The streets around Doreen's had transformed into organized chaos. Hunters and civilians worked side by side in a rhythm, loading carts with dead Carapax that formed glistening, chitin-covered trails stretching all the way to the harbor. The constant clatter of metal tools rang out against crab shells, voices blended into a low, purposeful hum, and the sharp crack of breaking carapaces echoed whenever someone's boot found the right angle.

  People grabbed whatever they could find—shovels, handcarts, even metal buckets brimming with smaller specimens that looked a lot more like normal crabs. Seagulls wheeled overhead in greedy circles, their harsh cries cutting through the industrial noise below. A salt-tinged breeze was a relief, but the sun's relentless glare made everything reek of sickly sweet crab meat.

  "Oh wow, it reeks out here," I said, covering my nose and mouth as Felix, Cassie, and I picked our way back toward the Tower. The smell hit like a physical wall—part ocean, part rotting fish market, part something uniquely awful that only came from giant magical crustaceans decomposing in the heat.

  Felix grimaced but seemed to handle it better than I was managing. Maybe they were just used to it.

  Cassie took a deep, theatrical breath and shrugged with apparent satisfaction. "Smells like a crisp morning to me! Must be bad luck having your kind of sense of smell."

  "That's a lot of dead crabs," I said, stating the obvious while trying to breathe through my mouth.

  "After you took out the big one, my brother made his way to the Tower and raised the alarm." Cassie gestured at the organized destruction surrounding us. "Then this. We're pretty good at dealing with just Carapax—it's the big fuckers that usually give us trouble."

  A few yards ahead, a slight woman with mousy red hair struggled under the weight of two overflowing buckets. She wore what looked like a flour-dusted apron over simple work clothes and moved with the careful steps of someone not quite used to manual labor. As if summoned by my observation, she promptly tripped—on a crab leg, naturally—and went down hard. Her buckets scattered their contents across the cobblestones in a cascade of shells and claws.

  We rushed over without thinking. Felix and I started gathering the scattered crab parts while Cassie helped the woman to her feet with surprising gentleness.

  "Hey Katie! Were you headed to the Courtyard for processing?" Cassie brushed dust from the woman's shoulders with practiced efficiency. "We've got extra hands—we can take them for you."

  "Oh... uhh... I can take them." Katie's voice carried a hesitant tone of someone trying to be polite while clearly needing help. "I need the... the money..."

  Bravery swept over her as I moved closer, feeding me little details as I focused on her.

  White flour dusted her clothes like snow, and I had seen enough oven burns on wrists to know a fellow baker when I saw one.

  Cassie nodded and reached into her vest without hesitation, producing several small blue coins along with one larger red one that caught the light. "Of course, no problem. We'll buy them off you." Her grin turned mischievous as she glanced back at me. "Besides, the Breaker over there just got a dose of Nana’s healing. He could use the workout."

  I felt the familiar weight of being volunteered for something I hadn't agreed to, caught between annoyance and resignation. After everything that had happened, though, I felt pretty great.

  Katie accepted the coins, then looked up at me with suddenly wide green eyes. The change in her expression was immediate and dramatic.

  "B-Breaker?" The word came out like she was testing it, making sure she'd heard correctly. "Oh. Oh!" Her hands flew up, trying to press the coins back toward Cassie. "I can't take your money, please—take it back. Thank you so much for what you did."

  Her nervousness evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like hero worship. "If I had more time, I'd love to hear the story."

  Cassie smoothly sidestepped the attempted coin return with the ease of long practice.

  Katie turned her full attention to me, and I felt my face heat under the intensity of her gratitude. "Please, I'm Katherine... uh... Katie. I run a small bakery off the harbor, two streets over." She gestured vaguely toward the water. "We were mostly left alone by the Carapax—they don't seem to like sweets, thank the Roots."

  She paused, seeming to remember herself. "Oh... I'm sorry. Please at least stop by later. We're handing out bread all day to those in need after the attack. These coins will get us plenty of flour, so you'll have an audience there if you want to tell your story!"

  I caught Felix snickering out of the corner of my eye, which only made the heat in my cheeks worse.

  “I... Yeah, uh... I'd—Hrgh!”

  Whatever diplomatic response I'd been fumbling toward got cut off as heavy weight suddenly dropped onto my shoulders, driving me down to one knee with shocking force. Once I managed to steady myself and process what had happened, I found a bucket of crabs hanging from either side of a wooden yoke that now rested across the back of my neck.

  "Holy—this thing weighs a ton," I gasped, feeling every muscle in my shoulders and back protest the sudden load.

  The crabs were significantly heavier than their appearance suggested, each bucket probably weighing as much as a grocery bag filled with cans. It wasn't exactly painful, but it caught me completely off guard.

  I turned around to find Cassie wearing a grin that could only be described as diabolical.

  "Threw a couple extra in for you, we've got two months, no slacking off!" she called cheerfully, then took off running toward the Tower with the kind of speed that was absolutely magical.

  Cassie was gone before I could even think of a response, leaving me standing there like a very confused pack mule while Katie watched with obvious amusement.

  Looking around, I started to piece together the larger picture. Katie had been carrying at least sixty kilos of crabs—but for what? Money, apparently. The street was full of people hauling similar loads: carts creaking under the weight of chitin and claws, sacks thrown over shoulders, makeshift yokes distributing the burden across backs and necks. Everyone was carrying as much as they could manage in the same direction. No horses, no cars, no magic help. Just people helping to clean up their city the hard way.

  "Okay, I guess I’ve gotta get these guys to the Courtyard then." I adjusted the yoke, trying to find a position that didn't feel like it was sawing through my shoulders. "I'd love to visit your bakery, Katie. Maybe we can swap recipes—as long as I don't have to knead dough." I flashed what I hoped was a charming smile. "Plus, I'd love to tell you all about how I single-handedly saved the city. Preferably over drinks."

  Wait. Where the hell did that confidence come from?

  The words had just tumbled out like they belonged to someone else entirely. Katie's eyes went wide, her expression shifting from polite interest to something approaching shock.

  That was supposed to stay safely locked in my head, but apparently my mouth had other plans. Katie's composure crumbled instantly, her fair skin flushing deep red as nervous energy practically radiated from her.

  "Oh—I… how very… um… that would be… nice," she stammered, then practically fled up the street.

  My cheeks burned with mortification as Felix clapped me on the back, his chuckle rich with appreciation.

  "Well done, Ben! I think I have a lot to learn from you." His grin suggested he was enjoying my embarrassment far too much.

  "It's not that," I protested as we started walking toward the Tower, the weight of the crabs already making my shoulders ache. "It was just a thought—I didn't mean to say it out loud. I'm not usually that... uh... forward." I shifted the yoke again, searching for a more comfortable position. "It’s Bravery, I think."

  The casual way I referenced magic still felt surreal, like I was pretending to be someone else.

  "Magic or not, you were standing there with muscles rippling, barefoot, asking her out for drinks." Felix's grin widened. "It was the right time to say it."

  I glanced down, suddenly aware that my feet were bare against the cobblestones. Again. I wasn't even sure where my shoes had ended up—probably buried somewhere in the chaos of my room at Doreen's.

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  "I need to get some shoes," I muttered, my embarrassment fading into practical concern. "But Diana said I was almost completely out of mana. Though, I think I've figured out how to activate the spell, but I don't feel it now. I honestly feel completely normal." I looked at Felix sideways. "Mana is needed for Runebinding, right?"

  "You've been without mana your whole life, Ben. It makes sense you'd feel normal." Felix adjusted his own lighter load with practiced ease. "I feel sick if I get that low. It's pretty impressive that you've formed and mastered a spell this quickly, though."

  The compliment sat strangely with me. "But I don't feel like I'm... empty. How can I even tell when I'm running low?"

  The load was definitely getting heavier as we headed uphill, and sweat was beading on my forehead despite the morning's relative coolness. My shoulders were going to be screaming by the time we reached the Tower.

  "You know, your bravery spell is so impressive I totally forgot." Felix snapped his fingers like he'd just remembered something important. "Of course you'd have no idea how to manipulate mana—you're not even technically an Initiate yet. Let's grab some mana pearls from these crabs. We'll get less money, but that's on Cassie for disappearing. We can use them in a room at the Tower to teach you proper mana sense."

  We rounded a corner—

  corner—and it took my brain a moment to fully process what I was seeing.

  The aftermath of the exploding Brine Tyrant was like something out of a disaster movie. Thick layers of blue-green goo coated everything: cobblestones, building facades, street carts, vendor stalls. The viscous substance had splattered with such force that it clung to second-story windows and hung in ropey strands from lampposts. Entire chunks of street and building facades had been reduced to rubble by the massive crab's thrashing during our fight, leaving crater-like gouges in the stone.

  But dominating the center of it all, like some macabre monument to the battle, sat the Brine Tyrant's intact fiddler claw.

  The thing was enormous—easily four meters long, maybe more—leaning against a partially collapsed building like a giant's discarded weapon. The closer we got, the more its sheer scale became apparent. Intricate runes had been etched into the chitin surface, though they were now blackened and burned, leaving only the natural yellowish-red shell color everywhere else. The claw alone was bigger than most cars back home.

  A crab absolutely could not get that big on Earth. Not even close. The Brine Tyrant could have hunted elephants for sport—hell, it probably could have taken on a small tank and won.

  "Whoa," I breathed, stopping in my tracks despite the weight on my shoulders. "That thing really was massive."

  Monster Hunters swarmed the area like an organized cleaning army, armed with rags, large metal scraping tools, and jars of white powder that they dumped liberally across every goo-covered surface. The chemical smell hit in waves—one moment the sickly-sweet stench of decomposing crab, the next a sharp, salty tang. My nose couldn't decide which was worse.

  Further up, standing at what had to be ground zero of the explosion, a Sentarian in azure robes trimmed with gold worked with methodical precision. Their skeletal fingers were twisted into a mudra so complex I'd need to break several joints to even attempt it. A high-pressure jet of crystal-clear water erupted from a point just beyond their fingertips, slicing through the blue goo coating the buildings like a magical pressure washer. Every movement was deliberate, almost artistic—like they were painting instead of simply cleaning.

  The water materialized from absolutely nothing, appearing at a focal point just in front of their extended hand. Through the spray, I caught glimpses of something I recognized—a symbol that practically screamed its meaning at me. Water definitely, but the second part of the spell was a wild tangle of concepts I couldn't quite grasp.

  "Will of the water?" I said, staring at the Sentarian's outstretched hand.

  "You have a good eye, Ben." Felix's voice carried genuine appreciation. "I think that one's called . It's not quite ripping a hole in the spirit realm like Chas does, but as far as Runebinding goes, it's still pretty damn impressive." His tone shifted to something approaching awe. "Producing water purely from mana must be incredibly useful, but the spirit aspect makes it wildly unpredictable."

  As we passed through the gentle mist created by the spray, I felt instantly refreshed. The water seemed to cool the air around us intentionally, neutralizing the worst of the stench and leaving behind something almost pleasant. Felix shot me a sideways grin, and I realized this was the first time I'd seen magic used exactly the way I'd expected it to work.

  "This is an Arcanist-style spell?" I asked, unable to resist stopping to watch the Sentarian work.

  “More or less,” Felix confirmed.

  The spell didn't bombard me with concepts and ideas like others had. Instead, it seemed to embody something simpler but somehow more profound—the water's own willpower, given form and purpose.

  "Spirit-related magic is unpredictable?" I said, noticing several hunters glancing in my direction. Some were even pointing, which made my shoulders tense under the weight of the crab buckets.

  "Usually." Felix's expression grew more serious. "Spirit magic enforces the will of your soul rather than just your mind. And, well, I'm sure you know that your body and soul might not always agree on things."

  I turned to face him fully, feeling something cold settle in my stomach. "Fucking... No, Felix. I don't know that my soul might not see eye-to-eye with myself. As far as I knew, I am my soul. And souls were more or less an abstract theory until about thirty-six hours ago."

  "Oh. Well... now you know." Felix's casual tone suggested this was basic information everyone should have. "Spirit magic, like your aura, is your soul exerting direct influence on the world around you."

  I stopped dead in the middle of the courtyard, ignoring the flow of people around us.

  That strange voice in my head. The one that kept urging me to do increasingly stupid things. What I'd been attributing to Bravery magic was actually my soul—the supposed core of my existence—being a complete dumbass?

  The revelation hit like a physical blow, leaving me too stunned to process the sound of approaching wheels until something slammed into me from behind. The impact sent me sprawling forward, crab buckets flying as their contents scattered across the cobblestones in a cascade of shells and claws.

  "Amituofo!" a melodious voice called from behind me. "Apologies, friend!"

  I rolled over, spitting dust and trying to figure out what had just flattened me. What I saw defied easy categorization—something between a gypsy wagon and a small car. Painted in brilliant golds and reds with somewhat familiar patterns, it moved without any visible means of propulsion. No horses, no oxen, no magical creatures pulling it forward—it just glided across the cobblestones like it had a motor.

  A Sentarian sat in the driver’s seat; his robes elegantly understated in contrast to the flamboyant vehicle. Their long, smooth features held an expression of genuine concern as they looked down at me.

  "Kerrin!" Cassie's voice boomed across the crowded courtyard with enough volume to make nearby conversations pause. She jogged over and hauled me to my feet with her usual efficiency. "Ben, you can't just go stopping in the middle of the road, especially during cleanup. People have places to be."

  "Lady Cassandra," Kerrin said from his perch, inclining his head with fluid grace. "This one is terribly sorry. The wagon's momentum engine does not respond as quickly as living beasts."

  "I'm fine," I said, dusting cobblestone grit from my clothes and trying to salvage what dignity remained after being flattened by a magical wagon. "After getting my ass kicked by a giant crab, I think 'getting hit by a car' isn't that big of a deal anymore."

  "Car?" Cassie's eyebrows shot up with genuine curiosity. "Is that what Terrans call Trailbinders?"

  I stared at her for a moment, watching the connection spark to life in my brain. I looked at the ornate wagon, then back at Cassie, pieces clicking into place.

  "Oh... Actually, yeah. Not quite the same thing—ours aren't made of wood and don't run on magic—but sure, close enough." The comparison seemed to delight her, and Cassie's face lit up with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for discovering shared interests.

  "Ah, this one sees that Ben here is the Unbidden you spoke of last night." Kerrin's melodious voice carried formal precision as he inclined his head toward me. "The Estate of Winters is extremely grateful for your assistance in saving our Heiress."

  "Ahem!" Cassie's interruption was sharp enough to cut glass, her face flushing an alarming shade of red. "Kerrin here was just getting back home, right?"

  Kerrin tilted his head with insectoid curiosity, the gesture somehow looking both elegant and slightly unsettling on his humanoid features.

  "Your home is my home, Young Miss. This one has served your family his entire life. Surely it isn't that unusual for—"

  "Gaia's tits, Kerrin, stop fucking talking." Cassie's mortification was practically radiating from her in waves; her usual imposing confidence completely evaporated.

  Kerrin's lower mandibles spread in what I could charitably interpret as a smile—though on a Sentarian, it looked more like he was preparing to devour something.

  "Amituofo, Young Miss," he said with what sounded suspiciously like amusement. The wagon lurched forward with surprising smoothness as he guided it away, leaving us standing amid scattered crab parts.

  "What took you so long?" Cassie asked, helping me gather the spilled crabs while studiously avoiding eye contact.

  "He had to hit on Katie and get himself a date," Felix said as he joined our impromptu cleanup crew, his grin suggesting he'd been saving that revelation for maximum impact.

  "Wait, Katie Summers?" Cassie's frown carried a note of genuine surprise. "You wasted no time, Ben. Shit, do I not do it for you? Don't like us big girls?"

  I blinked, feeling heat creep up my neck. "What? I—uh, it was my magic... I think." The explanation sounded weak even to me.

  Cassie's punch to my already-bruised shoulder carried just enough force to make my eyes water.

  "I'm messing with you!" Her laugh was rich and genuine, and she flexed a corded arm. "I have a lot of brothers—I'd fold you in half like a piece of paper. Good job with Katie, though. She needs to get out of that bakery more often."

  Felix wiped his hands on his pants, looking pleased with himself. "I got us a room at the Tower for Ben's initiation. Had to pull rank, though. Sometimes working for the Head Mistress has its perks." He glanced between us expectantly. "What happened? What'd I miss?"

  Cassie looked like she was about to launch into an explanation, but I couldn't resist the opportunity.

  "Oh, one of Heiress Cassandra's staff members hit me with a Trailbinder," I said with my most innocent grin, hefting the buckets back onto my shoulders. "Isn't that right, Young Miss?"

  Felix's snicker was immediately drowned out by the sound of Cassie stomping over to two unfortunate hunters carrying their own crab buckets. She appropriated their loads with the kind of authority that brooked no argument, then slammed the additional buckets onto my makeshift yoke with enough force to make my knees buckle.

  The weight easily doubled, sending sharp pain shooting through my shoulders and down my spine.

  "Great. Now you get to carry this up all those stairs." She threw me a smile that managed to be both genuine and absolutely terrifying. "Why? Because you're on my family's island and I fucking said so."

  I looked across the courtyard at the massive stone staircase leading up the hill into the tower. Was it still called a tower if it was underground? From here, it just looked like a museum on top of a somewhat steep hill.

  Hell, I'd been going mostly uphill this entire time anyway, so it couldn't be that much worse.

  I adjusted the yoke across my shoulders, feeling my muscles protest the increased load, and took a steadying breath.

  That's when the little voice in the back of my head decided to make its presence known. Because of course it did.