Die. Respawn. Repeat.

Somehow, saying the words makes them feel all the more real. There are enough inconsistencies I've uncovered between the Integrators and the Interface that I'm no longer willing to take everything it says at face value. It doesn't help that I know for a fact that not even the Integrators fully understand the purpose of the Interface—it's an object of worship for them more than it is something they control, and their limited administrative rights over it is a reflection of that.

Unlike Kauku.

The thought strikes me out of the blue, and I frown. He modified the Interface's method of rewarding Inspirations with little more than a wave of a hand. He changed at least one Durability roll so that it modified me physically rather than rewarding me with skills, and he added a message into the Interface on top of that.

Gheraa's done something similar, but he couldn't do that by default, could he? He added Temporal Echo to my Firmament rolls, and that seemed about the extent of his manipulation—he couldn't send me a message through the Interface until...

Well, until whatever he did just before he died. Whatever he did that gave me those skills. That gave Isthanok a chance.

Kauku didn't need to do any of that. It's another mark in what feels like an ever-growing list of questions about what exactly he is.

Not that any of this changes what I have to do next. Complete the stages, retrieve whatever memory it is Kauku wants from the Empty City, and then bring Gheraa back to life. The sooner I can get that done, the better—but even if the Intermediaries are repaired, I don't think I care anymore about whether the Integrators are watching.

Let them watch. There's more at play than them. Bigger actors. Kauku is proof of that, even if I don't know what his presence means yet.

"Okay," I say, letting out a breath and gathering myself. "The Interface is lying. We can deal with that later. Ahkelios—can you get the Seed?"

Ahkelios stares at me, a little nonplussed. "Are we, uh, not going to discuss the Interface lying thing?" he asks. I stare at him, mostly because I have no idea what more I'd say about it, and he raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll go get it. But for future reference, you don't get to just say things like that and not elaborate."

I chuckle. "It's more that I haven't finished putting together everything I need. We'll talk about it later. Let's just get the Seed first."

It doesn't take him much time to get it. He flies back, the glass orb clutched in his arms. I'm surprised there isn't even a scratch on it, considering the intensity of the fight with the Seedmother.

I reach out for it—

And the moment it touches my hand, it vanishes. The Interface pings me with an update.

[Seed collected. Congratulations, Heir. Ritual Stage 1 has been completed.]

[Bonus objective complete: Defeat the Seedmother without it entering its second phase! +200 Firmament credits.]

[Progressing Ritual: The Empty City to Stage 2. Be aware that the Firmament levels required for dungeon alteration are hostile to fifth-layer lifeforms and below. Evacuation is recommended.]

My eyes narrow on the notification. Fifth layer? How much Firmament is the Interface capable of usi—

Premonition activates. The danger is everywhere. Even with the skill, I don't have time to react.

Around me, Firmament roars to life, the pressure stronger than anything I've experienced before—everything I felt in the Intermediary is weak by comparison. The force of it is enough to push the breath from my lungs, to make Ahkelios vanish as his form is destabilized and he returns to shelter within my soul. He-Who-Guards collapses almost immediately onto his knees, using a single hand to stabilize himself; a choked noise emerges from his vocalizers.

I remember Miktik.

I don't hesitate. The Knight Inspiration surges back to life around me. I'm drained enough that I can't sustain the transformation for long, nor have I really recovered enough for this to be a good idea; I can already tell I'm going to pay for this later. But staying in the dungeon for anything more than a few seconds is going to be even worse.

I grab Guard, launch myself back to the top of the building with the portal, and throw us both through it and back to Hestia.

The pressure drops off almost immediately. The portal doesn't seem to allow the immense outpouring of Firmament through, a fact I'm grateful for. I can only imagine the effect it might have on anyone around the portal if it had. I place Guard gently on the ground, then turn back to it—

I blink. The portal to the Empty City is still there, but where I could see through it and into the dungeon before, it's now opaque. A golden film blocks the whole thing off. Carefully—more out of curiosity than anything else—I reach forward to poke at the film, and it remains firm beneath my touch.

I could try to break through, but that seems like a bad idea. A quick glance at the Interface more or less confirms the thought.

Stolen story; please report.

[The Empty City has been locked. Time remaining before full establishment of Ritual Stage 2: 8 hours.]

Ahkelios re-manifests as I frown at the notice, popping back up on my shoulder and shuddering.

"That felt awful," he says. He glances at the portal, then at the screen I'm reading. "Eight hours?"

"Yep," I say dryly. "I take it that's never happened to you before?"

Ahkelios looks troubled. "No," he says quietly. He stares at the portal for a long moment. "I hope..."

"What is it?" I raise an eyebrow at him, but he shakes his head.

"It's nothing," he says. He hops off my shoulder and toward Guard—the former silverwisp is still lying on the ground, his vents cycling air rapidly. I don't think he's conscious. "Is Guard okay?" ᚱ𝒶ＮǑＢĚＳ

I kneel beside him. "He's fine," I say. Nothing about his Firmament feels off. He's just unconscious, and by the looks of things, he'll be better in a minute or two. He wasn't exposed long enough to...

I sigh.

"Looks like we have some time to kill," I say. I reach out with a hand, letting Ahkelios hop up onto my palm; with a thought, I summon the key to the Empty City and twist the portal shut. "Let's wait for Guard to wake up and then see how Tarin is doing, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ahkelios says quietly.

If Rhoran had a mouth to snarl with, he would've. There was nothing here. Nothing he could attach himself to and take—everything here was too strong, too... distorted? There wasn't a word for what they were. They lacked the consistency and life that other things did, and they lacked the element of emptiness that he could otherwise take over.

Neither real nor an echo. Where even was he? He remembered vaguely going through a border. Remembered a transition from one region to another. But his senses were dull and almost meaningless when he was in this state; he'd turned himself into a parasite, into a devourer and conqueror of Firmament.

That meant nothing in a place where all Firmament was either twisted to the point of meaninglessness or too strong for him to conquer. If he could just find something small enough to take over, he could grow in strength—hop from host to host until he found someone or something that could crush the spirit of the irritating human that kept surviving his stupid Trial.

His job was supposed to be easy! The Path he'd been in charge of consisted nearly entirely of "dead" planets and civilizations; they were hosts to Trials that the Integrators had long since given up on anyone actually completing. That they had anyone overseeing them at all was more of a formality than anything else. Being assigned to these Trials was something like a vacation. Or a retirement job.

Until Gheraa, anyway. A younger upstart of an Integrator that insisted to the Upper Council that he'd find a way to complete one of these Trials—to restart a dead Path. Suddenly he had to do work, to supervise, to actually contribute his Firmament to the Interface so it could operate as intended on Hestia.

So what if he'd been a little rough with him? Gheraa needed to learn. If he hadn't been able to restart the dead Path, no one could.

Except the bastard had started rebelling.

Now here he was.

The longer Rhoran spent time as this—this parasite he'd been reduced to, the more coherent his thoughts were, at least. He wasn't quite as subject to his mind shattering again and again like it had in the beginning, and he was starting to learn more about his new form. More about what he could do.

That didn't change the situation he was in. He was a Firmament parasite in a world filled with Firmament he couldn't even touch. Everything he could sense was a realm beyond him.

Ethan was here, he could tell that much. He was fighting some enormous thing that should've killed him a hundred times over. Rhoran could even tell that it had—he sensed the stutter-stop in his environment every time things reset.

But he couldn't affect the fight. He wasn't strong enough. If there was just something he could attach himself to...

He felt his frustration reach a boil when Ethan actually defeated the creature he was fighting. This was unfair. That human hadn't even ranked highly for any kind of Firmament affinity—his base had been unstable and pathetic, and Gheraa's selection of him had been idiotic! How—

The world shook. Firmament suddenly roared around him, so intense it blinded every one of his senses. Rhoran had no mouth with which to scream, but everything he was sang with agony.

Ethan again. Had he figured him out? How had he done this? He should have been impossible to detect, even with a Firmament sense!

He tried to escape, but it was all around him. There was nowhere he could go, nowhere he could hide, but he tried anyway, darting back and forth and searching desperately for something...

There.

A small dark spot. An orb of glass that wasn't quite as saturated with heat and power, half-hidden from the world but not from him. Ethan must've missed it. He ran to it, his entire existence shaking and whimpering, and hid.

There's a presence in the crow village that makes me stop in my tracks almost as soon as I arrive. He-Who-Guards has recovered enough that he's walking alongside me, though the glow of his Firmament is weaker than usual. It'll likely take a few more hours before he's completely able to recover.

More importantly, however, is the crow that's here. The crow that definitely shouldn't be here, because he hasn't been in any past loops. It can't be anything I've done—there's no Hotspot to investigate this time, and I've spent this whole loop within the Empty City. Which means... what, that the Integrators being disconnected from the Interface triggered this?

It doesn't really matter, I suppose. I don't really have a reason to be afraid of him anymore. I stride forward—he's yelling at Tarin, because of course he is—and inject some Firmament into my voice. Just to make sure he hears me.

"Naru," I say. He jumps with a squawk that's almost identical to Tarin's. Firmament flares from him defensively, but it retracts with a snap the second it makes contact with me, and he takes an involuntary step back.

I frown. The Trials really do make things just about power, don't they?

"Tell me why you're here."

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