“Virgil!” I roared, pulling out my wand. I let loose a bolt of lightning, aiming for the woman. But she moved with a fluid grace, sidestepping my attack as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.

Ice-cold dread filled me. If she could do this, what chance did we have?

For a moment, I stood frozen, staring at the woman, one of the wands—I couldn’t remember which—clutched in my hand. I could feel my heart pounding, could hear the deafening silence of the chamber in my ears. And beneath it all, the whispers of the kedge, now paused, waiting.

“Let’s fucking do this, then,” I shouted, readying myself for ultimate combat.

“Do what, Gabriel?” the curly-haired woman asked calmly. She tilted her head to one side, regarding me carefully, like I was an animal in a zoo.

Don’t fucking look at me like that. I thought.

“Goddamn . . . let’s fucking fight, then,” I said, raising the haladie in my other hand.

“Gabriel, that would be foolish,” she said calmly, warmly. “I would kill you instantly, and then where would you be? Dead forever. I have no interest in that. You are far more useful to our efforts alive than not.”

“Save it, toots,” I shot, drawing myself up. “You’re just trying to fatten me up for the eventual slaughter anyway, so why the fuck shouldn’t I fight back? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“You’ve got everything to lose,” she said. “You haven’t any idea what it means to be chosen by us. What it means to be part of something great. You’re interested in breaking the System, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Well, that is our goal as well—you’ve already come so far in your personal journey. Why would you abandon it all—throw everything away for a silly, fleeting idea of control?”

“The way I see it,” I said, “regardless of what everyone’s intentions are, nobody seems to want these pylons to go away—so, I’m pretty sure that since the everyone I’m referring to are assholes on all sides of the playing field . . . I wanna bust the fuck outta these things and just see what happens.”

“That would be so, so foolish, Gabriel,” the woman said, shaking her head. “All that would achieve is weakening the boundaries of this plane. All manner of monsters could then spill into this world and run rampant. That would be all your fault.”

“Yeah, well, so what?” I said. “Maybe this place deserves a makeover. Another Nightmare War would probably be just what the doctor ordered.”

“Unfortunately, I will not let you do anything that could upset the balance I have worked so hard for,” she continued. “If you were to try, I can promise there is nothing in your bag of tricks that could subdue me. I am without equal. Peerless. The fact that you stand here now is merely a testament to my faith and good will. You are not currently in the same predicament as your friend merely because I will it. I could simply wave my hand—”

She made a mild gesture and Virgil was dragged across the wall, still restrained. I watched as he tried to struggle against her, but it was useless.

“Enough!” I yelled, my voice echoing in the chamber, sounding desperate even to my own ears. “What the fuck do you want?!”

She simply let her gaze linger on Virgil for a few more seconds, watching him wriggle in pain, before releasing him. He fell to the ground, coughing and spluttering but alive.

“I wanted to see you, Gabriel,” she said softly, her eyes fixing on me. “To observe you up close. To understand what the fuss was all about. There are many of us who have a vested interest in this ‘game’ you all are playing. But you . . . you’re a special case.”

“Special? Bullshit. I’m just trying to survive like everyone else,” I spat out, all pretense of bravado gone.

“Survival. Yes, it is a powerful motivator,” she mused. “Yet there is more to you. You are not only trying to survive but change the system, turn the tables. You have ambition.”

“Look, what’s your end game? What do you want from me? Let’s cut to the chase, Curly,” I said, anger and frustration building inside me.

She chuckled, a low, musical sound that echoed eerily in the chamber.

“Ah, Gabriel. Always one for shortcuts. My end game is simple. I want the world to crumble away from the state as it is. I do not thrive under the thumb of the System, where boundaries are thin and creatures of power like myself can only come and go as they please under strict guidelines.”

“Creatures of power? What the fuck are you?”

“I was once like you are now,” she said. “A Sojourner, birthed into this world in confusion and unaware of what I was so desperately searching for. I was lost, disoriented, practically a cub. I took this form out of a misunderstanding of what would truly matter to me. Much like yourself, I had lost those most important to me. I, quite foolishly, believed that if I took on an appearance like this, I could summon my wayward peacemaker back to me. But I was wrong. It wasn’t what I was that mattered; it is what I would become.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“A vessel,” she said. “I will nourish the spirit of the Drifter and he will set me forever in a place closest to him.”

“Ew,” I said. “You’re trying to become part of his harem? Gross. You should aim higher.”

She winced.

“You’re a fool,” she said.

“Fuckin’ . . . write a book about it or something,” I said.

But her words had unlocked something inside me. Clips. Phrases. What were they? Rexen. He’d mentioned vessels—not like the ones containing the power for a runic circle. But he’d said I would one day be a suitable vessel. In the forest, on our way back to the camp. Later, he’d mentioned he wanted to possess me someday. It was easy to brush it off because he was fucking weird. But . . .

“And now, dear Gabriel, we must make haste,” the curly-haired woman said. “It is time.”

The gears in my head started turning, trying to make sense of all the random puzzle pieces of information I’d gathered over the last few months. Deep down, a quiet voice whispered to me, nudging the fringes of my memory. There was a conversation I’d had with Rexen, surrounded by woods with long shadows stretching like outstretched arms. He’d gone on one of his cryptic rambles about not being some dispensable pawn in a bigger game.

Shit. A pattern was emerging. Every time this curly menace graced us with her unwelcome presence, Rexen was notably absent. It could’ve been sheer coincidence, but my gut told me I was on to something.

Is Rexen . . . the Drifter?

“Yo, Curly Q, got a question for you. What’s the deal between you and Rexen Gravetongue?”

Her mask of serenity wavered, and though it was a flash, the kind you’d miss if you blinked, I caught it.

“Who?” she feigned ignorance. I could tell. I don’t know how, but I fucking could.

“Rexen,” I repeated, savoring the moment, letting the name roll off my tongue. “Every time you decide to pop by, our mutual friend seems to be MIA. So, what’s the sitch? Scared?”

Her laughter, though cold and distant, betrayed a hint of annoyance.

“Why on earth would I fear him, or anyone, for that matter?”

Deciding to gamble, I ventured, “Rexen the Drifter. Sounds like a bad band name. Ring any bells?”

Her composure slipped again, just a crack, but it was there. Bingo.

Just as I was basking in my little victory, thinking I had the upper hand, a searing pain shot through me, rooting me to the spot. Her face contorted into something wickedly furious.

“You may think you’ve pieced it all together, Loon,” she hissed, “But you’re just scratching the surface.”

“What. The Fuck?” I hissed. “This. Is. Over. Kill.”

In my pained state, I half-remembered Rexen mentioning something about being transported...

Holy shit!

He was talking about the pylons—or the kedge, or whatever the fuck, in his cache.

Oh, sweet baby goddamn!

I grunted as Curly’s diatribe washed over me. As my vision blurred, the room’s edges seemed to glow, distorting reality. The sensations were strangled. Fear and fury hummed together, an ugly crescendo reverberating through my veins. Yet beneath it all, a minuscule spark of hope kept flickering.

“I will devour you, Gabriel…” she said, but it as though her threat was an obligation. As if she was willing to do it, but didn’t want to?

From the corner of my eye, I caught a flutter of movement. My mind stuttered, froze, then rebooted. I had to stay calm. I focused. There was the phantom sensation of my Misdirection Ability snapping into place, like gears meshing, metal on metal. It was a shaky card, but it was my last. With a grunt of exertion, I let one of the Hexahedrons of Hazards tumble from my grasp. Not red. White. One I hadn’t gotten a chance to deploy yet.

An ear-splitting blast filled the room as the cube activated. Blinding light painted the chamber in harsh, uncompromising strokes. Curly recoiled, a sound erupting from her throat that was more akin to a large feline’s growl than anything human. A primal snarl, rich with anger and surprise.

“If any’un’s goin’ to be devourin’ ‘im, it’s goin’ t’be me!” The voice sliced through the chaos like a blade. “Slipknot Seplucher!”

A gleaming tether materialized, wrapping around Curly’s neck as if made from liquid silver. I blinked against the light, and when I could finally see, I saw Frida.

Goddamn Frida, my savior in shining armor. Dark-skinned, beautiful, her azure eyes reflecting the glow of the beautiful ax she held. She was an avenging angel, a symbol of strength and determination. I wasn’t sure how she’d found me, but I didn’t fucking care. Without hesitation, she lunged, slashing at Curly with her luminous weapon.

The curly-haired menace resisted, ripping Frida’s tether from her neck with a chilling smile. A slash of her hand was all she needed to counterattack, but a rumbling voice beat her to it.

“Rebuff!”

Suddenly, Frida was flying backward, propelled by an unseen force. Jes swooped into the scene then, a whirlwind of magic and anger. He hurled magical fire at Curly, distracting her long enough for Virgil to get his crossbow bolts off.

One, two, three bolts went flying, each one a streak of deadly intent. The combatants were a blur of motion, a violent motherfucking ballet that defied all my previous understanding of a fight.

As Curly turned her attention to these new threats, her grip on me weakened. The pain that had once been debilitating dulled to a throbbing ache, freeing me to act. I dove into my arsenal, pulling out an Ability I’d left untouched. Until now. I felt it surge within me, vibrant and ready. With a roar, I unleashed the Rallying Warchant.

“COWABUUUUUNGA!”

The chant vibrated through the room, sparking off Virgil like sun glimmers off water. The rhythm of the battle shifted. Virgil, now in overdrive due to the nature of my badass motherfucking cheerleader roar, was a one-man army, his shots quick and deadly.

Taking advantage of the momentum, I activated Biter and launched myself at the kedge. The surge of energy almost knocked me off my feet, but I clung on, knowing that this was our best chance at victory. The battle raged on behind me, but I was locked in, focused on the pylon.

It was do or die. Or, in our case, do and hopefully not die.

As I grappled the pylon with my teeth, everything around me melted into darkness. For a moment, there was nothing—just the taste of the construct and my own erratic breathing.

Then, without warning, I was consumed by a tidal wave of sensations.