I stare into the darkness, and it stares back at me. A hand with long, clawed fingers suddenly bursts from the unfathomable black, slicing through the night, before plunging into the formless mass of Sap. The thick liquid, golden as honey, runs from its palm in sluggish rivers as the entity slowly lifts it toward itself. Suddenly, an eye flares in the gloom, like a baleful flame. A carnivorous grin reveals itself, as if the darkness itself bore fangs. A tongue snakes out of its maw and begins lapping at the amber fluid… It licks its chops, mandibles shivering with ecstasy, like those of a gluttonous god born of chthonic depths. And its eye… its eye takes on the hue of a blood moon, suspended in the night sky.

Beware.

It’s not often that Maw warns me to be cautious. His scales rasp at the edge of my consciousness, like those of a coiled viper ready to strike, his undulations more convulsive, fearful, and wary than usual. My heart hammers, cold sweat beads on my skin. If I only listen, I can hear a cacophony of moans rising from its gaping throat—a multitude of laments woven into one, a single sinister rumble.

I take a step back and force myself not to give in to fear. My gaze turns to Teija who, eyes closed and legs crossed, meditates atop one of the memory blocks, Fen at her side. Through my blurred vision—waves of milkiness and half-lit silhouettes—I see the dendrites of the Skein spreading around her, like the tentacles of a sea anemone closing in on prey. Except here, we are not the predators.

Here, we are the feast.

---------------------------------

I extend my rootlets as rhizomes slip through the humus.

I try to focus on its consciousness, to touch it without startling, without shoving. But it’s like striking a block of granite. Still, I don’t give up. I know Nauraa is here to shield me, to help me. So I keep extending my filaments, searching for the slightest fissure, the smallest crack… Beneath the hunger, the affliction, the suffering, there must be—deep within it—a remnant of the child it once was, and it’s her I want to awaken.

I dig, and dig deeper still. Its memories pour across my mind like acid. They reek of bitterness, abandonment, incomprehension. The soil of its soul has been poisoned by so many noxious ideas that it’s turned sterile, spoiled, caustic. Yet the further I plunge, the more joyful recollections respond—even if each is tainted by grief’s poison, by madness’s venom.

I hear weeping.

The crushing impression is of wandering desolate plains, endless gray oceans, disenchanted, forsaken jungles. But as a seed can split stone, I hold firm and work patiently. The instant and eternity blur, and the shell begins to crack.

It’s like a flood suddenly bursting around me: a thousand memories of joyful times spill forth, rolling over me like waves upon a shore. They’re so intense that for a moment, I fear drowning in euphoria, delight, intoxication. But I feel Nauraa’s maw seize me, and thanks to him I manage to keep my head above the tide.

Then I see her—floating, as if within a bubble of mead. Like oil suspended in water, the sphere glimmers, pinned in a sea of darkness. Inside, curled in the fetal position, lies a little girl with honey-gold skin and hair, fast asleep. In her golden cradle she dreams, weaving from the memories devoured by the Hunger the substance of her own reveries.

She is a dormant seed, waiting to bloom again. She is an egg in suspension, yearning only to be reborn… My fibrils wrap her gently, as if to cradle, as if to warm her, ready to call her back to life.

Wake up, little one. Morning has come, and the sun is shining.

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Tingling creeps along my hands and forearms. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Teija’s consciousness, seeking contact. But beyond her mind, I feel the pressure of the Hunger’s soul, like breath on my neck. The monster is a defense mechanism, a shell. Deep inside, there is a child weeping. Abandonment, betrayal, solitude intertwine, and my heart tightens as those feelings flood me. Juju lands on my shoulder and pinches my cheek to snap me out of the stupor. His beak jabs, jabs, jabs, and I return to myself.

I draw inward, goosebumps prickling my arms, a shudder running through me. I draw from my Ignescence, from my emotions, my memories… My grandfather, when he placed his hand on my cheek. The regret of not realizing it would be the last time. The shock when the Matriarchs pronounced our excommunication. Deeper still, when my mother left, never to return…

Abandonment. Betrayal. Solitude.

My being ignites as I forge these emotions into my armor, projecting my mind toward the Hunger. But within myself I conjure a thousand other emotions, other recollections. All of us together by the fire, on the deck of the Ouroboros. Aru’s smile. The roar of the crowd as I look out over the audience at the end of a concert, our hands joined in salute—Crowbar, Tam, Boona, Orbec by my side. The sweat dripping from my nose, my heart hammering. And Nev’s antics that always make me laugh.

Reunion. Loyalty. Presence.

The honey girl opens her eyes, and I reach out slowly. For a suspended moment, she only watches me—hesitant, shy.

What’s your name?

She narrows her eyes, as if trying to remember. Then her voice rings out, crystalline, like a sunbeam. Her hand reaches back toward mine.

Sofia.

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The Axiom’s machines had pierced the old cistern, and the Sap had burst out in thick torrents. It flooded into the arena, forming a stagnant golden pool. The Hunger wasted no time sniffing out the offering—which was, in truth, a trap.

The abomination is lapping at the substance, gorging on it, stuffing itself. Like a hyena gnawing at a carcass. I grit my teeth at where they’ve positioned themselves. Too close. Far too exposed. The beast would only need to stretch out its hand to seize them. Then just squeeze…

Gulrang waits for my signal, and I cannot count on Waru, who remained at the surface. Still, I hold my arm back. One sign from me, and hell will break loose. Akesha and Afanas stand ready, the latter’s gaze locked on mine. The Bravos wait too, tense, weapons bared. Basira cracks her knuckles, Kai licks his chops.

Trust me, she had told me. We can save her.

I had let myself be convinced, even against instinct. Even against tactical prudence. We had all debated to devise the battle plan, and though each Exalt gave an opinion, we voted by Faction. The Axiom could not risk letting the Hunger drain what little Sap remained. The Yzmir could not tolerate the existence of a creature that could siphon minds. And the Bravos… they were always eager for a fight.

The Muna and the Lyra had argued against elimination, insisting the city could be soothed. Fen and Teija had been the most vocal, and the others rallied behind them—out of compassion, or out of sloth. In the end, the Ordis were left to decide. Waru had given me the responsibility to choose, even though he believed it would be a shame to lose a witness to ages past. Gulrang, meanwhile, cared only for the Corps’ safety… In the end, it was decided to let Teija and Fen try—but to be ready to act if the attempt failed.

My fist clenches, but I restrain it. For her, I hold back hell. Yet doubt gnaws at me. Even with our mental walls raised against the Oblivion, could the Hunger break through, sucking their essence like liquid through a straw?

I watch as the beast’s breath coils around her like serpents. Her features strain with effort. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s crumbling her mind, stealing her identity brick by brick?

Through the Heka, I summon the Gestalt’s Rhombus and press it to a memory block, as Waru did. Even from a distance, maybe this way I can ensure her safety—see if he’s fragmenting her soul…

---------------------------------

My mind is a placid pond. Petals fall sometimes on its surface, sending ripples that collide and intertwine. My eyes gaze inward as much as outward. Suddenly, a wind rises, agitating the waters. The calm is broken. A black wind, herald of storm. A surge of murder.

I leap before even opening my eyes, like lightning splitting the sky to strike a treetop. I aim for the eye, of course. I want to pierce its core. No half-measures. The strike is meant to kill.

Ember.

Suddenly, I feel the weight of its gaze. The merciless eye fixes on me, and instinctively I hurl myself back, cutting the strike at the last instant. For one fraction of a heartbeat, I felt my death. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kojo rush ahead, fist blazing with fire. He hasn’t felt the danger. He hasn’t sensed he’s about to be snuffed out like a candle.

My feet find purchase on a black block, as new bursts of lightning crackle around me. I spring forward again, thunder crashing. The eye has turned toward Kojo—an opening I cannot waste. My jian crackles with lightning as Surge fuses to my stump, taking the form of my missing arm. Through my Alter Ego’s awareness, for a moment, I am whole again.

My blade drives into the vertical pupil. Wisps of violet smoke hiss as they burst forth. Lightning pierces, strikes, lashes in rapid succession, and from the gaping wound a dark cloud spills out, engulfing me.

I shove Kojo back as hard as I can, just enough to keep the maw from snapping shut on him, from the fangs tearing into him.

---------------------------------

Something has shifted. As if a switch has been activated. The monster’s stance turned from indifference to aggression. I’d felt it in my gut, that weight, that sudden sense of danger. As if it had sensed an intrusion—an abrupt invasion.

Atsadi and Kojo didn’t wait for any signal. They hurled themselves forward. In a storm of fire and lightning, the creature screeches and thrashes, as all around me the memory blocks begin a chaotic, warped dance.

You’ll only intervene as a last resort, they told me.

My finger hovers, tight on the button. I hold back—even as everything unravels, even as fury radiates from the polyhedra as they twist and recombine. The whole labyrinth shudders, a mad fractal dance.

‘Treyst!’

I don’t know who shouted, but the cry whips me like a lash. I can’t hesitate anymore. I can’t afford to. Click. My thumb slams the button.

It begins with a dull roar, far above our heads, spreading down from the upper levels of the maze into the depths. The charges go off one by one, a chain of successive explosions. Soon the detonations cluster into blazing bursts, shattering the memory blocks and striking their Aerolith cores. In a furious chain reaction, every cube detonates, while a rain of rubble cascades down toward us.

I barely glimpse Akesha moving—slowing the collapse—as portals tear reality open like gaping wounds. Mages seize us one by one, hauling us to safety, whisking us away before the cataclysm buries us.

In the depths, a blinding flare detonates in the dark, like a miniature sun. I squeeze my eyes shut, shielding myself from the brilliance—relentless, merciless—that would sear my sight.

---------------------------------

I pace the deck of the Ouroboros.

Beneath the glass floor, the Crow’s Eye gapes like a maw ready to snap shut in a venomous bite. I’ve had no word from the Exalts deployed below. Only five remain at the surface; the rest are deep in that yawning pit, which could close on them like a coffin…

‘Admiral, the Ex—’

The officer doesn’t finish. Suddenly, a pillar of light rips the night, surging from the abyss like cannon fire. The blazing column spears the clouds and splits the sky, drowning everything in a yellow, inquisitorial glow. I look away, as others shield their faces with hands or raise arms to block it.

Blinking forcefully, I dare to open my eyes again after a brief instant. The incandescent spire reaches heaven, a celestial spike binding earth to sky. It hangs there for what feels like eternity. Then I feel impressions—fleeting sensations layered over perception: laughter, a joyful dance, the delight of wandering corridors, stairways, vast halls whose every wall gleams with the golden glow of Sap. A feeling of inexhaustible happiness, of love, of freedom. A sense of fullness—as a little girl’s fingers pluck a forget-me-not bloom…

Then these memory-fragments wither, dissolving like mist before the dawn. The light vanishes as suddenly as it came, and darkness embraces us once again.

‘What happened? I want the preliminary reports, now!’

‘The Exalts have been brought back to the surface. Confirmation of an explosion in the lower levels.’

I allow myself a sigh of relief.

‘Send medics and rescue crews immediately.’

‘Yes, Admiral!’

So, they must have gone to plan B. Which means the Hunger…

As I begin to weigh the implications of that decision, a glow suddenly blooms in the distance, beyond the Screed’s cliffs, beyond even the clouds. If it weren’t the middle of the night, I’d think it the first light of dawn. But no—the sun won’t rise for hours. Instead, it’s another column of light, identical to the one that just split the sky, rising far away, piercing the heavens. I judge the distances quickly… It must be leagues from here.

‘What…’

Commodore Jeanty can’t stifle a gasp as his eyes fix on the horizon. I myself stand dumbstruck, staring at the blazing spine.

It looks like a signal, sent to us from who-knows-where.