For a few minutes, it seemed like we were in the clear. The creator’s attempted emergence didn’t seem to be going well at all, and after dodging and weaving through its constantly growing limbs, we were clear of the mountainous blister. Oil returned to the ground, albeit slowly and in small amounts at a time. I was almost ready to call that we’d made it without anything bad happening, but that hinged on one small factor.

I still couldn’t see the exit. And the creator could easily catch up to us any time it decided to burst free. There was no way it wasn’t going to make it out of its prison by the time we found the exit, so I had to be ready for the worst to come.

“How’re your battery levels looking?” I asked Jun through huffing breaths, running harder than I’d run in quite a long while. Keeping up with her was… harder now. “Because I think you’d have better luck empowering yourself instead of putting it on me.”

Jun tilted her head to the side in question. “Why?”

“Your stats.” I said plainly. “I don’t have anything that helps with this kind of thing, so your raw stats are better suited to this. Don’t waste your battery on me.”

“Huh.” Jun murmured to herself, staring at me as she ran easily over the strange terrain. “Good point. I guess I’m still not really used to thinking of myself like that.”

{If you’re anything like most of the recruits that come through, then ya weren’t taught ta think of yourself as valuable.} Okeria said bitterly. {You’re just one small flower in a garden. It’s your job ta grow big and strong under the others, not stand out in any way at all. It’s why I had Thraiv train our kids by herself instead of putting them through the abyss ya did, Juniper.}

“Sounds nice. They seemed like good people.” Jun said flatly. “Maybe keep them away from the all-world for as long as you can.”

Okeria laughed humourlessly, knocking his head against Mortician’s chest as he did. {I have been. Thraiv got ‘em all ready in two years, and they’ve been pestering us ta come over ever since. I’ve done my best ta make this place as safe for them as I can, but with Endra and everything happening now, we’re the least safe we’ve been since the war. Too bad home’s not safe anymore, either.}

I raised an eyebrow. That was partly news to me; I’d heard that Jun’s parents were killed, but I didn’t think that extended beyond the Keratilys. “I thought Moricla was only targeting Keratilys?”

{She is, there are people targeting Moricla. A few of the gods have taken sides; some are with Moricla on cutting away the blighted flesh, and others are saying that death isn’t a suitable punishment for what’s been going on.} Okeria explained. {Thraiv’s taken a neutral stance; she just wants ta make sure no more people get hurt than who need ta. And some people need hurting back home, Sebastian.}

“People need hurting here too.” Jun said bitterly. “So what’s happening? Is everyone at war now?”

Mortician winced at the mention of war. “Are the innocent going to be alright?”

{No. They’re always the first to go in war.} Okeria said solemnly. {Even if they don’t die, they ain’t innocent any more. I really, really hope Moricla knows what she’s doing. We can’t afford a huge refugee surge while we’re dealing with the Endra problem.}

I hadn’t even thought of that. A ton of new, weak, and emotionally vulnerable Staura appearing would be horrible for the balance of power. The ‘good’ would try to keep them safe and sound, and that would open them up to attacks from Endra. Or the Keratilys. Or… well, whoever the worst of the Staura were. I really didn’t know their history.

“Do those refugees include your kids?” I asked.

Okeria sighed and leaned against Mortician. {It don’t include them, because Thraiv convinced me ta take care of ‘em here until everything blows over. I told her again and again that they can’t get back until they can get through a connecting hazard, none of which are less than level fourty or so, so they can’t just… vacation here. But she insisted that they’d be safer with us than with her.}

“Wait. With us? You told Thraiv about us?” Jun skeptically asked. “Did you tell her about what Seb is? How about Mortician? Or what Keratily does to her own grandkids? How much did you tell her?”

{I… it was hard, not telling her all that I wanted ta. But I kept everything about Seb and Mortician a secret; he’s Persephonia’s illegitimate child as far as my family knows. If ya ever meet ‘em, then ya can choose ta tell ‘em the truth or keep that lie going.}

That was… a lot more loyalty than I’d expected. Especially from the guy who tried to take almost everything he got his hands on. “Thanks. Seriously. We’ll keep away from your family as well as we can.”

{What? That’s not what I was getting at. I’d be more than happy if the three of ya met my kids; you’re some of the best people I’ve met, and I’d like ta think I’ll still be able ta help ya out even if I’ve gotta stay back in Rainbow Basin. Like your… connection ta our home base. A safe space for ya ta come back ta when ya need a little break from everything.} Okeria suggested with… vulnerability in his voice. {I… don’t have many people I can trust on a personal level. I thought Keratily was one of ‘em, and Persephonia obviously ain’t around any more. Sure, I’ve got business associates and connections, but none of ‘em care about my kids or Thraiv. Let me help you any way I can. It’s all I can do ta make up for… not doing anything about Keratily and Persephonia for so long.}

Ah, guilt. That was something I was all too familiar with. And this was the misplaced guilt of someone who truly didn’t have control over their surroundings. The worst kind of guilt, since all you could do with it was look back and say ‘I should’ve known’ or ‘I should’ve done something’. Even when you knew that, in the moment, there was absolutely nothing you could’ve done.

“I think we could use some connections in Rainbow Basin, don’t you, Seb?” Jun asked but her tone didn’t have a question in it. She wanted a connection within her own people. That had been Keratily, but that obviously didn’t work out. So why not go for the next best thing? A man who stole our eel and was a self-styled ex-fanatic who married his god?

I shook my head and chuckled to myself. It sounded so strange when it was all put together in front of me. And he had been the one to deduce that I was The End’s chosen. Having him on our side was infinitely better than not, but even that didn’t feel right. Sure, he’d tried to steal shit, and he probably had some things in his inventory that rightfully belonged to Jun, Keratily, or I, but if that was his biggest hangup, then I could deal with that.

“So, you’re a kleptomaniac. But you didn’t steal Mortician’s pieces. That means you can control yourself at least a little.” I said bluntly. Okeria hemmed and hawed through our communicators before grudgingly confirming I was right. “Tell me what it feels like when you see something you want. Do you even register that you’re stealing it?”

{...If it’s something I really want, no. I just walk past it, and if I even noticed it, it’s in my inventory. I can’t control it. But that’s only for things I want. Which, I will admit is… more things than not.} Okeria carefully admitted. {It doesn’t mean I can’t control myself, like I did with Mortician’s pieces, but it takes almost all of my focus to make sure I don’t steal anything.}

“And the following selling of that thing?” Jun asked, but with curiosity, not annoyance. “Why don’t you return it once you know you stole it?”

{Hah! Ya kidding me?} Okeria laughed a laugh that slowly turned into a sigh. {Ya think anyone would just say ‘right, I forgive ya for stealing all the meat from our kill’? No, they get pissy like they’ve got all the rights in the world ta be, and things get messy. I just find a way ta pay them the value of the things I stole when I get the chance.}

“You know that doesn’t make up for stealing their shit in the first place, right?” I pointed out.

{Course not. That’s why I don’t go ta anyone’s houses or museums or whatnot for anything any more. I know I can’t control myself, so I try ta stay outta situations where I’d need ta control myself. And if that don’t work, I try ta make sure whatever I stole goes ta the right places. Like that ‘eel’ of yours. I sold the flesh, bones, and organs ta a research lab that’d use ‘em for scientific advancement. Then I sold all the reproductive materials that weren’t destroyed ta the preservationists so they could make more of ‘em.}

Okeria took a deep breath, then added: {Course, I know that don’t make it right. I do what I can ta make good of the bad I do, but I know it hurts people. And I don’t want ta hurt people. But I can’t… not. It’s just… me. I’m the rotten part, but I can’t cut it out. I quarantine it as best as I can, but I just can’t cut it out.}

Ouch. That sounded like it came from somewhere usually reserved for those deep self-doubts that ate away at you one slow bite at a time.

“I don’t know how we’d do anything without at least one ally in this world, and I guess we can settle for you.” I said with defensive sarcasm. But no; this wasn’t the time for that. Okeria needed to know we didn’t just need him. He needed to know we wanted him. “Ah, fuck, that came out wrong. We trust you, Okeria. I know what it’s like to have something consume your life that you can’t control, and I’ve seen it ruin a lot of my old friends’ lives. We’ll keep everything important to us in our inventories, and then it won’t matter if you’ve got perpetually sticky fingers.”

“Yeah. If we don’t have anything for you to steal, then you’re just a normal person around us.” Jun agreed. Though it didn’t have quite the message I wanted to send, it seemed like the thought got through to Okeria anyways.

He let out a low laugh absolutely soaked in relief. {Thanks. I’ll do everything I can ta help ya.}

Air rushed over my shoulders, carrying with it countless tiny shards of stone and a thin film of oil. I flinched in surprise and instinctively turned towards the source of the expulsion, and then the sound hit me like a reversed sonic-boom.

It felt and sounded like I’d been standing next to the world’s largest balloon, and someone had the wonderful idea to over inflate it to the point of bursting. The crack of the rapid destruction of the creator’s oil membrane hit me like an auditory slap in the face, shearing away any thoughts of my previous conversation for one single thought that I probably should’ve been having all this time now.

“GO! GO!” Jun screamed over the shriek of the newly-birthed monstrosity, her legs already pounding ground as her etching flared on the both of us. Everything went into slow-motion while I dumbly followed a half-second later, my feet digging into the pebbles as I put a little too much downward force into my steps.

Even still, I could feel the creator’s newest spawn glaring at us. I heard when it surged to the ground like a raging oily river, planting its blade-like limbs in the ground with the keening shriek of a grindstone wearing away weaker rock. Then came the incessant clicking. Constant impacts that didn’t even shake the ground moving with inhuman grace, catching up to us so damn quickly that I didn’t dare to look back.

If it wasn’t so mortally terrifying, I would’ve made the comparison to being chased by the world’s most dangerous knitter. But all I could hear was the sound that sci-fi creatures made when they got so close to their kill, that clicking and tearing of flesh that wasn’t moving quite right being forced into places it wasn’t meant to go. My lungs burned from the strange burst of exertion, and I could hear Jun gasping alongside me.

Ten seconds passed. The creator approached. My legs itched like there were ants crawling inside of my bones.

Twenty seconds passed. Jun was supposed to be out of battery by now, but she was still desperately holding strong. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. The creator was so close I could feel the spray from its legs destroying the ground behind us. My brain wanted to tear itself apart, split between trying to understand and feel so many sensations that it knew couldn’t be real. The itch spread to all my bones. My teeth felt full of buzzing gnats. It was as if spiders were tugging on my muscles to force my body to move. And countless buzzing things swam through my blood, letting off electrical shocks that burned like molten embers wherever they pleased.

The creator was doing something to the oil in my body.

And I still couldn’t see the exit.