How I’m not dead is a baffling mystery to me. When all that shit came tumbling down I didn’t even see it coming, all I could concentrate on was Clearwood slouched under it all, clearly unable to move and about to die badly. I don’t think I even got close, to be honest. The first crate hit me and I was driven to the floor, part of me was thinking this is a stupid way to store supplies, it’s just an accident waiting to happen. It was only a split second before I got cracked in the skull that it occurred to me that actually this was probably a trap of Ashsong’s anyway, that he set it up to do just this when he really needed it to. So it’s actually performing its function as intended. He probably just intended to kill a whole lot more of us with it.

I have no idea how long I was out, though now I think about it probably not long, it probably just stunned me for a few minutes. In truth I was probably disgustingly lucky, all things considered. I come to trapped, pinned down in near total darkness, a few pinholes of light here and there for me to see from, but it’s the smell that rattles me. Cabbage, I think. Some kinda vegetable, anyway. For a few moments I’m stuck fast, and I start to panic. All that thrashing helps in the end though, shifting the shit all over me enough I can start pushing my way out, then I come up gasping and flop out over the chaos of shattered supplies.

Unbelievably, I’m in one piece, nothing broken. My head’s throbbing bad, and when I touch it my fingers come away bloody, but the rest of me’s largely unmarred, a few nasty gouges here and there but looks like my leather armour meant it wasn’t anything like as bad as it could’ve been. Giving my head a good shake, I look round proper now, getting my head back in the game.

Two big fights going on. Off to the side, Kesla and Min are going off at the Creep big time, and while he might’ve been impressive at the start of the fight, least what I saw as I was trying to pick myself up after Ashsong’s big blast, now he’s no great shakes. Krakka’s dancing around him, holding his hammer high as it blazes brighter than the sun on a brilliant day, and all the time the Creep’s cowering from it, his own defence against Min and Kesla’s attacks clumsy and born of desperation. He’s holding them off, but only just.

The other fight looks to be the hot one. Oh gods Gael, what the fuck are you doing? She’s trying to take Ashsong on with her sword, what the hell is she thinking? Yeah, he looks wounded, but he’s still giving good as he gets, and while she now has Shay and Tarrow on her side they look to be taking hits that are putting them down too. I gotta get in there fast.

Problem is, while it ain’t a huge amount of ground to cover, this is now treacherous terrain, and it wastes me valuable time trying to cross it without doing myself a further injury. At one point I look up and see Tarrow get faked out and Ashsong takes his head for it, and I almost shout in shock but then Shay beats me to it, her own scream so full of pain and anguish I couldn’t match it if I tried. It redoubles my efforts though.

Then Ashsong drives that weird crystal sword right through Gael, the tip coming out through her back so fast that it tears through her cloak before it can pin it out. This time I do howl, and I stop thinking about trying to take care moving forward, so I go down hard when another piece of wood crumples under my foot and I’d shred my knees if they weren’t armoured. I drag myself up with a snarl and power through the last of it, and start running the moment I hit open ground again. Just as Shay stabs Ashsong through a great gash in his armoured side that I’m a little goggled by.

I come in under his arm without even slowing my feet, and I’m already prepping my thrust before I’ve quite dragged the knife from its sheath on my flank, but if it damages the harness on the way out I really don’t notice any more than I give a shit. I do what I always do, plunging the knife as far as it’ll go into the soft, unprotected flesh of his armpit, then pull free and do it again and one more time for good measure, just like I was taught. I’m so quick I’m already dancing away before he can even react from it, but by now he’s already so fucked up it’s little more than a coup-de-gras.

Then I hear a great clamour of clomping metal footfalls pounding over the marble before a brief breath as Kesla launches herself into the air, swinging her bastard sword high in a great blinding arc of white hot steel. She brings it down as she drops, finally landing in a crouch because the moon-blessed steel in her hands doesn’t seem to meet any resistance at all.

By the time he comes apart I’m already forgetting about him, I skirt around the body as it undoes itself and go to Gael’s side, so when she collapses I’m there to take her in my arms. She seems much heavier than usual, but I think I’m just be feeling all the shit I been through tonight, least in the background, so I’m not as strong as I would like. But I’m strong enough, at least, that I don’t drop her as I fall to my knees and pull her close.

A great keening fills the chamber now and it’s too strong for me to ignore, even with the matter at hand, so I can’t help looking back at the other fight to see Krakka and Min backing away fast while the Creep folds up on itself. They were so scary before, especially when I got a close look at it, a little blurry from getting rattled but clear enough, when it suddenly appeared out of nowhere to cut Garnon down. Human but also clearly not, the way it moved there was no way it could be, and something in those eyes was just off.

Now, this thing, whatever it is, is both terrifying and pitiful as it drops to its knees, gripping its sword tight in both hands but no longer a threat. Suddenly it doesn’t even look real, like it’s not really there at all, the best way to describe it is like a reflection in a window on a particularly gloomy day. I can see through it, it’s gauzy and faint and barely visible in places, and now, as I watch, as that strange high pitched wail that’s coming out of it – but not from its mouth, now I realise it seems to be coming from every part of it – as that builds, becoming truly unbearable, it frays at the edges, like a piece of particularly fragile gossamer torn asunder in a high wind, pieces starting to tear away. Suddenly the whole of it just breaks apart into millions of tiny shreds of fading blackness, then it’s just … gone, and the whole place is silent as a tomb.

Gael coughs and I’m brought back to the moment like a falling weight. “Oh fuck … oh gods, what were you thinking? You idiot, why did you do that? What have you … what are you … what …”

They just cough again and wince, tensing for a moment as a spasm wracks them, and I realise the sword’s still run through them. They’re trying to speak, but nothing’s coming, they can’t force it out, or maybe they just can’t find the breath. Gods, they’re so pale, their lips are turning grey as I watch, their eyes glazing but still locked on mine. Finally they get something out, it might be my name. I can’t be sure. After what must be a titanic effort they bring their hand up and touch my cheek, but their arm gives out almost as soon as they touch my face. “How … how did you … survive that …”

“What? How did I … you’re worried about me? Fuck, Gael …” I look around now but there’s no help to hand, Kesla’s standing over us but the look on her face tells me all I need to know, really. She knows as well as I do how lethal this wound is. Gods, I’ve never seen her cry before, I didn’t even know she could.

“KRAKKA!!! HELP ME!!! KRAKKA!!! PLEASE, DO SOMETHING!!!”

I hear his tromping footfalls before he arrives, then a great clatter as he must drop to his knees while he’s still moving and slides those last few feet to my side. He drops Bloodmoon with a loud clang and raises his empty hands, reaching out but stopping just short, and I know he must be taking it in. When I look at his face I see the tears starting to spring in the corners of his eyes as realisation hits him. “Oh no … gods no …” He turns to me and I could murder him for that look. “They’re dead ...”

“What? No, they’re –” My voice chokes out the moment I look down, I see it instantly. Their head lolls back now, neck barely supported by my wrist, and they’re so still, eyes unfocused now, looking off into space. But it’s their throat, icy white now where it’s not splashed with their own blood, it’s so still now. “No. No, no no no …” I reach over with my other hand, press my fingers to the spot where I should find the pulse, and there’s nothing there. I press harder, squeezing now, and stop myself quick when I realise what I’m doing. Don’t choke ‘em, even if they are … gods, I can’t even bring myself to think it. “No, no you don’t Gael, c’mon. Don’t do this to me, don’t die, please don’t die …”

Kesla drops to her knees beside us, her armour making a real racket under the impact, but if it hurts her it doesn’t seem to register. “Art … Art, honey, they’re gone. It’s too late –”

“SHUT UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! IT’S NOT TOO LATE!!! THEY’RE NOT DEAD!!! THERE’S STILL A CHANCE, THERE HAS TO BE!!!”

“Art, please …” Kesla reaches out, grips my shoulder, squeezing gently. “This is useless –”

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!!” I shake her off angrily, really snarling now. It’s getting hard for me to see now, my vision swimming as the tears start to pour, I feel them drenching the fur on my face, it must be dripping on Gael now, too, like it matters. “Please … that can’t … it can’t be true …” I turn to Krakka, who looks as stricken as Kesla, I can just make it out through the wet. “Do something.”

He starts to speak, but stops himself. He looks down at Gael, then back up at me. I give my wrist a savage swipe across my eyes, and while it clears away the worst of the tears’ distortion I’m sure it must spread all kinds of fresh gore over my face. He looks scared, I can’t believe it, I never seen him afraid before. Not really. “Art, I … I don’t … that’s –”

I grab his arm quick and drag him towards me, yanking him close with a force I surprise myself with as much as him, and I can’t help the growling menace creeping into my words: “Fuck you, don’t you dare. Fix this. Fix them! Bring ‘em back NOW!!”

“Please, Art … it’s not that easy, I can’t just call on my Lady and put a little healing energy into them. They’re dead. Their soul’s left their body, this is just an empty shell. I’d need to call her back into it while I repair the damage. This is dangerous magic, Art.”

“So? You don’t think they’d do it for you if they could?”

Krakka glares at me, and there’s so much going on in his face now. He can be hard to read sometimes, unless he’s really wearing his emotions on his sleeve, but I’ve never seen him this expressive before. I can see it, though, he’s conflicted, he’s expressed the dangers but I can tell he’s as desperate to try this as I am. He loves ‘em too, much as Kesla does, much as I do. Dunno about Yeslee, but I suspect …

“Can you?” Kesla’s looking at him closely now, and there’s something very fragile in her now – hope. “Can you really do that?”

“I … I don’t know. I can’t do it on my own. Even with Serena on my side I don’t have enough power for this. A resurrection … that is a tremendous drain, I’d have to give so much of myself, enough to bring them back, and to heal their body once more, and I don’t have that kind of strength. I need someone to help me, to share the load. But it’ll be as dangerous for them as it will be for me. More, even. There’s a very real danger that if this doesn’t work it could kill all three of us.”

“I’ll do it.” I don’t even have to think about it, the words come on their own, but I stand by ‘em. “Use me. Take everything you need.”

“Art –”

“No.” Kesla fixes me with her hardest glare, but I can see it’s put on. She’s scared of the possibilities but trying to put a brave face on. “Not you. Gael’d never forgive me if I let you do this, and no way I’d let any of you do anything I wasn’t willing to do myself. It’s gotta be me.”

“Fuck that.” Shay drops into a crouch at Kesla’s side, looking down at Gael’s lifeless form now. “This is all my fault, I brought you into all this. I’m responsible when you dig right down into it. I’ll do it.”

“What?” Kesla rounds on her. “Come on … no, you’ve lost so much … you can’t –”

“Yes I can. You said it yourself, Gael wouldn’t be able to forgive you if you let him do this? Well I don’t think they’d want you to do it either. Me, I’m an outsider to you. I don’t matter. But this is my fault. I can’t just stand by and let you take the risk of paying even more for our mistakes.”

“Shay, are you sure –”

“Yes, mother.” She looks up at Min, who’s stood over her now, so tall she dwarfs all of us down on the floor. “We owe them a debt. I have to fix this.”

“What?” I look at them all, a little amazed now. “No, you can’t just … I can do this. It’s Gael. Let me help ‘em.”

Shay gives Kesla a pointed look, but I have no idea what’s passing between them, or even if they actually understand each other in this moment. But when Kesla looks at me, I can see it in her face, she can’t hide it in this moment. She can’t lose me too. Shit.

“Now wait just a minute –”

She rushes me. I can’t believe she’s still capable of moving so fast, she looked so tired when the fight finally ended, we all did, probably. We’re all running on our last legs, exhaustion taking hold, I’d half expect Kesla to just collapse the moment she tried anything. Instead she tackles me to the floor before I can even start to react, and when I go down I lose my grip on Gael as Shay takes hold and pulls ‘em towards her. Now I start fighting, the moment I fumble I must just go feral.

Kesla holds onto me, wrapping her arms round me and her legs too, crushing me tight to her and pinning my arms best she can but I am pissed now. I bite, I claw, I spit my fury but in truth I don’t achieve anything, she’s just so strong I don’t stand a chance.

The first thing Shay does is drag the sword out of Gael, freeing up a little splash of blood before the last seems to pour out from the exit wound in their back, but there’s really not much left, now I’m looking. Oh gods, it’s really true, they really are dead. Seeing that, all the fight finally goes out of me and I start weeping again, more completely now. Kesla squeezes tighter, but it’s not even restraint now, she’s just trying to comfort me, uncomfortable as my current imprisonment is.

“Mother Luna … Mother Luna please hear my plea.” Krakka stays where he is as he work to get out of his gauntlets, struggling with the catches and straps but doubling down and working through it. His hands are shaking, I can see it now. He’s still scared, but it’s worse now. Oh gods, is he even up to this?

Shay lays Gael out in front of him, then settles down as comfortably as she can on the other side of the body, starts to work her way out of her own gloves and bracers. Seeing this seems to give Krakka strength, and when he looks up their eyes meet, Shay nods, and he returns it. He takes a deep breath, and when he lets it go he’s regained his composure. He starts praying under his breath now, finally clawing free of his gauntlets so he can start unpacking his oil from the small satchel at his side.

“Mother Luna, please help them. You love this child, you’ve granted them your blessing many times and you know their worth, they are not found wanting. Heal them, restore them, bring them back to the light and the life they have been so unfairly and untimely ripped from. Please … please just bring Gael back to us. Please …”

Anointing Gael’s head with the oil, he then rubs another smear across Shay’s forehead, finally his own, and place his hands over their chest, nodding to Shay to do the same. When she lays her own hands on top of his, he nods, looks up to her again, and starts to mutter, quietly. “Mother Luna, Lady of Light, restore this child.” Over and over. After a moment, Shay takes up the litany herself, and their voices slowly rise as they keep repeating it.

A minute passes, and nothing. Then I hear Kesla muttering to herself, and I realise she’s speaking the prayer under her breath the same as they are. I listen for a few moments, then I join her, faltering at first, my voice a broken croak, but after clearing my throat the words come easier and I start to chant the words almost immediately, giving them as much weight as I can. Kesla seems to take this as an invitation and raises her own voice too. After another minute a lower, more resonant voice joins us, and I realise it’s Min.

She’s dropped to her own knees behind Shay, and now she lays her hands on her daughter’s shoulders as she takes up the litany herself. Krakka’s raising his own voice now, and Shay does the same, and now, finally, something seems to be happening.

Gael’s skin is glowing. It’s subtle, you could miss it in someone else but given how brilliant her naturally pearlescent skin is it’s definitely clearer in her case, and she’s starting to flare. As the prayer goes on it brightens, her fingers and throat and face becoming beacons, and now I think I can see the blood on her skin starting to fade. No, not fade. Her body is drawing it back inside. Now I can see the blood pooled on the floor is moving, seeming to draw back inwards, slowly at first but already gaining speed.

Kesla lets her grip ease as she sits up, but I stay where I am, now I’m actually starting to hold onto her. I keep up the prayer and she does the same, unable take my eyes off this display.

What was once a glow has become a blaze, I can barely even recognise their features now, it’s so bright. The light plays across the others’ faces and now I can see something’s happening to them too. Shay’s face is tightening, she’d having to fight to get the words out now, her skin becoming drawn while I see tendons starting to stand out in her neck, her teeth gritting. Now I look at Krakka I think I see the same, although with the feathers it’s harder to tell. With him it’s more his posture, the way he’s also having to work to repeat his own prayer.

Then something starts to run from one of Shay’s nostrils, something dark. Blood. The other nostril follows, and the flow grows stronger. Looking to Krakka I can see the same, dark red streams starting to roll along his beak to drip onto Gael’s unmoving form. They’re both starting to slouch where they’re kneeling, like the strength’s starting to leak out of them, but they’re both fighting hard to stay upright. And they’re still chanting even though their voices are cracking badly.

Min pulls closer to her daughter now, wrapping her arms around her, as much to hold her up as to just hold her, and I can see she’s weeping now as she lays her brow against the back of Shay’s head. She keeps praying too.

Krakka falters first, his head drooping while his words just seem to give out, and he half collapses but manages to claw back to himself at the last, grunting gutturally as he fights to right himself, then starts praying again. He keeps his hands on Gael the whole time, impossible as the task is starting to look now, and a few moments later that same fatigue seems to hit Shay. She just swoons, but doesn’t have a chance to collapse because Min’s holding her so tight. She might even be out for a moment or two, but then she blinks and powers through it, and her own prayers only falter for the breadth of the collapse. She keeps her hands in place too, and now she’s so much more drawn, like Gael’s drawing the life right out of her. Gods, I think that really is what’s happening.

Gael’s fingers move. I’m not sure if I really see it, I might just be imagining it, but I swear I see two of the fingers on her right hand twitch. I start to sit up but then freeze, and now I’m holding my breath, my own prayer petering out as I wait. Kesla falters herself, but only for a moment, she takes up her own again, but I can hear something in her tone now. Hope. Very fragile, but there all the same. Hearing it makes me start muttering the prayer again too.

Another twitch, but this time it’s a lot clearer, or maybe I’m just looking for it now. Then their left hand clutches for a moment where it’s been laid on their lap, and the fingers of their right flex a little. Then their face too, just the slightest crease of a frown forming for the length of a breath and then smoothing out again. I start to sit up more seeing that, and Kesla finally releases her grip on me entirely as I start to crawl away from her.

I go very carefully, very slowly, taking the greatest care in my approach. The glow in their skin’s fading now but where it was I can already see how much healthier they look. Very much the Gael I know so well. I move towards them now on hands and knees, creeping cautiously, and as I draw close their face is growing more animate, their lips quirking now, parting for a moment, then as I reach their feet and start to work my way up their throat moves, and then their chest. It rises. Hesitant at first, just the tiniest rise and fall in quick succession, and I freeze where I am. I stop praying at last, I can’t help it. Then another rise, and this time it’s a full breath, their lips parting in the same moment their nostrils flair, and when they breathe out there’s another moment before the next breath follows. And another.

Seeing that I almost collapse right on the spot, but instead I just settle at their side and reach out, very tentatively, to take their hand. It’s warm. Not as warm as I’d like, but at least warm enough to reassure me. For a few moments it’s limp, but then her fingers start to move and I ease my grip enough for them to work around my hand, finally slipping, intertwined, between my own. Their grip’s similarly weak, but they still give mine a little squeeze.

“Gael …” I barely breathe it, but their eyes are focusing now, and their lids blink. Clearly a response. I repeat their name, and this time their lids flutter, roving for a moment but then meeting mine, and their lips quirk. It might actually be a smile.

Shay’s prayer slips again, and this time her voice gives out entirely as she collapses into her mother’s arms, letting out a long, wheezing breath. She doesn’t draw another, and Min reacts immediately, drawing her daughter closer and starting to shake her, gentle but insistent all the same. “Shay? Shay … Shay! Shay, are you … Shay!”

The half-orc gasps at last, then starts coughing as she fights to draw fresh breath. Her mother practically crushes her this time as she hugs her tighter, and this time she doesn’t even try to hide her emotions, starting to sob on the spot. Shay struggles with her breathing for a few more moments before finally wrestling it under control, looking down at Gael again. “Is … are they … all right?”

“I don’t know.” Krakka rasps the words out, barely keeping himself from collapsing too.

“Gael, you with us?” I keep hold of their hand as I lean in until I’m close enough to feel her breath on my cheeks. They blink a few times, finally able to properly focus on me, and for a moment confusion crosses their face, but it’s gone quickly.

“Art?”

“Oh fuck …” I sort of collapse again, letting my head drop on their chest for a moment, and it’s only when I lift it again that I realise the wound in their chest’s healed too, just a two-inch hole in the armour to mark its place. “Gods, Gael … what the hell were you thinking?”

“Well it … seemed like a good idea at the time.” They croak, starting to rise but faltering immediately.

“No, don’t try to move.” Krakka’s voice is a little clearer now, but not by much as he lays a very shaky hand on her chest and presses down very gently. “You’re going to be very weak for a few days.” He manages a smile, but it’s a fragile looking thing right now. “Tell the truth, so will I.”

“And Shay?” Min’s own voice sounds awfully broken too.

“The same.” He clears his throat, but that just brings on another coughing fit. “Oh gods … yeah, we’ll all be pretty out of it for a little while. It worked, but that was worryingly close to failure. We got very lucky.”

Kesla laughs at that, but it sounds bitter indeed. “Yeah, no shit. Very lucky.” She draws her knees up to her chest and hugs them, which seems an impressive feat in that armour. “Really hope we won’t have to fight our way out after all this, we’re in no fit state.”

“No.” Min croaks, swiping her wrist across her eyes, regardless of her own armour. “No, I don’t think you will. The prize is yours, I’m returning it without reservation. I’m sorry I can’t offer you much more recompense after all this.”

This time the bitter irony in Kesla’s cold chuckle’s even stronger. “Really? After what you just had to give up? What you almost gave up?” She lets out a deep sigh and it hitches, for a moment I reckon she might start sobbing too. “Gods … I’m so sorry for all you’ve lost tonight.”

Min looks at her for a long time, and suddenly her face is unreadable again. Then she looks down at her daughter and her expression softens. Her daughter, still very much alive even if she seems to be in the worst state imaginable short of dead, raises her head in what must be a titanic effort and looks at her mother. Nothing’s said, but I feel like a wealth of communication passes between them. Finally Min lets out a sigh, and when she looks up she seems very sad indeed. “As am I. I fear that is as much my fault as it is Ashsong’s. But none of the blame can lie with you or yours.”

I know Kesla wants to argue, she’s real cut up about it, it’s well-hidden but I can see it easy enough, and I don’t blame her. I feel like hell for everyone I’ve had to kill tonight, Ashsong and his … friend being a glaring exception. I can only imagine she feels even worse, but she doesn’t argue her case, simply looking down at her blood-streaked gauntlets and pulling in another hitching breath before finally nodding.

We’re all silent for a long time, although I doubt it’s really more than a few minutes of troubled, rueful contemplation. Then Gael tries to sit up again, and this time Krakka helps them as much as he’s able in his own weakened state. In the end they wind up just propping each other up, but Gael looks happy enough with it as they turn to me and manage a weak smile. I return it, my own not feeling much stronger.

“Okay …” Shay finally croaks, looking around at all of us as much as she can with just her eyes. “So what now?”

“I guess we need to see if we can dig out our employer,” Kesla sighs after a thoughtful moment “Just in the off-chance that he might actually have survived that mess too?”

“Oh shit, yeah.” I look back at the great debris field of splintered, shattered supplies, and if I’m honest I don’t feel too hopeful. What are the chances that Wenrich might’ve gotten hit by a bunch of cabbages too instead of something a good deal heavier and therefore more lethal? “Fuck …”