The heart was still beating.
That was the first thing Qaritas checked.
Not the mountain they had apparently murdered.
Not the forest they'd carved open for several kilometres.
Not the enormous black trees disappearing so far into silver mist that their crowns might as well have belonged to another world.
The heart.
THUM.
A pause.
Too long.
Then—
THUM.
Weak.
Irregular.
But there.
Qaritas remained inside the ruined command chamber with one hand pressed against a wall that felt disturbingly warm beneath his palm.
The flesh twitched.
Barely.
Pain answered him through the remnants of the neural connection.
Not his pain.
The ship's.
Broken ribs.
Torn membranes.
A missing wing.
Cracked bone plating.
Internal bleeding.
Something near the stern had either ruptured or ceased existing entirely.
The creature didn't possess words for most of those things.
It possessed sensation.
Pressure.
Hunger.
Fear.
And beneath all of it—
the stubborn biological insistence to remain alive.
Qaritas exhaled.
"You're still here."
The wall contracted beneath his hand.
He decided to interpret that positively.
Behind him, Xheavend was climbing through what used to be a doorway and was now mostly torn muscle wrapped around shattered bone.
"Is it alive?"
"Unfortunately."
She paused.
"Unfortunately?"
Qaritas looked over his shoulder.
"It stabbed me repeatedly, screamed directly into my mind, flew upside down, ignored every direction I gave it, and attempted to turn my organs sideways."
"It got us here."
"It put us through a mountain."
"We survived."
"The mountain may not have."
Xheavend considered that.
"Skill issue."
Qaritas stared at her.
She walked past him.
He followed.
The corpse-ship's mouth had been torn partially open during impact.
One enormous jaw rested crookedly against the ground outside, teeth buried several metres into dark soil.
Silver mist drifted through the opening.
Cold air touched Qaritas's face.
He stepped over black cartilage.
Then stopped.
Not because something attacked him.
Because for several seconds—
he genuinely forgot how to move.
The corpse-ship had seemed enormous in space.
It had swallowed both him and Xheavend without effort.
Its ribs had formed corridors.
Its heart had occupied a chamber larger than some houses.
Its wings had stretched across darkness.
Now—
lying broken beneath the forest—
it looked small.
The trees made it small.
Qaritas slowly tilted his head back.
And kept tilting.
The nearest trunk was matte black.
Not dark brown.
Not gray.
Black.
It rose so wide that half the corpse-ship could have fit behind it without Qaritas seeing the other side.
The surface wasn't smooth.
Long vertical ridges climbed through the bark, interrupted by faint veins of deep blue and metallic silver.
Higher.
Higher.
Higher.
The trunk disappeared into silver mist.
And continued.
Hundreds of metres overhead, through occasional breaks in the drifting haze, Qaritas caught glimpses of enormous branches stretching outward.
No leaves.
Instead—
millions of narrow black ribbons hung from the canopy.
They moved together.
Slowly.
Almost rhythmically.
Like an ocean suspended above the world.
Qaritas stared.
Beside him, Xheavend emerged through the corpse-ship's ruined jaw.
She stopped too.
For once—
neither of them said anything.
The world didn't need help being strange.
The sky visible through the canopy was blue-green.
Turquoise fading toward gray.
Clouds moved behind the hanging ribbons.
Silver-white beneath.
Darker above.
The daylight reaching the ground was weak and diffused.
Not darkness.
Not quite twilight.
Something between.
Enough light to reveal the mist sliding between the trees.
Enough to reveal the ground.
Qaritas looked down.
Grass.
Except—
not grass he recognized.
Dense blades surrounded the corpse-ship's trench.
Almost black at the roots.
Deep indigo farther upward.
Violet near the tips.
Each blade ended in a thin metallic-silver edge.
And every one contained a faint blue-white line.
The wreck had flattened kilometres of it.
Where the ship had struck—
the grass was glowing.
Qaritas frowned.
Not merely where burning debris rested.
The light was spreading.
A pale pulse moved outward from beneath the corpse-ship.
Across one patch.
Into another.
Then farther.
And farther.
Blue-white lines raced beneath the violet-black field like nerves firing under skin.
Xheavend crouched.
"That's interesting."
"That's one word."
She reached toward a blade.
Qaritas watched her fingers hover.
She touched it.
The plant flattened slightly.
Light flashed through its center.
Then—
pulse.
Nearby grass answered.
A ring of pale illumination spread outward around her hand.
Xheavend slowly withdrew.
Qaritas watched the glow travel ten metres.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Disappear behind silver mist.
He looked toward the enormous trench they'd carved through the forest.
Every damaged section was pulsing.
Every place the corpse-ship had touched.
Every broken piece scattered through the trees.
Every impact.
Every trail.
Their crash had written itself across the landscape in light.
Qaritas stared for another moment.
Then said:
"That's probably bad."
Xheavend looked at the kilometres of glowing grass.
"You think?"
"Could be decorative."
"It's announcing where we landed."
"Decoratively."
She gave him a look.
Qaritas chose not to acknowledge it.
Something beneath the ground moved.
His hand went immediately toward his weapon.
Xheavend straightened.
The soil near the corpse-ship shifted.
Not violently.
Slowly.
A thick black root curled away from the wreckage.
Then another.
Then several more.
Qaritas watched in silence.
The roots belonged to the colossal trees.
Some were wider than he was tall.
They had been exposed by impact.
Now they were withdrawing.
Not simply from damaged earth.
From the corpse-ship.
One slid backward beneath the soil.
Another contracted around a shattered section.
A third pulled itself from beneath one of the creature's broken ribs.
The movement traveled outward.
Trees farther away responded.
Not all at once.
A wave.
Subtle.
One root.
Then another.
Then another.
As though information were passing beneath them.
Qaritas's expression changed.
Xheavend noticed.
"What?"
He watched a root several dozen metres away withdraw despite never having touched the wreckage.
"Nothing."
"That's never reassuring when you say it."
"I think the trees are reacting to us."
Xheavend looked around.
Hundreds of enormous black trunks vanished upward into mist.
"All of them?"
"I was hoping you'd tell me no."
She watched another root retreat.
"I don't know."
"Excellent."
A faint vibration traveled beneath Qaritas's boots.
Not enough to shake anything.
More like—
a pulse.
Then gone.
For the briefest second, Qaritas had the unpleasant sensation that they'd landed on something rather than somewhere.
He dismissed it.
Mostly because there were already too many immediate problems.
The corpse-ship remained alive.
Barely.
They needed Galathan.
They needed Krsangawi.
They needed to determine whether this planet contained anything remotely capable of helping them.
And Xheavend—
Qaritas glanced toward her.
She was looking into the forest.
Too still.
Her sleeve had torn during the crash.
Beneath pale skin, one dark vein remained faintly visible.
Black Elixir.
Fading.
Qaritas looked away before she noticed him looking.
There would be time for that.
Hopefully.
Something exploded underneath the nearest root.
Qaritas spun.
Dozens of tiny shapes launched from the dirt.
Then hundreds.
Round bodies.
Long ears.
Four powerful hind limbs.
Two smaller forelimbs pressed against soft chests.
They scattered around the exposed roots in complete panic.
One stopped.
Stared directly at Qaritas.
Its stomach glowed gold.
Qaritas narrowed his eyes.
"Don't."
The creature's ears snapped upright.
Its belly brightened.
"Don't—"
FLASH.
White-gold light filled Qaritas's vision.
He recoiled.
"AH—"
Another flashed.
Then another.
Then apparently every single creature in the colony decided solidarity required ocular warfare.
FLASH.
FLASH.
FLASH.
FLASH.
Hundreds of golden bursts erupted beneath the roots.
Qaritas covered his eyes.
"I'm blind."
Xheavend laughed.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
That alone made Qaritas tolerate the attack approximately three seconds longer than he otherwise would have.
The creatures bolted.
Tiny feet vanished through violet grass.
Gold lights flickered between roots.
Then they were gone.
Qaritas lowered his hands.
His vision contained several suns that absolutely did not belong there.
"I hate those."
Xheavend was still smiling.
"They were adorable."
"They attacked my eyes."
"You frightened them."
"They started it."
"You walked out of a corpse."
"So did you."
"They didn't look at me."
"Clearly better instincts."
Something shrieked overhead.
Both looked up.
Large creatures moved between the black branches.
Birdlike—
but not.
Dark blue-black feathers.
Silver tips.
Four legs tucked beneath elongated bodies.
Two smaller limbs folded against their chests.
Their tails spread behind them into enormous circular membranes.
They didn't flap.
They glided.
One passed between shafts of pale daylight and vanished into mist.
Another followed.
Then six more.
Xheavend watched them disappear.
"Those are pretty."
"Everything here is pretty."
"You're saying that like it's a problem."
"It has been my experience that when an unknown planet makes something unusually beautiful, the beauty is often attached to teeth."
"Those didn't have teeth."
"You didn't inspect them."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
Something moved farther through the trees.
Not above.
Ground level.
Qaritas saw blue.
Then dozens of blue lights.
A herd burst through the mist.
Six-legged animals approximately the size of large deer.
Low bodies.
Charcoal fur.
Translucent overlapping plates covered their backs, each glowing pale blue.
Twenty.
Thirty.
More.
They raced between colossal roots.
But Qaritas wasn't watching the animals.
He was watching the ground.
Where they ran—
the violet grass answered.
Every hoof strike created a tiny pulse.
Dozens became hundreds.
Hundreds joined into flowing rivers of blue-white light.
For several seconds, the herd was partly hidden by mist but remained visible through its movement alone.
A luminous path raced beneath them.
Then faded.
Qaritas's eyes narrowed.
Xheavend noticed.
"What?"
"The grass."
"What about it?"
"It showed us where they were even after we couldn't see them."
She followed the fading trail.
"Oh."
Another pulse farther away.
Probably another animal.
Smaller.
Faster.
Qaritas slowly looked across the forest floor.
The grass wasn't decoration.
It was information.
He simply didn't know the language.
Wonderful.
They'd landed on a world where the lawn knew more than he did.
Again.
Something moved between the trees.
This time—
large.
Very large.
The same shape Qaritas had seen after the crash.
His humor vanished.
Twenty metres away?
No.
Farther.
Much farther.
The scale of the trees had distorted distance.
A black leg emerged through silver mist.
Long.
Segmented.
It planted itself against the ground.
The impact barely made a sound.
Then another leg.
Another.
A body followed.
Xheavend went still.
Qaritas's hand closed around his weapon.
The creature towered above the surrounding undergrowth.
More than twenty metres.
Possibly much more.
Its body looked assembled rather than grown.
Polished black stone.
Sections of metallic bone.
Translucent crystalline plates.
Long articulated limbs.
Golden fractures ran through it.
Not wounds.
Natural lines.
They glowed from within.
For one moment Qaritas thought—
Spider.
Then decided that description was insulting to spiders.
Xheavend spoke quietly.
"Is it coming toward us?"
Qaritas watched.
The creature moved sideways between two Kaereth.
One leg passed through the silver mist.
Then another.
Its body rotated.
Not toward them.
Toward the trees.
"No."
They remained still.
A structure beneath the creature opened.
Something bright emerged.
A thread.
Translucent.
Liquid at first.
Then solid.
The filament shot toward one enormous trunk.
THNK.
It attached.
Another stretched toward a neighboring tree.
THNK.
Then another.
Then another.
The creature moved with deliberate precision.
Crystal hardened behind it.
A geometric lattice appeared between the trunks.
Qaritas slowly lowered his weapon.
Xheavend stared.
"It's making something."
"It appears so."
More crystal.
A support.
A curve.
Then a second layer.
Qaritas tilted his head.
"It's making a bridge."
Xheavend's expression softened.
"That's nice."
The creature paused.
One long leg moved.
A dead animal lay half-hidden beneath the grass.
Something small.
Possibly killed in the crash.
The creature extended another filament.
It attached directly to the corpse.
Qaritas stared.
Another filament wrapped around it.
The body was lifted.
Integrated into the forming structure.
Pause.
Qaritas:
"Less nice."
Xheavend nodded.
"Much less nice."
Neither moved closer.
The enormous creature continued building.
It hadn't attacked.
Hadn't threatened.
Hadn't even acknowledged them.
That somehow made Qaritas more cautious.
Predators he understood.
Territory he understood.
Violence usually announced itself eventually.
This thing—
was simply obeying rules neither of them knew.
And apparently one rule included:
Dead body qualifies as construction material.
Qaritas looked toward the wreckage behind them.
Then at the creature.
Then back to the corpse-ship.
"No."
Xheavend looked at him.
"What?"
"If that thing starts building with the ship, we're killing it."
"It might improve it."
Qaritas stared at her.
She smiled faintly.
"Too soon?"
"Entirely."
They moved away.
Slowly.
No sudden motions.
No reason to encourage the architectural nightmare to discover whether Qaritas would improve a wall.
The silver mist thickened around another group of black trunks.
This one looked different.
Qaritas didn't notice at first.
That bothered him later.
The trunk was thick.
Dark.
Its surface carried orange lines.
He assumed minerals.
Then one of the roots moved.
Qaritas stopped so quickly Xheavend nearly passed him.
She turned.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
The root shifted again.
Not retracting.
Walking.
A heavy black appendage slowly detached itself from the ground and settled several metres farther away.
Qaritas looked up.
The "tree" was shorter than the Kaereth.
Still enormous.
Perhaps thirty metres.
Its upper structure broadened into a giant mushroom-like crown.
Thousands of glowing strands hung beneath it.
Orange veins pulsed throughout the trunk.
Beautiful.
Very beautiful.
Which immediately made Qaritas distrust it.
Xheavend took one step closer.
Qaritas's hand moved automatically.
He almost caught her wrist.
Almost.
Goro's voice arrived from memory before his fingers reached her.
Don't decide her choices for her.
Qaritas stopped.
His hand remained between them for half a second.
Then lowered.
"Xheavend."
She looked back.
He pointed.
The root lifted.
Moved.
Set itself down again.
Xheavend stared.
Then immediately stepped backward.
"That's not a tree."
"Excellent observation."
"It looked like one."
"Still does."
The luminous strands beneath the crown swayed despite the lack of wind.
Tiny particles drifted around them.
Glowing.
Almost like dust.
Xheavend watched.
"They're pretty."
"Which means we should leave."
"You've developed a prejudice against beauty."
"I've developed pattern recognition."
They backed away.
Neither knew that the glowing particles were spores.
Neither knew that enough inhalation could seed something inside lungs.
Neither knew those roots would eventually walk toward the infected.
Or perhaps—
the infected would walk toward them.
They only knew that something pretending to be a tree had moved.
That was enough.
For now.
The planet apparently rewarded cowardice.
Qaritas was beginning to respect it.
A shadow crossed overhead.
He looked up.
Nothing visible.
Then—
a piece of wreckage beside him rose from the ground.
Qaritas watched it.
A strip of black bone.
Perhaps twenty kilograms.
It floated.
Slowly.
Silver mist curled beneath it.
Another piece rose.
Then a stone.
Then several violet blades of grass tore free and drifted upward.
Xheavend stared.
"Q."
"I know."
A pebble floated past his face.
She watched it.
"Why are the rocks floating?"
Qaritas looked toward the sky.
"Because apparently gravity has resigned."
Through a break in the canopy—
something enormous drifted behind the clouds.
At first Qaritas thought it was another cloud.
Then the cloud moved against the wind.
Translucent tissue stretched horizontally across hundreds of metres.
Possibly farther.
A flattened organism.
Jellyfish-like.
Dozens of tendrils trailed behind it.
At its center—
a black sphere.
Perfectly black.
Not reflecting daylight.
Not glowing.
Just—
there.
The air felt wrong.
Qaritas's weight decreased.
His next step carried him farther than expected.
Xheavend rose several centimetres before catching the edge of a root.
"Q."
"I see it."
More wreckage lifted.
A corpse-ship rib shifted behind them.
Qaritas froze.
Not because he saw it move.
Because he felt the ship react.
Fear slammed through the surviving neural thread.
Sharp.
Animal.
Immediate.
The corpse-ship's heart accelerated.
THUM.
THUM.
THUM.
The creature knew the thing above them.
Or at least understood what it did.
A section of torn wing rose from the trench.
Qaritas turned.
"Oh, absolutely not."
He ran.
Xheavend followed.
The reduced gravity made every stride wrong.
Each step launched Qaritas farther than expected.
He caught one exposed rib.
Pulled himself toward the ship.
Another piece rose.
Then several hundred kilograms of black bone dragged itself upward.
The corpse-ship screamed through the neural thread.
Not aloud.
Inside him.
Qaritas's teeth clenched.
"Stop panicking."
The ship panicked harder.
"That's extremely hypocritical coming from you," Xheavend called.
"I learned from experience."
"You panicked during the entire landing."
"I PANICKED PRODUCTIVELY."
"You screamed that you were panicking!"
"Communication is important!"
The enormous translucent thing moved past the canopy opening.
Its black center shifted.
For a moment—
gravity changed direction.
Everything pulled sideways.
Mist.
Grass.
Loose stones.
A broken corpse-ship plate.
Qaritas nearly lost his grip.
Then—
the pressure released.
The creature continued away.
Objects dropped.
All at once.
CRASH.
THUD.
CRACK.
Qaritas ducked as wreckage slammed into the ground.
Xheavend covered her head.
Several stones punched into the Shaal.
Light erupted through the grass.
Blue-white ripples raced outward.
Silence returned gradually.
Qaritas looked up.
The creature was disappearing through the clouds.
The corpse-ship's heart slowed.
THUM.
Pause.
THUM.
Qaritas remained still.
Xheavend straightened.
"What was that?"
"I have no idea."
"Good."
"Why is that good?"
"Because every time you do know what something is, it's usually worse."
Qaritas considered that.
"Fair."
He looked back at the corpse-ship.
Its damaged body had shifted almost a metre.
That was a problem.
A very large problem.
Whatever lived above them had responded to gravity.
And their ship had just survived a gravity reef.
Its damaged systems were probably broadcasting exactly the wrong sort of signal.
Qaritas rubbed a hand across his face.
"We need to repair this thing quickly."
Xheavend looked toward the sky.
"Before that comes back."
"Yes."
"Or something worse finds us."
"Why would you say that?"
She gestured broadly at the planet.
Qaritas followed the motion.
Black trees.
Silver fog.
Glowing grass.
Moving architecture.
Walking fungus.
Gravity-eating sky creature.
"...Fair."
He climbed back into the corpse-ship.
The smell inside had changed.
Blood.
Burned tissue.
Something sharp and metallic.
The corridor contracted weakly around him.
Xheavend followed.
Qaritas moved toward the command chamber.
Several passages were blocked by collapsed ribs.
One muscular doorway had sealed permanently.
Another opened only halfway, forcing them beneath hanging tissue.
The heart beat somewhere below.
Weak.
Patient.
Alive.
They reached the ruined command chamber.
Half the viewing organs were dead.
Others blinked irregularly across the walls.
Some displayed the forest outside.
Some showed internal cavities.
One was staring at Qaritas from an angle he found unnecessarily intimate.
"Stop that."
The eye blinked.
Xheavend looked at him.
"Are you arguing with the ship?"
"It started."
"Of course."
The vertebral chair had cracked but remained intact.
Neural tendrils hung from behind it.
Qaritas looked at them.
Then at Xheavend.
"No."
She crossed her arms.
"You need to know what's damaged."
"I already know what's damaged."
"What?"
"Everything."
"Q."
"No."
"Q."
"They stab."
"They connect you."
"Through stabbing."
"Sit down."
"You've become remarkably authoritarian."
"Sit."
Qaritas stared at her.
Then sat.
"I hate everyone."
One tendril lifted.
Qaritas pointed.
"Don't."
It stabbed into his back.
"SON OF A—"
The world vanished.
Then expanded.
Pain.
Everywhere.
Not metaphorically.
He became aware of the corpse-ship again.
Its surviving eyes.
Its blood.
Its broken bones.
Its torn wing.
Its heart.
Its ruined organs.
The forest pressed against its skin.
Silver mist entered open wounds.
Foreign microorganisms touched exposed tissue.
The ship's immune system reacted weakly.
Fear.
Hunger.
Damage.
Need.
Images didn't form exactly.
Concepts did.
Pressure.
Structure.
Something hard.
Something flexible.
Something capable of becoming bone.
Something that carried energy.
Liquid.
Clean liquid.
Material to rebuild tissue.
Qaritas closed his eyes.
The ship pushed harder.
METAL.
Not a word.
A category.
Dense.
Strong.
Something that could become support.
Then—
WATER.
Fluid.
Cooling.
Circulation.
Life.
CRYSTAL.
Hard.
Light.
Compression.
Armor.
FLESH.
Biological matter.
Protein.
Cells.
Repair.
Qaritas's face tightened.
More followed.
Energy.
Fuel.
Something associated with the damaged gravitational organs.
A missing sensation where one system should have existed.
The ship couldn't explain what replacement it required because it had never expected to need one.
Apparently nobody designed living corpse vessels with user-serviceable components.
Rude.
Qaritas opened his eyes.
Xheavend stood beside the chair.
"What?"
He breathed carefully.
"It needs metal."
"Okay."
"Water."
"Fine."
"Crystal."
"Possible."
"Flesh."
She paused.
"Whose?"
"I didn't ask."
"You should ask."
"I don't think it's particular."
"That somehow makes it worse."
Qaritas grimaced as another surge went through the tendrils.
"It needs energy."
"Obviously."
"Something for the gravity system."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"What kind of something?"
"I don't know."
"Can it tell you?"
Qaritas focused.
The ship answered with pain.
He flinched.
"Apparently not."
"What did it say?"
"Nothing useful."
The neural connection pulsed again.
Material.
Water.
Crystal.
Flesh.
Energy.
Gravity.
Qaritas stared ahead.
"That's remarkably unspecific."
The tendril sent a sharp electrical pain straight through his spine.
"OW!"
Xheavend didn't even attempt to hide her smile.
"Maybe don't insult the thing connected to your nervous system."
"I was providing constructive criticism."
Another shock.
"OW."
"Seems receptive."
"I hate this ship."
The heart below them beat harder.
Qaritas felt offended emotion through the connection.
He slowly looked toward the wall.
"...You understood that?"
A muscular valve opened and slammed shut.
Xheavend laughed.
Qaritas stared at the ceiling.
"Wonderful."
For several seconds he remained connected.
Long enough to understand one additional thing.
The ship could regenerate.
Given enough material.
It could regrow muscle.
Repair membranes.
Rebuild sections of living hull.
Possibly even replace part of its damaged wing.
But not everything.
Some of what had broken wasn't biological.
There were structures buried inside the corpse that weren't bone or flesh.
Dark support material.
Crystalline reinforcement.
Devices interacting with gravity and space.
The corpse had been turned into technology.
Which meant they needed actual resources.
Not merely food.
Qaritas disconnected.
The tendrils withdrew.
He stood slowly.
His back hurt.
His patience hurt.
His dignity had been dead for several chapters.
Xheavend leaned against the damaged wall.
"So."
"So."
"We're stranded."
"Temporarily."
"On a planet we don't know."
"Yes."
"With monsters."
"Unconfirmed."
She stared at him.
Qaritas reconsidered.
"Confirmed."
"And Yzer knows where I am."
There it was.
The humor left.
The dark vein beneath Xheavend's torn sleeve seemed almost black against her skin.
Qaritas looked at it.
Then at her.
She had noticed.
Of course she had.
She pulled the sleeve down.
Neither spoke.
Outside—
something called between the trees.
Long.
Low.
Not a roar.
More like wood bending under enormous pressure.
Another sound answered farther away.
Qaritas's eyes shifted toward the opening.
Xheavend did the same.
The corpse-ship's heart beat.
THUM.
Pause.
THUM.
Qaritas looked down.
The keychain.
For several seconds he simply stared at it.
The Chronolock rested against him as innocently as an object capable of violating time had absolutely no right to.
Then Qaritas slowly lifted it.
Xheavend noticed.
"Oh no."
He looked at her.
"What?"
"That's your face."
"My face?"
"The one you make before Goro hits you."
Qaritas ignored that.
He held the Chronolock between two fingers.
They had a damaged corpse-ship.
They needed metal.
Crystal.
Biological material.
Water.
Energy.
Some mysterious replacement for a gravity system apparently constructed by people who thought instructions were beneath them.
And yet—
Qaritas was carrying something capable of traveling through time.
He narrowed his eyes.
Time.
Not necessarily only time.
The Book appeared before him.
Pages opening by themselves.
Qaritas stared at the Chronolock.
Then asked:
"Can you fly?"
The Book answered instantly.
NO.
Qaritas's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting."
Another line appeared.
DO NOT.
"I didn't do anything."
DO NOT TRY IT.
Xheavend looked between him and the Book.
"What are you doing?"
"Science."
NO.
Qaritas smiled.
Xheavend's face fell.
"Oh, that's worse."
"It didn't say it couldn't."
The Book went still.
For perhaps half a second.
Then words carved themselves violently across the page.
IT IS NOT YET.
Qaritas stopped smiling.
Xheavend stopped smiling too.
Silence.
Even the damaged corpse-ship seemed momentarily less offensive.
Qaritas looked from the sentence—
to the Chronolock.
Then back again.
"It is not yet."
The Book did not answer.
His mind moved quickly.
The Chronolock had already proven it could manipulate time.
Not merely observe.
Not simply slow or accelerate.
It could cross.
Anchor.
Redirect.
Open routes that should not exist.
It carried internal space larger than its external dimensions should permit.
It behaved like a machine.
A place.
A key.
And sometimes—
something almost alive.
Qaritas looked down at it.
"You can become a ship."
The Book snapped open harder.
NOT YET.
His eyes widened slightly.
Xheavend pointed at the page.
"That is not a denial."
"I know."
"Don't sound happy."
"I'm not."
"You are absolutely happy."
Qaritas studied the keychain.
Could it travel through space?
Dimensions?
Universes?
Was the Chronolock incomplete?
Dormant?
Or was he incomplete?
He turned it once between his fingers.
What happened if he tried?
The Book answered the thought before he acted.
DO NOT ACTIVATE IT.
Qaritas raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't going to."
Q.
"That is unnecessarily accusatory."
THIS IS WHY GORO HIT YOU.
Xheavend immediately nodded.
"I agree with the Book."
Qaritas looked betrayed.
"You don't even know what I was planning."
"I've known you ten years."
"Which should make you more trusting."
"It did the opposite."
The Book added:
CORRECT.
Qaritas stared at it.
"You've become remarkably judgmental."
YOU REQUIRE JUDGMENT.
Xheavend covered her mouth.
Qaritas pointed at her.
"Don't."
That made it worse.
She laughed.
A small sound.
Tired.
But real.
For one moment, the pressure in Qaritas's chest eased.
Then he looked at the Chronolock again.
A ship.
Eventually.
Which meant something changed.
Either the device—
or him—
or both.
He could try forcing it.
He knew that.
The temptation existed immediately.
Push Void through it.
Wake whatever mechanism had not yet become what it was supposed to become.
See whether space folded.
See whether the Chronolock answered.
The Book practically slammed shut.
Then reopened.
NO.
Qaritas sighed.
"Fine."
PUT IT AWAY.
"You're not Goro."
PUT. IT. AWAY.
Xheavend held out one hand.
"I can carry it."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because then you'll agree with the Book."
"I already agree with the Book."
"Exactly."
He returned the Chronolock to his belt.
The Book remained open another few seconds.
As though making sure.
Then disappeared.
Qaritas looked toward the broken ship.
"Apparently we still need that."
Xheavend nodded toward the forest.
"So we find supplies."
"Yes."
"And don't touch anything pretty."
"Strongly recommended."
"And if the mist starts doing something weird?"
Qaritas stared at her.
"The mist has been doing something weird since we landed."
"Good point."
They left the corpse-ship.
The forest had changed.
Qaritas noticed within minutes.
Not dramatically.
No monster dropped from the canopy.
No roots wrapped around their ankles.
No mountain opened its mouth.
The problem was quieter than that.
The forest—
was quieter.
Not silent.
Wind still moved high above them.
The ribbon-crowns of the Kaereth rubbed together hundreds of metres overhead with a distant sound like cloth dragged across stone.
Somewhere far away, something clicked.
A Kavari called once.
Then stopped.
The silver mist moved through the trunks.
But the little noises from earlier—
the scattered animals—
the flashes—
the movement—
were gone.
Qaritas slowed.
Xheavend was several steps ahead.
She stopped too.
Didn't turn immediately.
"Q."
Her voice was quiet.
He looked around.
"What?"
"There are eyes around us."
Qaritas's hand moved toward his weapon.
He scanned the nearest trunks.
Nothing.
Mist.
Shaal.
Roots.
Black bark.
Glowing fungi.
No bodies.
No faces.
No obvious movement.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
That concerned him more than an answer would have.
Xheavend slowly turned.
Her expression was wrong.
Not panicked.
Not yet.
But her attention was fragmented.
Every sound pulled her eyes.
Every shadow.
Every opening between roots.
Her fingers touched each other.
Thumb.
Index.
Middle.
Ring.
Little.
Again.
Qaritas recognized it immediately.
Four.
The same grounding Yzer had used against her.
The same grounding her father had taught her.
Qaritas said nothing.
That mattered.
He had learned.
Once, he would have told her to calm down.
Once, he might have said there was nothing there.
Now?
If Xheavend said something was watching—
Qaritas assumed she had a reason.
Whether the reason existed outside her or inside her didn't make the fear less real.
He simply moved closer.
Not touching.
Just close enough that she would know where he was.
Xheavend glanced at him.
"I can feel them."
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"That's fine."
"It's not."
"No."
He scanned the fog again.
"But you don't need to know yet."
Her jaw tightened.
Everything outside the Labyrinth was harder for her than she admitted.
Goro's home had been dangerous.
Insane.
Filled with creatures whose preferred teaching method involved removing limbs.
But it had been known.
Routes.
Rooms.
Rules.
Goro.
The Book.
Qaritas.
Even danger could become familiar if you survived beside it long enough.
This world was not familiar.
Nothing here had a name yet.
Nothing had rules they understood.
The grass reported movement.
Trees communicated underground.
Plants walked.
Things in the sky ate gravity.
And they had barely made it beyond the wreck.
And somewhere across realities—
Yzer's road to Xheavend was opening again.
Qaritas watched her rub her fingers together.
She had left anyway.
That mattered too.
He had seen pieces of what she might become.
Not enough to understand everything.
But enough.
There was a woman ahead of this Xheavend.
Someone older.
Sharper.
Someone who had survived enough to stand in places this version of her could barely imagine.
That future could not exist if she remained inside Goro's Labyrinth forever.
Goro knew that.
Which was why he'd let her leave.
Come home.
Not stay.
Not hide.
Come home.
There was a difference.
Qaritas's gaze hardened.
And then, without permission—
he remembered Goro's face.
Not the goodbye.
Earlier.
When they'd spoken about Xheavend.
About Yzer.
About the future.
Goro had hesitated.
Barely.
Anyone else might have missed it.
Qaritas hadn't.
Ten years under that monster had taught him the difference between Goro thinking—
and Goro choosing not to say something.
That hesitation bothered him now.
More than the thing that had eaten gravity from the sky.
More than the unknown forest.
Because Goro rarely feared anything.
He respected danger.
He measured it.
He prepared for it.
But fear?
Actual reluctance?
Very little earned that.
Qaritas looked toward Xheavend.
What could Yzer still do to her that was worse than what he'd already done?
Ten years ago, Yzer had taken a child.
Renamed captivity as protection.
Fear as love.
Possession as safety.
He had twisted language until even escape had left pieces of the cage behind.
What was left?
What could make Goro hesitate?
Qaritas didn't know.
And he hated not knowing.
Silver mist moved between the trees.
Then—
it didn't.
Qaritas froze.
A section of fog approximately thirty metres ahead curved.
Not because of wind.
Around something.
His eyes narrowed.
The mist split around an empty shape.
Tall.
Humanoid.
Except the outline was wrong.
Too thin in one place.
Too broad in another.
Something passed between two Kaereth trunks without ever becoming visible.
Qaritas's hand closed around his weapon.
"Did you see that?"
Xheavend followed his stare.
"See what?"
"Something moved."
She looked.
Nothing.
Fog filled the space again.
Xheavend glanced at him.
"Q."
"I know."
"What moved?"
"I don't know."
"Animal?"
"No idea."
"Person?"
"No idea."
"Helpful."
"I specialize."
They waited.
Nothing.
Then, farther left—
the mist bent again.
A long absence moved through it.
Qaritas saw the fog press inward around what should have been shoulders.
Then—
the outline vanished.
No footsteps.
No grass movement he could distinguish.
No breathing.
Nothing.
Qaritas slowly raised his weapon.
Xheavend watched him.
"You actually saw something?"
"Yes."
"How reassuring."
"I thought so."
The Shaal several metres away flickered.
One pale line.
Then another.
Movement.
But the grass flattened under—
nothing.
Qaritas's expression changed.
He looked toward the mist.
Then the grass.
Then the empty trees.
The world was telling him something.
He just didn't know what.
The mistake wasn't that there was no warning.
There was.
Fog.
Grass.
Silence.
Movement.
The problem was that Hstrarkit spoke a language Qaritas hadn't learned.
And right now—
he was illiterate.
"Keep moving," he said.
Xheavend nodded.
They did.
Neither noticed the mist bend behind them.
They hadn't gone far when Xheavend stopped again.
This time—
Qaritas knew immediately why.
Her hand had gone beneath her cloak.
"No."
She froze.
Qaritas saw the shape in her hand before she fully removed it.
Dark vial.
Black liquid.
Goro's Elixir.
The last of it.
Xheavend looked at him.
Qaritas's first instinct was immediate.
Strong.
Automatic.
Take it.
Stop her.
Don't let her poison herself again.
He stepped forward.
Then stopped.
My body.
Her voice from before.
My fear.
My choice.
Qaritas's jaw tightened.
Xheavend watched him realize it.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Then he asked:
"How much is left?"
"Enough."
"That's not a measurement."
"It is today."
"Xheavend."
She looked at the vial.
"I'm only taking half."
Qaritas's eyes narrowed.
"You said that like it makes me feel better."
"It wasn't meant to."
"The last dose almost stopped your heart."
"End restarted it."
"That sentence is not comforting."
"I know."
She uncorked the vial.
Qaritas did not stop her.
Every part of him wanted to.
But wanting to protect someone did not automatically make every choice his.
That was the lesson.
The harder part was living it.
Xheavend lifted the vial.
Qaritas said quietly:
"Your choice."
Her eyes flicked toward him.
He hated the relief he saw there.
Because it meant she'd expected a fight.
Perhaps deservedly.
She drank.
Half.
Exactly as promised.
Her face twisted immediately.
The Elixir hit fast.
Black veins spidered from beneath her jaw.
Her entire body seized.
One hand closed around her stomach.
The vial nearly fell.
Qaritas moved—
stopped himself again—
then changed the question.
"Do you want me closer?"
Xheavend shook her head.
He remained where he was.
Her knees bent.
She caught herself against a Kaereth root.
Breathing through clenched teeth.
Black traveled beneath her skin.
Neck.
Shoulder.
Arms.
The poison entered her blood.
For eight years—
that had been the point.
Make the blood unusable.
Unreadable.
Turn every road Yzer could follow into static.
Mud.
Noise.
Xheavend breathed.
Four in.
Hold.
Four out.
Again.
Then blood appeared beneath one eye.
Qaritas tensed.
A tear.
Red.
Then another beneath the other.
Xheavend touched her cheek.
Looked at the blood.
And went completely still.
Qaritas's stomach tightened.
"What?"
She stared ahead.
Not at the forest.
Through it.
"I can already feel him."
Every muscle in Qaritas's body changed.
"How much?"
Xheavend didn't answer immediately.
Her breathing slowed.
Her expression emptied.
Then:
"It's started, Q."
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
"What has?"
"The road."
Qaritas stared.
The dark veins in her neck continued spreading.
That should have made Yzer quieter.
Not louder.
"Drink the rest."
Xheavend looked at him.
He caught himself.
Closed his eyes briefly.
Then corrected:
"Do you want the rest?"
She looked at the vial.
Her fingers shook.
"I don't know."
That frightened him.
Xheavend usually knew.
Even when the answer was terrible.
Even when it involved fighting six hundred soldiers or drinking poison.
She chose.
Now—
uncertainty.
Then her body jerked.
Hard.
Xheavend gagged.
Qaritas moved instantly.
"X—"
She doubled over.
A wet choking sound tore out of her.
Her hand went to her throat.
She fell to one knee.
Qaritas reached—
stopped inches from her shoulder.
"Can I—"
She gagged again.
Something black appeared between her lips.
Qaritas froze.
Not vomit.
Not blood.
The Elixir.
It crawled upward.
Against gravity.
A thick black strand pulled itself from Xheavend's mouth.
Her eyes widened.
More followed.
Not expelled by her body.
Dragged.
Pulled.
Every muscle in her throat convulsed as the poison was forcibly extracted.
Xheavend made a broken sound.
Qaritas drew his weapon.
Completely useless.
There was nothing to strike.
"Yzer."
The name came out flat.
The black liquid continued rising.
A twisting stream hanging between Xheavend and empty air.
More poison left her blood.
Qaritas could feel it.
Not through magic.
Through the simple fact that the veins beneath her skin were fading.
One by one.
The protection disappearing.
The last black strand ripped free.
Xheavend collapsed forward, coughing.
The Elixir hovered.
For one terrible second—
perfectly still.
Then—
WHIP.
It shot sideways.
Qaritas barely followed it.
The black liquid struck a nearby Kaereth trunk.
SPLASH.
Bark hissed.
Smoke rose.
The matte-black surface softened and began to dissolve.
Qaritas stared.
That poison had been inside her.
For eight years, versions of it had been inside her.
The thought made his stomach turn.
Xheavend dropped both hands against the ground.
Then clutched her skull.
"You fucking bastard."
Qaritas's attention snapped back.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"You fucking bastard."
Again.
Louder.
"You fucking bastard."
He crouched several feet away.
Enough distance.
Visible hands.
No touch.
"What is he saying?"
Xheavend didn't answer.
Her breaths became shallow.
The poison continued melting bark behind them.
"Xheavend."
Her head lifted.
Eyes red.
Blood wet beneath them.
She looked toward what remained of Goro's protection.
"It was that easy."
Qaritas went cold.
"What was?"
Her voice cracked.
"Once he could feel me enough."
She swallowed.
"He just—"
Her fingers closed around nothing.
"Pulled it out."
Silence.
Qaritas understood.
Goro's Elixir had worked because the blood-road had been drowned.
But the Elixir hadn't erased the road.
Nothing had.
Yzer had said it himself.
Mud dries.
The poison had been buying time.
The moment enough of Xheavend's blood became readable—
Yzer no longer needed to wait for the Elixir to fade.
He could simply remove it.
Qaritas looked at the dissolving tree.
Eight years.
Eight years of vomiting.
Pain.
Numbness.
Shaking.
Poison.
Eight years to keep Yzer out.
And now—
one pull.
Gone.
Xheavend laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Eight years."
Qaritas said nothing.
"Eight fucking years."
Her shoulders shook.
"I drank that shit for eight years."
"I know."
"I died from it twice."
Qaritas remembered.
He wished he didn't.
"Three times," she corrected suddenly.
His eyes flicked to her.
She stared at the ground.
"End brought me back before you saw the third."
Qaritas's jaw tightened.
"Of course."
"And he just—"
She looked toward the poison.
"Pulled it out."
Qaritas wanted to say something useful.
There wasn't anything.
No cleverness.
No reassurance.
No threat he could make that mattered yet.
So he gave her the only honest thing.
"I'm here."
Xheavend's face tightened.
Her fingers touched.
Thumb.
Index.
Middle.
Ring.
Little.
Again.
Then she stopped.
"There's more."
Qaritas closed his eyes.
"Of course there is."
When he opened them—
she was looking directly at him.
"Thirty days."
He stared.
"What happens in thirty days?"
Her throat moved.
"He sends someone."
Pause.
"To fetch me."
Something ancient and ugly moved through Qaritas.
Not Eon.
Him.
His grip tightened around the weapon.
"Who?"
"He didn't say."
"How many?"
"He didn't say."
"From where?"
"He didn't say."
Qaritas's expression sharpened.
Thirty days.
That sounded useful until one remembered that time across universes was an exceptionally rude concept.
Their days?
Yzer's?
Yeitshoja's?
This planet's?
The Labyrinth's?
Had thirty days here already passed somewhere else?
Could they?
Qaritas looked at Xheavend.
"Can he hear me?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"Yzer."
Her face changed.
A warning.
"Q."
"Can he hear me?"
"I don't know."
"Good enough."
"That isn't good enough."
Qaritas straightened.
Then did something Xheavend recognized immediately.
His posture changed.
Not dramatically.
Shoulders relaxed.
Expression emptied.
Voice lowered.
Not louder.
Not angrier.
Worse.
Cold.
Precise.
The way Eon used to speak when he wanted someone to realize they had already made a mistake.
Xheavend stared.
"Oh no."
Qaritas addressed empty air.
"Thirty days according to which temporal standard?"
Silence.
Xheavend's eyes widened.
Qaritas waited.
Then her mouth twitched.
Not amusement.
Confusion.
"What?"
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
Qaritas tilted his head.
Then Xheavend's expression changed again.
"He's laughing."
Qaritas smiled faintly.
"Good."
"No, Q."
Her eyes unfocused.
"He's really laughing."
"At what?"
"At you."
"Less good."
Xheavend listened.
Qaritas couldn't hear anything.
That was perhaps the worst part.
Yzer was somewhere else.
Another universe.
Another world.
Another room.
And yet Xheavend stood directly beside Qaritas, listening as if the man were whispering against her ear.
Her face tightened.
Then she repeated:
"In the current world of Hstrarkit..."
Qaritas's attention sharpened.
So that was the planet's name.
Hstrarkit.
Xheavend continued.
"...approximately one year."
Qaritas paused.
A year.
Better.
Not good.
But better than thirty local days.
His shoulders eased perhaps half an inch.
Xheavend's expression immediately worsened.
"He says he could be lying."
Qaritas's shoulders returned to where they had been.
"Of course he does."
Xheavend went still again.
"What?"
She didn't answer.
"What did he say?"
Her eyes remained fixed on nothing.
Then she repeated softly:
"I will have you again."
Qaritas stopped breathing.
Xheavend swallowed.
"I've made you a better cage."
His face emptied completely.
Another pause.
Her voice became quieter.
"I have so many plans for you."
Qaritas didn't move.
The silver mist drifted around them.
Somewhere far above, something cried through the canopy.
Xheavend's pupils tightened.
Then:
"Our future is going to be beautiful."