They returned back to the boat at a run, clambering aboard in a state of tense panic. Becenti didn’t bother untying it from the small shrine they had moored it to - instead, forming a knife out of heat, he swiped at the rope, cutting it clean, cauterizing it with a single stroke. The rope snapped, trailing like a tail as Ichabod turned on the boat’s motor. Soon, they were cutting across the once-calm waters, the dark noise of adrenaline pumping in their hearts.

“Right,” Becenti said into the communicator, “We know where they are. We know where we're going. We'll cut them off.”

“You're not the most combat-heavy team, Myron,” Wakeling said, “Be careful.”

Becenti glanced at his team. Ichabod was already loading his two pistols, his sneer and what was left of his good cheer gone, replaced by a somber glare. Contort was stretching himself as Dama Runebreaker cracked her knuckles. Nova trailed behind them like a neon cloud, sparkling and crackling.

“We'll be enough,” Contort said, “You aren't joining the show, Wakeling?”

“I'm only a head right now, Arne,” Wakeling's voice was bitter, “I left the rest at home.”

“It's fine, Vyde,” Becenti said, “We'll take care of this.”

“Do so,” Wakeling said, “We've already lost our client and five of our finest. I'm not about to lose more.”

Contort winced at the reminder.

“They can't be dead,” Contort said, “Didn't hear Phin back there, and Rosemary's tough.”

“Assume the worst,” Ichabod said.

“Joseph's a damn metahuman,” Contort said.

“You heard him scream,” Ichabod countered.

“They can't be dead!” Contort snarled.

“That's enough!” Becenti snapped. Contort stopped, his eyes mutinous and bloodshot.

All of them were looking at him now. Inwardly, Becenti squirmed. He had never liked this, being the center of attention, the one everyone looked up to in these times. He had played the hero enough, hadn't he? Been the soldier, played the game.

Nonetheless.

“We can't think about such things now,” he stated, “Keep your heads up, your eyes forward. Good chance we're about to see Sunala's attendants now. We're friends. Guildmates. We need to be in this together.”

He gave a glance to Ichabod and Contort.

“Right?”

“...Right,” Contort said.

“Fine,” Ichabod said.

“Good,” Becenti turned back to survey what was around them, “Now, by my calculations, we'll be meeting their boat in the middle of the water.”

“Any idea what we're up against?” Ichabod said, “They took Nash's team out pretty damn quick.”

“They said this was their birthright,” Dama Runebreaker said.

“Metahumans,” Becenti said, “We're facing metahumans, ladies and gentlemen. That could mean anything.”

He felt his insides shrivel. They had been taken completely by surprise. What had been an easy-going trek through a dead place had suddenly become a game of strategy and maneuvering. The kind with few pieces, too. Every move they made counted.

They were going to make or break here.

“Broon,” Becenti said into his communicator, “I'm keeping our comms up when we meet the attendants.”

“What even were their names...?” Broon said.

“Spinlock, I believe. Nelthel's the thin one,” Becenti replied, “They're metahumans, Broon. And we don't know their abilities.”

“In the dark,” Broon said.

“Remember back on Kaleidos?” Becenti said, “Grindstone.”

“That rock-throwing guy,” Broon said, “We spent almost a week studying his abilities.”

“Every metapower has a limitation,” Becenti said, “Something that can be used against it. With no heat, my power is useless, for example.”

“Once we got Grindstone into the air, he was easy pickings,” Broon said.

“Precisely,” Becenti said.

“We don't have a week, Myron,” Ichabod interrupted.

“I know,” Becenti said, “But Broon, I'm keeping this thing on. Listen to our fight. Try to pick anything up.”

“...Right,” Broon said, “Alright. We're getting things together over here. In case you go down.”

“Good luck, Myron,” Ezel said, her voice a bit far away.

“And you, Ms. Atalar,” Becenti said. He turned to the rest of the group, “Suggestions?”

“We're on the water,” Ichabod said, “Most of this fight's going to be long-range.”

“Nova's a good shot,” Dama Runebreaker said, “Ichabod, give me a pistol.”

“No,” Ichabod said.

“Ms. Runebreaker,” Becenti said, “Guide the boat as close to theirs as you can. When we close enough, jump on.”

“Got it,” Dama Runebreaker said.

“Easy,” Contort said.

“The rest of us provide long-range support,” Becenti said. He took out his heatstone, switching it on. Warmth spread through his hand. Uncomfortable warmth – Becenti was never quite used to the feeling. Yet he began shaping it into a series of javelins that he laid beside him, willed to physical form through his power alone, shapeshifted mirages that shimmered and wavered in vague, spear-shaped outlines.

“And if we lose?” Contort said.

“The communicator's on,” Becenti said, “Broon'll hear us. Hopefully he'll get enough info that he can find out the attendants' abilities.”

“We're the sacrificial lambs,” Ichabod said.

“In a worst case scenario, yes,” Becenti replied.

Ichabod finished polishing one of his pistols, flipping the safety off with a lazy click.

“Always assume the worst.”

***

It took them a while to pull the corpse free.

Past the fact that she had multiple plasma burns riddling her body, the metahuman had drowned. A large portion of her robe had been caught between two rocks, presumably during the city's sinking thousands of years before. Too weakened by the rather large holes in her body, she had struggled for who knows how long before losing consciousness, the ocean doing the rest.

A horrible way to go. Phineas couldn't imagine it. Once again, he marveled at the absurdity of humanoids and their inability to breathe underwater. Gluh was good company, at least, the zombie taking out a knife and cutting at the robe. He wasn't the most dexterous of individuals, and his cut through the robe to pull the body free was jagged and clumsy, but it got the job done. He finished up, tearing cloth free, the metahuman now free-floating as Gluh gingerly lifted her upwards. His thin legs reminded Phineas of stickbugs as he kicked them up, making his way through the dark waters back to the bedchambers. Phineas followed.

Neither said a word.

***

“You heard him,” Broon said, “All of you, I want options.”

“This room's small,” Meleko said, “Especially with this big telescope in the way.”

“Perhaps the room outside?” Heyma said.

“...Aye, that should work,” Broon said, “Let's go.”

“Standard practice,” Ezel said as she strode forward to open the door, “Don't look.”

The world tipped back over, from upright to sideways, dizzying and odd in the transition, gravity shifting from the floor to the wall as they stepped through. The floor before the observatory had been tall, its weight almost entirely supported by a statue of none other than Iresine, hands grasping the ceiling and holding it as though it were the sky, blood flowing free from his palms and running down his arms, lovingly, painstakingly carved to be as realistic as possible, all in a shining marble relief. Once, small islands representing each of the cities of Chliofrond had floated around him, this great idol of history standing tall as an opus of the kingdom.

But with the fall of the city also held the fall of much of the figure's splendor. The islands had crashed into the water and now floated, domes of cracked marble partially engulfed by the shallow salt water pool. The landing leading to the observatory was tucked away to the side, an almost-hidden alcove with but a single ladder to climb for potential stargazers. As such, it was now underwater, an oddity to their feet as they waded into the drink. The water went up to their waists, and was oddly warm.

“Lots to work with,” Mallory said.

“It's still difficult to control,” Ezel said, “We'll need to be quick if we want to use it – I'm already exhausted as it is.”

“Rest, then,” Broon said. He stepped onto one of the small marble islands, extending out a hand to her. The demigod took it and rose out of the water, sitting down and taking a deep breath. Broon just noticed a slight twitch to her hand. The tension was getting to her.

“This is a good a place as any,” Meleko said, “Plenty of good points for an ambush. Lots of room.”

“We won't know for sure until...” Broon didn't finish that sentence. He turned back to the group.

“Mallory,” he said, “Keep yourself near the back. If they get through us, you lock yourself in the observatory, fill it to the top with steam.”

“Going to need water for that,” Mallory said, “And salt isn't good.”

Broon grimaced, “Right then, everyone. Time to share.”

The half-orc unleashed his water skin. Meleko his thermos, Ezel her sticker-covered bottle. Mallory took out all three.

“I'm not going to drink for a second,” she said, “It makes me want to pee.”

“Let's see what happens with Becenti's group,” Broon said, “Hopefully Myron pulls a win from the hat.”

They looked at one another, none of them daring to speak the alternative.

In the darkness, the statue of Iresine stared at them from above. Unmoving. Uncaring.

***

“They'll be at each other at any moment now,” Tek reported.

Wakeling grimaced, “And the others...?”

“We don't know,” Tek said, “But the metahuman magic around that area might be disrupting the scanners.”

Wakeling was quiet.

“I should have realized,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Barbara said, “No way we could have known.”

“I should have run background checks on those attendants,” the guildmaster said, “I should have been prepared for something like this. Brought an arm. A leg. Anything.”

“Becenti will take care of it,” Tek said, wool-covered eyes never straying from the scanner array, “He's tough. Ichabod is, too. Nova's a war veteran. And if they don't have it, Broon's team will.”

“Tek, you're sure you heard Lady Sunala among them?” Wakeling said, “Her... screaming?”

“It's recorded and everything,” Tek said, “I can... No, I don't think you want to hear that.”

“I don't,” Wakeling said, “But you heard them?”

The mound nodded.

“Then we have to assume these attendants are working on their own,” Wakeling stated, “It doesn't make sense for Sunala to betray us – not like this.”

“Tactically, makes no sense,” Tek agreed, “Not logical. Hrm...”

“What is it?” Wakeling asked.

Tek brought a horn-like claw up to his face, adjusting his spectacles.

“Nothing much, just a thought came to me. Our scanners are... disrupted, shall we say, by the metahuman magic that permeates the city Nash and the others were in.”

“Tek, we're a bit busy here,” Barbara said.

“I know, but it's interesting,” Tek said, “If our scanners can't get through to Nash, then what's to say they can't get through elsewhere?”

“An interesting thought,” Wakeling said, “Keep it in mind. We've work to do, people. Record every bit of what's about to happen. Get it to Broon. Prepare ourselves, if somehow those attendants get through them.”

She chewed the inside of her mouth. Silently, Wakeling hoped – prayed, even, which she hadn't done in quite a long time – that Tek was right. That Nash's team was alright. That they were somehow alive. And that Becenti would flay those attendants alive.

***

Joseph awoke in agony.

He was unsure when he had slipped into unconsciousness. But as he looked down the length of his body, as his eyes widened with realization and shock, he wasn't surprised.

His body was contorted. Twisted like a rag, his legs askew and bent like noodles, his ribcage jutting upwards at the top, then downward. His arms had been wrapped around his body and were held firm by... something within him. Rosemary, Nash, and Sunala were much the same – and from the twisted looks on their faces, he assumed they felt much like he did.

Joseph's soul was thundering through his body, but it was a disjointed circuit. It was used to a regular human form, not this twisted abomination he had been forced into. Somewhere it had broken, and all it could do was line from his stomach to his legs, stopping somewhere in his chest.

He let out a low, whistling moan, his whine sounding oddly like a flute as he breathed in, breathed out. He wasn't sure how he was still alive, but he was. Just barely, though, and he could feel a darkness overtaking his vision that wasn't exactly comforting. A deep sleep, a great blanket that hung just over his body, waiting for him to slip away before smothering him completely.

The flopping sounds of Phineas's feet slapping on the ground brought him to. The Deep One and Gluh had returned from their journey. Phineas let out a horrid, swallowing gasp before running over to Joseph.

“Joseph!” he yelped, “Joseph! Oh no, oh no no no-”

He began hyperventilating, sucking in deep breaths and almost vomiting them out, a rapid percussion that stank of raw fish. Gluh shambled over and flopped a hand on the Deep One's shoulder. Phineas looked over to it, grabbing it for comfort, as he brought out his great tome and laid it out beside Joseph's prone form.

“I am sorry, Joseph. Rosemary. Nash,” Phineas said, “L-Lady Sunala. I am so sorry. I should have been here. Where are Spinlock and Nelthel?”

“Gluhh.”

Phineas took in the zombie's words. Then nodded, a grim air overtaking his panic. He flipped through the tome, eyes darting from page to page, before he paused at a chapter.

“I can reverse it,” he said, “But-”

“Gluhh.”

“I know!” Phineas rasped, “First, though, we need to be able to breathe. One moment.”

He scratched off a few of his scales, wincing as he did so as some of them were still firmly coated to his skin, drips of black, inky blood splattering on the ground. He whispered a few words of power.

Then his voice was once more layered by something deeper in reality, like a dark voice was rising from the depths of a bottomless sea. Joseph's skin crawled.

And then, with a series of small pops, his body began sliding back into place, his bones cracking, pain firing up and down his body with each bone's resettling. The rest of the party began recovering as well – Sunala stood upright as her spine shifted back from where it had been jutting out, Rosemary's arms snapped into place. They all began to breathe again, the pain dulling, relief flooding through their bodies.

And then the water began rushing in. The entire city shook.

Nash, rubbing their wrists (which had only recently been turned in the other direction) winced and wheezed out, “Phin, what did you do?”

“Reversed the metapower,” Phineas said, “But it is like an axe. Not a blade. Not precise.”

The water seized around them, bubbles appearing over their heads. But they could not stop the force as the deluge engulfed the entire bedchamber. Joseph found himself thrown against the wall, feeling the force of the ocean all around him. For a moment, he thought that he would break, that something would slam into him and wipe away his world. Those pieces of furniture not bolted to the ground swirled around the room like a whirlpool.

And then things settled – a bit, at least, as Joseph found himself pressed against the ceiling. The rest of the party was, too.

“Phin!” Nash's voice was distorted from the bubble around their head, “Phin, what did you do?”

“Like an axe!” Phineas said, “I could not control the spell! Had to revert all of you! Reverted all metapower in the room, in this city!”

“Which means whatever was keeping this city afloat expired!” Sunala said, “We're sinking!”

***

“Vyde,” Tek said, “You're going to want to see this.”

“What's going on?” Wakeling asked.

“The city,” Tek said, “It's sinking.”

Wakeling went pale.

“Which one?”

“Nash's,” Tek reported.

“No, no, no!” Wakeling snarled, “Barbara! Get me out there!”

The toucan alighted, claws reaching down to snatch the guildmaster up, the two of them sailing high on deadened winds. Far below, the northern city that Nash had gone to was slowly sinking into the water, statues and buildings breaking and splintering from the force, the water churning milk white.

“Scan it!” Wakeling roared, “Scan it!”

“Nothing!” Tek said, “There's-”

His voice caught.

“I see them! They're still there! They're-”

The city continued its slow plummet into the depths. Wakeling's eyes were wild as she scanned it, willing any magic in her body, any at all, to find them. Find her guildmates, her family-

“They're gone,” Tek said, “Either they've hit another zone of metahuman magic, or-”

“Don't,” Wakeling said, “Don't, Teknogan.”

The mound was quiet. Far below, the last point of the city, the very top of the tallest tower, a spiraling, shell-like observatory, sunk into the silence.

“Keep scanning for them,” Wakeling said, “If Phineas does any more dispelling, then we should be able to detect them.”

“Right,” Tek said.

“Vyde.”

Becenti's voice crackled to life in her mind.

“Myron,” Wakeling said.

“We're about to meet the attendants.”

It was all going to hell. Wakeling bit down her panic and hysteria.

“Good luck, Myron. If it gets too hairy, pull out. That's an order.”

“Right,” Becenti said, “Will keep that in mind.”

***

Far below, the boat containing the attendants cut through the calm waters. It was entirely controlled by the larger of the two, who was now applying patches to his bare arms, letting the chemicals stored in them to suffuse through his body. Artificial steroids to increase his strength. He had discarded the royal orange robes of the Scuttleway servant, as had his brother. The two were wearing tactical gear underneath. Not their usual style, but the job today was more important than their usual theatrics.

“Brain,” the attendant masquerading as Nelthel said, “It appears we have interceptors.”

“Not surprised,” Brain said. The mountain of a man squinted his small, beady eyes, “Looks like... Shimmer's with 'em, Bone.”

“Good, two birds, I suppose,” Bone said, “Remember, like we practiced.”

They had brought with them quite a few large boulders from the city where they had left the twisted forms of Rhyde's team. Pieces of temple, a statue's head, a couple of broken pillars. They trailed in the water behind them, held in place only by Brain's vast telekinetic power.

“Fire 'em, Brain,” Bone said.

“Right.”

The head shot out of the water, arcing upwards, her calm face belying the fact that she was the opening shot in a more dangerous game.

***

“Above!” Ichabod said.

The boat swerved to the side, ripples trailing behind as it arced, a great sploosh signaling the attendants' play. Nova curved to the other side, the cloud of plasma sparking and powering up. The attendants were pushing past the horizon, a small dot that was growing closer and closer. Spinlock and Nelthel had discarded their robes and were wearing modern body armor.

“Prime,” Becenti said, “Perhaps.”

“Like it matters,” Ichabod said.

Nova fired off. Arrows of plasma lanced through the sky, rocketing towards the small boat. Spinlock brought out a hand. A broken, jagged mass of pillar breached the water like a white whale, shielding the attendants, plasma splashing against its side. The pillar cracked, pieces sloughing off and firing off individually at the elemental, who bobbed and weaved to avoid the storm of stone.

“Keep away!” Becenti ordered, “One of them's a psychic!”

Contort nodded, jackknifing their boat and jetting away from the attendants. Ichabod took aim, firing potshots from his twin pistols, harsh pops ringing over the din of the motorboat's engine. Becenti took a deep breath, concentrating as he took one of his heat-created javelins, resting one foot on the lip motorboat's gunwale. He launched the javelin with the skill and poise of an Olympian, the spear flying towards the attendants, spurned on by his own power over heat.

***

“Brother!” Bone called out, “Shimmer fires!”

Brain brought a hand, swiping it in front of him. The heat javelin sparked off to the side, sizzling into the water, a gout of steam erupting where it fell.

“I can lift it!” Brain said, “The game is in our favor!”

He sloped his arm down, bringing it upwards in an underhanded arc, as though he were tossing a softball. Slicing through the water came the other broken pillar, which launched itself as a much larger answer to Becenti's javelin.

***

“Hold on!” Contort said. He cranked the motorboat's handle all the way to the side, gritting his teeth as the rest of the team gripped the boat’s side. The wind sailed around them, whipping into a frenzy before going ice-cold as the pillar plunged into the depths behind them, freshwater spray spewing out, a false rainfall that chilled the world. For a moment, the resulting bulging sea threatened to capsize them before the motorboat righted itself, continuing its cut through the ocean.

Still dancing in the wind, Nova crackled up another volley, letting it loose as a wave of light, a midday aurora borealis that whispered towards Spinlock and Nelthel. Once more, Spinlock gestured, bringing up a large hunk of ruin to bear to shield them from the blow-

Only to find as Nova thundered downwards, skimming across the water towards them.

“Bone!” Spinlock roared.

Nelthel – Bone, nodded, extending out a hand. He grimaced as his skin peeled back – he always hated that feeling – and loose cuttings of his finger bones shredded and fired off. They sponged Nova, who reeled as they cut through him like hundreds of small knives.

“Nova!” Contort screamed, “No!”

The elemental hung in the air, thankfully, spasming and popping as he levitated himself upwards and away from the battle. The attendants let him be.

“Stay down, Nova,” Becenti said.

Nova pulsed red, then blue. Affirmation of his retreat.

“Keep pace with them,” Becenti ordered, “We appear to be at an impasse.”

Contort nodded, throttling the handle, the engine roaring as he sped up to match the attendants' speed. Bone was staring at them from across the water, nursing his hand, which was slicked with red. A dour expression was painted on his face, sharp enough that Becenti could just make it out in the distance.

***

The city hit the deep. A great rumble echoed out as it did so, cracking up the firmament and shaking the tallest tower. Had they still been in the royal chambers, they would have been crushed as the bottom layer of the city buckled beneath itself, plumes of stone and silt and marble pumping outwards in brown clouds that covered the algae light of the plane’s bottom.

No, instead Phineas had used his magic to help maneuver them out of the city’s base, back up to the central tower, towards the crossroads at the tower's base. He had expanded their air bubbles, combining them together, the group of them moving as one through the maze of hallways and rooms that patchworked through the city's underground.

“Right on through,” Nash said, “We'll make it up to the tower and get back to the surface. Then we can warn Wakeling and the others.”

“Right,” Rosemary said.

The going was slow – partially because they had to stick close together, mostly because the spell was having a dark effect on Phineas. He plopped along behind them, gasping and wheezing, the air bubble expanding and retracting in time with his breath. Eventually, Joseph's eagle pulled itself out of his back and scooped the Deep One into its arms.

“MVP here, Phin,” Joseph said, “Keep at it.”

They all felt the collision between the city and the base of the plane as it rattled the world, muted and dim and far too close for their liking. Joseph gritted his teeth.

“Glad we're not down there,” Rosemary commented.

“All the more reason to get out,” Nash said, “Let's just be ready for a long swim. Phineas, especially.”

“I... will... be... fine...” Phineas said.

The Far Traveler cast a concerned glance back at the Deep One, but said nothing. Sunala stood apart from the group – or as apart as one could be, pressed up against one another. She had hardly spoken after their leaving of the bedchambers, the full weight of the attendants' betrayal sinking in.

“How long were they working for you?” Joseph said as they made their way up a small stairwell.

“Six months,” Sunala said.

“And they hadn't given any indication of anything?” Rosemary said.

“No, they hadn't,” Sunala said, “I could call them friends, even. Nelthel liked poetry. Orcish arts. Opera. Spinlock... he was an odd one. But he was kind.”

“They must've been planning this for months,” Nash said.

“Evidently,” Sunala said, “This expedition has been formulating for over a year, now. Either they caught wind, or someone in my court slipped up.”

“Any idea who they're working for?” Rosemary asked.

“A guild?” Joseph said.

“Guilds usually go for the quick work,” Sunala said, “Unless it's a long-term defensive contract to guard something, the jobs they do are fleeting.”

“Something that's gone on this long, must be some third party,” Nash said, “They exist. Multi-planar entities. Feds don't like 'em, but if they're recognized as an advanced plane...”

“Then they can meddle like the big boys,” Joseph said.

“Precisely,” Sunala said, “This... It hurts, though. They were kind...”

“They were quiet,” Joseph said, “Didn't say a word.”

“Maybe they felt guilty,” Rosemary said.

“...They turned us inside out, Rosemary,” Joseph said.

“I mean, yeah,” Rosemary said, “But they didn’t kill us. We’re all alive, right? What Spinlock did, he could've gone for the throat there.”

Nash was quiet for a moment, then admitted, “Yeah, that's true.”

“Whatever the case, they're gone now,” Sunala said, “Let us hope that the others are at least aware of these... turn of events.”

“Hopefully they caught the last of our screams just as the communicator went out,” Nash said, “That'd be warning enough.”

“Charming,” Joseph said.

***

Their predicament became more dire as they made their way through the final hallway. The open doorway into the base of the tower was completely blocked off by stone and ruin.

“I could dig us out,” Joseph said, “I've got the claws.”

“Do so,” Nash said.

Joseph laid Phineas down and made his way to the edge of the bubble. He brought out a tentative, electrical hand, the entire eagle shuddering with a nervous anticipation. He removed a bit of rubble, shoveling it out of the way with the soul's great claws.

As he did so, a claw brushed outside of the spell's range. Joseph winced as the entire soul lost its form for a brief moment.

“Concentrate,” he told himself, “Come on.”

He willed his bird back into being.

“Are you alright?” Rosemary asked.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “Learn something new, I guess. Soul doesn't like water.”

“It is made out of electricity,” Sunala said, “I've observed lightning elementals have the same weaknesses.”

“You're saying my soul's some kind of elemental, now?” Joseph said, scooping away a bit more rubble.

“I am curious,” Sunala said, “If someone else possessed the same power as you, would it be an eagle? One made of electricity?”

Joseph stopped, turning to the elf.

“Maybe. I don't know. I haven't given it much thought.”

He resumed shoveling.

“Wonder what mine would be,” Rosemary said, “I'd like a great big rose, maybe. To match my scepter.”

“Why the eagle, Joseph?” Nash asked.

“Dunno.”

“The electricity?”

“Dunno,” Joseph repeated, “Though, people always said my Nai Nai was like a thunderstorm. I can see that...”

The soul continued its shoveling, but more and more as Phineas's breath became shallower, the air bubble became smaller. Joseph's soul broke back into his body as he manifested only its arms, continuing the work.

“We don't have much time,” he said.

“Agreed,” Sunala said, “The sooner we get to the surface, the better.”

But after another ten minutes of tense waiting and movement, Joseph found he wasn't making as much headway as he thought.

“I... I think we're buried,” he said, “The bottom of the tower's completely buried.”

“Shit,” Nash said, “Shit, I had hoped not. Alright, Joe, stop digging.”

They thought for a moment.

“We're completely swamped in, then,” they said.

“Perhaps,” Sunala said, “Or perhaps there are other exits.”

“Phineas, you can stop the spell you're using,” Nash said, “Just the bubbles around our heads, now.”

“Right...” Phineas said. He gestured, and the air pocket receded, ending as small whispers around each of their heads. Nash nodded to the rest of the group and began swimming back. The rest of the team followed them, weaving back through the dark hallways and abandoned bedrooms.

And then they went down another staircase. It curled downwards, spiraling deeper into the complex and leading into the final rooms. These were the quarters of the royal guard, their weapons long discarded, the only evidence of these rooms' roles being the harsh, jagged symbols carved into the stonework of the place.

Nash glanced around while they looked inside. Then, they gave a sigh.

“Alright,” they said, “Anyone have any idea of what to do?”

“Gluhh.”

“Not helping, Gluh,” Rosemary chided.

“There's got to be an exit we missed,” Nash said, “A hallway. A room. Something.”

Nash glanced at Phineas, who was breathing slowly now, his eyes closed in utter concentration. Sunala floated gently behind him as she looked at Nash expectantly. For a moment, Nash glared at her. Wanted to throttle her for getting them into this mess. But the last thing they needed was one of their number going off the handle, and it couldn’t be them. Not one everyone was looking at them for answers.

“Come on, guys,” Nash said, “Anything? Anything at all? Rosemary?”

Joseph and Rosemary were looking at one another, complete loss written on their faces. Rosemary twisted the hem of her cloak. Joseph’s hands were shoved in his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking.

“...I have my scepter,” Rosemary said after a second, “It's got enough charge to do... something, I don't know.”

“Keep it in mind, we're not desperate just yet,” Sunala said, “A tool to be used.”

She drifted over to where Gluh was. The zombie had been requisitioned with dragging the two bodies behind him, having saved them during the escape from the royal bedroom. He let out a groan at the noblewoman's approach, lumbering away as she took stock of the second corpse, that of the woman.

“Mr. Phineas,” Sunala said, “Can you tell me what exactly was happening to the body when you found her?”

The Deep One rattled himself out of his exhausted stupor.

“She was,” he rasped, “She was caught between two stones.”

“Had she been swimming out there?” Sunala prodded.

“I assume so,” Phineas said, “Or, as much as one could swim. She was full of holes.”

“Plasma bolts,” Nash said, “Either from Rend, or during whatever caused Chliofrond to crash.”

“And she was still alive?” Rosemary asked, “Damn.”

“Metahumans are tough,” Nash said, “They don't go down easy.”

“Flattering,” Joseph said, “But she was definitely out there? She didn't die from her wounds, and drifted out of the bedroom?”

“Perhaps,” Phineas said.

“I doubt it,” Sunala said. The elf was reached into the woman's robes, “This wasn't your average metahuman. I recognize her from a couple portraits that I requisitioned from the Silver Eye.”

“Portraits?” Rosemary asked.

“Wanted posters, actually,” Sunala said, “From one of the Archive Worlds in the Inner Core. Images and holograms from thousands of years ago.”

“And you're just mentioning this now?” Nash growled.

“We've been rather busy,” Sunala said.

She found what she was looking for, apparently, drawing from the corpse a small box.

“Damaged,” she said, “But not enough to ruin its contents. Her powers would have dispersed with Mr. Phineas's spell.”

“What is it?” Joseph asked.

“It's a journal, of a sort,” Sunala said, “Waterproof, fortunately.”

She clicked a button on the side of the box, and a hologram lit up the world, neon green that made Joseph's eyes whine in the sudden bright light. Language floated above the journal, which Sunala squinted at, translating in her head. It was metahuman – that, Joseph was sure of. But he wasn't sure what variation. Or what it said.

Didn't know anything about it, really.

“Interesting,” she said.

“So...” Rosemary glanced at the body, “Who was this?”

“Her name was...” Sunala was lost in reading.

“...Milady?” Rosemary said. Their voices were still echoing and distant from Phineas's airbubbles.

“Oh,” Sunala said, “Yes! Forgive me. This woman here was Chronilock. She was a guardian.”

“Of what?” Rosemary asked.

“Of...” Sunala sighed.

Something wasn't quite right. Joseph

Joseph's eyes narrowed. Something turned in his stomach.

“Yeah, of what?” he asked.

“She was a guardian,” Sunala finished.

Joseph bit the inside of his lip. A familiar, stormy feeling was brewing in his chest. In his stomach. His soul was beginning to spark through his system – which was dangerous, being underwater. He knew this.

And yet.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not buying that,” Joseph stated.

“You must,” Sunala said.

“No, I'm not,” Joseph replied, “Sorry. But no deal. Chronilock was a guardian, sure. I can buy that. But of what?”

“Mr. Zheng,” Sunala said.

“Watch it, Joe,” Nash's voice was half-hearted.

“We just nearly died out there,” Joseph said, “Spinlock just twisted us into pretzels like it was no big deal, then said something about getting their birthright.”

He took a deep breath. His soul was truly pumping now. He didn't want to get ahead of himself and lose his cool. He needed to be articulate. Forcing down the fear in chest, he continued.

“We're down here because of that, aren't we?” his voice was taut, “Whatever they're after, you're after. And it's big enough that you want to hide it, even from us.”

“They almost died for you,” Nash said, “Sunala, they deserve the truth.”

The Lady Sunala was quiet. Her eyes, which had been burning with a dark sort of fire at Joseph's words, cooled to ice. Her mouth was a thin line.

“Alright,” she said, “Okay. Very well.”

***

The motorboat ran parallel to the attendants, a tense calm fogging over the ocean's surface. The twin boats made their way across silent waters, Broon's city looming in the distance, tilted on its side like the corpse of a giant.

“Better make our play soon,” Ichabod said, “This fight's about to go on land.”

“They'll have more ammunition,” Becenti said.

“We'll be closer to them,” Contort said, “Dama Runebreaker and I can get in easier.”

“Maybe,” Becenti said.

He glanced towards the city. They were getting close.

The last engagement was about to start.

***

“It is called a Shard of Imagination,” Sunala started.

Phineas let out a gasp that made the air bubbles ripple. Rosemary's eyes widened. Nash gave a dark grimace and looked away.

“A what now?” Joseph asked.

“A slice of creation,” Sunala said, “Just a bit. A sliver. A piece of reality, coalesced into a form we are comfortable with seeing.”

“A dark thing,” Phineas said.

“A powerful thing,” Sunala said, “A Shard of Imagination is pure energy. Pure possibility. Actual, crystallized potential. An abstract thought made into a physical object.”

***

“Brother,” Brain said, “I tire of this Mexican Standoff.”

“As do I,” Bone said.

“Your hand, is it alright?”

Bone glanced down at his hand. He had staunched the bleeding well enough, and he could regenerate the bones rather easily. Skin and blood was another matter – that would take time to heal. As such, he had improvised. Bone now capped his fingertips, ivory white covering pale skin. In his more emo, teenaged years, Bone knew he would have thought that to be rather fucking metal.

“Let's end this game,” Bone said, “We've enough challenges as is.”

“Agreed,” Brain said.

With but a pulse of his mind, the boat began running closer to the Amber Foundation.

***

“And your attendants are after it,” Joseph said.

“Former attendants,” Sunala said.

“I'd hope so,” Nash said.

“Regardless, yes,” Sunala said. She turned away from Joseph, choosing to study the writings in Chronilock's journal. For a few moments, she said nothing, as though she were preparing a speech in her head. A justification. Joseph wasn't sure.

“This entire plane...” the noblewoman said, “The floating cities. The artificial sun. The frozen rooms. They all come from metahuman power and metahuman technology.”

“I kind of assumed that,” Joseph replied.

“You misunderstand,” Sunala said, “Chliofrond disappeared thousands of years ago. Twenty-five thousand, to be exact. Do you realize how long that has to be, for the cities to continue on like this? For time to remain as slow as molasses?”

***

“Shit,” Contort said, “They're getting closer!”

Ichabod pointed his twin pistols and opened fire, a chorus of bangs ringing out harsh and true across the expanse. Spinlock brought up a hand, another wall of stone rising from the sea, water deluging down in a false waterfall.

“To the side!” Becenti ordered.

The motorboat snapped sideways, ringing around the attendants' boats, Contort grimacing as they got closer and closer to their enemies. The stone wall traveled with them, keeping them at bay as they traveled.

“Right,” Becenti whispered, “Alright, then.”

He stood up, once more taking out a javelin and taking aim. The boat drew closer and closer...

***

“You're saying the Shard has something to do with it,” Joseph said.

“Shards empower metahumans,” Sunala said, “Allows them to use their powers on a much larger and deeper scale. Apply it on a level that builds civilizations, Mr. Zheng. All of this, everything you see around you, should have ended long ago. The cities should have sunk. Time should have started moving again, in those rooms. The sun should have blinked out.”

“But they didn't,” Joseph said.

“No, Mr. Zheng, they did not.”

***

Becenti's arm twisted to the side in a series of horrifying cracks. He screamed in agony.

“That's our cue!” Dama Runebreaker roared, “Contort, come on!”

Contort twisted the tiller, the motorboat's engine guzzling into a stirring frenzy as they sped closer and closer to the attendants. Spinlock and Nelthel, surprised at the sudden burst, were slow on the uptake as the motorboat sped by their own canoe. Dama Runebreaker and Contort leaped, landing onboard as Ichabod fell back, holstering his pistols and grabbing the motorboat's tiller, speeding towards the perimeter of Spinlock's estimated perimeter.

***

“There were guardians of this Shard, of course,” Sunala said, “Chliofrond was known to have a line of them. All of them, from the same family line. A tradition in blood, not the meritocratic policies of the other metahuman kingdoms.”

“And Chronilock was one of them?” Rosemary asked.

“The last. Perhaps the greatest,” Sunala said. She spent a few more moments poring through the journal, “She was more than just some guardian hermit. She did more for her kingdom than her ancestors ever did. Did more than previous rulers of Chliofrond, if you can believe that.”

A sad glance to the corpse, then back to reading.

“And she gave it her all by the end of it.”

***

“Brother!” Brain called out.

Bone spun, letting out a gasp as Dama Runebreaker's fist slammed directly into his stomach. The hairs on Contort's arms stood up on end like the quills of a porcupine, one that he swung at Brain. Brain took the shot, squeezing his eyes shut as deep red lines opened across his side.

“B-brother!” he roared.

Bone shot out a hand. Dama Runebreaker collapsed in on herself, letting out a scream as Bone gestured sideways. His power carried her upwards, where she sailed for a few moments before arcing down into the water, landing below in a great splash.

Contort, meanwhile, was going with the flow. His bones snapped and twisted, but a grim, hard smile painted his face.

“This is just Tuesday, pal!” he snarled.

Only for Brain's power to kick in as he telekinetically lifted Contort and sent him sailing after Dama Runebreaker.

***

“Now,” Sunala said, “Ah, here we are. Chronilock herself had multiple projects throughout Chliofrond.”

She stopped the journal's scrolling, the words hanging suspended in the air.

“She describes here using her powers to preserve certain parts of the floating cities,” the noblewoman read, “Her power was that of time.”

“Obviously,” Joseph said.

“She could stop it in localized places,” Sunala said, “Freeze people. Rooms. It was vague, just vague enough for her to twist time for her own means.”

She glanced up at the party.

“Water cannot pass through the door, yet we can, for example.”

“Explains the rooms,” Joseph said, “The bedchamber.”

“The observatory,” Nash said, “Where Broon found the Shard.”

Rosemary paled.

“Broon,” she said, “His team found it...?”

“He'll be fine, Rosemary,” Nash said, “He's fought more than just a couple of loony, glorified butlers.”

“Let us hope so,” Sunala said.

“He's the goddamn Butcher of Evukor,” Nash said.

“I know,” Sunala said, “I was there, too.”

***

With another gesture, the motorboat snarled back as though caught on a line. Ichabod and Becenti braced themselves against the ship's deck, teeth gritting as they felt all forward momentum disappear.

Instead, the boat began swishing back towards Spinlock and Nelthel. The larger of the two's right arm was extended outwards, willing the boat back to him. Ichabod stood back up, aiming his pistols-

And let out a gargled gasp as he clutched his chest. He fell to the ground writhing, a series of small snaps echoing up and down his form. Becenti gritted his teeth, good arm grabbing hold of another heat javelin, only for Nelthel to flick a single finger, and that arm too twisted itself into oblivion, pain shooting up the metahuman's entire body.

“Sorry about that,” Nelthel said, “Seriously, Shimmer. We mean no offense, here.”

“Just a job to do,” Spinlock said. He gestured again, flipping Ichabod out of the boat and far away, the cybernetic man still twisting around his crumpled chest. He splashed into the water in the distance, somewhere Becenti hoped was near Contort.

***

“Chronilock's mission,” Sunala read, “Was to preserve parts of Chliofrond in the event that it would crash and be abandoned.”

She gave a wry smirk at that.

“As museum pieces?” Joseph asked.

“So that metahumans could find them again, re-inhabit them. Allow the cities to be used once more, undamaged by the wearings of time,” Sunala said, “She was a guardian, yes, but let us remember where we found her: Underwater.”

“Drowned,” Phineas said.

“With fifteen bolts through her body,” Sunala said, “I believe she was down there for a reason. She didn't simply fall into the water. She killed Rend, then realized that the rooms below needed to be preserved.”

“And not other parts of the city?” Joseph asked.

“She had fifteen holes in her chest,” Sunala said, “I doubt she was thinking straight. What it does mean is she must have succeeded, as it seems like she was on the way out when the city crashed into the water and caught her in its snarls.”

“You're saying...” Nash's gears began to spin in their head, “You're saying that there are other frozen rooms in the city below us?”

“Directly below us, since the crash,” Sunala said, “And with enough force, we might be able to get to them. And to breathable air.”