. The beast was intentionally destroying the seal and was nearly finished.

Even as I watch the one segment of floor still alive with magic flickers and dies. The seal broken before my eyes, the stone crumbles away and reveals a gaping hole in the floor. Within I see a stairway leading down. A half-crazed and desperate looking human holding an odd stick, surrounded by a flock of smaller humans. As the seal crumbles to nothing the man is already gesturing and encouraging the small humans to flee. I pay him and his charges no mind, looking down into the deeper place, a glow of white light, bright like the midday sun yet buried in dirt and stone, tries to scorch my eyes. Defiantly I glare down at the puny magic.

And at once the room is awash with the source of our conflict, the magic pulsing fourth uninhibited, unconcealed. Suddenly the center of, and privy to, the intricate workings of a massive spell my perception slips, the room around me made tiny, inconsequential, as I – with my superior perceptions – instinctively trace the massive tide of mana the emanates from this place. As if my view has been pulled up into the sky I can see it, doing its ponderous work, the land for a hundred miles in every direction feeling the steady emanation of magic from beneath this room. Distantly I'm aware of small humans moving rapidly around me, a few even getting close enough to touch in their mad dash to leave.

But I am unable to acknowledge them or their passage, distracted as I am by my widened view. The dirt beneath our feet thrums with the power of this place and it extends outward – so far! – until I can see hills, rivers, and rolling plains, the local geography laid bare before me. A few spots that are gnarled and black, twisted and corrupt but mostly just endless fields quietly drinking in the power this place feeds them, the power that rolls out from here – a smooth and steady wave. And there at the center – in this room with me I note distantly – is something amiss. A growth. Foul and unwanted, cancerous corruption, seeing its opportunity, leaping at the chance!

And my eyes snap back, focusing on what is in front of me, the worm. It has regained itself and is diving forward, its huge body smashing into Gorim as it comes, a sickening crunch ringing out as the man is flung once more. The adventurer was distracted by the emergence of more humans, and did not react in time. The beasts foul head is mere feet away, hungrily plunging toward the now open portal, when I finally react, a barrier materializing – a thin pane of green magic. A mistake, I note too late.

There is a gloopy smush sound as the worm's horrid face meets my magic and is held for the briefest of instants before it can bring its thousands of tiny “teeth” to bear – shattering my magic and continuing forward on its momentum. Then a thunderclap rings out, a huge blast of wind slamming into the monster, forcing it to the ground. Flattened by the wind.

“Burst!” I belatedly hear from the side.

“Well done human. The beast mustn't be allowed to proceed here. Hold it a moment-” I pause, saving my breath. The human woman has already turned away and is dashing across the room toward Gorim's prone form.

Annoying, I think, as I run my right hand – alight with magic – through empty air, taking advantage of my currently heightened perceptions – poking holes. With my left hand I reach forward, fingers spreading in sync with guiding green lines, and loose a blast of flame at the still flattened beast. Just slightly seriously.

After a moment I terminate the flames, encouraged by the fact that the guidelines are already being consumed – no reason to level the city by accident. As the fire clears I can hear a few distant screams and shrieks, coming from the still retreating pack of small humans, couldn't they be just a bit grateful? After all the trouble I've gone to… Well, not that I blame them I suppose. The beast is quite horrific to behold.

The worm had retreated while trapped in the cone of fire, surviving by placing the vast bulk of its body in between me and its crystal heart. Why, I couldn't say, the heart is nigh indestructible – but the body was not. A blind head turns toward me, just the crystal heart surrounded by a thin layer of flesh – tiny “teeth” protruding from every inch of it. Behind the head the body has fared little better, reduced in size greatly, the whole worm is only maybe twenty feet long now and only as thick around as a man. The body terminates in a ragged nub of crushed flesh, the rest burned away. Seeing the spines – still over a meter long – that are still emerging from that body, is somewhat surreal.

As expected, when weighed against my might, a worm is quite lacking. Also as expected, the core of the thing will be the most difficult bit to destroy – the bit most shot through with corruption. And indeed the dramatically shortened body, little more than a collection of lumpy internals with a thin layer of meat atop them, is entirely entwined with angry red tendrils of corruption – starting from the crystal heart. So much so that its impossible to see where the corruption ends and the beast begins. Even on Artas with Pink, I saw few beasts so corrupted as this.

And it, undeterred by its reduction in size, is charging forward once more. Thin body waving and undulating to propel itself across the room, its flesh swelling as it comes – hyper extended by the spears pushing themselves free. No dramatic leaps, it comes low and fast, blasting out a final volley of spears to impede those that would try to stop it. And that list is dangerously short, I realize resignedly. Gorim is still incapacitated, laid out on the floor, forcing Sheryl to his side to conjure a barrier of ice to protect him.

The small humans – perhaps sensing their imminent death – have ceased their flight and are crowded behind the stick wielding human. He is an aged man of medium build. The remnants of powerful body betrayed by the advance of years, a bit rounder and softer than it might have been once, is visible beneath his ceremonial-looking white robes. There is desperate grimace etched onto his lined face, framed by his short sweat soaked gray hair, as he works some sort of magic – holding his stick in front of him like a shield. A dome of white light descends from on high, enclosing the man and his followers, but despite that the man shows no sign of relief. His face strained, braced for impact.

“Emily …?” I call the name, simultaneously hopeful and resigned to reality.

She does not respond. So I step forward, into the reckless charge of the Shad Grub, my right hand nearly finished – a dozen gaps created, my fingers tracing the Runes, perfecting the links. Out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of white light, as a barrier is shattered, and then a flash of black – before I have to put it out of my head, my full attention on the twenty feet of flesh and corruption bearing down on me. A thousand tiny “teeth” extended, poisonous corrupted drool being spat in my general direction, I wince and plunge my left hand forward.

The worm stops. Is stopped. Its forward momentum completely arrested as I catch it with my outstretched palm. A bit like putting my hand into an open flame, my mind reports detachedly, a horrid sense of discomfort sweeping over my whole body – radiating from my arm – as I place my palm flat against such a large source of corruption. Worse I can feel all those tiny “teeth” scrabbling futilely against my skin, attempting to find purchase, to break ground, before being repelled. Fortunate that I was correct in my assumption that this beast would be unable to penetrate my bodies innate defenses, my mana – that infuses every inch of my being – driving back the invader without apparent difficulty. But the smile is gone from my face, and it is all I can do not to shudder – the intense feeling of revulsion threatening to overpower me.

That I was forced to touch a worm… The world is truly a place in crisis.

As that thought crosses my mind, that acknowledgment of the realities of this situation, my hands spasm. The involuntary reflex causing me to almost lose the mostly formed spell in my right hand and causing my left hand to clench shut – crushing a great many “teeth” into nothing and continuing down. Applying massive pressure to the crystal heart just beneath the wretched beasts skin for a moment and then crushing through – driving four finger shaped holes into the monsters heart. In response pain lances up from my hand, the angry red tendrils of corruption questing out from the damaged heart, sliding up along my arm.

So I swipe my right hand through the air, my fingers leaving gashes in the air behind them, deftly opening a dozen holes – forging them together, forming a Gate. And in an instant the Gate expands at my side, until its easily large enough for a man to step through, an oval of inky blackness with no apparent width hovering an inch or two off the floor. That done I swing my left arm, dragging the worm with it, plunging arm and worm beyond the Gate. I can feel my wings flaring behind me, an instinct to take flight – to flee – rising in me at the direct exposure to the Beyond that makes up the fabric of my extradimensional storage. Behind me the body of the worm is thrashing wildly as it experiences that same exposure.

“One of you wretches needs to get over here now.” My voice booms forth, suppression forgotten in my agitation.

Because with my arm up to my shoulder beyond the Gate and red tendrils of corruption still trying to force their way back through, I don't dare attempt another spell. Magic that manipulates space and time is complex to an unreasonable degree and is made only more difficult by the assault of the corruption on my senses and sensibilities. If my concentration wavers and the Gate snaps shut while I am still half inside the damage would be serious, even for someone like me. Its possible I might lose something essential – my soul split in twain due to some God or other taking offense at my trespass on their domain or something equally fanciful – and find it nearly irrecoverable.

So when ice forms around the writhing body of the worm – no longer producing spears, perhaps too damaged to manage it – immobilizing it, I briefly feel a species of relief. Before that is immediately buried in an avalanche of annoyance – its the fault of these people and their general incompetence I was forced to touch a worm in the first place! Sheryl is in front of me, Gorim a step behind her – one of his large arms hanging limp at his side.

“What is that?” Sheryl asks, her eyes glued to the Gate.

“Not important.” I snarl. “Cut it off!” I jerk my head forward, indicating the body of the worm that disappears beyond the Gate, my composure slipping slightly because I can see those creeping red tendrils at the edges of the gate – as if the beast means to pull itself back.

The humans are reacting too slowly. Beneath the fingers of my left hand – disembodied as it is – I can feel something happening. Sheryl launches a blade of ice that cuts halfway into the worms body but fails to sever it, while Gorim just looks troubled, unsure. I am distantly aware that other humans and a certain worthless servant are gathering as well, gawking uselessly. Under my arm I feel an odd heat and I look to see the tendrils in the beast's body are glowing even more angrily, burning down like a pack of fuses, building toward an unknowable crescendo. Almost like the beginnings of a spell.

Then a blur of black slides beneath my arm, and the body of the worm collapses limply to the floor. The cut made I release my grip, slipping my hand back to our side of the Gate – feeling a last desperate grab from the tiny “teeth” of the monster that once again gains no purchase. As soon as my arm is through I release the magic and the Gate snaps shut, swallowing the head of the worm and the crystal heart within it without ceremony.