1

Brett woke up just before dawn as the indigo sky became gradually lighter, yet the first red and yellow hues of the sun hadn’t burst on the horizon. He’d spent most of the previous day in an irritable mood, desperately wanting to check on the team, but knowing that he couldn’t. Emma had watched him like a hawk. They had gone about their tasks dutifully, barely speaking to each other. He’d asked her if he could go for a walk to clear his mind, but she didn’t fall for the ruse.

“You’re staying here,” she’d said, then planted her legs firmly into the soft ground. “And you are keeping your promise to me.”

Brett had groaned but acquiesced. They’d continued puttering around camp, trying to stay out of each other’s ways. Later in the day, his anger had grown, and he had wanted to scream at her. What are you? My mother? But he’d held it back.

Still, he perceived the power shifting. Emma wasn’t being the coddling, deferential wife that he’d become accustomed to. He didn’t want the dynamic to change, but he didn't want to drive her away either. They’d plodded to bed early, which was one reason he was up so early now.

He glanced at her. She appeared to be asleep. She could be tricking you, his mind told him. But if she catches me, I could just say I was going fishing, he answered himself. And that would have been a plausible explanation. They had been eating from his food inventory and his stock was running low.

He slid out from under the bedding, watching Emma’s body closely. She didn’t stir. He quietly pulled on his underwear and equipped his armor, hoping to take off immediately from the site. I wonder how far the fuckers got? They could have completed the entire dungeon by now. He scowled at Emma. If I missed that, it would be your fault.

He stepped out of the A-frame. The wolves growled at him instantly. No. No. You’re going to give me away! he thought. He shot up into the dawn sky and hovered fifty feet above the wolves, who had settled back down. As he waited to see if Emma came walking out of their shelter, he gazed at the pack. They had all growled at him. As pink rays of sunlight poked through the trees, casting a glow on the clearing, he saw that the wolves had fully transformed. Just like Warg, he realized. Their red eyes stared up at him with malice. And their ears had turned dark red.

Just then, Warg emerged from the shadows of the hill and sat in the center of the wolves’ circle. The large wolf craned its neck and looked up at Brett. It bared its teeth, and Brett could almost read the wolf’s mind. You are not welcome back here.

Incensed by the perceived message, Brett glowered at his former wolf pack. “Yeah? We’ll see about that,” he whispered.

He stayed there for another thirty seconds. When he was satisfied that his lover hadn’t been woken, Brett sailed over the trees toward the dungeon.

2

By the time Brett reached the dungeon, the sun was in full bloom. Once again, he descended onto the only boulder that wasn’t submerged under the flooding waters. He peered down through the floors and, before long, found the team. He gasped at the progress they had made, then smiled.

“Today’s the day,” he announced to himself. He was certain they would emerge from whatever hole opened up at the top of the dungeon.

“But what if they never come out?” he asked himself, and the notion filled him with dread. He knew the tower—and, supposedly, the dungeon—had portals that could transfer them back to the landing zone. They could reach the end and unwittingly avoid his reach. “Fuck,” he muttered in a voice that was barely audible over the raucous waves.

They couldn’t just transfer away. Brett had plans. Things that needed to be done. A slate that needed to be wiped clean. He concentrated on the last room of the dungeon, searching for any sign of a portal. He couldn’t see one, but that didn’t mean much. It could materialize after defeating the final boss.

He stared up at the morning sky, then over his left shoulder, praying to the only god he knew. Please… you promised. And Brett planned on making good on his own promise. When his former teammates emerged, he intended to kill all the veterans. A surprise attack, he had mused days before. And, yes, it was against the Wendigo’s wishes, but he didn’t care. He wanted his revenge against Jordan. He’ll be the first one I kill, he thought defiantly.

“They’ll come,” he tried to reassure himself, “They’ll come.” He equipped his wolf-bane sword, examining the long canine fangs that protruded from the rear of the blade. Aside from that upgrade, the former short sword wasn’t much to look at. “But it’s not the size of the hammer, Jordan,” Brett said, “it’s how you use it.”

He activated his telekinesis ability, and the weapon flew over the rushing torrent, making sweeping motions through the air and water. They amused Brett so he continued. And he waited.

3

Emma was having a nightmare, and Brett was in it. Only it wasn’t the Brett that she’d known over the past few days. It was the maniacal psychopath that haunted her dream.

They were in the tower, still clinging to the hope that Cloud Nine was going to allow them back to Earth. They entered the final boss room and gazed upon the blue behemoth they would spend the next five hours battling. As her teammates verbally engaged the monster, Emma ran to the opening that overlooked the large courtyard. Far below them, she saw Brett standing in the middle of the tower’s highest bridge. He was pointing at Janna, who lay suspended in the vacant space, twenty feet from the bridge. She was terrorized and screaming at the orange-eyed madman.

“Brett, what are you doing?” Emma shouted down to him.

His brilliant eyes gleamed up at her. “Just having a little fun with the old nurse,” he said, then flicked his wrist.

Janna plummeted toward the courtyard floor one hundred and fifty feet below.

“Brett! No!” Emma cried down to him, and suddenly she was standing on the bridge with him.

He grinned at her, but his teeth were now fangs. “We’re all having a little fun, my sweet,” he said with delight. His orange eyes shimmered with insane vibrancy. Far below them, Janna slammed into the hard stone floor with a sickening splat. “You said it yourself, my love,” he mused. “Everything can revert back to normal. ‘Save-states,’ you called them. I brought Janna back for a little fun.” He peered over the edge of the bridge. “Although, how they are going to piece that mess together, I don’t know.”

Brett flinched, and Emma saw long claws jut from his fingertips. He poked those bloody claws into her blonde hair.

She sobbed. “You haven’t changed, have you? Loving you wasn’t enough, was it?”

The glitched man smiled sympathetically. “No, my love,” he cooed. Then his face stretched into the one she had feared at the beginning. The soulless face of the mannequin. “Change is constant. Evolution is constant. The metamorphosis has begun. But love? Love is fleeting.” His icy hands pressed against the sides of her head. “But hate … hate is more powerful than love!”

Still gripping her head, he swung his arms suddenly and threw her off the bridge.

Emma plunged toward the large bloodstain Janna had left on the tower’s first floor. She tried to activate her telekinesis ability, but she couldn’t stop her descent.

“You stole it from me,” she said in shocked revelation as wind billowed into her open, screaming mouth, bulging her cheeks. The stone floor raced toward her, and on it, Emma could see shards of bone, stretched intestines, and a single dead eyeball looking up at her. She closed her eyes and—

“Ughhhhh!” she gasped as she sat bolt upright in her bed. Her heavy breathing sounded like a storm in her ears. With her arms propping her up, she glanced to her right. Brett was gone. “No,” she moaned as she laboriously rose to a standing position.

She limped to the A-frame’s opening. The sun was high in the sky. Her body ached because of the stress of the previous day, which had also led to her sleeping so late.

“Brett?” she called but knew there would be no answer.

He had broken his promise to her. Sadness tore at her heart. She had wanted to make this work. But she recognized it was over now. She could no longer trust him.

Emma stretched, trying to relieve her sore muscles, and wondered if the team would ever take her back. She didn’t think so. Too many bridges burned. Too many resentments that would linger. Unexpectedly, she broke into tears, and the stress of the previous two weeks weighed heavily on her. She stooped over as heaving sobs racked her body.

After a few minutes, she shuddered against the cold still lingering in the shadows and pulled on her underwear. She equipped her steel armor, walked to the forest’s edge, and levitated over the trees. Her eyes scanned the horizon as the warm sun burned the chill from her skin. She couldn’t see him, but that didn’t matter. She knew where he was.

Emma leaned into the soft breeze and shot toward the dungeon’s vague location. Brett had told her it was southwest of the tower. As she picked up speed, the unnoticed and transformed wolves followed her trail on land, jumping over large streams of water, then swimming through the river.