Rowan raced out of the crack to defend the child from whatever monstrosity awaited, only to find the towerless Tower of Zchēve holding the girl up by the scruff of her rags.

  “Hey, no, wait.”

  Rowan waved his arms to get the nameless one’s attention. The child’s breathing was awkward—her own attire choking her due to the nameless one’s grip—but she was otherwise unfazed by the unexpected accosting. The mask cut a 90 degree angle in Rowan’s direction. The scarlet eye staring back at Rowan was hard to glean emotion from, but he didn’t recognize any semblance of relief at their reunion. And why would there be? Rowan freed the nameless one, only to get them imprisoned once again; not to mention the electrocution that occurred amidst the shackling. Though he was afraid of the Tower of Zchēve, he reached for their shoulder just the same.

  “I’m sorry,” he started, ironing out the hesitation in his voice. “This is all my fault. But it’s not hers. I should be the one you’re mad at. Don’t you think?”

  He thought of what happened to the last person who gripped the tower’s shoulder without consent and felt his knees knocking together. The day had been terrifying thus far, and Rowan craved an escape; he’d settle for crawling back into that cell he was kicked out of, at this point. But Scholars right wrongs—he was pretty sure that was a maxim of his upbringing, anyway. He’d wronged the tower, but the child hadn’t. The nameless one’s scarlet eye narrowed through the notch of the mask.

  “Loek?sh sazchr?.”

  Gobbledygook notwithstanding, the cruel tone cut through Rowan unmistakably. Nonetheless, the tower dropped the child, who stumbled before ultimately finding her footing again. Like prey in the jowls of a predator, she froze still, waiting for the nameless one to permit her existence.

  “Thank you,” Rowan said, releasing his grip on the nameless one. He felt his cheeks suffused with color—there was no pride in groveling to get his way. “I really am sorry about all of this.”

  Rowan repeated his apology, extending an arm out to the nameless one. Back in the spire, handshakes were the means by which two parties would agree to leave their grievances in the past—one only bares their palms to those they trust, after all. To his surprise, after a moment’s hesitation, the tower met Rowan’s hand. He was worried they’d misunderstand his intentions, but their grip held no malice. This made it all the more surprising for Rowan when the nameless one pulled him forward and headbutted him.

  The metal just above the uppermost groove met the bridge of Rowan’s nose as quick as his backside met the ground after the impact. The sharp, throbbing pain and the trickle of blood told Rowan all he needed to know about the state of his nose. He winced and placed a hand beneath his nose, collecting the blood without any idea as to why or what he’d do thereafter. The confusion continued to build as the nameless one extended their hand once again, offering to help Rowan off the ground. The daze of the blow left him with little room for assessment: he simply took the tower’s hand again, ambling toward what he thought would be the same mistake.

  “Loetsaler vo k?sh fētisr?.”

  The words weren’t scathing like they’d been before. Instead, they were more matter-of-fact as the nameless one lightly pinched the bridge of Rowan’s nose.

  “Careful,” Rowan whined, his eyes tearing up as his nose throbbed from the attention of the nameless’ fingertips.

  The tower clicked their tongue at Rowan, belittling his woe. Rowan whimpered like a wounded animal as he felt the nameless’ fingers tense up, finding their destination. Sharp exhalations accompanied the grating sensation of bone being pressured back into place. The entire event was barely a minute in the labyrinth, but it felt like the longest frame of time in the offscape for Rowan thus far. When the nameless one released their grip, Rowan softly inhaled: he felt no worse for wear. The blood had even dried—in such a small time frame, this was probably the oddest part of all. This was the nameless one’s equivalent of a handshake, Rowan supposed. He hoped they wouldn’t have to shake hands again.

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  Rowan looked to the child, expecting some sort of comment on the situation, but she was still a statue.

  The tower turned away from the pair and the child finally released her breath. Considering the dangers in the labyrinth, Rowan felt it prudent to inform his ally of what he’d encountered thus far.

  “There was a thing on the other side of the wall and—”

  The nameless one slapped a hand to Rowan’s mouth, their intent clear and immediately adhered to. They took a few steps forward and lifted their foot off the ground. Rowan watched with fascination as a sharp point broke through the sole of one of the tower’s meager shoes. The bone protruding out was about the length of Rowan’s index finger when it stopped growing.

  “This is incredible,” Rowan said, his eyes flickering with wonderment. “Is that your calcaneus bone? Are you using vi to do that? Or are you just—”

  “Mada,” the nameless one hissed, angrily waving their arm at Rowan.

  “Sorry,” Rowan said, chuckling.

  The Tower of Zchēve was brusque, hard to understand, and had been the biggest danger to Rowan since getting into the offscape thus far. Yet they’d successfully wrenched his heart free of the fear previously holding it hostage. He observed them with a faint smile, trying to figure out what they were doing. The tower stood silently for a few seconds before lifting their foot again, withdrawing the bone and pointing down the corridor. Rowan wanted to tell the nameless one the direction they’d pointed to was where the monstrosity was first encountered, but the navigation wasn’t a conversation to be had: the nameless one had already walked away. Rowan chased after them, but took pause when he noticed the child wasn’t following.

  “Come on.” He called out to her, gesturing with a smile on his face like she’d done earlier. “This way, this way.”

  The child hesitated, looking up at the screen and then back to Rowan. She was afraid of the nameless one, sure enough, but Rowan couldn’t leave her alone. He turned back, grabbed her hand, and ran after the nameless one with her.

  “Let me go, please.”

  Her words conveyed distress and a demand, yet her tone was as soporific as ever. Rowan couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the dichotomy as the pair closed in on the nameless one.

  “Sorry. It’s pretty rude of me, but maybe you can hold off on being mad for now?”

  The girl’s puzzlement wore on her face, her huffs and puffs lessening as they caught up to the nameless one. The tower turned briefly when they heard the sounds behind them, confirmed the source, and turned back to the path ahead. Every so often, they stabbed the ground with their heel bone again and continued leading the way.

  “Is that bone conduction? You’re mapping out the labyrinth?”

  Rowan’s questions were ignored as the nameless one continued to march on.

  “They don’t understand you, I think,” the child said softly.

  Rowan chuckled. “You think so? I think they’re just a bit quiet, kind of like you.”

  “Like me?”

  The little girl seemed confused by Rowan’s words, as though she hadn’t thought of herself as quiet at all. Perhaps she just needed someone to take an interest?

  “You never did tell me your name,” he said to the child, the nameless one ahead of them pointing left as they rounded another corner.

  “No.”

  Rowan waited, assuming she’d expand on that response. She did not.

  “Well, if you ever want to tell me your name, I’d love to hear it.”

  She nodded her head, which would have to be enough for the moment, Rowan supposed. The pathways the nameless one led the trio down were oddly quiet: there weren’t any other prisoners passing them by or monstrosities at their heels. Rowan almost forgot the reality of their situation until they turned another corner. If it wasn’t for the scraps of cloth decorating the small mound of flesh, Rowan wouldn’t have immediately known what he was looking at.

  “This is…” he trailed off, his breath staggering at the sight of the mutilated corpse.

  “They failed to cross the street,” the child said.

  Rowan was ready to explain to the child that such a flagrant disregard of a human life wasn’t something he’d tolerate until a more immediate concern presented itself. The nameless one scoffed at the pile and kicked it to the wall, out of their way.

  “Why did you do that?” He marched over to the nameless one, his face flushed with anger. The masked navigator's contempt for Rowan’s words was evident, slapping his hand away as he reached out to them. Rowan balled his hands into fists, incensed by the nameless one’s disrespect.

  “You can’t just—”

  A familiar alarm blared through the labyrinth, drawing Rowan’s attention back to the screens above and the familiar face on them.

  “Mogrim.”