“[Infusion]!”

The light broke a hairline fracture. A wisp of white-hot essence shot out from it and into his waterskin. Everything went blank.

Micah stood on a walkway made of nothing, hovering in a space that was nowhere. It was dark around him, away from the ground. Or at least, it should have been. There was something behind him, he knew, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t even focus on the pinpricks of colors like stars around him. His eyes were drawn to the sea of red raging beyond all of that. And the something beyond that.

No. No, he looked away from the that.

The red surrounded him, a raging storm of arcing fire. Everywhere he looked, it was all he could see, as if all of existence had been consumed by that fire, all except for the small black sphere that was his domain. The only island in an ocean, the only respite for miles.

Micah fell to his knees, sweating. He could feel the heat radiating like a summer sun. He could almost imagine it getting hotter. How was he supposed to deny that?! But even as he stared at it with rising dread, the sea came no closer beyond a certain distance. A screen of light flashed up and held it back, almost like the one that had been meant to save the Kobold, the one that he had broken.

When it flashed again, Micah crawled forward to get a better look. Instead of red, this screen was blue. It had golden ridges running through it like geometrical shapes and patterns. It reminded him of glass essence, but it was more orderly, less complex, better structured. Would it keep him safe? The Kobold’s barrier had held until he—

No, came the answer as a section of the barrier cracked.

Micah recoiled as if someone had struck him, knowing now how that felt. He pressed his hands against his ears and cowered before the sound reverberating throughout his domain. It shook his walkway and agitated the sea of fire. It pushed back the stars. He screamed in a feeble attempt to down it out. When it let up, he scrambled to the edge of his thin walkway, to put as much distance between himself and that sea as possible, but he knew it was futile. If that barrier broke again, the sound would mutilate him. If it broke again, the fire would come washing in.

Already, wisps of it were intruding into his domain. He watched them travel the distance, disperse and disappear. More and more followed, forming arches like the thinnest of bubbles being blown before pushing themselves off. A larger flare managed to send a single mote of red light all the way to his walkway. It touched the surface and burned into it, like embers into wool.

Micah clutched his right arm, feeling a sudden pain. The place where the walkway had caught fire smoldered and smoked, but it quickly burned out. What remained was a charred spot of black.

The barrier cracked once more.

You have to act, he thought as he hugged his head with his arms to endure the sound. The light cannot keep this from you. Micah gulped when it was over and frowned at the thought. He wasn’t even sure why he had thought it. The barrier was the only safe thing here, but it couldn’t keep the fire at bay forever. Could he use that somehow? Could he work around the problem?

He saw his domain, but it wasn’t him. He could look down and see himself. His naked arms and legs. Trying to protect it all would be impossible, but ...

What if the light didn’t have to keep all of the fire at bay?

If only Micah could cross the distance. He had an idea, but no way of pulling through. There was a void between here and there and he had nothing to cross it with. Nothing except—

The barrier cracked again. Micah thought his ears would burst. How were they not bleeding? He looked up and froze in horror. A stream of red light burst from the breach and came rushing towards him. He was out of time.

Now or never, he thought.

Swim or drown.

Micah got up on trembling legs, and then his whole body was shaking. He was breathing faster now, faster than ever, mentally readying himself for what was to come. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to leave the walkway. He just wanted to go home. But then the moment was right and he had to. He ran the distance and dove.

[__ ___ Path discovered!]

[Skill - ____ __________ obtained!]

[Alchemist Level 5!]

[Skill - Kinetic Infusion obtained!]

Micah woke up, but he didn’t open his eyes. For a while, he just lay there on a hard surface, his body aching, his breathing thin, and tried to think of nothing. The sensation began at his feet, then. It traveled up along his legs and consumed him, the vertigo of elsewhere. When it reached the base of his spine, Micah felt the ground vanish underneath him and he lurched back awake.

No, he thought, heaving in fear, not back there. He swallowed, though his mouth was too dry, and forced himself to switch tunes. He would choose the lesser evil.

Micah woke up. He couldn’t believe it at first, he actually woke up! He was sure of it, because he could feel his toes wiggling in his boots, well boot, and the rough fabric of his tattered clothes scraping along his skin. Raw sensations, ones he would never think to think of in … that other place.

He opened his eyes and nothing changed. Only the movement of his eyelids told him he had opened them at all. He panicked for a moment, worried he had was blind, but then he began to see hints of patterns in the darkness. Whenever he spotted one they all vanished again, thrown to the corner of his vision. But they were there. Essence was there in the space around him and he could see, he would see, as soon as he had a source of light.

When he tried to get up, something heavy held him down. It was rough and immovable and pressed down on his torso as if he was trying to walk through a wall. Micah strained against it, but it hurt too much. As if the pain had invited them, all the other unwelcome pains of his body suddenly became apparent to him. He let himself fall back down and groaned. His whole body hurt. It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt before. He felt raw, like someone had scrubbed his skin for hours on end.

Potion, he thought. He needed a healing potion. He knew he still had half a bottle left in his bag, if only he could find it. He was so used to just reaching over his shoulder and taking it off, but when he tried to move his right arm up past his shoulder it wouldn’t fit. His arm wouldn’t fit.

For a moment, Micah felt the knowledge of that sink in. Then he panicked. He strained to push his arm through the space, but it wouldn’t go. With every moment after, his breathing became more and more ragged, and he more and more desperately tried to make it work, to squeeze it through. If he just pushed a little harder-

You will break it.

He had to stop. He pulled his arm back and pushed it close to himself, as if hugging a living being.

Shush, he told himself. Easy there. Let it go.

Once he settled down a bit, he tried moving his left arm. That one wouldn’t go anywhere. He could move it, but it would just budge against his side and then half an inch to the left. Barely enough to call movement at all.

The meaning was clear—Micah was trapped under the rubble.

He was in a pocket of space, it seemed though. He could breathe and move some. Did that mean if he moved too much, the rest of the stones would come falling down on him? It seemed like a real possibility. He had to play it safe.

His legs he could shift, so he did just that, feeling around for anything soft, anything his boots might get caught up in. He could feel gravel under his left toes, the boot the Salamander had tugged on. He was surprised there was anything left of it at all.

After what felt like an hour of searching, Micah still couldn’t find anything and gave up. He strained his head to maybe see something on his own, but the rock that was pressing into his stomach was too thick. His nose bumped into it and he knew it blocked his vision.

Great.

Frustrated, Micah let his head fall back down again and hit something hard beneath him. He took in a sharp breath. It was elevated and hard, but not rough. It wasn’t a stone. He wiggled his head around a bit just to be sure. Something tugged along with it. He pictured his leather flask trapped within his bag. It was right behind him after all!

Great!

But how was he going to reach it? Micah shifted his head and tugged at the cloth. He made a dragging motion towards his right side, hoping the bag itself wasn’t stuck under anything. It took forty tugs or so for Micah to surrender. His neck hurt and the cloth wasn’t going anywhere. He closed his eyes and breathed.

Eventually, he was surprised to find that he got bored. He was just lying there in the dark, trapped under a rock, alone with his thoughts. He had nothing else to do, so he started up again. Also … he didn’t want to fall asleep. He didn’t want to go back to that place.

So he tugged and tugged and actually felt the flask getting closer. His head sunk behind it, and then it touched his shoulder, the side of his arm. He was about to take a break when something shifted.

Then there was light. Brilliant, golden light.

It spilled into the darkness around him and revealed the space and stones. The crystal veins that had run through all the surfaces were still there, but they weren’t glowing on their own. Some of them picked up the light of his potion where their broken openings were in line with it. Others just bent the light around himself. None of them were red. In fact, there wasn't any fire essence around him at all. Micah almost let his head fall back in relief when he remembered what the light potion had been in.

Shit, he thought and shifted his head to the far left. He didn’t want to set it down into broken glass and dead fireflies. That was both hazardous and disgusting.

When his neck didn’t hurt anymore, Micha looked up again and considered his surroundings. He realized he had far more space than he’d thought. The rock pressing into his stomach was large, but it wasn’t actually resting on him. It just jutted over another rock to his left. It also left some space between where it ended and where the next rock to his right began. If Micah just … He wiggled his way over.

Before he squeezed himself up through that space, he pushed some of the loose rubble under where he had been a moment ago, along with one or two larger rocks. If the rock above him was leaning on him some, he hoped those would take up the weight in his stead. Then he steadied himself on his left arm and pushed his way up into a crouch.

He tried not to touch anything when he leaned over to snatch his glowing bag. What he pulled out was a tattered mess of cloth instead. It almost spilled its contents. Micah cursed and grabbed the other end, holding it together in a bundle. Then he awkwardly turned around and made his way to where his legs had had so much free space before. It was a small bubble of dark that he could crouch in. Sitting down was suddenly so very comfortable. Having his bag was so very reassuring. He happily looked inside.

The rest of his healing potion was still there, along with some broken shards of glass and lots of dead fireflies. Micah opened the flask in an instant and greedily gulped down the cool liquid. Even as he drunk, he knew it was probably a bad idea. Not just because it was a healing potion and you shouldn’t do that, but also because it was his only source of fluids and he might need more later. But he kept on drinking anyway, down to the last drop, and pulled the flask away with a happy sigh and then a small burp.

He’d been ravenous for water.

He screwed the flask shut again and put it back in what was left of his bag. Then he removed most of the tiny shards of glass and bugs lying around in it, setting them down on the huge stone that had been hovering above him. One larger shard and a smaller one he kept to himself, just in case. There were also bandages inside his bag, which he dusted off in case of glass dust, and his perfume, which he couldn’t drink. The rest was all gone. His sandwiches he’d thrown at the Salamanders, hoping to distract them. His dagger and both his waterskins he’d thrown at that Kobold. The empty flask of his other healing potion Micah had ...

Micah groaned and hugged his knees. Why. Was. He. So. Stupid? He emphasized each word with a smack of his head against his knees. Why did he have to keep on throwing his belongings at his enemies? Now there was nothing left, and he didn’t have a single crystal or alchemical ingredient to show for it.

Well … he had leveled up to level 5. He was secretly delighted at that, but how was he supposed to survive to make use of that? He smacked his head down a few more times for good measure. He wanted to make it out of here so he could experiment with … with … uh, what was it again? Micah closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as he tried to remember.

[Kinetic Infusion]! That was it. Just that one Skill. He frowned. What did "kinetic" mean?

If he was going to find out, he had to hurry. Without food or water he wouldn’t last long. And what about air? Would it even be filtered now that the cave had collapsed? Now that he thought about it, Micah thought his breathing was rather thin. He breathed a little quicker just in case, to make up for it. He also found himself staring down at his glowing bag and realized that the light wouldn’t last forever either, especially since the potion had spilled and was a cheap knock-off anyway. How long did he have? How long had he been out? Was somebody looking for him?

He didn’t know.

His bag lit up the way as he moved slowly, further into the dark space of the collapsed cavern surrounding him. The once-red veins that ran through all the stone surfaces reflected his light back at him, like the eyes of wild animals in the dark. There were half a dozen small rabbit holes in the rubble. Micah discovered them after a bit of searching. They led further into narrow tunnels, all of which could possibly lead to safety, or at least into an undamaged part of the Tower. He didn’t know which one to take. Even inspecting all of them only led to him dismissing two from the list. In one of them, there was a dead salamander. Or rather, half of a dead salamander. It was cut off by the waist and stunk so much Micah gagged. He covered his face and moved away from it, but couldn’t quite get the smell out of his mind. The other tunnel ended abruptly about an arm’s length away.

Actually, now that he thought about, the one with the dead Salamander might be viable after all. What if it led to the exit and he just didn’t take it because he was too squeamish about the smell? He sat in the middle of them all and chewed his cheek. If he had to, he would tear off a piece of his bag and soak it with perfume. In the meantime, he decided to just explore all the other tunnels until he found an exit.

What else was he supposed to do?

He found three dead ends after hours of carefully crawling through the tight spaces, deathly afraid of touching anything around himself. Every time he shifted a rock, he flinched and lay still. Every time he reached the end, he had to turn around again and start over.

After the third try, he spotted a piece of a broken slab in front of one of the unexplored tunnels and berated himself for not seeing it sooner. It was just a broken bit of stairs, but to him, it represented something much more, the same false message it had sent the first time Micah had seen them running by—hope. Micah took a deep breath and pushed himself into that tunnel.

If it led to stairs, it might lead to safety.

The rabbit hole ended abruptly though, just like the others. Unlike the others, this one had no ceiling. There was nothing at all. No matter how high Micah held up his glowing bag, there was only dark.

That’s good, right? He thought as he looked at the stretching darkness. He remembered how Garen had told him the Tower didn’t work like a normal building, how everything was interconnected with tunnels and silver portals. If that was the case, who was to say there was anything at all in between? What if he was staring into the hollow innards of the Tower, an endless dark?

It reminded him a bit of that void.

He stopped for a moment, frozen in thought. The dread passed and Micah started to climb, trying not to think at all. He chose the tallest, sturdiest looking rock he could find and pulled himself up to its ledge. There, he found the rest of the staircase swimming in a low red light below him. Instead of relief, the sight gave him pause. It was jarring on its own, seeing the beginnings of the staircase so far below. The drop was at least three times his height. Had the whole structure sunken down? But more unnerving than that was the light. Just the light.

It’s just essence, he told himself. It’s not the real thing. It’s not even enough to bring heat. You know that. You were in the salamander’s floor. It’s just like summer in there.

Still, he didn’t move.

It’s just essence, he told himself again. His eyes found an opening at the end of the stairs, at about equal height to where he sat.

The ocean was just essence, too, he answered to himself.

Micah turned around and jumped back down into the rabbit hole. He pushed his back against the tall stone blocking the staircase and closed his eyes, took deep breaths. There, in the darkness behind his eyelids, he stayed until he couldn’t hide from reason anymore and forced himself back up the rock. He let himself dangle down to shorten the fall as much as possible before he dropped. Still, it hurt.

A searing pain shot up through Micah’s leg when he dropped. He remembered the salamanders biting into him, the pain of their teeth in his flesh. It was like fire. Then he remembered the massive ball of teeth looming above him. He remembered that other fire burning into his—

When Micah woke back up, he found his dagger stuck in his left foot, right where the sole was missing, and he laughed. He must have jumped down onto the blade. How unlucky could he be? His bag had gone out, as well. It wasn’t glowing anymore and he didn’t have any healing potions left for his wound. He was truly out of resources now, except for his bandages.

He got those out and yanked out the blade. Then he quickly started bandaging his foot before it started bleeding too much. Afterward, he bandaged up his hands as well—climbing and crawling hurt—and some of the open places where his clothes had holes. He just wrapped the cloth twice around his body for that.

He still had about half of the roles left by the end of it all and was glad that he’d done at least one thing right. Micah hoped they would be enough for any other injuries he inflicted upon himself in his misfortune. He packed everything back up and began to limp his way up the stairs. Instead of a shard of glass, he now had his dagger in his hand.

Near the top, Micah remembered where the stairs led and hurried up his pace. The room he stepped into was in ruins. Half the left side was pure rubble, twice as tall as himself, that had spilled over to the right sight of the room. But that was good, right? He remembered the small chest he had spotted before. It had been in the far right corner.

He quickly limped over and started searching for it. It didn’t take him long this time to find it trapped under a large rock in the loose rubble, which was about the size of his upper body. Micah dug his right foot into the ground and heaved to shove the rock off. It landed with a satisfying thump. The rock next to it shifted, and then the rock on top of that one fell, and a large one tilted over and hit the far wall.

Micah followed the stones with his eyes as they fell until the last one smacked against the wall. A moment passed. He held his breath. It started slowly, but then the whole cavern shook. Immediately, he turned tail and ran back to the stairs. He tripped over his wounded foot halfway there and hit the ground hard, biting his tongue. Still, he pulled his arms up over his head and cowered beneath them. Small things rained down on his shoulders, dirt and pebbles. Micah flinched each time they did, fearing the next touch would be a boulder’s, come to crush him like a bug under a shoe. Luckily, that never happened. The quaking stopped and he looked back up, coughing. The air was so dry. His throat, too ...

His pants were wet.

Micha limped back to the chest, feeling ashamed, and looked inside. He found a large red crystal shining up at him from the start, about the size of his fist. A small ring made of smooth stone and a glass bottle filled with a glowing orange liquid were nested in a bundle of black velvet next to it.

Micah pulled the cloth out from under the items and checked it for anything more, checked the chest again, and looked for any hidden pockets. To him, it looked just like normal cloth though. There was nothing off about it, nothing for his [Essence Sight] to see. Was it just there to cushion?

He folded it together and stuffed it in his bag. Next, he pulled out the stone ring and held it up for inspection, but it didn’t seem special either. It didn’t even have a pattern. The longer he stared, actually, the … emptier it seemed. He didn’t know how to describe it. The shadows of the ring shifted whenever he turned it, they seemed to reach for his own silhouette. When Micah saw that, he quickly tossed the ring into his bag and the bag from his lap. It wasn’t that he was afraid of it. It was just … he was just being careful. He wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.

It’s not like I can eat it, he chuckled. Then he frowned and looked down. Can you eat velvet? He thought he’d learned at some point that you can eat boots if you cooked them right. His one boot wasn’t being very useful right now, might as well cook it if he had to, he thought.

Next, Micah pulled out the orange potion from the chest. When he held it up for inspection, he didn't see anything in it at all. But it was orange, close to yellow. It reminded him of the second healing potion he had ever made, that didn’t require blood. That wasn’t the only pattern inside the shifting fluid, but it sort of dominated the others? For him, that was enough. Micah quickly opened the bottle with a smile. He unbandaged his foot and spilled some over the wound.

Ahh, he mentally sighed in relief when it stopped hurting. His throat hurt too much to actually do it out loud. He leaned back in bliss. That’s much better. Micah closed the bottle again and carefully put it in his bag, thinking he had to save the rest for emergencies. Either that or to study it at home if he could. Already, he could feel the wound closing.

Now there was only the red crystal left inside of the chest. Micah reached for it and stopped, considering. He remembered his broken light potion and looked at the tattered remains of his bag. He mulled it over for a bit, shrugged and tossed the bag in the chest before slamming down the lid. That was that. Problem solved.

Then he continued his search for an exit.

Garen had told him that stairs always lead to another floor, an exit, or a treasure room. Sometimes they picked two. Sometimes all three. Micah already knew there was no exit around here, but maybe if he found another floor?

As carefully as possible, he climbed the rubble that dominated the left side of the room. As he progressed up the rocks, Micah actually found he was proud of himself. He didn’t think he’d ever put so much thought into something aside from his alchemy. He tested each rock before he stepped on it and mapped his way up to the top, being mindful of which rocks rested on which others and how they all connected. It took awhile for him to reach the top without incident, but he almost cried out in joy when he did. He’d found another set of sunken stairs!

Then he turned back and got the chest. The return trip was just as hard as the first, but the third one, carrying the chest back up, he did more confidently and he reached the top quickly. He hugged the chest, sat down and lept to the stairs below. His landing was a bit wobbly, but he came back up and steadied himself as he started his second ascent.

The stairs curved just like the other ones did, but they were longer. As Micah neared the bend, the red light of the crystal veins started to ebb. The space became darker. He got the large red crystal out of the chest to light his way. When he reached the top, he found a dead end.

He held the crystal up high and remembered the rabbit hole and the void stretching infinitely above him. This void didn’t feel the same though. It was just dark. Micah tossed the crystal up into the air and it illuminated a ceiling. More importantly, it illuminated a ledge.

He stepped back and tried to catch the crystal but missed. It hit the ground with a loud clink and he was worried he’d broken it, but there wasn’t even a scratch. Huh. He scratched his nose. Maybe it was more than just an oversized salamander drop?

Still, if he was going to climb up there he was going to need a better light source. He wouldn’t be able to carry it and climb at the same time. Maybe if he put it in his shirt pocket? Micah tried, but he felt a small lump at his chest already. Confused, he reached inside and pulled out a small wooden whistle. He stared at it for a moment, all else forgotten. If he had used this while he was running from the salamanders …

He put it to his lips and blew.

The shrill sound echoed throughout the cavern. It was unpleasant, but nothing near the sound of glass breaking. He kept blowing for a few seconds before he stopped and caught his breath. Were they even looking for people in this mess? He tried again, he didn’t know why, and then a third time. After waiting for a bit, Micah became impatient. Angry, even. Nothing was happening.

He looked up at the wall of stone above him, then back towards the way he’d come and the tiny whistle. He blew once more, just for good measure, and scowled. The way he saw it, he could either sit around and keep on trying, hoping someone would come save him, or he could climb.

He chose the latter. Micah took off his pants and put the chest atop of them. He used his belt to tie the pants around his waist and the pants’ legs to tie it around his shoulders. That way, the chest was firmly held against his back. When he got up, he hopped around a bit to test its durability. It was uncomfortable having that lump on his back, but it would work. So he untied it again and got out his bandages. He freshened up the ones around his hands and left foot, and added more around his knees.

Finally, he tied the large red crystal to his upper arm with some bandages, tested his weight, and starting climbing. The crystal’s light shone through the thin fabric. It lit the way through the darkness. Still, it was dark in the cave. It was hard to see where he was reaching next or even going, and Micah spent a lot of time second-guessing himself. The climb was exhausting, too, his breathing became ragged. The stone wall scraped in places he hadn’t thought to bandage, bloodying his already too pink skin …

Don’t think about that.

Halfway there, Micah seriously considered going back down, taking a break, and retrying after he’d drunk some of that high-grade healing potion. Surely it would be easier if he had that coursing through his veins? But when he looked back down and thought of climbing the distance again … He knew if he didn’t pull through now he wouldn’t try again.

He pushed through the pain until he pulled himself over the ledge. He didn’t even try to get up, just pulled his legs over and lay on his stomach, heaving. He’d cut his right hand on a sharp stone despite the bandages, and he was pretty sure the skin of his stomach was scraped off. All of the muscles in his body were burning. Micah didn’t think he would be able to lift a single finger anytime soon.

Easy, there, he whispered to himself. Easy, easy, easy. Just don’t think about it.

He lay there until he could breathe normally again and got used to the pain. Only then did he look up and see sunlight.