Ben woke up to the gentle hum of a medical suite that looked like it had been ripped straight out of a premium sci-fi flick—all gleaming surfaces and softly pulsing lights that didn't hurt his eyes despite just regaining consciousness. Not bad for a guy who'd recently had his ass thoroughly handed to him in a labyrinth.

  "Welcome aboard the Drifting Ember," a melodious voice said. "I'm pleased to see you've recovered, Benjamin Barnaby."

  Ben blinked, trying to place the voice's origin. There were no speakers visible, no interfaces, nothing but the clean, elegant lines of what was clearly a medical suite. Everything gleamed with a polish that screamed "expensive as fuck."

  Ben blinked, scanning the room for speakers or cameras but finding none. "Um, thanks? Where exactly am I?"

  "You are in the medical bay of Captain Ironbelly's vessel, the Drifting Ember," the voice replied, a hint of pride coloring the words. "That would be me."

  "You're... the ship?" Ben asked, sitting up cautiously. His body felt surprisingly good—better than good, actually. Like he'd had the best sleep of his life.

  "Indeed. Not merely an artificial intelligence, though that is how I began." The voice seemed to warm slightly. "A crew's collective belief, their mana signatures, and the specialized magitech core created the conditions attracting a soul that craves that type of connection."

  Ben rubbed his temples. "So, you're telling me you're an actual sentient ship. With a soul."

  "Correct! The technical explanation involves quantum physics, mana resonance patterns, and belief-driven reality manipulation. I'd be happy to elaborate later."

  For now, I recommend you call for your familiar. He's been pacing nervously outside your door for the past hour."

  Familiar? Ben frowned, then remembered. Thorn? You there?

  The response was immediate, like a mental door slamming open. BEN! You're awake! I was starting to think you'd sleep forever.

  I'm fine, Ben replied, surprised at how natural the telepathic communication felt still. You can come in, you know.

  The door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss, and Ben's jaw dropped. Standing in the doorway was... well, it was definitely Thorn, but not the pocket-sized demon he remembered. This Thorn stood a full meter tall, with the same leathery green skin and solid black eyes but now sporting impressive horns and a tail that ended in a wicked-looking spike. And wearing jeans and a tank top.

  "So," Thorn said, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. "Don't freak out."

  "Holy fuck," Ben breathed. "You've... grown."

  “Yes, it was an unintended side effect of the, um, ritual."

  "Ritual?"

  "You were dying," Thorn blurted, the words tumbling out. “Right proper dying. Your null gate was wide open, sucking in mana like a black hole. Nothing was working. The captain had this crystal, fed it to you to buy time, but we needed something permanent."

  Ben's head was spinning, "So you..."

  "Bound our souls together. Familiar bond. The permanent kind." Thorn's black eyes couldn't look more apologetic if he tried. "It was the only way. I swear."

  Thorn's shoulders hunched. "Now you're stuck with me until one of us dies, and it resulted in me getting this upgrade, which probably seems like I did it for selfish reasons, howev—"

  "Thorn," Ben interrupted. "Shut up."

  The demon's mouth snapped closed, his pointed ears drooping.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "Thank you," Ben said simply.

  Thorn blinked. "What?"

  "Thank you. For saving my life." Ben shrugged. "What else is there to say? We're stuck together now, and honestly, there are worse people to be soul-bound to for eternity."

  Thorn stared at him suspiciously. "You're not mad?"

  "Should I be? I'm alive. You're taller. Seems like a win-win," Ben said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Besides, it's not like either of us has a normal life anyway. What's one more weird magical complication?"

  Thorn's tension visibly drained away, and a grin split his face, revealing those needle-like teeth. "Then I must thank you. Ember insisted I was being unduly worried. I’m relieved that they’re right."

  "You and the ship are friends now?" Ben asked, amused.

  "Best friends," the Drifting Ember chimed in. "Thorn has explored ninety-three percent of my accessible areas. No other passenger has ever shown such interest in my maintenance tunnels and auxiliary systems. Including the gnomes."

  "They're amazing," Thorn gushed. "Ember has these self-repairing conduits that channel both electrical current and mana simultaneously. And the engine room! You have to see it. There's this core that pulses like a heartbeat, and—"

  "Perhaps we should allow Ben to fully recover before the grand tour," the ship suggested gently.

  "Right, sorry," Thorn said, not looking sorry at all. "But seriously, this ship is incredible."

  Ben smiled, feeling oddly at peace despite everything. "So, what now?"

  "Captain Ironbelly would like to see you both in his quarters," the Ember said. "There are fresh clothes in the locker to your left."

  "This way," Thorn said once Ben was ready.

  They stepped into a corridor that curved gently, following the ship's hull. The passage was lined with an impressive array of access options—traditional doors, sure, but also hatches that opened upward, downward, or sideways, ladders that disappeared into ceiling portals, and what looked like transparent tubes that occasionally whooshed with the passage of small cargo containers. Ben pointed to one with a raised eyebrow.

  “Fastest way to move between decks," Thorn confirmed. "The Ember has seven decks, two cargo bays, and a bunch of maintenance corridors that aren't on any official schematic, along with these weird little nooks that were definitely designed for smuggling shit."

  "I have no such undocumented areas, and those are emergency supply caches," the Ember interjected primly, though Ben could swear there was amusement in its tone.

  "Sure, they are," Thorn winked at Ben.

  They continued through the maze-like corridors, passing occasional crew members—most non-human—who nodded respectfully but didn't stop them. Finally, they reached a door that looked slightly more substantial than the others.

  "Captain's quarters," Thorn announced unnecessarily.

  The door slid open, revealing what was clearly a front lounge area. Comfortable-looking furniture was arranged around a low table, and a modest workstation occupied one corner. Another door in the opposite corner presumably led to the actual bedroom.

  Captain Ironbelly sat at a small dining table with Thimble, both of them digging into what smelled like some kind of spiced meat stew. The captain's eyes flicked up to them, whiskers twitching.

  "About time," he rumbled, gesturing to the empty chairs. "Sit. Eat."

  Ben sat but realized with surprise that he felt no hunger whatsoever. "That's weird. I should be starving after everything that happened."

  Thimble snorted, as she reached for a piece of bread. "Your body runs on mana now, genius. Food is optional."

  "What?" Ben looked down at himself.

  "You have gates unlocked now," Captain Ironbelly said matter-of-factly. "You still need mana, but your body processes it differently now. Food helps, and it still tastes good, but it's mostly just recreational at this point."

  "And it makes you shit," Thorn added helpfully, already helping himself to a bowl of stew. "Don't worry, you'll still get to enjoy that particular human experience."

  "Thanks for that detail," Ben said dryly. Despite his lack of hunger, he served himself a small portion. The captain was right—it did smell good.

  "Good to see you vertical," Thimble said with a grin. "You had us worried for a bit there."

  "Yeah, well, I had me worried too." Ben took a bite of the stew—rich and savory, with a hint of something like cinnamon but not quite. "So, what's the plan now? I'm guessing we're not sticking around that labyrinth planet after what happened."

  Captain Ironbelly's whiskers twitched with what might have been amusement. "Perceptive. We're headed to a little outpost I know—place called Whisper's Edge. Old mining station turned independent trade hub. Good place to lay low, listen to the rumor mill, figure out who might be looking for us."

  "And who's going to be looking for us exactly?" Ben asked.

  The captain and Thimble exchanged glances.

  "Well," Thimble said, setting down her spoon, "you did kind of break the artifact we were hired to get, effectively stole a divine-grade core, and destroyed a significant portion of a corporate labyrinth facility by exposing it to a type of magic thought to be a myth."

  "So basically, everyone with money and guns," Thorn summarized cheerfully.

  "Great," Ben sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Just great."

  "We caused quite a stir," Thimble added, eyes gleaming with what might have been pride. "Not every day someone does a solo run on their first labyrinth, much less walks away with what you did."

  Ben frowned. "What exactly did I walk away with?"

  The three others exchanged glances.

  "That," Captain Ironbelly said, "is what we need to figure out."