Chapter 16 - Accident

Kreacher’s paws hit the steps with the silence only a body of their weight could produce. The place was dark, stinky, and held that agonizingly humid air they had only ever found in the sewers after heavy rain – but it was the stage their mission would, perhaps, be completed.

Basements were uncommon around Crystalia, especially in the Inner City where a mistake in the digging process could see one’s house flooded by sewage water, plus… they tended to get hot, so it was an oddity this place even existed in the first place. Kreacher tried to think of another building they had seen that shared the same architectural implement, but the collective mind came short.

Well – not completely.

They knew the temple to The Endless Abyss was also built underground, with only their entrance visible on the surface – but much like Alis’s [Chapel], the builders, or maybe the Faithful, had mastered ways to make it a living space as comfortable as any high-cost inn. Even better in some aspects, as Bel-Alis still praised the temple’s beds to this day when she woke up grumpy and sore from the thin mattress she had.

Nevertheless, what made this particular basement so distinct wasn’t the number of crates bursting with processed leather, or the wine bottles and scurrying rats that made their claws flex against the wood. No, what made it worth observing was the people.

Two of them Kreacher had followed from the Tearful Woman’s Church after they had left apparently between the guards’ shift. The cat had seen when they both left their temple unnoticed, one trailing the other like a silent giant.

The other two, however, only appeared when the time was right. Kreacher had waited for almost fifteen minutes, the first duo standing in silence within the barely illuminated basement – only staring at the sigil in one of the walls for entertainment.

Not a sigil, in fact. Kreacher had walked around some of the crates as stealthily as they could to try and see the drawing better, but they didn’t need their eyes to understand what it was. Kreacher had felt a similar energy to the one around the drawing for months, ever since they had gone through their Shaping and learned the sensation of the different energies in the world. And this one tasted like Bel-Alis’s. The austere and deep faith they could feel when the Priestess used her Abilities or lost herself to the long bouts of studying.

This was one of the sigils. Divine Runes.

They had only seen one of them before. The Divine Rune of The Endless Abyss – a pair of almost parallel arrows inclined towards a spiral in the center. A play of unending perspective that stung the eyes if seen for too long. A word with little meaning to most people, but that said everything that needed to be said to others.

Kreacher stared at the drawing and their mind began to slowly process the differences. Not because they were similar, oh no, but because it was hard to look at the Rune – so packed with mana and faith as it was. It glowed with an azure and silver light that made their new feline heart ache, a star plucked from the night sky and used as paint for a drawing.

It had a center; Kreacher could see that, at the very least. But that was not the last they saw, for it was easy to see the Rune and only the Rune.

It had a center. It was the center. Kreacher looked at the blue and silver tear falling from the wall as if it were a window, the droplet slowly traveling through the atmosphere as if the air was denser than they remembered.

In the middle of its journey, the tear split. It grew, like strings or chains or vines or misery, spreading from one drop of rain to another and another and another.

It sought connection. It wanted them to feel. It whispered, a choked, sobbing whisper.

“SUFFER AS I DO.”

Kreacher felt the tendril of sadness – that rivulet of aching chests and empty souls – reaching for them and shaping a connection and making them despair and cry and grieve and mourn and…

The connection faltered. Someone new was in the basement – and they caused a ruckus enough with the rumbling thunder to distract Kreacher and allow them to spin enough Blight to rot that flimsy tendril from the Rune.

Although it took another two of their bodies to keep the effects from coming back. Now that Kreacher had seen the Divine Rune, its insidious energy kept on trying to latch onto their core.

Fur standing in fright, the kitten took a second to recompose itself, strangling the meow that wanted to rise from their throat with a strength derived from the fear of being found out. It was enough to open their eyes and look at the new arrivals, though Kreacher still shook as they observed.

In the end, there were only four of them. Two, wearing the same snout-shaped helmet and silver armor that were the mark of the Crying Hounds – the Tearful Woman’s loyal paladins and more… bellic half of her congregation. The other two looked much more like the usual inhabitants of the city.

They wore shirts and pants, made of cloth and suspended or adorned with leather harnesses – Kracher wasn’t quite sure why they were there, but they were fairly certain the leather strips were not, in fact, belts – and sandals. Those were tied in a spiral shape that reached their knees, ending with a complicated knot.

One of them, the female one that had just arrived alongside a new Hound, had an oiled leather overcoat over her shoulders – which wasn’t enough to deter the constant pouring from the small rain cloud that drifted over her head.

The other priest Kreacher had followed had no magical rain over his shoulders, much to Kreacher’s disappointment, but he did carry a staff. A simple thing made of brown wood and topped with small bells that produced a constant dripping sound of unseen liquid.

Unfortunately to the lurking cat, as most people do, they began with small talk instead of getting to the meat of the conversation. The man spoke first, holding his staff at the side and making the bells chime with the movement.

“I’ve always thought it weird that you’d have such an affinity for the Rain, Mintra. Considering your upbringing, I’d have assumed Water itself would be more… present in your Path.”

“Hmm? Ah, but there’s such beauty to it, Filineu. Especially on the coast. Have you ever tasted a storm while lost in the sea? The way it envelops you, that… expanse of gray sky and turbulent waters. It's divine, really.”

Mintra talked and had to constantly let the water that entered her open mouth drizzle down her chin. She looked used to it, in Kreacher’s eyes, but they couldn’t help but imagine how annoying it must be at times – though the woman looked perfectly comfortable.

“I haven’t had the opportunity, no. Do you find it tasteful, then? I must admit, it seems complicated to encounter nourishment with such… specific preferences.”

“Oh, not at all! You folk are always so gripped with the emotional side of things that forget how incredibly simple drowning is at times. And eating? Well, I’ve taken some time to travel to Belphegor these past years and it was marvelous for my diet.”

“Through the Mirrors? I’ve heard they’ve opened a way to one of the Sulphrite Realms.”

The woman shivered exaggeratedly. Filineu watched the motion with an arched brow and a small smile.

“By the blue, no! How could I ever afford that? No, no. I used the common method, of course. A good old boat, filled with eager sailors. Oh, how they fought the storm! I must say – I was quite full when I reached port.”

He laughed at that. A booming sound that came from deep within his chest. Mintra couldn’t help herself and joined in with a smirk, elbowing the silent Hound at her side while wiggling her eyebrows. Whoever it was under that helmet didn’t look that impressed, however.

Kreacher continued to observe – shakes giving way to perfect stillness as they calmed down completely – behind one of the crates. They even smelled the now wet garbage within the room – Kreacher’s mouth salivating with instincts remnant of their more omnivorous bodies.

From here, though, under the light from the small window on the top side of the basement and trying hard to ignore the piercing azure and silver from the Divine Rune, Kreacher could see a little more detail about who they were following. Filineu was graying – heavily. His hair was thin and dry, the ends sticking at odd angles like old, pale straw.

His skin was saggy and pale as well; yellowish, in fact, as if he had been abed until recently. For a second, Kreacher could swear he saw the man’s face wriggle like a wave, the eyes moving too high on the forehead by a wave of skin and muscle before they settled back in their original place.

Kreacher wasn’t sure it had really happened until they noticed the silence. Mintra was staring, painedly, as Filineu brought up a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed at it. The blood had no viscosity to it, and quickly flowed to the floor.

The half-elf sighed, her dark skin and curly hair glued to her scalp as she shook her head – and then tsked in disapproval.

“It was such a risky move, old friend. Now, look at you… I’ve been doing this from the start of the Path, but you? You should have kept yourself happy with what you got, Filineu.”

The man got agitated now, Kreacher could almost taste the small burst of indignation – the chime of the bells rang a little louder for a second, but quickly settled back into that now familiar pit-patter in the background.

“It’s easy for you to say it, Mintra… but I still have work to do. I can feel it in my bones! Look at how many I’ve gotten already – ready for her to take. And the boy could be the key!”

“Ha! You talk as if she’s a vessel to The Envious Coin. Also, don’t pretend you did that for her. We both know your plan had absolutely no place inside her interests. She has already won here in Asden. She got what she needed.”

Filineu disagreed vehemently, shaking his head while trying to make his point through.

“But she can take more! The amount of loss possible here would make it work, Mintra – I’m certain of it.”

“I doubt that, Filineu. Do you think Asden is the only place that has war? Grief? There are other, more suitable places for us to build upon. Plus, this… backwater queendom is marked already. The others won’t be able to make a move in here as well. We won, old friend!”

Mintra held Filineu’s hand, smiling at him while getting his sleeves wet by the rainwater. His face, however, was grim.

“We can do better, though. Her mark already being here only corroborates my ideas. Imagine if we had a place like The Great Hunt or The Twisted Ways! Don’t you wonder how much it would please her?!”

He was frantic now. A type of mania that leaked onto his voice. Mintra took a step back, her eyes narrowing and long ears twitching – but Filineu was certain now. He could make things better.

“You talk of creating such places, but you’ve never been to one, have you? Oh, stories aren’t the best way to translate what they are, old friend. If you knew what you were talking about – really knew it – you’d know not to joke around about that.”

“A joke?! Do you take me for a fool, Mintra? I’m as much of a Cardinal as you are, and I share the vision and Path. Do not patronize me!”

The woman cleared her throat, and the cloud on top of her head darkened for a moment before resettling into the light gray of a lightly pouring sky.

“Sorry. Still… I stand corrected, Filineu. You didn’t even ensure the Unseen Eye was unaware of your plans! I could ask for someone to divine this location and they’d do it in a heartbeat. No fancy training needed even.”

Mintra scoffed, lightly, with pity perhaps. She couldn’t help it and Kreacher saw Filineu’s neck veins bulge in anger. The woman wrung her hair from some of the rainwater and delivered the final message.

“In the end, she does not require your assistance, and you mustn’t keep your work. Cease it. Immediately.”

The ultimatum came like a lightning bolt, figuratively and literally as the cloud fizzled with branching electricity. Filineu restrained himself from lashing out with all the effort in his body, tense like a snake.

“Was that an order, Mintra?”

His teeth ached, brushing against each other as the Cardinal spat the words. Now it was the woman’s time to narrow her eyes, and the Hound at her side – that silent shadow that almost reached the ceiling – moved his arm towards the sword on his waist.

“It was. It is. Her Holiness has seen more value in our position in Asden as it is. You are to cease your experimentations, Filineu. Immediately.

The silence extended between them, the man considering the words – quietly swallowing them, digesting every letter so slowly that it felt almost voyeuristic for Kreacher to watch. When the sentence settled in Filineu’s stomach and brain, they swore they could hear a chime.

“... so be it. Let Her Holiness not doubt my devotion. I shall – deal with the aftermath.”

“Good. We are done, for now, Filineu. Please, do not do this again. Forgetting we are also subjects can be a deadly mistake in our Path.”

Mintra clapped. Twice. And the sound came muffled and awkward from her wet hands. Kreacher managed to catch a glimpse of her disappointed pout before she sighed.

It took but a moment for her to reach out and fade into the air like a cloud under the boiling sun, taking her silent guard with her.

Kreacher chose that moment to leave, before whatever anger they could see in Filineu’s twisted face and boiling skin could explode. If he was a Cardinal, then there was nothing Kreacher could do to stop the destruction he could cause.

***

May’s steps echoed loudly over the open stairwell. Hers and Bel-Alis’s in fact – Kreacher was… well, quiet as a mouse.

Visibly, the Priestess seemed to be the one leading their small entourage down into the dungeon, but that was because one of Kreacher’s bodies was so ahead of them they had vanished into the open floor.

The creature had tried to send its pigeon body first – unwilling to move from the nestled position they had found among May’s hair – but Bel-Alis had denied the plan. Apparently, the Quartzite Bats would attack other flying creatures within their domain – something involving air current and a lengthy explanation from Alis that had May dozing off.

Compromising, Kreacher asked May to untangle that amphibious body she carried around her belt, and a frog became their main scout. An adorable prospect to all but May, who had grown a particular dislike for the creatures.

“Do you see anything, Kreacher?”

“More of the same. Moles and bats. Nothing new.”

Bel-Alis stopped for a second to hear the quick report, sighing in relief at the lack of any significant change in the dungeon’s layout. May was inclined to feel the same way – her plans, the few she had made, would lack in efficacy if the knowledge she used to make them turned out to be obsolete.

“Maybe these… rumbles Mirn heard about didn’t affect the first floors? It’s not like we know if they even are changing anything. Maybe they are just tremors.”

“We can certainly hope, May. Though if the Guild forbade the low ranks… well, let’s pray it doesn’t turn out as dangerous as she made it sound. Mirn can be pretty intense at times.”

They allowed the conversation to die down, prizing the tense silence that surrounded them. As May walked deeper into the Mausoleum, her eyes comfortable with the purple light that came from the torches, she began to slowly compare what she saw to her memories, fragmented as they were before she awoke.

Few were the opportunities she had to be underground, and even Bel-Alis’ [Chapel] didn’t go as far down as the stairs seemed to take her.

So she focused on the steps. Not because they seemed important, but because they were new in a way that most things were to May.

Hewn rock. That’s what they were made of and she only knew the name because Kreacher kept mumbling the words like some children’s songs from around her neck.

The stone was gray, not so different from the color she had seen in Blaze Graywing’s coffin – although it was harder to notice it exactly when the purple flames from the torches shed their light onto the steps, coloring everything in otherworldly violet hues.

Violet and… something else. A color that lived in the core of the flames. May stopped to stare at one of the torches for a moment.

“You found anything, youngster?”

The lizard turned their hazy eyes towards where May looked, Kreacher unfocusing from whatever distraction had kept them silent as she walked these final steps.

“Just… can you see that as well? There’s something in the flame. Something red, I think.”

“Hmm, can’t say we’ve seen it before. But we also didn’t pay that much attention to things with the adventurers around so…”

May nodded, understanding but still as she looked into the fire. Kreacher turned out with a suggestion.

“You could ask Alis, you know? She probably knows what that is.”

“There’s… no need. I don’t want to bother her.”

The lizard narrowed their eyes, the parasitic mind behind them always so observant.

“You don’t want to bother her or do you fear asking her something simple?”

May froze. Her body was still under the correct impression Kreacher had of her – reverting to the state where she was most comfortable.

Nail. Head.

She ignored the whispers but knew what they meant. And it stung in a small way. May couldn’t help but deeply consider what to tell Kreacher: would this be a pivotal moment in their relationship? Would honesty make them closer to each other? Or would she meet only chagrin and more jokes from the annoying hive mind?

Control purred inside her core, the truth shaking enough to startle the chain residing inside May’s Truth – and a decision was made.

“No. Not that. I just know Alis isn’t here to answer all my questions – some things I should learn by myself.”

It was a truth. Definitely.

Kreacher managed to narrow their reptilian eyes, the horizontally-closing eyelids almost reaching each other in an unnatural way that bordered the animal kingdom’s uncanny valley. If there ever was one.

The duo maintained the tense stare until Kreacher retreated, laying their head on her shoulder once more.

“Whatever. Poke us when we reach the first floor. Something interesting is happening outside.”

“Should I be concerned?”

The lizard looked at May and they knew exactly how to make her anger surge, for their eyes were filled with pity.

She couldn’t tell if Kreacher was doing it on purpose.

“Not much you can do about it, is there? Just – focus on the Shaping for now. We’ll deal with it later.”

May huffed in return, her expression angry to hide the way it had stung to hear that. A conscious decision on her part – and a small benefit of Control she had been tasting more and more.

In silence, May refused to let herself wallow too much in her wounded pride, choosing to distract herself with whatever her mind could produce.

And yet, the new conundrum she faced made it hard to find that distraction.

The voices, her always-present companions, were now quieter than they had ever been. Not even the dozen of voices that served as mouthpieces for their ideas seemed inclined to test her waters too much – aware of what May could and would do if she ended up seeing them as anything but helpful assistants.

Kreacher, the annoying pest that they were, seemed absent to the world, eyes closed and scaled chest still.

And Alis, the only other person she could talk with, seemed to trust enough on the safety of the stairs – of May and Kreacher’s capabilities – to go far ahead of them, leaving the duo behind and only taking Kreacher’s pigeon body on her shoulder.

And so, May felt a new kind of loneliness – one she hadn’t tasted before with a mind as full as she had always had. The loneliness one could only feel when surrounded by people. That lack of a place and uncertainty about where you now fit in that led to silence and spiraling.

May hated it. More than frogs. More than that Sopan that turned her into a useless doll with his aura alone. More than…

Her weakness when the lions ripped Hector’s throat out.

The living doll stopped. Quiet.

Then it burst inside her, an explosion that made her Truth burn in an effort to Control the seething rage May felt. It was wrath enough to shake her consciousness, and the whispers trembled as her attention turned to them.

“Say it again! SAY IT AGAIN, I DARE YOU!”

What. Talking. About?

Their words came with a shiver, a dozen voices at the forefront reflecting the position of the ones deep into her mind; they formed a pile, mounting each other while puffing the night sky that surrounded them. But the stars winked out and reappeared, like constantly blinking eyes.

They were scared.

“I know it’s my fault! But I couldn’t move! I couldn’t move…”

May’s inner monologue began to fade, the memory overlapping her rage. Anger was one of her more common reactions, she knew that, but her connection to Hector was much more important.

Her Truth latched onto that spark of sadness, the chain inside her core coiling around itself in a fearful response as Control began to reign in May’s emotional response.

The sadness grew and waned, leaving her feeling spent.

“Don’t talk about that again.”

The words came from her fleshy lips, and May hugged her true body so close to her chest it hurt. Kreacher gave no reaction but now May barely paid them any mind.

Fleeing down the stairs, the whispers kept to their silence – unsure if prodding would elicit another violent response.

By the time May began to focus back from her constant, mechanical movements down the steps, Alis had already been waiting for them inside the first room of the Mausoleum – standing with her cane like a host to a party.

The Priestess extended a hand, taking May’s stoic face in but ignoring it in favor of the natural wonders of the place. The pigeon on her shoulder slept – or at least seemed to, much like the lizard around May’s very neck – but the scouting frog that was one Kreacher’s body remained attentive to their surroundings.

“Welcome to the Mausoleum of Gems! Properly – because, you know, despite the surface area being considered part of the dungeon, I’m personally against the naming convention Asdenians use. I do believe a proper review of the name should be done.”

“Focus, Alis. And quietly. There are some of the bats here.”

“Right, right.”

May let the usual back and forth between Alis and Kreacher wash over her, the surprising ordinary dialogue serving as the last step she needed to fully immerse back from that out-of-body feeling.

Her first impression of the place was the sudden knowledge that the drawings on the maps couldn’t have made the place justice. Oh, rationally May understood that the cheap work wouldn’t be the most accurate of depictions, so she had her mind ready for whatever was down here.

May, however, didn’t expect the sight to break her porcelain façade.

Crystalia. That was the name of the city they were in. And though it had received such a denomination, May hadn’t seen a proper, naturally growing – or perhaps mana-grown – crystal.

But here they were. In all their brilliant, wondrous glory. Perfect structures carved using those odd patterns reality seemed so fond of – but only in a few of them.

These colorful, many times iridescent, constructs rose and fell from between stalactites and stalagmites. Many times in small clumps that lined the gray stone walls with their soft pinks and blues. Others grew as tall as a man, a pillar of white and opaque quartz with an impressively carved look.

Most impressive, however, were the veils. Crystals that hung from the ceiling, no wider than the piece of paper May’s maps were drawn on, waved between the stones like a dancer. They were long enough in parts to almost reach her head, but in others, they were short enough to let Bel-Alis’ tall stature pass through unimpeded.

These gigantic sheets of crystal also had another detail. They lacked color. Were it not for the way they weren’t as smooth as the windows May saw in the Inner City, she might have confused them for glass.

And yet, certain properties were similar between the materials. That odd mix of reflection and see-through, the way it warped her body… the semblance only stopped when you considered the patterns.

Octagons that would require a master glassblower – or at least a Gifted one – to make, formed these veils. Natural pieces perfectly aligned and fitted in the oddest display of gravity May had ever seen.

Mostly because nothing was connecting these octagonal patches of crystal to each other.

Her eyes left the reflection of hers and Alis and Kreacher’s multiple twisted faces and distinguished a detail her mind had passed through. Two of them, in fact.

The first one was a part of the wondrous scene composition that served as that final detail one would only realize existed after it was gone. Moss, iridescent and silver, grew along the walls, the ceilings, the jagged protrusions of gray stone… It lurked between the crystals – a type of life so beautiful and yet so strong, for among the barely three centimeters tall stalks, was a fuzz made of sharp mirror shards, reflecting the room with their tiny, tiny individual surfaces.

At some parts, at least. In others, where the stalks of the Mirror Moss were taller and the fuzz grew thick enough to completely dominate the stone surface they grew upon, May’s expectations were broken by the true effect mana could have.

If before, the individual shards reflected each their own image, in these more… developed patches, each strand of the reflective surface was a piece of a puzzle – forming an almost seamless reflection of what was against them, were it not for the small flowers that grew among them.

And they were pretty. They were so marvelous to look at, with their tiny petals and hollowed core and salivating mouths, May couldn’t help but take a step closer towards her reflection – the only thing that could be seen on the surface of the mirror. Just a step closer…

Bel-Alis tugged on her backpack before she could act upon the thought, and the daze broke itself as May blinked her human eyes. The flowers closed once more now that she broke their simple spell.

“Uh-oh. No going to the murderous moss, May. Even if it’s pretty.”

The girl shivered once inside her armor, disgusted by the intrusion. Kreacher’s frog body licked their own eyeball while their mouth stretched into that trickster’s smile they usually had on their faces.

“What… was that? The books didn’t warn about the Mirror Moss being anything but a simple plant!”

“Someone didn't do their homework correctly, Alis. Could you please enlighten our youngster?”

The Priestess turned to the frog before May reacted to the commentary.

“No need to be sassy, Kreacher. And it’s my fault, May, not yours. I… might have forgotten to give you some updates on the information the book had – but please don’t be angry, I really didn’t do it on purpose.”

The news threw May on a loop. Suddenly, her confidence in the plans she had made was… a lot less than she would have enjoyed having.

“It’s – It’s fine, Alis. But what happened to the moss? And what else changed from the book?”

Bel-Alis waved her hands around, the pigeon on her shoulder falling from its perch much to Kreacher’s chagrin.

“Nothing changed much. I mean, the traps are the same, and the rooms are the same… but there might be a few more creatures in some of the areas? Maybe?”

Scratching her bald head with the point of her cane, Bel-Alis looked truly apologetic, though her guilty smile made May very not-impressed – and she ensured her face reflected that.

Still, the doll sighed in resignation.

“Do you remember the changes? Yes? Good, you’ll tell me about them later. I’ll try to review my plans.”

Alis quickly promised to do so, and even if Kreacher made a side comment over the efficacy of May’s plans, she didn’t let it bother her much. In fact, May felt not all was lost. She still had some Control.

May knew her Truth would painfully let her know otherwise.

Bel-Alis cleared her throat before throwing herself at the explanation.

“About the Moss… well, remember how I told you about things accumulating mana over time? How all things could do it naturally, yada-yada-yada? Well, the Mirror Moss around here finally reached their First Grade – a century and a half ago, maybe? Anyways, they evolved, they grew, and now they’re a little omnivorous. At least some of it is.”

“So now it can charm things? Like some kind of… I don’t know, witch?”

“Well, that too. The flowers are the ones able to do that in fact. Much more importantly, however, is that their mirrors can now be used as divination magic conduits! Isn’t that exciting?”

May didn’t know how to respond to that, and Kreacher was too busy tending to their avian body that now lay sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t see the Quartzalite Bats though. Or the Silica Moles.”

“The moles won’t show up here. They are in other rooms. And the Bats, well, just look up.”

“What? But I didn’t see anything– Oh. Oh.”

There they were. That second detail. Camouflaged among the Mirror Moss that grew on the ceiling, their upside-down bodies hanging from the ceiling in perfect stillness. But that wasn’t what made May unable to see them the first time.

Quartzalite Bats, apparently, received their name because of their claws made of crystal and the quartz growing from the top of their ears. Opaque and multicolored, it wasn’t difficult to lose sight of their tiny bodies when they looked no different from a normal cluster of crystals.

“Huh. That’s… impressive. Are they sleeping?”

“Maybe? That’s why we need to be careful when walking around this first room. No traps in it, but a swarm of these things can give someone some nasty cuts.”

“All right then. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Bel-Alis bit her lower lip, falling into silence, and May immediately knew there was something else to the situation.

“What is it, Alis? What are you not telling me?”

“W-well, you see, we still have to kill one of them.”

May stopped, agog, and pointed a finger towards the ceiling. She couldn’t be certain she heard it correctly, but the possibility the words were indeed right made her eyes widen.

“You want to kill one of them. You’re telling me… we are going to wake up a particularly sensible creature and kill it, while others are sleeping beside it?”

The last words came out as a hiss, and the Priestess tried to placate May. Kreacher’s sleeping bodies finally awoke, allowing the frog to silently resume its scouting.

“Ah, I told you so. Telling her first would be a lot easier.”

Bel-Alis shot the pigeon a sharp look before craning her neck to let it land on her shoulder once again. The animal pecked its feathers in an instinctual attempt to preen itself up, completely ignoring the way its commentary had soured the atmosphere.

“We’ll make it work, May. I’m sure of it. It doesn’t have to be here, here. And we really do need to kill them. You see, the Shard of Reality needs simple ingredients to be made. It’s just that they need to be… varied.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, looking at the Priestess before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t lose her temper. She needed this connection. And May could tell Alis was… more distracted than the other people she had met.

Though those were quite a few. And most were children, which are definitely not a good parameter for any kind of statistic involving attention span. So maybe Alis was normal?

No. Different. Sharp. Dull. Both.

The voices seemed to find enough courage within themselves to finally comment on May’s thoughts. She promptly ignored them, of course.

“Could you please explain things, Alis. I feel we’re losing too much time and I need to know what we are doing here. Especially because it involves me. So I’d very much appreciate the heads-up”

May’s first attempt at not snapping at another could have gone better, but it did the trick – because Bel-Alis, powerful Priestess of History that she is, for the first time didn’t retreat from her.

The woman actually looked chastised. May couldn’t help but compare herself to Lady Sbertha complaining with a young Hector about proper decorum.

Oddly, the thought both made her nostalgic and sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps the Royal Tutor’s presence still remained in May even if they had never interacted directly. But that’s how it usually went for powerful women.

They lasted.

Quietly, Bel-Alis softly hit the ground with her cane, and the [Field of Silence] expanded with a mumbled call from the Priestess. The woman sighed and relented.

“Um, of course. Sorry, May. Well, you see, the Shard of Reality is a simple ingredient to be made. Actually, not an ingredient, think of it more like a catalyst – something used to focus energy. It has to be of simple making because it should be accessible to all Gifted. So all you need… is blood.”

May didn’t falter at the idea, much to Kreacher’s disappointment. They kind of expected her to somehow back up with the notion, but… well, May was a hunter. Had always been a hunter ever since she woke up in that hidden alley.

Silently, she only hoped she wouldn’t have to drink the blood. If it got old it would get all chunky and weird and that was disgusting to swallow.

“All right… is that why you bought those vials from Mirn? To collect the blood?”

“Oh, um, yes actually. I didn’t expect you to remember. You see, to make a Shard you need ten different types of blood…”

“Stop. Ten or nine plus one?”

Tilting her head – to the opposite side to where the pigeon was perched at – Alis took the question with mild surprise. She thought it over and realized it didn’t matter.

“Both? It’s inconsequential, May. The ‘nine plus one’ thing is just an old way of reading patterns. Mystical, in a way, but unimportant…”

Incorrect.

May withheld her judgment and walked around one of the stalagmites – the wide base peppered with Mirror Moss that reflected multiple versions of her. They kept on walking and chatting, a way of doing things that May realized she was comfortable with.

“Anyway, you need ten types, right? The only problem is that they have to be from a Gifted, Faithful, or an Arcane Creature.”

“Why not Sorcerers? Aren’t they part of this whole… Path thing as well?”

“Well, yes, but their blood doesn’t work. Some people think it’s because they don’t really have a fundamental base for their powers, but I can explain that later. For now, you just need to know that we need ten types. Me, Kreacher, and – of course – you, make three of them, so we need another seven.”

The girl grasped the situation, waving her metal claws in the air while nodding. Alis let her finish the thought, as usual.

“So we’re here because of the Shaping, the Altar, and the Creatures. Huh. Those are a lot of kills with a single move.”

The Priestess smiled at that, and May could see that sharp mind underneath the absentminded usualness. It only lasted for a second though, as Kreacher quickly pecked Alis’ bald head on the grounds that “she was being weird again.”

“Hmph. The best moves are those with multiple outcomes, May. And yes, by the time we reach the fifth floor and find the Altar, we should have already met all the creatures we needed to. There are two of them around us right now, already.”

Ingenious. Clever. Impressive.

Silently agreeing, May continued her walk to the end of the room. The [Field of Silence] emanating from around Bel-Alis cane followed their every footstep, making the trip through the trapless grounds a lot easier without the sudden fear of waking the Quartzalite Bats up.

That was, of course, until the bolt flew straight beside May’s head and hit one of the thin, thin veils of crystal. The magically-possible geological formation exploded in a million shards, traveling far enough to pepper May’s leather armor with their sharp points and iridescent dust, though she felt nothing but a few dull thumps on her back.

Alis’s enchantments worked perfectly. Praise be Hector and his crown.

“Uh oh.”

A soft exclamation sounded from the lizard around her neck, and the iguana – wisely – jumped down her shoulders and away from the claws that were already traveling to meet its neck.

Kreacher found haven between Alis’s legs, who now sported a gray bleeding scratch on her brow – courtesy of an errant shard.

“KREACHER! I’ll eat you, you little pest! What in the Hells have you done?!”

“No time for that! Look!”

The fungal hivemind explained with such intensity that made both May and Bel-Alis turn. The flurry of wings opening and uncurling, the sound of sharp quartz hitting the stalactites as the bats woke up groggily from their sleep, and then their eyes. White, milky orbs so large and so obviously blind May couldn’t help but consider them a waste of space.

“Oh. Oh no.”

Bel-Alis took a step back, her shadowy sockets so wide at the sight that May worried she would pull a muscle on her forehead. The gray blood dripped from her wound without affecting her sight, but that mattered not.

Because soon, the screeching began.

***

The Tyranny of Numbers.

That’s what May thought about as she fled from the unending wave of flesh-eating screeching bats and their very, very sharp ears. Not with that exact name, of course, but the concept behind it was the same.

In the core of her sudden inspiration towards quick, dissociative philosophy, was one question: how many expendable bodies can you throw at someone before they collapse, regardless of their strength? How many ants are required to make a titan fall?

Before her Gift came to her, May could probably have dealt with three of these bats at the same time. Transformed? Maybe a dozen and a half if she had open space and was willing to support the cuts and bruises.

Bel-Alis, by her desperation-filled estimations, could maybe stop a small tide of Quartzalite Bats herself. Her domain over earth, enchantment, and divination magic was a supplement to the Priestess’s tough constitution. In fact, May wouldn’t be surprised if Alis took less wounds than her.

The doll had seen how well the Priestess could take a beating, and the woman was as sturdy as stone.

Kreacher? Now, that was a wildcard. They could maybe stop a lesser tide with only their Abilities, throwing poisonous spore clouds around for the bats to dive into and choke to death. And when coupled with his innate capabilities and transformation? Small critters were something Kreacher was almost designed to deal with.

But all these thoughts were background. An adrenaline delirium that came to May’s mind as she fearlessly ran away from the wave of tiny bodies, dodging the stalagmites, crystal veils, and falling stalactites. The cursed bats kept hitting them in their mad flight and they broke as easily as one would expect of a rock as thin as a pen.

Though not all of them were touched.

May could almost see the door now. She wasn’t far from it, just a couple of mad dashes and more cutting at those cursed patches of overgrown moss that kept trying to rob her attention and she would be safe. They would all be safe…

The girl stopped, doll in one hand, and turned around. A creeping thought had wormed itself into her mind and now she had to see – because in all the time May had known Alis, during their fights and walks, the limping woman never ran.

Watching Bel-Alis try to quickly limp away from the pestering bats, their screeches making the woman’s ears bleed and their claws attacking her bald head like a storm of vultures was a thing of nightmares. Kreacher, brave or mad – she couldn’t tell – kept blasting poisonous spores after poisonous spores at the closest creatures, but the time needed for them to choke in it would be enough for Alis to be fully mangled.

May needed to do something, but her Abilities weren’t suited for this. [Telepath’s Box] was already doing the best it could by keeping her fears far, far away. [Skin Walking], her second wish, was utterly useless right now. And [Puppeteer’s Strings] wasn’t strong enough to stop this.

Or help Alis.

“Kreacher! Ask your Gift!”

She shouted – betting on the memory of something the lizard had talked about before they left the [Chapel] – and letting her true body fall to the ground, prompting her [Strings] into existence. The whispers, quietly, convened among themselves for a plan, but May already had something she thought might help.

Looking upwards, she found it in a stalactite on her right side. Still untouched, though it reflected the mayhem to almost perfection.

“I’m gonna need you to snap me out of it if it doesn’t work,”

The questioning expression May got as a response would have to do as a positive answer.

Noticing the five strands of a single hand wouldn’t be enough, May let all ten of her [Strings] tie themselves together, coiling around each other like a rope.

Alis had already managed to form a dome of stone over her head, covering her own body and landlocking herself and Iguana-Kreacher in the meantime. She was safe, for now, but Kreacher’s fight against the coming tide was growing more and more desperate – to the point May saw them use Bel-Alis’s earthy cocoon as a barrier and hiding spot.

Still, it would not hold forever. Although they were simple beasts, Quartzalite Bats had an amazing hearing, and they could hear the Priestess’s pulsing hearts from within the barrier – so they threw themselves against it, mad for prey and the tasty meal that had been so scarce these past times. Every time their fast bodies or sharp ears hit the stone with strength enough to pierce it Alis would quickly reconstruct it.

But that was unsustainable, and May was betting on the creature’s viciousness winning over the Priestess’s magic.

So, with a rope growing from her fingers and stopping May from using her hands while trying to fend off the few bats that still came for her movements, May tried her plan.

It was circumstantial. Designed to go wrong. But when you had [Strings] able to divert in mid-air and follow your very orders, mad moves were just a tad bit easier to be betted on.

May spun around herself like a dancer, spinning that long, long rope around her body as it stretched in the air. The buildup was slow, and she could see Pigeon-Kreacher back into the thick of the fight already, but the time bought was enough.

“ALIS! GET READY!”

May shouted as loudly as she managed to, hoping her loud warning was enough to surpass the screeching creatures – or that at least Kreacher had heard it and could convey the message – because May suddenly stopped spinning and all that energy lashed out of her rope, uncoiling itself like a snake as it followed their owner’s instructions to a letter. The sudden whip hit the stalactite perfectly, the long spike falling from the tall ceiling to the floor.

And why did she do it?

Because May had a sudden realization that all that moss she had seen? It grew facing the same direction. And that direction was now filled with flying bats, ready to be charmed.

As the evolved Mirror Moss fell from the ceiling, the fuzzy moss and flowers – for just a moment – opened themselves to reflect every single one of the bats. They stopped as the entrancing maws released their adoration into their brains and…

“NOW!”

The earth dome exploded outwards, shards of thick rock flying like shrapnel and clearing the area around Bel-Alis’s defenses with the sheer force of the explosion coupled with the deadly debris. More veils fell to the floor, but they were just more to the count by now.

Bel-Alis immediately began her mad, limping sprint again, fleeing as best as she could as Kreacher’s pigeon body took flight once more. Straight into one of the bats.

The avian had been mangled badly by the explosion – a shard of rock having caved their fragile and hollow ribs inwards – but Kreacher’s dominion was large enough to maintain the body working for a while longer.

With the bats distracted and wounded, Kreacher finally managed to grab a hold of one of them with their beak, piercing the skin of the bat with strength arising from their unnatural ways. Below, the lizard spoke new words of power as it tried to run.

“[Fungus: Berserker’s Rage]”

The process was slow, and painful to watch, as Kreacher’s white fungal body entered the bat’s own and deposited the new, magical spores within the wound.

It took but a moment for the creature to begin mutating, its eyes bulging wildly and the screech coming from it hitting a pitch high enough to become inaudible. Soon, the bat was once more among its brethren, diving into the tide with the madness and bloodlust caused by the circulating spores within its body.

Able to infect all the others.

It was quick. It was bloody. And with Bel-Alis now reaching May with an entire wave of stone following her footsteps and protecting her tall body, it was the best solution.

They would all agree, were it not for the fact that both of Kreacher’s bodies had stayed behind. By the time they had realized only the frog version of Kreacher was around, their expression exhausted and drained, Bel-Alis had already blocked the entrance to the first corridor.

For all intents and purposes, May had to say, this was an awful beginning.