“Look, I’m not going to lie to you,” Tem says, huddled close by in the dark. He’s dropped his little mana torch, not willing to risk compromising our hiding place. “As dangerous as the last few days have been, it’s largely been due to unpredictability. This time, we’re going into the jaws of the lion, so to speak. Secrecy is paramount; we fight on our terms, or not at all.”

I nod, then blush as I remember we’re in the dark and no one can see my nod of assent.

Tem lets out a soft, cautious chuckle. “Don’t worry. I can still see you, Nuri, but I’m glad you’re listening.”

“Right. More cheating with your [Expert Scout] Skills to see in the dark. No mana use at all for me? You don’t want me to try to burn or freeze anything if we have to fight?” I ask him, just to confirm what I already suspect. My whisper doesn’t echo in the tunnel, and I wonder if Tem has yet another stealth-related Skill to dampen noise. Most likely he doesn’t trust me to be circumspect, and I can’t say I really blame him. I’m a rookie at sneaking like this.

“Not a chance,” Tem says. “Clamp down on your mana or get rid of it entirely. Last resort only. If I have to take out guards, then I will, but I’d prefer to sneak past them if we can.”

I take a moment to calm myself before answering. My fingers are cold and my legs won’t stop twitching. My heart is thudding like a stampede of wildebeests, but I know that if I can’t kill the adrenaline flow, then I’m going to make a mistake I regret. Clear mind, steady hands. Once my breathing regulates again, I turn toward Tem again, a dozen more questions on my mind.

The words come tumbling out once I find my voice. “How many guards usually roam this part of a labyrinth? Are we expecting a squad, or only a few at strategic checkpoints? And how do we know that they don’t have some sort of signaling methods or check in system? Taking out one might alert the others. What’s our backup plan if—when—it all falls apart?”

Tem’s words carry an air of finality. “If it comes to that, then we run and pray.”

I lick my lips. “That’s it? That’s the plan?”

“We’re not [Warriors]. You might take out one guard with your spear, thanks to the fancy arcane enchantments on that blade—they’re probably the same ones on my sword, which is what first led me to working with Ezio and trying to synthesize artificial aspects, by the way—but then what? We haven’t practiced fighting in formation. I definitely don’t have any [Commander] Skills like [Hold the Line]. We’re not going to win a pitched battle.”

“I don’t like it,” I blurt out, shivering again with the uneasy feeling that something, or worse, someone, is watching us right now, without my knowledge.

Tem nudges me in the ribs with his sharp elbow, and says, “You don’t have to like it. You just have to do what I say, lad. Stick to the plan and we’ll come out of this all right.”

I blow out my cheeks. “All right. How much farther until we reach this control room?”

Tem hums under his breath. “Tough to say. I haven’t had a chance to scout out this area in a while, and trying to keep you stealthed while we move means that we’re a lot slower. We’ll probably arrive in the next twenty or thirty minutes, though. You ready?”

“No,” I answer him honestly. “I have to pee.”

“Try not to make too much noise while you’re about your business. And if it’s going to be a long one, well.” He sighs heavily. “I suppose I can burn one of my Skills to get rid of it.”

I snicker softly. “You have a Skill for getting rid of bodily waste?”

“Naturally,” Tem says, sounding as dignified as possible, given our discussion. “When I’m in the middle of a crucial scouting run, do you really think I have the luxury of trotting off to the washroom whenever I need to relieve myself? Sometimes covert action is paramount. If I’m on a mission and I have to hide for days on end, what do you think I do if I can’t make it?”

“To be honest, I don’t really want to know the answer to that question,” I say.

Tem huffs. “I’m a refined man of culture. I’m not going to soil my clothes. Now, do I have to use it on you or not?”

I hold up my hands. “Wait, wait. I gotta ask. How exactly did you unlock that Skill? Did you . . . did you blast yourself with mana to try to get rid of it all? Or did you use your mysterious powers to, ah, void your bowels?”

Tem smacks me on the shoulder.

“All right, all right,” I say, laughing at my own joke. “Go ahead, hit me with your fancy poop Skill. Then I'm ready for our suicide mission, other than being terrified out of my mind.”

“Great!” Tem says, and activates his Skill. Instantly, the pressure in my bladder and lower intestines disappears. “Doesn’t matter if you feel ready, anyway; we’re out of time. Stick close. If you get lost again, I’m not coming back for you.”

“Sooo,” I ask with an innocent tone, “what are the chances your undoubtedly impressive [Expert Scout] Skill is called [Cut the Crap]?”

He cuffs me again, but it’s totally worth it in order to make that totally awesome joke, if I do say so myself.

“We’re picking up the pace, Nuri. Hang on tight,” Tem warns sternly. I reach out, keeping my right hand on Tem’s back, and we take off at a lope, moving as silently as we can through the rabbit warren of twisting tunnels. No longer straight and geometric, the passageways curve back in on themselves now in strange spirals, like a recursive puzzle for [Logicians] to suss out. Has the labyrinth type changed? Vaguely, I recall that Tem mentioned a few basic archetypes in labyrinth construction.

I shiver at the weird sensation of running in the dark, but I try to put it out of my mind and focus on matching his speed. I’m not used to moving so quickly without any real sense of where I’m going, and I stumble a few times when he abruptly changes direction or takes a new path down a tunnel that apparently interests him.

The urge rises within me to ask Tem if knows where we’re going along the maze-like, circuitous path, but I bite my tongue. Words are likely to carry, and I’m guessing Tem’s stealth Skill to dampen sound isn’t active any longer, since he’s expecting me to be smart enough not to flap my gums needlessly. Burning through his reserves of Skills before fight or flight seems like a bad idea, not to mention that the strongest of our foes can sense and devour mana like a tasty midnight snack. I don’t want to appear like a giant flesh bag full of candy, so I just have to trust we’re going the right way.

Despite the lack of windows or ports for air, the tunnels don’t feel stale. There’s no smell like most dank, dark places carry. Running through the pitch black is hypnotic, and the whisper of my feet against the stone flagstones as we run has a soothing effect. I focus on the rhythm of pumping my legs, swinging my arms, and breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth on a slow and steady four count, just like Tem showed me. Anything that keeps my mind off the impending craziness is helpful.

Tem slows, and the change in speed makes his back press heavily against my hand. I chop my feet, trying to come to as graceful a stop as I can manage, and wait in a ready stance until he gives further instructions.

“Traps and tripwire,” Tem hisses. “Don’t react. Don’t speak. And definitely do not activate your [Lesser Manasight]. Clear?”

I nod, trusting that he can perceive me through the darkness, even with his back to me.

“Two guards up ahead. I was expecting them to patrol solo, but I wonder if they doubled up after we set off the alarm in the armory. Stay here and don’t move. I can probably take them out before they can signal for help.”

Skepticism makes me do stupid things. I open my mouth to whisper, drawing the world’s quietest annoyed sigh from Tem. “Yes, but you didn’t think the armory was alarmed.”

“It wasn’t,” Tem breathes back, his voice as quiet as a ghost. “Something we took must have had a trigger that I missed.”

“And what if these guards have a similar artifact or tracking device?” I ask him, all too aware that I’m pressing my luck by speaking. But I keep my volume at an admirably low level, and Tem doesn’t reprimand me, so it seems like an acceptable gamble.

“Unlikely. A quality talisman like that isn’t standard issue,” Tem explains patiently. “Now sit down and for the sake of your own skin, shut up. I mean it this time.”

I crouch down and scoot on my seat until my back hits the cool stone of the tunnel wall, and I throw Tem a cheeky salute. He doesn’t answer, but I don’t hear him move, either. I strain my ears, open my eyes, and will myself to see in the dark without relying on mana. The longer I try without any sign of success, the spookier the experience becomes. No wonder mages are so terrified of Tem’s squad. Infiltration, counterintelligence, assassination; the prospect of an unseen assailant strikes terror into their targets.

It’s not the danger that kills them. It’s not the blades in the dark. It’s the crippling fear. It’s the reputation Tem has cultivated more than the man himself. It’s the creeping certainty of their inevitable demise that leads to lapses in judgment and, ultimately, death.

A hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my girlish scream as I jump and fumble around unsuccessfully for my belt knife.

“It’s me, you idiot,” Tem hisses.

I go completely limp, and he releases his hold. “If they’re dead, then why did you need to keep me quiet?” I splutter indignantly.

“Because they’re not dead,” Tem replies.

My brows shoot up in a questioning look, although I’m not sure how much detail Tem can make out in the dark. “Complications?”

“They’re sleeping on the job, so I let them be. Follow me and don’t make a sound.”

“I don’t get it. Why not end their threat against Silaraon? Leaving them alive seems like an unnecessary risk. I’ll do it if you’re too squeamish all of a sudden.”

Tem’s out thrust arm bars my path forward before I take a half step. “And if one wakes while you’re dispatching the other? No. Too risky. Best to circumvent any potential chances for them to sound the alarm.”

“Fine, we’ll do it your way. Boring,” I grumble.

“Boring usually means you’re alive. Watch your step, now, and quit rambling, Nuri.”

Despite Tem’s trepidation, we sneak by the two sleeping guards without mishap. I’m getting better at feeling his movements through the connection point of my palm against his back, and I move more fluidly than I did when we started jogging. Passing so nearby to the void beasts makes my skin prickle with apprehension, however—and there’s some strange, invasive pressure that I can’t quite place. It feels like I‘m a moon caught in their orbit, pulled closer by the sheer force of their presence.

I shake it off and keep gliding forward, tucking away the details to ask Tem about it later. Maybe it’s some inherent principle of the void? Idly, I wonder if I could earn a Void-related Skill by resisting the pull, but I probably won’t have enough exposure. A new Skill takes time and concerted effort, not a single fortuitous encounter, as nice as it sounds to be that lucky.

Three twisting turns later, Tem’s pace slows down a fraction, and I sense the shift in his posture and come to a stop without needing his signal. Proud of myself for getting the hang of feeling his momentum through our touch point, I flash him a cocky grin, even though moving through the darkness is still the most unsettling thing I’ve done.

“I don’t like how many patrols I’m picking up,” Tem murmurs. “I need to investigate again. Solo. And in silence.”

“You sure we’re in the same labyrinth?” I ask, giving voice to my earlier suspicions. “The shape changed from hard, geometric lines to flowing, organic swirls.”

“Yes,” Tem replies instantly in his intense whisper, putting my fears of getting lost to rest. “The circles just mean we passed from the outer layer of the beginning into the middle section. Some labyrinths are more circuitous all the way through. This one is quite basic, and the end will return to the rectangular template, but the area around the control room is always shaped the same. My guess is that it’s most like their homeworld architecture.”

“Huh. It’s kind of odd to think of monsters as having homes,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“Monsters?” Tem echoes, and something dangerous in his voice catches my attention. “That’s a matter of perspective, I suppose.”

“What’s with the sudden philosophizing?” I ask. You didn’t hesitate to kill the wraiths.”

Tem just grunts. He goes silent for a while, and I start to think he’s already left to scout ahead when he abruptly speaks up again. “Invaders deserve no mercy. Simple folk guarding their homes? Well. If I kill them in their sleep, then that makes me the invader, doesn’t it?”

I shut my mouth. What am I supposed say to that?

Torrents of jumbled thoughts are still raging in my mind when Tem returns. I barely flinch when he speaks, too lost in the unceasing streams of timelessness to feel fear. A dull weariness settles into my limbs, constricting and brittle. Sudden longing for home rises in my chest, vicious and sharp with the bright delusion of misplaced hope.

“We’re never getting out of here, are we?” I whisper in despair.

Tem takes both my shoulders in his hands, but his grip is gentle. Strangely considerate. “Seal off your mana again, Nuri. This place is preying on you.”

His words reach as though from a great distance, piercing through the fog building up in my consciousness. I quest inward, and sure as the sun, there’s a taste of an insidious, foreign influence swirling in my mana. Without all the training with Ezio, I never would have developed the sensitivity to notice the intrusion. With a pulse of my will, I cut away the contaminant like a surgeon wielding a scalpel, and my mind clears again.

“Is that the labyrinth itself?” I ask, once more in control of myself. I seal off any possibility of outside entrance, wishing suddenly that my Resistance score were different. Ezio claims that invasive or antagonistic forces aren’t affected by Resistance, but I’m wary anyway.

“Not precisely, but admittedly, I don’t understand this as well as a [Scholar] or [Arcanist] might. From what I can tell, the labyrinth intensifies latent abilities. If our enemies are projecting confusion or chipping away at conviction, then their attacks on our mana, or, more properly, on our souls, are accentuated by the innate power of the labyrinth.”

An attack on my soul? I shiver at the horrifying thought, then glance around me, even though I can’t pierce the darkness without resorting to my [Lesser Manasight]. Nonetheless, I perceive the place with new eyes. A fresh perspective—both danger and opportunity. “If we found a way to harness that power, what could we do with it?”

“Weaponize it,” Tem answers without hesitation.

I hum in noncommittal agreement. Isn’t everything a weapon to the violent? “What about advancing our research into artificial aspects? Do you think Ezio could synthesize the effect of the labyrinth?”

“Not likely, Nuri. He’s not the type to enter a place like this willingly. And I’d never force him to face the horrors of the Rift just to offer him an uncertain chance—not a guarantee, mind you—at enhancing his research,” Tem says.

I scrunch up my nose. “Something doesn’t make sense to me. How can a labyrinth offer an exit portal back to our plane, but not an entrance, too?”

“Do streams flow uphill?” Tem asks.

“Is that supposed to be rhetorical?” I reply, crossing my arms. Two can play that game.

“Look, Nuri,” Tem says, “sometimes nature only works in a single direction. Look at the flow of blood in your body, or being born young. You don’t age backward. It’s not possible, or else it would be the most coveted Skill of all time. We’re mortal. We grow old and die. We can’t reverse natural laws.”

“Morbid. Are you sure we simply haven’t applied the right magical solution? How do we know this is a law instead of a mystery?” I ask, my mind spinning through possibilities. “There’s not much rigor in what I’m hearing.”

Tem whispers back, his voice tightly controlled. “No idea. I can assure you that this is the way it’s always functioned in my decades of delving, however. Perhaps someday a [Researcher] will discover a way to enter through the labyrinth exit. I’ll never say never. Until that time comes, though, our only option is to use the unstable, unpredictable openings of a Rift.”

Something about the explanation doesn’t sit well with me, however. So I let Tem know. “What about the incursions? How do they retreat? It seems like they have to hope that a Rift fortuitously forms nearby so that they can get back home.”

‘There’s no hoping involved,” Tem says. “The Rifts are byproducts of their dimensional beacons.”

“What, so all rifts are leftovers of incursions?” I scoff. “That makes no sense! We would be completely overrun, all over the country.”

“Not exactly,” Tem says, and his voice brims with pride. “People like me show up to hold back the tide. Incursions rely on creating artificial portals between realms, while Rifts can form naturally. They’re still holes in reality. Ezio and others have speculated that invasions from the void accelerate the process of breaking down spatial integrity, giving rise to more frequent Rifts, but we tend not to talk about it since it promotes fear mongering.”

I rub my temples, already feeling an oncoming headache with the amount of information I’m trying to process all at once. “Will a naturally forming Rift have a labyrinth in it?”

“Sometimes, but not necessarily.” Tem pauses, as though searching for the right words to explain. “Yes, labyrinths act as anchors, like we discussed, but it is possible to get in and out of a Rift without them. It’s just a lot harder in most cases.Without some sort of anchor or means to ensure stability, it’s a riskier proposition.”

“So they can form without an anchor? That seems illogical,” I protest.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we’ve just never found the labyrinth openings in the ones I explored. Let’s assume you’re right, and all Rifts have a labyrinth. That still doesn’t mean that we can always enter the labyrinth from within a naturally formed Rift.”

I nod along as the pieces start to come together for me. “In this case, you knew that the Rift would lead to a labyrinth, because we fought off the wraiths.”

“Essentially, yes,” Tem confirms. “What I didn’t expect was this level of activity, however.”

“Like they’re preparing for another Incursion?” I guess.

“Let’s hope not,” Tem says grimly.

“All right, but how do you usually escape from a Rift if there isn’t a labyrinth? I thought you said that exiting the portal is the only way home.”

“No,” Tem explains patiently, as though I’m too stupid to understand unless he repeats himself. And maybe I am, since I’m still confused. “A labyrinth is only a guaranteed way to get where we want to go. You can still exit a Rift using other methods. A labyrinth is faster, more reliable, and far safer when it comes to dimensional travel. Anyway, I’m not getting trapped in a debate with you in the middle of an infiltration mission.I took care of the guards. It’s time to keep moving before we’re detected.”

“You ‘took care’ of the guards? That sounds ominous. What happened to you being the invader if you go after them?

“Sometimes, they simply give me no option,” Tem says quietly.

“Did they fight back?” I ask.

Tem sighs. “Sometimes violence is the only appropriate course of action. I don’t have the ultimate answer, Nuri, but when it comes down to it, I always value my life over their lives. It’s a simple equation. Or would you rather I let them capture, torture, and kill us both?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. It just seems awfully convenient how you make decisions without a single, guiding star of morality. What’s keeping you in line? How do you keep from becoming the bad guy?”

“I just try to stay alive, lad,” Tem snaps at me. “I suggest you do the same. Now, let’s get moving; time’s awasting, and who knows how long we have until the Captain figures out that we’re on our way to the control room. Moral outrage is the luxury of the living.”

“About the Captain,” I ask, resuming my now-familiar place jogging behind Tem with my hand on his back. “What if the Captain is waiting for us at the control room, instead of rushing to the exit to cut us off? Can you fight this enemy, or do we just run?”

“Run,” Tem answers, and then hesitates. “Well, unless I get the perfect ambush. I could probably take one out, but it’s a roll of the dice. And in the meantime, you’ll be an easy target to any other guards around. Are you sure you want to take that risk?”

My silence is enough of an answer as we run through the thick darkness, deeper into the labyrinth. I swear I can almost see Tem’s sardonic smile, even though he’s in front of me and it’s pitch black. We’re both a bit crazy, when it comes right down to it.

Up ahead, the rhythmic sounds of studded boots marching on flagstone echoes through the tunnels. We both come to a halt simultaneously, pressing into the side of the tunnel to stay as unobtrusive as possible. I watch the flicker of amber lights shining through the murky gloom of the labyrinth tunnels, my pulse picking up as I consider that we may soon have a proper fight on our hands.

“Steady lad,” Tem whispers. “I don’t sense any overwhelming presences ahead, so we’re cleared for battle. Ready your spear.” He hands over the weapon, which he’s kept in his strange spatial storage.

“What’s the plan of attack?” I murmur.

“Not much of one. We’ll come in quick and hot, but be prepared in case I can’t dispatch them all before they rally and defend themselves. Use that fancy new weapon—and remember, a spear advances. Sneaking is beneficial, but there’s no room for cowards once we fight.”

I nod, firming up my grip on the haft, and take off at a run to keep up with Tem’s loping, easy pace. His blade is drawn, and in the faint illumination from the lights ahead, his brown eyes glint with the intoxicating anticipation of violence.

We round the bend, and both of us lunge in unison at the still unsuspecting guards. Our blades pierce through the necks of the warped, vaguely humanoid figures. Gurgling, they fall to the ground, and I stare down at their strange forms illuminated by the flickering lantern hanging on the wall of the tunnel. They only share general similarities to the wraiths we fought outside of the Rift, but their forms are far more corporal. They’re each more distinct, looking like individuals rather than mindless monsters. The thick, goopy ichor oozing from their open wounds clumps up on the ground, rather than pooling or flowing like blood.

“Focus, Nuri. Let’s move quick now,” Tem says. “Four more guards up ahead; take them out, and then we’ll breach the gates.”

I flick my spear clear of the corrosive, black blood, and follow close behind Tem in as fast of a run as I can manage in a half crouch. This time, our approach is less stealthy despite our best efforts, and panicked shouts in an unknown, whistling tongue tongue reach my ears before we turn around the next bend in the tunnels.

A wall greets us—a long, bulky series of overlapping, black-lacquered shields edged in gold. Glittering silver and gold eyes peer over the top of the shields, between the narrow slits of their winged black helmets. Two have swords, and two axes, and they stand in perfect formation to stymie our advance.

“Stay back,” Tem commands, lunging forward towards the defensive line. Just before he reaches the range of their swords and axes, Tem’s form flickers, disappearing entirely from my senses, mana or otherwise. With a brilliant burst of disorienting light, he reappears behind them, his enchanted blade whispering death as it slices through the air.

Two of the void soldiers fall to the ground like marionettes whose strings have been cut, but the other two whirl around faster than I anticipate. Screaming in their sibilant speech, they launch a ferocious counter assault, forcing Tem backward as he staggers under the weight of repeated blows from the heavy axe. The void monster wields its weapon with brutal aggression, but Tem deflects the sweeping strikes that otherwise will lay open his rib cage.

With deadly grace, he quick-steps back at an angle, his enchanted sword moving like an eel darting at its prey. His sheer economy of form as he parries and pushes attacks off center is mesmerizing, but I shake off the hypnotic, lethal beauty of the fight and take advantage of the opening he’s created in their defenses. I rush forward, stabbing at the exposed back of the nearest wraith.

The spearhead slips through the scaled armor on its back, but my angle is all wrong. My stab scores a shallow slice, then skitters off to the side. The soldier spins around, shrieking as it raises its axe overhead, and I leap away just in time to avoid certain death.

Tem’s warning about mana rings in my ears, and I resist the temptation to draw deeply on my Skill to freeze its arms so it can’t swing at me. My arms are trembling with a potent blend of fear and adrenaline as I lift the weapon and threaten the enemy soldier’s midline. I don’t know anything about wraith anatomy, but I pray that stabbing center mass is just as deadly against them as it is against humans.

My desperate, fear-fueled thrust goes wide, however, easily batted away by the wraith’s superior training and strength. I probe its defenses, not earning any hits, and commit to a flurry of strikes. The wraith leans away, then darts forward and traps my spear with the wicked hook on the back of its axe. In a blink, it pins the length of the spear haft against its shield, and yanks me forward. I stumble, off balance, and stare up with wide eyes at the wild face of my foe.

I let go of the spear rather than risk getting pulled into range for an axe to the face. The creature blazes with triumph, drops its shield and axe, and snatches up my enchanted spear instead. It rushes forward to end me, then screams as a blade erupts through its chest.

“You’re useful bait,” Tem says by way of acknowledgement, wiping off the sizzling blood on the enemy’s short cape. “Good job surviving.”

“I missed,” I whisper, a sudden flood of shame keeping my voice quiet rather than any pressing need for stealth. I retrieve my spear, examining the tip with a frown. It caught in the wraith’s armor far too quickly for my liking. An enchanted weapon of this caliber should easily shear through any non-enchanted defenses.

Tem shakes his head. “Next time, strike true. You lived. That’s all you need to think about for now. Be grateful.”

A short jog and two turns later, we clash again with another pair of guards. This time, our approach is silent, and we don’t tip them off to our presence until it’s too late for them to react to our ambush. I don’t miss; my spear pierces through the guard’s spine.

Here we go, I think to myself as we reach the studded, blue-steel door. It’s similar to the armory door in design, but easily five times as wide. Several [Soldiers] could march side by side through the archway. I take a deep breath and step forward, placing my hand on the lock, when Tem stops me before I can start the laborious process of freezing my way through the door.

“There's a good chance that the guards have keys on them. I doubt they expect enemy combatants in the heart of their outpost,” Tem says.

I turn to Tem, quirking an eyebrow skeptically. “Doesn’t that seem like poor security?”

Tem shrugs. “They have to get in somehow, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but won't there be someone inside the control room who could open the door for them? Why would they bother to post guards if they have such an obvious vulnerability?” I ask.

“Not necessarily,” Tem says. “It's far more likely that they’ll have a key. If an enemy force made it this far—not a tiny group like the two of us, but a real army—then the wraiths would have long since called for reinforcements.”

I glance both ways, suddenly terrified that an army might pour around the corner and tear us to pieces. “How do we know they didn’t do that already? Why are we wasting time?”

“Doubtful,” Tem says. “I likely would have sensed if they had activated the Skill.”

“Even though they’re not using Mana?” I ask, once again dancing around the issue of his strange use of the void.

“I have my ways,” Tem says mysteriously. “But you’re right; wasting time is a rather poor idea down here. Let’s move faster.”

Despite my skepticism, I dutifully bend down and pat my hands along the fabric and leather clothing, attempting to look through the guard’s pockets only to discover that they don’t actually have pockets. I scrunch up my face at Tem, but he just laughs.

“Where do you think I got the idea for my storage ability? Watch and learn, young man.” Tem places his hand over the wraith’s body, his brow furrowed in concentration. A moment later, several small objects emerge from nowhere, summoned forth from the other creature’s corpse.

“Wait, how?” I demand. “If that spatial manipulation Skill belongs to the wraith, even if it’s some bizarre void Skill, then how can you access it? Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

“All the rules disappear when you’re dead,” Tem grunts. “While the guard was alive? You are correct: there’s no way I can overpower its storage space—although I may have a chance if I ever reach the Third threshold. Now? All bets are off.”

I nudge the items with my foot. “These don’t look like keys.”

“Nah, nothing good here. Let me check the other one.” Tem repeats the same procedure with the other corpse, frowning as he appears to strain. A vein pops out on his forehead, and he crouches down to rest a knee on the ground for stability. “There’s something different about this one. I’m hitting major resistance. Might be a security measure.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, excitement making my voice crack. “Presumably, if this guard is hiding something, then it's probably what we're looking for.”

“It very well could be,” Tem concurs. He concentrates again on drawing out the objects in the wraith’s storage space, and soon produces an oblong metal object that draws my attention like a lodestone draws iron shavings. The key, assuming we’ve found our mark, is smooth and cylindrical, and lacks the teeth of traditional keys, covered instead in intricate golden filigree on a solid black surface. The golden fractals of the cylinder are punctuated at the top and bottom with faintly glowing green symbols—unfamiliar runes that I don’t understand

“Ahhh, now that’s more like it,” Tem says with a tone of pure satisfaction. He rubs his palms together. “With this, we should be able to get in and operate the controls.”

“What was your plan if we never found a key?” I ask, still glancing over my shoulder in fear that a wraith army will march around the corner any second now. “How were we going to get home if we couldn’t work the controls? Your plans aren’t exactly inspiring a ton of confidence at the moment, Tem.”

Tem chuckles and gives a helpless shrug. “Not a problem. We could have used the map to find the right exit. Usually, the Realms are marked accordingly. We wouldn’t want to end up in a different plane, after all. Once we’d memorized the route, I’d burn my second threshold Skill and we’d run like mad. Now, prepare yourself.”

Tem holds the key up to the door. It shimmers once with the glow of some sort of energy that looks almost like the aftereffects of mana, but I can’t sense at all. It’s still the first time that I’ve even noticed any void activation, however, so a thrill of excitement shoots through me. If I can learn [Lesser Manasight], then what’s to stop me from venturing into uncharted territory? Ezio will be so jealous!

The energy fades, and the door swings open, revealing the labyrinth’s control room. Tem leads the way inside, his sword at the ready. The circular room is larger than I ever anticipated, probably fifty paces across. Unlike the rest of the labyrinth, the room is airy and brightly lit, with a spacious ceiling overhead that doesn't feel like it's bearing down on me with the weight of ancient authority. Instead of dark lines of dressed stone, the ceiling disappears into a muted rainbow mist that fuzzes into grey at the edges.

A portal directly into the void realm? I wonder, craning my neck as I take in the rest of the imposing room. The same filigree motif of deep green on black from the key covers the walls, which rise up to meet the ceiling in an unbroken piece. I can’t find a seam or join. The rows of silver work desks are chased in gold—just how wealthy are these creatures? Everything here is stately, beautiful, and sophisticated in a way I never realized wraiths are capable of creating. If they’re not simply mindless monsters, then that means I’ve killed sapient beings.

A single creature turns from a seat at a desk as we burst into the control room, and its silver eyes grow wide as it realizes we’re not other wraiths. The movement is so normal, so human, that my gut clenches. I don’t want to think of myself as a murderer.

Before the wraith technician can react,Tem lurches forward, blade at the ready. To my surprise and relief, he doesn’t attack. Instead, he grips the creature by the collar and holds the edge of the sword against its neck.

An uncomfortable, warbling hum passes between them. My eyes press shut and I sway on my feet as the strange sibilance sends shivers down my spine.

“This wraith will help us escape in exchange for its life,” Tem says, panting from the exertion of maintaining the communication. I marvel at his resilience; if just being in the proximity of the echo of his strange, distorted Skill makes me feel this nauseated, then what kind of backlash is Tem dealing with? Then a thought strikes me, and my fears come rushing back in like the tide.

“Tem? Don't you think it’s odd that there aren’t others here? Why would they leave only a single wraith guarding the entire control room?” I asked.

Tem shrugs, and it strikes me suddenly how refreshing it is to see his movement now that we have light again. I didn’t realize until now how much I’d grown to hate the dark during the last few hours. Days? My entire sense of time is skewed.

“I agree it would behoove us to hurry,” Tem says with a curt nod.

The wraith flits away, clutching his grey robes about his long, slender limbs. He dashes to a glowing set of runes at a central desk, his multi-articulated fingers flowing over the odd swirls and sharp lines of the control runes.

“Stop him!” I yell at Tem, advancing with my spear in hand.

“Peace,” Tem says, catching me by the shoulder and spinning me around. “An oath is struck. The wraith will do as bargained and send us on our way.

“How can you trust that . . . thing?” I protest.

Tem tightens his grip. “Wraiths are people of order, despite what you may have heard about the void.”

I snort. “The ones we fought outside sure didn’t seem like it.”

“There are differences,” Tem allows. “I don’t have a full answer for you, although I have my suspicions. But they follow laws, and oaths are binding.”

“But how? Chaos doesn’t give rise to order,” I point out skeptically.

“Call it a defense against chaos, then, but they won’t break their word. An [Accord] has been consecrated and the payment—” his voice falters, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “The payment, as required, has been rendered. We will not be betrayed.”

Tem’s voice hums with an overtone of power. I take a breath to ask more questions, but my skin prickles and my tongue feels swollen, like I used too much mana even though I haven’t released my hold on my mana pool. A binding oath, enforced by the void, perhaps?

I file away the clue for later. Ezio will want to hear all about this phenomenon. If he likes studying artificial aspects, then he might flip over an alternative source of energy. Who wouldn’t want to wield the power of the void?

As I watch the wraith—this strange, alien existence that’s both the cause of fear and our hope of returning home—something Tem said niggles at the back of my mind. What does he mean when he says that the payment is rendered? I swallow uncomfortably. Is there a hidden downside to using the void?

After all, power always comes at a cost.