“There it is! There's the jungle!”

There was an almost hysterical touch in Luevo's voice as he pointed at the line of green on the near horizon. And Joseph couldn't blame him. The storm had whipped up once more during their travel, delaying their journey once more. Three days of pushing through snow, or carving it away with his soul to make a path, of non-stop blizzard, of snow hiking up to his waist at some points.

Three days of Luevo's whining, of the strange, chittering creature that sometimes rhymed over his complaints, of Nole's ugly grunts and Shetavalk's desperate attempts to keep a jovial air.

And now, it was at an end. The mountain sloped downwards, still caked in snowdrifts, but the white soon melted away.

It was a sudden change. The snow disappeared completely, overtaken by a wall of jungle. A mud-brown river snaked out of nowhere, right at the dividing line between the two climates, as though they were two pieces from different puzzles that had been jammed together.

“That's impossible,” Joseph said. He pointed out towards the jungle, “There's got to be some transition, right?”

“The air here is a tad bit warmer,” Shetavalk said, “But not by much. Such is the nature of the lands of Nesona – they stutter and stop and immediately shift to the next landscape.”

“How far does it go?” Joseph asked.

“Several dozen miles,” the Spioa answered, “Though, I am not exactly sure about the specifics. Koma is the largest landscape on Nesona. It will take us a while to push through this place – a few weeks, perhaps.”

“A few weeks?” Luevo interceded, “Aren't we close to any of the major roads?”

“Have you never been to Koma before?” Shetavalk asked, “There are no roads. It's all jungle, the roots cover over anything that's cleared in a few days.”

“But the road's right here!” Luevo cried out, “I can see it! There's even a road sign that says we're entering into Koma!”

He pointed at the sign that helpfully said 'Koma Ahead,' as though that were not obvious enough.

“And a river begins in Koma, flowing right from the dividing line as though it had always existed. The rules of one land are not the same as another,” Shetavalk said.

“Aren't you the prince?” G-Wiz asked, “Aren't you supposed to know these things?”

“I-” Luevo stammered, “As the crown prince of Ionica, it is my responsibility to, ah, only know things befitting his station.”

“Such as?” Joseph prodded.

“Kingly things,” Luevo said, “Such as how to run a nation.”

“For the love-” Nole interrupted, “Just leave him be. We have to hear enough of his reedy little voice as is.”

“I beg your pardon, my reedy little voice?”

“He's kind of right,” G-Wiz said, “It is pretty reedy.”

The prince was at a loss for words, standing in mute outrage as the party began making their way downhill. After a few moments of silence, he gave out a defeated sigh.

“Ro la la, it is pretty reedy, ro lay lee.”

“Shut up.”

***

The transition was immediate. One moment it was the biting cold of winter that sunk into Joseph's bones, the next it was sticky, humid, altogether too hot. Joseph, layers of cloaks already drenched from pushing through the snowstorm, felt himself begin to overheat. He began peeling off layers of cloaks off of himself.

“Leave them on the ground,” Shetavalk said, “We won't need them going through here, and they'll just weigh you down.”

“My mom always told me not to litter,” Joseph joked.

No one laughed. Not even a chuckle. Nole gave him a vile, bemused smirk. Joseph rolled his eyes and let the joke die, casting it off with his winter gear. The air was all too suffocating here – sweat was already beading down his temples and salting his hair. The loud whoops of apes dominated the treetops, along with the sounds of buzzing insects and the occasional loud croon of a tropical bird. Joseph could see them flapping high above – tomato-colored parrots, birds of paradise with blue and purple crests, toucans with banana beaks chittering to one another, miniature Barbaras with their miniature arguments.

And the going was, predictably, rough. In a different way from the mountains. Back there, they had to constantly push through the snow, literally digging their way to freedom. Here, it was much like the forest around Lake Oval, back on Londoa – roots tangled the ground into a maze, though this time there was plenty of mud to sink into as well. Rivers occasionally crisscrossed the jungle floor, veering this way and that – the one that led into Koma had soon split off in a dozen streams. Most of them were small, though a few were large enough that they had to ford across.

“Dolphins live in these ones,” Shetavalk said. He pointed down towards the still surface of a particularly large bend as they passed over it, using a downed tree trunk as a makeshift bridge, “Pink ones. Mostly blind.”

“Anything dangerous to look out for?” Joseph asked.

“The otters,” the Spioa said, “They hunt dolphins – and anything else they can get their teeth into. Apex predators, they are.”

Joseph saw a small colony of them as they made their way to the opposite bank. He could just make them out swimming in the water, brown heads just barely skimming the surface. A few were lounging on the shore.

And each was the size of a saltwater crocodile.

“I hate this,” Luevo muttered, “I hate all of this. Why do we even have this place? It could have been a nice field, or a pretty forest-”

“Ah, shut yer trap,” Nole said, “If it makes ye feel any better, it won't be around much longer.”

Joseph stopped at that, looking towards the trees. He could just make out one of the birds of paradise, scarlet chest in full bloom as it bobbed up and down in a mating display towards a potential mate.

“What will happen to the creatures here?” he asked.

“They'll die,” Nole grunted, “This place will become like the Deadlands, methinks. The birds'll go to the mountains, where there won't be no food. The otters will starve without rivers to hunt in.”

“Oh,” Joseph said, “That's not a good thought.”

“That's life, lad,” Nole said, “Get used to it.”

***

A problem arose when they approached the River Anar.

Luevo had seen it in his history books from a child, a vast river that stretched across the length of Koma. It was certainly wide – the shore on the other side, while they could swim to it, still seemed far too distant – the trees were blotted into brushes of green, the shoreline of rocks a mosaic of grays and whites. The chocolate brown water was almost too calm, and Luevo wasn't sure he could see the bottom. Worse, just downriver, on the other shore, were the otters. A dozen of them, by Luevo's count. The adults were resting on rocks while a few pups nestled beside them.

All of them were staring at the group. Already a few of them were slipping into the water, ripples ringing out, their movement silent compared to the din of the forest.

“No choice,” Shetavalk said, “We'll need to swim across.”

“We, ah, can't find a bridge?” Luevo said, a bit apprehensive, “Those otters look rather hungry.”

“Closest one I can surmise is several days away,” Shetavalk said.

“So we walk to the bridge, then,” Luevo said.

“And delay us?” G-Wiz grumbled, “Fat chance. The sooner we get out of here, the better. I'm sick of hearing you whine and complain.”

“It's not whining and complaining!” Luevo defended, “I just don't want to die!”

“Yer screamin' too much,” Nole growled, “Yer all too scared. Here, I'll distract 'em. The rest of yous best be on yer way.”

“Are you...” Joseph glanced at the troll, “Are you sure?”

“Aww, gettin' soft, lad?” Nole gave him a lopsided, almost villainous grin.

“Fat chance, I hope you taste as bad as you smell,” Joseph said.

Nole let out a sharp, pointed chuckle as he began trudging into the water.

“Don't worry, Papa Nole will just be a moment.”

Then he submerged completely, though Luevo could see a trail of bubbles begin popping to the surface, moving in the direction of the otters.

“Best we get a move on,” Shetavalk said.

“He was serious,” Joseph said, “Holy shit, he was serious-”

“Get a move on, come on!” G-Wiz yelled. She was second into the water, wading until it reached her waist, before diving in and swimming as fast as she could.

“Shit,” Joseph pushed back Luevo, following in G-Wiz's wake. Shetavalk and the serpent were not far behind.

“Go,” the creature said, “Go, la la.”

“That's the worst one I've heard from you yet,” Luevo said, “And I'm not going, because I'm not an idiot-”

“Go!”

Something lurched in his legs, and Luevo felt himself pulled into the water like a marionette on a puppet's strings. He hadn't gone swimming in ages, and the fact that he couldn't feel the bottom as he tumbled deeper into the river terrified him. He could just barely make out the serpent guildmember ahead of him, great snake tail rowing back and forth like an eel's.

He turned his head over as he paddled to see Nole's large bulk break the surface for a moment, a strange mint green in the sea of brown. Then he surged downwards, apparently to intercept their predators.

“Thou must swim,” the creature rumbled.

“Shut up,” Luevo grimaced.

He had never been a very good swimmer. It was beneath a prince, he felt, to flail about like some sort of drunken octopus. Unless, of course, he was in the privacy of his own bed, and was joined by a lover or three.

Shetavalk and Archenround were already at the opposite shore, the Spioa turning and offering his spear to Joseph, who grabbed hold to pull himself out of the water. Luevo was still halfway across.

“Wait for me!” he screamed, “Your Kimao demands you wait for him! I'm not as fast as you are!”

And now that damnable G-Wiz was on the shore. The guild watched in mute anticipation as Luevo flopped through the muck, his vision darkening from the effort. He was aware of movement to his left.

And then he was aware of something sharp grasping around his ankle and pulling him down.

His mouth and lungs filled with water as he screamed, pain racking up his leg as whatever was grabbing him thrashed about. Luevo could see, through the dark murk of the water, the forms of otters circling around him, though many of them were distracted by a large form pulling at them, clawing at them, diving down to whatever was grabbing the prince.

The otter biting his foot let go, a rush of water swirling away from him.

“Ro la la,” the creature said, “Swim, Luevo.”

Its voice roiled in his mind, bubbling and insubstantial. He floated, downriver and beneath the water, his mind fuzzing away, exhaustion – absolute exhaustion – seeping away whatever little strength remained in his body.

“Ro lay lee, must I do everything?” the creature muttered.

Arms surged out of his shoulders, grasping upwards and pushing through water.

“Thou must swim, Luevo!” the creature rasped, “Ro lay lie, thou shalt die!”

Something weak stirred within him. Weak, yet just strong enough to get his body into motion. Luevo's arms rowed upwards, towards the surface. His chest was beginning to burn from a lack of air -

A hand shot out, electric blue and steaming the water around it. Luevo grabbed hold of it, tension releasing from his body as it pulled him upwards like a fish on the line. It felt like he was holding a sleeping limb, the way it fuzzed over his body.

The metahuman pulled him ashore. Luevo coughed and sputtered, eyes burning as he turned towards the river. Nole was still in there, the pack of otters distracted by the troll, although a few of them were already moving away, sporting nasty claw marks that matted red lines in their fur. The party watched as those that remained dove deeper into the water after Nole. All movement on the surface ceased.

Then, in a burst of panic, the otters erupted out like geysers, squeaks and snarls accompanying them as they retreated downriver, disappearing around the bend. Nole broke the surface of the water a moment after, an ugly, victorious smile on his face as he made his way to the rest of the party. He carried on his back one of the otters, which he unceremoniously tossed to the ground in front of them.

“Dinner,” he said.

Luevo blanched. Nole had been cut to ribbons, flesh stringing down and torn free from his skin. His right arm had been de-sleeved, red muscle and bone marred by the river’s brackish water. Yet he seemed unperturbed, as did the rest of the party save Joseph.

“Jesus,” Joseph said. Luevo noticed he was clutching his stomach, “Are you... are you alright?”

“What, this?” Nole let out a dark chuckle, “Oh, I've had worse.”

As if on cue, the wounds began to knit themselves shut. Skin began creeping up the torn arm, the flesh closing up the bites and scrapes. Even Nole's eye, which had been burst like a jelly donut, began regenerating, re-inflating like a balloon, the pupil sliding back into place.

Luevo turned and vomited his lunch. Joseph looked like he wanted to join him.

“Gross, Nole,” G-Wiz said.

“What?” Nole said, “Ye can see worse at a movie theater.”

“Grab what you can of the otter,” Shetavalk said, “We travel light. My liege, your leg.”

Luevo, his ribs and stomach aching from his heaving, looked down. A nasty bite mark punctured his leg, the wound leaking freely down his leg, staining his traveling robes.

“Oh,” Luevo said. He was aware he was beginning to slip, “O-oh.”

And he lost consciousness.

***

“Oh, quit making fun of him, Nole. This is probably the worst wound he's ever had,” G-Wiz said.

They had to make camp for the night by the river bank. The prince still hadn't regained consciousness – though Joseph suspected he was faking it, giving them an excuse for him to rest. Archenround had bound Luevo's leg with a thick bandage, stuffing it with a few sharp-smelling herbs to prevent infection. The prince rested now in one of the tents.

“Aw, he can't even hear us,” Nole said, “What he can't hear won't hurt 'im. 'Sides, you know I'm right.”

“Maybe,” G-Wiz said, “But maybe you should, I don't know, lay off him a little?”

“G, is that a bit of compassion?” Nole chuckled, “That's rich, comin' from ye.”

G-Wiz shot him a glare, “I'm not goin' soft, if that's what you think.”

“Ah, whatever,” Nole said, “If he lives, he'll get tough. Lord knows, I have.”

He flexed a bicep, pointing at a near-imperceptible sliver of slightly lighter flesh, “See this 'ere? Almost my entire arm was damn near torn off by a Dire Tyrannosaur.”

“A dire tyrannosaur...?” Joseph asked.

“Aye. Like a tyrannosaur, but dire.”

“Must've been a dire situation,” Joseph said. The thought of Nole's past injury made his stomach turn, “So you, what, regenerate?”

“Aye,” Nole said, “The worst shit like this leaves scars. Good scars – though all scars are good.”

“No wonder you went into the river first, then,” Joseph said, “You knew the otters were coming. You knew you could take them.”

Nole nodded, “Aye.”

“No wonder you're such an ass about things, too. Anything that's thrown at you, you can heal from. There's no real challenge, no real growth.”

Nole narrowed his eyes at Joseph's words. He brought a claw over to his flex bicep, digging it into his flesh and pulling downwards. Blood trailed with it, then became subsumed by flesh as it healed away. His bicep was trembling.

“Still hurts, lad,” Nole said, “I felt all o' that back there. Every single bite. I feel everything. Every time something like that happens, I feel Sister Death beckoning me to her side.”

And Joseph – for the first time – didn't feel the need to retort. He went quiet, humbled by the troll's serious tone. Nole turned his hooked nose towards him.

“So don't pretend like I don't know pain, lad. I've got more scars than ye have skin.”

Luevo rustled in his tent.

“The sleeping prince awakens,” Shetavalk noted.

“And we didn't even need a kiss,” G-Wiz said.

Archenround slithered over to his side, extending out an arm. One which the prince took, groaning as he rose up. For a moment, Luevo rubbed his temples. Then he looked down at his leg.

And screamed.

“By the gods, I'm mutilated!”

“Shut up!” Nole growled.

“I'm a monster!” the prince fell to his side, tears springing down his cheeks, “My leg! My beautiful leg!”

His watery eyes fell on Shetavalk and contorted into rage.

“You've ruined me!” he hissed, “You and your guild! If you had been faster, I wouldn't be a... a... a monster!”

There was no better term for it. Shetavalk broke down into a fresh fit of sobs again, clutching at his bandaged limb. Even Joseph had to roll his eyes at the sight.

“Relax,” he said, “My... prince, or whatever. It's only a leg.”

“Only-” Luevo's head shot out from his nested arms, “Only a leg? Maybe to you, you stupid little peasant, but a king cannot be a cripple. A... a...”

“It's honestly not that bad,” G-Wiz said, “Seriously, that could've been a lot worse.”

“It could've been a lot better too-”

And Archenround, clutching a large, seven-star leaf, wrapped a hand around Luevo's face. Luevo let out a wild, muted scream, thrashing this way and that, and then was still.

“Chloroform?” Joseph asked.

Archenround nodded, shooting Joseph a few hand signals.

“Something akin to that,” G-Wiz translated, “He'll be out for a while.”

“God, finally,” Joseph said, “I thought he'd never shut up.”

“And I thought I'd never agree with the newbie,” Nole grunted. He rose to his feet, “Shetavalk, shall we continue?”

“It's getting late,” Shetavalk said. He closed his eyes. Joseph noted the wind pick up for a few moments, clean and clear, certainly cooler than the jungle's mug. The wind of the Spioa – he could almost see their spiked limbs traveling with the breeze.

“The jungle, it's quiet,” the Spioa said at last.

“Somethin's hunting us,” Nole growled.

“Whatever caused that avalanche?” G-Wiz asked. There was a slight tremble in her voice.

“Perhaps,” Shetavalk answered. He turned back towards the river, looking behind them and the path they had forged through the jungle. Much of it was disturbed now, Joseph noted – branches and leaves bent back to push forward. An obvious trail, Joseph was sure even he would have been able to follow them.

“G-Wiz,” Shetavalk's voice was quiet, “Make a camp above us.”

“You got it,” G-Wiz began to pad her keytar, small electric-pink notes wafting upwards, popping like balloons above with a synthetic zap. The pink stuck to the trees, forming a floor.

“Kind of obvious, don't you think?” Joseph asked.

“Too obvious,” Shetavalk said, “But it makes an effective canopy in the treetops high above. Nole, climb over and set a tent up there.”

Nole complied, grappling onto a tree trunk and zipping upwards. A few minutes passed as he propped a tent up high above.

“No, we'll be using less obvious means,” the Spioa said, “Up in the treetops, nonetheless. Larger predators stalk the forest at night.”

He walked a bit deeper into the jungle, spear poking at various trunks, before he seemed satisfied with one of them and began to climb. Archenround, who had tied Luevo to her back, followed him up. Joseph craned his neck upwards. There were plenty of large branches, and he could see that Archenround was lashing a few of them together, putting blankets on top of them. With a sigh, Joseph prepared to join them. Electrical arms surged out of his shoulders. Just the arms – he didn’t need to bring out the whole thing. The clawed hands curled around the trees and began to climb up.

“We'll need to keep watch,” Shetavalk said as he saw Joseph reach their makeshift fort, “Both to make sure none of us fall and to make sure whatever's hunting us...”

He went quiet at that, casting a furtive glance towards the ground below. He could see Nole catching up to them now, G-Wiz hanging onto his back, arms wrapped around his neck.

“What's chasing us, Shetavalk?” Joseph asked, “Seriously, you don't have to hide it.”

“I have my suspicions,” Shetavalk said.

“Just suspicions?” Joseph asked.

The Spioa sighed, “Well, they need to be able to survive the intense cold, and keep up with us – though, that isn't difficult, considering how slow the going is.”

“Okay,” Joseph said. His electrical arms fizzled out, and he leaned on a tree branch, arms resting behind his head, “What else?”

“I see...” Shetavalk went quiet, as though he was unsure of what to say. No, unwilling to speak, as though just saying his theories would bring them into reality. Archenround slithered from her perch, having hung Luevo from a branch, and rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at it, seeming to steel himself, before continuing.

“I see two theories,” he began, “The first is that the avalanche was a natural occurrence, and that we lost our pursuer.”

“Makes sense,” Joseph said, but something in the way Shetavalk had spoken that rubbed him the wrong way, “What's the other theory?”

Nole and G-Wiz had finished joining them. Shetavalk turned to the troll.

“Nole, what did you hear?”

“When?”

“During our trek through the mountains, just before the avalanche,” Shetavalk said.

Nole scratched his chin, making purchase against a stray hair that he plucked out, “Hmm, a wee bit difficult to remember...”

“Please, it is imperative.”

“Shit, Sheets, ye expect me to remember what I heard?”

“You were the most alert of us,” Shetavalk said.

“I smelled shit, but I didn't hear anythin',” Nole growled. Then he scratched his chin, “No, wait, I do remember hearin'... somethin'.”

The group were staring at him as he pondered at his memory, teeth bared and grinding as he struggled to remember the details just before the snowslide.

“Lemme be clear,” Nole said, “What I remember... it might be wrong. Brain plays tricks on ye, puts in yer mind what's not there 'cause yer mind's expectin' somethin' to be there.”

“What was it, then?” Shetavalk said.

“Hammerin', of some sort,” Nole said, “Or... punchin'. It was repeated, one, two, lost in the storm.”

“That's not really much to go off of,” Joseph said, crossing his arms, “It's as you said, you could be misremembering.”

“All the same,” Shetavalk said, “One must not be so hasty when it comes to the multiverse. If Nole heard hammering, perhaps he did.”

G-Wiz began to catch onto Shetavalk's musings. Her forehead knitted in concern as she said, “You're not saying-”

“That whoever pursued us was strong enough to punch the mountain until they triggered an avalanche,” Shetavalk said.

His words hung in the air. Despite the warmth and humidity of the jungle, Joseph felt his blood run cold as the full meaning of the Spioa's theory tumbled down on him, as harsh and as intense as the avalanche.

“That's-” he stammered, “That's impossible. There's no way-”

“It's not unheard of,” Shetavalk said, “There are powerful individuals out there. Aldr, the guildmaster of Blue Sky Waiting, is said to be strong as a mountain-”

“We'd know if it was Aldr chasing us,” G-Wiz's voice was higher than normal, “He'd make a big show of it-”

Behind them, Luevo stirred. Joseph spun – perhaps a bit too quickly, as Nole let out a chuckle as he stared at the prince. Luevo got up, shivering a bit as he yawned.

“What's going on?” he asked, “Something about punching a mountain?”

“Knew he was awake,” G-Wiz groaned, “Jesus, dude, you're the worst.”

“As your prince-”

“Not my prince,” G-Wiz spat.

“As Kimao, then, I take offense,” Luevo sat up, “Really, you should all be more polite when speaking to me.”

“We're talking about important shit,” Joseph said, “So unless you have something to say, keep quiet.”

“Excuse me, I am not some child to be coddled!” Luevo said, “If something is pursuing me, I'd like to know what.”

Nole turned to Shetavalk, “Then what is pursuing us, Sheets?”

The Spioa was quiet, before simply shaking his head.

“I don't know.”

Luevo blinked, “You don't know? Then why are you even here, then?”

“Hey, watch it,” Nole warned.

“We'll take watch,” Shetavalk interrupted, “Please, friends, enough. We should rest – we don't know what lies ahead.”

“Or behind,” Nole growled.

“Indeed. Nole, Archenround, you're on first watch. The rest of you, get some sleep.”

A dark tension hung in the air as Nole glared at the prince. Luevo returned Nole's look with a foppish smirk, before he settled down.

“Wake me up in the morning, will you?” he said, “Your prince needs his beauty sleep.”

***

Joseph was awoken for the second shift. Shaken awake by Archenround, who was already slithering down the tree trunk to where Luevo was situated. Joseph was surprised as she rustled him out of his stupor. He could hear his light curses as he glared up at her. His voice, tightened and annoyed, meandered its way upwards to where Joseph was resting.

“Ahh, yes, the one who can't speak.”

Silence.

“Yes, I can read your sign language. I did have to take a second language at university, you know. We're not all swamp rats here, contrary to popular belief. Now, what in the hell did you wake me up for? I'm not going to, ah, bed you, if that's-”

Joseph heard a sharp slap and Luevo cry out.

“Fine, fine! I'll shut up. What do you want?”

Another bout of silence – Joseph supposed Archenround was signing to him. He wasn't sure how the prince could see her in the darkness, but his voice became far quieter, more sullen, before Joseph heard him shimmy up the tree. He could just make out the prince's eyes, which glowed faintly in the dark, a silver sheen that seemed to capture the light of the crescent moon high above.

“Apparently,” he said, “I am to keep watch with you.”

“Archenround convinced you of that, then,” Joseph said.

“It appears not everyone agrees with your leader's decisions,” Luevo said, “Really, you Amber Foundation are quite the unruly lot.”

Joseph simply shrugged in reply. Luevo, the silver light of his eyes lighting the world ever so subtly, gave him a lopsided smirk. It looked eerie, cast in the half darkness, a toothless Cheshire's smile.

“You don't seem to have much of an opinion here, huh,” he said.

“I'm not staying with the guild for much longer,” Joseph said, “So all of this is just...”

“Another job. You deal with the bullshit, keep your head down, get paid. I can respect that,” Luevo let out a chuckle, “You're just another mercenary.”

Something about Luevo's words rankled Joseph. A spark of anger poked in his chest, “Just another mercenary?”

Luevo gave a sinister sort of smile.

“There's a difference,” he said, “Between guilds and mercenary companies.”

“And what’s that?” Joseph’s voice was jagged.

“Guilds care,” Luevo said, “The jobs they choose define them. Some guilds only take specific work.”

“Like Weatherfolk,” Joseph said.

“Yes, like Weatherfolk,” Luevo chuckled, “Whatever the matter is, guilds care about the jobs they choose. They choose meanings for themselves through the work they do. But you?”

His smirk, those glowing eyes, took on a darker sheen.

“You're just a mercenary. You don't have a meaning.”

The words hammered at Joseph like a punch in the gut. He turned to look towards the horizon, shrouded in night as it was, biting down a retort. He had heard those words before, though not quite so flowery and direct. He couldn’t deny the prince’s bullshit, could he?

Because somewhere, deep down, he was afraid Luevo was right.

And he didn't want to face that. Not now.

“You seem to know a lot about guilds, don't you?” Joseph said, trying to hide the quaver in his voice.

“Oh, lord, my schooling on Kelstonda was all 'guild this' and 'Federation that,'” Luevo said, “Trust me, Jordan of Earth, be glad you come from an isolated plane. Most places out here, they worship the Federation. Want to be them, emulate them in every action they take, desperately try to pretend to be part of their makeup.”

He let out a high-pitched, forced laugh that whined through the quiet forest. It was still silent out – the world still taut as a fishing line. The prince's laugh, in light of that, felt like metal scraping on metal.

“But you, you're a mercenary, you don't care about that,” Luevo said, “So I'm going to offer you an out.”

“An... out?” Joseph, heart still hammering from the sudden outburst, turned to stare at him. Luevo's eyes were glowing with a cheery air that belied something roiling beneath. Something angry.

“It's obvious you don't like anyone here,” Luevo said, “And, to be honest, I'm feeling a bit... charitable. Yes, that's the word.”

“Charitable.”

“Indeed. This trip has made me see that life is hard and pushes you down,” Luevo rolled his eyes, smile still plastered on his face. He fished into the depths of his robes, producing a small, pure white stick.

“A cigarette. Thanks,” Joseph said.

“Please, if I had one of those it'd be long gone by now,” Luevo chuckled, “But no. This, my friend, is a credstick.”

The words registered in Joseph's mind. He turned to Luevo, “From the Federation?”

“No, from Edinburgh,” Luevo replied, “Of course it's from the Federation, you stupid man. And it’s not always easy, smuggling these into non-Federation planes.”

There was a glint in his eye.

“How much is... loaded? On it?”

“Ah, the barbarian and his brain,” Luevo mused, “There are three hundred million credits loaded on this baby, my friend. Enough to buy yourself a ship. Or a house. Or whatever it is you want to buy. It's three hundred million credits.”

“Enough to...” Joseph whispered, “Enough to get me out of here.”

“You're quitting the guild, aren't you?” Luevo said, “You'll certainly need something to help you once you're out. Living isn't free.”

“I could leave the guild now.”

“Yes, and not have to listen to Nole's ramblings, or that G-Wiz girl's snorts. She sounds like quite the pig when she laughs, doesn't she?”

Joseph was quiet, mulling over Luevo's offer. It was, truth be told, a good one. He could avoid the entire journey. Avoid the dangers. Avoid whatever was hunting them. Avoid Nole.

His hand snaked out, reaching across towards Luevo, who leaned forward.

Then retreated back.

“What's the catch?” he asked.

“The catch?” Luevo said.

“There's always a catch,” Joseph said, “What do you want from me?”

“My trade is simple, Mr. Jim,” Luevo said, “Take the money, get out of here, and I have one less bastard whose face I have to see every fucking minute of this journey.”

“...That's it?”

“That's it.”

Words whispered in Joseph’s head. Becenti’s teaching him about metahumanity. Broon, Rosemary, and Contort laughing with him on a wagon, picked up by the wind and carried far behind them. Wakeling’s calm, motherly voice, giving him far more than he deserved.

The man on the space station, his scream cut short by the loss of his throat.

And Joseph's hand closed over the credstick.

There was a rustle behind him. Movement. A large form towering over him. Joseph turned around, noting that Luevo was melting into the shadows. Nole's hot breath breathed down, coating his shoulders in warm mist.

“Shoulda known ye'd be bought off easy,” Nole said.

Joseph looked at the credstick resting in his palm.

“I never wanted to be here,” Joseph said.

“Then ye shouldn't have volunteered for the job,” Nole grunted.

“I meant here, in the multiverse,” Joseph said, “In... all of this. In the guild. I want to go home, Nole.”

“That don't matter now,” Nole said, “Not here. We got a job to do, and I'll be damned if'n I let one of our own turn tail an' run.”

“Oh, so I'm one of your own now, am I?” Joseph objected, “That's rich, coming from you. You've been ragging on me since I got to Castle Belenus.”

“Yer Amber Foundation.”

“I don't feel like it,” Joseph muttered, “And you definitely haven't helped with that.”

“It don't matter. Ye came with us. Here, on this job. That means yer part o' the guild, beholden to the rules. And we don't just drop jobs like whores at a brothel.”

A meaty hand came down heavy on his shoulder. Nole's grip was like iron, claws digging into his jacket, would have pierced through if not for the coat's enchantments.

“Whatever deals ye got with the prince are yer own business, but ye ain't leavin'.”

“I am, and you can't stop me,” Joseph said.

“Wanna bet?”

Nole's words came out in a whisper, yet there was challenge to them. Real challenge. Joseph glared up at the silhouette of the troll, the world quiet around them. Something that had been brewing between the two was bubbling over, coming to a head. Shetavalk wouldn't like it.

But Shetavalk was asleep...

Part of Joseph wondered if Luevo had intentionally done this – set him against Nole in this fashion. The prince stood behind them, concealing himself in the shadow of a large branch hanging overhead, silver eyes dancing with cynical amusement at the scene.

But it didn't matter. Joseph stared up at Nole. His soul shuddered and manifested, a hand erupting from his shoulder and pushing Nole's away. The two were caked in the azure glow of the eagle's claw, played in the reflection of Nole's beetle-black eyes. The two of them stood there.

Then Nole tensed. Joseph did too.

“Put your light out,” he growled.

“No,” Joseph said.

“No, lad,” the troll's voice took on a more tense edge, “Put it out, now.”

And then Joseph understood. The fear in Nole's tone was not because of him. Far from it.

Their hunter had arrived.

Luevo began to scream. Something heavy landed behind Joseph, who spun around, soul flaring back to life, only to gasp as a fist the size of a boulder collided with his stomach. It was a backhand, a second thought, almost casual in the way it swept at him. Yet it was enough to knock the wind out of him, enough to send him sailing down to the forest floor, his soul burning to life, shining a tunnel of blue down to the bottom. His electric arms reached down cushioning him as he fell with a thud to the jungle below. Shadows danced in the trees above – Nole screaming and roaring, heavy arms falling on their attacker, though those screams grew distant as he heard the troll get thrown a distance into the jungle.

***

“Luevo!” the creature screeched, “Run! Run, Luevo!”

The prince continued to scream as the Grim Walker strode forward, having tossed Nole aside like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. His black duster billowed in the shadow, camouflaged and melding with the night. Almost nine feet tall, he towered high above the prince, staring down at him with soulless, bright green eyes. Somehow the branch supported his weight, creaking and cracking as he stepped forward.

“Mordenaro!” Luevo screamed, “It's Mordenaro!”

And then Shetavalk was between them, spear flashing forward. It struck Mordenaro, burrowing into his shoulder.

And the Grim Walker grabbed hold of it and pulled.

The Spioa was smart enough to let it go, revealing twin knives from his robes as he did so. He danced forward towards the Grim Walker, who let the blades bury themselves into his chest as he grabbed Shetavalk's shoulder and slammed their heads together. The Spioa went limp, legs dangling over the ground for a brief moment, knives dropping out of his hands, before Mordenaro tossed him away.

“Run, Luevo!” the creature ordered, “Run!”

He felt his body roil, before the creature sprang to life, bursting out of his back and pulling him up, then throwing them to the side. Mordenaro surged forward, trying to grab at him, fingers finding air as Luevo fell down through the trees.

And then felt himself bounce. He looked down to see himself supported by the same neon pink goo that G-Wiz's keytar had produced. She herself was in the tree opposite, fingers frantically playing a tune, yellow lines of energy blazing out of the keytar's handle. She was drawing something on the tree Mordenaro stood on. Words.

“'Grow'” Luevo read.

And the tree began to grow. Slowly at first, then twisting itself further and further upwards, pushing past its brethren and towering into the night sky. Mordenaro was at its top, staring down.

Archenround slithered beside him.

Let's go, she signed.

“Right,” Luevo stammered, “L-lead the way.”

***

Joseph heard a broken crunch next to him.

“Shetavalk!”

The Spioa groaned as he opened his eyes. A deep purple welt was flowering on the top of his head, and his eyes looked bleary. His leg was twisted at an awkward angle. His breathing was quiet and ragged, as though something sharp was lodged in his chest.

“Sheets,” Joseph crawled over to him, “Holy shit, Sheets.”

The Spioa opened his mouth, gasps escaping from his mouth, then closed. Joseph knelt down to him. Shetavalk was whispering, quiet and stuttered, though his words were too broken and quiet to make out. Yet the wind began to pick up around them.

Then his eyes locked with Joseph's.

Go, he mouthed.

Joseph stood up, soul swirling around him, rising to its full height, arms spread out like wings, illuminating the world. Yet he could not pull his gaze away. Shetavalk's chest rose and fell, each breath he took riddled with half-words and broken phrases. His eyes had glazed over now, had taken on an eerie yellow tinge in the light of Joseph's soul.

Then the chest rose and fell one last time.

And the wind continued whipping through the trees.

In the distance, Joseph heard Nole roar as he continued fighting their assailant.

“Work to do,” he whispered.

He turned and began to move, but stopped, turning back to Shetavalk's body. It didn't feel right, leaving him alone like this.

“Work to do,” he repeated. The words seemed to spur him on, and he began running forward.

***

Mordenaro fell to the earth in silence, the jungle cratering beneath him as he strode forward. Luevo paused to turn, watching the Grim Walker push through the trees towards him.

“Idiot!” G-Wiz yelled, “Let's go!”

She was right behind him, strumming her keytar. She pointed its handle, generating a bright pink wall between them and Mordenaro, grabbing Luevo’s hand and pulling him away. They stumbled through the trees. Between them, jumping from branch to branch, Luevo could make out Archenround. She had yet to draw out her two massive blades, her ruby eyes staring down at their attacker, who punched through G-Wiz's wall as though it were nothing, pink light dazzling like broken glass.

Nole roared behind them, loping down and joining up with them.

“Where's Sheets?!” he roared.

“Don't know!” G-Wiz replied, “Joe's MIA, too!”

“He fell down back there,” Nole grunted. He stopped and pivoted, lowering himself down as though he were ready to pounce, “Typical. Now go!”

The prince heard the wind twist as the troll flung himself at Mordenaro, heard the crunch of bones breaking and Nole's screaming, felt the presence of the troll as he was thrown overhead, landing in front of them. G-Wiz and Luevo stopped as they watched Nole rise back up. His right arm had been obliterated – bent in multiple angles, the hand an ugly purple, though the entire limb began snapping back into place. Nole just shot looks at the two of them.

“I said GO!”

They moved past him as he threw himself back at Mordenaro once more.

***

Joseph could make out the battle just ahead of him through his eagle's eyes – the world was sharper, the darkness less foreboding, the silhouettes more detailed.

Not that he wanted detail as he watched the attacker run his fist through Nole's chest. The troll simply barked out a roaring laugh in answer, claws slashing at the dark man’s face, before the mountain spun, tossing Mordenaro-

At Joseph, who dove down, the eagle's arms spreading out to catch the troll. The force involved pushed the eagle back, pulling Joseph along like a fish on a line, tugging at his back and causing cold pain to echo down his spine. Joseph winced as he put the troll down. Already Nole's chest was closing up, and his labored, harsh breath relaxed a bit.

“No time, lad,” the troll gasped, “Best ye help me. Show me what that damn bird's made of.”

“Who the hell is that?” Joseph said.

“Mordenaro,” Nole grunted, “Where's Sheets?”

Joseph opened his mouth. Then closed it, unable to force the words out. Nole nodded.

“Right. So it's us, then. Alright lad, listen up and listen good, 'cause I ain't about to say it again. Mordenaro'll kill ye. Don't make any wrong moves. Hell, even right ones may not be enough. Stay back, lemme take the shots. I can handle 'em.”

And he launched himself forward again. Joseph watched him lope into the shadows.

“Stay back,” he said, “Keep my distance. Right...”

He began chasing after him. Nole was scrapping with Mordenaro again, shadows merging with shadows, as the two danced across the forest floor. At some points, they seemed to meld together, at other points Mordenaro visibly tore Nole away, tossing him into the forest, only for the troll to pounce back in a moment later. In the distance – and getting closer, Joseph noted with a worry – were G-Wiz, Luevo, and Archenround. They had climbed up the trees, G-Wiz perched on one of the branches, her keytar playing a quick ditty.

Nole sailed overhead once more. Mordenaro, with every move, with every interaction with Nole, grew closer to them.

“Right,” Joseph said, “Time to make the donuts.”

The soul drew back into his body. He pointed a finger, blue lightning crackling at his fingertips. He took aim. A moment. Two.

And then, his finger pointed at Mordenaro's back, he let loose the bolt.

The blow sent Mordenaro forward, the line of electricity carrying him forward, past Luevo and G-Wiz's tree. The air became rank with ozone as Joseph ran forward.

“Up the tree, up the tree!” Nole roared, “While we still got time!”

Mordenaro was already getting up. Joseph's soul burst outward, great claws catching onto the knotted trunk and pulling him up. Nole was on the opposite tree, rushing up and meeting with Archenround. The serpent signaled to Nole, who nodded and launched himself down at Mordenaro once more.

“Joe!”

G-Wiz beckoned him over. Joseph, after a moment's consideration, threw himself at the tree she was in, electric claws digging into the bark to pull himself upwards. G-Wiz was desperately playing her keytar, a miasma of mismatched notes. She raised her voice over the electronic din.

“Cooking something up!” she said, “Arc needs you to take the prince!”

“Where?”

“Anywhere! Away from here! Nole's got the ground, Arc's gonna join him!”

“Right!” Joseph said. Then, after a thought, “How do I take him?”

“Carry him, you dolt!” G-Wiz said, “You've got a big fuckin' eagle, use it!”

“Right,” Joseph groaned. He turned to Luevo, “Climb aboard, my prince.”

“Shut up,” Luevo was on the verge of tears, “Just shut up and don't let me die!”

His hand recoiled at the spark of Joseph's soul, which had fully manifested. Joseph rolled his eyes and scooped up the prince in a great claw, hoisting him up onto the eagle's back. Luevo looped his arms around the bird's neck, shivering a bit.

“So...”

“What?” Joseph said, “Weird?”

“Sparky.”

“Real descriptive,” Joseph said, ignoring the prince's further complaints as he concentrated. It was getting easier and easier to use the eagle's movements – to act as though they were his own. It was like moving his own muscles now, the way its arms caught on branch to branch, traveling forward like some kind of ape. They were getting further away from Mordenaro now...

***

The Grim Walker had ceased attempting to placate Nole, and had instead begun seeking ways to take him out of the battle.

It had been a game, Nole realized. A damn fun one, too. Painful, perhaps. But all the best ones were.

Nole always counted the times that he regenerated in a fight. He could do so endlessly – part of the pluses of being a troll, along with good looks and general good cheer. Usually most fights placed one or two regens – enough to heal up after a misplaced knife or burn, here or there.

Mordenaro had caused him to regenerate forty times already. Almost a record.

He was aware that Mordenaro was aware that this was a game. That there was almost no way that Nole could actually beat the Guild of One. And he knew that he knew the natural conclusion of their fight. There was almost a question in Mordenaro's movements, confusion in his action.

“Because I've got a job to do,” Nole growled to himself.

And he rushed at the Grim Walker once more. Mordenaro met his charge, massive hands closing over the troll's shoulders, his far superior strength lifting Nole up and over his head. Nole scrabbled at him, snarling as he landed behind Mordenaro, who strode forward and, in a fluid motion, carved at a tree, his hand burrowing through it. With a snap, the tree began to fall. Nole roared and went forward again as Mordenaro spun, a hand shooting out, batting Nole's fists aside, wrapping around his throat and lifting him into the air. For a moment, the two stared at each other – Mordenaro's eyes were glass-like, cybernetic like Ichabod's. There was a bright green tinge to them, the obvious sign of night vision.

Then Mordenaro plunged Nole down into the jagged stump of the tree, burying him down to the stump's base.

***

“We're going to die,” Luevo cried, “We're all going to die.”

He could only watch as Nole was taken out of the fight, writhing like a worm on a hook, trying to pull himself upwards from the tree stump he had been impaled on. Jeffrey's eagle began climbing higher and higher into the treetops, trying to escape Mordenaro's gaze.

“We shall not die, ro la la,” the creature whispered, “We cannot die, Luevo.”

“Got some bad news, friend,” Luevo sniffed.

Far below, Mordenaro began hefting the fallen tree trunk, putting it on his shoulder as he aimed it like a javelin.

“Shit,” Jose muttered, “Shit-”

He changed directions, trying to make himself smaller, zig-zagging through the trees, the eagle's arms loping from branch to branch in a frantic fashion. Yet Luevo could tell he was inexperienced – sloppy, even with the way he was moving, as though he weren't fully used to his own power.

“My god, man,” Luevo groaned, “Did you just get your power?”

“I just joined the guild, cut me some slack!” Jordan roared below.

It would not be enough. The Guild of One was already watching them like a hawk, eyes following each movement the metahuman took. His throw would be true. Luevo knew this. Perhaps Jacob, deep down, knew this...

And the creature knew this, for it began to rumble and roil in Luevo's bones. He felt its form shift as it began to do... something.

“Ro la la, ro lay lee, thou must leap, jump, be free.”

And Luevo let out a scream of pain as it erupted from his back, twisting and wriggling for a few moments, before solidifying into long, thin, insect-like legs. The legs of a locust, which coiled on the branch of a tree and kicked off with Joseph's leap to the next branch. Mordenaro threw the tree, though his aim was misaligned as the trunk knifed through the air like a javelin, would have hit Luevo head on and broken him from the world.

It went through Joseph's eagle instead, which let out a sudden, echoing screech before shattering.

“Oh,” the creature said, “Whoops.”

And the trio began to fall.

***

The wind was whipping around them as they fell. And it was cold.

Joseph felt cold.

He had felt his soul break before – back on the station, Robber Fly had broken it pretty well. But not like this – not this...

Shattering.

His physical body was fine – though phantom pain spidered its way up his body, up his arms and down his legs. He had curled himself up even as they fell, a dull agony starting to pound with each beat of his heart.

And then he felt something hard slam into his stomach. For a moment, he thought it was Mordenaro, before he looked up and saw Archenround's face. She had caught both of them, arm looped around each of their stomachs, carrying them like bags of grain as she coiled through the trees, using her powerful tail to launch her from trunk to trunk. He could not see Mordenaro – with his eagle's vision gone, the world was dark once more – but he could hear him moving on the jungle's floor below.

No, the only light Joseph could make out was the light of the words G-Wiz was writing on one of the trees close to Mordenaro. She was on a larger palm, still playing her keytar, which now was spitting out a line of yellow light, writing in letters.

Boom, it read.

Mordenaro was approaching. He hadn't noticed it yet – or perhaps he could not read it, or perhaps he did not care. Regardless, he rushed at the tree as the word grew brighter and brighter, and then flared like napalm into a cacophony of oranges and reds around him, lighting the world up like a false sun.

G-Wiz was far away now, resting on a blanket of blue light, which was carried by the increasingly strong winds, looking down below at the explosion. Fire had caught on a few trees, though Joseph watched as the wind, rather than strengthening the flames, began to douse them, choking them down to mere cinders.

His heart fell as Mordenaro rose out of the remains of the explosion. There was light now from what few sparks remained, and he could make out more of their attacker. Almost nine feet tall, he was wearing a long black duster that seemed unperturbed by the G-Wiz's detonation. Long, oily black hair hung off of his head, and his eyes pierced green through the artificial dawn. He began to take a step forward.

Only to find himself pushed back. Joseph felt the wind begin blowing in the opposite direction, swirling around the large man. Mordenaro pushed against the wind, only for it to force him back into the same spot once more. Joseph could see arms in the wind now, thousands of tendrils of air keeping himt rooted nearly in place.

“Spioa,” Luevo coughed, “Lots of them.”

“Thousands of them,” Joseph said.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Joseph looked up to see Archenround. She pointed beyond the jungle.

“Right,” Joseph said. He shivered, feeling a profound emptiness well within him, “L-lead the way.”

Archenround took off once more, bounding from tree to tree, both Joseph and Luevo in tow. They all could feel Mordenaro's eyes boring into them as they disappeared into the jungle.