The long climb up to the third floor is blissfully free of complications. After our mind-bending, near-death encounter on the second floor, I’ll take any reprieve I can get. Yet something about the climb still eats at me. Eerie stillness settles around us like a heavy cloak, profound and stifling. In a way, it’s almost easier to fight, because then the enemies are visible right in front of me. The perfect dark and the long stairway never seem to end. Not seeing and not knowing? They carry the constant threat of ambush, the fear of what might be.

“Hey, you got anything left for the boss, glass maker?” Nicanor asks, nearly giving me a heart attack when his voice booms next to my ear without warning.

“My name is Nuri,” I snap, stopping myself a second before I unleash a blast of [Vitrification] at the party leader. I grind my teeth, forcing myself to settle down. I hate how rattled I am, but I can’t help it. The [Spear Commander] scared me. I’m annoyed that he sneaked up on me, annoyed that he won’t use my actual name, annoyed that I still can’t seem to win him over—annoyed at everything, it seems. I’ve gotten used to people liking me and coming over to my side once they get to know me. Does this mean I’m less charming than I used to be? Or is he just a tough nut to crack?

He snickers at me. “Well, then, Nuri, do you have enough mana for the next floor, or should we make camp and wait for you to recover before we assault the boss?”

My irritation slowly drains away as I master my breathing. He’s asking a valid question. I’m reacting more unreasonably than I should. Maybe the fire sprites are still messing with my mind. I breathe in slowly and let it out as I count to twenty, taking a long moment to think over his question seriously. “Pretty sure I can handle low level threats. As long as you do the fighting, I can help with utility.”

“Very good. Onward,” Nicanor commands, his tone brooking no dissent. He continues marching upward, but this time his boots thud against each step, marking his ascent.

Annoying, flux-for-brains dog of the military. Someone oughta punch him right in his smirking face. I clench my fist and keep climbing, comforting myself with thoughts of petty vengeance. I sigh. Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, but his brusque, dismissive nature annoys me. Our interactions make me bristle, but I guess he just wanted to make sure that we formulate the proper battle plan for the boss, assuming that the next floor is the last.

I hope it’s the last floor. We’ve been inside the Rift for long enough. For all I know, we’ll be stuck in an endless series of mazes and fights and never get out.

I stamp down that depressing thought. We’ll reach the top soon, based on the mana signature of the Rift core. Even to my blunted and still-recovering senses, it blazes like the noonday sun just above us. Not too much longer now, and we’ll be done with all of this, one way or another.

“You sure you’re all right to keep going, Nuri? I thought that refilling your glass cores takes longer,” Casella says softly. His disembodied voice floats past somewhere from my left; for such a big, powerfully built man, it’s impressive and more than a little intimidating how silently he pads along.

“Usually, it takes me all day,” I admit. “But it’s better in the Rift.”

“Ah. Of course,” he murmurs.

Thanks to the increased mana density of the Rift, mana regeneration is a much smoother process than it is otherwise. I’m able to function more normally. Maybe I should set up shop inside a Rift, I muse. That might help me circumvent my mana issues. Somehow, it doesn’t seem like the most stable place for a studio.

“Heard rumors you could create an external reservoir that’s cheaper and more reliable than mana crystals. Thought it was a bunch of rubbish till now, like the other exaggerated stories about you,” Nicanor says. He snorts. “It’s real, huh? After all the trouble you've caused us, it’s only right that you donate sets for my team. Call it recompense.”

“Donate? As in, give them to you for free? I’m not running a charity!” I grumble.

He grunts. “You’re lucky you’re not rotting in jail after the stunts you pulled. If I were in charge, we’d have scattered your ashes to the winds and already forgotten about you.”

I roll my eyes, even though no one can see me in the dark. I take a moment to calm myself as we climb higher and higher. “You really know how to make friends.”

“Call it what you want. I’m doing you a favor, Nuri. When the other squad leaders see what you can do, they’ll be lining up to buy their own glass cores.”

“Wow, that definitely just sold me on giving away artifacts! Oh, how can I ever thank you for your generosity? I suppose I should be grateful for any advertisement I can get,” I say, not even trying to keep the bite out of my tone.

“Yep. You should.”

A hand on my shoulder stops me before I snarl back at Nicanor in anger. Talking with the [Spear Commander] is like trying to hug a porcupine. Mbukhe speaks to me in a quiet voice that likely only I can hear. “Stop provoking him. Valuable ally. Dangerous enemy.”

I take a deep breath and reset my emotions. The long, exhausting climb in the darkness is playing with my head—I feel like an old sweater coming unraveled at the seams. “I had planned to keep it a secret for a while longer, but now that I'm working with the [Inquisitors] instead of running for my life, I guess we can come to an arrangement.”

Nicanor hums thoughtfully. “Now that's a story I’d like to hear sometime. The chief Inquisitor isn't exactly noted for his leniency. That tells me there's a lot more going on than meets the eye.”

“Yep.”

Nicanor scoffs. “That's it?”

“Trade ya. My tale for my spear.”

“Your spear?” A bit of heat enters his voice. “You talking about my baby right here? Why? You can’t even wield a spear with one hand.”

“Took it from the first Rift I ever entered. It’s got sentimental value to me. And it’s mine by right.”

“Forgot about that. You went in with the Mage Killer, huh? Consorting with traitors and stealing enchanted weapons from an unregistered Rift.” He chuckles darkly. “That definitely set the tone for the rest of your misadventures.”

“Quiet,” Mbukhe hisses. “Core.”

Instantly, we all fall silent. The dangers of the Rift takes precedence over our bickering. The mana signature from just up ahead is burning in my mind like a blast furnace; there’s no question that we’ve almost reached the core.

I lick my suddenly-dry lips. I definitely don’t have enough mana to fuel my Skills for long, since I have to manually refill my glass pseudo cores. I can’t regenerate mana automatically with my glass cores like I could with a normal core, and I lose a lot of efficiency thanks to the leaks in my channels if I try to hold or circulate the mana internally. Still, it’s far easier to harvest mana inside the Rift than it is on the outside. Bringing a backup set of my glass cores would have been ideal, but it’s unfortunately out of the question. I grimace, recalling how I almost killed myself in Melidandri’s workshop due to the dangerous resonance that builds up between too many imbued items in close proximity.

“Weapons at the ready,” Nicanor barks. There’s a faint ringing sound as the spear blade splits the air itself. “I’ll take point. On my mark!”

We follow the sound of his voice as he leads us up the next flight to the third floor. Soon, light illuminates our ascent, spilling out from the familiar doorway of the next floor, and we enter the final floor of the obsidian tower.

Unlike the other two floors in the tower, this chamber is surprisingly small. The far wall and the ceiling are clearly visible. No enemies are in sight. I half expect an entire horde of fire-aspected bears to attack us as soon as we enter the chamber, but an odd and persistent silence greets us instead.

I shuffle sideways as soon as we enter the room, keeping my back pressed against the wall so that nothing can sneak up behind me. Just thinking about a potential ambush makes me shiver. I extend my mana senses, sweeping the chamber in hopes of uncovering some clue about this final challenge. If past experiences with Rifts are any indication, this will be our most difficult encounter.

Yet, so far, there’s nothing to fight. I crouch down and touch the tiles. The floor itself is surprisingly smooth. Tiled in alternating black and white, with three big white squares at the end of the room, it looks like intentional decoration. Did humans create this part of the tower? Or is this the work of the Wraiths? According to Tem, Labyrinths are distinct from Rifts, even if the two intersect frequently within Greater Rifts.

Questions for another time. I squint, studying the three big squares in front of the double doors at the end of the room. They appear to be made up of four of the smaller white tiles in a square. Are the tiles merely decorative? Or is there a function that I’m missing? Following the lead of the [Inquisitors], I cycle some of my remaining mana to my eyes, trying to engage my version of manasight. Wisps of mana rise up from the three larger squares, as though higher energy levels congregate around the tiles in that area. I scratch at my beard absently as I turn the details over in my mind. Definitely not just for show. A trap?

I shake my head a moment later. What’s the point of a trap that announces itself? If I were trying to build a trap, I definitely wouldn’t paint the trigger plates a different color. But if they’re not designed to stop men or monsters from reaching the Rift core, then what’s their real function?

A quick glance at the other three confirms that they’re equally mystified. We’re all looking around the room with suspicion, hoping—and failing—to reveal the secrets of this place. The chamber walls are smooth and unremarkable, comprised of some sort of dark granite that’s been polished until it shines. The walls seamlessly blend into the ceiling, curving to create a lofty dome overhead.

Like metal shavings pulled by a magnet, my gaze is drawn inexorably to an unassuming archway in the wall across from us. A set of curved double doors blocks off the exit. Extreme pulses of mana from the arch signal the presence of the Rift core. It’s got to be just behind the door.

“Trapped?” Nicanor asks Mbukhe.

“Unsure. Nothing sets off alarms.” The slender [Inquisitor] frowns, his eyes narrowing as he turns in a slow circle and studies the space for clues. “There’s something strange going on with the doors. Likely enchanted, but I’m no expert.”

“So. A trap, or a key?” Nicanor casually rests his spear across his shoulders while he considers. A deep scowl creases his craggy face. “I hate puzzles.”

“You have more experience with Rifts than I do,” Mbukhe replies. “But if I were a betting man, I’d put money on a puzzle. I don’t sense danger.”

“I agree with that assessment,” Casella says. He strokes his beard and hums to himself, which makes me wonder if I look as ridiculous as he does while he thinks over the options. He squints at the doorway, as though he's trying to suss out its secrets in the same way that he can view a person's core, and shrugs. “I'd like to take a closer look.”

“Permission granted,” Nicanor says.

Casella summons two of his ethereal chains, ready to restrain any enemies that might appear, and nods curtly. He moves forward in fits and starts, pausing every few steps to inspect the chamber for threats or changes in the mana flow. When his foot touches the third white tiled square, all the soft mage lights in the chamber wink out.

“Don't move,” Mbukhe calls out. “I still don't sense danger, but better to be safe.”

“What's going on? I ask under my breath. I hate feeling so helpless. I'm the worst fighter of the group, I’m low on mana, and now I can't even see what's happening.

Faint azure light blooms in the darkness around Casella. I flinch at first, sure that my big friend is caught in an attack, but I settle back down when I see that he’s holding an artifact that’s generating a mana barrier around him. “I’m going to lift my foot, see if the lights come back on. I think this tile is a pressure plate.”

A second later, the lights flare back to life overhead. Casella shuffles forward onto the neighboring floor tile. His chains flick and writhe around him, ready to intercept an attack, but it never comes. Only the lights change.

“Follow my footsteps exactly. Should be safe,” Casella says, calling over his shoulder. He doesn’t release the shield, however.

I think I might feel better if he did.

We tiptoe our way across the chamber, precisely copying Casella’s every move. There’s a scary moment in the middle when I accidentally tap on the wrong tile and we’re plunged back into deep darkness, but I yelp and jump away; the lights all instantly come back on. The [Spear Commander] turns and gives me a dirty look. If Nicanor’s glare could burn, I’d be charred away to ashes and dust. I gulp, continuing onward. By the time we stand in front of the door, we’re all sweating and nervous, but unharmed.

Mbukhe and Casella fall into a quiet discussion, gesturing at the floor and the doorway by turns. Their voices are too low for me to hear.

“How do we open the door?” I ask after a while, giving voice to the question that seems to be on all our minds. Nicanor gives me another superior look, as though to remind me that I’m asking a stupidly obvious question. The waiting is getting to me, though. I’m ready to get out of the Rift and go back to the comfort of the hot shop. Making things seems like a distant memory right now.

“Each tile connects to the doorway with a mana conduit. We probably have to trigger the three of them simultaneously,” Casella says, summarizing their findings.

“Good enough. With me,” Nicanor orders, striding forward and planting his feet in a wide, confident stance on the middle tile. The two [Inquisitors] flank him, standing in the center of the big white tiles.

Casella feeds more mana into his artifact, and the mana barrier swells to shield all three of them. It seems to buzz and strain, fading at the edges like it’s losing definition, and I doubt he can overcharge it to include me. I’ll have to stay alert.

“On my mark,” Nicanor says, counting down so that everyone is synchronized. As soon as he hits zero, he gives a signal. Mana vents downward into the floor from the three men at the same time.

Nothing happens.

“Needs more mana,” Mbukhe declares.

They try again, this time pushing twice as much energy into the floor, and the tiles light up for a brief moment. When nothing else happens, they release the energy flows, and the lights blink out again, leaving us no closer to getting past the door than we were before.

“I don’t think that’s the answer,” I say hesitantly. “It doesn’t match anything we’ve done yet. We’re coming at it from the wrong angle.”

“Riddles in the dark. Wonderful,” Nicanor growls back at me, but he doesn’t seem to disagree with the point I’m making.

“Reminds me of your mana puzzles, Nuri,” Casella says, drawing a sharp look from Nicanor. “You recharged yet? Could use your expertise.”

“Don’t expect me to solve it if you can’t,” I protest. “I’ve never done a puzzle like this before, and I don't have a pattern to follow. I’m only good at copying things I’ve practiced before, not coming up with clever solutions on the fly.”

Nicanor snaps his fingers. “Actually, I think you hit on the solution when you said it doesn’t match anything we’ve done so far. This is a fire-aspected Rift. Why wouldn’t the final puzzle be related to fire?”

As much as I hate to give the surly [Spear Commander] any credit, I find myself nodding along. My smile fades when I realize that I’m the only one with any Skills even tangentially related to fire. I let out an exasperated sigh and shoo them all out of the way. “All right. I’ll blast the white tiles with my [Greater Heat Manipulation] and see what happens.”

The three men move behind me, just close enough for Casella’s mana barrier to shield me in case anything goes wrong. The fuzzed edges and thinning form don’t give me much confidence in its strength. What if it’s running low on power? I gulp. I really hope nothing goes wrong.

“Burn,” I command, bypassing the Skill and tapping into the complex rune for fire instead. I’m not sure if heat is enough to trigger anything, or if I need actual fire.

This time, the response is instantaneous. The big tiles flare to life, shifting from white to dull, rusty red. The hotter the fire, the brighter they glow: cherry red, deep orange, bright yellow, and then all the way back to white again. The doors rumble ominously, creaking as they open a crack. Light and heat crackle in the space between the two doors, but the gap in the middle doesn’t widen.

Ignoring the sweat pouring off my face, I push more mana into the flames, gasping as the oxygen in the air is sacrificed as fuel for the fire. The flames take on a blue tint, and the heat spikes drastically as the doors are flung open with a bang.

I collapse back, panting, and Nicanor and Casella catch me before I black out and hit the ground. They set me down, patting me on the back and offering congratulations.

“Incoming!” Nicanor shouts, shoving me to the side, away from the danger. He dives the other way, rolling up to his feet with his spear in hand.

The warning saves Mbukhe’s life. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he drops flat, melting into the shadows just in time to avoid three enormous, razor-sharp claws that set the air on fire in the wake of their passage. Great! Another fire bear!

“Restrain it, Cas!” Nicanor bellows, parrying a second swipe from the massive, flaming bear. His spear whips around, flashing in the gloom, and knocks the beast back half a step, but does little to deter its relentless assault.

The beast came barreling out of the open doorway when I opened the doors, roaring with all the fury of an aggrieved monarch defending its home. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s the Rift boss, and it’s abyss-bent on tearing us all to pieces.

Mbukhe hooks his hands under my armpits, dragging me backward and out of the way of the fight. He leans me up against the wall, pats my shoulder, and disappears. His voice drifts back to me through the shadows. “Good work opening the door. Leave this one to us, Nuri.”

Casella conjures his ethereal chains, more of them than I’ve ever seen before. He shouts several phrases aloud that I don’t recognize, layering Skills and slowing down the bear’s movements just enough to create an opening for Nicanor to pierce its shoulder in a spray of blood.

The huge fire bear shakes its shaggy head, unleashing another bone-rattling roar. It breaks free a moment later, shattering the ghostly links and sending Casella sprawling. The big man looks like a toy doll next to the Rift monster, but he bounces back up to his feet looking only slightly worse for the wear.

Casella points toward the bear and chants a Skill. “[Your Strength Shall be Spent in Vain]. Nicanor! Now! It can’t hurt you for the next ten seconds.”

The [Spear Commander] dashes forward, trusting in Casella’s suppression Skill to protect him from the fiery bear’s wrath. It swings at him in wild fury, but despite the domineering power behind the blows, its claws bounce harmlessly off Nicanor’s side.

Nicanor levels his spear and thrusts, sending the bear careening backward as he roars out a Skill name. “[Sevenfold Strike]!”

The spear blurs more quickly than I can follow with my eyes, skewering the monster in a spray of blood. The impact explodes like a vicious thunderclap, staggering the pair of [Inquisitors] from across the room. The shockwave slams my head against the wall, and my vision flashes white.

By the time I regain my sight, blinking and holding my hand to my ear to stop the terrible ringing, the battle is already over. Gaping wounds all over the bear’s body testify to the power of Nicanor’s spear arts. The other three are butchering the remains of the carcass, searching for the beast core that such a mighty monster is sure to have.

I gulp at the grisly sight of burnt, mangled flesh, and turn away before I throw up. I’m glad that I haven’t eaten lately. Violence doesn’t usually bother me much, but between the mana drain and the blow to the back of the head, I’m feeling disoriented and sick to my stomach already.

“Found it!” Casella calls triumphantly, holding aloft the glittering, bloody prize.

The core from the dead bear is a fair bit larger than the one Tem gave me back in the Greater Rift, yet Nicanor took down the flaming monster with hardly any effort. I whistle, wondering just how strong the [Spear Commander] actually is in a fight. Mbukhe was right; I should stop antagonizing him.

Nicanor lets out a cackle, clapping Casella on the back. “Lucrative! That will look nice in my trophy case.”

“You know it’s claimed already,” Casella says, nodding in my direction. “We have a contract, [Spear Commander], lest you forgot already.”

“He’s still alive? Shame.”

Infuriating git. Should have left him for the sprites to snack on, I grumble internally. I hope we don’t have to work with him again, even if he’s the most dominating fighter I’ve ever seen. I hate to admit it, but he could run circles around Ember. Although, if she hadn’t retired and taken up a second Class, I’ll bet she could match his prowess.

“Guess he earned it, though. Pretty good run,” Nicanor says, taking the beast core, still steaming and dripping with gore and tossing it at me. He laughs when I fumble the catch.

“Yeah. Good run. That’s one way to look at it,” I reply, still reeling from the fight with the Rift boss. I can’t believe the core is right there, behind the open doors, unguarded now, and we’re going to walk away and leave it functional.

“Best part?We still have time to get back for dinner if you’re up for running under the influence of my squad Skill again. Good, yes?” Nicanor says, walking over and offering me a hand to help me to my feet. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

I pointedly ignore his hand, instead taking my time to stow away the beast core in my knapsack.

“What’s got you in a sour mood?” he demands, crossing his arms.

“Job’s not done.”

He cranes his neck, peering through the open doorway, and presses his lips together into a tight line. “Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t like it either?” I ask, surprised. I stand up and take a step toward the core. “Then let’s fix it! We can shut this place down before we head back to town.”

“Sorry. Orders.”

“Say I went rogue while you were busy fighting the boss,” I say, glaring at him in challenge. “Pin it all on me, and I’ll skip town for a while until it blows over.”

He shakes his head slowly, a wistful look in his eyes. “We’re not alike, Nuri. It doesn’t matter what I think. Even if I agree with you in principle—I’m a good soldier.”

I scowl at him. “If your commanding officer told you to leave a threat alive—a knife at your back, an army at your flanks—would you do it?”

“A suggestion, or an order?”

“What does it matter?”

“I know how to think for myself. But orders? I follow orders,” Nicanor says simply. He shrugs, a wry smile on his lips. “Besides, sometimes a threat is the only thing that keeps us sharp. My men will train in this Rift. They will grow stronger, or they will die. That’s just the way of things.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Silence follows us all the way down the tower stairway, over the ash fields, through the maze, and all the way back home, although Nicanor isn’t as confrontational as I expected. Our walk back to Silaraon seems to take even longer than I feared. I can barely keep my eyes open by the end. At least I got what I wanted: I finally have a fire-aspected beast core. I’m going to make the best imbued glass wand for Avelina that anyone’s ever seen.

But first, sleep. I shuffle over to the bed and fall flat on my face, too tired to change out of my grimy clothes, and pass out without getting under the covers.