“What is this place?” I asked.

I floated through an infinite grey void on an island of iridescent glass. The island was a perfectly circular disk perhaps a dozen meters wide. In the distance, I could see a hexagonal column crackling with lighting. Atop the pillar sat a man hid within the folds of a billowing black cloak.

“I thought you might not recognize it. Kind of empty, don’t you think?” The laughter was like a peal of thunder, intense and foreboding.

“This is your mind, or at least the part of it you kindly made my home. We bargain for knowledge, what better place to impart it?”

“Name your price, Demon,” I said. “I’m tired of games.”

“Price? Demon?” the voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I think not. Does the angler bargain with the worm? No, he guides his bait upon the hook and like the hand of fate casts out his line beneath the frigid waves.”

“I’m no fish to take your bait,” I said. “What is it you’re hoping to catch?”

“An enemy, old and new,” the creature said. “At the heart of that which binds you, dead my quarry waits … dreaming. His visions unfold, twisted and stolen by the fleas that walk upon his pallid flesh.” His voice took on an acerbic quality dripping with rage.

“No more,” it said. “Three questions asked, thrice answered a boon of words I seek. Three words whispered at my call, three answers now I’ll speak.”

“I’ll play,” I said. “You give me my answers, and in return you want me to say three words? That’s it?”

It felt wrong, too easy, and yet I couldn’t imagine how just speaking three words could be dangerous. There wasn’t even anything keeping me from prefacing the words or adding an explanation after.

“An accord, then? Freely given?’

“We have a deal,” I said.

The creatures cloak fell back away from his face revealing a skeletal smile upon a bleached skull.

“Then ask and be done.”

“For now, I just need you to guide me through the best way for me to create a class with my current resources. It needs offense and survivability and should preferably combine Reactive Adaptability with my ability to manipulate eldritch energy.”

“Best? No … No. I can lay no guarantees, your mind still lost might be. But to be your guide, that I can do. A catalyst you require, a vessel to carry your intent. Three drops of blood and freedom I petition.”

“What kind of freedom? I’m not setting you loose to kill or infect others. I’ve already committed to shedding my own blood, but I don’t want the blood of others on my hands. If I’m to set you free, I’ll require promises.”

I stood up straighter trying to confront the creature. The wind began to pick up, twirling around me. I could feel a force pressing down upon my shoulders, trying to bend not only my body but my resolve. The air became colder as the pressure increased again. Then again. Still, I refused to bend.

“You have your answer, creature!”

I let out a gasp as the pressure lessened, not even realizing I had been holding my breath. The creature looked from its perch with empty eyes and a permanent, skeletal grin. Its cloak pressed tight against empty bone as it rose and fluttered, stretching far behind the creature likes Death’s battle standard.

“The catalyst requires blood, I can give you naught without. My freedom is a simple matter, I desire to be set upon the world, but we are bound. Let my eyes follow your path and my talons strike your foes. Your allies need not fear my wrath, for I shall temper my nature in friendly garb.”

“Fine,” I said. “You can have your freedom, but I will banish you right back to this void if you so much as give me an inkling you might harm anyone I don’t tell you to.”

“A mercenary life, then? It shall be as you say,” the creature fell to its knee as if pledging service to a king, “I shall heed your call and spare your allies.”

“Then we have a deal.”

As I said the final words a knife appeared in my hand. I slowly drew it across my palm, holding in a wince. I flung my palm out, casting drops of blood at the creature.

“Take my blood then and fulfill your part of the bargain.”

“Gladly.”

***

The sun was beginning to come up. It painted the world in more natural light, drowning out the unnerving blues and purples that had lit the night. I stood outside the gates of New Charleston waiting for the others to arrive. Catayla and Pat had been waiting since long before I arrived, and Tiller had arrived with Rachel Pickman only a short time later.

It wasn’t long before a group of three guards walked out from the gate, led by Worthy the Witcher Wannabe. His red mohawk was now combed down over one side of his head, leaving the other side bare. The two guards following him wore a combination of scavenged tactical gear, sports equipment, and leather padding. I recognized one of the guards from the bridge, a blonde Amazonian woman wearing football pads with a club nearly as tall as she was strapped to her back with a looped hemp rope.

“How ya doing, Sam,” I said.

“It’s Worthy, motherfucker. And don’t forget it.”

He had the casual arrogance and posture that seemed to say ‘hey, look at me’ as if he believed everyone was here just to worship him. I suspected that many, those like him, were secretly glad for the apocalypse, as it allowed them to get away with bullying and pushing their physical superiority onto others.

Some might not like such attitudes, but I understood that sometimes that is the exact kind of guy you need in a rough situation – if you can keep him pointed in the right direction. Shouldn’t be hard with literal monsters trying to tear us apart.

“Alright, Worthy,” I said. “What’s the plan? You in charge?”

“Of you, damn straight. Right now, we listen to Boss Lady over there.” Worthy craned his head slightly to the side to indicate where Pat was standing.

Pat had walked forward as I spoke with Worthy. The crowd naturally formed into a half circle splayed out before her. She was wearing an eggshell-white pantsuit with a thin black tie. Her hair had been done up into a bun with a pair of chopsticks. Her posture and gentle voice gave her an air of quiet competence.

“That should be everyone, yes?” said Pat. “Catayla will lead this mission, you are all on loan to her — do you understand?”

A low murmur of assent rose up from all of us before she continued. I noticed a few cold glances cast towards Catayla. Worthy, in particular, did not seem happy.

“Good, your immediate task will be to break the siege at the Ravenel Bridge and secure a path of retreat for the guards currently stationed there. Once you have successfully held the bridge, Catayla will lead you on a scouting mission to make contact with whatever remains of her people, the Peacekeepers. Any questions?”

“Are we you still planning on blowing the bridge behind us?” Asked Tiller. “Without it, we may not have a way to retreat.”

“It has become untenable, Captain made the call. We can’t hold the bridge any longer. You’ll have to find your own way back. If you find the Peacekeepers, our hope is that they will be able to assist your return. If not? Get creative.”

“And the people here?” Said Rachel Pickman. “Aren’t those monsters going to come straight here once the bridge is lost?”

“Perhaps, but it will slow them down and we are much better equipped to deal with a siege here. Our walls will hold. You do your jobs and we will do ours.”

She gave us each a careful gaze making sure to make eye contact. Her eyes were green and strangely intense. She seemed to be looking at something more, something beyond what just her eyes could see.

“Now, no more arguments. Sun is already up, and you know what you have to do.”

We lined up, with Worthy’s group taking the lead while Catayla disappearing to scout ahead. Tiller, Rachel, and I grouped together and hung back slightly from Worthy and his group. Better to let the meat shields go first.

We walked for about fifteen minutes without anyone speaking. The terrain changing effects prevalent further east were starting to take hold here as well. We climbed up a road that had once slopped downward. The pavement was splintered and broken with weeds and small trees beginning to grow between the cracks.

As we crested the hill Rachel stopped to catch her breath and pulled out a clear blue water bottle. “Anyone need any of this?”

“Brought our own, thanks,” said Tiller reaching for his own canteen.

“So,” said Rachel. “What’s up with the bird? Some kind of familiar? You a witch, Finn?”

The bird perched on my shoulder screeched and regarded the girl with pitch black eyes. Its feathers were blue-grey with a white band around its neck and a striped tail. Tufts of dark plumage crowned its head.

“It’s a belted kingfisher,” said Tiller. “Bigger than most, but the crest and the band around its neck are unmistakable. Notice the white belly, with no chestnut coloring? That and the higher crest means it’s a male.”

Tiller kept on like this for the next minute or two while Rachel and I shared a look. Sighing, I set my hand on Tiller’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Look, man, I knew you were a nerd. But birdwatching?”

Tiller looked slightly embarrassed but quickly straightened himself. I met Rachel’s gaze as a throaty laugh escaped her control. It soon joined in. Tiller just ignored us and kept walking.

“My gram was a birder, took me along sometimes. Besides, There’s nothing wrong with ornithology. It is a rich and respected field.”

“Alright, nerd,” said Rachel. “You never let him answer my question. This your familiar?” She reached out to poke the bird with her index finger.

I caught her hand, holding it in my own. “I wouldn’t touch him. He’s much more dangerous than he looks.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Can I get my hand back now?” She lifted one eyebrow but made no move to pull away.

“Sorry,” I whispered as I dropped her hand. “Just don’t provoke it okay? It’s not really my familiar, but I guess that is a close enough analogy.”

“Well, he’s cute,” said Rachel. “He got a name?”

“A few, but don’t get him started. He’ll go all day.”

Rachel and Tiller gave me a confused look before Worthy called for us to keep moving. It wasn’t long before we reached the top of another hill, and the bridge came into sight.