The dog sized fuzzy boy launched at Felix, its thick needle-like hairs reaching for the potency orb in his hand.

Felix yelped and leapt up. The relic webs fused with his muscles released all of their stored strength in one go. Ice cracked inside Felix’s bones. The fuzzy boy’s quills brushed the soles of his boots as Felix flew three meters high, grabbed the rope, and yelled, “Pullmeuppullmeup!”

“Told you it was—”

“PULLPULPULLPULL!”

Erik pulled. Felix climbed in a panicked frenzy, clutching the orb and wounded denizen. Erik grabbed his shoulder to haul Felix out and tossed him onto grass. The fuzzy boy emerged from the chasm, hot on his tail. Its quill covered body shivered like a bloodthirsty pincushion.

A relic of crimson chitin scales covered Erik’s limbs. With an armored foot, he kicked the fuzzy boy over the edge. It bounced off the walls, plummeting back into the darkness of the Abyss.

“What in the Byss was that?” Erik gaped, releasing his relic manifestation.

As Felix released his, he felt sharp stabs of icy pain where his crystalline skeleton had cracked. The limbs were busted from hips down, again. But Felix’s brain didn’t pause to think of something as boring as repairing his relic. He raised the potency orb. Sunlight danced across its golden grooves in shifting colors of twilight, further enhancing its beauty.

“The this us gold big fuzzy boy make,” Felix blurted. A cocktail of panic adrenaline and excitement had his brain stuttering, and tongue stumbling.

Erik’s eyes bulged. He replied in the same nonsense language, “The wha… that’s a… it’s a that thing? No way.”

“Yuh-uh.” Felix nodded.

Erik dragged a hand across his bewildered expression. “A whole orb. Deepest Byss, that’s worth around... just about everything.”

“Yup. Just about.”

The two sat on the grass, and for several moments, simply stared at the orb. It wasn’t merely worth a life changing amount of money. A whole orb was enough to set up generational wealth. There wasn’t a single kid in Scandies who hadn’t heard stories of famous delving guilds being founded on them, stories of their golden sparks igniting new legends, as well as cautionary tales of the darkness reflected in that golden gleam.

“There was a letter,” Felix said.

Erik’s gaze stayed fixed on the orb. “Okay.”

“Said something about someone needing a favor in the Abyss, in exchange for this.”

“I say we split it. Fifty fifty. Sounds fair?”

“The letter—”

“Forget the letter. Whoever sent it is probably already dead. And even if they aren’t, why should we honor some crummy letter? If they’re dumb enough to send potency orbs through Abyss, they don’t really deserve them.” Erik laughed joyfully, throwing his arms wide. “Felix, this is our ticket to glory! I know a guy who’ll sell us legit iron torches for a fraction of this. Even you could finally afford a proper relic.

“It’s just like we always talked about. We’ll have all the fame, money, and girls we could dream of, and more! Erik and Felix, conquerors of all the seven Abysses and their branches. Our dreams have finally come true.”

He threw an arm around Felix’s shoulder and gestured to the Abyssal horizon, where tumbling pastel colored clouds shrouded caverns, mountains hung upside down from the clouds, and impossibly large canyons opened into otherworldly vistas. A night sky twinkled in the depths of a canyon rising horizontally. A ridge of spiraling mountains encircled the Sun. Caverns opened into every-which direction—with every-which direction used as the technical delving term to describe something existing at least once in whatever direction you happened to look at.

Highlights of Felix’s private fantasies of himself wielding powerful relics played out all at once. He saw himself battling monstrous denizens, exploring undiscovered abysses, and being swarmed by admirers when he returned to share the stories of his adventures.

Erik huddled closer, turning to gaze at the orb. “Crazy huh? And it’s all ours now.”

The tiny white denizen shivered beside Felix’s foot. The scribbled delving foil rustled in his hand. Felix’s grin of wonder dwindled.

“I don’t know about this. The note—”

“What was on that scrap again?” Erik asked, and Felix handed him the note. Erik scanned it, and returned it with a laugh. “Ridiculous. Why would our Abyssal Lord steal her own country? Makes no sense. Whoever wrote this is bonkers.”

“It could be delvers’ code for something,” Felix suggested. The longer he paused to think about the note, the denizen, and the orb, the worse his gut feeling grew. “Something big. Nobody throws this kind of money around for shits and giggles.”

“You obviously don’t know rich people. This is exactly what they do.”

“Maybe so. Say, this is gonna sound crazy, but should we maybe put it back where we found it?”

Erik nodded. “And get it back during the night so Mrs. Gunhild won’t see us? Don’t worry, I have a way of smuggling stuff past the old hag. Done it before. She won’t check us, so long as you keep it out of sight.”

“No. I mean put it back and leave it there.”

Erik stared at him, brows furrowing in scrutiny. “You’re serious?”

Felix nodded.

“Felix what in the Byss? Did you hit your head?”

Felix shrugged, folding the note neatly. “It belongs to the denizen, or whoever the letter was addressed to. That’s gotta be lead torch, no maybe even night torch level business. I’d rather not make any powerful enemies before my first real delve.”

“Are you hearing yourself right?” Erik stood, looking insulted, a pinch away from outrage. “Boy-girl-whoever. Seems to me we fall in that category, so it’s ours. It’s finders keepers in the Abyss. If you don’t have the balls to take it, then give it to me.” Erik held out his hand, fingers gesturing at the orb.

Felix moved the orb to the side. “Finders keepers only applies on unowned land. Technically, this belongs to Mrs. Gunhild. Relic theft is a serious crime. If they find out we stole a potency orb… We could be sent to Iron Garden for that.”

“Mrs. Gunhild?” Erik scoffed incredulously. “She doesn’t have to know. We found it. It’s ours. C’mon, don't be a coward.”

Felix was tempted. Who wouldn’t be?

But he’d grown up on stories of bastions of morality, of men who face the Abyss and themselves at their darkest. Men who do the right thing, heroes both fictional and true. Felix had always known he’d make the right choice, when the time came, like dad always had. Felix had always known he’d make his folks proud.

Thus, when he and Erik rode a rattling rope elevator up and out of Mr.s Gunhild’s ranch, with the potency orb hidden under Felix’s shirt, an odd cloud of vertigo hung over his head. It felt as if he wasn’t the one on the rider’s seat. Alongside the queasiness, Felix was accompanied by a good old palm-sweating swindler’s panic, and an incessantly nagging ‘what-if’ brain gremlin.

“Dude, you look pale,” said Erik.

Felix sucked air through his teeth. “Yyep.”

“Relaaax. Trust me. This’ll go smooooth as sand. I’ve done this a thousand times.” Erik rubbed Felix’s shoulder.

In Felix’s experience, sand wasn’t always smooth, but he showed his appreciation with a not at all strained smile. “Yeah, just smile, walk out, and end the day like normal. Nothing suspect about us. We found a strange denizen, and figured we’d treat it. Nothing sus at all.”

“That’s right. Nothing to sus about a pair of good samaritans. And don’t worry. I’ll have your back.”

The small denizen was curled up in Felix’s arms. As it snoozed, fluffy ear-like feelers atop its head rose up in gentle waves. Nobody in their right mind could think bad of people who helped such a darn precious widdle preciousness.

Believing that Mrs. Gunhild possessed compassion towards cute denizens was Felix’s first mistake.

The lift stopped at a small pier overshadowed by a larger one. The scent of greasy potatoes and sausage hung in the air. There, between criss-crossing catwalks and piers was a small hut, where Mrs. Gunhild sat behind a wooden office desk, eating takeaway from a paper box.

“You shouldn’t be up yet. It’s ten minutes till eight p.m. Plenty of daylight left.” Mrs. Gunhild adjusted her oval spectacles to stab the boys with a glare as sharp as her voice.

Her wardrobe of gray pastels screamed of a desperate woman in the early years of her twilight. She was portly, single, and so bitter she probably sweated pure lemon extract. What’s worse, she managed her little ranch with the strictness of a guildhead preparing for a twenty yonder delve. One month working under her, and you could immediately sympathize with the revolutionaries of renaissance for wanting to round up crooked land owners.

That’s not to say Felix used his dislike of her to justify the theft, but… Okay. Yeah. He kinda did lean on it a teensy bit as a justification.

He and Erik met the woman with friendly smiles.

“Filled my quota early,” said Felix, casually twirling his hair.

“Is that so? Is filling your quota a sufficient excuse to shrink from duty these days? You know, not everyone gives their employees an opportunity to work overtime. Pick more. Earn more. I give you a rare chance. It is an investment in yourself, not that you would understand anything about investments or money.”

“I am so thankful for the opportunity, Mrs. Gunhild,” Felix said, gritting his teeth as he smiled.

“You best be. What is that... thing you have there?” Mrs. Gunhild gestured at him with her fork, pointing at his pocket before landing on the denizen.

Felix’s heart skipped a beat. “A denizen. We found it wounded near a breached wall.”

Mrs. Gunhild’s brows furrowed. “Don’t you peep a word of my walls being breached to the liftmasters. I best not hear rumours about this, or I’ll come knocking for answers.”

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Gunhild,” Erik cut in. His hand trembled as it hovered on Felix’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You see that you do.” Mrs. Gunhild huffed. “Come on then. I’m a busy woman.”

Busy stuffing herself and pretending to read lifestyle guides, whilst hiding a romance novel behind it. Truly an inspirational business woman. If she hadn’t had a working snark detector, Felix would’ve said as much.

Instead, Felix hoisted his chip basket on a side-table, where daily hauls could be weighed on a scale. His catch measured at four hundred twenty grams.

“That’s a nice book there,” said Erik, nodding at ‘Winners Win at Winning’. “I mean, nice, I mean impressive to see people educating themselves is what I’m saying.”

“Is everything alright Erik?” Mrs. Gunhild’s attention turned to the taller boy. Her eyes narrowed. “You are sweating.”

“Ah. Yeah. That’s um... I worked hard, haha…” Erik scratched his nose.

Experienced smuggler my butt. Felix cursed himself for ever thinking Erik had a plan. As the idiot’s nervousness threatened to infect him, Felix focused on breathing. Stay calm. Mark the weight, bag the chips, take my share, and leave.

“Here you go Mrs. Gunhild.” Felix handed her a receipt along with a paper bag containing ninety percent of the day’s haul. His own share Felix slipped into dad’s old delving satchel.

Mrs. Gunhild accepted the receipt, adjusted her spectacles, and squinted. Her gaze darted to Felix, the note, and back to Felix. “Such poor performance. I sincerely hope you don’t hope to become a devler with that attitude.”

“Well. One can dream.” Felix’s eyelid twitched. He managed an awkward chuckle, and left towards the town with Erik on his heels. “Bye, Mrs. Gunhild.”

Each step they distanced from her spread a sense of exhilaration bordering on lightheadedness through Felix. They had a whole potency orb to split between the two of them. Gone were the worries of next year’s interviews. With this much cash to burn, the two of them were set for a life of adventure.

“What is that bulge under your shirt?” Mrs. Gunhild called out.

Felix’s heart began striking as if it wanted to escape his chest. He stumbled on his own feet, desperately adjusting his shirt.

“N-nothing! Some fat. Can’t resist potato and sausage, ha-ha-ha...”

“Nothing?” Mrs. Gunhild lifted her spectacles. The whites, blues, and blacks of her eyes melted into a storming whirlpool of purples, which arranged into layered triangles. Graying blonde hair of the aging woman stood rigid.

“By the Lords below.” Her hushed voice seethed with the contempt of a dozen curses. “Is that a potency fragment?”