Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What is that? Riz Gukgak—”

Riz curses quietly, looking down at his chest. Who designs a swim shirt that goes transparent when it’s wet? He was so careful not to let his mom see his tattoos, even though the other Bad Kids were making fun of him for wearing a shirt in the pool. He doesn’t see the point in wearing it now so he strips off the useless shirt and throws it on the side of the pool.

“Clues, mom, they’re clues,” he gives her his most innocent eyes and hopes it’ll be enough to slide by without making his mom too mad.

“What does that even say on your chest?” She walks up to the edge of the pool and squints her eyes, trying to make out the words on his chest. Riz continues to tread water nervously, peeking down at his skin.

“Uh, Nightmare King crown, Garthy O’Brien, Night Yorb—”

Riz feels an uncomfortable pressure in his chest that blocks his throat entirely, keeping him from being able to speak another word. The pressure builds and builds until his chest feels as if it’s going to explode. Riz is sure that he’s about to die, that he’s going to burst into pieces in front of all of his friends, leaving nothing behind but a mist of blood to remember him by.

Instead, the tattoo in the center of his chest, just over his heart, starts to glow a pure, blinding white. It burns like acid. He feels himself begin to float into the air above the pool. It’s like a string is tied to his tattoo and it pulls taut, lifting him towards the sky. The rest of his body is limp, hanging lifelessly in the air.

The pressure in his chest begins to abate as a dark, eldritch shape emerges slowly from the tattoo. Riz feels like his body is turning inside out. It makes him feel sick and he tries to cough but his throat is still blocked up. He starts to feel his vision dim. He isn’t just unable to speak. He’s unable to breathe, as well.

With a final yank of his chest, the creature erupts from him, enormous and inky black. Riz can’t make out its shape, not with the corners of his vision starting to turn fuzzy and gray, but he’s afraid of it all the same. It speaks, though Riz can make out no obvious mouth, in a deep, gravely voice.

“You have spoken the name of the Night Yorb.” The eldritch creature spins in a circle, whipping up an intense wind and throwing dark orbs through the air that blot out the sunlight. “An age of darkness forevermore!”

It flies away and Riz’s body collapses, limp, from its magical suspension in the air. His chest still aches with pressure, preventing him from breathing. Riz thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t take in oxygen soon.

As he plummets towards the pool, Riz thinks he can hear Principal Aguefort’s voice through the rushing of blood in his ears.

“Very well. Have you Bad Kids put any thought into what your junior year project might be?”

Riz passes out the moment he hits the water.

Riz is wrapped in two towels, one around his lower body and one resting on his head. He’s pretty sure he was meant to use that one to dry his hair but he doesn’t have the energy to lift his arms over his head so it rests on the crown of his head like a wide, fluffy hood.

The other Bad Kids sit around his tiny living room, all with various levels of disbelief on their faces. Adaine looks disassociated entirely, Fig looks worried, Fabian keeps darting his eye between the other Bad Kids, looking for something. Kristen is staring in the middle distance and Gorgug is looking down at the carpet, picking at it with the tips of his fingers.

Riz feels like he’s in a dream. Maybe they never killed the Nightmare King at all and this is another one of his nightmares, sent to plague Riz with deep terror and anxiety. That would certainly make more sense than what actually happened.

And what did happen? Riz still isn’t sure.

“We should go to the library,” he says, staring a hole into the wall. He’s sitting on his couch that he can best describe as deflated. It’s been sat on so many times that its cushions are entirely concave. It’s still surprisingly comfortable when he wants something to sink into but, today, Riz wishes it could offer him a little more support. He feels deflated, himself. When the Night Yorb emerged from his chest, it turned him inside out. His body is left feeling like it’s missing something now. Like it’s hollow inside.

He wonders how long the Night Yorb had been living within his body for him to now feel like he was missing its presence inside of him.

He elects to keep his mouth shut about that feeling. There were enough worried faces surrounding him when he was pulled out of the pool. He woke up to Fabian doing chest compressions on him and his mom standing just over his shoulder, tears in her eyes.

His ribs hurt. He’s not sure if that's a residual effect of the Night Yorb or bruising from Fabian saving his life.

Either way, he aches.

“How can you think about the library at a time like this?” Fabian asks, eye shooting towards Riz.

“How can you not? We need to know what we’re facing. The best way to learn is through research, right?” He looks around for someone to agree with him. When he’s met with silence, he clenches his hands into fists. “Adaine?”

Adaine’s head snaps up. “What?”

“We should go to the library, right?”

“Hm,” she says.

She doesn’t go on.

Riz sighs. “I don’t think we should be wasting time. If no one else will come with me, I’ll walk there myself.”

“The fuck you will,” Fabian says, latching his hand around Riz’s ankle. “Your heart stopped thirty minutes ago, The Ball. You’re not walking anywhere.”

“Then you’ll drive me?” Riz asks. The corner of his mouth twitches up. He doesn’t know if Fabian intended on offering him a ride at all but, if he didn’t, Riz is happy to twist Fabian’s words to his advantage.

Fabian huffs. “I don’t know. If you pass out again on the back of the Hangman—”

“I’m not going to pass out again. The Night Yorb did that to me. He’s not inside me anymore—I can tell—so he can’t fuck with my body like that again. I can hold on, Fabian. I won’t fall off, I promise.”

Fabian looks down at Riz’s shoe and taps his fingers together on his left hand. “You swear?”

“I swear.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you to the library.”

Riz smiles. His cheeks hurt from the effort. His entire body hurts, really. He feels like he’s been run over by a truck without the bruises to show for it. He flexes the fingers on both of his hands, making sure that he has the grip strength to make it through a ride on the Hangman. He thinks he’ll be fine. His body just aches. It’s like his muscles are rebelling against him, screaming in pain to tell him something is wrong.

Shouldn’t he feel better without the Night Yorb in his chest?

Riz lets Fabian pull him to his feet, too weak to protest against the extra help offered.

“What are the rest of you going to do?” He asks as he pulls on clothes directly over his swim shorts and damp skin.

He’s met with silence. After ten long seconds without answers, Gorgug takes pity on him to offer a half-answer. “Think about stuff, I guess.”

“Right,” Riz replies. “Think about stuff and, uh, let me know if you come to any conclusions. Anything to help narrow down my research should help.”

He tries to catch Kristen or Fig’s eyes to make sure they heard him but they seem as unresponsive as Adaine is.

He knows shock when he sees it. He just wishes his friends could push through and help him start making a plan on how to fix things.

It’s fine. He’s a Gukgak. He can do it himself.

Riz has to sit on the steps of the library for almost fifteen minutes after the motorcycle ride, chasing off nausea and dizziness. He’s never gotten carsick on the Hangman before. He can’t think of any explanation other than the Night Yorb’s extraction affecting his nervous system, somehow.

Fabian hovers over him. It’s annoying.

It’s nice of him.

After his vision stops spinning and his stomach stops rebelling, he pushes himself to his feet and walks inside the library.

“What are we looking for?” Fabian asks. Riz is surprised that he’s willing to help. He expected Fabian to find the most comfortable chair in the library and kick back while Riz did all the studying, like he usually does on research days, but, today, he stands by Riz’s side and waits for instructions.

“Anything on the Night Yorb. Or darkness-affecting entities. Eldritch beings that are made out of, uh—what would you describe it as?”

“Black goop,” Fabian answers.

“I don’t think the books will use that same terminology but something along those lines, yeah.”

“And beasts shaped like manta rays?”

“What?” Riz snaps his head to Fabian.

“You didn’t see? It was shaped like a manta ray.”

Riz flexes his jaw. “I didn’t have a great view of the thing, seeing as it was sort of bursting out of my chest at the time,” he hisses.

Fabian takes a step back. “Yeah, uh, that’s fair. But trust me. I know fish and this one looked like a manta ray.”

“You think it’s a fish?”

“No, I don’t think it’s a fish,” Fabian says, rolling his eye. “I’m just saying that it looked like one.”

Riz chews on his lip. “Okay. Manta rays, entities made of goop, eternal darkness curses on the land, anything that uses the word Night Yorb. That’s a lot to look for.”

“I’m on it, The Ball. Would you listen if I told you to sit down and let me bring you some books?”

Riz feels weak on his feet. The pain in his muscles burns more now that he’s standing and walking around. He’s desperate to sit down, to take a load off.

“No. I wouldn’t,” he says, instead. “It’ll go faster if we both look.”

He won’t take it easy just because he’s hurting. Pain is nothing but his body telling him to rest. He can just as easily tell that part of his body to fuck off. He’ll push through.

He always does.

Riz’s crystal rings and he fumbles for it in his pocket, having forgotten to put it on silent when he got to the library. He can see the other patrons glaring at him as the ringer goes off, the sound of an old, analog crystal’s ringtone echoing through the building.

“Sorry,” he whispers, making eye contact with an old man who meets him with a dirty glare. “My bad.”

Riz leaps to his feet, intending to take the crystal call outside. He immediately sinks back down into his seat when he gets the worst blood rush he’s ever felt, vision instantly going black. He answers the crystal anyway and just resigns himself to whispering.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“Hon? Are you okay?”

His mom’s voice is thick with concern. Riz realizes he should’ve told her he was going to the library before he left. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m at the library with Fabian. We’re just doing some research on the Night Yorb.”

“I know that, kid. Your friends told me after you left. I called because it’s been five hours and you’re still not home.”

Riz’s eyebrows shoot up his face and he pulls his crystal away from his face to look at the time. It has been five hours. Riz had no idea that they’d been here so long. He looks at the stack of books on the table, piles of research tomes, textbooks, and encyclopedias, and realizes how lost he had gotten in his studies.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t realize. I’m still, uh—I’m still working the problem, though. I don’t think I can come home yet.”

“Have you eaten, hon? Have you gotten up to stretch your legs?”

Riz thinks about having to use his muscles to take a lap around the library and cringes. He’ll stay right where he is. It’s a strategic choice, he thinks, to conserve energy. Plus, he doesn’t have time to take a walk, not when there’s a dozen books on his table to work through.

He looks at Fabian on the other side of the table, head pillowed on his arms, idly flipping through a book titled On the Study of Eldritch Horrors. He looks about ready to fall asleep. Riz wonders if he should feel tired, too.

“Uh, yeah, mom. We ate. We walked. We’re all good.” He’s glad that his mom can’t see his face. He’s never been particularly good at lying to her. It’s much easier to get away with the Deception over the crystal.

“Oh, that’s good, honey. I was worried that you were just holed up in there, getting lost in the pages of a book.”

Riz slams shut the cover of The Dark Origin of Aquatic Beasts, a 450 page long encyclopedia that, somehow, lacks a table of contents. He thumbed through every page to find the manta ray section and got absolutely nothing useful for his efforts. “No, mom. I’m being responsible.”

His mom lowers her voice. “If you were responsible, you wouldn’t have gotten all of those tattoos in the first place,” she mutters. “But I suppose there’s bigger things to worry about now. Fabian can take you home when the two of you are done, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Riz asserts without asking Fabian first. “I’ll be fine, mom. Stop worrying.”

“Honey, the entire world plunged into darkness less than twenty-four hours ago. I’m gonna worry.”

Riz sucks air in through his teeth. “That’s fair. Listen, mom, I gotta go. Lots of books to get through, okay? I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Riz. Take care of yourself.”

Riz nods and hangs up the crystal. He looks over at Fabian who looks back at him, hand still flipping through the pages of his book. “The Ball? Are you ready to head back?”

“No, no. I think… I think this is gonna be an all-nighter.”

Fabian takes in a deep breath and sighs. “Of course it is. I’ll go get some energy drinks from the vending machine.”

“Thanks, man,” Riz smiles and takes Fabian’s book out from under his arm. He appreciates Fabian’s help, really, he does. It’s just that he doesn’t necessarily trust him to do a thorough job. And if he wants a job done well, he’ll have to do it himself.

Four days later, Riz begins to think that he made a mistake somewhere along the way.

“I should’ve slept,” he says to himself.

Adaine clicks her tongue. “You should sleep, Riz.”

Riz had forgotten she was in the room with him. What room was he in? There’s a bunk bed, an orange, white, and blue flag on the wall, and a terrarium with an exceptionally round frog in it. That’s right, it’s Adaine’s room. Why was he in Adaine’s room again?

“No, I should’ve slept. It’s too late now. I think my body forgot how.”

“Riz, you’re running on four levels of exhaustion right now. Your brain isn’t working properly, that’s all. It’s making you think things that aren’t true. I promise that if you lay down and close your eyes, you’ll be able to fall asleep. I swear.”

“No, no,” Riz says, slowly raising his hand to wave her away. He feels like he’s moving at half-speed, pushing through thick molasses just to lift his arm.

His chest still hurts and his muscles ache like they did the day that the Night Yorb was released. If anything, the pain has gotten worse over time. Riz knows that getting some rest and letting his body heal should be on his list of priorities but somehow, it keeps getting pushed back.

Besides, when the sun never sets and never rises, it’s hard to know when to sleep and when to wake up. Some part of Riz just decided, somewhere along the way, that it would be easier not to sleep at all.

“Yes, Riz. Go to sleep. The books will still be here when you wake up.”

“No, the Night Yorb will still be here when I wake up if I don’t do something about it first,” he insists. “I have to figure out what it is and how to deal with it. I have to find a way to fix things.”

Adaine tilts her head at him and her eyes soften, sadness reflecting off of them. “Riz, this isn’t your fault, you know?”

Riz looks away.

He slowly pushes himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his fists as he does. “Listen, I have a theory,” he says, changing the subject. “This Night Yorb is made of darkness, right? So we’ve been focusing on researching dark and night energy. But I think we should maybe switch focus and start researching light and sun energy, right? Maybe it’s like in those video games that Kristen keeps trying to convince us to play where using the opposite damage type will be more effective. If we can learn about how to harness the power of the sun, maybe we can use it against this thing.”

“Riz, there’s no more sun to harness the power from.”

Riz looks out the window and remembers that it’s not just nighttime that’s casting the room in darkness. It’s eternal nighttime.

“Right. My bad.”

“It’s a good idea, though, in theory. We can send the others to the library to pick up some more books about light energy.” She picks up her crystal and unlocks the screen with a swipe of her thumb.

“No, no,” Riz interrupts. “I got it. There’s a few other books I want to pick up, too. I’ll go there myself.”

“Riz, you need to sleep. You’re not going anywhere when you’re this exhausted.”

Maybe it’s the irritability that comes from lack of sleep or maybe it’s pure Gukgak stubbornness at play but when Adaine says that, Riz can reply with nothing but, “try and stop me.”

He’s not proud of the way that he storms out of her room and slams the door, but he doesn’t have it in him to be mature in this moment. He’s so tired that he’s been reduced down to his most base instincts and one of them appears to be anger.

Who was she to tell him what he can and cannot do? She doesn’t understand, he thinks. It is his fault that the Night Yorb was released. Which means he has to be the one to fix it. A little sleep deprivation is nothing.

There’s a solid mass of guilt that made its home permanently in his throat, constantly choking him, that he thinks would keep him awake, even if he tried to fall asleep.

Riz decides it’s easier not to try.

Riz’s office is eerily quiet. The silence begins to ring in his ears, making his brain vibrate painfully. He just needs to get rid of the sensation. The silence is too loud, it’s too loud.

Riz drops his head to the table and lets it hit the hard wooden surface. The impact resonates through his head, somehow neutralizing the painful silence. He tries it again, hoping for more of the same relief. It helps. The pain helps.

Riz slams his head against the desk again and again.

The blooming ache that originates on his forehead spreads throughout his body in a warm, pleasant heat. He’s more awake than he’s been in days. He feels calm.

Riz keeps slamming his head until his eyes start to go unfocused. Then he slams it a few more times.

Sophomore year grades come in.

“Hey, man, are you alright?” Gorgug asks, holding a gentle hand on Riz’s shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”

Riz is well aware. He tries not to use mirrors but every once in a while he’ll catch his reflection in one and get startled by what he sees.

The skin under his eyes looks thin, letting dark blue show from underneath it. He has deep circles there, an obvious sign of his lack of sleep. His hair is overgrown and messy; he can’t remember the last time he went at it with a comb. And there’s a permanent bruise in the center of his forehead. The others have asked what it’s from but all Riz can say is “I don’t know, maybe it’s an aftereffect of the Night Yorb’s emergence. You know, I just read that—” and then ramble until they stop looking at him curiously.

“I’m fine,” Riz says, because there’s no other way to respond to that particular question. He very pointedly does not think about his transcript, printed out and mailed to him with his final GPA in big, black font. He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about it.

“You look upset, dude. Do you maybe want to talk about anything?”

Riz scowls. If he already looks upset, he might as well go the whole way. “I said I’m fine, Gorgug. So, drop it.”

Gorgug holds his palms up in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t mean, uh—I’m sorry. I should’ve just said that I’m here if you need help. Maybe with the research or with anything else that you might need a friend for. That’s all.”

Riz feels stifled, like he can’t breathe properly. He needs to not be here right now. He spins on his heels and starts to storm out of the study room in the library. “I have to go.”

“You forgot this,” Gorgug calls out. Turning around, Riz sees Gorgug holding his transcript. He charges back in and snatches it out of Gorgug’s hand, tracking his eyes to see if he managed to read the words on the page.

“Thanks,” Riz mutters, voice low. He scurries out of the room, fist clenched tightly around the paper.

Once he’s a safe distance away, he looks down at the piece of white paper, black font. He looks at it and prays that the number on it has changed.

It hasn’t.

Riz’s heart sinks as he looks at the bold text that reads 3.89 GPA.

He feels sick. How can it be that he tried as hard as he could, inhumanly hard, and that’s all he could manage? He doesn’t think it would be possible to work any more diligently than he did in his sophomore year yet he ended up so far away from a 4.0 GPA.

He’s sure that any other Bad Kid would be thrilled with his grades but he’s not any other Bad Kid. He’s Riz Gukgak. A nerd, a high-achiever, a hard-working kid who didn’t miss a single day of school, didn’t skip a single assignment. He had study guides and extra credit work and flash cards that could span miles. He worked harder than any other student at Aguefort and yet: 3.89 GPA.

Riz doesn’t know whether to scream, cry, or curl up and die.

He’s running on fumes, carrying around his own body around like a corpse. He switched to sneakers last week because his usual oxfords were getting scuffed from the way he was dragging his feet. He switched to jeans and tee shirts, too. It took too long to launder, iron, and dress in his usual suits. He doesn’t have the time.

He has to figure out what to do about the Night Yorb before it’s too late.

Which would be easier to do if he wasn’t actively breaking down about his grades.

“Riz, wait,” Gorgug says, running out of the library and catching up with Riz on the steps. He’s carrying three of the books that Riz was in the middle of reading. Riz eyes the books, wanting to take them home with him but not wanting to admit that he had forgotten to grab them on his way out.

“What?” Riz asks, sighing. Fatigue presses down on him like a weighted blanket over his shoulders.

“Let me drive you home.”

Gorgug’s eyes are a mixture between sad, kind, and worried. Riz hates when people look at him like that. It’s too close to pity.

“Can I have those?” Riz asks, gesturing for the books.

Gorgug hands them down to him. “Of course. I parked around the corner, so just—”

“I’ll walk,” Riz says and he turns away from his friend.

It’s a long, long walk home, made harder with the three heavy books that he’s holding. He has to take two breaks just to sit down on the dirty concrete and breathe. It’s embarrassing. Riz wishes he were stronger, wishes he could handle things better.

Wishes he didn’t have a 3.89 GPA.

Riz pushes himself to his feet and puts one foot in front of the other.

He pretends like he can’t see the Hangvan following him home.

“We’re worried about him,” Adaine says.

Jawbone nods slowly and leans back on his desk. Five of his students sit in front of him, squeezed onto the couch that was made to fit three. “What has you concerned?” He asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. He has to ask, has to let the students guide themselves to the right answer.

“He’s not sleeping,” Fig says, eyes desperate. “Like, at all. I don’t know how he’s alive. In Self-Care class, Miss Latonia says that five days without sleep will kill a person but I swear he’s gone more than that.”

“Miss Latonia is right. If you don’t sleep at all for five straight days, you will die. It’s called fatal insomnia,” Jawbone explains. He doesn’t want to scare the kids but he needs them to be properly informed for their own health. “So he must be getting an hour or two in when you’re not with him.”

“An hour or two every five days isn’t enough,” Fig insists. “You should see him. He looks like a zombie. He doesn’t look like Riz anymore.”

“I get that, I do,” Jawbone says, pouring as much assurance into his words as he can. “That must be really scary for you to have to watch.”

“We don’t want to watch,” Gorgug says. “We want to help. Any of us would do anything to help him but he won’t let us.”

“And it’s getting worse. The Ball has been holing up in his office and not answering the door when we knock. He won’t hang out with us, which I get, but he also won’t let us help him with his work.”

“It’s all work, with him. I think, uh—Jawbone, I think…” Adaine trails off.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I think he’s using work as a form of self-harm.”

A tense silence fills the room. Jawbone blows out a long, slow breath. “Damn, kid, that’s something. Do you—”

“I swear, Jawbone, he is. He’s working so hard but it’s at the expense of his health. He looks sicker and sicker every day but he refuses to do anything about it. He’s doing all this work, and obviously it’s important stuff, but he hasn’t taken a single day off since the Emergence. I think he thinks there’s no other option. I think he thinks it’s this or nothing but he doesn’t—”

“He doesn’t realize that we want to help him. That he would be better off with our help,” Fig finishes Adaine’s sentence for her as tears fill Adaine’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Adaine adds, voice cracking. “Exactly.”

“I can only speak for myself but I’d rather buckle down and do a whole day’s worth of work if it meant that The Ball could take even just an hour break.”

“I think that’s true of all of us,” Gorgug says, putting his hand around Adaine and squeezing her into his side. Jawbone nods, glad that someone can give his kid a hug in this moment.

“Definitely,” Kristen adds.

“Have you told him that?” Jawbone asks. “Does he know?”

“He won’t give us a chance!” Fig says, voice raising, high-pitched and angry. “If he sees one of us, he refuses to talk about anything but the Night Yorb and if we try to change the subject, he literally turns around and goes the other way, talking about ‘needing to get some work done.’”

“Work, work, work,” Kristen mumbles. “It’s like he’s a shell of his old self. All he can think about is the work. I miss Riz.”

“I miss him, too.”

Jawbone sighs. “That sounds really tough, kids. You’re all really worried about him but he refuses to listen when you tell him that, huh?” He hums, wondering if he should suggest what he really wants to suggest. It might be a bit unethical, sure, but he’s a staff member of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. A lack of ethics is practically part of the job description. “Have you considered—”

“What the fuck, Adaine?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Riz. I really am, but you gave us no other choice.” Her hands swirl in front of her as she focuses on the casting of Imprisonment. She holds a small metal chain in her hands, a spell component, and twists it around a tiny carved statuette in the shape of Riz.

In front of her, the real Riz is wrapped in arcane chains that pull tight and prevent him from moving his arms or legs. With a final chant of the incantation, Adaine puts the statuette down and takes in a deep breath. She summons Boggy to her hands, hoping that his comfort can help absolve her guilt of putting one of her best friends in an arcane trap.

“Hey, dude,” Kristen says, dropping down onto the couch in Riz’s apartment. “How’s it going?”

Riz hisses at her, looking as feral as Adaine has ever seen him. She flinches back.

“Not good, huh?” Kristen continues. Adaine wants to yell at her to stop, to approach things more delicately, but she was the one who just tied Riz up in an inescapable trap so she isn’t exactly one to talk.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Riz growls.

“We’re worried about you,” Fig says, sitting on the arm of the couch.

Fabian lets go of Riz, having been the one to hold him in place while the spell took effect. He awkwardly walks halfway out of the room and cranes his neck to check on Gorgug who’s trying to put the door back on its hinges after kicking it in.

Riz hadn’t let them inside his apartment. He hasn’t in two weeks, now, so they did what they had to do.

“I’m fine,” Riz says and it sounds like a lyric in a song that Adaine has heard a hundred times. It’s played over and over, to the point where she easily could’ve delivered the line in the exact same way, with the exact same intonation as Riz. He’s fine, he always says. Fine.

It makes Adaine crazy. She squeezes Boggy harder.

She knows what fine looks like on Riz and it’s not this. Wild hair, wild eyes, wild snarl on his face. He’s not fine and she’s not sure the last time that he was.

“Riz, you’ve been different since the Emergence,” Adaine says carefully. “We just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“That you haven’t been cursed or possessed, or something,” Kristen says. Adaine tilts her head to the side. That’s not quite what she’s worried about but she supposes it could be what’s going on. “Can I cast on you?” She asks.

“You didn’t fucking ask permission before Imprisoning me,” Riz retorts. “Why do I get a say now? What happens if I say no?”

“Riz, please,” Adaine entreats. “Please let us help you.”

“Help? Who said I needed help?”

“The Ball, it’s—it’s obvious. The fact that you can’t see it is a, uh, a really bad sign, man.”

Riz rips his head back and forth, the only part of his body he can move and growls. Adaine wants to stop him, wants to put her hand on his head to still it before he hurts himself, but she’s scared of getting close.

She’s scared of Riz.

He’s not who she knows him to be.

“You need to take a break, Riz,” Fig says. “You need to stop working so much.”

Riz slams his head forward on the thick chains that wrap around his chest. The echoing slam reverberates in Adaine’s body. “Riz!”

Riz repeats the motion, slamming his head into the chains again.

Gorgug comes running from the front door of Riz’s apartment and puts his hand in between Riz’s forehead and the chain. “Bud—”

“Please,” Riz begs. “Please, let me. It helps.” His voice is a whisper. “It helps.”

Adaine could cry if she didn’t feel so disconnected from what was happening around her. It was unreal. She Imprisoned her friend. He started hurting himself in front of her. It’s not real; it can’t be. How did things come to this?

Gorgug tips Riz’s head back up and brushes his hair out of his face so he can see. Fabian clenches his fists next to him like he’s a second from jumping into action. To do what, Adaine isn’t sure.

“Riz. Something needs to change.” Fig drums her fingers on her thighs nervously. “You’re going to let us help you get better because we can’t stand to see you this way. It’s terrifying, man. You’re scaring the shit out of us and it’s not fair.”

“Yeah, man,” Kristen says, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “You’re gonna change what you’re doing and we’re not taking no for an answer. It sucks that we had to lock you up and we’re sorry about that but you’ve proved that—”

“—that you weren’t going to change without drastic measures,” Fig finishes. “So you’re going to stop working so much, you’re going to let us help you, and you’re going to get more sleep. Those are our demands and, I’m sorry, but—”

“—we’re not going to let you out until you agree to all three of them.” Kristen nods tensely at Fig. Adaine is proud of them for delivering the script that the five Bad Kids had written before breaking into Riz’s apartment. They did a good job. Now, it was just a matter of seeing if the approach works.

“I can’t stop,” Riz says. “I can’t stop. I have to keep working. I have to do it until we kill the Night Yorb. If I stop, then I’m a bad person, don’t you see that? I released the Night Yorb so I’m responsible for it. Anyone who gets hurt or dies because of this age of darkness, that’s on my hands. If I don’t do something about it… If I don’t fix it…”

Riz’s eyes start to drift shut. Adaine jerks upright and reaches a hand out for him. She lunges forward.

“I think he’s just drifting off,” Gorgug says. “I think this is probably how he doesn’t die from sleep deprivation.”

Riz’s head snaps back up and he looks around him. He tries to thrash but only his head is free to move. “Guys,” he says, voice low and pleading, “please let me out. I have w—”

“Work to do?” Fabian asks. “Fuck that.”

“Riz, I’m sorry but... We need to have a more productive conversation with you and you’re not clear headed right now.”

Adaine nods at Kristen, cueing plan B. Kristen stamps her staff into the ground and a cloud of purple magic comes out of the tip of it. It flies towards Riz and settles over his head. He sneezes.

“No curses on him,” Kristen says after the Remove Curse spell fizzles out. “Step two?”

Adaine nods.

“We’ll talk in a few hours, Riz. This is for your own good.”

Riz hisses again. It’s like his body is instinctually reacting to being stuck in a trap and it’s returning to its base, goblinoid instincts. Adaine feels terrible about it but she steps forward, lowers Riz’s eyelids with her fingers, and casts Sleep on him.

The hissing stops all at once and the room falls into silence. No one moves, least of all Riz who is completely limp in his chains.

Adaine looks at the other Bad Kids in the eyes and sees a similar level of guilt on each of their faces.

“That sucked,” Kristen blurts out. “Fuckin’ hells.”

Fig nods and sighs so loudly that Adaine could swear it echoed in the quiet apartment.

“Gorgug, help me lie him down. Please,” Adaine asks, trying to tip Riz over onto the couch with the arcane chains still around his body. She’s sure it’s not comfortable, being constrained, but it’s better than sleeping upright, at the very least.

Fabian rocks back and forth on his heels in Adaine’s peripheral vision.

“Maybe he’ll be more agreeable when he wakes up,” he offers.

Riz, in his last conscious moment, when he realized that Sleep was about to be cast on him, figured that he would be waking up fuming.

He hates the feeling of the Sleep spell. It only lasts sixty seconds but, when used on a sleep deprived target, it often lulls the body into a full, true sleep after the spell effect runs out.

As a permanently sleep deprived person, a Sleep spell can really ruin Riz’s day.

But, for some reason, this time, he woke up without anger on the tip of his tongue or frustration pricking his fingertips. He woke up feeling… alright.

It was a strange feeling.

His body feels entirely unfamiliar. Is this really how heavy his limbs feel? Is this how his mouth usually tastes? Is this what his hair feels like as it tickles the back of his neck? Is this what his muscles feel like when they ache?

He didn’t realize how long it had been since he felt these bodily sensations until they came back all at once.

He blinks slowly, adjusting to the strange feelings.

“The Ball?”

“Fabian, I,” Riz coughs. “What’s going on?”

Fabian is sitting on a kitchen chair that’s been dragged into Riz’s bedroom. When, exactly, Riz made it to his bed, he wasn’t sure, but he was comfortably laying on its lumpy surface. He keeps his head on the pillow. It feels too heavy to move. An ache comes from the center of his forehead and he lifts a hand up to touch it. There’s a welt there, swollen and painful to the touch.

“Careful,” Fabian says quietly. “I tried healing you but I think all the healing energy went to sleep deprivation symptoms, not injuries, and I’m out of slots now. Sorry.”

Riz clears his throat. “It’s fine. The pain hel—”

“Helps. You said that.” Fabian takes a deep breath in and lets it out in a huff. “Helps with what, Riz?”

Riz almost flinches at the sound of his name from Fabian’s mouth. He disguises the twitch of his muscles by shoving himself upright and repositioning his pillows so he can sit up. “It helps me focus.”

Fabian presses his lips together. “Okay,” he says. “That sucks, though. You get that, right? You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself to focus better.”

“Coffee can only do so much. Sometimes, I need a little more help.”

Fabian huffs. “Maybe you could focus better if you slept a little more.”

“Gods, Fabian, I’m f—”

“Fine. Yeah. So we’ve heard.” Fabian huffs. “The Ball, I don’t—I don’t know how to have this conversation with you. I’m not the right person for it, I don’t think.”

“Then why are you here?” Riz bites back.

“It’s my shift,” Fabian shrugs.

Riz pulls in on himself. The Bad Kids were taking shifts to watch him sleep. Knowing that, he can’t help but feel infantilized. He wants to lash out, wants to tell Fabian to get lost, but some small part of him feels… comforted by that knowledge. They put him to sleep, sure, but they also made sure that he wouldn’t wake up alone.

He bites his tongue, holding back the irritable response that his instincts tell him to make. Instead, he takes a breath and says, “I don’t want to sleep, Fabian.”

Fabian sighs. “Yeah, man. I can tell. It’s stressing me out.”

Riz laughs humorlessly. “By proxy?” Riz watches Fabian nod. “Hah.”

“It’s not funny, The Ball.”

“None of this is funny, man. It’s serious. It’s the apocalypse, Fabian. I can’t just sleep when there’s some lesser god or beast or something out there, causing an, an, uh, an age of endless night or whatever it said. I can’t just sit back and let it happen. I have to fix things.”

“I’m not arguing with that. The others might but I agree with you. Things need to be fixed. But not by you.” Riz scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “By us.”

Riz deflates. “Oh.”

“I’m not going to stop you from doing research. I don’t think any of us will. We just want to take a bit of the burden off your plate. If you can trust us—and I think you do—then you can give us a portion of your work and you can use that time to get some rest. If for no other reason than so that you can be fully rested, letting you work even harder the next day.” Fabian smiles. Riz can tell that he knows he has a winning argument in his hands. Appealing to Riz’s overachievement is a surefire way to Persuade him of something. “Like the first day, The Ball. Let me drive you to the library. Let me grab you books. Let me even flip through a few, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

“But—”

“Stop pushing us away, Riz. We’re a party. That means we’re here for each other. Even in an apocalypse.”

Riz sighs, deep and long. “Fabian,” he starts, but he doesn’t know where he is going. He clicks his tongue and rubs his forehead again. He wishes that there wasn’t a pulsing pain going through his head right now. Maybe it helps him focus on his work but… but it doesn’t feel very good. Riz almost laughs at what a silly, basic thought that is but it makes itself heard in his brain anyway. Pain doesn’t feel that good. He wishes for a different sensation. “Okay,” he gives in. “Okay, fine. I can let you help.”

Fabian’s face explodes into a smile that reaches from ear to pointed ear. “Hell yeah, The Ball. We’re going to be the best research team this realm has ever seen.”

“You’re going to fall asleep in your books,” Riz counters.

“Maybe,” Fabian says, still smiling. “But I promise I’ll get work done first. And then, we can both fall asleep in our books for a bit. It’ll make for a good balance of work and rest, yeah?”

Riz laughs, letting himself smile, too. “Yeah.”

“I think we should go to the Mountains of Chaos, next,” Riz declares, slamming shut his atlas.

“I was thinking the Swamps of Ruin.” Adaine drums her pencil on the tome in front of her with information about the creatures that live in swamps and marshes. “I bet that we can find some creatures of the night there. Things that live and thrive in darkness would probably get along well with the Night Yorb.”

Riz’s chest itches. He scratches at it with sharp claws.

“That’s not much of a lead, Adaine,” he says.

“Why do you want to go to the Mountains, then?”

Riz clenches his teeth together. He doesn’t have a great pitch, admittedly. “We have allies there with years of oral history that wouldn’t be found in libraries. They might know something about the Night Yorb that we wouldn’t be able to learn otherwise.” Riz itches at his chest again.

“Allies?” Gorgug asks. “What do you mean?”

“My family. Extended,” Riz explains.

“Oh, shit, a goblin horde?” Fig exclaims and Riz shushes her before the librarian can kick them out. “That’s sick, dude. I wanna meet a goblin horde.”

Riz nods. “Yeah, goblins who live in the Mountains are great at keeping history alive through stories, guys. They could know something about the Night Yor—” Riz coughs, interrupting himself. “They might be able to help. Or at least guide us to some answers, even if they don’t know about the Night Yorb, itself,” Riz coughs again, dissolving into a fit. “Sorry, gods.” He tries to clear his throat but it’s like his chest is blocked up with packing peanuts. It feels stuffy and overfilled.

“There might be locals in the Swamps with information, too,” Adaine suggests. “It’s not a bad idea to go there, either.”

“I never said it was a bad idea.” Riz reaches for his coffee but Fig uses Sleight of Hand to switch it out with a water bottle. Riz sighs and drinks from the water instead, trying to clear the sensation in his chest. “I just think the Mountains of Chaos is a better one.”

“Or we could split up,” Kristen offers. “Half of us go to the Mountains, half to the Swamps.”

“I don’t love the idea of being separated,” Fabian says hesitantly. “What if one of the groups runs into the Night Yorb and they’re missing their healer or tank or something?”

Riz hacks painfully. He tries to muffle the sound in his elbow but it reverberates through his chest and echoes in the quiet library.

“We need to stop saying its name,” Gorgug says, voice as assertive as Riz has ever heard it. “Something’s happening when we say it.”

Riz’s ears perk up with attention as he goes back through the past five minutes, playing them back in his head. He hears each instance of the use of the Night Yorb’s name and hears himself cough each time. The pressure in his chest is focused around his Night Yorb tattoo. Of course. The Hangvan and Hangman warned them not to say its name, but here the six of them were, saying it over and over again.

“Shit, I should’ve realized.” Riz starts to lower his head towards the table by instinct, wanting the grounding sensation of pain. His forehead is caught by Fabian’s hand who quickly puts his head back in place and lowers his hand before anyone else at the table can catch the motion. He turns to Riz with a worried look in his eye but averts his gaze before long.

Riz’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He told Fabian that he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore and he was already failing at his promise. He didn’t even know where the urge came from, just that he felt like he made an error, and his body wanted instantaneous pain to make up for the mistake.

Why his brain worked like that, he wasn’t sure. He shakes off the thoughts, wondering if he can go the rest of his life not thinking about it or if this is one of those things that will haunt him until he faces it.

He nods his thanks to Fabian who’s still watching him out of the corner of his eye. Fabian nods back, almost imperceptible.

“Let’s just call it the Thing, from now on,” Kristen offers. “Keep it simple.”

“Okay,” Riz agrees quickly. “Who wants to look for more information about the Thing in the Mountains of Chaos? And who wants to go to the Swamps of Ruin?”

“I vote Mountains. The swamps sound gross.”

“We’ll probably end up going to both at some point, Fabian,” Adaine says. “It’s just a matter of which will be our first stop.”

“I still vote Mountains.”

“Me too,” Riz replies.

“I wanna meet Riz’s relatives,” Fig says.

“That’s three votes for the Mountains. I vote Swamp but if one more person picks Mountains then that’s where we’ll go.”

“Sorry, Adaine,” Gorgug says, eyes apologetic. “I think it’s a good idea to get another form of information. The goblin’s oral history sounds like a good potential lead to me. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Gorgug. I’m not offended, guys. Mountains, it is. Should we head out in the morning?”

“It’s going to be a long trip, right? I need more time to pack than a single night,” Fabian asserts. “Let’s go the day after tomorrow.”

Riz nods. It’ll give him enough time to pick out the books he wants to bring and finish reading the ones he’ll leave behind. “Sounds good to me.”

“Then we have a little extra time, huh?” Kristen asks. “We’re going bowling tonight.”

“What?”

“I’m so serious. I mean, how does Elmville have a bowling alley that we’ve never been to before? That’s crazy! And if we all die in this Thing’s apocalypse, I don’t want to die having never gone bowling.”

The Bad Kids laugh, breaking a tension that’s hung in the air over their library table for hours.

“Sure, Kristen,” Fig says, smile growing. “Let’s go bowling.”

It’s the best day Riz has had since before the Emergence.

He’s well rested, somehow, after being forced to sleep the night before, so even as the clock starts to pass ten, then eleven, then twelve, he feels awake, alive, and happy. Thank the gods for twenty-four hour bowling alleys, he thinks, as 1:00 A.M. passes.

“If I get a strike, you’re buying me a banana split.”

“What are you going to do with a banana split, Kristen? You’re allergic to bananas.” Adaine laughs lightly, having just done a victory dance to celebrate her spare that took her to the top of the leaderboard. With just Kristen left, the only way for her to win would be with a strike.

Kristen whines. “Don’t remind me! I’ve always wanted to try one. We have healers in the party, just let a girl eat a banana split and then bring her back to life afterwards, alright?”

Riz laughs. “That’s the silliest use of healing spells I’ve ever heard,” he declares. “I love it.”

Kristen beams and turns around. She picks up an eight pound, dark purple ball from the ball return and lines up her shot. With a step back, one leg crossed behind the other, she winds up and lets the ball go flying.

Riz pretends not to notice the Mage Hand that slightly adjusts the ball, perfectly aligning it with the center pin.

With a huge cheer, the Bad Kids celebrate Kristen’s strike and Riz goes running over to the food window to order her a banana split.

It’s the best he’s felt in ages, watching her grin through whip cream and Neapolitan ice cream, pure joy on her face. It reminds him what he’s doing all of this work for.

And it reminds him about the important moments in between the work.

He tells himself not to forget about those moments.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think I’m claustrophobic but I do think this would be a really bad time to discover that I’m wrong,” Kristen says, voice tight. Riz can hear under the joking tone that she’s genuinely uneasy. He frowns. It’s just a few tunnels. He doesn’t see what the big deal is.

He turns around to face her. Ah, he thinks. He forgets that not everyone is four feet tall.

Kristen had a bit of a growth spurt recently and is almost as tall as Fabian now. She’s walking hunched over with her head tilted to the side so that she can fit in the narrow tunnels. Riz cringes for her neck, knowing it’ll be aching soon enough if she stays in that position.

“The horde’s main cavern should be taller than this,” Riz says. “We just have to… find it.”

“You’re sure we’re in the right place, The Ball?”

Riz turns back around so Fabian can’t see the doubt on his face. He thought he was leading his friends to the right set of mountainous tunnels that would take them to his grandparents’ horde but now that he was inside, he is finding that nothing looks all that familiar.

He hasn’t visited since he was in elementary school and things look different now. Rockslides have closed off parts of the system of tunnels that he was sure used to be open, rocks had shifted around, opening other parts that he was unfamiliar with, and overall, things weren’t piquing his memory in the way that he hoped they would.

“Sure,” he says, high-pitched. “They’re right around the corner.”

“We have to stop,” Gorgug says. “We can’t go any further tonight.”

Riz curses under his breath. He’s been leading the Bad Kids in circles around these tunnels and has nothing to show for it but blisters on his feet. “Yeah, okay.”

“Let’s go in that little cove that only had one entrance,” Adaine suggests. “So we only have to set up our watch in one direction.”

“Plus, it was cute,” Fig adds, sounding exhausted. With her tall horns, she’s had to stay hunched over so far that Riz genuinely fears for the wellbeing of her spine. He suspects a lot of chiropractics will be needed after this trip. “I liked the little waterfall.”

Riz nods and starts leading them back towards the small cavern with a waterfall trickling down the side into a narrow pool of water. It’s only just deep enough to dip their hands in for a sip of water. Adaine protests, citing the dangers of unknown waters but Riz has already swallowed. He shrugs. He remembers drinking the water from this cave system as a kid. Sometimes, historic knowledge is more useful than modern advice.

“I’ll take first watch.” Riz opens up his briefcase and hands everyone their bedrolls.

“Do we even need a watch?” Fig asks. “Let’s just roll one of these boulders in front of the entrance and block ourselves in. That way we can get out of here faster—”

“And get back to wandering the same three tunnels over and over again?” Fabian asks, rolling his eye.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Riz bites back. “If you want to take the lead, be my guest.”

“The Ball, we’re all relying on you here. None of us have been anywhere near these mountains, let alone inside them. It’s you or it’s no one.”

“Stop it, Fabian. Don’t put that much pressure on him,” Adaine says, pausing in setting up her bedroll to nail Fabian with a glare.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here—”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. If he can’t find his family, then we came all this way for nothing.”

“I’m gonna find them.” Riz clenches his hands into fists, leaving deep imprints in his palms from his claws. The piercing pain focuses him and he realizes that Fabian is right, even if he’s not being particularly delicate about his approach. Everyone needs him to step up and do what he said he could do. “Tomorrow morning. I promise.”

Kristen looks over at him and the doubt on her face makes Riz’s heart ache. His friends don’t believe in him. That’s okay. He can do the work anyway. They’ll see.

Riz lays down to sleep to the sounds of Gorgug sliding a boulder in front of the entrance to their cove. He’s learned about the importance of sleep in the last month and knows that if he’s going to perform at the level he wants to perform at tomorrow, he’ll need as much as he can get.

He falls asleep, listening to the trickle of water and the steady breathing of his five closest friends.

“Shh,” a voice hisses. “Look what you’ve done now. They’re waking up.” The voice tuts its tongue twice.

Riz’s eyes spring open. He wrenches his upper body up to a seated position and tries to understand what he’s seeing with his half-awake mind. He blinks and a dozen yellow-gold eyes blink back at him.

“Uh, hello,” Riz says, kicking Adaine awake. “Good, uh, morning.”

He’s not afraid of goblins, he has no reason to be, but to see six of them all staring at him while he’s still trying to get his brain fully operational is a little intimidating. It’s making Riz’s skin crawl from being so thoroughly studied by these strangers.

Riz watches Adaine shake the others awake out of the corner of his eye. He supposes he’s left to be the diplomat.

He switches to Ghukliak. “My name is Riz Gukgak. My friends and I are looking for the Uxlourd horde. I’m a descendent. Can you help me find my way to them?”

“You’re friends with these ungoblins?”

“They’re good ungoblins, I promise. They won’t hurt you.” Riz gives the goblin a reassuring smile and turns around to his friends, giving them an encouraging nod. “You won’t hurt them, right?”

Five eager nods and assurances come from the other Bad Kids instantly.

The goblin who spoke up looks a fraction less cautious now. He takes another step forward, reaching his hand out for Riz’s. Riz takes it warily. “It is good to see you again, Riz Gukgak. Welcome home.”

Riz’s eyes widen, trying to remember this goblin. It’s been too many years since Riz has visited, the faces of his family and the other clan members all blend together into a generic green. He smiles, though, earnestly. “Thank you,” he says in Common. “It’s good to be home.”

The goblin swipes his thumb across the back of Riz’s hand once before dropping it. “You don’t remember me, I can tell. That’s alright. I’m a friend of your grandmother’s. My name is Aluxi. Please, I’d like to meet these friends of yours.”

“Of course,” Riz says, scurrying out of his bedroll. “Aluxi, meet Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He promises to be on his very best behavior, isn’t that right, Fabian?”

Fabian smiles, eye narrowed tightly. “That’s me. Mister Good Behavior.” Fabian gives his hand to Aluxi who swipes the back of it with his thumb. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, gaath’dar.”

Riz’s cheeks burn. Ungoblin is not a flattering thing to be called but it’s not actively hostile, either so he thinks it’s something he’ll need to let slide. Still, he doesn’t love having his friends referred to by a word which is just a few steps away from a slur. Once the atmosphere is less delicate, less tense, Riz promises himself that he’ll talk to Aluxi about it.

He introduces Aluxi to each Bad Kid, praying that everyone will be polite and careful with their words. He holds Kristen’s hand in his when he introduces her, tracing be nice in his modified version of Thieves’ Cant into her hand as he does.

He’s worried in the past that she hadn't been paying attention during his lessons with the other Bad Kids to teach them this modified language, but when she smiles and shakes Aluxi’s hand with all the decorum Riz has ever seen on her, he’s proud of her. Not only does she remember the symbol’s meaning but she followed the instruction.

She certainly tests him, some days, but Riz does love Kristen with his whole heart and he’s especially proud of her in this moment.

Aluxi swipes his thumb across her hand and nods his hello.

Riz carefully steps towards the other five goblins who still cower near the entrance to the cove. He wonders, idly, how many of them it took, working together, to move the boulder that Gorgug used to block the entrance. “Hello,” he says, a peace offering. “Are you afraid?”

Four of the goblins nod but one shakes her head. “No, sir. I’m brave.”

Riz smiles. “You seem very brave. Young, too. Are you all a scouting party?”

“In training, under Aluxi,” the brave goblin says. “We’re still learning what it’s like to leave the central caverns.”

“Well, thank you for scouting us out. We needed some help trying to find you. What’s your name, brave one?”

“Shex.”

“Shex, do you think you and your friends could help lead us home? I have some family members that I’d love to see.”

Shex smiles brightly, showing off her fangs. “Yes, sir. We can.”

Riz turns around to Aluxi who’s smiling fondly at the scouts-in-training. “Is that alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry to invite myself.”

“You are, of course, invited, Riz Gukgak. But your friends—”

“I can vouch for them. I know five, uh, gaath’dars entering your central caverns probably seems intimidating but they’re all amazing people. They’ve saved my life a hundred times. I wouldn’t have been able to make this trip without them. I promise they’ll be on their best behavior.”

Aluxi sighs. “If you’re sure,” he says. “Then let’s get moving. We’re not far from home.”

Riz turns to the others and smiles. “See? I got us where we need to go.”

Fabian laughs, or maybe scoffs, Riz can’t exactly tell. He rolls his eye but it looks more fond than derisive.

“Alright, The Ball. Keep it moving.”

Riz rolls up his bedroll quickly and scrambles to follow the scouting party out of the cove.

The tunnels open up into an enormous cavern, twice as big as a bloodrush field with a tall, vaulted ceiling. Riz smiles. He recognizes this place now. He’s home.

Small goblin children swarm the place, laughing, running, and playing with one another. Riz recognizes the game, a form of tag that can be won if you’re fast and clever enough. He always used to win when he played.

He misses this place. It was always an enormous relief to come here for family visits when he was a kid and be surrounded by so many more goblins. Dozens, maybe even a hundred, instead of the small handful that live across Elmville. Riz was able to let his guard down and just be when he visited. He could hiss and growl to his heart’s content. He could speak in Ghukliak. He could see other goblins, adults, who he might, one day, grow up and become.

It was paradise.

“Welcome back, Riz. Did you miss us?” Aluxi asks.

“Desperately. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. It’s hard because mom’s always busy. We couldn’t afford to make a trip.”

“And your father?”

Riz looks down at the rocky floor, burning a hole in it with his eyes. “He died,” he whispers.

“Oh, Riz. I’m so sorry.” Aluxi pulls Riz into half of a hug and squeezes his shoulders. Riz lets his head fall onto Aluxi’s chest. “We didn’t know. We’ve all been missing Pok terribly but… we didn’t know.”

Riz nods, unable to speak without risking his voice cracking. He lets Aluxi lead him and his friends into the elder’s den silently.

Riz sees his grandma, Izick, sitting on a short, flat rock, covered with a mossy blanket.

“Hi, gram,” Riz says, a wide smile making its way onto his face. “I’m back.”

His grandma’s eyes open wide and her mouth falls open. “My boy, my young boy,” she says. She pushes herself to her feet with a groan of exertion and approaches him. Riz meets her halfway and presses his forehead to hers. “I thought I might never see you again, my boy. I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m sorry, gram,” Riz says, feeling stress melt away from his body as he feels this connection to her. He misses these goblin greetings, the swiping thumb, the forehead touch. They just feel right in his body. He instantly feels less anxious. “But I’m here now. And I brought friends!”

Riz gestures behind him to the other Bad Kids who stand awkwardly, like they haven’t been told if they’re allowed to move a muscle yet, and Riz supposes that they haven’t. “Hello, Riz’s grandma,” Fig says, nervous smile on her face. “Hi, uh, hello!”

His grandma smiles warmly and beckons them to come forward. She grasps Fig’s hands in hers and pulls her down lightly. Riz smiles as they press foreheads together, a gesture of goodwill, welcoming, and love. He’s never dreamed of his extended family meeting his friends but now that the scene plays out before him, he revels in it.

“It’s good to meet my sweet boy’s friends,” she says, repeating the gesture with each Bad Kid. Gorgug has to kneel on the ground to line up their foreheads and Riz chuckles at the display. “Riz, sweetheart, why haven’t you come back sooner? It’s been so many years.”

“Dad died,” Riz says, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Mom and I couldn’t make it out here on our own.”

His grandma clasps him by the shoulders and looks into his watery eyes. “Sweet, sweet boy, I’m so sorry. I loved Pok like my own son. My daughter chose very well with him and he did a wonderful job raising you, sweetheart. We, the horde, will hold a remembrance for him this evening. Would that be alright with you?”

Riz nods, forcing a smile on his face. “Sure, gram. And, hey, where’s grandy? I want to say hello.”

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you, as well. Your grandfather passed away earlier this year. It was peaceful and he was surrounded by love but we all miss him terribly.”

Riz freezes in place. He passed away earlier this year. If he had visited any time since his dad died, he would’ve had a chance to see his grandfather again. He should’ve prioritized a trip. He and his mom could’ve made it work, somehow, if they had wanted to.

But he didn’t make it a priority and now another family member of his was dead.

He turns around and faces the Bad Kids, eyes wide and pleading, for what, he doesn’t know.

Adaine scurries beside him and pulls him into a hug. “Oh, Riz.” Riz melts into the hug and lets tears fall from his eyes. The past month has been too stressful for him to repress his feelings in the way that he usually does. They leak out of him like water from a ship’s hull. He goes limp in Adaine’s arms and lets her hold him together.

“Sweetheart,” His grandma says. “It’ll be okay. Grandy will still always be with you, through the hands of Kikanuti. He will be reborn in a way that touches your life, somehow. We know this to be true.”

Riz nods into Adaine’s chest and allows himself to cry for fifteen more seconds before pulling himself together. He takes a deep, steeling breath and turns back around. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m okay. I, uh—can I show my friends around? Would the other elders mind?”

“I’m the Head Elder now, my sweetheart. And I give you and your friends full permission to explore. This is your home, too, Riz. Make yourself comfortable and, when you’re ready, why don’t you come find me again to tell me why you’ve come. I can tell you have a reason, something beyond just a family visit.”

Riz ducks his head, caught. “Yes, gram. I will.”

He grabs Kristen’s hand and leads the Bad Kids out of the elder’s den.

“Welcome to the Uxlourd horde, everyone. Let me give you the tour.”

It’s a long tour, finding new distractions at every corner and in every nook and cranny. The goblin kids that run around are half-terrified and half-curious of the newcomers in their horde. They swarm the feet of Gorgug, especially—Riz figures that they see green skin and think that he’s some sort of super goblin—but no Bad Kid gets away without being poked and prodded by toddlers and children. Riz laughs and plays with them when they come for him, tossing them into the air and chasing them in their games of tag.

He’s smiled as much in the past hour as he has in the past month. It’s a relief to have these moments of rambunctious fun without worrying about the Night Yorb. After getting the news about his grandpa, he decides to let himself enjoy it. He needs a boost, lest he spend the rest of this trip thinking about the death of his loved ones and how his family keeps getting smaller and smaller.

He sees familiar and not-so-familiar faces as he walks through. More people recognize him than he recognizes. As he waves hello to them, he wonders how many other members of the horde have left to live city-goblin lives. Maybe they see a goblin wearing slacks and a gun on his belt and think this must be the crazy goblin who decided Elmville could give him a better life than we could. It was hard to know.

Riz leads the Bad Kids through the kitchen cavern where meats are cured and berries and plants are prepared for meals. He shows them the dining “hall,” a large cavern with a low, flat rock used as a table and smaller boulders used as seats at the table. The goblins that work in the kitchen rush to feed the Bad Kids, offering them nuts, leaves, and dried, salted meats. Riz tries to wave them off, wanting to be polite, but Fabian and Gorgug quickly agree to a quick meal. Riz realizes they haven’t eaten since yesterday and admits that it might be a good idea to sit down and get some calories in their bodies.

“What do you think?” Riz asks, nervous for the answer.

“About?”

“Home,” he replies, realizing a second after the word leaves his mouth that he does think of this place as home, even though it hasn’t been his permanent living place since he was a toddler. “The people, the place, just—what do you think?”

Kristen grins widely, a string of jerky stuck between her two front teeth. “It’s awesome. I wish my family was this cool. I want relatives who live in caves.”

“It’s really quite impressive, Riz,” Adaine agrees. “Our textbooks lack so much information about goblin life; I never would’ve guessed that this is how they lived.”

Riz narrows his eyes at the reminder of school textbooks and their portrayal of goblins. The inaccuracies are prevalent in any book he’s read so far at Aguefort or the library. Perhaps it’s because goblins are still seen as monsters to many people, or perhaps it's because goblins in the wild are so good at hiding from others; there’s a lack of observational evidence to cover in textbooks. Either way, it’s gross and borderline offensive, the things he’s been forced to read about himself in school.

“Yeah,” Gorgug adds. “It’s awesome. I love this place.”

Little goblins still swarm Gorgug’s feet and he offers them berries from his plate. They shake their heads, big ears flopping over, and continue to play with his shoelaces and pant cuffs.

“I do, too,” Riz agrees. “I’m glad we found it. I think after we finish eating, it might be time to talk to the elders about the Thing.”

Fabian sighs. “Can’t we have one day without thinking about the Thing?” He asks.

“Sorry, Fabe, vetoed. We have to get to work.” Riz plays with the husk of a berry on his stone plate. “Time for you to meet the other elders.”

Izick, Maikax, and Ulterd are the same elders that Riz remembers from his last visit to the Uxlourd horde. He’s glad that he has some sort of in with them, an appeal to their emotions.

“Hello, elders,” Riz says, dropping to the ground. He sits on his heels and gestures at the other Bad Kids to do the same. With his eyeline below the elders’ he continues. “We came to ask for your help. It’s been almost a month of this age of darkness, and we know a little about the cause of it but not enough.”

“You know what caused the darkness?” His grandma asks.

“Yes, gram. I did.”

“That’s not true,” Fabian interrupts. “That’s not, uh, that’s not right. The Ball may have triggered it, in a way, but the darkness was caused by a being called the Night Yorb.” Riz’s chest aches at the sound of the name. The ache grows every time the word is said and, at this point, the pain that accompanies the use of its name burns through him. He presses his palm into his chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. “Sorry. We try not to use those words.”

“This—this Night Yorb,” Ulterd begins, making Riz hunch over in pain, “what do you know of it?”

“Not much,” Riz says. “Not yet. We’re doing research about it. Trying to figure out how we can stop it, but we don’t have much information. We were hoping that you might. I know that a goblin’s knowledge doesn’t often make it into books and I figured I would come straight to the source. Do you, uh, do you know anything about the Thing?”

“The Thing?” Maikax asks.

“The name of the being causes Riz a lot of pain. It lived inside his chest, for a time, and we believe that there’s a residual effect of its name on him because of that,” Adaine explains.

“This ‘Thing’ lived inside you, Riz?” His grandma asks. “How?”

“I wish we knew.”

“We do know of the ‘Thing,’” Maikax says. “Or at least, I do. I remember my mother telling me about it when I was young.” Riz’s ears perk up. “On long winters without sun, she would tell me to be grateful that the sun hadn’t been blotted out for good, just for a short time. She said that her mother told her about a time when the sun was gone for moons upon moons. She didn’t call it by the same name that you did but, when this darkness came, it reminded me of that story. She called it the Endless Night.”

“The Endless Night,” Gorgug repeats in a whisper.

“If I remember correctly, there was a group of adventurers who eventually were the ones to stop the Endless Night. They were members of the Church of Pelor, a god of the sun, amongst other things. After a grueling battle in which most of the adventurers died, they were able to use their power to seal the Endless Night away, or at least that’s what we heard tell of. It came from traveler to traveler, from goblin to goblin, however, and I’m not sure how much is true and how much was sensationalized.”

Riz nods, knowing about the difficulties of verifying facts in oral histories. Especially in an insular community like a goblin horde, getting information from the outside world is difficult.

“The Endless Night must be weak to the power of the sun, then,” Adaine says with a smile. “You were right, Riz. We shouldn’t be researching night and darkness; we should be researching the sun.”

“Solar energy,” Gorgug repeats, the words slipping from his mouth while his eyes go unfocused, thinking hard about something.

“The sun’s gone, guys. It was a good theory but we have no way of harnessing the power of the sun if we can’t even see it.”

“It’s not gone,” Ulterd says. “It’s still there, still moving through the sky like it always has. We just can’t see it anymore.”

Riz cocks his head to the side and frowns. “What do you mean?”

“The Endless Night couldn’t possibly destroy the sun. It only blotted out our view of it. The sun is there, behind a sheet of black. It’s still there.”

A slow grin grows on Riz’s face. “Of course it is. That’s… that’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”

His grandma smiles back at him. “Riz, we can tell you everything we’ve heard about the Endless Night. But, please, in return, may you do the same with us? Our hunting and gathering parties have been struggling lately with the constant darkness. New berries aren’t growing. Animals are too scared to leave their dens. We need to know what’s happened and what will happen, if you have any information to share with us, so we can make sure to look out for our own.”

“Of course,” Riz says earnestly. “We’ll tell you everything.”

Riz turns to the others and sees cautious smiles on their faces, too. They’re getting somewhere. They’re learning something.

The Night Yorb will have another group of adventurers coming for it soon enough.

The Bad Kids sit around a small pot of cold soup that was delivered to the private chamber they were given to sleep in. Riz insisted that they didn’t need special treatment but his grandma argued that the goblin children wouldn’t be able to sleep if they knew there were interesting strangers just a few feet away that they could needle.

Riz speaks first. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

Fabian sighs. “I don’t want to fight another dragon.” He rolls his bowl from side to side on the rocky floor, having finished the soup inside.

“We don’t necessarily have to fight it,” Fig says. “We could steal from it.”

“That seems overly dangerous,” Riz says. “We just need a single thing from its hoard: that prison crystal. The thing that the expert on solar energy is stuck inside,” he reminds the others about the lead they got from the elders. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea to try to bargain with the dragon for it.”

“I like the idea of a heist,” Fabian says, inclining his chin towards Fig who smiles back at him.

Gorgug shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind fighting a dragon. I mean, we did it once already.” Adaine nods.

“I pick the path of least effort,” Kristen says. “Let’s just talk to the guy, make a deal.”

Riz frowns. They’re in a tie, two votes on each option: heist, deal, and fight.

“How about this? Team heist, why don’t you describe your plan?”

“Gladly,” Fig says with a wide, fanged smile.

“Okay, first, Adaine would cast Pass Without Trace on all of us.”

The Bad Kids walk through tunnels just tall enough for Gorgug to stand at his full height. They hear heavy breathing, the breaths of a sleeping dragon, ahead of them and they drop into low, sneaky crouches, their footsteps going silent.

“Pass Without Trace is a Druid spell, Fig.”

“Oh.”

The Bad Kids are not in low, sneaky crouches. Their footsteps echo on the stone floor of the tunnels and the dragon’s breathing stops, as if it’s holding its breath to better listen to something.

“I hear you coming, little creatures,” the dragon’s booming voice comes echoing down the tunnel. “Come closer. I’m quite hungry.”

“Okay, okay, different approach. Fabian casts Cat’s Grace on all of us so our Stealth is higher.”

“I don’t need Cat’s Grace. I’m a rogue; my Stealth is fine.”

The Bad Kids walk through tunnels just tall enough for Gorgug to stand at his full height. They drop into somewhat low, sneaky crouches, their footsteps going almost silent.

The dragon’s breathing stays even in its sleep. With a few more careful steps, the Bad Kids emerge into the dragon’s chamber where its hoard is kept. Shiny gold pieces litter the floor. Items that ooze with magic stick out of the piles of gold. On top of it all, lies an adult green dragon.

Riz trips on a goblet and it clatters across the ground. The room echoes with the sound of a metallic clattering.

“Okay, fine, cast Cat’s Grace on me, too. Fuck.”

On top of all the treasure, lies an adult green dragon.

Walking through the treasure, Riz dodges a goblet that threatens to trip him.  

The Bad Kids, in a tight group, walk from pile of gold to pile of gold, searching for the light blue crystal they were told could help them in their quest by the goblin horde’s elders.

Fig leans down and picks up a piece of platinum hidden amongst the gold. She slips it into her pocket. The platinum must’ve been load-bearing, as an entire tower of gold comes toppling down. The dragon shifts in its sleep, set off-balance by the avalanche of gold. It opens a single, wide eyelid.

“You dare steal from me?” It asks, before blowing a cloud of poison gas that consumes all six of the Bad Kids.

“Okay, what we’re not going to do is steal anything unnecessary from the dragon.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The Bad Kids, in a tight group, walk from pile of gold to pile of gold.

They comb through the room slowly, in search of the light blue crystal. Never going more than a few inches from each other’s sides, the Bad Kids take thirty long, silent minutes walking from end to end of the dragon’s lair.

The dragon wakes up from its nap.

“Hm, I see interlopers have made their way inside my lair. That’s a decision you will not live long enough to regret.”

“We have to move faster. Let’s split up.”

“Buddy system?”

“Buddy system.”

Gorgug and Fig sift through the north and west corners of the dragon’s lair. Riz and Fabian carefully inspect the magic items closest to the dragon itself. Kristen and Adaine search through the rest of the chamber.

“I found it!” Kristen shouts.

The dragon wakes up.

“Kristen!”

“I’m sorry! I got too into it.”

“I found it,” Kristen whispers.

“And there we go! Simple as that.”

“Sim—simple as that? I think all that proved is how many different ways a heist could go wrong, Fig.” Riz temples his fingers and rests them against the bridge of his nose. “We don’t get to reset the heist any time we make a mistake. It’s one chance and that’s it.”

Fig huffs. “I think we could do it, man. It’s a better strategy than fighting, anyway.”

“I agree,” Riz says. “I don’t think we should fight unless there’s no other choice. But dragons are intelligent, logical creatures. I think, maybe, we could strike a deal with it.”

“I don’t hate The Ball’s idea,” Fabian says, pushing his nail beds back idly. “The heist would be fun but it might be better to be upfront with the dragon. We can offer to do a job for it, or something. Trade it some gold, I dunno. Something.”

“Exactly,” Riz says.

“So, what, we just approach this dragon and—”

“Hello!” Adaine calls out, voice a step higher pitched than usual. “Hello, dragon, um, please don’t kill me!”

Riz watches through an Arcane Eye as Adaine’s Simulacrum walks into the dragon’s lair. Gorgug recently built a monitor screen that would allow multiple viewers to look through an Arcane Eye at once, allowing the Bad Kids to crowd around it with their fingers crossed that they won’t regret this approach. He squints, looking for any signs on the green dragon’s face that it’s about to snap and eat Adaine’s avatar in a single, gulping bite.

“Why, hello, little one. What brings you to my neck of the woods?” The green dragon lifts its head into the air, pushing itself up into a tall, strong posture. It tilts its head slightly to the side as deep, rumbling words come out of its mouth.

The dragon’s lair entrance was hidden behind a waterfall in the woods surrounding the mountain that the Uxlourd horde resides in. A scouting party led by Aluxi took the Bad Kids there, though the scouts were quick to run home, not wanting anything to do with the dragon. Riz is just grateful that they knew of this dragon’s lair. And, more importantly, that they knew about the valuable crystal held inside of it.

He just wants to get his hands on that crystal. It could hold the secret to stopping this endless night.

Adaine’s simulacrum smiles nervously. “I heard from a little bird that your hoard held something important to me and I wanted to make a deal with you to trade for it.”

The Simulacrum’s hands clench and unclench unconsciously. Riz wants to tell Adaine to make her construct appear braver but he doesn’t understand how the magic works, or if that’s even possible. He wishes he could be in that room, to talk to the dragon himself, so that Adaine doesn’t have to make herself this nervous but they all agreed that it would be prudent not to risk any of their lives in case this conversation doesn’t go well.

So here he stands, in the wings and useless. He presses up to his toes so he can get a better view of the arcane monitor.

“How interesting. I have something you want, you say? But do you have something that I desire?”

The simulacrum smiles again, slightly more confidently. “What is it that you desire?”

“Take a look around yourself,” the dragon says, opening a wing in gesture. “Treasure, little one. I desire nothing more than treasure.”

“You wouldn’t, um, you wouldn’t perhaps want a favor, instead? An errand ran? Is there something like that I could help with?”

“You asked your question and I answered it. If you are not pleased with my answer, then I suppose there is no agreement to be made between us.”

“No, no! I’m sorry, I, um—I can find treasure for you. I’ll come back with treasure in exchange for the item that I’m looking for. I’ll come back.”

The dragon grumbles, low and resonant. “You waste my time, coming here with nothing to offer me, little one.”

“I have things to offer you. I just need time to collect them. I’ll come back, I swear. With so much treasure. You won’t know what to do with it all.”

Riz cringes. She’s overselling things. They don’t have so much treasure. They barely have any treasure available for the trade at all. Everyone was hoping that the dragon would ask for the Bad Kids to go on a quest for it, to retrieve something or kill someone on its behalf. He would’ve done that with a smile on his face. This request, though, makes things a bit more complicated.

Adaine’s Simulacrum stutters a goodbye and dismisses herself from the dragon’s lair. The avatar comes sprinting out of the cave and around the corner, where the Bad Kids all stand crowded together around the monitor.

“It could’ve gone worse,” she says, dissolving her Simulacrum into snow.

Riz watches it begin to slowly melt. “It could’ve gone better.”

“Of course, sweetheart, we’ll do what we can to help. Say, come with me,” Riz’s grandma says. He scurries after her, following her to an offshoot from the main cavern that he’s never been to before. It’s filled from wall to wall with piles of weapons, armors, and trinkets.

“Oh, wow,” he exhales.

“Welcome to the armory. Don’t go guiding any of the sardaar here, though, you hear me? No little ones allowed.”

Riz nods quickly, understanding why his tour of these tunnels as a younger child never included this room. At least a hundred swords, daggers, crossbows, and battleaxes lean against the walls, looking sharp and shiny. Most of them are goblin sized but on the north wall, there’s a collection of weapons that look much too big to wield for someone his size.

“Adventurers sometimes lose their way in these mountains and forests. Their armor can often be repurposed, even if it's not the right size for a goblin. But their weapons, now that’s another story. I never knew why we were collecting human-sized longswords and war hammers until now but I think it was for this very moment.”

“Thank you, gram,” Riz says with a smile. “You don’t have to offer this to us; I’m sure we can find another way to appease the dragon but—”

“Nonsense. If the six of you kids are trying to save the world, it is my duty to do what I can to help you. Take any weapon in here that a goblin cannot wield. With those and the gold we have in our stores, perhaps the dragon will be willing to trade the prison crystal with you.”

“We can’t take your gold, gram.”

“What need do we have for gold, sweetheart? It was easier in the past to find a trader who wouldn’t turn away a goblin, but these days, even just approaching one is asking to get attacked. Our gold grows dusty. I’d be happy if we found another use for it.”

Riz sighs, discontent with how much help he’s asking for. He doesn’t like relying on others and he certainly doesn’t like burdening them. Yet, here he is, doing both. “Thanks, gram,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope this guy in the gem is all you say he is.”

“We hear things, in the woods, from adventurers. The party who lost him said that their solar research could never be completed without him. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that, but it's a lead, sweetheart. It’s a step forward.”

Riz smiles and presses his forehead to his grandma’s. “It’s a step forward,” he repeats.

“Go, go, grab your friends. Especially that tall, strong one. There’s a lot of weapons to carry out of here.”

Riz jogs off in a hurry. It was time to make a trade with a dragon.

The Bad Kids, each laden with weapons and gear, tromp through the forest and duck under the waterfall that conceals the entrance to the dragon’s lair. Riz is especially hunched over, too many daggers strapped to his back, the weight of which has him moving at half his usual speed.

“Everyone, be so cool while we’re in there, okay?” Riz pleads with the other Bad Kids. “Let’s just get out of this situation without any drama, yeah?”

“Kristen, stop making that face. You have to listen to him,” Adaine says. “The dragon—it’s terrifying. I could feel it through my avatar. If just being in its presence scares the shit out of us—”

“—then we have no hope of killing it,” Riz finishes for her. “If this turns into a fight, we’ll lose.”

“We killed a dragon before,” Kristen protests.

“With chronomancy, Kristen. We were going to lose that fight, too, if it weren’t for Aguefort’s watch.”

Kristen frowns. “Whatever. I still think we can take it.”

Riz shushes her as they get closer to the main chamber of the dragon’s lair. He’s glad that they had the Arcane Eye earlier today so that Riz could know what he is walking into.

Piles of gold, dotted with magical trinkets line the cavern from wall to wall. Riz’s eyes go blurry from the sea of golden light.

“Hello, dragon, um, please don’t kill us,” Adaine repeats. “We brought treasure.”

“Little one, you have brought friends with you.”

“Yes, dragon, um, sir? I needed help carrying the treasure.”

“I can see that,” the dragon says, hot breath blowing on the Bad Kids. It makes Riz sweat, or maybe that was the fear that courses through his body. He wishes he had remembered to reapply deodorant before facing this creature. “Show me what you’ve brought me."

Riz lays out his daggers and watches the others lay down their weapons, as well: battle axes, hammers, longbows, short swords, and bucklers. An abundance of weapons lay at their feet. Riz can only hope that it’s enough.

“I see. How mundane.”

Adaine’s fists clench and unclench again, echoing her simulacrum from just a few hours ago. “That's all we have. We just want a single crystal in exchange, dragon. Surely two dozen weapons is a fair trade.”

“It is not, little one.”

The dragon bristles, lifting its head and Riz puts his hand on his gun by instinct before pulling it away. He doesn’t want to appear hostile. They still have a plan B.

“For just one crystal?” Fabian says, a final plea.

The dragon shakes its head and narrows its eyes. “You insult me with this offer. I—”

“We have gold!” Adaine interrupts. “I’m sorry, uh, we have gold, as well. We can offer you all the gold we have.” Riz watches her roll Persuasion and is impressed with her delivery. The desperation in her voice, even he can’t tell if it’s real or put upon. “Here,” she says, cueing the others.

They each empty their pockets, each supplied with one-sixth of the Uxlourd gold stash. Fabian insisted that this would be a more effective display than a single one of them carrying the gold and dumping it all out at once.

In unison, the Bad Kids lay the gold at their feet, making piles of shiny metal atop their offered weapons.

“It’s all we have, dragon. Please.”

The dragon lowers its head, getting terrifyingly close to the six of them. Riz is shaking in his boots. He clenches his leg muscles, trying to stop them from quivering in fear.

“Little one, I thank you.”

Adaine’s face breaks into a nervous grin. “You’ll take the trade?”

“Oh no,” the dragon says with a wide, wicked smile. “But I’ll certainly take the treasure.”

He blows out a cloud of poisonous gas and the fight begins.

“Plan C!” Riz shouts, scattering from the others. He watches Adaine and Fig book it, too, into different corners of the room. Fabian and Kristen are left behind, hunched over and unable to run because of the powerful coughs wracking their bodies. Gorgug steps forward and begins to slice at the dragon’s thickly armored chest. Riz knows that its scales will keep Gorgug’s attacks from doing much damage but his job is simply to keep the dragon distracted while the others look for the crystal.

The Bad Kids knew it might come down to a fight. Riz was the loudest voice in the room insisting that they prepare for the worst. He thought back to a lecture on dragon types and recalled that green dragons were perhaps the most tricky of the chromatic dragons. He was worried about something like this, the dragon taking the treasure but not the trade.

He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to this, or else he wouldn’t have suggested the plan. He wouldn’t have taken the treasure from his horde if he hadn’t truly believed that they had a chance for a peaceful deal. He feels terrible, now, as he sprints through the stacks of gold coins, that he led his party into an ambush.

He can’t dwell on it. He focuses, sharp as a knife, into searching for the light blue crystal that could change the tides against the Night Yorb. All of his focus goes towards the hunt.

“Godsdamn,” he hears Fabian shout. It’s a good sign, he knows, that Fabian can use his voice again. It means the poison has left his system and he can join the others in the search. Adaine flips around and casts Greater Invisibility on Kristen so that she can stay in a supportive role, keeping Gorgug alive while the others sift through treasure.

Riz grabs anything light blue in color. He would rather be safe than sorry, so rings with blue gems, earrings with blue orbs dangling from them, and even blue glass figurines are slipped into his rucksack. They only have one chance at this and he’s not going to waste it.

“More healing!” Gorgug’s voice rings out.

“On it,” Fig calls out in response. Riz hears her footsteps pound through shiny coins but he can’t waste time turning around to make sure that she makes it safely to Gorgug’s side, or that she safely extricates herself from the dragon’s presence after the heal. He has to keep his nose to the grindstone.

He smells cayenne peppers waft through the air, though, and can tell that Fig used a high-level spell. Good. This is the time to burn through their most powerful resources.

Riz sees, past a sea of copper and silver, a perfectly formed crystal prism. It’s about the size of his fist and shines with arcane light. He swears he can see a figure inside of it.

This is it. This is what they’re looking for.

What if it’s not? What if it’s trapped? What if he’s wrong? What if they’re doomed? What if the apocalypse can’t be stopped? What if—

Riz’s body turns around and sprints in the opposite direction of the prison crystal. Half of his brain is screaming in frustration, telling his legs to carry him to his goal. The other half is screaming in fear, too consumed by fright to think coherently.

“Shake it off!” Gorgug shouts. “It’s the dragon getting in your head. You have to keep going.” Somehow, the words get through to Riz and he slows to a stop, head clearing.

It’s not real fear, it’s manufactured, just a magic effect sent directly into his amygdala. He’s stronger than his fear. He can overcome it.

With enormous effort, like he’s swimming through molasses, he picks his legs up and places them down, one in front of the other. He carries himself slowly towards the crystal, fighting his fear. He has lots of practice pushing down his feelings and repressing them. There’s no better place to put that skill into practice than a battlefield with a dragon on it, so Riz does.

“Adaine, message me!” He calls out as he scoops up the crystal and shoves it deep in his satchel.

“What?” She asks, somehow sounding out of breath even telepathically.

“I got it. Time to go. Message the others.”

They know that all sprinting for the exit at once is a bad idea. It would have them crowded together again, setting the dragon up perfectly for another poisonous cloud. In their battle plan, they decide it’s best to try to sneak out one at a time and then let Adaine Teleport Gorgug out once everyone else is safe.

Riz lets the girls go first. He pretends to still be looking around for something but his eyes are on the other Bad Kids.

Fig trips badly on a javelin, smashing her nose into a pile of gold. She scrambles back to her feet and sprints for the exit.

Kristen is next, jogging in a zig-zag, and she follows Fig out the cavern’s entrance.

Fabian is supposed to go next but Riz doesn’t see him running for the exit. He scans the room in a frenzy, looking for his best friend. Riz finds him, finally, sitting on the ground at the southeast corner of the hoard, looking dizzy and unfocused.

“Fabian?” Riz panics, sliding next to him and grabbing his arm. He shakes Fabian lightly. “Fabian, it’s time to go.”

“I don’t feel, uh, good.”

Riz scans his body, triaging the situation.

There’s a deep bite mark on Fabian’s shoulder, each tooth mark easily visible. The wound festers, bubbling and boiling with green liquid. Riz swears. He hadn’t even seen Fabian get attacked. The poison gas must’ve infected the wound instantly, putting him almost entirely out of commission in seconds.

Fabian needs treatment. They don’t have time.

“It’s time to go,” Riz insists. “Feet on the ground, soldier.”

He doesn’t know if he chose the right approach but, when Fabian follows his command and pushes himself to his feet, Riz breathes a sigh of relief. He slips the prison crystal into Fabian’s pocket and pushes him forward, sending him off towards the exit. All he can hope is that Kristen will be waiting with healing magic at her fingertips for Fabian’s escape.

Now, it’s time for Riz’s real job. The distraction.

“Hey, jackass!” Riz shouts. “Ever tasted goblin?”

He sprints for the northwest corner of the cavern. All he needs is to catch the dragon’s attention for long enough that Adaine can slip under its wings and touch Gorgug. Once he hears the shink of a Teleport spell, he can roll Stealth and sneak out of the cavern, the final Bad Kid to make it to safety.

What he didn’t plan for was the tail swipe that sends him slamming against the wall of the cavern. He sees nothing, then stars, and then the mouth of a dragon approaching him faster than he can react. It takes him into its mouth and shakes Riz’s body from side to side like a dog rending meat from a bone.

Shink!

That’s Riz’s cue.

He can’t roll Stealth from inside a dragon’s mouth.

Riz sighs. He doesn’t want to die like this. He doesn’t want to die at all. At least the others have the crystal. At least they still have a chance to save the world.

Riz closes his eyes, too dizzy to see straight.

He wonders what he did in life to deserve such a painful death.

Suddenly, a new sensation overcomes his upset nervous system. He feels wind whip past him and gravity pull on his body as his limp form is thrown from the mouth of the dragon. Whether by mistake or on purpose, Riz isn’t sure, but he thanks whatever guardian angel might be looking out for him for the path that his body took: almost directly towards the exit of the cavern.

He fights to ignore every screaming joint and muscle in his body and pushes himself to his feet. With every last bit of energy in his body, he sprints for the exit and turns the corner, running face first into Gorgug’s lower body.

This time, when he falls to the ground, he can’t get back up.

“I’ll carry him,” someone says. “We have to move.”

Riz is too weak to protest. He can feel blood pumping sluggishly from deep lacerations on his skin from where the dragon’s teeth tore him to ribbons. He can feel bruises pepper his back from his harsh fall. He can feel pain in every part of his body, all-consuming.

Then, he can feel something else. A swell of waves lifting and lowering him gently. He tastes sparkling water and saltwater taffy. He smells the salty air of the sea.

Riz smiles.

Fabian knits Riz’s wounds back together with his magic, a familiar feeling to Riz. He lets the magic wash over him like the ocean’s waters and feels strength return to his body.

Riz disentangles himself from the arms of the person carrying him and lands on his own two feet. He drops into a sprint with the others, all eager to create as much distance as possible between themselves and the dragon. They laugh in relief, or maybe in shock that they all survived.

“Riz, where’s the crystal?” Adaine asks, her eyes watering from the wind that blows in all of their faces.

“Fabian’s pocket.”

“Sneaky little rogue,” Fabian says with a laugh.

“Well, it would’ve been exceptionally stupid to let the last person left in the room carry the treasure,” he says. “Imagine if I had died in there. Quest failed in a second.”

Kristen frowns. “The quest would’ve failed if you died, anyway. We can’t do this without you, dude.”

“Sure you could,” Riz says, but as he looks around, he sees four more faces mirroring Kristen’s. Betrayal and pain are painted across their eyes and mouths. “Come on, guys. That was part of Plan C. You have to realize that there was a chance I wasn’t making it out of there.”

“Uh, no, dude. I don’t have to realize that because that’s crazy, Riz!” Fig says, raising her voice as they jog through the thick forests between the dragon’s lair and the mountains. “Why would you volunteer to be the last person in there if you thought it could kill you?”

“Because it was the strategic choice? No one else could’ve filled that role. It was a risk we had to take. Come on, guys. It’s basic battlefield tactics.”

Gorgug frown deepens. “Riz, we could’ve come up with another plan if you didn’t think this one was survivable.”

“I didn’t think I was signing my death warrant or anything. I’m just saying it was a possibility. But hey, I survived. So what’s the big deal?”

No one responds to him. He pulls his eyebrows together in confusion.

“It was the strategic choice,” Riz repeats.

Adaine’s eyes continue to water, even as the wind eases.

Riz taps on the outside of the crystal in morse code, spelling out, we are trying to help you. He remembers his time in the palimpsest, how scary it was, and he wonders if the person inside this prison gem is feeling the same way he felt: desperate and afraid. He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to get his message or if they’ll even understand it but he figures it's better than nothing.

“I don’t know, guys. This gem… it’s different from the others. I don’t think a Plane Shift is gonna be enough to get the guy out of there. He’s been inside for too long. I think he’s part of the crystal now, or the crystal is part of him,” Fig explains.

“Do you think you and Gorgug could work on something together? Some sort of magic-tech hybrid that would be enough to save him?”

“Maybe,” Gorgug answers. “It’s worth a shot, right, Fig?”

“Yeah, for sure. Just, uh, don’t get your hopes up, guys. It doesn’t look good.”

Riz deflates. He thinks, after risking their lives to fight a dragon and losing all of the treasure that the goblins offered them, that they deserve a win. But the universe has never been fair to him, and Riz can see no reason why it would start now.

Fig and Gorgug take the crystal and return to their sleeping cavern for some privacy and quiet as they work the problem. Riz wonders if he should follow them just to keep an eye on their progress but decides against it. He hasn’t seen his family in years. It was time to be selfish for an evening and spend time with them.

“Mister Riz, do you want to play?” A goblin child asks, tugging at Riz’s pant leg. She’s no taller than a foot and a half and her ears make up half the size of her head. Riz smiles. He wonders if he looked this goofy when he was a kid, too.

“Of course,” he replies with a smile. “Can my friends play, too?”

The child—Riz thinks her name is Xo—nods nervously. “Will they be nice?”

“They’re the nicest,” Riz replies, beckoning Fabian and Adaine over. He lost track of Kristen around dinner time but hopes she’s not getting herself into too much trouble.

“What are we playing?” He asks, switching to Common.

“Hide and seek.”

“Hide and seek, wow. And do you want us to hide or to seek?”

“You hide, I’ll seek,” Xo says, slowly smiling. “I’m really good at seekin’.”

Fabian smiles a crooked grin. “Do you want us to go easy on you or play as hard as we can?”

Xo’s face cracks into an enormous grin. “Play as hard as you can!”

Riz can’t help but smile, too. “Can you count to fifty for us?” When Xo nods and closes her eyes, Riz looks at the others, shares a conspiratorial grin, and they all take off running in opposite directions.

As Riz runs to his hiding spot, a nook in the cavern wall near the dining area, he laughs with pure joy. It’s a rare privilege when he and his friends have a chance to just be kids.

He can’t help but to take advantage of these moments when they come.

Riz can’t sleep. He’s been on a good streak, lately, getting enough sleep to stay functional and to keep his friends off his back. It’s nothing like June, this fresh bout of insomnia, but it still makes him a little uneasy. He doesn’t want to go back to the way things were last month.

He pushes himself to his feet and creeps silently out of the sleeping area, making his way to the dining cavern. He knows it’ll be empty at this time of night and he can have a private place to go through his pockets.

He turns his pockets inside out and empties his rucksack on the wide, flat stone that makes up the dining table. Almost a dozen pieces of jewelry fall out, clattering quietly on the rock’s surface.

“What do we have here,” he mutters to himself, looking at what he liberated from the dragon’s hoard. He separates out the rings, first. One white gold, one tungsten, and one glass. The white and black rings each have light blue crystals embedded in the band. He slips one onto his left middle finger and one on the same finger on his right hand, then looks at his hands. He likes the way the rings look on his fingers. White on his left hand, black on the right. It’s a cool contrast, he decides, and leaves them in place. He slips the blue glass ring back into his pocket.

Next, he looks at the crystal bead bracelet that alternates between black and blue beads. He slips it on his wrist, then pulls it back off. Can he be a bracelet guy? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, having something loose on his wrist. It might be bad for stealthing if he let it clack around, loose like that.

Riz bites the string of the bracelet, severing it, then ever-so-carefully ties the knot tighter so that it will lay flush with his skin, resting against his leather-banded watch. He twists his wrist back and forth, watching the crystal beads reflect light.

Riz scoops up the crystal choker, then puts it back down. Not his thing. Instead, he takes the aquamarine pendant necklace that hangs on a thick, brown cord. He reaches behind his neck and ties the cord around it, letting the necklace hang loosely around his throat. He tucks the pendant into his shirt so that only the cord is left visible.

Riz sifts through a few earrings, studs and hoops, and uses one to pierce his right earlobe. He slips it in backwards, hiding the diamond in the back, so that only the plain, silver flatback is visible from the front. The other earrings, he pushes away, all too gaudy for his taste.

Finally, he picks up a crystal mirror and lifts it to his face. He tilts his head back and forth, showing off the earring and the necklace. He lifts his left hand to his face, seeing what the ring and bracelet look like on him.

He looks… cool. It’s a word he’s never used to describe himself before but adorned with these accessories, he suddenly feels like a new version of himself.

He shoves the pieces he didn’t like back in his rucksack but keeps the other pieces of jewelry on. He wonders what his friends will say when they wake up and see him with all these accessories on tomorrow.

“They’re going to think you’re lame, Riz,” he mumbles, second guessing his appearance. “They’re going to make fun of you.”

Riz sighs. He takes off his bracelet and necklace, slips the earring out of his lobe, and tucks them all into his pockets.

He leaves the rings on. They feel important.

“We got it!” Fig shouts, waking Riz up. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point last night, tucked up in his bedroll, body still limp and loose from sleep. “We figured it out. We can rescue this guy from his prison.”

Riz cracks open an eye and looks at her and Gorgug who hold the crystal and a strange, aracanodevice that Riz couldn’t describe if a gun were pointed at his head. He squints at the sight.

“How?” Riz asks, clearing his throat. He reaches for his waterskin, still working on waking up.

“It’s, uh, really complicated to explain,” Gorgug says. “Basically, we found a frequency that I could send out from my, uh, what would you call it, Fig?”

“Resonation-emitter thingy?”

“On my resonation-emitter thingy that Fig can also play on her bass. With the two in harmony, we think that the bindings that hold the researcher in the prison gem will be shattered. After that, Fig will just Plane Shift inside the gem and pull him out.”

“And this won’t hurt him?” Adaine asks.

“Uh, we don’t think so,” Gorgug says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“It won’t hurt him. It just might not work perfectly.” Fig grimaces. “Again, hard to explain, but we think it might—”

“Please don’t say it,” Gorgug insists. “I don’t want it spoken into the universe.”

“Should we be worried?”

“We shouldn’t be not worried,” Gorgug replies. “But whatever happens, it’ll be better than being stuck in a prison gem for another decade or whatever, right? This guy will be glad to get out, I’m sure, no matter what.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Riz asks. “Let’s do it. Let’s free this guy.”

“Okay. Let’s free this guy,” Gorgug says with a small smile.

He points his arcanodevice at the crystal resting on his bedroll and Fig shrugs on her bass. She positions her fingers over a chord and waits for Gorgug’s cue. He charges up the device and gives her a tight nod.

“Let’s do it!” Fig says, strumming a single power chord as Gorgug’s device sends out a powerful ray that makes Riz’s chest vibrate unpleasantly. He can feel the resonation in his heart and lungs.

He squints at the crystal and sees tiny fractures that have formed around its edges. “Something happened,” he declares. “Time for a Plane Shift?”

“Wish me luck,” Fig says, casting the spell. She disappears for thirty long seconds and, when she returns, she’s not alone.

She’s holding the hand—if you can call it a hand—of a tall, crystalline construct made up of light blue crystal that's only vaguely humanoid in shape. The sea of blue is broken up only by a long, pink eye slit that stretches across its face.

Fig smiles nervously and gestures to the construct. “Everyone, meet, uh—”

“Squeem!”

Chapter Text

The Hangvan comes to a slow stop.

“I honestly thought this would’ve happened sooner,” Gorgug remarks. “Mud’s too deep, guys. We gotta switch to going on foot.”

Riz sighs. He knew this moment would come too but he wasn’t looking forward to hiking instead of laying back in the Hangvan and reading while the others drove. He’s gotten through almost every book he brought with him—stolen from the Elmville library—but would’ve loved a chance to finish up On Darkness and Light: the Eternal Dance. It was a little woo-woo for him but it did have some interesting information about the intersection of light and dark energy.

“Squeem?” Squeem asks.

“No, it’s okay. You can stay here.” Gorgug calls out over his shoulder. The others were having a hard time understanding Squeem’s speech patterns but Gorgug caught on almost instantly. They spent most of their days talking about inventions and solar energy, at least, as far as Riz could tell from hearing just one side of the conversation. “Keep working, Squeem.”

“Yeah, we don’t expect more than a two-day hike as we scope things out,” Fig adds. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Squeem,” Squeem says, soft smile on his face.

Riz smiles and nods back, hoping that’s the right response.

“Let’s get a move on, folks,” Kristen says, swinging herself out of the passenger seat and instantly sinking an inch into the mud. “Ugh.”

“That’s… foul,” Adaine says, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re the one who wanted to go to the Swamps of Ruin!” Kristen retorts. “This one’s on you.”

Adaine cringes. “I didn’t expect it to smell this bad.”

Riz sniffs the air and immediately regrets his decision as he jumps out of the car. “Oh my gods,” he says, almost gagging. “What is that?”

“Our next two days,” Adaine says. “Don’t worry, nose blindness should kick in, uh, soon.”

Fabian looks at her with despair in his eye. “How soon?”

“Soon enough,” she says, grimacing apologetically. “Let’s start hiking. It’ll be a good distraction.”

Riz shoves his shirt over his nose and follows her lead.

“Hell smells better than this,” Fig declares. “This is… this is untenable.”

“Oh, come on, guys. Buck up.” Kristen holds her staff awkwardly a few inches above the mud, trying to keep it from sinking under. “Half of us have died before. We can handle a bad smell.”

“I think I’m dying,” Fabian declares, pulling himself up into the branches of a tree. “It’s the only explanation. I’m dying or I’m already dead and this is hell.”

Riz scoffs. “Hell is a marsh?”

“Hell is this marsh in particular. My shoes are beyond saving, my nose has been under attack for three hours, and my entire arm was just in a giant crocodile’s mouth. Tell me how that’s not hell.”

“Hell’s cooler,” Fig retorts. “I’m thinking about starting a recording studio there. Have you ever heard demon metal? It’s pretty fucking sick, actually.” She scrambles up the trunk of another tree and settles into the crook of a wide branch. Riz follows her lead, scurrying up the same tree and only stepping on her a little bit before launching himself into the next branch.

Gorgug announced it was time for a break to refuel and get some rest before they continue their hike. No one had any desire to argue with that. It was surprisingly tiring work just walking through the swamp with its thick mud and low vines that threaten to trip them with every step.

Not to mention the vines that were actually alive. Riz found himself entangled in a living vine not thirty minutes ago and his throat is still sore from the way it constricted his neck.

It’s impossible to rest on the muddy ground, though, lest they get sucked under, so the Bad Kids decide that taking a load off in the branches of these thick-trunked trees would be the best move.

Gorgug kneels, letting Kristen step on his thigh, and helps her pull herself up to a low branch. She almost slips, even with his hands steadying her. Riz doesn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. He wishes he could give her a bit of his own Dexterity in moments like these but, with Gorgug’s help, she does eventually manage to perch herself in a tree.

Or, what Riz thought was a tree before it opened two wide eyes.

“Oh, hello,” the tree says, voice low, rumbling, and morose. “More humanoids, here to hurt me, I’m sure.”

Riz gently rests his hand on his gun. “We aren’t going to hurt you,” he assures the treant with a Deception roll. “We didn’t even know you were alive.”

“All plants are,” the treant replies, voice dripping with gloom. Riz doesn’t know if trees can cry, but if they could, this tree was about to. “Humanoids don’t often think about that. They come into my marsh and they hurt my friends.”

“We won’t,” Adaine asserts. “We have no intention of hurting anyone.”

“I see your weapons. You, especially,” the treant says, slowly pointing a branch at Gorgug. “You carry a perfect axe for chopping down trees. I am the guardian of this marsh and I cannot allow you access to it.”

“I won’t, uh, I won’t use it. The axe is just to defend myself. I won’t use it on any trees.”

The treant begins to weep thick, sappy tears. “I’ve heard that before.”

Riz winces. He doesn’t want to upset this tree. It’s easily 30 feet tall and, even with all six of them in proper combat positions, he thinks they would struggle with the fight. As it stands, half of them are stuck up other trees that, for all they know, might also be alive. It’s not a fight that they should start, Riz is sure.

They’ll have to talk their way out of the conflict.

“What if he left his axe out here? Then could we go into your marsh?”

“I can’t—I don’t want to leave my axe behind,” Gorgug quietly protests. “It’s, uh, important to me.”

“I would not let an axe-wielder into my swamp regardless,” the treant says through heaving sobs. “I’ve lost too many friends to axe-wielders in my long, long life.”

“Okay, uh, what if… Um—”

“What if I stayed behind?” Gorgug offers.

“What? No, Gorgug, we can’t just leave you.”

“It’s just for a day, right? I can keep myself busy for a day. I have some tinkering I wanted to work on anyway and I can’t do that if I’m hiking. It’s a win-win, guys,” he insists. “You get a lay of the land, I get some work done, the treant doesn’t have to worry about an ‘axe-wielder.’”

The weeping treant’s weeping slows to a stop. It sniffles wetly. “I would allow your friends access to my marsh if you do not join them.”

“See? It’s the best option, guys.”

Riz rubs his temples, trying to push away the headache that threatens to overwhelm his faculties. “What if something happens to you?”

Gorgug smiles encouragingly. “Come on, dude. I can handle myself.”

“Won’t you get bored?”

“Nah. Leave me with some of the supplies from your briefcase and I’ll be fine. I’ve been wanting to make you something, anyway, Riz. I need some wire, copper pipes, a couple of mini-crystal batteries, and, uh… there was something else, too.”

“Here,” Riz says, jumping down from his tree and opening his briefcase. “Take whatever you need.”

“We’re just agreeing to this?” Fabian asks.

“What’s our other option?”

“Killing it,” Adaine’s voice says, piping into Riz’s head through a Message.

“We won’t win.”

Adaine nods and subtly points at the others, passing the Message along.

Gorgug rifles through Riz’s Briefcase of Holding and pulls out a handful of electronic supplies and a satchel to carry them. “Thanks, dude. I’ll be all good. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I won’t, then,” Riz says with a smile. Gorgug’s confidence inspires confidence within himself. If anyone in their party can handle themselves on their own, it is Gorgug. He’ll be fine.

“Mister Treant, ma’am, uh,” Kristen calls out, “Can we still take a break here for a bit before we move on?”

The treant begins to weep again. “I’ve never had humanoids who’ve wanted to spend time with me before.”

Riz hears the sizzle and pop of the treant’s tears burning as they drip down onto the muddy ground. He gives the pool of acid a wide berth as he snaps his briefcase closed and hops back up into a tree’s branches.

“Well, you seem like good company,” Adaine says, unconvincingly. “We’d be happy to hang out with you for a bit.”

“Thank you,” the treant says, gloom replaced with hope. “As the guardian of this marsh, I will pass on the message to my fellow treants to look out for you while you’re inside its bounds.”

Riz smiles. With the Bad Kids, diplomacy seems to work only one in ten times. But when it works, it works. With every tree in the marsh on their side, he feels much more confident about their hike. Without a barbarian by their side, getting into a fight seems a bit more unnerving. But replacing that barbarian with a wealth of treants sounds pretty good to Riz.

“Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself, Miss Treant, sir?” Adaine offers.

The treant begins to weep again, air filling with acid smoke. “No one’s ever asked me about myself before.”

“Wanna see something cool?” Adaine whispers to Fig. Riz is just close enough to hear her words, so he quickly creeps around to her side, rolling Stealth, so that he can eavesdrop more effectively.

“Always,” Fig replies.

Adaine waves her hands in the air and Boggy appears, landing with a gentle plop into Adaine’s arms. “Wait, no. Not you.” She pats him on the head and then dismisses Boggy into a cloud of sparks. She waves her hands again with a slightly different angle to her wrists and, this time, in her arms appears a tiny, exceptionally round, pomeranian puppy with a smile plastered on his face. “Hey, little guy.” Adaine smiles proudly and scratches him behind the ear.

“Holy shit,” Fig whisper-shouts. “You have a dog?”

“I have a dog now,” Adaine grins. “Fig, meet Moggy the Doggy.”

“Boggy has a brother?” Fig meets Adaine’s grin with one of her own, wide and fanged.

Adaine laughs and holds Moggy out for her to take. Fig gently scoops up the dog and pets him on the head. “Why have you been hiding this guy?”

Riz was wondering the same thing.

“I’m not good at casting the spell, yet. Every fourth time or so that I cast it, he comes out, uh, wrong.”

“Wrong?” Fig asks, curiously.

“Wrong,” Adaine answers, and she looks haunted.

“Does anyone else not feel, uh, awesome?” Fabian asks, steps heavy in the mud. He tips forward slightly and Riz grabs his arm and yanks him upright.

“Dude?”

“I don’t feel… amazing.” Fabian’s eyes flutter.

Kristen’s voice rings out from behind Riz. “I don’t feel good, either.”

“I feel terrible,” Adaine agrees.

Riz narrows his eyes studying each of his friends. Adaine looks pallid and unsteady on her feet. Kristen’s cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassy. Fig’s scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand and her skin is closer to white than pink.

Fabian, out of everyone, looks the best. His mouth is hanging open, and he’s taking shallower breaths than usual, but his appearance hasn’t changed in the same way that the others’ have.

Riz feels entirely fine. Which is, maybe, more concerning, he thinks.

“What’s going on? What are—symptoms. List your symptoms,” Riz says, going into problem-solving mode.

“Nausea,” Kristen says.

“Dizziness,” Adaine says, slowing to a stop. Riz stops to catch her elbow.

“Headache.”

“Feels like a flu.”

“I feel lopsided,” Fabian says.

“Yes! That’s what it is. I feel off-balance,” Fig agrees. “Like my equilibrium is off.”

Riz takes out a small notepad and writes down everyone’s descriptions quickly, reading over them forward and backwards, trying to make a connection.

“Kristen, can you try, uh, Remove Curse?” He asks. “No, Lesser Restoration. It sounds like some sort of sickness to me, not a curse.”

“Yeah,” she says, voice weak. She stamps her staff into the ground and gestures with it towards Fig but no magic emanates from the top of it. She frowns and stamps it down again, repeating the gesture. No cloud of purple energy comes from it. “What the fuck?”

“Fig, you know the spell, right? Can you try?”

Fig half-heartedly strums her bass but Riz doesn’t see any magic come bursting out of the strings like it usually does. Nothing happens at all.

“Fabian?”

“Never learned it.”

“Cast a spell,” Riz says, carefully. “Any spell.” He has a theory he needs proven.

Fabian puts his hand on his battle sheet and whips it out in front of him. It doesn’t glimmer under the light of their headlamps.

“Magic’s broken,” Riz says, pulling his gun out of its holster and holding it anxiously in his hands. “Adaine?”

She twists her hands in the air, fingers dancing, but her eyes don’t glow icy blue. “Oh gods,” she says, covering her mouth with one hand. “Magic’s broken.”

Fabian wraps his sheet back around his waist and draws Fandrangor. Adaine follows his lead, pulling her own sword out of its holster.

“Well, I’m fucked,” Kristen says. “What am I going to do, hit bad guys over their heads with my staff?”

“Exactly that, dude,” Fig replies, shrugging her bass strap off her neck so she can hold it in one hand. “I’m ready to pummel some guys with my bass if need be.” She swings her bass back and forth through the air, making sound effects as if she’s in an intense combat. “This is awesome.”

“This sucks.” Adaine holds her sword so tightly that Riz thinks the hilt will bend under her pressure. “What even caused it? We haven’t done anything.”

Riz flips the page in his notebook and starts to write everything that’s happened in the past hour or two. The page ends up blank except for the word walked.

“All we’ve done is walk,” he says uselessly.

“Practically swam,” Fabian says, annoyance coloring his words. “I’m fucking soaked through with mud at this point.”

Riz looks down at his clothes. The mud has gotten deeper. And they’ve been in it for hours. Riz can feel where it slipped into his socks and the sensation makes his skin crawl. The bottom few inches of his slacks are drenched with watery mud, making his ankles damp.

“Hm.”

“A theory, detective?” Fig asks.

“Let’s take a break and get cleaned up,” Riz replies. A nearby treant lowers its branches to the mud so that the five of them can climb up more easily. Riz thanks it quietly and reminds himself to thank the weeping guardian of the marsh on their way out, too, for passing on the message to other trees to look out for the Bad Kids during their hike.

Once they’re settled in, Riz opens his briefcase and pulls out a stack of towels, passing them around.

“We’re just going to get dirty again,” Fabian complains.

“Humor me.” Riz doesn’t bother using one himself. He seems unaffected by the mud’s effect.

Within minutes, the color returns to his friends' faces.

Riz smiles. “Feeling better, guys?” He asks, interrupting the game of I Spy that Fig and Kristen are playing.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Fig says, sitting up straighter. “I feel normal again.”

Adaine spins her hands in a tight circle, then claps them together. Dancing Lights appear around her, bouncing gently. “Thank the gods,” she breathes.

Riz feels for them. He imagines that it must be difficult to have something so integral to your identity leached from your blood by an outside force. Fig’s description of feeling “off-balance” really stuck with Riz. He wonders if his default state is off-balance, considering he has no magic in his blood. What might he feel like if he had something arcane pumping through his veins? He almost feels left out. With Fabian training as a bard and Gorgug taking up artificing, Riz has been left behind, the last Bad Kid without any form of magic.

He wishes he had a way to try magic out, just a little at a time.

“I like your rings, Riz,” Adaine interrupts his reflection. “Did your grandma give them to you?”

Riz looks down at his hands and wiggles his fingers. “Oh, these? No, I stole them from the dragon.”

Adaine laughs. “Good for you!” She takes one of Riz’s hands and flips it over. “They look a little magical to me. Can I Identify them?”

Riz nods and lets her run her thumb over the white band, first.

This is another use of the Identify spell. This ring is known as the Mage’s Finger. When this ring is equipped, as an action, the wearer can cast the Mage Hand cantrip without expending a spell slot. The spectral hand can manipulate objects, open unlocked doors, or perform simple tasks at a distance of up to 30 feet.

“Oh,” Riz whispers. “I can cast a spell.” His face splits into a grin. “I can cast a spell?”

Adaine smiles brightly at him. “Look at him, a real wizard-in-training,” she laughs.

Riz concentrates, bringing all of his attention to the white band around his finger and tries to imagine the shape of a hand coming out from his own. In a blink, a spectral mirror of his own hand appears, hovering a few inches in the air. Riz’s mouth falls open in shock. He experimentally curls his fingers and the fingers on the Mage Hand curl, too. “Look at that,” he murmurs quietly. “Wow.”

Riz crunches his hand into a fist and dismisses the Mage Hand. He looks up at Adaine, grin wide. “Wanna know what the other one does?” She asks.

“Desperately.”

This is another use of the Identify spell. This ring is known as the Ring of Compelled Veracity. When this ring is equipped, the wearer can use their reaction to cast Zone of Truth. A magical zone is created which prevents deception in a 15-foot-radius sphere centered on a point of the wearer’s choice. Until the spell ends, any creature within that sphere must make a Charisma saving throw. On a failed save, the creature can't speak a deliberate lie. The wearer knows whether each creature succeeds or fails on its saving throw.

“That’s so cool,” Riz says, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he can now cast two spells. “I’m magic.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not the best day to learn magic, considering it’s being sapped from us by the mud.”

Riz purses his lips. “From you, right, like from your blood? But I bet magic items would still work.”

“Maybe,” Adaine admits. “Either way, very cool.” She smiles at Riz. “And they look good on you.”

“Thanks, Adaine.”

Riz looks down and sees a stranger’s hands. One who wears jewelry, who knows magic. He looks down and he sees a new and improved version of himself.

He smiles and spins the black ring around his finger idly.

He could easily see himself embracing this version of Riz.

“I’m… not sure,” Gorgug says. “I don’t understand why it’s not starting.”

Riz stands on his toes, looking into the engine of the Hangvan. It’s foreign to him. The metal pipes and brackets might as well be magic for how little Riz understands them. But Gorgug always knows how to fix it.

“Have you checked the, uh, oil?” Riz offers uselessly. It’s the only thing he knows about car maintenance: the oil needs to be changed every once in a while.

“It’s not the oil,” Gorgug replies. “I just don’t know what it is.”

“So, what, we’re stuck here?” Fabian asks, leaning on the side of the van.

Gorgug shrugs. “Unless one of you knows how to fix it. Squeem?”

“Squeem,” Squeem says sadly.

“Riz? Fabian?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m sorry,” Riz replies. Fabian just throws his hands in the air.

“Then I guess we’re stuck here for now.” Gorgug slams the hood of the car closed.

“What if Adaine were to cast Mending on it?”

Adaine speaks up from the passenger seat, window rolled down. “Adaine is soaked through with mud,” she replies, face pale. “No magic.”

“Fuck,” Riz hisses. “This fucking swamp.”

“We can’t just sit around here,” Fabian says.

“He’s right. We should go for another hike, see if we can find anyone that might be able to help us. We know the weeping marsh is north but maybe, if we split up, we can cover east and west, too.”

“I don’t know, Riz. Splitting up in an unfamiliar area? That seems dangerous.” Adaine’s brow furrows nervously.

Riz shrugs. “This place doesn’t seem that dangerous. I know we don’t have magic but we have the trees on our side and every monster we’ve fought so far hasn’t been that bad. Why don’t we do Gorgug, Kristen, and me in one party and Fig, Adaine, and Fabian in the other?”

Kristen jumps out of the back of the van and lands in the deep mud, instantly scowling. “Ugh.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m fine splitting up,” Fig says from the roof of the van. “But let’s all plan to meet back at the van in three days. I don’t want to spread out too far from one another.”

Riz nods. “Good call.” He spins his ring around his finger. “So we’re looking for anyone who can help us with the van or with the Thing, yeah?” He’s met with nods. “And if we find them, we offer them gold or favors for their help.”

“Let’s do it,” Fabian agrees. “See you in three days, The Ball.”

Riz gestures to the east with his head, coaxing Kristen and Gorgug in that direction. “Ready to party?”

“No,” Kristen says. “Let’s do it.”

Riz looks, with awe, at a tall house built on enormous legs, lifting it at least fifteen feet over the swampy waters. A ladder leads to its wide front porch which holds a rocking chair, a portable grill, and a cauldron. Riz’s eyebrows pull together in confusion, trying to make sense of the view.

On the rocking chair sits an old woman with long black hair, matted and covered in dried mud. She wears a loose purple dress with tiny, white flowers dotting it. She doesn’t wear shoes but her feet are surprisingly clean, no mud on them at all.

She drinks from a bowl.

“Hello, dears,” she calls out as Gorgug, Kristen, and Riz emerge from the tree line into her yard. “Welcome, welcome. It’s nice to see new faces. I don’t often have guests.”

“Hey,” Kristen says, drawing out the word. She drops her voice to a whisper. “Is anyone else kinda getting MILF vibes from her?” Riz slaps her hand. Kristen snorts. “Am I wrong though?”

Riz doesn’t bother dignifying her with a response.

“Why don’t you come up?” The woman asks, gesturing to the ladder. “Dry off for a bit, get your magic back?”

Kristen scrambles eagerly for the ladder and begins to climb. Riz wonders if he should be a little more cautious of this strange marsh woman but he smells meat cooking on the grill and it keeps him from thinking straight. He follows Kristen silently, hoping desperately that the woman will offer them some food.

“What are your names, dears?”

“I’m Kristen, pleasure to meet you,” Kristen says, as she pulls herself up onto the porch. She quickly takes one of the woman’s hands and kisses the back of it. “Enchanté.”

“Esmé,” the woman responds. “Nice to meet you as well.”

Gorgug and Riz quickly introduce themselves and shake Esmé’s hand.

“What are the three of you doing in a place like this?”

“We’re looking for some help,” Riz says, turning off the light on his headlamp so it doesn’t blind Esmé as he talks to her.

“Well, you find yourself in luck. I quite like helping wanderers. Tell me, what do you need? A spell cast? A curse broken?”

“The mud doesn’t stop you from casting?”

“Why do you think my house is so high up? I don’t want that awful mud anywhere near me,” Esmé replies. “Though, I have been working on ways to use it for combat sigils…”

Riz’s ears perk up. “Like as a way to sap out other’s magic?”

“Not just their magic. Their energy, in its purest form. I tested it recently when I was attacked by wind elementals. The elementals don’t have magic, not exactly, but the mud sigil I made was still capable of sucking out the energy that makes up their life force. It de-animated them entirely.”

“Interesting,” Riz whispers. “Gorgug, the lasso that you and Squeem have been building, it would be easier to use if the Thing’s energy was drained first, right?”

“Huh?” Gorgug asks, head tilted to the side.

“The lasso, dude.”

“Oh, right, uh… Sure. I think so.”

Riz presses his lips together. He thought he had a pretty good idea but he’s surprised that Gorgug didn’t jump onto it as eagerly as him. “I just think, maybe, if we combine the two, we’ll have a better chance with binding the Thing.”

“What’s this thing that you’re talking about, dear?” Esmé asks, pushing herself to her feet. She walks over to the grill and flips over kebabs of meat, browning each side.

“The Night Yorb,” Riz answers, instantly doubling over in pain. He understands the importance of sharing the name with the people they meet, in case it jogs any memory from them that might help in his research, but gods, does it hurt. “The name, it—”

“We try not to use the name,” Kristen says, finishing Riz’s sentence while he gasps in pain. “Have you heard of it, though?”

“Hm, the Night Yorb?” Esmé asks. Riz falls to his knees, heaving heavy breaths, trying to keep it together. “Is your friend quite alright?”

“I’m good,” Riz gasps, staring a hole into the ground and wishing it would pull him under if that meant the pain would stop. “The name. It’s the name.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, dear. Let’s see, the Thing… No, I can’t say that I heard of it.”

“Shit,” Riz hisses. He pushes himself back up to his feet. “Still, uh, the sigils that you make. Is there a way that you could teach us how to make them, too? We want to stop this creature, the one that triggered the darkness, but we need to be prepared. If we can weaken this thing, I would feel a lot better about our chances with the solar lasso. Right, Gorgug?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Riz narrows his eyes and looks to Kristen. “Don’t you think so?”

“I gotta be honest, dude, I have no idea how the lasso works.”

“Right, but, in theory.” Riz stumbles over his words, confused about why his party isn’t as enthusiastic about this plan as he is. It’s a lead, it’s progress, it’s a step forward. “Esmé, could you—”

“Of course, dear. We’ll have to get a little dirty to get this done though, I apologize for that,” she says, taking the meat off the grill. She gestures to the ladder.

“Don’t apologize about getting dirty,” Kristen says, wagging her eyebrows at Esmé.

Riz slaps her hand. Hard.

“What did you guys find?” Riz asks eagerly, notepad full of diagrams of sigils and pockets full of vials of mud.

Fabian scowls. “Three days of nothing.” He hops into the passenger’s seat of the van and starts to clean himself off.

Even Fig looks vaguely annoyed. She’s been doing a good job of keeping the Bad Kids optimistic on their trip around Spyre but, now, her eyes are dim and she looks tired. “Genuinely, it was nothing but mud and trees,” she says, hefting herself into the driver’s seat and taking a towel to start wiping the mud off her legs. “Most boring weekend of my life.”

“It’s the weekend?” Riz asks. He doesn’t think he’s looked at a calendar since they left Elmville.

“It’s Monday,” Adaine says, checking her crystal. “July 28th.”

“Shit. How has it been two months already?” Riz asks, climbing the ladder on the trunk to crawl on top of the van. They’re made some progress, sure, but for two months of work? They didn’t have much to show for their efforts. The world was still in an age of darkness. The Night Yorb was still at large.

“We have something that’ll help with the solar lasso, we think,” Kristen says.

“Squeem!”

“Yeah, dude. Maybe… I’ll teach Adaine and Fig how to make it, and they can be team sigil. Gorgug and Squeem are team lasso and, uh, Fabian and Riz and I are here.”

“We’ll all have jobs soon, I’m sure,” Riz asserts. “There’s going to be a lot of moving parts for this fight, I’d bet. I mean, someone will have to drive the van—”

“You guys didn’t find anyone who could help with the van?” Gorgug asks Adaine’s party.

“I’m sorry,” she replies. “Are you sure you can’t fix it? I feel like you’ve always been able to tinker and tweak the engine until it gets working again, Gorgug.” Adaine’s ears flatten slightly against her head. Riz takes note of the fractional movement and follows her eye line. She’s looking Gorgug over, head-to-toe. Riz does the same, trying to see what she’s seeing.

Suddenly, her voice comes into his head. “I’m going to cast True Sight on you. Don’t react.”

Riz fights every instinct in his body that screams at him to draw his gun. He stays still, through enormous effort, and waits for the magic to sprinkle over his shoulders like a light snowfall.

He looks at Gorgug who is not Gorgug at all. He’s humanoid, vaguely, but his silhouette is inhuman. His arms and legs are uncomfortably long, fingertips brushing across the ground. His skin is rubbery and gray, freckled with black-brown mud. All of his bones protrude uncomfortably, looking like his skin is about to split over the sharp edges.

His eyes are black holes, empty and soulless and his mouth gapes open with threads of flesh half-covering it like a sparse curtain.

Riz doesn’t react. He looks, casually, to Adaine who is pointedly not looking at him. Her ears are still pinned back but it’s not so obvious that someone who doesn’t know her would catch the micromovements. He commends her stoicism. He’s not sure he would’ve been as subtle if he hadn’t been warned by Adaine before the discovery that Gorgug isn’t who he says he is.

“I don’t know,” Gorgug says. “It’s just fully broken. I wish I knew how to fix it.”

“Got it,” Adaine says confidently. “Well, let’s take a day off and then try another hike. There’s sure to be more people somewhere that we can ask for help. Unless… hmm.” Adaine taps a finger against her lips. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Riz asks, hoping that he’s playing along properly.

“I saw a mechanical piece over here, when we were unpacking. Maybe it’s a missing piece from the engine? Gorgug, come here, I’ll show you.” Adaine takes a short walk to the base of the closest tree to the van, a few dozen feet away. She kneels down, digging through the dirt. “It was over here, somewhere. Can you help me dig?”

Her voice comes through Riz’s head again. “Kristen and I are anti-magicked. We’re relying on the rest of you. Kill him.”

Riz doesn’t wait for her to tell him twice. He draws his gun and shoots Gorgug, crouched over in the dirt and his blood explodes from his arm, spraying Adaine with dark blue fluid.

“He’s a doppelganger!” Riz shouts.

“Kill him,” Adaine repeats, running from Gorgug’s side before he can get to his feet.

His priority, though, wasn’t getting to his feet. It was drawing his axe which he does with tremendous speed, slicing the back of Adaine’s ankles as she runs away. She collapses into the mud, face first, screaming in pain.

She’s a sitting duck, Riz thinks. And there’s nothing a healer can do for her. Kristen’s out of magic and both of their casters with Cure Wounds are stuck in the van, out of range for the spell.

“Don’t worry about me,” Adaine says, through gritted teeth. “Focus on the imposter.”

Riz nods, and lines up another shot. This time, when he fires, the shot goes through the doppelganger’s heart. Or what Riz thought was his heart. When it doesn’t react at all to the bullet, though, Riz wishes he paid attention in class to the anatomy of a flesh mime. He remembers reading about these creatures, a more advanced form of a doppelganger. A flesh mime with enough years of psychic feeding is capable of mimicking every aspect of their victim, from their combat experience to their magical training. A young flesh mime would only be able to get a portion of those deep memories, though.

Riz hopes this is a young flesh mime. And he hopes he can figure out what part of its body is most vulnerable to a bullet.

He’ll try the head, next.

Fig strums her bass and sends an Eldritch Blast through the air, slamming the flesh mime in his chest. It barely stumbles back at all at the impact.

Kristen runs around the van and throws herself into the back of it, rubbing at her legs frantically with a towel, the mud coming off in moist chunks.

Riz watches Adaine try to crawl, elbow over elbow away from the flesh mime but he doesn’t let her go far. He swings his Heavy Metal Axe down and slices her calf, blood spurting high from the wound.

“Kill him,” she cries.

Riz takes aim, lining up a headshot but, as the bullet flies, the flesh mime ducks, using some base instincts to avoid the impact. Riz curses and watches the battlefield as his gun reloads.

He can’t see Fabian below him but he watches as his battle sheet whips out, just long enough to pull at the flesh mime’s ankle and topple him over in the mud. His eerily long arms catch him before he can faceplant but he has to drop his axe in the process.

“Adaine, take it!” Riz shouts, hoping that she can crawl over to the axe before the flesh mime can. She does, turning herself around with impressive speed considering her Achilles tendon is sliced through and her calf is still spurting blood. But as she reaches for it and pulls with all her might, the axe doesn’t move. “Fuck.” He forgot about that little side effect of the Heavy Metal Axe.

The flesh mime scoops up the axe and pushes himself to his feet. He charges for the van, raising the axe up high and aiming for the engine.

“No!” Fig screams, letting out a blast of energy from her strings. The spell attack misses but Fabian, from the front seat, manages to nick the flesh mime’s skin with his sword, taunting him.

“Fight me, coward,” Fabian says, and leaps into the shallow mud. His magic will be sapped but Riz knows how much damage Fabian can do with a sword. He can take a few hits, too. The same certainly can’t be said for the Hangvan’s engine, so, as much as Riz doesn’t want to watch Fabian get hit, it’s better than the alternative. “Where is Gorgug?” Fabian asks, sword swishing through the air in rapid figure-eights. “What did you do to him?”

“He bleeds for me,” the flesh mime says in a perfect approximation of Gorgug’s voice.

“Where?” Riz asks, taking another shot that grazes the flesh mime’s throat. Blood goes spurting out of the wound, covering Fabian in a spattering of blue. Fabian wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, not missing a beat, before swinging again, slicing the midsection of the doppelganger.

“We won’t kill you if you tell us,” Adaine says, chin resting in the mud, paralyzed from her injuries. Riz watches Kristen lean out of the van’s far window and chants a Healing Word that stitches the skin on Adaine’s ankle back together. She ducks back inside the van, making sure not to make herself a target. Adaine nods her thanks. “We’ll let you go. Just tell us where he is.”

“I’ve never lost a fight before,” the flesh mime declares. “Today won’t change that.”

“You’re wrong,” Riz says and takes another shot. The bullet ricochets off of Gorgug’s armor. Riz grimaces. He tells himself to stop shit-talking before he actually lands an attack.

“You’ll see,” The doppelganger says and swings the flat of his axe down, cracking Fabian’s skull with it and knocking him to the ground with a single hit. Fabian goes limp, instantly.

Fig throws a Thunderwave over Fabian’s head, a wave of force colliding with the flesh mime’s slender frame. The impact is powerful enough that some of the bones on his chest burst through his taut skin. It’s horrific to see shiny blue bones protruding from his flesh. Riz is grateful for his True Sight. If he was seeing this damage on a body that looked like Gorgug, he thinks he might be sick.

The flesh mime steps over Fabian’s unconscious body and swings his axe down at Fig who’s hanging half out of the door. “Shit,” she curses and drops her hand from the roof of the van, tumbling down. It was an effective way to avoid the path of the axe, falling straight to the ground, but now her body is covered in mud and her magic has been sapped from her blood.

Riz grits his teeth and puts everything he can into his next shot. Things are getting dire and if the battleground doesn’t turn in their favor soon, the Bad Kids could very well lose this fight.

He fires his arquebus through the flesh mime’s shoulder, disabling his right arm. He passes the axe over to his left hand but it's an unwieldy weapon to wield single-handed. Still, it doesn’t require much finesse to swing straight down. The axe easily embeds itself in Fig’s chest.

Her body stills.

Rage fills Riz’s body. He wants to tear the flesh mime to pieces with his bare hands. Instead, he fights down every feral instinct in his body, takes a deep breath, and shoots the flesh mime through his left eye.

He falls to the ground, still.

Riz shoots him again and again, emptying his bullets in the flesh mime’s eyes, his mouth, his bloody chest. He shoots the flesh mime until all he can hear is the blood pumping in his ears.

A hand on his ankle startles him and he swings to face it, gun cocked and aimed at the person who touched him.

“Oh,” he chokes out. “Adaine.”

“He’s dead, Riz.”

Riz looks at the flesh mime’s body, nothing but a mess of blood. He nods. “Right. Uh, right.”

He searches the battle field for his next priority and sees Fabian sitting up, leaned against the side of the van. He doesn’t look good but his eyes are open and he seems to at least be aware of his surroundings. Kristen must’ve put a hit point or two in him.

Fig’s body is still laying on the ground, axe deeply nested in her chest cavity.

“I only have like twenty more seconds,” Kristen shouts. “Get it out of her!”

Riz leaps down from the van and plants his feet in the mud, wrapping his hands around the handle of the axe. It’s no use. There’s no world where he could remove it on his own.

Another pair of hands wraps around his, steady and warm. He looks over his shoulder at Fabian who nods tightly at him.

Riz summons his Mage Hand and wraps it around the axe’s handle. With five hands, arcane and otherwise, tightly gripping the Heavy Metal Axe, a single strong pull is enough to extract the axe from Fig’s gaping chest wound.

Riz goes tumbling backwards, falling on top of Fabian. The axe nicks him as it flies into the mud but Riz doesn’t feel it. He rolls off of Fabian’s body, skin instantly covered in mud. He doesn’t notice at all; every bit of his mind is laser-focused on Kristen, leaning out of the car window with a diamond in her hand, as she casts Revivify on Fig.

Everyone holds their breath as the spell effect swirls out of Kristen’s staff. It envelops Fig like a blanket, dark purple and sparkling.

Seconds pass.

Then seconds more.

Fig gasps to life.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Kristen mutters.

“Ugh,” Fig says, spitting out blood. “They really have to invent a Revivify that doesn’t make your mouth taste like sewage.”

Riz laughs. He throws his head back and laughs.

“Fig, you died.”

“Yeah, and my mouth tastes like sewage now. It sucks,” she complains. Riz’s laughs turn watery.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “That was—we need to find Gorgug.” Words start to pour out of Riz’s mouth like a rushing current. “Someone, cast Locate Creature. But what if we’re not within a thousand feet of him? When did he get taken? Fuck. We left him alone, remember, with the weeping guardian. It must’ve been then. Let’s go back to that area and then cast Locate Creature. Hopefully the flesh mime’s lair or house or whatever is close by, then we can go save him. The doppelganger said ‘he bleeds for me,’ or something like that, remember? Gorgug’s bleeding somewhere alone; he’s in trouble. We need to move, guys!”

“Take a breath, The Ball.”

Riz heaves in a lungful of oxygen. “Yeah,” he replies, quickly. “I’m good. Kristen, while you’re still dry, can you heal us up?”

Kristen nods and pokes her staff out the window and casts Mass Cure Wounds. Riz is happy to see the gash in Fig’s chest knit itself closed and the welt on Fabian’s forehead flatten out.

“Everyone cool with the plan?” Riz asks. He knows he’s talking twice as fast as usual but there’s no time to waste. It’s been days since Gorgug was replaced. They can’t let him bleed out somewhere alone. They need to save him.

“Yeah, it’s a good plan,” Adaine agrees. “Let’s get hiking.”

Riz nods eagerly and asks the trees to help guide them to the guardian of the marsh.

He feels like he already failed Gorgug, taking almost a week to even realize that he was gone. There were little red flags, moments of doubt, but Riz had dismissed them as stress responses. Sure, he seemed confused about how to fix the van. But just because he’s an artificer doesn’t mean he magically knows everything about tinkering. Sure, he was a little less kind, a little less encouraging. But this was a stressful time, living in the middle of an apocalypse. Sure, he was a little unsure about the project he and Squeem were working on. But it was high level arcanotech, of course it was complicated.

But put all those things together, add in the moments when Gorgug didn’t laugh at inside jokes and the moments when his smile wasn’t quite as warm as usual, and Riz should’ve realized something was wrong.

He was going to have nightmares about this, he thinks. Not the flesh mime, no.

The way that he failed his friend.

“Oh gods.”

Riz’s head snaps up to follow Adaine’s line of sight. What he sees makes him sick.

Gorgug, hung up by his ankles, unconscious. He’s shirtless and he has a deep cut down his midsection, from waistband to sternum, and blood drips slowly from it, covering his face. Riz wonders how he can breathe with his nostrils filling up with blood.

“Gorgug,” Riz calls out, running to him. He presses his hands into Gorgug’s cheeks, trying to wake him gently. “Gorgug.”

“We have to get him down,” Adaine says. “Riz, can you climb the tree?”

Riz regretfully lets go of Gorgug’s face and looks to the tree that he’s been snare-tied to. It looks like an easy climb for someone with sharp claws and high Dexterity, but Riz’s hands are shaking from fear and shock. “Yeah, uh, I can,” he says, hoping it’s the truth.

As he scurries up the trunk and into the high branches he hears Fig and Adaine whisper comforting words to Gorgug. He wishes Gorgug was awake to hear them but maybe, somehow, it filters through to his subconscious.

“Catch him,” Riz says, giving up on untying the knots. He pulls a dagger from his boot and starts to saw at the rope, instead. “Make sure he doesn’t hit his head.”

The girls position themselves under Gorgug, ready to take on his weight. Riz wonders where Fabian is but he keeps his eyes on the rope, sawing diligently.

Finally, with an audible snap, the rope splits and Gorgug falls. He’s cradled by the girls and lowered gently to the ground. Riz stays in the tree, though, and thinks.

They failed Gorgug by letting him stay here, bleeding out, for so long. They didn’t notice that the person cohabitating with them for almost a week wasn’t one of their closest friends. Riz wonders how it would feel to be in Gorgug position. He thinks he’d be mad, upset, and certainly offended. He’d feel betrayed.

Gorgug is a good, kind person, but Riz wouldn’t blame him for being angry with the rest of them. He would understand it.

“I hear monsters,” Fabian says from a few feet away, at the edge of the flesh mime’s eerie campsite. “It’s time to go.”

“We can’t carry him,” Fig points out. “We can’t go anywhere.”

“Then we defend him,” Fabian says, pressing his feet into the mud. “Weapons out, everyone.”

Riz nods tightly. He can’t make up for the past. But he can certainly look out for his friend now. He tucks his dagger back into his boot and draws his gun.

“Oh, yeah, this is an easy fix,” Gorgug says, tapping the engine with an artificer’s wrench. “I just have to replace the differential fluid and do a quick adjustment on the camshaft angle.” He nods casually. “Easy.”

“Oh,” Riz replies. “That’s good, the, uh… doppelganger told us it was broken for good.”

“And you didn’t realize he wasn’t me?” Gorgug asks with an easy smile. “I’m never going to let something stay broken for good.”

Riz blows out a slow breath. “Sorry, Gorgug. We should’ve known.”

Gorgug puts a hand on Riz’s shoulder and squeezes. “No, dude, it’s fine. I’m just joking around. I don’t blame you guys.”

“You should.”

Gorgug’s smile turns sad. “We’ve all let each other down before and we probably will again. It’s just a part of an adventurer’s life, I think. I don’t think holding it against any of you is productive, you know? Sure, I was kidnapped for a while. To be honest, I barely remember it. I think I was unconscious most of the time.”

“That doesn’t—that doesn’t excuse what we did.”

“No, it probably doesn’t,” Gorgug admits and Riz cringes. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t forgive you anyway.”

Riz nods. If he really thinks about it, he wouldn’t have expected anything less from Gorgug.

“You’re a good guy, you know,” Riz insists. “I don’t think all of us would feel the same way about this as you do.”

“Then I’m glad I was the one kidnapped,” Gorgug says, voice earnest. He turns back to the engine and starts to unscrew the cap on a pipe. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

“You have no idea how much I’d love to do that.”

“And after we get the van fixed, I wanted to talk to you about your arquebus. How would you feel about upgrading it to a Sun Gun?”

Riz smiles widely.

“I can’t say no to an upgrade.”

Chapter Text

Riz leans around the passenger seat so he can see the other Bad Kids, sprawled out across the back of the van.

“I want to research gods that worship the sun.”

“No, gods that worship the night.”

“We can’t keep having this argument,” Kristen complains, pressing her cheek against the window. Her cheek squishes, closing one of her eyes. “We’re splitting up. I’m making the call.”

“I still don’t love the idea of splitting up,” Adaine says nervously. Riz sighs.

“I don’t think we have the luxury of going slow anymore,” he says, rubbing his jaw. At some point this summer, he started growing fuzzy, sparse facial hair and it constantly itches. He wishes there was a spell that would keep his face clean-shaven. Either that or he’s going to have to ask Fabian to teach him how to shave which seems mortifying.

He scratches his face. Maybe mortified is better than itchy.

“Riz is right,” Fig says, feet planted on the window of the van. Her head is hanging off the backseat’s bench and Riz can’t imagine her position is at all comfortable, but they’re all feeling a little restless. Fig has always been a fidgetter. The creative ways she finds to sit never cease to impress Riz. “It’s been two full months. We need to move faster.”

“Exactly.”

Riz idly plays with the pendant around his neck. It was a gift that he recently received from a young woman, Noxa, in the village of Pintevale which they passed through on their way into the Red Wastes. The Bad Kids helped her figure out who was stealing the clothes she hung out to dry in her backyard. The discovery that it was her ex-boyfriend was the last straw she needed to get rid of the gifts that he had given her throughout the years. She offered them to the Bad Kids as a thank-you for their help with the investigation.

Fig got a new pair of boots, heavy and maroon, Fabian got a leather wallet embroidered with red camellias, and Riz got this black-cord necklace.

“Let me Identify it for you,” Adaine insists once they get back to their tavern room.

“Is it magical?”

“It looks magical.”

Riz grins. “Fuck yes. Hit me.”

This is another use of the Identify spell. This necklace is known as the Pendant of Serenity. Using this necklace, the wearer can cast a modified version of Calm Emotions that works on a single target. The spell suppresses strong emotions in their target. The target must make a Charisma saving throw; a creature can choose to fail this saving throw if it wishes. If the target fails, any extreme emotions that they are feeling, such as fear, anger, or sadness, are muted to a gentle serenity.

“That’s, uh, useful, I guess,” Riz remarks.

“You never know, Riz, it might come in handy.”

“The best way to move faster is to split up,” Fig insists. “Even in groups of three, we’ll still be the most powerful parties of sixteen year olds in all of Spyre—”

“I’m seventeen,” Fabian corrects.

“—sixteen and seventeen year olds, then.”

“I’m seventeen, too,” Kristen says quietly, mouth still squished against the window. “It was my birthday last week.”

“What?” Riz asks, mouth dropping open. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Kristen rolls down her window, letting it pull her face down a few inches before pulling her cheek away from the glass. “I don’t know. No one remembered and, uh, we had other things we were dealing with. The apocalypse kinda takes first priority, you know?”

Kristen looks unbothered, waving her hand absently through the air, but Riz, rolling an Insight check, can see that she is hiding deeper emotions past the façade of nonchalance.

“I’m sorry, Kristen,” Gorgug says from the driver’s seat. “We should’ve remembered.”

“Nah, it’s no biggie,” Kristen says. “We haven’t exactly been checking our calendars.”

Riz frowns. He turns to Adaine and subtly signs, Message, to her, grateful that World Languages taught them Common Sign Language in its sophomore year curriculum.

“What?” Adaine asks him telepathically.

“We need to throw her a party.”

“Won’t she think it’s out of pity at this point?”

“Better a pity party than no party at all.” He quickly looks away from Adaine, hiding their conversation. He catches a flash of recognition from Fig and mouths, later, to her. She gives him a tiny nod in return.

“Anyway, I vote we split up. Dibs on Gorgug, though,” Kristen goes on.

“The two strongest people in one party?” Fabian says, raising an eyebrow.

Kristen grins widely. “Thank you for noticing,” she says, flexing her muscles. “This is the summer of getting yoked, for sure.” Riz chuckles, glad to see Kristen distracted so quickly from her birthday blues. “How about Gorgug, Adaine, and me?”

“That seems like a decent party comp to me,” Riz replies, running through the possible breakdowns of their group. Splitting up the healers is important. At least one person with a heavy damage output on each team. A frontline fighter should be in each group. It’s a good split, he decides. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“The Ball, Fig, and me?” Fabian asks. Riz nods. “I suppose it’ll do.”

Fig removes her feet from the window to aim a kick at Fabian’s head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She shouts, laughing.

Fabian bats her foot away. “It means I’m stuck with two losers, obviously,” Fabian says, laughing through the words.

“Rude! Unfair and untrue.” Fig keeps kicking at him until Fabian grabs her ankles. “I’m in a party with an asshole!” She cries. “I demand a recomp.”

Riz laughs. Send help, he mouths to Adaine. She giggles.

“No fighting in the van,” Gorgug says, voice firm but with an undercurrent of humor.

“Pull over, then, I wanna fight Fabian,” Fig insists.

“What? No!” Fabian protests. “What did I do?”

It isn’t long until the entire van is laughing. Riz dodges arms and legs kicked out from the various Bad Kids, before giving up and climbing into the backseat so he can get in on the fun.

“Don’t make me turn this van around,” Gorgug warns from the front seat, making everyone dissolve into more laughter.

It’s nice. It’s a nice break from the stress and the fear. Riz dodges under Fig’s bare foot by an inch and slaps Kristen’s hand out of the air as it comes flying at his face. He catches Fabian’s eye, looking like a tiger about to pounce, and Riz jumps out of the way, flinging himself into Adaine’s lap to avoid Fabian’s lunge.

He can’t remember what started the fight. He can’t remember how it ends, either. At some point, he realizes that they’ve just dissolved back into casual conversation, having gotten their energy out.

He smiles.

At least, in an apocalypse, they all still have each other.

“Welcome, everyone, to the Chapel of Eternal Light,” the priest says, beginning the service.

Riz, Fig, and Fabian are huddled together in the last pew of the church. Riz feels entirely out of place. He doesn’t think he’s ever been inside a church before and he doesn’t know how to act. Is he supposed to stand? Sit? Kneel? Will he be expected to sing? He’s suddenly filled with fear that everyone around him is about to burst into a song that he doesn’t know the words to.

“I see some new faces today,” the priest goes on, voice smooth. She looks directly into Riz’s eyes and he wants to cower into Fig’s side and hide from her gaze. It’s not piercing or hostile, quite the opposite. It’s welcoming and warm.

It scares Riz for some reason. He’s not used to being welcomed somewhere.

“I want to welcome every one of you, whether you’ve come to these services for years or it’s your first time. It’s a pleasure to spend time with other worshippers of the Light. You may worship Lathander, Pelor, Re, or any other gods. No matter what, you are welcome here, amongst our worshippers. In these dark and dangerous times, our belief in the Light is more important than ever. The Light has not left us and it never will. We must stay strong, knowing that the darkness will soon abate. In time, we will see the sun again. In time, we will be warmed by the Light once more.”

Riz, surprisingly, feels encouraged by this priest’s words. Maybe it’s a result of hearing someone speak optimistically, something that’s become a rare occurrence in these past couple of months. Still, listening to this priest’s service, he feels a small degree of optimism in his own chest.

He wonders if this is why people go to church.

“It’s been sixty-three days since the sun was blotted out by an unknown force,” the priest continues. “For many of us, that means sixty-three days of fear. I don’t blame those of you who are afraid. It’s hard to feel confident about things returning to normal when we don’t even know what caused the Darkness.”

Riz wrings his hands together. He wonders if they should be telling more people about the cause of this age of darkness or if they are better off keeping the Night Yorb a secret. Does it even matter? Would telling a random citizen, oh, by the way, an eldritch beast caused this, make them feel any less afraid? Riz doubts it.

“But, what I’ve seen in this Darkness, is something very special from people around me. When I look carefully, I can see my fellow community members being a Light for others. I see them helping their neighbors without darkvision. I see them bringing each other meals made up of cured meats and dried fruits. I see that we are helping each other up when we stumble. It’s inspiring and heartwarming and that, my friends, is the Light at work. It remains inside all of us, even when we can’t see it in the sky.

“I want you all to keep that in mind.”

Riz nods along with the other church members, hoping to blend in.

“Now, it is time for a fellowship amongst the faithful. Please, introduce yourself to your neighbors and thank them for their presence here, today, with you.”

Riz freezes. He didn’t know that church was interactive.

“Fig,” he says, turning to her. Next to him, though, isn’t Fig but a tall, white haired human with wrinkles around her eyes and a soft smile on her face. “Oh, Fig, come on.”

“Who’s Fig?” The woman warbles, voice unsteady. “I’m just a simple old woman, uh, Henrietta.”

Riz wants to tell Fig to drop the disguise and help him get through this next moment but before he can get another word out, the worshiper in the pew in front of him turns around with a crooked smile on his face.

“Faithful, it’s great to share this space with you,” a man with silver hair says, shaking Fabian’s hand. He moves down the line to Riz, who repeats his words, hoping that it’s the right thing to say. “I haven’t seen the three of you at this church before. Where, if you don’t mind me asking, did you come from?”

Riz, realizing that his party did not decide if they needed a cover story or not before walking into church, looks to Fabian with wide eyes. Fabian puts on a charming smile and speaks up. “Elmville, sir. We’re students at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy.”

Riz blows out a sigh of relief, glad he won’t have to maintain any sort of lie.

“Students, huh?” The man asks, looking at Fig. “Held back a few years, sweetheart?”

Fig nails Fabian with a piercing glare and drops her disguise with a puff of smoke. “You caught me. Just having some fun.”

“Hey, don’t stop on my account. I’m never one to say no to a little fun, especially in times like these. We all need a break sometimes, you hear me? Anyway, it’s good to meet you kids. The name’s Balthazar, worshiper of Lathander. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Riz Gukgak, uh, unsure about who to worship,” Riz says awkwardly. He cringes at the words as they leave his mouth. He doubts many people walk into a church just to declare themselves a non-believer but here he is, sticking his foot firmly in his own mouth.

Balthazar laughs. “Is that right? Well, as long as you don’t worship that damn Night Yorb, you’re alright in my book.”

Riz drops to the ground like his strings are cut. His knees crack on the pale, wood floor, but the pain that blossoms from them doesn’t hold a candle to the agony centered in his chest.

“Woah, hey now, is your buddy alright?” He hears Balthazar’s voice but Riz can’t see anything but the backs of his eyelids as he squeezes them shut, trying to block out the pain that pulses through him. “Is it something I said?”

Riz feels Fig’s hand squeeze his shoulder, claws lightly scratching his arm, as he hears Fabian speak. “It’s a long story. I think, if you don’t mind, that we should talk after the service. It sounds like we might have some information worth exchanging.”

“Now, that’s a crazy story if I’ve ever heard one,” Balthazar says, running a hand through his hair, wavy and artfully messy. “I know a thing or two about the Nig—sorry, the Thing but I didn’t know who summoned it this time around.”

“This time?”

“I’m older than I may look, and that’s all I’ll say about that.”

Riz tries his best not to be curious. Balthazar seems like a good guy. It wouldn’t do them any good if Riz scared him off, trying to investigate their new ally too aggressively. “Listen, Balthazar, we told you everything we know. But what do you know?”

“Damn, you’re not wasting any time pussyfooting around, are you?”

“Got things to do, man.”

Balthazar chuckles. “I like this kid. He’s got spunk.” A smile quirks the corner of Riz’s mouth. He likes Balthazar, he does. It feels good to have his approval. The approval of someone who doesn’t know Riz for who he has been, only who he currently is. Maybe he can reinvent himself, at least around Balthazar. But who would he become? A real guys-guy? A gadget guy? A cool guy, maybe?

No, that was a step too far.

“C’mon, dude. Give us your intel,” Riz pushes.

“Alright, alright, let’s talk details.” Balthazar leans back in his soft, red armchair. He had told the Bad Kids, prying ears might be listening, and drove them back to his place, a small cabin on the edge of the Red Wastes. He stoked the fireplace and lit a cigar before asking for their side of the story. “The Ni—the Thing has a loyal band of followers, hundreds in the Red Wastes alone, I’d say. They spread themselves thin across a handful of churches. I know of the Chapel of Eternal Darkness and the Choir of Unending Night, personally, but I’m sure there’s more. There are Yorbies hidden in plain sight, too. I know of two who go to my church, can you believe that?”

Riz shakes his head. “What would Yorbies be doing at a church worshiping the Light?”

“Same thing I’m doing when I follow them home, I suppose,” Balthazar smirks. “Collecting information. And if they find the churches of Light Domain deities to be worth investigating, that means that they think we’re a threat. Which is great news, right?” Balthazar drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. “If only I knew what they were so afraid of.”

“I bet, if they’re scared of Clerics of the Light, that means the Thing is weak to radiant damage, too,” Riz says, tapping his lips with the back of his pen. “Not just solar energy. That’ll be useful to know once we find it.”

“You’re looking for the Thing? Boy howdy, do you kids have some balls on you or what?”

Fabian smiles. “We’re going to find it and we’re going to stop it. Just you wait and see.”

“Oh, hell no. I won’t be waiting and I certainly won’t be watching from the sidelines. I’m going to be a part of this fight, and there’ll be no telling me otherwise.” Balthazar grips the armchair tightly. “I’ve got some kids, of a sort, who deserve long, long lives and I don’t like their chances living in this world. This Thing needs to be stopped and I plan on being a part of that. You get me?”

Riz nods eagerly. “Got it, man. Welcome to the team.”

Fabian casually drops his hand next to Riz’s and traces Trust Him in Thieves’ Cant and a question mark on his skin. Riz pauses. Maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to trust this stranger but it was such a relief to find an ally in a world that has felt so hostile for these past couple months. But Balthazar seems trustworthy. He offered them the information he had. He seemed eager to get involved with the plan. Did that make him a fellow fighter of the Night Yorb? Or an undercover Yorbie, trying to infiltrate their work?

“Listen, if we’re on the same side here—which it sounds like we are—you wouldn’t mind if I just… verified that, would you?” Riz chuckles nervously. “I mean, you’re a cool guy. We trust you, obviously, it’s just that we, uh, have to be careful in this line of work. That’s all. Nothing against you, like, personally.”

“The Ball, shut up,” Fabian whispers, cutting off Riz’s rambling.

Balthazar’s smile stays warm and friendly. “Hey, listen, I get it. Why don’t you make sure to include yourself in that Zone, though,” he says, understanding what Riz was getting at, “so  I’ll be able to verify that you’re all who you say you are, too?”

Riz nods. “Sounds fair.” He spins the ring on his right hand in two counterclockwise circles until a ball of orange light emerges. He holds it in his hands, cupping it gently, and then spikes it at the floor in between the four of them. Riz feels himself fail his Charisma check, then gets the sense that Fig and Balthazar both failed theirs, too. He notices that Fabian passes his save and Riz gives him a curious look. He would’ve expected the members of his party to all voluntarily fail the save but Riz supposes that Fabian has something he rather keep under wraps. He reminds himself to ask Fabian about it later.

“Are you kids really trying to stop the Night—Thing?” Balthazar asks, taking a drag from his cigar.

“Yes,” Riz insists. “Are you?”

“You better believe it. Are you confident that you can stop it?”

Three voices overlap, two no’s and a yes, from the couch. Fabian raises his eyebrow at Fig. “You’re confident?”

“Obviously. It’s us.”

Riz interrupts. “I’m not confident yet, Balthazar, but I’m getting there. We have a weapon, we have a binding sigil, we have the tools we need to beat it. We just need to put them together and we need to find it.”

“Hey, I get it. I can’t say I’m particularly confident either, but I’ve been working mostly alone on this one. Working together seems like a step in the right direction to me.”

Riz nods, glad to have heard that under a Zone of Truth. It seems that he was right to trust Balthazar. The corner of his lips twitch up, feeling secure about his intuition. “Mostly alone?” He asks, making sure that his relief isn’t allowing him to let things slip through the cracks.

“I’ve got a partner-in-crime. His name is Duggan McCann.”

Riz does not like Duggan McCann.

Riz surprised even himself by telling Duggan that fact directly to his face. Duggan had laughed raucously and said, “I don’t particularly like snivelly little bastards like you, either, but you don’t hear me saying it out loud.”

Riz was too mad to point out the fact that Duggan very much did just say it out loud. He stormed off and used his Calm Emotions pendant on himself. He couldn’t handle stewing on the way that Duggan pissed him off for another second.

Fabian caught up with him outside the tavern, Duggan and the others still inside, and told Riz that Duggan was heading home for now. Riz nodded tightly, relieved to be rid of him. Maybe they’d need his help in the final battle but, until then, Riz would be glad not to waste another second thinking about Duggan McCann.

It’s a long night, after that, filled with traded stories, alcohol, and greasy bar food. When Riz wakes up the next morning, he regrets the fact that he let Fig convince him to chase whiskey with wolfberry-flavored gin.

“In what world,” he asks, groaning at the ceiling on Balthazar’s guest room, “is liquor meant to be chased by a different liquor?”

“What, did you not have fun last night?”

“Fig, I hardly remember last night; I don’t think I can answer that question with any degree of certainty.” Riz moans in pain from his hangover. At least he doesn’t have to worry about the photosensitivity part but, gods, the headache and the nausea feel like a death sentence.

“Can you both, please, shut up?” Fabian growls from the far side of the mattress. “Let’s just go back to sleep and wake up when the world doesn’t hurt anymore, alright?”

“We’ve got an apocalypse to stop, Fabey Baby,” Fig sings.

“Absolutely do not call me that under any circumstances.”

“No rest for the bringers-of-the-age-of-darkness, as they always say,” Fig insists. “Balthazar says there’s a cult of Yorbies that hole up in a nearby dungeon. Today’s our chance to get in there and, I dunno, kill ‘em? I wasn’t paying attention when he brought it up.”

“Interrogate them,” Riz corrects. “At this point, all we need is a location of the Thing. If we find the right Yorbies, they might be able to tell us where to start our hunt.” He can barely lift his head from his pillow, tired from stringing so many words together. “In an hour,” he bargains with Fig.

“In thirty minutes,” she retorts. “Gods. You guys are a couple of lightweights.”

Riz groans and buries his face back into his pillow.

“This way,” Balthazar says, beckoning the Bad Kids forward through twisted tunnels under the northern edge of the Blazing Bonai Dunes. Hidden behind the lush ferns of an oasis was the entrance to a set of tunnels, a quasi-dungeon, that Balthazar declares to be the home to a sect of Yorbies.

He doesn’t have much more information than that. No knowledge of how many Yorbies might collect here or how heavily armed they might be. With an abundance of caution, the party holds weapons in their hands, their belts, and their holsters. Balthazar carries a flintlock pistol in one hand and a grenade in the other as he leads the group.

Riz tries not to feel anxious about the way that he tosses and catches the grenade in the air idly, as if it’s nothing more than a juggling ball.

“Should we be watching out for traps?”

“I don’t know how smart these Yorbies are,” Balthazar drawls. “I’d take a not-so-wild guess that they’re probably feeling pretty overconfident right now. Hell, I would be if the deity I worshiped just emerged from the void and took over the realm. And if I were that overconfident, I don’t think I’d be thinking about people sneaking up on me.”

Riz twists his lips to the side and chews the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know if a not-so-wild guess is the smartest thing to go off when the stakes are so high. But he doesn’t want Balthazar to think of him as overly paranoid so he nods and says, “sure, man.”

Fabian gives him a quizzical look. Riz looks staunchly ahead.

“So, kids, it seems like you’ve seen a lot in your lives.”

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe,” Fig replies, sounding older than her sixteen years. She sighs so deeply that Riz is sure he’s about to watch her chest cave in.

“Try me,” Balthazar says, turning around and winking at Fig. “I’ve seen a lot.”

“Ever hear of the Nightmare King?” Fabian offers. When Balthazar shakes his head, Fabian goes on, stepping forward to walk alongside him. “Well, that’s because of us. If we hadn’t stopped him, uh, her—it’s complicated—then the world would’ve been taken over by his, shit, I mean her army. But the six of us—”

“And some of our friends,” Riz adds.

“And some of our parents.”

“Right, thank you, Fig. A group of us stopped the Nightmare King from ending the world, basically, just a few months ago. Before that, well, have you ever heard of Kalvaxus? The Emperor of the Re—”

“Stop!” Riz shouts. Fig skids to a stop, kicking up rocks that bounce onto the Glyph of Warding painted with blood onto the red, rocky ground. Balthazar and Fabian aren’t as lucky. Riz curses as each of them alight with electricity, bodies twitching as the arcane trap courses through their body. “Shit,” he says, his fingers and toes filling with blood, antsy with the desire to jump into action but knowing he can do nothing but stand still until the trap runs itself dry.

“Fuck,” Fig spits. “Idiots.”

The white-blue electricity finally fades and Balthazar and Fabian are left panting with exertion. “That ain’t very kind, young lady,” Balthazar says between heavy breaths.

Fig scowls. “I ain’t very kind,” she says, mimicking Balthazar’s accent. “And we’re all idiots, walking into a trap, like that. Fuck, we should’ve let Riz take the lead. He’s better at spotting this stuff.”

Riz doesn’t speak up because he knows the only words that could come out of his mouth would be no duh. He hadn’t wanted to protest, asking for the lead, when Balthazar was the one familiar with these tunnels but he should’ve insisted. Maybe then they could’ve avoided—

“What did the trap even do?” Fabian asks. “I don’t feel, uh, hurt.” His cheeks flush with blood and Riz rolls Insight. Fabian is mortified. Not just embarrassed but humiliated to have stepped into an obvious trap. Riz pulls his eyebrows together. It was a misstep, sure, but not the end of the world. Every Bad Kid has triggered a trap or two dozen in their day. This was just another day, another problem to solve. But Fabian looked like his world was ending.

Balthazar shrugs and continues to walk down the tunnel. “We’ll figure it out when we figure it out, I suppose.”

Riz scurries after him, noting that the blood on the floor burned black after the trap went off which he knows means that it’s gone inactive. He takes a position next to Balthazar this time and locks his eyes on the ground, watching for pressure plates, tripwires, and glyphs.

“We should be more careful,” Fabian says. “It’s… it’s dark. We never know what’s around the corner.”

Riz frowns and spins the dial on his Arcadian Watch, cranking up the Light cantrip that emits from it. “It’s fine, Fabian. Since when are you scared of the dark?”

“I’m not,” he replies forcefully. “We just don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into. It could be a cult meeting of a hundred Yorbies. There could be a purple worm in the next tunnel. Hells, there could be more traps, ones that’ll really fuck us up, this time. Aren’t you afraid?”

Riz tilts his head to the side. “You’re afraid?”

“Terrifie—no. I’m not,” Fabian says, rolling the worst Deception check Riz has ever seen. “I’m not.”

“You’re really messed up over something.”

“I’m not. I’m, uh, so normal, right now. All I’m saying is that we should be careful. Or we might all die,” Fabian says, shivering.

“Fabian,” Riz says, worry pouring out of his vocal chords as he speaks. “It’s okay if you’re afraid.”

“Stop it! Don’t pity me,” Fabian suddenly shouts. He’s angry, genuinely angry. Riz never sees Fabian like this. “Don’t, The Ball. I don’t need your fucking pity.”

Riz recoils. He can barely put thoughts together, let alone words. His best friend has never spoken to him like this before.

“Fabian, what the hell?” Fig asks.

“He needs to watch what he fucking says to me,” Fabian replies, anger boiling over the surface.

“Glass heart,” Balthazar declares.

“What the hell did you just say?”

“Glass Heart Curse. It’s a condition that a Glyph of Curses can inflict on someone. Their heart weakens, heightening every emotion that they feel to a ten out of ten. Maybe eleven, if this display is any indication,” Balthazar says, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Fabian says, stepping forward and sticking a finger into Balthazar’s chest.

“I ain’t laughing at you, kid. I’m laughing at myself. I pull a bunch of teenagers into this quest with me, thinking, ‘wow, I’m glad they’ve got their heads on their shoulders. These kids sure know how to keep it together in high stress situations.’ I wasn’t wrong, and yet, here I am. With an angsty teenager on my hands. Exactly what I didn’t want.”

“I’m not some angsty teenager,” Fabian says and his hand goes to his hip, gripping the hilt of Fandrangor.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Fig says, pushing her way in between the two. Fabian’s eye burns with a fury that doesn’t dim when he finds himself looking at his friend. “Fabian, this isn’t you.”

“Fabian,” Riz starts. He rubs the back of his neck with a hand anxiously. “Don’t start a fight.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, The Ball!” Fabian spins around, whipping out Fandrangor and holding it under Riz’s chin in a blink. Riz holds his breath.

“Okay,” Riz says slowly, raising his hands in the air slowly in submission. “Not gonna tell you what to do. Just gonna…” Riz trails off as he carefully creeps his hand towards his throat and presses his thumb hard into the pendant around his neck, casting Calm Emotions on Fabian.

Fabian deflates, arm going limp. His sword scratches Riz’s throat on its way down. He hisses in pain as he feels the shallow cut form.

Fig whispers a Healing Word that floats through the air into Riz’s skin, stitching him together.

“You okay, kid?”

“I’m fine,” Fabian says but, again, Riz can see embarrassment on his cheeks. This time, though, it makes a little more sense. “I feel fine now. Sorry, uh, about that.”

“Kid, it ain’t your fault. Coulda happened to anyone.”

“It didn’t happen to you,” Fabian says, lifting his head from the hole he was staring in the rocky ground. “What did happen to you?”

Balthazar shrugs. “Hey, we’ll find out when we find out.”

Riz grits his teeth. He hates living in the unknown. He wants all of the information so he can make a plan but, instead, he’s floating on a stormy sea with no idea which way is north, let alone which way he should sail.

He stands at the helm, nonetheless, and endures the storm.

The third or fourth time that Balthazar trips over his own feet, over a rock, over Riz’s tail, they decide that the Clumsy Footed Curse was, most likely, his affliction. Riz doesn’t love the idea of going into combat with someone who can’t stand on their own two feet, but they have no other option.

At least the Calm Emotions seems to be mellowing Fabian out. Though it is strange to see him without his usual level of animation, it’s far better than the alternative of a spitting mad Bad Kid.

Riz smiles, silently, to himself. His magic helped. It solved a problem, his own spell.

Pride burns in his chest like charcoal, a low simmering ember that warms him from the inside out.

“Shh,” Riz hisses, looking around the next corner. There’s an opening into a chamber that looks lived-in. Instead of rough rocky grounds, the floor is lined with cobblestones. There are torches hanging on the walls, casting orange-red light off the walls. The room is filled with a circle of small, flat-topped boulders, crowded around an unburning campfire.

A perfect meeting site for a cult.

Riz lowers himself into a crouch and signals for the others to do the same.

As Balthazar drops his center of gravity, he tips over, dropping his weapons to the ground in order to catch himself before smashing his face into the stone.

The grenade goes rolling down the tunnel, each bounce echoing through the cavern. Riz is reminded of the times that he’s snuck out of his room for a midnight bowl of cereal and dropped a spoon that always seemed to clatter for an unrealistic amount of time. The almost comically loud clanging—of the spoon and the grenade—resonates through the air, making it the only thing Riz can hear besides the pumping of blood in his ears.

“Well, that one’s my bad, kids.”

The party explodes into action. Riz sprints into the open cavern, diving behind a low boulder for partial cover and taking a shot at the lone cultist’s arm. They want him hurt, not dead.

Fig leaps from stone to stone, positioning herself for a powerful Shatter that makes the cultist’s bones shake. He tries to push himself to his feet but ends up falling to a knee. Fig grins wickedly and strums her guitar, winking at Fabian as he approaches.

Fabian, bolstered by the inspiration, jumps off a nearby stone chair and flies, foot outstretched, landing a perfect kick in the center of the cultist’s chest. He falls to the ground and Fabian steps forward to kneel on his chest, pinning the cultist to the ground.

“Yield,” he hisses.

“Never! I fight on for the Night Yorb!”

Riz crumples, seeing nothing but stars in his vision as the pain in chest overwhelms him. He hears the sound of Fabian’s voice, raised and firm, but can’t make out the words. He feels a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He can’t put two thoughts together to figure out who was with him, why they weren’t fighting on.

Painful seconds pass and Riz’s agony fades from his chest, letting him breathe again. He opens his eyes to meet Balthazar’s.

“You good, kid?”

Riz pants, catching his breath. “Never felt better,” he says, aiming for a joke and landing somewhere closer to bitter sarcasm. He’s sick of the power that the Night Yorb still holds over him. He can’t risk going into a final battle like this, able to be taken out of commission with just two words. He forces a smile onto his face and pushes himself to his feet, joining the other Bad Kids. Fig is playing a discordant tune on her guitar that grates at Riz’s ears.

“I’ll stop playing if you start talking,” she sing-songs. “Tell us where it is and we’ll let you live.”

Riz cocks his gun. “Go on,” he says. “Tell her. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“Where what is?”

“You know what!” Fabian says, digging the point of Fandrangor into the cultists’s left shoulder.

“The Nigh—”

Riz discharges his gun into the ground, an inch from the cultist’s head. “Yes. Don’t use its name.”

The cultist gets a look in his eye like he’s plotting something.

“Don’t you dare,” Fabian says. “You’ll lose your tongue if you even try it,” he warns, lifting Fandrangor to the cultist’s lips. “Got it?”

The cultist swallows and clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he whispers.

“Good,” Fig says cheerfully. “Now tell us where it is. Last chance before you learn what it feels like to get killed, revived, then killed again.”

“You’d revive me? Why?”

“Oh, just for fun,” she replies flippantly.

“I can’t tell you where it is—”

Riz cocks his gun again.

“—but I can tell you where it will be!”

He smiles. “Congratulations, man. You just saved your own life.”

“You were pretty quiet in there, Big B,” Fabian says, picking at his nails as he sits on the hood of Balthazar’s retro muscle car.

“I was impressed,” Balthazar responds. “You kids seem to know your way around an interrogation.”

“Wasn’t our first one,” Riz says.

Balthazar raises an eyebrow and sucks in a breath. “You three have lived a lotta life, haven’t you?”

Fabian shrugs. “We had to.”

Fig slides into the passenger seat and kicks her feet up on the dashboard. “We didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.”

“We did what we had to do,” Riz finishes.

The other Bad Kids get it. There are days when Riz certainly wonders if he’s closer to a bad person than a good one, but he knows that the six of them are not evil people. They’ve been put in some situations where they had to make tough choices to save lives, to save the world, that’s all. They had to grow up fast, to become adults with only sixteen—or seventeen—years of experience in this world.

The six of them have sharpened their teeth on the whetstone of life.

“It’s real impressive,” Balthazar says, looking carefully at each of them. He holds them in a tense silence for long, heavy seconds. Finally, he clears his throat and breaks it. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Riz asks.

Balthazar sighs. “Because you don’t know the answer to that question.”

It’s a long, dusty drive back to the rendezvous point to meet the other Bad Kids. Riz is glad that Balthazar’s hotrod has been modified for off-road desert driving, though he doesn’t quite understand how it works. He’s sure that Gorgug will be deep in the engine once he hears about the car’s abilities, trying to learn how to adapt the Hangvan with those same perks, but, for now, all Riz can think of is a nap.

He pulls himself out of the backseat and puts tired foot after tired foot on the streets of Pintevalle, dragging himself into the tavern-slash-inn.

“Are the others here?” He asks at the bar. The barkeep, Noxa’s father, nods, inclining his head towards their rooms. Riz thanks him, asks for a few mugs of water, and makes his way to his reunion with the other Bad Kids. It’s the first time in his life he’s gone more than a few days without seeing all five of his friends. He’s missed Kristen, Gorgug, and Adaine more than he imagined he would, spending the past couple of weeks feeling off-balance without them.

“Riz!” Kristen calls out excitedly, going in for a hug. Riz feels the water in his mugs splash onto his chest as she squeezes him tightly.

“The one and only,” he replies tiredly, then hands her a mug. He drains his own in three deep sips. He hasn’t gotten used to the desert yet; his throat is permanently dry and he feels a constant sense of dehydration pressing its claws into his chest. Or maybe that was the Night Yorb tattoo. It was hard to tell.

“We brought a friend,” Fabian says, striding into the small inn room. “An ally. Everyone, meet Balthazar, the only reason why we have any sort of useful information to report.”

Balthazar smirks. “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. I wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil these past few weeks.”

“Balthazar gave us the lead we needed to learn, get this,” Fig says, pausing for dramatic effect, “the location of the Thing!”

“No way!”

“Really?”

Riz nods. “In three days, it’ll be at the Windy Arches, right here in the Red Wastes.”

He falls back onto a mattress and closes his eyes, glad that he had good news to report.

“Oh, and we have another ally who’ll be meeting us there. His name’s Duggan McCann,” Fabian adds.

“Let’s do absolutely everything we can to not need his help,” Riz complains from the bed. “I do not like that man.”

Balthazar chuckles. “He’s an acquired taste.”

“We found an ally, too,” Gorgug says. “A cursebreaker. Her name’s Ecaf.”

Riz shoots up in bed, ears perking up.

Ecaf, who turns out to be a living mirror that reflects Riz’s image back at him, appears to perk up as well.

“Hello, uh, Ecaf,” Riz smiles eagerly. “Boy do I have a curse for you.” He taps the center of his chest with a claw.

“Well, boy do I have a way to break it,” she says, meeting his energy, speaking just as excitedly as he did. “Tell me about the curse.”

Riz quickly pulls out his notes, happy to report everything he knows about his reaction to the words “Night Yorb.” He’ll stay up all night, earning himself another level of exhaustion, if it means he’ll be able to hear the Night Yorb’s name without dissolving into agony. It’ll be worth the reassurance that he won’t be made useless in the final battle if a single Yorbie calls out the name of the beast they worship. He refuses to let himself be crippled by this inconvenience any longer.

Riz starts to feel something warm blooming in his chest. In this small room stuffed with the Bad Kids, Squeem, Balthazar, and Ecaf, he feels something he hasn’t felt in months.

He thinks about the solar lasso, his Sun Gun, the sigil, his new arcane accessories. He thinks about each of his friends who have kept their noses to the grindstone, toiling day and night to come up with any way to get an upper hand on the Night Yorb.

He thinks about how hard they’ve all been working and everything they have to show for it, almost three months later.

He thinks about all of that and he lets this foreign feeling warm him, inside-out.

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out.

It’s hope. The feeling is hope.