Vaskir opened his eyes, Cradow’s face was dangerously close.

‘Did you get it this time?’ he asked. They had just set up camp and were turning in for the night.

‘Not even close,’ Vaskir muttered, pushing Cradow away.

‘Well, you're definitely not fucking up the beginning. Consider me sneaking up on you every time a warning on how exposed an Ascendant is when they’re cultivating,’ Cradow said.

‘Enough chatter!’ Covens said. ‘That damn Duskstalker is still on us, and I’d rather not agitate it any more than I have to.’ Vaskir shivered, and not from the cold.

‘Can’t you go out and kill that thing?’ he asked. ‘Its supposed presence, hanging over our heads, is giving me the yips. I kept thinking I saw its maw and tails out in the darkness last night.’

‘You probably did,’ Cradow said. ‘Whatever you’ve heard about those things is probably exaggerated, but one fact is true. They prefer feeding on fearful prey.’ Covens clicked her tongue, she was once again wrapped up in a blanket, or blankets in this case (somehow she had managed to mooch Pravin’s as well).

‘That’s not true,’ she said. ‘They prefer feeding on deeply emotional prey. It’s why your contracts have a no sex on the job clause for forest and jungle expeditions and missions.’

‘That’s a fun fact,’ Pravin muttered. He was face down on the ground. The day had taken a lot out of him, and focusing on one thing at a time had never been his strong suit.

‘Whatever the case, I want it dead,’ Vaskir said and looked to Cradow, hoping for some backup. Cradow was throwing rocks into the fire and didn’t even catch the look. Instead, the support came from an unexpected place.

‘You know,’ Covens said. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’ Vaskir smiled and nodded. ‘And I know just the guy for the job.’

‘huh?’

It was a simple plan. Covens wanted to waste no time when it came to getting her newfound allies cultivating. So, knowing that Vaskir could only reach true introspection during combat, had devised a little challenge that Vaskir was 100% on board with.

‘Why the fuck did I agree to this?’ Vaskir asked again as Covens tightened his leather chest piece with some string.

‘Because we need both of you to be Ascendants before we reach Port Royal,’ she said, finishing with her touchup.

‘The deadline feels a little arbitrary,’ Vaskir said.

‘And I’m worried about how literally she’s interpreting the word “deadline”,’ Pravin said, worried about what he’ll have to go through. Covens seemed nonplussed.

‘This is pretty normal amongst Ascendant circles,’ she said. ‘We like to challenge ourselves, limit test what we’re capable of.’

‘That’s all fine,’ Vaskir said. It was daybreak, and the shadows of the jungle were slowly being washed away by dawn. Vaskir’s eyes were fixed on the lingering silhouettes of oddly shaped branches, each one, in his mind's eye, the image of a Duskstalker clinging to the side of a tree—hunting. ‘Problem is, I’m no Ascendant, not yet.’

‘And you never will be with that attitude!’ Cradow shouted. He was tasked with clearing up the campfire and hiding their ever being here.

‘Fine, fine,’ Vaskir muttered.

‘Remember,’ Convens reminded him. ‘Just make your way a fair distance away from us then just… mill about, maybe take a piss or something, they tend to attack when their prey is preoccupied.’ Vaskir was nodding. He had that harried look about him of a man walking to the gallows. Covens thought about calling this all off… Nah. She slapped him on the ass, and he stumbled forwards into the treeline. ‘Go get it, big guy!’

Vaskir carefully kept his bearings, keeping the newly risen sun to his left. When he was, hopefully, making his way back, he’d keep it on his right and then follow the smell of slowly dissipating smoke back to the camp. After 5 minutes he considered himself far enough away. The insanity of what he was doing suddenly struck him. He shook his head and drew his longsword, turning in a slow circle. Duskstalkers were infamous for killing off at least 1 sellsword per group mission. It simply wasn’t an odd occurrence to go out on a protection job, have it go smoothly, no bandits, no monsters, nothing, but still lose one man to a Duskstalker attack. The Consortium had been long debating whether or not to add an Ascendant presence to all missions, to minimise casualties. But, the truth was that most Ascendants were too proud to even consider it, making the discussion moot.

‘Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,’ Vaskir said, more alert than he’d ever been in his entire life. He fucking hated these things. The stories were bad enough, but having survived as a sellsword for so long had meant living through some of them. Going back to Chilbrow or Gralos with a single man down was a far darker experience than coming back with a full group. Vaskir quickly turned 180 degrees, hoping to catch anything sneaking up behind him off guard. He had done it mostly as a joke to make himself feel better. The Duskstalker, which had slowly been making its way down the tree as Vaskir paced around underneath, froze.

It had a sleek, rounded head with two truly bulbous red eyes. The eyes had no iris, consisting instead of an even shade of red all the way through. Its neck was long and sleek, and its coat was a mottled brown. As it continued making its way down the tree Vaskir noticed that its neck was extending, keeping its head in place, eyes locked to Vaskir’s, as the body made its way down the tree. It had a small, flower-like nub where a tail would go on a normal creature. It climbed the tree on all fours and after about a meter the extended neck followed, slowly retracting back into a normal proportion. It reached the ground and stopped moving. Man and creature stared at each other. Then, in an act that Vaskir would forever consider the epitome of horror, it reared up and stood on its hind legs like a man. Vaskir took a few nervous steps back. It followed. Unlike cats and dogs, animals with which Vaskir was capable of sympathising and noticing the emotions of, the Duskstalker’s face was an alien aberration of unknown desires. Suddenly, Vaskir noticed movement behind the Duskstalker. Hope that Cradow or Covens had come along to watch over him sprang up in his chest, only to be quickly snuffed out. There were flashes of movement directly behind the Duskstalker. To Vaskir, it looked like small red strips of meat that he had seen hanging in butcher shops, being quickly whipped left and right behind the Duskstalker. Vaskir realized that those were its tails, having finally emerged from the flower-like flesh growth. ‘Good kitty?’ Vaskir muttered. It finally opened its maw. Inside was smoothed over flesh, milky white; no teeth. Vaskir suddenly remembered that Duskstalkers ate you whole. That single fact suddenly frightened Vaskir more than anything else.

It leapt at him, using its powerful hind legs to close the distance in an instant. These things have been known to kill Ascendants… Vaskir didn’t even think about attacking and leapt off to the side, falling into a roll and coming back up nimbly. The Duskstalker’s attack missed. As Vaskir righted himself he noticed a red streak flash towards him. He instinctually cut upwards and managed to sever one of the thin tails at its tip. The Duskstalker had not even turned to look at him after failing its jump. Instead, the tails seemed to have a mind of their own and shot out at him, covering the 2 meters of ground between them easily. Vaskir kept his cool and quickly learned that splitting the tails did nothing, as the Duskstalker seemed to not register any pain, so did not rear back. The only way to end the assault was to cut them off and that’s what Vaskir did. Keeping on the move so as to not allow them to attack simultaneously, and in a masterclass of swordsmanship, not a single blunt tail end touched his flesh. The Duskstalker’s body had not moved an inch after the leap, but once the final tail had been severed it turned to look at him again.

Red eyes, circular, expressionless. Vaskir could learn a thing or two about stoicism from this thing. Its maw opened again, this time Vaskir could see deeper inside and watched as the throat muscles convulsed, opening and closing, opening and closing. It looked like it was trying to regurgitate something and Vaskir would quickly learn how right he was as a thick log of red flesh, tipped with fused and sharped bone, shot out of its mouth and at Vaskir. Vaskir dodged to the side and the sharp tip embedded itself in the tree behind him. Vaskir turned to look at the Duskstalker just as it flexed its throat muscles and pulled itself towards him. It used the anchor point in the tree as leverage to fly towards Vaskir in a show of alien anatomy. Vaskir, having seen nothing like it during his life, stumbled backward in terror and tripped. He used what sense he had left to extend his longsword upwards. He watched in horror as the Duskstalker flew over him, cutting open its belly.

It crashed into the tree. Vaskir got to his feet and faced off against the creature again, this time hoping that he had injured it.

‘This is insane…’ he thought. ‘What am I doing here? Why am I fighting this thing? What kind of insane decisions put me on this path, I—’ he suddenly realised that Covens was right and that he only achieved introspection when his life was in gruesome danger.

The Duskstalker ripped the flesh spear out of the tree and turned back to Vaskir, apparently no worse for wear. Vaskir frowned, that wasn’t right. There wasn’t even any blood. The tails had bled when he had cut them but not the main body? It had felt weird, cutting into it as it sailed over him… it reminded Vaskir of cutting into—a mushroom! It was like cutting into mushroom flesh, specifically hollow mushroom flesh. The creature reared up again and Vaskir managed to get a good look at the wound that he had dealt. One flap of skin was hanging lower than the other and no organs were pressing against the wound, threatening to spill out. The thing was hollow? Vaskir’s brain went into overdrive. It had to be, right? If it wanted to pull itself around by its inner flesh spear. But every living creature needed organs to live, where did this one keep them? Vaskir’s eyes went wide as multiple things clicked into place.

Vaskir had felt that something was off ever since it chose not to look at him after its first leap, and yet, its tail attacks still proved to be perfectly accurate. Then its big intimidation display beforehand? Vaskir, for the first time, focused closely on the creature, especially those big red eyes. They were a part of its flesh, just colored red instead of brown. The eyes were a distraction for something, to keep its prey focused on its front instead of on its… The flowerlike flesh nub on its back writhed with newfound life, more red strips of flesh burst out from inside it, regenerated.

‘That’s the creature!’ Vaskir realised. ‘The rest is just some kind of mushroom growth around it.’ Vaskir grimaced—disgusting, he had never liked mushrooms. He steeled himself, this thing wasn’t half as dangerous as it made itself out to be. As he came to these conclusions a haze lifted from his mind and his hands stopped trembling. As the aura of fear cleared the creature finally showed a reaction, its body undulating from the inside. It turned to retreat, but Vaskir had long since learned never to let an ambush predator escape.

Monver was still smiling, which served to unnerve Antone. Antone understood why the expedition had chosen not to bring any horses, but the endless walking was killing him.

‘Sir,’ Antone said, ‘the men need rest. We’ve been walking through jungle for the better part of a day and night. We’ll never catch up to them if the men start dropping from exhaustion.’ Monver stopped. Yesterday, Antone had found the body of an Ascendant out in the eastern mud fields. His aura had still not dissipated, leaving Antone to believe that he was somewhere in the opening stages of tier 2, or maybe had even recently broken through. The back of his head was split open, and strangely enough, another weak aura lingered as well. Antone wasn’t even sure if he was imagining it or not, he had always been sensitive (he couldn’t spend more than 10 minutes around his father without naturally breaking through his pitiful aura control), but sensing that aura was like smelling your favorite meal on the wind then immediately having it snatched away. Still, finding the body had accounted for the two Ascendants they were warned about. But no manual.

‘They have it,’ Monver said.

‘Sir?’ Antone responded. He had always found that acting as a sounding board for men of power was a quick way of endearing yourself to them.

‘Covens and the little diamond,’ Monver said, eyes distant. Antone had to agree, the timing was too suspicious. There was an argument to be made about pressing onwards to the ruins, but Monver had called an immediate march back to Port Royal. For Antone, the silver lining was that he finally got to leave this god-forsaken continent and all its horrors. Antone had woken up yesterday with a spider the size of his fist on his chest. It was only through years of harsh training and discipline that he managed to keep his scream within the bounds of Ascendant limits. Antone had named a Duskstalker as the cause of the scream and received immediate sympathy from the men. He shivered. ‘Call a stop,’ Monver said. ‘Then come join me.’ Antone executed his orders and then joined Monver in his newly erected tent. ‘They have it,’ Monver repeated.

‘With Covens with them they won’t be stupid enough to bond it,’ Antone reassured.

‘Oh, I’m certain,’ Monver said. ‘My father warned me about this. It's always the new bloods. They keep scrambling upwards, not caring who they bring down along the way.’ He licked his lips. ‘Vaskir Freyfa. Marshall Covens. Pravin Bronzewood. Fucking Cradow. Isn’t it fun?’ he asked Antone.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Isn’t it fun to learn the names of your enemies?’ Monver asked. Antone frowned.

‘Yes, sir. I guess it makes things a lot clearer,’ Antone answered.

‘That greedy bitch was after the prize all along. All that talk of revenge and she gets swept up by the first prize the fates put before her,’ Monver said, shaking his head. ‘Remember, Antone. Never trust a traitor, especially if they’re a woman.’ Antone nodded. Antone noticed Monver was leaning towards the direction they had been travelling and knew that the break would not last long. He was about to excuse himself before Monver spoke up. ‘Inform one of my lieutenants, choose one at random, that they’re now the acting captain of this expedition.’

‘Excuse me?’ Antone said.

‘And tell them to make haste. We’ll meet them at Port Basker with the artifact in… let's say, 2 weeks.’

‘We’ll?’ Antone said.

‘Oh yes,’ Monver intoned. ‘You and I are going on a hunt.’

Vaskir was breathing heavily atop the corpse of the Duskstalker. His sword was embedded into the flower nub. A sharp screech had echoed out from it when the blow landed, scaring the shit out of Vaskir and causing him to fall on his ass. He had stood up, dusted himself off, and was silently thankful that Covens had insisted that he do all this himself. Next, he wasted no time in following the rest of her instructions.

“Battle was a catalyst,” she had said. “But a catalyst is nothing without a spark.’ Vaskir crossed his legs atop the creature and once again began trying to cultivate. He quickly entered the correct mindset, his senses still sharpened from the recent battle. Strangely, the Duskstalker underneath him smelt like nothing. So instead he focused on his sense of smell and hearing, taking in the oddly silent jungle. He breathed in and began to draw his senses inwards. Pain. Pain that, over the course of his life, he had learned to ignore. It was that physical burn of exertion, of pushing your body. But that was only the surface. He delved deeper. His heartbeat suddenly echoed loudly between his ears. “A strong pulse means a strong heart,” his mother would say, grabbing him by the wrist and lightly squeezing. Vaskir had been a sickly child, and his mother had found relief in checking his pulse. The habit had followed her into his adolescence and he had a plethora of memories of her random pulse checks. But, it wasn’t enough, he had to go deeper. He pulled his senses towards the core of his being and found himself standing in a dark room. He released his concentration, and the outside energy he had gathered dispersed into the room, maybe making it a shade brighter. He looked around and saw a figure in the darkness. As it approached, Vaskir could make out that it was missing its right arm. He retreated a few steps but seemed to make no distance on the approaching creature. He turned to run and found himself on the edge of the whirlpool. Tabbathy came to stand beside him.

‘You really like this place, huh?’ he asked. Vaskir sighed, he was sitting on the edge, one leg dangling whilst the other he had brought up to his chest and had wrapped his arms around.

‘It’s easier to think here,’ Vaskir answered. ‘Nobody bothers you.’ He shot a pointed look at Tabbathy. Tabbathy laughed, understanding.

‘I know man,’ he said and sat down beside him. ‘But, honestly, I think you think too much. You do the greatest shit man when you stop thinking and fucking go for it!’ He cut the air with his hand like he was ordering a forward charge.

‘And then I have to pay the price,’ Vaskir said, standing up. ‘And most of the time, it just ain’t worth it.’ He turned and started walking away.

‘You ain’t gonna be anything if you don’t pay the price, Vaskir!’ Tabbathy shouted, looking out over the roiling mass of water. ‘The big difference between you and me is that I’m not scared to pay it!’ Vaskir shook his head, the man was suicidal.

He opened his eyes. He felt as if he had just run a marathon. Sweat drenched his face and his underclothes stuck to his skin like a desperate lover.

‘Congratulations,’ Covens said from behind him. ‘You are, officially, on your way to Ascension.’ Vaskir was too tired to respond. The cultivation had taken more out of him than the fight with the Duskstalker. She moved over and sat beside him, the extra weight caused the Duskstalker underneath them to deflate a little.

‘Felt good, right?’ Covens said.

‘No, it felt fucking awful. Do you get a vision every time you cultivate?’ Vaskir said. Covens frowned at him.

‘You shouldn’t be getting visions, period,’ she said. ‘What are you seeing? You may be a sensitive, I've heard their auras can do some weird shit.’ Vaskir didn’t want to tell her the whole truth, then remembered that she could just feel his aura and sense that he was holding something back. As he thought this, Vaskir realised that he could sense it as well. As the shock ran through him his aura rippled, showing the same emotion. Vaskir felt exposed as if he had been walking down a busy street with no pants on. On that thought, his aura retracted inside him with the same speed as a man covering his junk after a sudden exposure. Covens started clapping. ‘Amazing. Although, I’m not sure whether or not to be a little offended. You’ve been an open book for 3 days and not a single flicker of lust?’ Vaskir cleared his throat and couldn’t look Covens in the eye.

‘Well, considering the multiple near-death experiences…’ he said. Covens frowned.

‘Near-death experiences are what get the juices flowing,’ she said. Vaskir couldn’t disagree more.

‘How could you want to have sex after you’ve been covered in blood, viscera, and god knows what else?’ he asked, slightly taken aback. Covens leaned away from him, then gave him a detailed look up and down.

‘How could you not?’ she said. Vaskir raised his eyebrows in surprise, then shook his head and stood up.

‘I expected a conversation like this from Cradow,’ Vaskir said, turning and making his way back to camp. ‘Not from you.’ Covens just grunted in understanding and hopped off the corpse of the Duskstalker.

‘But seriously, though,’ she said. ‘Visions?’

‘Yeah, or I guess you could call them old memories. Except they feel so real, like I’m reliving them all over again,’ he said.

‘Important moments?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ Vaskir muttered. ‘It happened again when I cultivated for the first time. I saw an old friend, Tabbathy. We were at the Gralos whirlpool. This was right after I had refused a job as a bodyguard… that was the conversation that convinced me to go back and take it.’ Covens hummed in interest.

‘Honestly, as long as they don’t interfere with your cultivation they’re probably harmless,’ she said.

‘Probably?’ Vaskir said, giving her a strained look.

‘Yeah, it’s far too soon for you to be dealing with heart demons. The peak of tier 2 is the earliest I’ve heard of them showing up,’ she said. Vaskir nodded, placated. They made their way back to camp and Pravin immediately pulled him aside. Cradow gave Vaskir a little thumbs up beforehand.

‘Hey, well done,’ Pravin said, wrapping Vaskir up in an unexpected hug. Vaskir hugged back, giving a few friendly pats.

‘Thanks,’ Vaskir said, meaning it. He still didn’t feel truly at ease around the others and finally being in private with Pravin lifted a weight off his shoulders.

‘We need to talk about Covens,’ Pravin said.

‘Dammit,’ Vaskir thought. ‘I know that tone. And just when I was starting to warm up to her.’ Vaskir sighed and felt a headache coming on. ‘Alright,’ he said, ‘hit me. Is she insane? You spot her gutting a rabbit for her own sick pleasure or something?’ Pravin shook his head.

‘No, nothing like that. It’s just, at the reward ceremony, the one where I got bodyslammed into a barrier, Monver said that Covens was the person that tipped them off to the location of the manual. She’s not just some scout from the Consortium.’ The hairs on the back of Vaskir’s neck stood on end.

‘There’s something she’s not telling us,’ Vaskir murmured.

‘There’s something she’s not telling us,’ Pravin agreed. Vaskir could tell that he was missing something, perhaps something obvious. Some lie that had gone over his head, or a piece of information he had discarded in favor of instinct. He swore and looked to where Covens was sitting. Cradow had finished packing up the camp and was busy trying to obscure the sled marks. Vaskir pulled Pravin closer.

‘You know you're like a brother to me,’ Vaskir said and Pravin nodded. ‘Well, just like every other time, if we have to, we stick together, cut our losses, and try to get away with as many queens in our pockets as we can fit. Remember, even without the manual, this has been the largest payday of our lives,’ Vaskir said, touching his forehead to Pravins.

‘Cut and run, brother,’ Pravin muttered, ‘cut and run.’