The mid-morning sun glitters off the last of the dew still clinging to the grass in the valley. The light bounces off and runs smack into the grim cobblestone of Coltis. Some enterprising architect had seemingly calculated the exact position for each successive floor to be in so that it casts the one below in perpetual gloom. It’s that kind of spite that makes it the most elementally miserable place in the empire. But even that doesn’t manage to completely deflate the good mood I’m in from being back home.

Sable rises up, magic crackling between his fingers dramatically, and glides over to the yawning hole in the wall. Rothmore’s eyes follow him suspiciously, then turn to me with an accusatory glare. From my position, face down on the grimy cobbles, I can only shrug apologetically.

I push myself up just in time to make the acquaintance of a finger, glowing an ominous shade of violet. I follow the hand past its wrist and up its arm to meet Sable’s face; stony, impassive and uncomfortably ambivalent. He keeps his spell aimed at my mortal coil for another self-indulgent second before breaking the silence.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, I wouldn’t have been able to return without your assistance,” he says, face still blank. “On the other hand, it was by your actions that I was sent to that backwater to begin with. Not a strong case for you keeping your life – not to mention how cathartic it would be.”

“I’d cry and make a fuss,” I say, sweaty fingers slipping as I try to snap a spell together. “It would be awkward for everyone – hardly satisfying.”

His mouth curves upwards. Less of a smile than a curtain dramatically unveiling bared teeth. The finger glows brighter, spitting lilac sparks that sting my cheek, then it pops and I flinch back. A lick of satisfaction crawls across his features and he backs away, turning towards the skyline.

“I fully expect to regret this decision. I have no doubts that you’ll manage to make a mess of everything – the irritant that you are. The paladin and his god will learn what it means to cross me. Know that you will regret following me.”

He steps to the hole, and with a brief flicker of magic at his feet, surges forward off the side. He hangs there for a moment, just before gravity notices him, then bursts through the air towards the horizon. Rothmore and I are left blinking in the dust and wind, alone in the cold prison cell.

How does he even know where to go? I stumble forward to the hole and find the answer for myself. Nestled between quilted farmland and a mossy forest – just about exactly where Sable had staged that botched ritual – a pillar of pockmarked reality is rising out of the hill. It splits concerningly into cracks through the sky, angry red and bruised purple lining the blue expanse and cutting through clouds. Just like the portal on Earth, the sky pulsates and splinters as reality scrambles to keep itself together – only this is on an unspeakably large scale.

I follow the bruise, mottled green and yellow flecking the white-hot crack in space as it crosses the sky. It traces across the horizon, clouds swerving to avoid it, and curves down to meet a quickly building storm above a city in the distance. I’ll admit that my geography has never been a focus, but even I can recognise the ostentatious spires and over abundance of cathedrals that bristle on the horizon. The Imperial City.

“Yeah, it’s been doing that all morning,” a voice pipes up from behind me. I whirl around to see a head of scraggly hair poking in from the next cell through the hole I’d made the other day. “Must have started a few hours after you left yesterday,” the embezzler says. “What’re you back here for anyway? I thought all the guards had already left.”

He ducks away as a firebolt flares against the bricks above him, and I go back to my stress spiral. How am I meant to get to the imperial capital? It’s at least a day’s ride, and that sky doesn’t look like it’ll last the hour.

Cloth scrapes against the stone in a way that manages to sound irritated and I remember Rothmore in the corner. He glares at me and opens his mouth, but I don’t let him finish.

“Rothmore, I need to get to the imperial city, and I need to do it before reality collapses.” It might be a touch hyperbolic, but what else am I meant to believe? The sky is broken. Rothmore snorts and turns away.

“And what do you think you’re going to be able to do? I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on with that,” he says while pointing at the absolute state of the horizon.

“I know what’s going on, I just need to interrupt the ritual that they’re performing over there, it’s-,”

He cuts me off with a harsh laugh.

“You think that’ll stop it? If it can be done now, there’s nothing stopping someone from doing it again. It’ll happen eventually.” He sneers. “And it looks like your cultist friend is going to stop the ritual regardless. Why do you need to go?”

“And give him free reign?” I snarl, then stop myself. “You don’t understand. This is all happening because everyone’s trying to steal the Mother’s power. We just need to destroy it, then no one can do this again.”

Rothmore glares at me and rises.

“And you think you can do that?” He asks, looming over me. “You have the absolute arrogance to think that you can change anything?”

I splutter defensively and grasp clumsily for a retort. Rothmore just keeps going.

“It’s the nature of these people to scrabble for power. Someone will always try to steal from the Gods. The sky has fallen before and it will again. We can’t do anything about it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with trying?” I shout, fists clenched against nothing and face hot.

Rothmore opens his mouth to say something dour and worthless, but I push on, trying to wrangle words like eels in butter.

“I read your bloody book and it was full of shit like, ‘sunder earth to fix your neighbour’s garden path. Transmute air to bake a cake. Use the infinite power of the bloody void to keep cool in summer!” I wave my arms in frustration. “Pretend that you’re flicking snot when you cast firebolt – that one actually helped me.”

“What of it?” Rothmore growls, but I cut him off.

“It wasn’t about becoming a battlemage, or a sorcerer or a bloody dark lord. It was how to be the guy who knew how to convince bees to make jam instead of honey, or keep the cold out in winter. That’s not how magic is used, but you didn’t care. Where the fuck did that guy go? Why am I stuck with you?”

“I just grew up,” he snarls defensively, stepping forward and pushing into me.

“So, you’ll sit in the corner, having a tantrum? Did the Imperials steal your blankie along with your book?”

A bolt of energy arcs from his clenched fist and into the floor, goring a glowing line of molten stone. For the first time in my life, my nervous system has the self-respect to not send my flinching away.

“Those bastards are going to kill my friends, end the world, then do it all again tomorrow. You hate them, you live here, why won’t you help me?” I shout.

A beat passes and his jaw locks tight. I stare into his eyes and behind all the indignant anger and furious embarrassment, there’s a shiny core of cold fear. It’s the exact same thing he sees blaring in mine.

I turn away with a growl and step up to the cell door and peer through the bars – the corridor’s empty. There might be horses down below, they couldn’t have taken them all. How long it’ll take to get to the capital, and how difficult it is to ride a horse are thoughts that I try to push aside. Instead, I bend the bars out of the way and step through.

A sound like a mountain chewing with its mouth open rumbles behind me and I’m yanked backwards into the cell. Rothmore mutters a few words and the rest of the broken wall sloughs off and starts crawling towards me. I stumble back, but the mass of stone pounces and wraps around me.

“Those’ll get you to the capital – that’s all I’ll do,” Rothmore says, just as the mass quivers and sprouts enormous stone wings from my back. Slate feathers clink together as they flap experimentally and I rise an inch off the ground.

A grateful smile worms its way onto my face, even if he doesn’t deserve it, and he scowls at me.

“Save it for when – if – you manage to do anything.” He swings an arm out and the wings flap harder. I totter under their weight towards the yawning abyss and wave my arms around as the wings drag me forward. Rothmore watches from the corner. A disastrous cocktail of anger, guilt, fear and whatever else swirling behind his eyes. Just as my foot misses the floor and steps through empty air, I notice a glimmer of something else. If I was more pretentious, I’d call it hope. But there’s something there that wants me to succeed.

“Good luck,” he mutters, and I shoot out of the cell with a sharp crack of stone.

The next time I dare open my eyes, the countryside is a blur and I’m a million miles in the sky. My scream is left in the dust as it muddles through life at the measly speed of sound. The ever-present roar around me is less noise, than the wind physically ripping at my skin and tearing into any nook and cranny it can find.

Through squinted eyes and tears I watch the forests blur and mountains run as the world becomes a murky green mess. What could otherwise be a wonderous moment goes just about the same as my last stint hurtling through the air, and I give screaming another go.

I kick and flap my arms against the empty air. It’s mostly automatic, and we start to rock as my subconscious attempts to make us as un-aerodynamic as possible. A gust of wind buffets us about and a stone wing interrupts its next flap to reach down and slap my arms away.

The wings flap like a rockslide and manage to find just a little more speed. We pass through a cloud and there’s barely enough time to register disappointment that they don’t actually feel like pillows before my angle dips a terrifying degree.

As if gravity has had enough of my shit, the wings slam together and my trajectory lurches ninety degrees. I peel my eyes open just in time to see what might have been a church steeple flash by as the wings spin me around, dodging between gargoyles and ostentatious rooftops. The ground fills my vision and I scream once more, splaying my hands forward and praying that the same trick is going to work twice.

The wings flare out and our velocity evaporates as my ribs creak in their harness. A groan of metal sounds in front of me and I crack my eyes open just in time to see a lamppost collapse as its base suddenly softens to honey.

The slate feathers bristle, as if vexed by my lack of faith, and disintegrate into a pile of moody sand. I drop to the ground and vomit into the gutter.

Stooping up, wiping my mouth and trying to remember why I came here, I look around, expecting to meet the disapproving gazes of the imperial metropolitan. Instead, the street is empty, save for overturned market carts and trampled produce. A few street corners have caught fire in that way civilisation tends to do if left unattended, but otherwise I’m alone.

I take a bread roll from a market stall and move down the street. The hurried patter of footsteps sounds down the aisle of houses and I shrink behind someone’s doorway to watch as a man races down the street, screaming his head off. A moment later, a ball of twitching dog ears lurches its way after him.

For the first time since I’d gotten here, I look up at the way I’d come in and see the entire sky above the imperial city overcome by the dimensional bruising. Seeping cracks litter the skyline and reach right into the streets, buzzing with interdimensional ozone, and springing portal leaks throughout the city. Another demon scuttles its way through the market place and I start running towards the palace.

Bodies lie crumpled against the walls as I round the next corner. One of their stomach’s ripples and dilates as something unmentionable scurries through intestinal tunnels. I spray citrus around me and continue on.

At the next street intersection, the skyline finally clears of elaborate verandas and I can see the gold-plated towers of the imperial palace. I pass a group of imperial knights as they fight what looks like a pair of tree-sized disembodied cow legs. The knights seem to be having difficulties damaging the thing, and the legs don’t look like they can see what they’re doing. Regardless, I race by and throw a firebolt at one of them as they make a vague attempt to stop me.

The palace steps are a complete mess. The bodies of humans, demons and the complete spectrum in between are smeared onto the steps, trampled by what looks like the entire merchant class trying to push their way through the front entrance. A pack of beleaguered knights alternate between calming platitudes and sharp prods with their swords as they push back against the tide of panicked citizenry.

The front was obviously never going to work, but I’d long ago made peace with never being able to go in the front way of anything. Luckily, even in the midst of a complete dimensional breakdown, the panicking nobles have given the side entrance a wide berth. The small iron door probably wasn’t built with it in mind, but even I can feel the aura of danger on a base, instinctual level. It leads to the dungeons.

I snap my fingers and drive my shoulder into the door. Predictably, I mistime it and jar my arm just before the lock dribbles away. The door swings open and I immediately run head first into the breastplate of a surprised looking knight.

There’s the initial shock of walking into someone, where the instinct to apologise rears up no matter how much fighting is going on outside. Then his face shifts and a second look of surprise unfolds. One where you’re fairly sure that the person in front of you had died the day before.

The shadows behind him bristle with swords and the door swings shut behind me. Without bothering to pretend like I could beat them in a fight, I channel Evelyn and give her hold on our group’s ‘worst actor’ award a run for its money.

“Sir knight, they’re everywhere! You’ve got to help-”

“How in Her name did you get out of Coltis? What are you doing here?” The knight interjects.

“Huh?” Whatever. “Move or I’ll smite you,” I shout and snap my fingers alight.

The knight raises his hands in surrender and a disarming smile wobbles onto his face. He makes a few motions to the soldiers behind him and their swords lower a fraction of a degree. In the light, and with his voice, I finally recognise him as the knight captain who’d brought us to Coltis.

“Look,” he starts with his stupid smile. “Just turn around and we can pretend like we never saw each other.”

“Counter proposal,” I say, waving my flame in front of him. “Same thing, but you turn around. Actually, where are you guys keeping the others? And where the fuck is Reynard?”

“Reynard? Sir Reynard? What do you want with him?” He asks with a pinched expression; curious but wishing he wasn’t.

“You might have noticed the situation outside,” I answer, pointing the flame towards the knights at the back. Always cast a wide net with your intimidation attempts, it might work on someone. “That prick is behind it all.”

“Look, I’m sure the higherups have everything under control. They’ll have my head if I let you in anyway.”

My finger almost goes out as I snap back to him in confusion.

“Aren’t you a captain or something?” The big feather on his helmet brushes the ceiling in a stiff salute. “How much more higherup can you get?”

“Major, actually,” he mutters in embarrassment, as if he hadn’t yet reconciled himself with the misfortune. “Edwards died in the last raid.”

“Then, shouldn’t you be doing something about this?” I ask after a pause. I don’t know why I bother, but this guy has always seemed pretty loose on the loyalty to the crown. His eyes immediately shift away from me and he looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“Kid, just leave and we’ll forget this. We’re going to go out there and help bring everything to order. If Sir Reynard is doing all this, then there’s nothing else to be done.” He takes a slow step forward, bending away from the flame with tired eyes. “We just have to do the best we can.”

A moment on the banks of some backwater village’s pond comes back to me. Emmet’s frustration with the Mother, the empress, the empire. How to do good – to be good – when you’re part of it all. This is why I don’t go for moral philosophy. It seems this guy doesn’t like to think about it either.

“It’s really not enough to just do less bad,” I say, words stumbling over each other. The major recoils from me and takes a step back. “You can’t just sit by and let this bullshit happen.” Now would be a good time to remember what convinced Rothmore. “Now let me the fuck through, I have a ritual to ruin.”

Silence follows and the Major’s expression shifts from anger, to embarrassment, to settling on looking lost. Then he steps to the side and motions his soldier to follow. After the clanking of steel subsides and they sidle to the walls, I slowly step through into the dungeon corridor, flame flaring up at the helmeted faces around me.

“Your friends are down the corridor, to the left,” the major says after a pause. “Sir Reynard is in the throne room. Go up any of the stairs, they all empty out into the main corridor.”

I glare at him; sad, old eyes stare back. I nod, then test my luck and slide a sword out of the belt of one of the knights. He makes to grab at me, but the Major shakes his head slowly. I take a few more steps backwards, sword dragging awkwardly along the floor, then book it down the left corridor.

Miserable prison cells line the corridor as I rush through. Still warm bowls of soup and personal belongings sit on tables next to upturned chairs. The guards left in a hurry, but the prisoners are still here to watch me run by with ambivalent gazes.

As I pass by the next set of miserable prisoners, I stumble to a halt and back up. Those are my miserable prisoners.

Emmet looks up as I come into view. Evelyn studiously ignores me, and only breaks the act when the lock softens to butter and pools to the floor.

“Oh my god, Lulu!” She shouts, almost takes my nose off as she shoves the door forward, and wraps her arms around me. “We thought you’d died. Why are you wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt?”

I roll my eyes and Emmet joins in a moment later. “Lucien, I thought we’d lost you,” he says thickly and presses me around the ribs. I try not to let the resulting grunt of pain ruin the moment, but he starts pulsing healing magic into me regardless.

“Gods, I’m going to miss that,” I mumble as it stops hurting to breath. Emmet pulls back, looking confused. “Oh yeah, lots to tell.” I peer over their heads. “Hang on, where’s Abbey?”

“They took her a few hours ago,” Evelyn says. The ceiling rumbles and I notice a purple crack in the air worming its way through the brickwork in the corner. A drop of effervescent sludge dribbles through the fault in reality and scurries down the corridor. Evelyn shudders and glares at me. “What the hell is happening?”

“Reynard’s trying to complete Sable’s ritual,” I say. Emmet gasps with what sounds like equal parts surprise and disappointment.

“The Mother?” He asks and I nod.

“Either that or he’s trying to shatter the dimension completely – but I don’t think he’s that kind of crazy.”

Emmet looks horrified, knuckles turning white as he squeezes them at his sides.

“Why though? How could they – No, they’ve always been like this.” He looks between us. “He’ll destroy everything, won’t he?” He gives me a hard look and steadies himself confrontationally. “We can’t sit by and let this happen. We need to stop him. I’m going even if you don’t.”

It is immensely satisfying to press the sword in Evelyn’s hands, grab Emmet by the shirt and push him down the corridor.

“Shove it. Not a lot of places to run anyway if the dimension explodes.”

Evelyn punches me in the shoulder with a grin and pushes me after him. I scowl back at her, but pause as the grin wobbles at the edges. The same feeling sits inside me, growing deeper with every step we take towards the madman summoning a god. I reach out, hover a hand over hers, and try for sincerity, as much as my face fights against it.

“Do you, er, need a sit down?” I ask. It takes a second to register, but she chuckles, sniffs her nose, grabs my hand and squeezes.

“Maybe once we do this,” she says and moves forward. “It’s all a little much, yeah?” I can only nod and follow after them.

The next alcove opens into a set of stairs and we hurry up. Just as the Major said, it opens onto the red carpeted main hall of the palace. Why there’s a direct line from the throne to the dungeon, I’ll never know.

The sounds of reality breaking down are louder now, and we can hear swords and armour clashing in the distance. The air fizzles with a coppery tang and the light from outside filters through ornate windows with a purple tint.

We pause on the threshold, sinking a solid inch into the carpet as we glance down the enormous halls. The old reliable method of looking for the most elaborate door falls apart when everything is gold-plated. Instead, I follow the bodies of palace guards strewn across the floor.

Evelyn and Emmet look away as we pass, then look away harder as I roll one of the bodies over and poke at their wounds.

“Jesus christ, Lucien,” Evelyn mutters as I stoop up and keep moving down the hall.

“Sword wounds – I think,” I say, without much in the way of academic backing. The wounds look clean – I’d like to see that fingernail demon from the ferry do anything cleanly. “Good money’s on Reynard being down here.”

I feel awfully clever until we reach an enormous set of solid marble doors. We pause, listen to the crackle of lightning and pandemonium inside, and the three of us shove our weight behind opening them. Geologic time passes as the door mulls over letting us in, but eventually, a crack appears and we push through.

The room from the vision spreads out in an enormous circle, a domed roof high above, and art pieces covering every last scrap of exposed tile. The floor is covered in Sable’s summoning array, every rune painstakingly etched into a now-ruined mosaic that had dominated the floor. The air in the centre of the room bulges and tremors as magic pulls at reality, and we seem to have walked in on a pitched battle.

Reynard, sword glowing dangerously, stands by the nascent portal as Sable shoots magic bolts at him from the opposite side of the room. A dozen robed figures kneel at the edges of the array, alternating between prayer and flinching at the arcane lightning shooting overhead.

I ignore all of it and search the floor for something suitably critical. As luck would have it, there’s a beefy looking stabilisation rune at my foot. I snap my fingers and shoot it with as much vitriol as I can muster. Then the firebolt bounces off and shoots past my ear.

Evelyn, quick on the update as ever, steps forward and swings her sword down on rune. It also bounces off and sends her stumbling back, the rune still active and unscathed.

“Stupid bullshit magic floor,” She hisses, and I have to agree.

Reynard parries a bolt of lightning aside, and Sable glances at us. Evelyn grits her teeth and steps towards him, but I stop her. He’s at least our side adjacent – I think. The bolt of lightning he shoots at me looks almost like it missed intentionally, but maybe I’ve just lost it.

“Ah, Sepulchrum, yes, come join us,” Reynard shouts, a manic timbre creeping into his voice. “This hall is already sullied by degenerate filth, why not pile on more as we await Her arrival?” He swats another bolt out of the air, then shoots his own out of his sword. Sable blocks it with a shield and the duel continues. “Pray harder worms!” He shouts at the kneeling priests. “Soon I will finally feel Her voice. The divine clarity is upon us!”

Emmet rushes off to the side, hands trailing magic, and I see Abbey slumped against the wall. At the same time, the portal throbs and colour starts bursting inside it. Evelyn sucks in a breath, swears, then charges Reynard. His eyes flash dangerously, and I throw a firebolt, leaving Abbey to Emmet.

Their swords come together as if magnetised and then again and again as Reynard’s mad fervour smashes against Evelyn’s unconscious flailing. My firebolt streaks through the air and bursts harmlessly as Reynard bats it out of the air with his gauntlet. I snarl in frustration and try again even as Evelyn is pushed back.

“Do something!” I shout at Sable as I run at Reynard. He sneers, but redoubles his efforts, scarring the air with sickly energy. With three different attacks converging on him, Reynard falters for a moment, and it looks like we’ve got him. Then my blood pulses and the portal peels open.

A pale arm traces the portal, tickling the ragged flap of reality and snaking out, as if tasting the air. It extends, a hair longer than an arm should be, and reaches for Reynard. A dozen arms follow, some as sinuous as the first, others with sharper, jerky movements. They overlap and flow into one another until a single arm is left. It seems to glow, but it’s really just the ghostly impression of a thousand sets of arms writhing together.

The world goes silent save for the unbearable thump of my heart as my blood slows to syrup in my veins. The air burns acidic and my lungs can only shudder in my chest. An elbow finally clears the portal and a shoulder snakes out close behind. The Mother steps into the material world as a giant, her form scratching at my eyes and her face swirling with a thousand satisfied smiles.

“Magnificent,” she sighs, the words like splintered nails and warm honey. “I have been waiting far too long.” She steps forward and the air shatters beneath her feet. It grows mottled and bruised as she passes and flinches as she runs a finger along reality. “Ah, the material plane, my birthright.”

Reynard stands paralysed before her, his face twisted in rapture, eyes wide and empty like a child. His chest clenches and words gurgle half formed in his throat. The Mother smiles indulgently and strokes through his hair.

“My child, you have performed exceptionally. Head and shoulders beyond your peers.” Even through the pounding of my blood and half-lidded eyes, I feel the insult as a hundred eyes look upon me in scorn. How a god can be this petty, I’ll never know.

She brushes a lock of hair away, then grasps Reynard by the throat. His eyes roll back and his skin turns ashen as The Mother pulls a soft glowing energy from his body. Her form shivers and seems to grow more substantial, weighing on the world and imprinting itself on the space around it. Reynard falls to the floor, limbs twisted beneath him and breath rattling in his throat. All the while, that energy seeps into the Mother.

Through a dull haze, my thoughts wander lost through my mind until recognition slowly floats to the surface. The light in the room grows dim as she only grows brighter, siphoning Reynard’s life force as the ritual nears completion.

With a groan, Evelyn takes a shuddering step forward and swings her sword at the god. A hand bursts from the Mother’s cloak and catches her by the throat. I try to summon magic with numb fingers and manage a flicker of flame before another arm surges forward and lifts me into the air.

“Even now you attempt to get in my way?” Her voice rattles through me and I kick and claw limply against her hold. “To think, you had simply only to die, yet you couldn’t even by trusted with that.” Another set of arms snake out and grasp Emmet and Abbey, drawing them in. “Such insolence. You hardly deserve to witness my genesis, but I can be gracious in my victory.”

Reynard gasps, eyes sunken and flesh a ghostly pallor. The light coming off his body slows to a trickle and the Mother’s eyes glisten with a boundless hunger.

“Moments away,” she says softly. “A scant few beats of the heart.”

Reynard gurgles on the floor as I struggle above him. I can’t begin to understand the extent of this ritual. I doubt even Sable can. But as I watch the Mother’s eyes gaze hungrily at each shuddered breath leaving Reynard’s chest, I feel certain that the ritual ends when he does. We just need him to not be dead.

Magic flickers at my fingers and I throw a firebolt wildly towards the Mother. She doesn’t even blink as it dissipates harmlessly against her, but her gaze snaps to me nonetheless.

“You dare?” My bones ache as her words rock through me. “On the cusp of my victory, you still refuse to know your place?”

Shockingly, I can’t think of anything suitably inflammatory to say. Her eyes grow to fill my vision and the breath stills in my lungs. I almost sag back, I almost apologise, but at the very end, I channel every last scrap of my galling personality and spit on her arm. In reality, I manage to cough and dribble determinedly, but it does the job.

With a scream that shakes the palace, she slams me into the ground. The floor – still enchanted to protect the ritual – does nothing to soften the blow and my ribs creak painfully. The hand at my throat turns to iron and begins to crush me into the tiles. I wheeze, eyes bulging and hands grasping for purchase.

Then my hand finds Reynard’s cold armour and clammy skin. Magic crackles along my arm, leaving black wisps in curling in the air. My fingers go cold and black smoke forces its way into his body. His veins blacken, his eyes cloud over. His chest stills, but his heart beats just one more time.

With everything that I have, I force necromantic magic into his body. His skin grows waxy as black energy rushes through him. His limbs curl inwards, his blood grows thick and his heart stops – but he doesn’t die.

Like a newborn, his eyes crack open, milky irises glowing a dull yellow, and his link to the Mother snaps. A single mote of light shivers in the air, just before it enters the god, then flickers and sink back into Reynard’s body.

The portal buckles and turns an inky black. The floor cracks and shatters as the runes flicker and die. The Mother gasps and whatever was to follow is consumed as a viscous wind rips at her, drawing everything into the gaping void as the portal begins to tear reality apart. Her face distorts into a thousand shades of hatred before she passes the threshold and is torn from our reality.

A beat passes in blissful silence before her limbs snap taught and drag us through after her.

I wake up face down on a rough stone floor. For a moment I lie there and accept that if anything happens in the next twelve seconds, I’m just going to die. Then Evelyn drags me up and starts waving a hand in front of my eyes.

“Lucien, are you okay? What happened?” She asks as Emmet and Abbey hover over me. I look blearily over their shoulders and glance over the corridor we’ve ended up in. Rough stone walls, whitewashed and austere. Where are we?

“I think it was like with Sable’s ritual. Getting your life force sucked out is a necessary component. It falls apart if you stop the summoner from dying.” I glance around and don’t find that prick anywhere. Lucky bastard must still be in the palace.

“You healed him?” Emmet asks with deserved confusion.

“No,” I say, letting black wisps play around my fingers. “I just made sure he’s not technically dead.”

The reality of actually managing to do that begins to set in and happiness starts bubbling up inside. Then a roar echoes down the corridor, shattering my one moment of positivity.

Darkness pools and the wall explodes as a thousand hands tear the building apart as they drag a thousand bodies towards us. Without a moment’s hesitation, we stumble up and run down the corridor.

“Where the hell are we?” Abbey shouts as The Mother scurries after us. Unadorned doors line the corridor and little square windows, cut into the walls, line the walls. I come up empty, but Emmet glances around with a glimmer of recognition.

“Orphanage!” He shouts breathlessly. “It’s like the one my church had back in Weld.”

We turn a corner and dive through a door, slamming it shut behind us for all the good that’ll do. The real question is why are we here. As far as I understand it, we went through the portal that the Mother came from. But then why an orphanage?

We run on, passing doors with little nameplates as the monster crashes around behind us. Then I pass a door and screech to a halt, pieces clicking into place as I read the nameplate. Reynard.

“In here,” I shout and the others push through without a second thought.

Inside is a tiny room, just big enough for a bed and a reading desk. A small blonde boy looks up as we pile in and watches us with big curious eyes.

“Who are you?” He asks in a squeaky voice.

“Shut up Reynard,” I say and turn to the others. Evelyn glances at the kid in confusion, the pieces slowly coming together in her head.

“Are we in Reynard’s head?” She asks. The world has the same feeling as when we were in mine. A strange sense of unreality, the details warped by memory. “Didn’t we go through the portal though? How are we here?”

Stone shatters somewhere in the distance as the Mother searches for us.

“The Mother resides in our hearts,” Emmet mutters as he cringes away from the door. Another piece clicks into place and I pace the room. “She was connected to Reynard. Is that why we’re here?”

“Then how do we get out?” Abbey asks.

The crashing of stone draws closer and panic begins to grip my chest.

“We need to find the vessel,” I say, searching the room in vain. “If we destroy that then she’s powerless.” This is where the Mother came from, the vessel should be here somewhere. It doesn’t make any real sense for it to be in this room, but it feels right somehow. “Kid, where’s the vessel. Big glowing thing – probably.”

Child-Reynard just shakes his head and moves away from the door, eyes wide with fear. The door thumps as and the room shakes as the Mother pounds at it from outside. The others jump away and begin searching the room – it’s really the only thing left we can do.

Think. This is all in Reynard’s head. The vessel is meant to be the Mother. The real power behind her. If I was Reynard, where would I put it? Where would I put something that valuable?

The room shakes and the kid climbs under his desk, tears in his eyes. It’s not Reynard we’re dealing with though, is it? He’s a corpse with half a teaspoon of memories left. Where would this Reynard hide the vessel?

As the door splinters, I slowly get to my knees and look under the bed. Sure enough, tucked between the frame and the mattress, there’s a raggedy wooden doll with long hair and a big smile. Reynard whimpers as I pry it loose and stand up.

The doll looks completely ordinary, but thrums dangerously against my skin. The Mother roars and claws the door to pieces. A thousand hands stretch towards me and I throw the stupid thing at the wall. It hits the stone with a crack that pierces through the cacophony and shatters like glass.

The Mother shrieks in agony and begins to fall apart, dozens of bodies disintegrating at a time until nothing but a shade remains. Even that drifts away with one last venomous scowl and there’s silence. Then the room flakes away until we’re left floating in a black void.

“That was the vessel?” Evelyn asks as she floats listlessly in front of me. “She’s gone?” I nod in response, not quite having it in me to say anything yet.

There’s something glowing next to me and I drift slowly towards it. Motes of light flake off it and disappear into the blackness and it grows dimmer with each passing moment. I reach out without thinking and it grabs onto my hand like a lump of honey.

The seashell necklace stirs and I immediately extend my arm to keep them apart. I’m pretty sure this is the remains of the Mother’s powers. I’m not doing this again just because a fish gets uppity. The necklace rolls its eyes and seems as if to nod towards the others; a meaningful waggle of its fishy eyebrows.

Ah, right. Infinite power of a god.

“You guys ready to go back?” I ask, awkwardly spinning in the void to turn towards them. They nod, then realise what I mean. I wave my glowing hand and the blackness melts like butter, leaving behind a shimmering doorway, a busy street on the other side.

Evelyn gasps as the noise drifts through the portal and we all move towards it. Abbey tears her gaze away from it and back to us. Her tired eyes soften and she kicks closer to us with an aptitude that I could never match.

“It alright if I go first?” She asks. Evelyn drifts forward uncertainly and swallows her in a hug. Abbey slaps her on the back and struggles out of it, then drifts over to Emmet and I. “I won’t say it’s been fun, but thanks for getting me home.” She pulls me in and pats me on the back then pushes off towards the portal. We wave and she disappears in a burst of light.

“Well, this is it?” Evelyn says after a moment has passed. We float in the void as metal carriages go by through the portal. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, and wraps her arms around me. I squirm but she just knees me in the thigh and squeezes. After a moment, I squeeze back and we hang there for a moment.

“You remember the first time we met the Mother?” She asks after a pause. I tactfully ignore the wateriness of her voice, mostly because mine would sound the same. “I said I’d mention you guys in therapy?” I nod into her shoulder. “Only good things. I’ll really miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I croak and cough as we pull away. “See you around, yeah?”

She grins and hugs Emmet. His face is wet with tears and he drifts over to me as we watch Evelyn float towards the portal. She turns one last time, gives us a little wave, and vanishes in a flash. The portal winks shut and Emmet and I are left floating in the void.

“Well, we should get back,” I say, wiping my nose. Emmet nods and sniffs a little. I raise my hand, leftover power still clinging on, and stop. Sable said he summoned more people, didn’t he? How do I do this?

“Um, can everybody go back to their own dimensions?” I ask the blob. “Please?” It wobbles and spreads over my fingers like a slug. I shrug, try my best to will everyone home, and snap my fingers.

There’s a crack, a moment of falling, and we appear on the ruined floor of the throne room. I glance up at the sky through one of the enormous windows and see the scarred sky sealing back up, leaving behind only thin purple lines through the clouds. The air where the Mother appeared looks battered, but loses its bruises. Looks like reality is going to be fine.

Sable groans from his position prone on the ground. I wander up and stand over him. He cracks his eyes open, sees me, and groans again.

“It’s over then?” He asks.

“Yep.”

“The vessel?”

“Destroyed.”

He lets his arms flop to the floor and settles into the shattered marble. I glance over at Emmet as he shuts Reynard’s eyelids and wanders over.

“You’re not going to take revenge?” I ask as he stares at the ceiling. His glance tells me how much he would like to, but he just snorts.

“With the vessel gone, the Mother’s church is as weak as any other – if not weaker. Why would I spare you a thought when we are on the cusp of such chaos? The opportunities are endless; just waiting to be grasped.” He makes no move to get up and just lies there, staring up at the ceiling. I kneel down, pat him on the shoulder, and leave him to sort himself out.

Emmet joins me as I shove the door aside and peek out into the hall. We wander out after seeing that the guards are still scattered around the city and walk through the halls of the imperial palace.

“Any plans?” I ask as we step over the body of a particularly confusing looking demon. Emmet blinks, as if this is the first time in months that he’d considered the question. Which sounds about right.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he chuckles. I sigh and keep walking, still without a real direction. The only thing I can think of is checking to see if Coltis does visitations. I have something to rub in that old bastard’s face. Other than that, I don’t know.

We walk through the front entrance, wander down the palace steps and into the city. Nobody is trying to lock us up. There aren’t any gods who want us dead. It’s the little things in life.

“Want to go help at a soup kitchen or something?” I ask and Emmet pantomimes shock.

I punch him in the shoulder and he laughs.

The End

I shoulder the door open and lay my coffee down at my desk. My computer blinks on as I jostle the mouse and the next job application stares mockingly at me. I close the lid, not really interested in being passionate or having a can-do attitude right now.

“Evelyn!” Mum calls from downstairs. “Are you back?” She’s been hovering since I’d gotten back, but I guess that’s what going missing for a few months gets you.

“Yep!” I call. “Uni finished early!”

I take a sip of my coffee and watch my wobbly reflection in the sword I’d mounted on the wall. A melancholy bubbles up a little in my stomach and I have another sip of coffee. Even though I was sleeping on straw, and being locked in prison, and almost dying all the time, part of me still misses it.

Mostly not though. Mostly just the guys. I sigh and wander over to my desk. There’s probably something productive I can do. I helped kill a god, I can do Uni work.

The air sizzles behind me and I jerk around just in time to see the space above my bed warp. There’s a flash, then a cat in a harness pops into existence and lands on my doona. I get up slowly and it blinks at me in ruffled confusion.

The harness is covered in glowing gems and squiggly runes. Everything pulsing faintly and smells of ozone. The cat licks my hand, then sits up at attention. On its chest is a leaf of paper, black writing looping swirling around on the page until I try to read it.

“Hey Evelyn, or whoever gets this.” It starts and my chest clenches. “We’ve been working with Rothmore – he helped me with the Old Mythic. All’s going well over here, hope it’s okay on your side. I’ve been, and it was dreadful.”

“The cat’s meant to be alive. Could you tick the box if it looks like it got through okay?” Below there’s a box with a cat’s head drawn messily beside it, and another with a skull.

“Hopefully we’ll see you soon. See you around. Signed Lucien and Emmet.”

I laugh and stroke the cat as it gives me a funny look. I fish out a pen and carefully tick the box for ‘alive’. Then, with very bad handwriting, and probably getting everything wrong, I write, ‘see you soon’ below it in their stupid alphabet.

When my pen leaves the paper, the crystals glow, something crackles, and the cat disappears in a flash.

I sit back with a grin and watch the air settle back to normal. My email blinks as a professor dumps another load of work into my inbox, and I sigh. It still doesn’t get me down. I’ll see them again. And maybe I’ll even get to show them what real food is like.

Somewhere in another world, the cat reappears and Lucien spends the next few minutes after celebrating, trying to read that message.