I wake up on a cold, hard bed. I open my eyes to see the room I’m in isn't the dream I've grown accustomed to. This room is a cube. The only light comes from a row of flickering fluorescent bulbs in the corridor. I set my feet on the floor that is solid concrete, and in the corner is a porcelain toilet with so many stains they have their own topography. To top it all off, there’s a figure in the center of the room.

  "Aetheric Needle", I whisper, and the spell is there at my fingertips. A needle of light appears, cutting through the darkness. What I see before me is a corpse, thankfully. He’s been dead for a while now, and has already mostly decomposed. What remains of his hair is black, but the skin is like patchwork. It’s pale in some places, brown in others, greenish in a few. They’re not bruises; it’s as if he grafted someone else's, or something else's skin onto his own body.

  I grimace at the sight and push off from the bed as I make my way to the door.

  The cell door is heavy iron, with bars set close enough that even a child wouldn’t be able to escape. I run my hand along the metal, and it’s so cold I almost recoil. As soon as I touch it, I hear a voice. Not out loud, but in my skull, like a migraine that could speak.

  "Worry not our dear sorceress, no man, woman, or monster is getting through tungsten steel. One would need to exceed 2100 kilograms of force to even bend it. Everything is perfectly fine."

  My hand jerks back. The memories lingers like a faint metallic buzz in the back of my mind.

  "Tungsten?..."

  The word is unfamiliar to me, but I know that it fits. I look up and down the corridor. The other cells are empty, their doors hanging open or broken off entirely. Beyond the bars, there is movement, and then a faint buzzing.

  Locusts. Hundreds of the things, maybe even thousands, flying out of the cell next to mine. They pour into the corridor, but as soon as they pass under the fluorescent lights, they drop to the ground, dead. The pile is already a few feet high, and the living ones seem determined to climb the pyramid of their dead. I watch for a while, and I can’t help but envy them. The ones on the bottom at least.

  "Why is it that they get to end?" I plead, not expecting an answer. I release the bars and clench my fists shut with a sigh.

  Except they’re not my hands. The skin slices off as I move, peeling away in wet sheets, and underneath is not blood or flesh or bone, but glass. Not just any glass, but jagged shards. Some are clear, others are frosted, and each one has a tiny world trapped within. I hold my hands up to the light, and watch.

  In one shard, I see a shadowy figure pinning me to the ground, a blade raised high, and then he drives it into my chest. The glass screams, and I’m already looking to the next shard. This one is worse than the first. A darker memory. I’m under my bed, and I watch as Valerius’s boots stop right at the edge of my bed. My breath is heavy, heavier than that of the memory in the shard. Valerius’s hand liquefies as he coats it with magic, and it passes through the mattress. The knife follows, and embeds itself in my back. The girl tries to claw out from underneath her bed, but she begins to writhe in agony, and then the screaming starts.

  I try to hold my hands away from me, but it doesn’t help. I try to cover my ears, but my ‘hand’ catches on my shoulder, slicing cleanly through it. The skin on my left arm peels away, exposing a lattice of intersecting glass panes, each one showing an old death, and introducing a new scream. I turn, and try to run away, but I trip on my own skin, hitting the ground hard as more falls away. There is no escape; every time I close my eyes, the shards multiply.

  In one memory a blade comes at me, and I watch the world spin as my head flies through the air. I watch my own headless body collapse to the ground.

  I see flames crawling up my legs, the smoke turning everything gray, and I know that I remembering suffocating to death before the flames ever reached me.

  I see a blade pierce my heart, and the world goes black.

  Even after all these deaths, I am still here, trapped in a body of glass, waiting for the next one. I see myself falling, and I know there is nothing I can do to stop it.

  In another shard, I am crushed, crawling away with arms and legs that refuse to work.

  In another, I’m choking on blood, so close to the end of my journey, but I never reach it.

  I try to close my eyes, but they don’t listen to me.

  "Aetheria!" I call, but the word doesn’t make it past my lips. "Annia!"

  Still nothing. It's like a bad dream where you try to scream and nothing comes out, except this isn't a dream, it's too real.

  I try to gouge my eyes out with the shards, but all they do is pass through, unfazed. I throw myself against the bars in an attempt to shatter myself, but my body holds. I bang my head against them, but I hear nothing other than the screams. I feel nothing other than fear and confusion.

  "You know I wouldn’t lock you in there, just try the door."

  This voice is louder than all of the 99 cries that make up my body, and it’s coming from down the corridor. I look up, and see that the cell door has a keyhole in it now. I crawl to it, my glass feet scraping against the concrete. The sound is almost as bad as the screams, but I prefer it. I push at the door, and it opens with a quiet click.

  I step into the corridor, ignoring the locusts, and stumble forward. It's hard to walk on glass-thin legs, but I make it work. I pass cells full of unknown horrors. One cell holds a woman whose face is a blank sheet, one has a child who is nothing but teeth, and another has a pile of bones so dense it’s hard to tell if it ever had flesh of its own to begin with.

  At the end of the corridor, there is a darkness so deep that it soaks up all the light from the bulbs. And from that darkness, a pair of eyes open. Red, bloodshot, and hungry.

  They are the size of my head, and I know instantly that I have no chance of escaping it. I stop, and so does the beast. The smell is that of a wet dog, but it’s more than that. This is deeper, more primal. It’s the smell of fur and rot and pain and dried blood.

  "You’re the mutt," I say, my voice shaking. "Talia. Your name is Talia, isn’t it?"

  The beast steps forward, and the corridor widens to accommodate its size. It’s not a dog. It’s not a wolf. It’s something in between, or maybe something more. It has far too many joints in its legs and a mouth that nearly splits its skull apart. Each tooth is as long as a blade. Its fur is black, and matted with blood. It’s tall enough that its back scrapes against the ceiling, and I know if it stood on its hind legs, this place would not be able to hold it.

  Across every life, every possible permeation I’ve been through, only one monster comes to mind. The archmage of the Astrovian wizards tower always had an overactive imagination. Vampires? Tyrannosaurus's? Kangaroos? All fantasy that he had made up. Figments of his imagination. I never believed his stories, but one of his descriptions fits this creature perfectly.

  A lycanthrope.

  "You recognize me," it growls, its voice more of a vibration than a sound.

  "I recognize you," I say, but it’s a lie. I...don't know what's happening. I don't know where I am, or which life this memory is from. "Do you know what’s happening to me? I don’t want to be like this. I can’t be like this. I just can’t. I...I don’t want to be like this anymore."

  "Here in The Gut, we don’t wear our skin. All we need to see is what’s on the inside. It makes digestion easier, you see."

  "What’s on the inside?" I repeat, and look down at my glass body. Is this all I am?...

  "You look fragile, but you aren’t. You may think you’re made of glass, but you don’t shatter so easily, do you? You’re fractured, like a bone that never healed right. Each break sings its dying song."

  I don’t know how to answer. I wonder if this is what I look like to everyone else. A stack of broken pieces, strung together by bad habits and old fears. If I don’t break so easily then maybe I just need to try harder to break...

  "Try as you might, you won’t be able to harm yourself in any way that’s meaningful. I can tell by that look on your face that you don’t understand… Here, I’ll just show you. Jackie! Bring a mirror for Crowsong!"

  A figure steps out of the shadows from behind Talia. He’s a giant of man, twice the size of Gabriel, but his body is more metal than it is flesh. A helmet has been fused to his skull, and gears run up down the length of his body. It’s almost like a second skeleton that’s holding what little meat he still has, together. There’s a hole in his chest where his heart should be, and his right arm is replaced by something I recognize, but I can’t quite place it. A strangely shaped piece of metal with a long tube at the end, and a trigger near the front. Jackie’s already holding the mirror up to me, and I see myself, or what should have been me. What I’m looking at is a skeleton of glass, topped with a head that’s ethereal, and not quite my own. There’s a crown sitting on top, bloody and bright. Strings fall from the crown to my body, controlling my movements like I’m some kind of puppet.

  "Aetheria!" I scream, and try to look away, but I can’t. The lycanthrope merely shrugs, as if this is all perfectly normal to her.

  "I know you’re one to lash out, but you’re acting stranger than usual. Whoever it is you’re calling for can’t hear you. No outside source can interact with The Gu-"

  Talia is cut off by a boom that causes the entire corridor to shake. It sounds like the world being itself being ripped apart.

  "This Aetheria is more than just a source of comfort to you if she's capable of finding this place…" Talia says, and then her eyes narrow. "On second thought, Jackie, subdue Crowsong and bring her to my office."

  I try to run, but Jackie is already on top of me. He yanks the metal device off his arm, and swings the thick end of it at me. It’s only as the butt of the rifle collides with my temple that I remember the name for this device.

  "Oh, it’s a gun…" I mutter, and my vision fades away into darkness.

  *

  I wake with a gasp, and the first thing I notice is my hands. They’re not glass, but skin. My skin, warm and soft and trembling. I hold them up to my face and laugh, as I clench them tight. But I can still feel the glass underneath, waiting to cut through.

  I look up. I’m in an office, a nicely kept office. There’s a desk, a row of filing cabinets, and a mini-fridge in the corner. The only window is a porthole, the kind you’d see on an old submarine. On the other side of it, there is nothing but darkness.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Behind the desk sits a woman with long, flat, black hair and those same, blood-red eyes. Her skin doesn’t fit quite right, and she tugs it into place every few seconds, as if it’s a bad habit she can’t shake.

  "Typically I would not allow any creature in The Gut to go about wearing their skinsuit, but you seemed especially upset at seeing yourself. Maybe it’s because it’s unfinished?" She muses, her voice is polite, gentle even. But I can still hear that growl underneath it all. There’s an edge to it, a ravenous hunger, an insatiable hunger.

  "You’re Talia…"

  "Yes, and no. I am partially Talia. The Talia you remember is out in the real world, on the hunt. The Gut can never be too full, you see. I am just what lies underneath her skin. I’m sure that explanation is more than enough for you, yes?"

  "It is! So, um, how do I get out of here?"

  "How do you get out? Why, there’s a number of ways to escape The Gut. What goes down could go up, but I’m not sure that Talia would appreciate that. There is The Charnel Womb, but nothing has been able to claw its way out of that hole yet... That just leaves cutting your way through the stomach lining! It will hurt me, yes, but these things happen."

  I want to ask about the other options, but the thought of crawling through stomach lining is almost a relief compared to being trapped here.

  "What happened to Aetheria? Did she…come for me?"

  "Oh yes, she most certainly tried to. Just like you gave Talia a tummy ache all that time ago, that one will upset her tummy too, so I sent her on her way. Trying to keep something like you two down would only result in a stomach ulcer, so I’d like to send you on your way soon also."

  I squint at her, and activate Eyes of Clarity.

  Unknown

  Unknown? I’d never seen this before. More letters begin to form, but Talia’s hand darts across the desk, and my vision begins to spin.

  Get away

  from that

  ???u?,

  Clara...

  The letters spiral away, and I have to grab the edge of the desk in a desperate attempt not to fall out of my seat.

  "We’re having a conversation, what do you think is so important that you need to be reading right now?" Talia says, and holds out her hand. My vision steadies, and I watch as the letters are pulled from my eyes and arrange themselves in the air above her palm. She laughs and crushes them in her fist.

  "Get away from that thing, Clara. How rude… Me? A thing? You know, Talia was once told to stay away from you too. Why do you think that is? All these people and things who claim to know more than us, but also nothing all at the same time. They all know to tell us to stay apart though. It is the strangest thing… Are you and Talia not friends?"

  "I don’t know," I admit. And look away for a moment. "I remember words and places and things that I shouldn’t know. Like that window, that’s a porthole for a submarine!" I point at it, certain in my conviction. "But I don’t know what a submarine is, so why? Why do I know that word?..." I scratch my head, trying to find something that’s not there.

  "Careful, your skinsuit will come off again," Talia says, and I immediately stop. "Tell me, where do you think we are? Not The Gut, but what this area of The Gut is based off of."

  "It’s the ECA, right? You and I, I mean… Talia and I were coworkers."

  Talia clicks her tongue, and swivels in her chair, completely turning away from me. "Wrong! Just like your true form indicates, your mind seems to be fragmented. Let’s try an easier question. What do you think a Sin Eater is?"

  "It sounds like someone who’s looking to get a stomach ache…" I say, and this causes Talia to turn back to face me. I see a smile spread across her face, and she clears her throat before speaking once more.

  "That isn’t entirely wrong. A Sin Eater holds onto an individual’s greatest sin for them. It’s meant to allow a lucky few a greater chance at reaching Heaven when their day of judgement comes."

  "Heaven?" I repeat the word, and it feels stranger on my tongue than the rest do.

  "Worry not, you and I have no chance of reaching such a place. Talia tried to eat your own sin long ago, and it was too much even for her to bear. Back then, you could master any spell on sight, but you never did learn Sin Eating… It was simply beyond your comprehension."

  Images flash through my mind. I’m standing beside Talia as she listens to a sinners confession. The longer they speak, the more food appears on the table. I shake my head, and the images disappear.

  "I have a book actually! A grimoire of sorts. I think if I saw it one more time then I’d be able to do it, at least once. It’s a type of magic, right?"

  "You aim to imitate it instead of learning it. That’s cheap, dishonest even, but that’s how Clara Crowsong does things, is it not? It doesn’t matter how you do it as long as you’re the last one standing. Fine by me, hand it over," Talia says, and holds out a hand.

  "No, I just need to see the spe-"

  "Give me the grimoire, Crowsong."

  I feel it's not worth it to argue with her. I unclasp the grimoire at my side and hand it over. She flips to an empty page, then turns the book around, inspecting it with something like reverence. "This is a tricky book. I am afraid it would become damaged if it were to learn such magic. Do you still wish for me to go through with it?"

  "I think so, yes. If this is a spell I can’t get anywhere else then it has to be of use to me at some point, right? I want this life to be different from my others, so I need to take a certain degree of risk."

  "Good enough for me," Talia says, and rakes her hand along the page.

  I nearly scream at the sight, but clamp my hands over my mouth to silence myself.

  Her nails stretch into sharp, inky tendrils, and she scratches through the paper, inscribing something I can’t quite see. My eyes go wide and I frantically reach for the book now.

  When she finally releases it, I claw at it in return, and hug it to my chest.

  "It holds sentimental value to you, does it? I get it, you know how Talia is with her diary," she says, standing up and turning to face the porthole. "Or maybe you don’t know? I’m sure those lost memories will return soon enough. Anyways, it would be best for you to get going. As much as I’ve loved your company, hiding underneath all this skin is very uncomfortable for something like me."

  Talia reels her arm back, and her skin rips, tearing at the seams until a lycanthrope’s arm breaks through. "The only way for you to get out of The Gut is through the stomach lining. It’ll only be open for a moment, so you’ll need to be quick. Are you ready, Crowsong?"

  "No? I mean, yes, but there's still so many things I don't understand..."

  "Like I said, those lost memories will return soon enough. I will allow you one more question before I send you on your way though."

  "Which life did I meet you all in? Talia, Bell, and the others..."

  "Bell? Talia fought with a Bell once. If she had known you were friends with him then that fight likely could have been avoided. Oh well. To answer your question, it was the-"

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  My vision is filled, and I feel my right side grow heavy as I hit the ground. There's a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and a series of colors flash in my vision. My mouth burns, and I feel the need to spit. It's like I've gotten a mouthful of battery acid.

  When my vision finally returns to me, Talia is looking down at me, and offers her hand to me. I take it, and she pulls me to my feet. The side of my face is wet, and I wipe my sleeve on it. It's covered in drool...

  "Does this Aetheria of your often induce seizures when she doesn't want you hearing something?" Talia asks.

  "What? No! Aetheria wouldn't do something like that, she's only ever helped me... This place is just messing with me," I say, wiping another bit of foam off of my face.

  "That so, huh? Then why can't I say the number-"

  It doesn't matter anymore, I'm ready to leave

  "It doesn't matter anymore, I'm ready to leave."

  "Very well," Talia answers.

  Her fist collides with the wall. The steel frame bends, then gives way, as her claw punctures something wet, something that shrieks as it splits.

  Blood gushes out of the wall, but I dive into the open wound head-first. I feel Talia’s hand on my back, pushing me deeper inside, and then the next thing I see is light.

  I can see the setting sun in the distance. I’m back in the real world, and I’ve left The Gut behind.

  I squint, and try to sit up, but pain flows through my body. I look down to see a hole in my midsection, ringed with blackened flesh. I hold a hand over it and let out a pained groan.

  Terra was careful to avoid hitting any vitals, and his blade was so hot that it seared my insides shut before I could bleed out. He was careful not to kill me, and a faint golden light can be seen coming from the wound. I look closer and I see a spell.

  Delayed Eloria’s Embrace

  I laugh softly as the wound begins to knit itself shut.

  I want to think about ‘Talia’, about what she said, but I don’t have the time now. I look up just in time to see Terra kick one of the Saints off the adjacent platform. A moment later, Terra and Elen tumble off the side, and he kills her. It all happens so fast that I can barely tell what happened. Another one of the Saints, the spellcaster, holds her staff high and lets out a scream as she emits a blast of holy magic. The shockwave is enough to send me flying off my own tower, and to the ground below.

  "Zephyr’s Burst," I shout, and the wind catches me just before I hit. I duck behind the remains of a broken arena and peek out as I see Terra running up the length of the tower, Eloria’s Vow in his hand. He reaches the top and immediately begins engaging the remaining Saints in combat. I look to my right and see the Blade of the Shadewell, half-buried in the dirt. I pick it up, wipe it off, before making my way over to Elen’s body.

  I remember Terra’s words he whispered to me before I lost consciousness.

  "Bring back the first one I kill."

  I kneel beside Elen, and look down at her. It was a clean wound, she died immediately. I touch her chest, and infuse it with an immense amount of mana, willing her soul to come back to it. It’s harder than it should be; there’s a resistance, like she’s not ready to return. I smack her cheek a few times though.

  "Get up!" I shout, and Elen’s eyes shoot open.