Rhae stumbled down the thin path toward the tower. She imagined that she could see Thenxi’s footprints, but she knew the hail and wind had scrubbed the entire area clean. Tall, yellow grass swayed on either side of the path, whipped about by the breeze, obscuring vision of the beach. The pounding surf grew fainter and fainter the farther she walked, so she figured she must be getting close to the tower, if she remembered the map at all.

Night was falling—in Bridge terms, the darkness just became less restrained and more hostile, almost alive. Rhae quickened her steps, tripping over hidden stones and old roots from long-dead trees. Soon she’d be forced to stop for the night.

Her fingers were sore from playing so much earlier, but she was still tempted to take out her bow harp and play a lightsong. It would be so cheery to have a little orb of light guiding her way, not to mention she could really use a friend. Rhae sighed at the thought. Friendship might need to wait out here. Survival came first. She hated it, but the shock of Thenxi’s abandonment had been a harsh gift, a lesson in staying focused no matter what the situation.

A rustling in the grass made her stop. It sounded too regular for the wind, too large for a human, and too intentional for Rhae to ignore it. She crouched down and started to crawl, still on a mission to reach the tower, but now she couldn’t make any noise. Every little shriveled up leaf on the ground seemed to become an enemy. One misstep and the crunch would draw the attention of . . . whatever that thing was.

A new thought popped into Rhae’s mind, and her horns pulsated with faint light. What if it could smell her and didn’t care about the sound? She clamped her hands over the horns. What if it could see the flashes of light she emitted when she was agitated?

The sounds of crushed stalks of grass and broken brush picked up, accompanied by a low, guttural voice. The tremor of heavy footfalls reached her.

A whimper escaped before she could stop it. She just wasn’t cut out for adventure. Once this was all over, she was going to find a nice city square with fruit trees and gardens, and she’d busk for the rest of her life, playing happy songs for cute children who would laugh and dance to her music.

Somewhere deep inside, however, Rhae’s resolve hardened. She was going to climb to the top of the tower. She was going to find Thenxi and use the key. She was going to complete the mission, with or without the rest of her team.

Rhae slid one foot forward, then another, groping with her hands for a patch of solid rock to bear her weight, then shifted and repeated the process. The wet, heavy snuffling grew closer. Rhae imagined she would feel acid saliva dripping on her head any second, but she wriggled down the path anyway. Better to die trying. Abruptly, the beast ran off in the other direction, howling a hunter’s cry. Seconds later, a shrill note of panic rose into the sky and was cut short. Bones crunched, grinding under enormous pressure.

Rhae jumped up to her feet and ran.

She’d never considered herself particularly fleet, but as her feet slapped against the dirt trail, exhilaration surged through Rhae. This felt like flying all over again. She charged ahead, bathed in the gloom of twilight, skimming over the rocks and roots, tripping and stumbling, but she managed to keep on her feet and continue running. Her pack bounced off her back, and she almost slowed down for the sake of her instruments, but the roar of the creature feeding in the darkness drove her onward, reckless with a desire to live. The monsters wouldn’t catch her tonight.

Rhae ran until her legs shook and her lungs burned. She stumbled to a walk, tripped, and sprawled facedown. Panting, she rolled over to take in her surroundings. Tiny flies rose in a cloud around her, biting and buzzing. Their green, iridescent bodies lit up the area for a moment, enough for her to see the next steps. She waved her hand through the swarm, dispersing the irritating little insects, and scrambled to sit up.

The tower seemed to loom higher than before, but she still couldn't see any way inside, though Thenxi has assured her that the temple entrance was the easy part of the trip. Perhaps tomorrow, when the wan glow of a reluctant dawn illuminated the structure, she could find a way inside. She scrunched up her nose. Staying outside all night didn't seem like much of a plan, especially if that monster still felt hungry. What had it snacked on, anyway? Chances were good that even the prey animals here would terrify her. She needed to find cover as soon as possible, find food, find water—

"First things first!" Rhae piped up, drawing strength from saying the words aloud. She felt invigorated at the sound of a real, living person, even though it was her own voice. "Let's reach the tower, Rhae, then worry about a way in once we're there. You can do it!"

She pulled out her hand-sized pan flute and played a marching tune to accompany her steps, combined with a lightsong. Violet phosphorescence bloomed in a small shape, hovering next to her horns. Rhae giggled and walked onward, tilting her head so that her little guide could dance in a new orbit, spinning in figure eights between the whorls of her horns, then darting up ahead to illuminate the way.

Together, they travelled through the foreboding landscape, a beacon of defiance against the dark. Rhae was done with hiding. She had faced the certainty of her own death and refused to give in—maybe she was an adventurer after all. She pushed past a row of prickly scrub, and saw the entrance to the tower, broad and muscular, jutting out like the shoulder of a draft horse ready to work, gleaming with a dark, flickering light that appeared to have no source.

“Thank you, little friend,” Rhae whispered, dismissing the conjured luminescence sprite. She padded over to the door and pushed. Nothing happened. Rhae bent her knees and threw her shoulder into the door, straining until her ankles hurt from the pressure. The stone pushed back, immense and unyielding. She scratched a horn, catching her breath, and studied the door to see if she could find any weak points.

“I’m not much of an architect or engineer,” Rhae muttered to herself. “It’s to be expected! I’ll have to find my own way inside.”

Behind her, a growl rumbled, so low she felt it in her horns first, then heard it as it turned into a rising shriek that made her clap her hands over her ears. She spun around, and a wave of rotting odor hit her, rank and redolent with death. Gagging, she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up, her stomach knotting in protest.

The beast from before hauled itself into view on hooked talons, each as long as a reaper scythe. Black blood oozed from between its yellow fangs. Its eyes were round, as wide as Rhae was tall—pale, luminous globes that took up half its head. Tufts of fur stuck out from its ragged, bat-like ears, which twitched back and forth, scanning for prey.

Shrieking, it reared itself up on hind legs, its segmented body swelling until Rhae feared it would explode all over her in a burst of slime and stomach acid. It lowered its triangular head and opened articulated mandibles that looked like they could swallow a hog whole.

Rhae forgot how to be afraid. She was an adventurer now, an important part of the team on a secret mission for the imperial chancellor. Fear could wait its turn in the corner. She pulled out her harp and started playing, weaving deceptionsong as fast as her fingers could fly over the strings. “I come from the land of dragons! I’m not afraid of an oversized caterpillar.”

The bloated creature charged, its massive body swaying and hissing as steam escaped its carapace. It chittered and shook its head violently, twitching as it ran toward her at impossible speed for its size.

Rhae stood firm, pouring all of her energy into crafting her illusion. She covered herself in darkness, sucking the ambient light from around her and spinning it into an image that looked like a Qeren. With a last, authoritative strum, Rhae broke off the fortissimo song and dove to the side, rolling away from the monster’s charge. She slithered through the dying grass, hidden in her cloak of darkness, and angled behind a small rock, craning her neck to watch the impact.

The beast roared and slammed its pincers through her effigy, cracking the door behind the illusion. It screamed in agony, holding up a broken forearm. It hunched over by the doorway, shaking its mangled, useless limb, and lashed out again at the image of its prey, striking with its jaws. The stone shattered, detonating inward, filling the tower with a spray of black granite and sparks of silver that Rhae thought might be metal veins for reinforcement.

A death wail rose from the monster as it thrashed about, flattening the stunted trees and tearing up great mounds of dirt. Its head had split when it collided with the stone doors, cracked like an egg dropped from a height. Pale green pus seeped out, sizzling against the ground and burning holes in the fractured stone wherever it touched. A final, keening note reverberated from the distended body of the monster. It shuddered, talons twitching, and lay still.

The figurine she’d spun into existence faded, dissipating in a mist. An echo of her song still hung in the air. She tiptoed around the globs of blood and acid and ducked through the door to the tower, one step closer to her goal.

Stairs curled up around the inside of the wall, looping over and upward for as far as she could see. Torch stones in the walls at regular intervals gave off the same ghastly, unnatural light that had illuminated the exterior entrance. She started up the stairs. At least she could save her strength and didn’t need to play to summon more light. That was already a positive.

Rhae fell into a slow, steady rhythm, regrouping at every other torch stone to hum and recover her spirits. The place was oppressive with the power of the storm; it ripped away at her soul and tried to stir up a hurricane inside her head. Each step grew more difficult the higher she climbed. A vision pressed against her psyche; she was marching into the eye of the storm. The ascent promised greater danger at the top.

Rhae nodded, her horns buzzing and glowing. Let the storms come for her. She was an adventurer; she could handle a little danger. Even so, she clutched her harp a little closer, ready to play just in case. She tapped the wall as she walked and sent peals of laughter echoing up toward the top of the tower. She might not fight like Jarkoda or have great wisdom like Taras, but adventurers all did things a little differently.

Rhae did things her way, with music and determination. She trudged on, toward the top of the tower. Let the storm come. She had friends to protect.