Despite all the time both of us spent mastering our respective fields, we couldn’t even begin to tackle the leviathan that was small talk.

The curse of science and complete social ineptitude. A horrifying causation that not even I could escape.

Was it the lack of mutual ground that kept the barrier of silence well and alive, the pure and distilled essence of having no idea what you’re talking to? Or perhaps it was because I already knew Lyra after eavesdropping on nearly her entire life story. I had the parts that would never come up in a conversation catalogued and filed away in my head; I was a keeper of the darkest secrets and an all-observing monster that was unfathomable in any way, a creature that had dwelt within the abyss for so long that I had become something less than human, but also something more.

Or, realistically speaking, I accidentally developed an antisocial personality disorder.

So we sat there, fidgeting the time away. Lyra’s fever had gone away with the trickle of Ether, leaving her plenty of time to munch through the remainder of her rations. When she felt better, she reached out and summoned the emerald claymore, gazing at it with a certain expression of chagrin.

She raised it. Then, running a hand across the mirrored surface, she asked, “How much did you see? Be honest.”

I wasn’t like Knight. I couldn’t lie my way out of an egg, so I didn’t.

If I desired anything, I wanted my first conversation to be honest.

...Everything.

“Ah. I see.” Lyra pushed up her glasses, her cheeks reddening three shades. “Yeah, I don’t even know what to say about that.”

You don’t have to say anything.

“I guess… guess I’m just feeling some complicated things right now. Gods, I’m such an idiot.”

Get it all out of your system. I won’t judge.

“What are you,” she muttered, “a therapist?”

If you want me to be.

Knowing what she had been through, no amount of therapy would have helped. The least I could do was lend an ear. Personally, I would’ve killed for somebody to talk to when I was trapped in the space underneath this facility.

Knight wasn’t waiting outside the safehouse, having gone for a walk along with his smoke. Lyra cleared out some space to practice with her new armament, giving it a few practice swings. Her form was surprisingly good; she was using centrifugal force rather than raw strength to strike.

“My mind feels clear when I’m holding this,” she said, dancing with the oversized blade. “The blade feels like it’s wielding itself and I’m just along for the ride. Would you believe me if I said I never even threw a punch before?”

A spin shielded with a swing, a river crashing against rocks.

“I thought things would just get better by itself if I just kept smiling. Wishing. Hoping.”

Twirling the handle of the blade, a whirlpool in the ocean.

“The world isn’t fair. I was afraid to make waves, terrified of doing anything for myself. So I deluded myself with fiction. I was so scared — and honestly, I still am. Just being here is terrifying.”

Downward smashes, the fury of a waterfall.

“All these mistakes, these empty hopes I clung onto… they’re all mine. I can’t escape them; as long as I live, these weights are on my shoulders, always pushing me down.”

Bracing for a parry. Half-swording to get in close. A thrust to pierce, rapid slashes following.

“But I’m here on my own two feet. If I could make it here, then I could keep going as far as my heart will take me. Whatever comes, I’ll face head on. Even if it isn’t what I want.”

Lyra slammed her claymore into the ground and stepped back. As soon as she let go, the blade began to dissolve into fragments of green light.

“I can’t believe I only realized that now.” She looked excited and nervous, staring at her own hands like she couldn’t believe she just performed that miraculous show of martial prowess. “I… can’t believe I actually said all that out loud. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? I’m cringing right now.” She covered her face. “Damn it.”

You did well. Not everybody could muster the same kind of resolve you did after a terrible life like yours. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.

“Compliments only make me feel worse,” she said, shaking the emotions away. “But I appreciate it. I really do. Thanks for helping me out.”

Learn how to take one. Keep this up and you’ll be receiving plenty more in the future from those around you.

“We’ll have to break out of here, first.” Lyra pumped her first and shouted, hyping herself up. “This is it. This is it! Let’s smash the doors down and show the world who we really are!”

Don’t get too excited. There’s at least one fight ahead of us.

But Lyra ignored me, cheering and dancing — until Knight came back to catch her in the act.

“Well howdy. Whatever you’re on,” he said with a smirk, directly opposing Lyra’s best impression of a turtle desperately attempting to blush itself back into its shell, “I want some.”

Carrying all that Lyra had stored up, we left a couple hours later to traverse the rest of the dungeon. We already had the alleged keys that would help us escape, so the rest was making it to the door.

Between Lyra’s pathfinding and newfound battle prowess combined with my ability to heal and enhance mobility, we made short work of whatever lingering shadows crept in the warped halls of this place. The distorted monsters that had once caused me to completely shut down mentally were taken out with a few swipes from Lyra or a barrage of punches from Knight.

“We’re getting close!” Knight declared as we cut through a small horde, fighting up a pair of stairs. He was covering our rear, delivering firm kicks and haymakers and letting gravity do the rest.

Another one of those headless armors came running down the stairs at us, bowling over the shadows between. Knight shot it in the leg with a snapping shot from his blaster and it came tumbling down, straight into a bisecting slash from Lyra.

“We make a pretty good team!” Lyra shouted.

“You ain’t half bad yourself,” Knight replied. “Though, I could probably take these guys on my own.”

Don’t listen to him, I pitched in. When I found him, he was torn up and nearly dead.

“Your drone says you nearly died down here.”

“That’s because I fought the boss of this place on my own. As I said, a bad matchup.” He snuck a look over his shoulder. “What, are you doubting my abilities?”

“Of course not! I’m just the mediator, here!”

I mean, I haven’t seen Knight actually fight seriously. I don’t know how powerful he really is.

“Your drone is, though!”

Only a little.

“A little, she says!”

“When we get out of here,” Knight said, “I’m going to order a factory reset if she doesn’t take that back.”

“She does!” Lyra said without my prompt. “She’s very sorry!”

“Hah! That little rascal certainly has a mouth.”

It was nice not having to fight alone. We were powerful enough to even have a conversation while brawling; I finally felt like I wasn’t on my own anymore.

Even if it was foolish to trust people I just met, it really did feel like I could rely on these two.

After clearing up any stragglers, Lyra guided us down the last twists and turns this place had to offer.

“Here,” she said. “The maps I made end here — though I never got this far myself.”

We reached grand doors charred black from an ancient fire, closed tight by a corset of lianas that formed a flower-shaped seal in the center. They needed no further prompting; Lyra and Knight retrieved their medallions and held them out. The seal shook and withered, peeling back to reveal handles.

“Don’t let your guard down,” he said as waited for the seal to fall away entirely. “I tumbled directly in and out of the final chamber — I don’t know what’s coming.”

With each of them taking a door, they pushed slowly and entered the next level of this Ruin.

Lyra was the first to stop in her tracks. She lowered her blade, slack-jawed at the scene before her. Knight also lowered his gun, saying, “Nevermind. Can’t say this is what I was expecting, either.”

Wood and brick buildings with red-tiled roofs. The sounds of busy chatter and melodies played on mandolas. Open blue skies filled with low, silky clouds.

We were in a town old of old, yet none of the people were real. Shadows walked the streets, dressed in the clothes of medieval commoners and merchants alike, going about their daily business without paying us much mind.

There were no longer any more doors behind us, only a sprawling road filled with carts pulled by shadowy imitations of horses. And most notably, there was a silver tower in the center of the town whose peak was obscured by the clouds above.

“Don’t be mistaken,” Knight said, pulling Lyra out of the way of an oncoming carriage. “We’re still in the middle of a Ruin. This one’s had a bit of time to… develop. They grow more powerful with time.”

An unwanted memory resurfaced: the sight of a red tree in the dark, the bloom of the broken Ether reactor.

Five or three hundred years, this place had more than enough time to grow.

The people driving the carriage barked out some incomprehensible insult at Lyra, telling her to probably do something that would better not be said with a horse. She looked around, taking in the sights and sounds.

Even I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or not. As far as I could tell, everything before us was real and outlined in Ether; the shadow people’s composition perfectly matched the cannibalistic shades I first encountered in the caverns far below our feet. They even had disfigured faces buried under their fabricated outfits, yet here they were, playing roles from a forgotten era.

“They aren’t attacking us,” Lyra said, holstering her blade on her back. “What’s going on? Can your drone scan the area?”

I already did. It’s real, as far as I can tell.

“It’s real, says your drone. What the hell…?”

“I can assure you that humanity is well and alive and not replaced with a race of sentient shadows,” Knight said. “This is just how some Ruins are. C’mon, we might have a chance to escape without fighting.”

We tried leaving the town, following the dirt road until we hit a long patch of sheds and grassy plains. We kept walking until we entered some semblance of a countryside, nothing but farms and empty fields for miles.

Even out here, the tower still loomed over us, as big as it was when we were in the town around it.

Knight stopped Lyra with a firm hand on the shoulder and said, “Don’t go any further. I don’t think anything’s beyond here.”

Lyra didn’t seem discouraged. “Maybe if we go for a little longer, there will be a portal... or something.”

“And what if there isn’t?”

I strained my senses, scouting as far as my abilities allowed. Without anything to impede me, I saw more countryside stretching out in every direction.

There was an entire world here, it seemed.

I can’t see anything that looks like a way out of here.

“Then…”

“I’m no stranger to these Ruins,” Knight said. “There’s a wall out there. When you run into it, your body might get shredded without a fight.” He pointed at the tower in the distance, calm as can be. “That’s our only way out.”

Lyra faced the tower, somewhat hesitant to move. “I… I’m getting an ominous feeling about that place.” She grimaced. “Feels like there’s something waiting for me up there.”

“That’s because there is. One whole Husk that looks and acts like a princess.”

She took a deep breath, blowing air out of her nose. For some reason, despite the warm temperature, she shivered in her glowing armor.

“Something the matter?” Knight asked, glancing at her.

“I’m feeling a bit anxious, that’s all.”

Lyra stood still, hand resting on the hilt of her blade. Then she reached back and touched my stony surface with her other hand, slowly calming down. “You’re right, both of you. I can’t run anymore.”

She immediately set off towards the town again, which inflicted some confusion upon Knight himself. He looked at me for some explanation.

WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE THIS MAY HAVE CAUSED AND APPRECIATE YOUR UNDERSTANDING, I said with a pulled string, not quite getting it myself.

Our journey took us to the base of the tower, where a crowd of cheering onlookers watched us enter a grand entrance hall of red carpets and golden chandeliers with crystal blue lights. A thousand years of false history were inscribed on stained glass windows; sunlight filtered to an admiring staff of individuals wearing scintillating silken suits and dresses.

A banquet for shadows.

“Thank ye for your service!” called out a shadowed gentleman tipping a blue hat. “This year’s harvest will be brilliant!”

“We’ll never forget you!” cried a shadow in a slim-fitting peach dress. “My heroes! Save her!”

One by one, featureless faces turned to us; some offered toasts of dust, while others clapped polite applause. A few burst into rowdy celebration, cupping their mouths and screaming their applause.

“Ignore them,” Knight said. “Concentrate on what’s ahead.”

In the center of the grand chamber waited a circular platform hoisted by pristine white ropes.

We crossed the floor. Lyra rang a handheld silver bell waiting on a pedestal, silencing the crowds. Soon, a disembodied, cheerful announcer spoke over the dead air, making an announcement to the crowds:

“One hundred fifty-fifty souls have failed to liberate the Princess’s heart. Those in attendance, send Him, Knight 156 and Her, Knight 157, and It, Knight 158, your warmest wishes and blessings of love! Anybody can be a hero!”

The white ropes pulled the platform upwards towards a blindingly white hole in the ceiling. A voice poured from it, a mournful yet hopeful wail of a maiden; her song ground against the heart and played its strings. Knight’s lizard teeth were grinding into their gums behind his mask — he was forcing himself through pain to stay in control.

This was wrong. Even at this distance, the song of the ‘Princess’ chafed against my melody; she was causing my wind to manifest, invading my mind with alien ideas.

Heroes exist to save the damsels in distress. How could it be any other way? A knight in shining armor rides to save the day. If a hero doesn’t save those in need, can he really be called a hero? If he isn’t a hero, then he would be a villain.

If anybody isn’t willing to save the princess, a villain is all that remains.

In this world, the only path for a villain would be to end themselves.

A cold touch from Lyra helped me keep my sanity. She seemed relatively unaffected; her emerald blade and armor seemingly shielded her from any ill-effects.

“Don’t let others tell you what you can and can’t do,” she whispered, smiling as we approached the light. “The fire in your heart is yours alone.”

...Thanks.

“A hundred and fifty-five came before us,” Knight said. He swallowed his blood and flicked the fire selector on his gun. “That’s a lot of corpses.”

The platform brought us to an elongated chapel, church pews laid out in endless rows before us. Our backs were to an altar, where a disembodied priest preached to the crowds.

“Today, a special trial awaits those who wish for the Princess’s heart—”

Knight blew a hole through his chest, causing him to fall.

“—Knight 156, 157 and 158 will face those who came before! For how could they surpass the challenges ahead if they cannot overcome those who came before?”

Killing the narrator didn’t stop his grating voice. Soon, shadows resembling humans of all shapes and sizes emerged from the gaps within the pews. They wielded swords, shields, and scythes, revolvers, rifles and bows alike; the Princess’s song intensified, causing eyes to erupt all over the spectre’s bodies.

All of them focused on us.

“Seems like I’ll have to take this a bit seriously,” Knight muttered. He focused for a moment — and golden flames covered his forearms and feet, burning along the emerald glow of Lyra’s armaments.

The half-formed spectres of 155 mercenaries and soldiers charged towards us, rushing towards like black acid rain. I readied my own tricks, painting a target over every monster coming to claim our heads

It was time to slay a Princess.