Ralph and Tantus boarded a mostly wooden carriage that attached to two large metal wheels. These wheels were indented, this gave them a lip that wrapped around the extra thick railings that lead from the center of the city up toward the moving islands. At this time of day, the line to enter the rail car was short with most people attending to daily tasks instead of traveling back and forth.

The rail car was large enough to seat twenty people excluding the driver. The roof of the car had several windows in it allowing the passengers to see the large islands above sliding back and forth along a series of rails. Two rails on either side of the car were the largest the two had yet seen. They didn’t bow or flex and it seemed like they were load bearing.

“How do you think people get up there without this thing?” asked Ralph.

“You’d have to hike up the mountain to get the overhang. Might be another entrance up there,” postulated Tantus.

“First time in the city?” asked a gnome passenger.

“Yes, yes. I’m on my way to the Tower in the Jinkbon’s district. Do you know which island it is on?” asked Tantus.

“Biggest one up there. Alva Tuul. That is the center for magic in the city. Sure, you could get a magic item from a shop in the city proper, but all the best stuff can only be found on Alva Tuul,” answered the gnome.

“Looks like that’s our destination,” said Ralph, absentmindedly stroking the hilt of his sword.

“I suppose there is a sequence to the shifting of the islands. Do they moor somewhere so people can come and go?” asked Tantus.

“Yup, at the rail junction. Same place the rail car stops. You might have to wait until it slides into place but there are some restaurants and shops up there. The main entrance empties out into the wild lands. It’s a playground for hunters. House Tuskaxe maintains a presence up there and they are tasked with guarding that approach from all manner of beasties. Just a little regional trivia for you. I’m Belias by the way,” answered Belias, extending his hand in greeting.

“Gosh, where are my manners. My name is Tantus, and this is my friend Ralph. I’ve come a long way to study rune crafting,” said Tantus.

“Oh, that’s a very rare profession. You must be someone important to be able to learn that” spoke Belias, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Nothing to be concerned about. I’m just hoping it helps with my enchantment skills. It has been a struggle in recent years,” said Tantus before Ralph put his hand on his shoulder.

“We don’t need to saddle the nice gnome with your life story, bud. It’s very nice to meet you Belias, can you recommend a nice place for us to get something to eat when we arrive up top?” asked Ralph, not so subtly steering the conversation away from why they were there.

Belias was wearing leather overalls much in the same design as the trolly operator from earlier. His hair was red and wild. Across his belt there were many small tools lined in through loops. He stood from his seat at this point and began rubbing his chin in thought. Then he turned back to them and held up a finger.

“Okay, there is a small mom and pop café about five minutes’ walk from the station. It is called Foam and Pint. Whatever you do, do not enter Trophies Hall. That’s a primarily Tuskaxe establishment. If you don’t want to hear lengthy stories about hunting big game, avoid that place. Also, they get into lots of fights,” replied Belias before taking his seat again.

Deacon now found himself in another dark cave system. He could still hear the ocean, so he knew the exit was somewhere up ahead. Even after an hour of walking on an incline in bare feet, he was still relying on his soul sight to see. It painted the cold, wet rock in various hues of green. Every now and then he felt something small skitter away from his foot falls. That only made him pick up the pace.

The tunnel he was in measured about eight feet wide according to his aura range. It was odd to have the very edges of his aura pressing against the walls. He was so used to having the full range to work with that this stunted environment felt even more oppressive. The worst part to him was this was definitely a smugglers tunnel dug by Deep Dwellers. The maximum height at any given point was barely six feet. Several times he had to duck to get through some sections.

‘With all of this excess time, you’d think training might have occurred to you,’ came the voice of Sun Wu in his head.

“Training what? Walking? Which specific ability are you referring to exactly? The one that sets everything on fire or maybe the one that’ll help me crush cans. I certainly can’t train Spectral Jump while I’m in here,” whined Deacon.

‘Didn’t you capture the soul of a creature that would be perfect for this environment. You could train your shape shifting ability. How much hand holding do you really need?’ Sun Wu asked rhetorically.

“I can only change into alphas of the species. Those are usually the biggest. Do you really think that ram would fit in here? What if I encounter some kind of rock monster? I’ll need to change back before—” Deacon abruptly stopped talking as he turned a corner and almost fell hundreds of feet onto the rocks below.

His quick reflexes managed to save him as he grasped onto the side wall of the tunnel. Deacon hadn’t noticed the light becoming brighter as the tunnel began to increase in height. He looked to his right to see a ocean waves battering themselves against the jagged rocks below. To his left was a slight ledge that subtly inclined up toward another outcropping. There was water cascading down either side of the outcropping.

Deacon followed the ledge not looking up and not looking down. His face was firmly pressed to the stone in front of him and his eyes only looked toward the next foot fall. Deep in the recesses of his mind he idly thought that having boots on might have made this worse. As it stood his feet were able to grip more firmly to whatever he stepped on. Everything from round eroded rocks to loose dirt. Once he got close enough to the first small waterfall he stopped. Peering across at the shelf of rock jutting out, Deacon knew he’d have to use Spectral Jump to get there. At this point he imagined that only he could do it. He scratched at a persistent itch on his back that had been bugging him for a while. He was sorely tempted to put his back to the rock wall and use it like sandpaper.

Once the itching had passed, he got back to the matter at hand. The sky above him was sparsely clouded with rays of sunlight shining down on the sea. If he wasn’t clinging to the side of cliff wall it would be picturesque. He lined up his jump and thought better of it. Deacon then extended his dragon claws getting a good grip on the rock to his left. The rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the rocks below became a countdown of sorts for him. He waited for the next crash, then activated Spectral Jump. He launched himself through the air with the stream of fresh water running down the surface of the wall to his left. Deacon managed to get his right hand onto the lip of the ledge before clamping down hard with his claws. His legs swung out under him from the momentum of his jump. Now they were just dangling there as he held on with one hand.

Deacon’s new skill Mountaineering told him he needed to swing his left arm up and secure his grip. This knowledge fired across his mind at the same time small stones began to pelt the top of his head. The portion of the shelf he was holding was coming free from the rest. He didn’t know if it was because the water rushing down either side of it loosened the soil, or his weight was just too much but he needed to do something fast. An idea came to mind and he acted without thinking.

“That’s heavy man.”

He triggered a shift to the Suppression Plane of power. His aura taking on a light grey color at the top and a dark grey color at the bottom. He then pumped fifty soul energy into Newtonian Vice swapping up and down in his personal gravity field. Immediately he began to fall up, the rock he was holding no longer interested in meeting the ocean but now pointing toward the sky. With this shift the loose scrabble started lifting up and Deacon used the inverted momentum to swing himself up and over the ledge.

Deacon took a few seconds to look around once he gained his footing. This ledge was sticking fifteen feet out over the ocean and away from the wall. The water running down each side was coming from the top of the cliff where a spire of rock reached out over the edge. That spire had some trees on it as well as lots of moss. It was about two hundred yards straight up from his position. Deacon then looked to his right to see if the ledge continued past this point but there was nothing over there. This must be the point Typhus said he needed to start climbing. In his mind, Deacon wondered if it was a bad idea to try to scale a cliff face after days of rain soaked the area.

It took several hours without ropes, anchors, or any of the other necessary accoutrements that were needed to climb mountains. Deacon had to make do with raw strength, infinite endurance, and his dragon claws. By his estimations, it was late afternoon as the sun was growing closer to the ocean. He was most of the way up now and was skirting around what looked like a natural deformation into a cave. The mouth of the thing was only a yard in diameter. Certainly not large enough for him. Just as he passed the opening, he heard a lot of squeaking. Shortly followed by mice scurrying out along the walls and trying to make their way down to the ledge below without falling. Then the entrance belched out hundreds of brown bats. They flew off in all directions. Deacon secured his grip and tried to flip his sphere of gravity to assist him in his climb. He had a bad feeling about this.

A fat rat all but leaped out of the cave mouth. It was certainly going to fall to its death, but a black tendril burst out and wrapped itself around the rat dragging it back into the dark. The sound of labored squeaking came just before silence. Then there was only chewing. More tendrils slapped out of the hole in all directions. Some of them had teeth jutting from their surface here and there. They all stabilized as a dragging sound could be heard.

A long segmented stalk peeked out from the hole and on the end of it was one bulbous eye. The stalk looked down. Then it looked left, then right. Finally, it looked up to see Deacon about ten feet away scrambling for a new hand hold. The eye almost squinted in disbelief.

At this point, Deacon realized he was just staring and not climbing. A few more tendrils dragged the creature further out of the hole. Another joined the first eye stalk. Then another. They all moved in time with Deacon as he continued up the cliff side. Deacon wasn’t having this, so he switched his source of power back to Nether.

“Ice in my veins.”

Deacon poured his intentions into his aura. A thin sheen of Nether ice started to coat the rocks around him. As one of the black tendrils reached up toward him it touched the ice and recoiled. There was even a high pitched keening that echoed from the hole in the wall. The eyes continued to watch Deacon as he continued up. To Deacon’s surprise he had better grip on the Nether ice coated rock around him then before. He sped up the last twenty yards to the cliff edge. Hauling himself up and over. Not content thinking he got away, Deacon peered over to see eight more eye stalks staring at him from the cave mouth a good sixty yards below him.

“Fuck off back into your hole,” Deacon yelled, only to have chill run down his spine at the response.

“You’ll be back,” said a deep gutteral inhuman voice echoing from the cave.