1

Brett slowly opened his eyes and was greeted with the same sight he had seen for almost two straight days. Compete darkness. He had been blinded by the glitch at the top of the tower. At least his voice had come back. Not that it was going to do him any good. He had been buried alive in what he was certain was one of the tower’s “mud” rooms. Aside from the rooms that were inhabited by monsters, most of the tower’s rooms were filled with earth. He wasn’t sure if he was in one of the thirteen basement levels or in one of the many floors above ground.

He did know that he was in a room close to the ground because he had heard the wolves visit him. They had howled for hours outside the brick walls. The sound was muffled, but Brett knew it was them. The wolves weren’t able to help him. He was being punished by the Wendigo, and didn’t know if his sentence was permanent.

My death sentence, he thought.

He inhaled and more soil slipped into his mouth. With every breath he took, that dirt would travel down his throat and into his lungs. He was sure that they were lined with the black earth by now. He felt a pain in his chest every time he took a breath. And now, he could feel phlegm building up in his lungs.

That was probably from the cold temperature of the soil. It had been freezing from the very moment Brett was pounded into his prison. He assumed that the earth kept the night chill even throughout the day. He had shivered helplessly against the muck from the outset.

Although it had been almost forty-eight hours since the Wendigo had imprisoned him, Brett had no way of knowing that. He had no sense of the passage of time. If he could see, he was sure that there would not even be a glimpse of sunlight. The earth was so compacted. It pushed against his body like a cold, wet shroud.

He had sustained himself by casting Basic Heal continually, but he had already lost a considerable amount of weight. He wondered if the Wendigo had sent him through some sort of time shift—possibly using the powers of the time realm—and if he was the man he had seen trapped through the tower wall days before. If he wasn’t, it looked like Brett had suffered the same fate as that other man. He remembered wondering how that buried man was still alive.

Now, buried in his earthly prison, Brett noticed that a pocket of dead air lay just above his belly. He took a deep breath to extend his stomach, trying to discern how much weight he had lost. Instead, he got a throat full of dirt. He coughed against the grit that pressed up against his face. Some of the soil dislodged and ran down the sides of his head.

He had thought about just letting himself die. Without the healing spells, he would start losing hit points. The confinement and lack of oxygen were taking their toll on his body. He expected that his condition would continue to worsen until he dropped even more HP. He could easily allow himself to wither away.

But he couldn’t do it.

After all this time, Brett realized that he was still a coward. And he hated himself for it. Tears flowed from his orange eyes and trailed down into his ears.

Am I really that much of a coward? he thought. He shook his head, and dirt sifted into his ears. No. There’s more to it than that. The Wendigo had promised Brett a future in his new kingdom. A place where he could finally achieve his greater self. The people who’d once rejected him would become his servants. He wanted that desperately. He wanted to make those fuckers pay. All those fuckers who had overlooked him in life and saw him as a bit-player when Brett knew that he was more.

But the Wendigo had punished him and abandoned him. Had the beast also deceived him? It was possible, he supposed. But Brett had believed it when the Wendigo told him that he had a higher purpose. A grand destiny. As he shivered against the frigid soil, Brett clung to the promises the beast from the glitch had made to him.

2

He awoke sometime later, having fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. As he opened his eyes, he sensed that something had changed. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but then he saw the slightly different tones in the dark soil.

It can’t be, he thought. His orange eyes moved frantically as he searched for even the slightest source of light, but there wasn’t any to be found, just barely perceptible gradations of black. Grit landed on his eyeballs and slid under his eyelids. Brett squinted autonomically, and his eyes watered as his body attempted to expel the foreign objects. Eventually his eyes cleared, and he was able to stare at the black earth that surrounded him.

Suddenly, a small worm wiggled into his ear. Brett recoiled, desperately pressing against the soil, but he couldn’t move his arms more than a fraction of an inch. He shrieked as the insect—is it a maggot!?—burrowed deeper into his ear canal.

Fuck! I can’t take this anymore! he thought frantically. He pushed against the earth. A sharp pain exploded in his chest. The broken clavicle he’d suffered from his plummet off the tower had just begun to reform. Now it snapped like a twig. Fuck! He settled back against the dirt, feeling miserable. The regaining of his sight had brought him such relief, but in the end, it didn’t change his reality. He was banished, possibly forever. The promise of his new life was snatched away from him. And even though it had been prophesied, the promise of his life with Emma was gone, too. It seemed impossible now. The worm found its resting spot deep inside his ear, attracted to the moisture of his tears and his body heat. Brett closed his eyes and finally turned the healing spells off, hoping that death would come soon.

3

Brett’s consciousness wavered in a dreamlike state. He remained that way as his HP ticked down like grains of sand in an hourglass. As a former nurse, he would have readily identified his condition. He had seen it many times. When a patient’s body was ravaged by pain or disease, their mind would often retreat into delirium. Brett had always recognized that as the body’s ultimate act of self-care. And he’d wondered what that would feel like. Was it like being on some kind of powerful drug?

Now he knew.

Although Brett had never experimented with drugs, he was vaguely sure that what he was feeling was similar to a trip on LSD. Despite being entombed in his dark grave, he could actually see shimmering colors. Vibrant greens and oranges swirled in his vision, weaving together in fantastic patterns. Through his clouded mind, Brett was enjoying the trip. The pain from his broken clavicle and deteriorating body would occasionally punch through the delirium, but they were more like afterthoughts. And now, he could hear music alongside the visual spectacle in his mind. Well, maybe not music exactly, but whatever his mind decided to play for him had a good, strong beat.

Thump.

There it was again. Distantly, he wished he could hear more.

Thump.

Whatever it was, it was heavy on the bass and drums.

Thump.

Suddenly, the colors started desaturating, losing their brilliance. No! In his earthy grave, Brett moaned. His consciousness was clearing, the sharp stabs of his dying body returning. As the last of the colors faded, he saw the black soil that surrounded him again. Another pang cut through him like a razor.

No! I don’t want to die in pain!

The buzz he had felt—the oblivious and even pleasant stupor he had been in—was also gone now. Why is this happening? Another bolt of agony seared through his body. He squirmed in his tight space and—

Thump.

Huh? Why is the music back?

Thump.

That’s not music, he realized, that’s—

Thump.

The sound that had jarred him back to the banal reality of his predicament came from a distance.

Thump.

It was getting closer.

Thump.

The sound seemed much closer and heavier now. Brett could even feel the vibration carry through the earth that surrounded him.

Thump.

That seemed to be a lot closer, as if whatever it was had just jumped a lengthy distance. The tremor was much more pronounced now. He imagined a large beast, like a woolly mammoth or a gigantic moose. A long silence followed the last thump, then he heard another sound, and Brett tried to determine what it was.

Is that someone whistling?

It was. Macabre and out of place, the music passed through the crevasses in the tower’s bricks and filtered through the soil. It was an elysian sound with a bright cadence and tempo. The creature stomped closer, but its footfalls were lighter now, almost intentionally synced with the joyful melody.

What in the name of—

The creature started singing. It bellowed the first lyrics. Brett recognized the song. It was one of those old-time spirituals from before the industrial age. Ages ago, he thought. He had come across these old spirituals once in his life, right after his parents had died and Eliza had left him. They had briefly provided him with solace.

“Angels from the realms of glory…” The creature that sang was just outside the walls now. “Wing your flight through all the earth.”

Brett recognized the voice. He was certain it was the Wendigo.

“Master?” he whispered.

“Sages, leave your contemplation,” the familiar voice sang loudly. “Brighter visions beam afar.” Brett could hear a difference in the Wendigo’s timbre, a sort of dry, scratchy tone.

“Seek the great desire of nations.”

Fear and dread overwhelmed him.

“Ye have seen his natal star.”

On the downbeat, the Wendigo stopped singing. There was another long silence. Then the beast spoke to him, almost gleefully. “I never pegged you as a quitter, Brett,” it teased. “And here you’ve gone and shit the bed”—the creature laughed—“both literally and figuratively.”

Frozen in fear, Brett couldn’t speak.

The Wendigo started whistling that melody again, then paused. “You don’t sound like you’re ready to be my lieutenant.”

Brett opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. So close to death, he felt the urge to step back from the ledge. To not embrace the darkness the Wendigo represented.

Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll let me go? he thought. But then you will die, Brett. He took a deep breath, not caring about the grit that wisped into his throat. Maybe there are worse things than death? At least you would die on your own terms. And what if the Wendigo allowed him out of the tower—what then? Would he just be the Wendigo’s whipping boy? The punishment that the beast had put him through was extreme, too severe. Even in his fractured mind, the former nurse knew that. After how loyal Brett had b—

“Come on, shitheels,” the creature outside the tower walls mocked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Brett closed his eyes as he tried to decide his own fate. Did he really want to be this abomination’s lackey? And could he ever trust the Wendigo again after what it had done to him?

“Tick, tick, tick, times a-wastin’,” the monster taunted.

Embracing his own death had appealed to Brett. It would finally end his tortured existence. It would finally—

“Last chance, shitheels—this train is a-rollin’ out,” the Wendigo warned as it started stomping away from the outer wall.

Let him go. Let him go, Brett! Abruptly, the worm in his ear squirmed. Revulsion and fear overtook him. “Don’t go! Don’t go,” he screamed. “Please let me out of here.”

The creature outside the tower laughed menacingly.

4

“You’re lucky I came for you at all,” the Wendigo growled from outside the walls. “I really should leave you to rot. You’re the reason my son died.”

The revelation shocked Brett. At first, he couldn’t say anything. Then he stammered, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. “Son… son? You mean J… Jordan?”

“No, you idiot,” the beast roared. “Ethan! My son, Ethan! You dumb fuck. Your intervention delayed Janna’s arrival to the final room.” The monster pounded against the brick wall, and Brett could feel the force ripple through the soil. “Had you not stuck your nose in, events would have transpired differently, and my son would still be alive, you fuck!”

“But… but…” Brett started hyperventilating and more grit slipped down his throat. “But, but—”

“But, but, but,” the monster yelled at him scornfully. “Don’t you have anything better to say that?”

“I… I… I’m sorry,” Brett wailed. “I’m so sorry. I’m soooooo sooooooorry!” As he sobbed profusely for over a minute, the worm inside his ear shifted again. “What… what can I do to make it up to you?”

There was only silence. He wondered if the Wendigo had actually left. Then it spoke. “We’ll get to that later,” the beast said in a more normal tone. The rage was gone—for now. Still, there was that raspy difference Brett had originally detected in the master’s voice. “I want you to pass a test. You see, I don’t think that you have what it takes to be my servant, but maybe you’ll prove me wrong.”

“I do. I do have what it takes,” the nurse cried. “Please let m—”

“Shut up, shitheels,” the Wendigo said absently. “I’m going to provide a way out for you.” Something heavy slammed against the brick wall, creating a thunderous noise. The black earth around Brett shook from the force. Then he heard what sounded like a turbine engine. Moments later, he saw daylight for the first time in over two days.

5

The hole was roughly six inches in diameter. It looked like the dirt was sucked out through an opening in the brick wall. The hole wasn’t wide enough for Brett to squeeze through, but he figured he could dig and dislodge the earth. That’s the test, he thought. The Wendigo wants me to dig myself out.

Abruptly, the beast outside the tower started whistling again, startling Brett. The sound sent shivers through his body. He could hear the words of the spiritual, only this time, it was all in his mind. “Wing your flight through all the earth,” he recalled. Yes. He wants me to dig through the hole.

There was a loud bang as the Wendigo struck the tower wall again. More soil crumbled. Brett could see more daylight through the hole, which was now eight inches wide. He started scraping at the dirt.

“Do you remember the person you discovered buried inside that room?” the Wendigo asked.

Brett stopped. Yes, I remember him. Barely alive. So, it wasn’t me, after all—

“Well, he’s been imprisoned for a much longer time than you. The poor guy. And let’s just say, he’s devolved.” The Wendigo paused. “He’s also grown quite the appetite.” The Wendigo laughed dryly. “This, shitheels, is your test.”

Suddenly, most of the daylight was obscured as the hole was filled in again. Initially, Brett thought it was soil. Then a head pushed through the opening. Its eyes were black marbles, and its skin was drawn and leathery. The zombie drove through the hole and reached for him, clawing at his face with its jagged fingernails. Brett screamed as the corpse lunged toward him and plunged its teeth into his right forearm. It tore away his flesh in a long strip. He could feel blood run down his arm to his shoulder. The zombie drove forward again, and now Brett could smell its decayed flesh. It bit into the side of his neck.

Oh my god, it might have cut through my—

The monster bashed the heel of its hand into his nose, breaking it for the second time in just over a week. Warm blood sprayed from the middle of his face and flowed into his mouth. He coughed in revulsion against the coppery taste. The zombie didn’t let up and, vaguely, he wondered how the thing could move so fast. It bit into his left arm. That finally broke through Brett’s shock, allowing Brett to punch the creature with his right fist. The zombie’s flesh collapsed, but in the darkness, he wasn’t sure what he had hit.

The monster’s sharp fingernails gouged into his chest as it tried to climb to a higher position. The zombie settled onto the top of his head and tore into his forehead.

Wolf Rage! Brett thought. Why am I not using Wolf Rage?

He cast the spell, and his incisors extended while long claws poked through the skin just below his fingernails. In a panicked frenzy, he slashed blindly at the monster hovering over him and inadvertently sliced through his own right bicep. “Fuck!” he screamed, then noticed that the zombie was no longer attacking. It had slumped onto his body, and Brett could feel its fluids leaking all over him. The rotting smell became overwhelming in the small area, making him want to retch. He tried to push away from the body, but in the tight space, he couldn’t move more than a couple of inches.

He cast Basic Heal for the many injuries he could feel but not see. Small rays of light poked through the few gaps in the hole. The dead zombie’s waist and legs still blocked most of it. As Brett continued to cast healing spells, he wondered how he was going to get out of the hole.

Outside, the Wendigo started whistling, startling him yet again. Then it stopped and said sardonically through the opening, “That was a pretty lame effort, shitheels. Have you forgotten all the gifts I have given you?” The monster laughed. “Not too quick on the uptake, are you?”

Rage overtook Brett’s fear, and he wanted to scream at the beast. Fuck you, you fucker! But he held his tongue. Despite the misery the Wendigo had put him through, Brett knew better.

“Anyway, you’re not done yet,” it bellowed. “I suggest you get those shitheels moving!”

A buzzing sound engulfed Brett. It grew louder and seemed to come from all around him. He pulled the corpse deeper into the hole, hoping to clear the space and get more light. The zombie’s torso separated from its waist. Slimy intestines flopped onto Brett’s exposed legs as the momentum of the break flipped him onto his back.

As he shoved the torso to his side, his fingers burst through shrunken organs, rupturing them. More fluids coated his hands and sunk into the earth, but the flattened tissue created more room for him to move.

He wrapped his palms around the severed lower half of the corpse that was still blocking the tunnel. As it loosened and fell into the bottom of the hole, Brett saw where the noise was coming from. It looked like every insect in the tower had burrowed through to his location, attracted by the smell of the zombie’s ripe flesh. With the blockage of the corpse having been removed, a mass of beetles, spiders, worms, and other vermin collapsed onto him. There were hundreds of them. They scrambled onto his body and started biting through his skin. With full daylight shining through from the top of the tunnel, he watched the insects rush to the zombie’s corpse. However, hundreds still attacked him, targeting his open wounds. As they burrowed into his flesh, Brett screamed, and two beetles crawled into his opened mouth. He coughed and spat them out, frantically struggling to move up toward the opening.

He dug his extended claws into the dirt, trying to break it loose. Insects scurried under his leather brigandine armor as he squeezed through the hole by two feet. He extended his legs straight and pushed himself up another eight inches. He tried that again, but his feet tapped against the wet mud and squashed organs at the bottom of the hole. He tried to move his arms, but they were wedged against his body in the small tunnel.

The insects climbed up his legs. Brett panicked. I’m trapped! More beetles and spiders were scurrying from above him now. The Wendigo is right. I am an idiot. Look what I’ve done to myself! The terror overtook him and his ability to think became impaired. He tried to wiggle forward and back, but the compressed earth held him firmly in the vulnerable position. What can I do! What can I do?

The insects bit and crawled over every inch of his body. A beetle jumped from the pack and landed on his nose. It crawled up to the corner of his eye and picked at his small, pink tear duct. As a former nurse, Brett recognized that his brain was being overwhelmed by the panicked reaction of his nervous system as it pushed away any rational thought. He started to hyperventilate in the cramped space. Dehydrated and malnourished, he tried to calm himself and concentrate on finding a solution. He couldn’t use his claws with his arms locked to his sides. What can I use? He closed his eyes.

Telekinesis!

Brett’s eyes widened as he remembered the ability the Wendigo had granted to him. He withdrew the Wolf Rage spell and motioned his fingers upward. His body shoved up toward the top.

“Yes!” he cried.

But as he ascended, the sides of the tunnel tugged at his armor, pulling it lower and exposing his neck. At the same time, the mound of insects that had collected around his neck grew as more bugs were scraped from the sides of the tunnel. Brett moaned as the mass piled around his ears and nose, but he grimly continued to use his telekinesis ability to get out of the hole. He gave himself another push and crown of insects around his neck squeezed tighter against his skin. Another push. The pain around his shoulders, neck and the sides of his face was almost unbearable now. Brett gave himself another push and his head poked through the opening in the wall. The huge mass of bugs fell harmlessly to the grass he could now see below him.

Brett shuddered from the trauma then took his first gulp of clean air. As the oxygen filled his lungs, the bile in his stomach shot out of his mouth, and any strength he had left vanished. He slumped against the brick wall, his arms hanging down toward the insects that had already burrowed back into the earth.

6

Brett didn’t lay draped against the exterior wall for very long. He looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Wendigo. He had never seen it in its physical form. It had always spoken to him from the glitch in the northern border. But the creature was gone.

Below him, the shattered remains of two bricks lay in puddles of water and wet grass. Brett guessed that maybe he was twenty-five feet above the ground.

Brett had earned 161 XP from the zombie kill, but that wasn’t enough to boost his current level of 66. He cast more healing spells, then used his telekinesis ability again, levitating completely out of the hole. As more insects tumbled from his waist and legs, he gently lowered his body onto the western side of the tower. He noticed indentations in the soaked grass and shuffled over to them. “Are those tracks?” he asked himself. Pressed into the flattened grass was a repeated pattern of hooves. They were eighteen inches in diameter and led around the tower toward the river on the other side.

The Wendigo has gone back into the glitch, Brett thought. He limped slowly around the tower, first passing the entrance, and then facing the river.

“Wow,” he mumbled.

The water that passed through the glitched rip in the northern border rushed past him unabated. The river was twice the size as when he had last seen it, and the surrounding land was a swamp. There wasn’t any dry land left. Water pooled on top of the heavily soaked earth. As Brett stood watching, astonished by the flooding, his boots slowly sank into deep mud. When water gushed in over his boots, displaced air bubbled out of the wet soil six feet away.

Brett used his telekinesis ability to raise himself out of the muck. He settled himself down onto the massive stone slabs at the front of the tower’s entrance. Gazing up at the structure, he wondered how it was still standing amidst the changing landscape.

“It must be the basement level that’s keeping it vertical,” he muttered to himself and then followed that thought. “Good thing for me.”

Suddenly, he was rocked with a series of powerful coughs. Dark green and bloody phlegm flew out of his mouth and splatted onto the wet rock surface. “Ugh,” he groaned and cast another Basic Heal. “Guess I’ll be doing this all day.”

Brett rested at the tower’s steps, continually using the healing spells. After thirty minutes, he felt refreshed. His injuries were starting to heal, but he was starving. He walked through the wet grass and hobbled into the river. The waters carried him fifty feet before he grabbed hold of a rock, but he wasn’t concerned with the current. He knew he could pull himself out of the river at any time.

The water washed away the insects that still clung to him and the dirt that had covered him for two days. Brett trembled, relieved that he was finally free of the bugs and the filth. He levitated back onto the shore and was about to draw a few salmon out of the river to eat when the Wendigo spoke to him from the black glitch.

“Come here, shitheels.” The beast’s voice still had that peculiar rawness, but it sounded deeper coming out of the black-and-white void.

Brett knew he couldn’t resist, and didn’t dare provoke the master’s anger again. He shambled close to the northern border, then levitated above the turbulent river. He floated toward the center of the glitch and waited.

Red tendrils protruded through the black mass and Brett moaned, understanding why the Wendigo’s voice had sounded different. It’s malnourished too, he thought. It hasn’t been able to feed off me in days. Six appendages hooked onto and pierced through the skin on his neck, wrists, and legs. The tendrils began drawing his blood. Like before, Brett became lightheaded, then passed out. His telekinesis power switched off when he slipped into unconsciousness, but by then, the tendrils held him firmly, suspended above the raging river. When the Wendigo was done feeding, it tossed Brett back toward the tower, where he landed in a puddle of water and mud.

7

Brett regained consciousness sometime later and felt weak again. Tears flowed from his orange eyes as he stared at the unforgiving sky. He started casting healing spells. Is this what I really want? he wondered. He thought about how he had tricked his way into the realms, hoping it would be a reset for his troubled life. Instead, it seemed to be a continuation of his miseries.

Yes, but Emma.

For the first time in days, he smiled as he remembered the blonde Grimalkin member from his former team. She was the only one who’d shown any empathy toward him when all the other members had ostracized him. But he knew something that none of those fuckers knew—that he and Emma really did belong together. The Wendigo had told him as much and as he recuperated and came to terms with the fact that the Wendigo had freed him, he understood that the prophecy could still be fulfilled. That somehow, through all this mess, something good was going to come of it. If he kept his faith and the Wendigo kept its promise, Emma would be his.

He sat up and shivered. I need to get warm. He looked up toward the hill, where the wolves would be waiting for him. “I’ll have some food, start a fire,” he said to himself, “and spend the rest of the day recovering.”

He stood and trudged to the river. With a flick of the wrist, three large-bodied salmon surged out of the waters. As they flew toward him, Brett cast Wolf Rage and skewered their bodies with his long claws. As he placed the fish into his food inventory, the Wendigo called out from the glitch again. “Come here.”

Brett turned and gazed at the swirling white lights in the black void. A whimper—similar to the sound a dog would make when it was distressed—escaped his lips. He sighed and walked to the shore by the glitch. He was about to use his telekinesis ability again when the voice called out. “That’s okay. You can stay there.”

Brett lowered his arms and stared up at the black rip as violent waters swept past him.

“Everything you have waited for is now within your grasp,” the Wendigo told him. “But you will have to hurry.” It paused, then continued, barely above a whisper. “Listen to me very carefully, soldier.” The beast from the glitch spoke of revelations, plans, and destinies to embrace.