Rowan’s mind was made up and he was at the gate, ready to re-enter the maze when the alarm went off. He walked to the entrance feeling like a new man and was surprised to see he was also the first to arrive. Thus far there’d always been a prisoner or two there before him, but perhaps it was just a coincidence?

  Another memory without explanation, another unrecognizable voice, and another mystery Rowan couldn’t concern himself with at the moment. He looked around for the gathering of prisoners, but only saw a towerless tower march over to him. Despite how weird he felt after the nameless one seemingly abandoned him, Rowan couldn’t hide his smile when he greeted them.

  “Hey,” he waved. “I’m okay, you know, if you weren’t sure. Or if you were worried. Or if you understand me.” Rowan chuckled at his own musings, expecting the usual silence to accompany his words.

  “Onekē.”

  This was the second time Rowan had heard the word, yet it sounded lighter this time; not hostile, but matter-of-fact. Rowan smiled and went to respond when the pair was finally met with another guest at the entrance.

  “Hello, me troublemakers.”

  It was Mogrim himself with his usual entourage.

  “Where are the other prisoners?”

  “No one else crossing the street today. Just you two,” Mogrim’s response lacked its usual showmanship.

  Rowan cocked his head. “What gives?”

  Mogrim chuckled. “You know, you’re not the first pup to wander into my neck of the woods: it happens pretty regularly. Whenever they do, they’re always looking for help; food, water, safety, or the directions to some supposed veil. Whenever they showed up, I made them the same offer I made you: get me the Tower of Zchēve and you can have whatever you’re after. They always say yes. I mean, what else is there to lean on in this place? So lean on Mogrim, go chase the tower.”

  “Mogrim I—”

  Mogrim put his hand up.

  “And they’d chase the tower, but it ain’t an easy find. You can’t navigate the offscape without one of these.”

  Mogrim revealed a small chain in his palm. The interconnecting links in the chain formed a loop with an irregular heptagon of glass tethered in the center. The chain was metal, the tethers were something else entirely, though—they faintly glowed with vi, perhaps feeding the device in the center.

  “Is that a compass?”

  “Of sorts,” Mogrim said. “It’s a Tuh…” He paused, searching for the word.

  “T?l?vazch,” the nameless one interjected. Mogrim’s brow furrowed in surprise.

  “...right. That. Law, didn’t think you had the gift of gab.” Mogrim said, thrown by the third voice in their conversation. “Anyway, these ain’t easy to come by, so nevermind finding the tower. You won’t find your own arsehole out in the wastes without one of these. But I don’t tell them that. I just send them on their way and send a couple of me boys to follow behind. I figure, they find the tower and secure it for me, then I’m aces. They find it and the tower kills them, well that’s product. They don’t find it and get desperate enough, they’ll sell themselves to me for survival. Either way, Mogrim’s on top.”

  Rowan’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Why are you saying all of this?”

  “Because, pup, did it. You found the tower, you delivered them—whether you wanted to or not—to me, and if that’s not Law’s will at work, then I don’t know what is. You got business to do, right pup? You got a veil to pierce. So, last chance: get out of here. Be on your way.”

  “I can’t,” Rowan said, meeting Mogrim’s gaze. “I’m not leaving here until everyone’s free, including you.”

  The old man scoffed and walked away as the guards ushered the pair into the maze. Though it wasn’t as apropos to call the field before them a maze this time around. Stony remnants of walls jutted from the ground like makeshift breastworks and parapets in what was mostly vacant space. The exit was in plain view across the field, taunting the pair as the gate shut behind them.

  “It’s not very mazelike.” Rowan sharply exhaled through his nose nervously, his hairs standing on end—there was something instinctively wrong about the situation.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the offscape, you know the drill.” Mogrim’s voice aired over the maze, his face back on the screens overhead. “I’m your host, Mogrim. Today, we have a special presentation for you. Keep those eyes glued to your picture boxes. In this corner, we have an honest-to-Law Scholar: Rowan Hightower. He says he’s here to save us all and pierce the veil of the offscape. Hell, he even found the Tower of Zchēve, so you know he’s the real deal. Can he and his masked friend overcome what I’ve got in store for’em?”

  The ground rumbled, a fissure splitting the arena in two. Rowan stumbled until the nameless one put an index finger to his chest, steadying him effortlessly. The chasm stretched as if the offscape itself was about to speak, finally coming to a stop as something crawled out of the darkness.

  “The poor pup probably thinks the Scholars are all sunshine and rainbows. Let’s burst that bubble and add some context to a friend he made recently.” An unforgettable wave of arms pulled the mass of a monstrosity out of the chasm. Rowan’s eyes widened as the nameless one pulled him behind cover with them. The creature was quick to lumber around for a target as Mogrim continued his presentation. “This mass of flesh is called the K?dra and it’s the result of a series of Scholar experiments.”

  “What?” Rowan’s eyes widened. “That’s not true.”

  Mogrim cackled on the screen. “The world’s not quite so black and white, see. That gray is where men like me make a living, and it’s where your predecessors mucked about with things they shouldn’t’ve. Say hello to one of those things, pup.”

  The K?dra roared without a definitive source for it to do so—it was the same violent gurgling Rowan heard before, the kind to wake him up when he slept soundly. He curled up against the rocky cover, hands to his ears, trying to shut out the auditory agony.

  “You can’t reason with it, pup. You can’t talk it down: it’s fury personified. I tell you what, though, since I’m the generous sort and all, I’ll even help you out. I’ll give you the right motivation.” Mogrim snapped his fingers and down from the vault of the cavern came Achaia, suspended in a cage. “That’s right, you creeps, don’t ever say Mogrim doesn’t entertain. We’ve got drama, suspense, intrigue, and a treat for all ages.”

  Rowan, hands still on his ears, shivering from the K?dra’s cries echoing in his heart, slowly craned his neck up at the cage overhead. She didn’t cry, call for help, or even look all too concerned with her circumstance—she just whispered. There was no sound for Rowan to pick up amidst the disarray of the spectacle. Nonetheless, the poet in Rowan’s heart swore he heard her just the same.

  “Help.”

  “Let her go, Mogrim.” Rowan called out, his legs still, his resolve secure. His thoughts, however, were aimless as he stood tall enough to poke up from the cover, attracting the K?dra’s attention. The creature barreled toward Rowan, eager to pull him apart like a present.

  “Ridinr?,” the nameless one huffed, grabbing Rowan by his rags and pulling him out of the way of the attack.

  “Watch out,” Rowan said, all the while creating distance between himself and the K?dra.

  “Onekē.”

  The nameless one charged at the K?dra, meeting its tackle head on. The sheer size of the beast eclipsed the warrior as they neared collision. Rowan kept his eyes open, trying to capture every facet of the battle. There had to be a way to help his ally and he’d find it. The tower veered off course at the moment of impact, sending the monster rushing past her and into the parapet Rowan was originally behind. Perhaps the nameless one intended for such a clash to leave the creature dazed and vulnerable, but the K?dra was beyond such limitations. It was already rebounding off the crumbled stone and charging back at the masked combatant. The Tower of Zchēve kept the necessary pace to avoid direct contact, which prompted a stalemate of sorts.

  “We can’t have things getting boring, can we? Let’s raise the stakes.”

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  Mogrim cackled with another snap of his fingers and the cage housing Achaia screeched slowly toward the arena below. Rowan’s eyes scattered around the arena, searching for sense in his circumstance, searching for a way to stop Mogrim.

  “Mogrim, stop. Achaia thinks of you as her family, don’t you see that?” Rowan screamed as loud as he could, desperate to reach the old man. Whether he got Mogrim’s attention or not, he certainly reached the K?dra. It turned away from the nameless one and charged at Rowan.

  “Oaki.”

  The desperate tone in the tower’s call turned Rowan around, giving him enough time to act. He sprinted away from the K?dra’s trajectory as best he could; Running clearly wouldn’t be enough, so Rowan dove forward, clumsily rolling away from its attack. He quickly returned to his feet, creating space as the nameless one took his place before the monster.

  “She ain’t no family of mine, pup. She’s a means to an end, a fancy hammer in me toolkit. Sure, she can make a sturdy wall or two, but that’s it. She can’t get me out of this place, so what good is she?”

  Achaia flinched at Mogrim’s words, her head hanging low and obscuring her tears. The descent was almost complete, she’d garner the K?dra’s attention in no time. Rowan’s body shook, knowing what to do before his mind could catch up. He sprinted toward a nearby barricade of rock: its shape was perfect for the springboard he was looking for.

  “Then you won’t mind”—his words caught the K?dra’s attention anew as his shoes caught the upward slope of rock—“if I make her my family instead.” He huffed and puffed his words out as he kicked off the rock.

  Rowan figured he must have looked like quite the sight, his arms flailing as he took to the sky like a wingwailer. Mayhap ‘the sky’ was too hyperbolic, but he was certainly off the ground. His brain finally caught up with his actions as he chastised himself for such a reckless leap. Once the cage was in reach, his hands caught the bars and his body hit the cage all at once, knocking the air out of him. Despite his brain whining to release his grip and his lungs screaming, Rowan held fast and tightened his core, sending the cage swinging like a pendulum.

  Achaia covered her mouth in surprise and grabbed a bar at her side to steady herself. Rowan put up an index finger, trying to catch his breath as the tower battled the K?dra beneath them. He heard the foreign words below, the tower’s tone demanding he hurry.

  “Fig, can’t you just”—he gasped and continued speaking—“free yourself?” Sweat dripped off Rowan’s brow as he swung his body in time with the cage’s natural motion, keeping it a hard target for the K?dra.

  “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t do anything. Mogrim’s the one who—”

  “Achaia, shut your gob.” Achaia’s face hardened at Mogrim’s words, her eyes glowing briefly before returning to their regular hue.

  The nameless one continued playing keep away as the number of breastworks in the arena for them to utilize dwindled by the minute. Rowan was running out of time, yet his mind demanded assessment nonetheless. Fig and Achaia were one and the same, so why did she say she couldn’t do anything? Mogrim’s notes made it sound like she was more of a tool than a human, but why would he think that? It had to be more than his own callousness; no, the answer had to lie in how he first came across her. The child couldn’t have been more than 12 marks, and he’d be generous in assuming so. She’s still growing and learning like any human being and that means she’s still learning about herself. Maybe she just doesn’t know—

  “Enough of this,” Mogrim said. The descent of the cage picked up its pace.

  They’d be in the K?dra’s clutches soon enough. Then, just like that man in the maze—no. Rowan couldn’t waste time fretting. Mogrim said this place—the supposed experiments, the K?dra—was all a machination of the Scholars. Rowan didn’t want to believe it, but operating under the assumption that he wasn’t lying changed things. It meant Achaia was Scholar property, not unlike a calibus.

  “Calibuses can be registered to administrators.” Rowan’s mutterings leaked from his brain, spilling out for Achaia’s ears.

  “Hm?” The child raised an eyebrow in confusion. Rowan continued speaking, ironing out his thought process.

  “When a calibus has an administrator and someone who isn’t that administrator tries to use it, the calibus won’t work: the user lacks the necessary permissions.” Rowan’s eyes lit up with memories of the spire, a grin forming on his face. “But sometimes, a Scholar is killed in action or simply leaves the spire and someone needs to access the calibus. As such, every piece of Scholar technology has an override sequence built in. Usually you input it but…”

  Rowan trailed off, feeling sick. Acknowledging this and what it meant was weighing him down.

  “Are you okay?”

  Achaia’s monotone voice broke through Rowan’s hesitance. He shook his head, deciding his conflicted feelings could get sorted later.

  “Achaia,” her eyes perked up at his words again. “Scholar sequence Kuva?, Kut?los, 0, 4, 0.” Sure enough, Achaia’s eyes went black, just like a calibus screen. What a wistful feeling in such a discovery.

  “What the feck are you doing down there, pup?” Mogrim peered closer, one of his eyes taking up every screen on the ceiling.

  “Server wipe administrator privileges,” Rowan smirked.

  “Stop that.”

  “Server recognizes new administrator.”

  “Pup, no.”

  “Achaia, self.” Achaia’s eyes returned to normal once again. She looked around as if she had to recall her surroundings. “Are you okay, Fig?”

  “I think so,” Achaia responded. Rowan smiled and patted her head through the bars.

  “Achaia,” Mogrim roared. Achaia whimpered and flinched, like she was waiting for an inevitable punishment.

  “You’re fine, Fig.” Rowan whispered to her.

  “Achaia. Achaia? Achaia.” Mogrim repeated her name until he was blue in the face, not a single time saying it with anything beyond malice. “Listen to me, you little shite.” Rowan felt bad for taking some minor pleasure in the desperation in Mogrim’s voice.

  “Not anymore, Mog.” Rowan smirked as a hand gripped the bottom of the cell pulling at it. “Law, the K?dra.”

  “Oaki,” the nameless one called again, trying to get the beast’s attention.

  Rowan passed his hands around the cell door, searching for vi imprints to unseal the door, but there were none to be found. If he could get the vi to cooperate, he’d just write up an equation to get her out of the cell. But vi never cooperated with him. “That’s it.” Rowan smiled, another idea popping into his head. “Fig, do you see the vi around us?”

  “The glowbobs?”

  “The...” Rowan trailed off, confused by her word choice. He motioned to a globule of vi to which Achaia nodded. “Okay, yes: the glowbobs. Can you arrange them for me?”

  “Um—”

  “Start with the one closest to you, please.”

  “Okay,” Achaia responded, trying to heed his instruction. “This one?”

  “Yep. Next you’re going to link it to the one at my right foot, like a squiggle.”

  “It feels weird.”

  “Yeah, like a handful of squish or something, right?” Achaia giggled at Rowan’s response. “Can you do me another favor, Fig?”

  “Um, okay?” Achaia nervously responded as she stood on her tippy toes, trying to write the equation Rowan requested.

  “Can you imagine the softest thing you ever touched? Like feathers. Have you ever touched a whole bunch of feathers all at once?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “They’re soft, Fig. And they’re shaped like this,” Rowan said, pantomiming a feather’s shape. “Can you picture that for me?”

  Achaia closed her eyes after tracing out Rowan’s request, gripping the bars of the cell between them while imagining what feathers would feel like. The bars at her hands were rigid and sturdy, yet they slowly felt malleable and light. Achaia opened her eyes in surprise as she fell forward, past a series of feathers, not a single bar of metal in her way. She cried out in shock as Rowan caught her. Everything had gone according to plan, except Rowan neglected to consider how physically tired he’d be at this point. It took everything to hold Achaia in his arms, so when he fell backwards and they both dropped from the cage, Rowan was equal parts panicked and unsurprised.

  “Tower,” Rowan called out, but the Tower of Zchēve was already keen on the situation. They stretched out their arms, catching Rowan who still had Achaia in his grasp.

  Rowan panted and giggled nervously, having never been so close to the nameless one without being asphyxiated. “Thanks.”

  The gleeful gurgles of the K?dra disrupted the moment as it charged back around for the trio. The nameless one lacked the necessary time to usher the pair on like they’d done with Rowan earlier. Instead, they hurled Rowan to the side. He clutched Achaia tightly, trying to protect her from the ground. A few scrapes and throbs of pain as they tumbled was a small price to pay to avoid the K?dra again. Rowan, still shielding Achaia and now on his knees, looked up at the K?dra’s attack. A wave of arms balled their fists and came down at the nameless one like an onslaught of cannonballs. The tower dodged to the left, then to the right, dancing amidst the strikes until one inevitably caught their helm dead on. Rowan let out a sharp gasp as the tower deflected the K?dra, sending it careening into one of the last stony surfaces left for it to crash against.

  “Are you alri—”

  The words couldn’t escape Rowan’s mouth: his eyes were trained on the broken helm of the nameless one. The groove that met the notch cracked and splintered apart, leaving little intact above where the nameless’ nose would be—if they had one—until his eyes caught the top of the helm where it still held on. The tower’s snarl of frustration was far more audible as the K?dra came back around. It fumbled and bounded like it had in the maze the first time Rowan saw it, picking up speed.

  “Look out.” Rowan cried out as it crashed into his ally, swallowing them up into its maw of arms. Rowan’s breath shook as he exhaled, his heart pounding in fear. It was happening again. “No.”

  Rowan released Achaia and broke into a mad dash, bolting directly into the K?dra.

  “Wait.” Achaia reached out to try and stop Rowan, to no avail.

  It was a needle in a needlestack, but he found the nameless one’s hand just the same.

  “Don’t go, please.”

  Rowan panted as he gripped their hand tightly. Just like before, there was no give from the K?dra; instead of Rowan pulling his ally free, the many arms of the K?dra were slowly pulling Rowan in. He didn’t let go, he grit his teeth, clenched his eyes shut, and pulled harder. Rowan was surprised at his own vigor, his roar of ferocity growing louder. No, wait, it wasn’t his screaming at all: it was a woman’s howl filling his ears. A sound Rowan could only equate to leather being sheared ascended over the screams as the light of the screens above broke through the creature. Rowan opened his eyes slowly, poking his head through a gaping hole in the K?dra, leaving it nothing but a mass of blood and lifeless arms. Rowan’s eyes trailed up the hand he held, following the nameless’s limb to their face, hidden no more as the helm finally gave way.

  Her ashen gray face looked like a work of art carved out of the very stone-like surfaces around them, her jaw defined and angular. Her nose was slender, but pronounced, twitching in what he presumed to be hostility. Her lips were thin as she parted them, licking the blood of the slain creature from her face. Her hair, Law, her hair: Rowan had never seen such a deep shade of garnet. Individual follicles were matted together—Rowan assumed this to be due to the helm—but the vibrant color took his breath away. Bangs fell just short of covering her eyes, scarlet and intense in their gaze. She was no tower or nameless creature. She was beautiful.

  She looked up at the screens overhead and Rowan couldn’t help but think her gaze was similar to a newborn taking in a world beyond its understanding. With mouth agape, she roared, tears trailing down her face. Her grip was tight and sharp; Rowan felt like her nails might pierce his skin at any moment. But he masked his pain. Right now, she needed to know that someone was there. And Rowan wanted her to know it was him.