Indel opened his eyes to darkness. He was traveling. There wasn’t much he could understand or perceive, but he was traveling—fast. A rumble in the distance raced toward him, passed him by, then raced back again. Whatever it was, it sounded lovely.

He was moving. His body jostled as he floated on his back. The motion felt good. Such excitement that his hearts thumped against his chest one at a time.

And then it stopped.

It stopped and a strange sensation came with it. His skin burned as something ripped through it. First his shoulder, then his back.

For a moment, he didn’t recognize it, but in time he understood, his body was completing a cycle. It wasn’t supposed to do that against his wishes. He could control it; he’d been controlling it now for some time.

With Nala’s affection, he no longer had to wait until the changes came, he could change on his own.

Nala.

That name brought his muffled world into focus. He wanted Nala.

Searching the black before him for any signs of life, he called out, “Na’am!”

Not even an echo came back.

He tried again, and yet again until his tongues strained from the effort. The Earther language was hard in this stage.

Each sharp pain along his skin told him his scales were forming. They came with anguish and even more so because they were shifting again. No sooner had they come, they wilted and fell out.

This time it dawned on him and he took it as a comfort; he was being forced through a cycle yet again.

I fell, he thought. Everything in him stiffened at the realization. I fell.

A great fall with no exoskeleton.

With the newfound knowledge he began to hum; he’d have to complete the cycle in hopes his body would repair, and he’d have to help.

Voices erupted and spilled into his world once one cycle was complete but he still couldn’t see. He wanted to resist the urging for him to complete yet another cycle, he didn’t have many left.

He allowed the completion however, letting out a shriek as the black receded, leaving his world a blur.

Another shift through the cycles would be risky. It might overstimulate his body, trapping him in a random stage he’d have no choice but to live out.

As he still could only feel the fingers on one hand, he decided to allow it.

The process was nothing short of agony. Each scale came hot, burning his flesh as they ripped through him.

That time his vision wasn’t blocked, though it diminished. He tried to reach up for the faceplate but as his left arm was restrained, he used his right.

Squeezing the scale covering his nose and chin was to no avail; his armor was new and hadn’t dried yet. It would have to stay.

A thump sounded against his helmet and he smiled at Sessel’s weary face.

Idrus tried to sit up but Sessel shook her head. She didn’t otherwise address him, turning instead to whisper something to the elderly doctor with his gamoli leaf.

They squabbled and Levelers rushed around.

When the doctor raised his left hand to reveal a severed arm, Idrus tensed. Something was familiar about it.

Reluctant to confirm his suspicions, Idrus tried to move his left arm again. He looked down to it and stiffened at the sight of a small arm, no bigger than that of a child’s where his usual hand should have been.

He tried to scramble away, as if it would fall off if he moved fast enough. That proved to be a short journey due to searing pain shooting through his body with each sudden motion.

“Easy,” Sessel said, rushing to hold his chest, urging him to lie yet again. “It would not attach, the new one is growing but it’s slow. You’ve abused the cycles too often, Daga. So rest here and let it heal. It may take a long time to set. You do not want to injure it so early. It grows so slow.”

A sharp wail cut through Sessel’s word and she looked back at the doctor, the only one by the window who nodded.

“It’s the Summoner,” he said. “And it’s dead.”

“Summoner?” Idrus asked. “Summoner! My Summoner?”

Sessel held him down. “No, Daga. You’re still too weak. There’s nothing you can do for her in this madness. She must take responsibility for what she’s done. Rest here, let your body heal. You forced two cycles. You need time to rest.”

Idrus might have listened if he didn’t hear yet another guttural cry. He didn’t feel quite as weak as he shoved Sessel aside and hobbled to his feet.

“Nala...” the Levelers by the door didn’t move fast enough to intercept him. He simply kicked the door, sending it flying back. It shattered against the wall and he was in motion down the steps as soon as the pieces fell. Fatigue took him, forcing him to pause and rest on the steps, but he was in motion soon enough. Three more long pauses later, he reached the main entrance and shoved the door open.

Blood lined the courtyard. The blasted rain wasn’t as strong, but it drizzled down on the carcass before him.

Idrus approached the dead sloth with a sense of caution. He inched forward until he was close enough to look over it to find another sloth dead.

With each step, his feet fell faster and faster until he broke out into the best run he could manage in his broken body.

His joints cried out, forcing him to walk lest he collapse under his own weight.

A naked blue body crept into focus, and a knife. Only, it wasn’t an Earther blade, it was a claw. As Idrus inched closer, he could recognize that claw as his own.

Before Nala could attack the remaining sloth, Idrus caught the blade with his good hand and spun Nala around.

The naked Summoner broke free, swinging the claw as she did. It was to no avail against the exoskeleton, as soft as his scales were with no sunlight to dry them. A stage-two claw wouldn’t cause much damage to a stage-one’s armor.

Nala’s wide stance may have meant she planned to put up a fight. Idrus remembered himself. With this faceplate, Nala had trouble telling stage-one Levelers apart.

He couldn’t remove the scale.

“Na’am, it’s me,” he said.

The rage in Nala’s eyes ebbed.

Nala’s gray eyes took him in. It was a slow realization at first, but then the Summoner’s expression changed. She rushed Idrus, exoskeleton and all.

Idrus caught her, ignoring the burning in his tender left arm due to Nala’s vice grip.

Seven sloths lay dead around them. The final one had put up a fight. It cowered further in the shed after Nala let it go.

Idrus counted all seven as he patted Nala’s head.

“My gifts...” was all Idrus could manage to say.