“What is this place?” I asked.

I floated through an infinite grey void on an island of iridescent glass. The island was a perfectly circular disk perhaps a dozen meters wide. In the distance I could see a hexagonal column crackling with lighting. Atop the pillar sat a man completely hidden within the folds of a billowing black cloak.

“I thought you might not recognize it. Kind of empty, don’t you think?” The man’s laughter was like a peal of thunder, intense and foreboding.

“This is your mind, or at least the part of it you kindly made my home. We bargain for knowledge, what better place to impart it?”

“Name your price, Demon,” I said. “I’m tired of games.”

“Price? Demon?” the voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I think not. Does the angler bargain with the worm? No, he guides his bait upon the hook and with the hand of fate casts out his line beneath the frigid waves.”

“And what prey do you hope to lure?” I asked.

“An enemy, old and new,” the creature said. “At the heart of that which binds you, dead my quarry waits dreaming. His visions unfold, twisted and stolen by the fleas that walk upon his pallid flesh.” His voice took on an acerbic quality dripping with rage.

“No more,” it said. “Three questions asked, thrice answered a boon of words I seek. Three words whispered at my call, three answers now I’ll speak.”

“I’ll play,” I said. “You give me my answers, and in return you want me to say three words? That’s it?” It felt wrong, too easy, and yet I couldn’t imagine how just speaking three words could be dangerous. There wasn’t even anything keeping me from prefacing the words or adding an explanation after.

“An accord, then? Freely given?’

“We have a deal,” I said. The creatures cloak fell back away from his face revealing a skeletal smile upon a bleached skull.

“Then ask and be done.”

“For now, I just need you to guide me through the best way for me to create a class with my current resources. It needs to be a class capable of both magic and melee and should combine my Reactive Adaptability with my ability to manipulate eldritch energy.”

“Best?” it said. “I can lay no guarantees, your mind still lost might be. But to be your guide, that I can do. A catalyst you require, a vessel to carry your intent. Three drops of blood and freedom I petition.”

“What kind of freedom? I’m not setting you loose to kill or infect others. I’m not giving you my blood either.”

I stood up straighter trying to confront the creature. The wind began to pick up, twirling around me, and I could feel a force pressing down upon my shoulders. The creature looked from its perch with empty eyes and a permanent skeletal grin, his cloak pressing tight against him as it rose and fluttered behind.

I let out a gasp as the pressure lessened, not even realizing I had been holding my breath.

“The catalyst requires blood, I can give you naught without. My freedom is a simple matter, I desire to be set upon the world, but we are bound. Let my eyes follow your path and my talons strike your foes. Your allies need not fear my wrath, for I shall hide my nature in friendly garb.”

“Fine,” I said. “You can have your freedom, but I will banish you right back to this void if you so much as give me a hint of harming me or my friends.”

“It shall be as you say,” it said. “I shall heed your call and spare your allies.”

“Then we have a deal.” As I said the final words I pulled my sword from its sheath on my hip and drew the blade across my palm. “Take my blood then and fulfill your part of the bargain.”

“Gladly.”

***

The sun was beginning to come up painting the world in more natural light, drowning out the unnerving blues and purples that had lit the night. I stood outside the ramshackle gates of New Charleston waiting for the others to arrive. Catayla and Pat had arrived before me and Tiller arrived with Rachel Pickman shortly after.

It wasn’t long before a group of three guards walked out from the gate, led by Worthy the Witcher Wannabe. His red mohawk was now combed down over one side of his head, leaving the other side bare. The two guards following him wore a combination of scavenged tactical gear, sport equipment, and leather padding. I recognized one of the guards from the bridge, a blonde Amazonian woman wearing football pads with a club nearly as tall as she was strapped to her back with a looped hemp thong.

“How ya doing, Sam,” I said.

“It’s Worthy, motherfucker. And don’t forget it.” He had the casual arrogance and posture that seemed to say ‘hey, look at me’ as if he believed everyone was here just to worship him. I suspected that some, those like him, were secretly glad for the apocalypse, as it allowed them to get away with bullying and pushing their physical superiority onto others.

Some might not like such attitudes, but I understood that sometimes that is the exact kind of guy you need in a rough situation – if you can keep him pointed in the right direction. Shouldn’t be hard with literal monsters trying to tear us apart.

“Alright, Worthy. What’s the plan? You in charge?”

“Of you, damn straight. Right now, we listen to Boss Lady over there.” Worthy craned his head slightly to the side to indicate where Pat was standing.

Pat walked forward as I spoke with worthy. The crowd naturally formed into a half circle splayed out before her. She was wearing an eggshell-white pantsuit with a thin black tie. Her hair had been done up into a bun with a pair of chopsticks. She had the air of quiet competence.

“That should be everyone, yes?” said Pat. She didn’t even wait for a response before continuing. “Catayla will lead this mission, you are all on loan to her – do you understand?”

A low murmur of assent rose up from all of us before she continued. “Good, your immediate task will be to break the siege at the Ravenel Bridge and secure a path of retreat for the guards currently stationed there. After that, Catayla will lead you on a scouting mission to make contact with whatever remains of her people, the Peacekeepers. Any questions?”

“Are we abandoning the bridge?” Asked Tiller. “If you don’t hold the bridge we have nowhere to retreat to.”

“It has become untenable, Captain made the call. We can’t hold the bridge any longer. You’ll have to break through on your own. If you find the Peacekeepers, our hope is that they will be able to assist you in returning, if not? Get creative.”

“And the people here?” Said Rachel Pickman. “Aren’t those monsters going to come straight here once the bridge is lost?”

“True, but we are much better equipped to deal with a siege here. Vehicles have been outfitted if we need to evacuate. If that happens, you’re on your own.” She gave us each a careful gaze making sure to make eye contact. Her eyes were green, and much more beautiful than I had realized.

“Now, no more arguments. Sun is already up, and you know what you have to do.”

We lined up with Worthy’s group taking the lead while Catayla disappearing to scout ahead. Tiller, Rachel, and I grouped together hanging back slightly from Worthy and his group, letting the meatshields go ahead.

We walked for about fifteen minutes without anyone speaking. The terrain changing effects I had noticed after leaving the dungeon were starting to take hold here as well. We climbed up a road that had once slopped downward. The pavement was splintered and broken with weeds and small trees beginning to grow between the cracks.

As we crested the hill Rachel stopped to catch her breath and pulled out a clear blue water bottle. “Anyone need any of this?”

“Brought our own, thanks,” said Tiller reaching for his own canteen.

“So,” said Rachel. “What’s up with the bird? Some kind of familiar? You a witch, Finn?”

Tiller turned to look at the bird that was perched on my shoulder. It was medium-sized, large enough that it would be hard to grab with one hand. Its feathers were blue-grey with a white band around its neck and a striped tail. Tufts of dark plumage crowned its head. It had round black eyes and a wide, straight beak longer than a hand. The tips of the blue feathers were slightly black, with a singed look to them.

“It’s a belted kingfisher,” said Tiller. “Bigger than most, but the crest and the band around its neck is unmistakable. Notice the white belly, with no chestnut coloring? That and the higher crest means it’s a male.”

Tiller kept on like this for the next minute or two while Rachel and I shared a look. Sighing, I set my hand on Tiller’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Look man, I knew you were a nerd. But birdwatching?”

Tiller looked slightly embarrassed, but quickly straightened himself. “My gram was a birder, took me along sometimes. Besides,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with ornithology it is a rich and respected field.”

“Alright, nerd,” said Rachel. “You never let him answer my question. This your familiar?” She reached out to poke the bird with her index finger.

I caught her hand, holding it in my own. “I wouldn’t touch him. He’s much more dangerous than he looks.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Can I get my hand back now?” She lifted one eyebrow but made no move to pull away.

“Sorry,” I whispered as I dropped her hand. “Just don’t provoke it okay? It’s not really my familiar, but I guess that is a close enough analogy.”

“Well, he’s cute,” said Rachel. “He got a name?”

“A few, but don’t get him started. He’ll go all day.”

Rachel and Tiller gave me a confused look before Worthy called for us to keep moving. It wasn’t long before we reached the top of another hill, and the bridge came into sight.