Bayler Shrike felt cool relief as he shifted into the lizard’s form, his new skin armored with a thin web of wet, glistening mucus. The flames poured across his back without harm. All around him, violent cracking noises sounded out as the trees came apart, releasing their payloads of blue floating spore into the fire-scarred night.

Bayler simply rested, breathing in slowly, satisfied to still be alive. His wounds stayed with him when he transformed, and they were dire. Much of his muscle had been cooked through, his lungs perforated by the scalding air, his throat full of blood. Seconds longer and his blood would have boiled, taking his heart and brain with it. That would have been the end. He was blind, his eyes reduced to jelly.

His new reptilian tongue flickered out, tasting the air. The lizard’s sense of smell was sharp, allowing him to taste individual threads of scent in the air, marking the passage of creatures; he could sense that much even through the overwhelming musk of woodsmoke and blazing oil that made the air cloying and pungent.

There was a thread of scent that smelled like lilac and ginger, that gave him the same hopeful, uplifted feeling that seeing the stag had inspired.

Groaning, Bayler shifted the immense, unwieldy bulk of his new body, moving on sore limbs through the blazing forest. All around him, tree limbs broke and fell flaming to the ground, and fire raced along the pathways prescribed by the rivers of oil, flaring up in writhing snakes of flame.

Now and then an alien creature would emerge from the blazing forest, bolting along in panic. Other reptiles waddled serenely in the confusion and uproar, feasting on the roasted pulp of ticks and other oversized insects who’d been caught up in the fires.

As he walked, the fires dimmed. There was a kind of buzzing in the air; an invisible barrier of energy he passed through. The flames clinging to him went out at once. The forest within the boundary was dark and still. The white stag was close.

Even blind he could feel its presence. The absolute peace it inspired. He moved towards it, even though he could taste another living creature nearby, a sour, moldering scent. His world was blinded but even in darkness he could sense so many things.

It made human senses seem almost laughable.

Even so, he was caught off guard when a voice spoke.

“Why don’t you take your real form, and let me see you.” The sheer command it carried was threatening. He almost followed the order without thinking, pushed by some invisible force to obey.

“Oh, you can resist? Well, now I really want to speak with you. Or kill you. Your choice.” The voice was ancient, croaking, bird-like.

In the end, Bayler couldn’t fight in this state. It was a lousy decision he had no choice but to make. He shifted into his human form, losing his last advantage, his keen sense of smell, and surrendering to total blindness.

“There we are. My, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you were undead. The Blessing of the Mortal, maybe?”

Bayler said nothing, but his body language - the slight tense of his shoulders - must have confirmed the other man’s guess. Which meant his enemy likely knew how to kill him know.

“Yes. A Mortal, and appearing so soon after this world’s fall. Impressive. Don’t make me kill you, or your world really will lose a champion.”

“And how would I make you kill me?” Bayler finally spoke, having to force each word painfully up his scalded throat.

“Ah, you can’t see, can you? I am fused to this forest. I have grown into the trees, given my body to become part of the beauty that is nature. If I hadn’t put up the barrier, you would have already killed me. I suppose you could kill me now, if you were willing to settle for mutual destruction, but I could quite easily end your life before I burned…”

Bayler almost laughed. This one liked to talk. “What is it you want?”

“A piece of your world. Not for my species - you humans can still have the place - but for me, my forests. I wish to spread and grow. To reclaim this dead city of concrete for life while life lasts. And in exchange, I will let you go where the white stag is taking you.”

“And where would that be.” Bayler asked.

“To the Lacuna. A rip in space and time, leading to a memory so powerful it creates its own space, its own time. A memory that demands it be relived, over and over. A memory the people running this game are deeply curious about. They will reward you, richly, if you can enter the Lacuna and return.” The voice explained, although it didn’t help Bayler much.

“A different space? Like another world?”

“Yes, very much like that. Or to be specific, a memory of a world that no longer exists. Just think of it as a dream- one where you can die, where you can see the past, where you can gain understanding of the history of our world.”

“That’s not much like a dream.” Bayler noted.

“No, I suppose not. A Lacuna is a Lacuna. You will understand when you enter. But first you must make me a promise.”

Bayler wanted to say go to hell. The words stuck in his throat. He felt a searing pain come from the tattoo on his forearm, a burning reminder of the Mortal’s words. Refuse death. Even if it meant dealing with the devil, he couldn’t say no.

“Fine. You’ve got me.” He growled out.

Something landed in the dirt in front of him. Running his hands over the ground, he found a knife, carved out of what felt like bone. “Pick it up and cut yourself over your Epitaph. While the blood still runs, promise to watch over this forest and protect it from harm.”

He made the cut as instructed, blood dripping in threads and ribbons down his forearm as he held up his hand. “I swear I’ll keep your forest safe. Scout’s honor.”

But in case it made any difference, he kept his fingers crossed behind his back.

“Then we may part ways peacefully.”

A wet nose nuzzled against his face, the pain evaporating as it rubbed against the vicious burns that covered his skin. The stag. Bayler reached up, touching its muzzle, and felt its muscles move as it turned, leading him away. With one hand on its back he followed.

There was a light ahead. He felt it on his skin, along with the brush of dense, cool mists. Gravity seemed to be tugging him in the wrong direction, forward instead of down, a stomach-turning change. Although he was blind, he could sense the presence of the Lacuna, feel rippling waves of force roll through the air around it.

The stag came to a halt. Letting go, Bayler took the last few steps alone, blind, arms outstretched. He stepped through, into the Lacuna.