The lava river did not slow.
It tried to kill them.
There was a difference.
Xheavend had decided this approximately three seconds after the sheet of stolen metal dropped into the molten current and immediately began spinning like it regretted every decision that had led to its creation.
She clung to one chain with both hands.
Her black hair whipped across her face.
Heat tore at her skin.
The metal shrieked beneath them.
And beside her—
the stranger screamed.
Not a dignified scream.
Not a warrior's battle cry.
A scream.
Xheavend stared at him.
He stared back.
"I'M FINE!"
"I DIDN'T ASK!"
"GOOD!"
The raft slammed sideways into a wall of black stone.
Sparks erupted.
Xheavend's teeth clicked together.
The silver fabric stretched beneath the metal flared brilliantly, and the lava touching it seemed to forget what it was supposed to do.
Instead of swallowing them—
the molten rock divided around them.
Xheavend looked down.
That cloak.
She still didn't understand it.
The stranger wore it as though it were simply clothing.
It wasn't.
Nothing that made reality stop noticing someone could possibly be simply clothing.
And neither was the thing inside him.
The Old One.
Xheavend had started thinking of the second presence that way without deciding to.
Only inside her head.
Never aloud.
The stranger was easier.
Not safe.
Not yet.
But easier.
He complained.
He made bad decisions.
He yelled at magical books.
He had ridden some enormous eyeless animal through Yeitshoja while apparently covered in dung.
He had also fought Yzer's soldiers.
He had stood between her and the Warden.
He had not touched her when she didn't want him to.
When she froze—
he stopped.
When she said she could walk—
he believed her.
Friend.
The thought still felt dangerous.
So she didn't look at it too closely.
The Old One was different.
She could feel him behind Friend's thoughts.
Ancient.
Silent.
Heavy.
Not old like Father.
Not old like buildings.
Not even old like mountains.
Old in a way that made the word useless.
End noticed him too.
That bothered her.
End had been loud ever since they entered the lava tunnels.
Not speaking constantly.
Watching.
Reacting.
Shifting beneath her skin whenever the Old One moved.
Four presences.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
All aware.
All listening.
And then—
another voice slid through her blood.
Warm.
Pleasant.
Wrong.
You keep becoming more interesting, Pet.
Xheavend's entire body locked.
The lava continued roaring around them.
Friend shouted something.
She didn't hear him.
Because Yzer was inside her again.
Not truly inside.
That thought made her stomach twist.
His blood.
His road.
His connection.
The thing he had forced into her arm.
Who knew you had such a powerful ally?
Xheavend squeezed the chain harder.
Her fingers hurt.
Good.
Pain meant here.
Lava.
Chain.
Raft.
Friend.
Not cage.
Not Yzer.
Do you even know who you're traveling with?
She refused to answer.
She didn't speak to him.
She wouldn't.
The old thing inside your little stranger...
Yzer sounded amused.
...is something every universe fears.
End moved.
Violently.
The four presences folded closer around Xheavend.
Fragments admire him.
Her heart beat faster.
Friend?
No.
Not Friend.
The Old One.
Though I cannot be certain.
A pause.
He is very good at being unseen.
The blood-link pulsed.
And no one has seen him properly since the First Universe.
An image forced itself behind Xheavend's eyes.
A man.
She couldn't see his face clearly.
Darkness obscured most of him.
Purple eyes burned through it.
Not lavender.
Not Yzer.
Purple.
The same shade that sometimes appeared when the Old One looked through Friend's body.
Behind the figure—
nothing.
Not darkness.
Nothing.
An absence so complete that stars seemed terrified to exist near it.
Xheavend's breath caught.
She knew him.
Not his name.
Not what he was.
But she knew.
The Old One.
Standing alone.
Something vast behind him.
Something that made entire worlds look small.
Yzer's voice softened.
You really don't know who you've found, do you?
Xheavend's stomach dropped.
No.
She didn't.
She didn't know Friend either.
Not truly.
Didn't know where he came from.
Didn't know why the Book wanted him here.
Didn't know why End recognized the Old One.
Didn't know why the Old One looked at her sometimes with grief that didn't make sense.
She knew nothing.
And that realization struck at exactly the wrong moment.
You will never be free of me, Pet.
The image changed.
Yzer.
Standing inside her thoughts.
Not physically.
But close enough that Xheavend nearly recoiled from the chain.
His silvery-white hair fell around his shoulders.
Lavender eyes watched her.
Smiling.
As long as I breathe...
He stepped closer.
...I will be your living nightmare.
Xheavend shook her head.
No.
You can run.
His smile widened.
You can hide.
The blood in her arm burned.
You can crawl into another universe.
Her throat tightened.
You can surround yourself with gods.
The image of the purple-eyed Old One appeared beside him.
Yzer's expression hardened.
Only slightly.
It won't matter.
He looked at Xheavend again.
I will find you.
Her breathing shortened.
You will never feel safe.
No.
And if anyone interferes with what belongs to us...
His face remained gentle.
That was always the worst part.
...I will kill them.
Friend.
Stevão.
Xima.
Her brothers.
Mother.
Father.
The thought came so fast Xheavend almost screamed.
All of them.
Yzer leaned close enough that she imagined feeling his breath.
You are mine, Pet.
Her stomach turned.
And you always will be.
Something inside Xheavend snapped.
Not her.
End.
The four presences surged.
The blood-link recoiled.
And from somewhere beneath Xheavend's thoughts—
End answered.
Not with her voice.
Not fully.
NO.
The image of Yzer flickered.
His smile vanished.
SHE IS NOT.
Death rose.
Famine coiled.
War burned.
Conquest unfolded its shadow.
Yzer's presence sharpened.
For one second—
Xheavend felt his surprise.
Then delight.
There you are.
End growled.
Not like an animal.
Like the final sound a universe made before disappearing.
The image shattered.
Xheavend gasped.
The lava river came rushing back.
Heat.
Noise.
Metal.
Friend shouting.
"LEFT!"
"What?!"
His eyes had gone purple.
No.
Not his eyes.
The Old One.
Left.
Xheavend heard the voice this time.
Not through her ears.
Inside the same strange place where End lived.
Friend yanked the chain.
The raft tilted.
Xheavend barely had time to grab tighter before the lava beneath them swelled.
Something erupted from the river.
Huge.
Long.
Covered in obsidian plates glowing red between the cracks.
Its head split into three jaws.
Dozens of narrow limbs clawed at the air.
Xheavend screamed.
The creature lunged.
Friend grabbed the back of her cloak.
Pulled.
Xheavend hit the raft flat.
Three burning jaws snapped through the space where her head had been.
Heat scorched the air.
The creature crashed back into the river.
Molten rock exploded over them.
The silver cloak flashed.
The lava split.
Then they dropped.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Xheavend squeezed her eyes shut.
She hated this.
She hated all of it.
Yzer.
The fortress.
The Labyrinth.
End.
The dead.
The monsters.
The fact that she couldn't tell which danger mattered most.
Why her?
Why had she followed those voices?
Why had she ignored End?
No.
That wasn't right.
End had told her not to leave the inn.
She had ignored them.
If she had stayed—
would she still be with Tavran?
Would she be asleep somewhere safe?
Would Father be correcting her stance tomorrow?
Would Mother be pretending she hadn't hidden something embarrassing inside her birthday gift?
Would Varin be planning something stupid?
Would Rezorin act like he hadn't brought her anything before producing the most carefully selected present imaginable?
Would Icardà make everyone stop fighting long enough to eat?
Would Tavran hover until she yelled at him?
She swallowed.
She had been stupid.
So stupid.
She had heard dead people begging for help and thought—
I can fix it.
She hadn't even told anyone.
She'd jumped from a balcony.
Run into Hellbound.
Followed strangers.
Followed corpses.
And now Yzer had put his blood inside her.
Maybe—
maybe this was her fault.
The thought cut deeper than the heat.
No.
End.
One voice this time.
Not four.
Xheavend opened her eyes.
The raft spun violently.
Friend was shouting something about his face.
She barely heard him.
No.
End repeated.
Xheavend clenched her jaw.
"You told me to stay."
Friend glanced toward her.
"What?"
"Nothing!"
He looked concerned.
She hated that too.
Concern meant people could get hurt because of her.
End pushed closer.
You chose to help.
Xheavend didn't answer.
He chose to harm.
Her fingers tightened.
Those are not the same.
The words remained.
She didn't know whether she believed them.
Not yet.
But she wanted to.
The raft shot from the lava chute.
Metal slammed into stone.
Friend flew forward.
Rolled.
Hit a glowing mushroom.
Xheavend struck the ground too—
but managed not to crash into vegetation.
Barely.
She sat there.
Breathing.
Alive.
Then looked toward Friend.
He groaned.
"I am beginning to develop strong opinions about transportation."
Xheavend stared.
"You screamed louder than me."
"I was being tactical."
"You screamed 'not my face.'"
He looked personally offended.
"That was a tactical priority."
Something inside Xheavend almost laughed.
It hurt.
She didn't let it out.
Not yet.
Then she looked around.
And everything else disappeared.
The cavern was beautiful.
Actually beautiful.
That felt wrong.
The Labyrinth was supposed to be horrible.
Everything here should have been horrible.
Instead—
glowing vines hung from a ceiling too high to see.
Massive roots twisted through stone.
Mushrooms taller than houses shone turquoise and blue.
Waterfalls fell through darkness and crashed into pools beside rivers of lava.
Mist drifted through giant ferns.
Tiny glowing insects floated like stars.
Ancient ruins stood half-swallowed by vegetation.
Lava moved through the cavern in glowing orange veins.
Xheavend forgot Yzer for three breaths.
"It's... pretty."
Friend blinked.
"That was not the word I was expecting."
She ignored him.
Something inside her loosened.
Then she remembered she wasn't safe.
The feeling vanished.
She scanned.
Left.
Right.
Water.
High ground.
Two bridges.
Three collapsed towers.
Multiple places something could hide.
Too many exits.
Not enough known routes.
Father would tell her to slow down.
Information before movement.
She hated that his voice was only memory right now.
Friend pulled the silver cloak free from the ruined raft.
The moment he wrapped it around himself—
he faded.
Xheavend's stomach dropped.
Not gone.
But almost.
Her attention slid from him.
The cavern seemed to forget he existed.
No.
She didn't like that.
Not now.
Not after Yzer's voice.
Not after being told nobody was safe.
Not after watching Tavran disappear through a closing portal.
Xheavend folded her arms.
"I don't like it."
Friend looked down.
"The cave?"
"The cloak."
He stopped.
"When you wear it like that..."
She hated how small her voice sounded.
"You feel gone."
Silence.
Why had she said that?
Stupid.
Never tell people what frightened you.
Father had taught her better.
No—
Father taught her to recognize danger.
He had never told her to become stone.
Still.
She wished she could swallow the words.
Friend didn't laugh.
Didn't tease.
Didn't ask why.
He simply reached up.
Loosened the cloak.
Pulled back the hood.
Adjusted the silver fabric until the strange pressure changed.
His presence returned.
Not entirely.
But enough.
The air remembered him.
Xheavend stared.
There.
Friend.
Her chest eased.
Just a little.
"There you are."
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Friend went strangely still.
The Old One did too.
Why?
Xheavend didn't know.
Friend muttered something.
The Old One answered.
Friend's expression changed.
"Did you just compliment me?"
Silence.
"You did."
More silence.
"I am taking it back."
Xheavend blinked.
"Are you arguing?"
Friend looked at her.
"Always."
She nodded.
"As long as I know where you are."
There.
She had done it again.
Said too much.
Friend stared at her.
Not pity.
Good.
She hated pity.
Something else.
Sadness?
Why was he sad?
She didn't know.
She didn't know anything.
That problem was becoming irritating.
Xheavend looked at him.
Then deeper.
The Old One.
Two presences.
One body.
Her curiosity won.
"There are two of you."
Friend stilled.
"Yes."
"Both of you helped me."
Friend said nothing.
"But I still don't know either of your names."
The Old One immediately became louder inside Friend.
Not aloud.
Xheavend could feel the argument beginning.
Do not give our real names.
Little brother.
The words caught her attention.
Brother?
Friend and Old One were brothers?
That didn't make sense.
They didn't feel alike.
Not remotely.
We need to remain ghosts.
Friend nodded.
Then—
"You can call me Q."
The Old One became completely still.
Xheavend stared.
Q.
That was...
simple.
Small.
Easy.
She tested it.
"Q."
Friend smiled faintly.
"Easy to remember."
Xheavend looked deeper.
At the Old One.
"And him?"
Q's expression changed.
The Old One moved forward.
Not violently.
Xheavend immediately knew.
His spine straightened.
His breathing changed.
Even his face seemed older without changing shape.
The air grew heavier.
Purple appeared in his eyes.
So that was what it meant.
Purple.
Old One.
He lowered himself slightly until they were closer to the same height.
"You may call me Omen."
Xheavend stared.
Omen.
No.
That didn't fit.
Not exactly.
Her nose wrinkled.
"That doesn't sound right."
Somewhere behind those purple eyes—
Q laughed.
The Old One did not.
"What would you call me?"
Xheavend studied him.
Ancient.
Creepy.
Watching everything.
The kind of presence that made the world feel like it had received bad news.
"Grimm."
Q lost control of something internally.
She could feel the laughter.
The Old One stared.
"No."
"It fits."
"Grimm is a title belonging to one being."
Xheavend pouted.
She didn't care.
"It still fits."
"No."
His voice became very serious.
"You will call me Omen."
She stared at him.
Old One.
Omen.
Fine.
"Omen."
He seemed satisfied.
Then Q returned.
Xheavend knew immediately.
Purple softened.
Posture changed.
Presence became less suffocating.
Q breathed in sharply.
She filed the difference away.
Important.
Q.
Omen.
Friend.
Old One.
The names didn't erase the private ones.
Those belonged to her.
She would keep those too.
Inside.
Where Yzer couldn't have them.
Hopefully.
The thought made her arm ache.
Her breathing changed.
Q noticed.
Of course he did.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
He stared.
Xheavend lifted her chin.
He let it go.
Good.
Because she wasn't ready to tell him what Yzer had said.
That Omen might be something universes feared.
That Fragments admired him.
That he had not been seen since the First Universe.
That Yzer was interested.
Interested was dangerous.
Interest became attention.
Attention became possession.
No.
She would watch them both.
If Q became like Yzer—
she would kill him.
The thought hurt.
That was stupid.
She barely knew him.
Why should it hurt?
Because he had been kind.
Kindness could be fake.
Yzer was kind.
Yzer smiled.
Yzer called imprisonment protection.
So kindness meant nothing.
Actions.
Father always said actions.
Watch what someone does when they don't get what they want.
Q had wanted her to stay safe.
She didn't.
He hadn't forced her.
Q wanted her to trust him.
She didn't.
He hadn't punished her.
Good.
Not safe.
But good.
For now.
She could work with for now.
"What about Goro?" she asked.
Q's expression shifted.
"No idea where he is."
The Book beneath his arm rustled.
Q glared at it.
"But apparently he's somewhere in this Labyrinth."
The stitched cover twitched.
"Do not start."
Xheavend looked away before he noticed she almost smiled.
Four tunnels waited ahead.
Blue flame.
Green.
Red.
White.
She stopped.
Directions.
Wonderful.
She had already decided directions were one of existence's crueler inventions.
Q stared at the paths.
"Well. Wonderful. Four terrible choices."
End moved.
Not warning.
Pulling.
Xheavend turned toward the white flame.
The dead stood there.
Dozens.
She hadn't noticed them arriving.
A woman with half her throat missing.
An old man carrying his own hand.
A child whose face looked strangely peaceful despite the hole through his chest.
They watched her.
Not Q.
Her.
The woman pointed.
White.
The child whispered—
Please.
Xheavend swallowed.
End immediately became loud.
Careful.
"I know."
Q turned.
"What?"
She ignored him.
The dead moved toward the white path.
One after another.
Do not trust all who call.
End.
Xheavend frowned.
"They helped me before."
Some did.
That answer frightened her.
Not all dead were safe?
Of course not.
Why would anything be simple?
The child looked back.
Please.
Xheavend stepped toward the white torch.
"This way."
Q frowned.
"How do you know?"
Xheavend pointed.
"They told me."
Q looked.
At absolutely nothing.
Of course.
He glanced inward.
Omen answered something.
Q looked less comfortable afterward.
"So we just follow the invisible wall people?"
Xheavend looked at the child.
"They said please."
Q stared at her.
"Well."
A pause.
"At least they have manners."
They entered.
The tunnel changed immediately.
Beauty disappeared behind them.
Stone narrowed.
Black moisture slid down the walls.
Roots crawled through cracks.
White fire burned without warmth.
Xheavend's chest tightened.
Wrong.
This place was wrong.
Not Yzer-wrong.
Different.
Predatory.
End crowded closer.
Something hunts here.
Xheavend already knew.
Chains scraped somewhere far ahead.
Slow.
Heavy.
Then—
click.
Click-click.
Her skin prickled.
The sound reminded her of tools.
Needles.
Metal touching metal.
She hated needles now.
Her arm burned.
Yzer's blood pulsed.
And his voice returned.
Still running, Pet?
Xheavend's heart slammed.
She kept walking.
Don't react.
Don't react.
Don't—
White flames.
He sounded amused.
Interesting choice.
How could he know?
No.
Maybe he didn't.
Maybe he could feel her fear and was guessing.
Don't give him information.
You really do keep walking toward monsters.
Her hands shook.
End snarled.
Ignore him.
Easy for End.
They didn't have his blood inside them.
Did they?
The thought came unbidden.
Xheavend immediately hated it.
Was End part of her?
Were they her?
Inside her?
Around her?
Could Yzer reach them through the blood?
Could he reach everything?
Would she ever be free?
Her throat tightened.
Why her?
Why had this happened?
There were two thousand universes.
Millions.
Billions.
Trillions of people.
Why did the dead speak to her?
Why did End live inside her?
Why had Yzer noticed her?
Why had she followed?
Why couldn't she just be nine?
Tomorrow—
ten.
If she survived.
Her chest hurt.
No.
Stop.
Fear could become useful.
Father had taught her.
Fear told you where danger was.
Mother taught her breathing.
Tavran taught her to slow down before panic made decisions.
Varin taught her that sometimes terror could be turned into momentum.
Rezorin taught precision.
Icardà taught patience.
Her family was not here.
But their lessons were.
Fine.
Then she wasn't alone.
Not completely.
Xheavend inhaled.
Slow.
One.
Two.
Held.
Released longer than she inhaled.
Again.
The panic didn't disappear.
That wasn't the point.
She took the fear.
Held it.
Changed it.
Not excitement exactly.
But close.
Energy.
Attention.
Power.
If everything here wanted to kill her—
then she would become difficult to kill.
If Q betrayed her—
she knew weapons.
If Omen betrayed her—
well.
That was a larger problem.
But Father always said:
If you cannot defeat the opponent yet, survive long enough to become the person who can.
She could do that.
She was good at surviving.
She hated that she was good at surviving.
Still useful.
The clicking stopped.
Xheavend stopped too.
Q glanced at her.
"What?"
She whispered,
"Something's here."
Chains moved overhead.
Xheavend looked up.
Hooks.
Hundreds.
Bones.
A ribcage.
A split skull.
An arm.
Her stomach twisted.
The dead walking beside her stopped.
Every one.
Then—
they vanished.
Xheavend's heart dropped.
"Wait."
Nothing.
No.
No, no—
The walls.
Scratches.
Thousands.
Deep gouges.
Tiny lines.
Words.
Q moved closer to one.
Xheavend read what she could.
DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU
Her breathing changed.
Another.
IT WEARS SKIN
Another.
THE DOCTOR LIES
Then lower.
Child-sized.
MOM?
Xheavend stared.
Something inside her cracked.
Mom.
Tomorrow she was supposed to see Mother.
She looked away.
A small red shoe lay ahead.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Children.
No bodies.
Just shoes.
Her throat closed.
Q touched something with his foot.
Looked down.
He went still too.
Xheavend whispered,
"Q..."
He turned.
She pointed.
The breathing came.
Wet.
Long.
Everywhere.
Q moved in front of her.
She hated that she was grateful.
A drop landed on his hand.
He looked up.
Xheavend already knew.
Something crawled across the ceiling.
A hand.
A hook.
Teeth.
Then nothing.
Darkness swallowed it.
Xheavend grabbed Q's coat.
Not because she trusted him.
Because her hand needed something.
Because if she let go, she might run.
And running—
The Book snapped open.
Purple light spilled across the tunnel.
Words formed.
DO NOT RUN.
Xheavend almost laughed.
Of course.
Of course the one thing every part of her wanted to do was exactly what she couldn't do.
Q muttered,
"Oh, NOW you explain things."
The chains moved.
Behind them.
The breathing answered ahead.
Surrounded.
Omen's voice hardened inside Q.
Do not move.
Q whispered,
"What?"
Do. Not. Move.
Xheavend froze willingly this time.
Not fear.
Choice.
Important difference.
A voice came from ahead.
"Little thing."
Her body reacted anyway.
A shiver.
Recognition.
Not of the voice.
The hunger.
She had heard it in dead memories.
The things prisoners feared in the corridors.
Another voice answered from behind.
Softer.
"She smells awake."
Xheavend's grip tightened.
The first creature stepped into the purple glow.
Huge.
Stitched.
Hooks through its body.
Human skin as an apron.
Its face split into four vertical jaws.
A living spinal weapon coiled around its arm.
Xheavend knew.
Not because she'd met it.
Because dead people had.
"Varkros."
Q didn't look away.
"You know him?"
"He hunts the corridors."
Varkros's jaws widened.
"And I eat what I catch."
Behind them—
click.
Xheavend turned.
Black physician's coat.
Smooth face.
Needle fingers.
Brass knuckles made from teeth.
Her stomach flipped.
"Malzareth."
The creature bowed.
"You remember me."
Not her memory.
The dead.
But Xheavend wasn't explaining that.
Q shifted sideways.
Between them.
Always between.
"Friends of Yzer?"
"No," Varkros answered.
Malzareth raised one needle.
"We are worse."
They explained.
Thrown here among the innocent.
Not innocent themselves.
Predators kept in the same cage as prey.
Xheavend felt something inside her change.
The fear stayed.
But underneath it—
anger.
Not loud.
Cold.
These things hunted trapped people.
Children.
Those shoes.
The dead.
The scratches.
Mom?
The white flames flickered.
Pink.
Red.
Black.
Q turned.
Xheavend heard Omen.
Careful.
End rose.
All four.
Louder than Yzer.
Louder than fear.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
The monsters looked at her.
Not Q.
Her.
Malzareth's interest sharpened.
Varkros's jaws twitched.
The blood-link burned.
And Yzer laughed inside her.
There.
Xheavend's skin crawled.
Show me.
No.
Show me what you are, Pet.
NO.
End pressed forward.
Xheavend didn't stop them.
Not this time.
The tunnel was full of predators.
Q was one person.
Omen was powerful.
But if she depended entirely on them—
then Yzer had already won.
Because Yzer wanted her helpless.
Wanted her needing someone stronger.
Wanted her convinced survival belonged to whoever controlled her.
No.
She had her family.
Even absent.
She had End.
Even frightening.
She had herself.
Even afraid.
Xheavend stepped out from behind Q.
He whispered her name.
She didn't look at him.
The aura came first.
Small.
Barely anything.
Plants died.
Mushrooms collapsed.
Moisture vanished.
Cold settled into lungs.
Varkros stopped.
Malzareth's needles clicked faster.
Xheavend could feel End opening.
Four seams of crimson-black light burned beneath her skin.
Center.
Left.
Right.
Back.
No blood.
No pain.
Not exactly.
Pressure.
Like doors inside her body unlocking.
Her left side hollowed.
Famine.
Her right burned.
War.
Her shadow crowned itself.
Conquest.
Cold passed through her center.
Death.
Xheavend remained inside.
Watching.
Feeling.
Still frightened.
Still herself.
That mattered.
End did not erase her.
They folded around her.
The four presences rose.
Varkros stepped backward.
Good.
Fear looked different when it belonged to someone else.
Malzareth tilted his head.
Bad.
Curiosity.
Xheavend knew dangerous curiosity now.
Yzer had taught her that.
End spoke through her.
"So you are the vile beings."
The voice came layered.
Xheavend's own beneath it.
Four others.
And something deeper.
Yzer went completely silent.
For the first time since his blood entered her—
silent.
That felt good.
The seams opened further.
Death appeared behind her.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
Not bodies.
Not fully.
Possibilities wearing shape.
The tunnel struggled around them.
Xheavend felt larger without growing.
Her shadow stretched.
Her hair lifted.
Her eyes remained hers.
One pink.
One red.
Varkros's weapon slowed.
Malzareth's needles retreated slightly.
End spoke.
"We have been here since the dawn of time."
Xheavend heard the words.
Didn't understand them.
"At the beginning."
Beginning.
The word hurt End.
Immediately.
Grief ripped through all four presences.
So violent Xheavend nearly gasped.
Beginning.
Again.
Who?
Why?
End continued.
"And we will remain until the end."
The four presences aligned.
"I am End."
Something beneath the Labyrinth moved.
Not near.
Deep.
Far.
A pressure.
An awareness.
Xheavend felt it.
So did Omen.
His presence sharpened.
The thing below had heard.
"And you are facing me."
Silence.
Then Varkros attacked.
Of course.
Xheavend almost felt offended.
He had been warned.
The chainsaw whip screamed.
Q moved.
Omen moved.
End moved first.
Xheavend raised one hand.
Famine touched the living weapon.
The spinning teeth slowed.
The bone cracked.
The trapped screams within it faded.
Starved.
Silent.
Varkros stared.
"What are you?"
End tilted Xheavend's head.
"Tsk, tsk."
A smile pulled at her mouth.
Xheavend didn't like it.
But she let it happen.
"You do not get the privilege of that answer."
The whip became ash.
Varkros charged.
War struck.
No touch.
No weapon.
Force.
He smashed into the wall.
Famine wrapped around him.
His strength vanished.
Death reached his knees.
He collapsed.
Xheavend watched.
Too much.
End—
too much.
Then Malzareth moved.
Fast.
Not toward her.
Q.
The brass knuckles struck his ribs.
Crack.
Xheavend screamed.
"Q!"
Needles entered his shoulder.
Black liquid followed.
Q froze.
His eyes went distant.
No.
No, no—
The Old One vanished deeper with him.
Xheavend felt both presences drop somewhere she couldn't follow.
Malzareth stepped away.
"You are awake enough to fight."
His smooth face tilted.
"And asleep enough to suffer."
Q swayed.
Xheavend tried to move.
Varkros caught her attention again.
Wrong.
End wanted him.
Q—
Q was hurt.
She had brought him here.
No.
Not again.
No one else gets hurt because of—
Stop.
End.
He is not gone.
Xheavend's breathing broke.
"How do you know?"
End did not answer.
Of course.
Malzareth watched Q.
Seconds passed.
Then—
Q inhaled.
Hard.
Blood ran from his nose.
His eyes focused.
Xheavend almost collapsed from relief.
Malzareth tilted his head.
"Interesting."
Q looked furious.
No.
Omen looked furious too.
Both.
Together.
"You should still be dreaming."
Q wiped blood from his face.
Malzareth stepped closer.
"What exactly are you?"
Something in Q changed.
Omen pressed beside him.
Not replacing.
Together.
Two voices came from one mouth.
"You made a mistake."
Malzareth stopped.
"You looked inside us."
The air thickened.
"You should have stayed ignorant."
Xheavend stared.
Purple flashed through Q's eyes.
Old One.
Friend.
Both.
The absent blade moved.
Malzareth's wrist vanished.
Then the other.
No blood.
No hands.
Gone.
The surgeon stumbled.
Omen's voice came through Q.
"Going after my host."
Host.
Xheavend filed the word away.
Not now.
Malzareth's face split open.
Teeth.
Hundreds.
"Who are you?"
Omen smiled through Q.
"You do not get the privilege either."
Then—
gone.
Malzareth vanished.
Completely.
Xheavend stared at the empty space.
That weapon frightened her.
Q frightened her.
Omen frightened her more.
And somewhere in her blood—
Yzer whispered.
See?
Xheavend went cold.
No one is safe.
She swallowed.
Not even your new little friend.
End snarled.
Enough.
Yzer laughed softly.
You think he won't hurt her?
No answer.
You think that old monster inside him cares?
Xheavend looked at Q.
Blood beneath his nose.
Breathing hard.
He had stepped between her and monsters.
Again.
Everyone wants something.
Yzer's voice softened.
At least I told you what I wanted.
Xheavend's stomach twisted.
That was a lie.
No.
Not exactly.
Worse.
A manipulation.
Father's lessons.
When someone gives you two bad choices and pretends they're the only ones—
they're controlling the question.
Yzer wanted her to choose:
Him—
or everyone else being dangerous too.
No.
Third choice.
Watch.
Learn.
Decide for herself.
Xheavend lifted her chin.
Yzer's presence hesitated.
She still didn't speak to him.
Didn't need to.
She looked at Q.
Friend.
Not safe.
But not Yzer.
That was enough for now.
Varkros crawled backward.
Xheavend turned.
End folded tighter.
Four presences.
One child.
He had eaten prisoners.
Hunted children.
Enjoyed fear.
The shoes.
The scratches.
Mom.
Xheavend's fear became something else.
Not excitement.
Not exactly.
But Father's lesson returned.
Fear is information.
Varin's voice joined it.
Then do something with it.
Fine.
Xheavend stepped forward.
"You fed on trapped people."
Varkros shook.
"You hunted the innocent."
He dragged himself backward.
"You liked fear."
No.
He tried speaking.
End answered for her.
Four voices.
One judgment.
"No."
Xheavend lifted her hand.
Cold moved.
Famine entered.
Varkros collapsed inward.
Stitched flesh dried.
Hooks dropped.
Death hollowed him.
War cracked what remained.
Conquest claimed the place where he had been.
Dust.
Only dust.
The tunnel fell silent.
Xheavend stood there.
Breathing.
The seams burned.
Too hot.
No.
Too cold.
Both.
End wasn't stopping.
"Enough."
The word was hers.
The four presences continued.
"Enough!"
They hesitated.
Xheavend pushed.
Her body.
Her choice.
Her fear.
Her power.
"Stop."
The seams dimmed.
Death withdrew.
Famine loosened.
War lowered its weapon.
Conquest's shadow folded.
Xheavend swayed.
The world tipped.
Q moved toward her.
She saw him coming.
For half a second—
Yzer's image replaced him.
Burgundy.
White gloves.
Lavender eyes.
Xheavend flinched.
Then—
Q stopped.
He didn't grab her.
Waited.
Her knees gave out anyway.
This time she let him catch her.
Because she chose it.
Important.
She fell against him.
Warm.
Real.
Not white gloves.
No needle.
Friend.
Her breathing came fast.
"What..."
Her voice shook.
"What happened?"
Q held her carefully.
Not tight.
"You protected yourself."
Xheavend shook her head.
"No."
Her fingers caught his sleeve.
"No, I didn't."
She had felt End.
The ancient smile.
The hunger.
The way Varkros disappeared.
What if End was a monster too?
What if she was?
Q looked at the dust.
Then at her.
Inside him, Omen became quiet.
Not frightening quiet.
Thinking.
Xheavend swallowed.
"Did I hurt you?"
Q looked down.
"No."
"Promise?"
Yzer whispered instantly.
He lies.
Xheavend flinched.
Q noticed.
Of course.
His voice stayed steady.
"Promise."
End remained silent.
No warning.
No disagreement.
Xheavend's eyes burned.
Tears.
Real ones.
She hated crying.
Hated it.
But she couldn't stop.
She pressed her face into Q's coat.
Just for a second.
Only because she was tired.
Not because she trusted him.
Not completely.
Not—
Friend.
Fine.
Maybe a little.
Somewhere inside Q—
Omen watched.
And inside her—
End watched Omen.
Neither attacked.
Neither retreated.
Xheavend didn't know why that comforted her.
It did.
The white flames returned.
One.
Then another.
The Book snapped open.
One word.
DEEPER.
Q stared.
"You have terrible timing."
Another word appeared.
GORAXIAN.
Goro.
The reason they were here.
The person the Book wanted them to find.
The person Omen seemed to know.
Xheavend wiped her face quickly before anyone could comment.
Q looked down.
"Ready?"
No.
Absolutely not.
She wanted Tavran.
She wanted Mother.
She wanted Father.
She wanted her room.
Her books.
Her birthday.
Wisper.
She wanted Yzer's blood out of her.
She wanted End to stop being a mystery.
She wanted monsters to stop existing.
She wanted to be nine for one more night.
But wanting didn't create exits.
She had to keep moving.
Her brothers would come.
She knew Tavran.
He would tear universes apart looking for her if he had to.
But she couldn't sit somewhere waiting to be rescued.
Father had trained her.
Mother had trained her.
All twelve brothers had taught her something.
If she was alone—
then she would carry all of them with her.
She looked toward the white path.
Dark.
Wet.
Full of things that wanted to hurt her.
Her heart raced.
Good.
Fear meant she was paying attention.
She could use it.
Xheavend inhaled.
Held.
Released.
Again.
Then nodded.
"I'm ready."
Q raised one eyebrow.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
His mouth twitched.
Inside him—
Omen seemed amused.
Xheavend pointed at Q.
"Don't encourage him."
Q froze.
Then stared inward.
"You can tell?"
Xheavend blinked.
Of course.
"They're different."
"How different?"
"Very."
That seemed to disturb him.
Good.
She was tired of being the only disturbed person.
The Book rustled impatiently.
Q sighed.
"Right."
He adjusted the silver cloak.
Not enough to disappear.
Xheavend noticed.
He noticed her noticing.
Neither said anything.
Good.
He began walking.
Xheavend followed.
The white flames bowed as they passed.
Behind them—
Varkros became dust.
Malzareth remained absence.
And somewhere far above the Labyrinth—
Yzer laughed softly through the blood.
Run, Pet.
Xheavend's fingers curled.
End rose.
Not enough to take control.
Enough to answer.
SHE IS NOT YOURS.
Xheavend stared into the darkness ahead.
For once—
she agreed with them completely.
She was afraid.
She was angry.
She was lost.
She didn't know whether Q was truly safe.
She didn't know what Omen was.
She didn't understand End.
She didn't know whether she'd ever escape Yzer.
But one thing—
one thing—
belonged entirely to her.
He didn't get to decide what she became.
Xheavend stepped deeper into the Labyrinth.
And this time—
fear went with her.
Not as a chain.
As a weapon.
The White Flame Path did not end.
Xheavend had decided it was doing that deliberately.
The tunnel stretched ahead beneath rows of white torches that gave off no warmth. Their flames didn't flicker when she passed them. Didn't smoke. Didn't bend.
They just burned.
White.
Still.
Watching.
Xheavend hated them.
She hated most things in Yeitshoja, so the torches had plenty of company.
Her bare feet moved quietly over the stone.
Ahead of her, Q walked with the strange black blade resting across one shoulder.
She still wasn't used to calling him that.
Q.
It was barely a name.
More like someone had started writing one and gotten distracted.
Omen was worse.
That name fit the Old One better than she wanted to admit.
Especially now that she knew purple eyes meant him.
Sometimes Q's eyes were ordinary.
Sometimes—
purple.
And everything behind them changed.
Xheavend watched for that now.
She watched everything now.
That was how she would survive.
Q.
Omen.
End.
The dead.
The Book.
Yzer.
Especially Yzer.
She wasn't going to make the mistake of assuming anyone was safe simply because they had helped her.
But—
Xheavend looked at Q's back.
He had adjusted the silver cloak again.
Just like before.
Enough to protect himself.
Not enough to disappear from her.
She could still feel him.
There.
Friend.
The thought came automatically.
She frowned.
Fine.
Whatever.
Her ribs hurt.
Xheavend pressed one hand against them.
Immediately removed it.
No.
Don't show it.
Keep walking.
Her chest had started hurting shortly after the fight.
At first it had only been uncomfortable.
Then sharp.
Now every breath felt like something small was scraping the inside of her lungs.
She knew why.
End.
Too much power.
Again.
She had felt what happened when the four of them opened through her.
Death.
Famine.
War.
Conquest.
Her body wasn't built for all of that.
Not yet.
She knew that.
End knew that.
Wisper definitely knew that.
Which was why—
Xheavend's stomach tightened.
Wisper.
She hadn't forgotten him.
Not for one second.
Two streets from Pandeminium.
Blood everywhere.
His little body exploding.
I'll find you.
He'd promised.
Probably.
That had been his exact word.
Probably.
Idiot.
She missed him.
A lot.
More than she wanted to admit.
The tunnel descended.
Roots twisted through the ceiling.
Black moisture crawled between the stones.
Nothing attacked them.
That almost made it worse.
Xheavend had learned something about Yeitshoja.
When monsters weren't trying to eat you—
they were usually preparing to.
Her chest stabbed.
She inhaled sharply.
Too sharply.
Pain ripped through her side.
She nearly stumbled.
Nearly.
Q turned his head.
"You alright?"
Too fast.
He noticed too much.
Xheavend straightened.
"I'm fine."
Omen immediately spoke inside him.
She is lying.
Xheavend glared at Q's back.
She couldn't hear every thought between them.
Not clearly.
But Omen had become loud enough lately that sometimes she caught him.
She was fairly certain he did it on purpose.
Traitor.
Q slowed.
"Xheavend."
"Hm?"
"You can tell us if something's wrong."
"I'm okay."
She was not okay.
But they had to find Goro.
They had to get out of Yeitshoja.
They had to find some way back to her family.
They had to—
Her lung twisted.
Xheavend stopped.
Oh.
That was bad.
Very bad.
Something crawled upward inside her chest.
She grabbed her ribs.
Q turned.
"Xheav—"
COUGH.
Blood hit the white stone.
Xheavend doubled over.
Pain tore through her chest.
She coughed again.
More blood.
Warm.
Metallic.
Something thick moved into her throat.
Oh no.
She knew this feeling.
"Oh, come on—"
She coughed again.
Something wet struck the floor.
Q froze.
Xheavend stared down.
Part of her lung lay on the stone.
Still twitching.
She grimaced.
"That's disgusting."
Q stared at her.
Then the lung.
Then her.
"What—"
The tissue moved.
A tiny black shape crawled from it.
Then another.
Another.
Dozens.
Little insects spilled from the torn piece of lung and spread across the white stone.
Q reached for his weapon.
"No!"
He stopped.
The insects rushed toward Xheavend.
Up her feet.
Her legs.
Across her arms.
One disappeared beneath her hair.
Another crawled over her cheek.
And Xheavend—
smiled.
Actually smiled.
Not the tiny almost-smiles she had been giving Q.
Not the careful ones.
A real one.
Her chest hurt.
There was blood in her mouth.
She had just coughed up part of an organ.
She didn't care.
Because she knew those insects.
She knew what came next.
Her eyes filled instantly.
"Oh..."
The blood on the floor trembled.
Xheavend dropped to her knees.
"There you are."
Q stared.
"...There who are?"
The blood moved.
Not randomly.
Together.
It crawled across the floor toward itself, every crimson droplet joining another.
Gathering.
Rising.
Threads twisted together.
Bones formed beneath paper-thin crimson skin.
Tiny arms.
Tiny claws.
A curled tail.
Large ears unfolded.
Then two delicate bat-like wings stretched wide.
Last—
two enormous crimson eyes opened.
Galaxies moved inside them.
Xheavend's breath caught.
Wisper.
Alive.
Actually alive.
"Wisper!"
The little creature blinked once.
His eyes found her.
For one wonderful second—
neither moved.
Xheavend's smile became enormous.
Relief hit so hard it hurt worse than her lung.
She had known.
She had known he wasn't dead.
But knowing wasn't seeing.
Knowing wasn't having him there.
Knowing wasn't—
Wisper launched himself directly at her face.
"YOU STUPID GIRL!"
Xheavend made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
He landed on her head.
Tiny claws grabbed two fistfuls of her hair.
Then yanked.
"OW!"
"What were you THINKING?!"
"WISPER!"
He yanked again.
"Agh! Stop!"
"You coughed up a LUNG!"
"I know!"
"You promised!"
"I KNOW!"
"You overdid it AGAIN!"
"I KNOW!"
"You absolute moldy potato!"
Xheavend laughed.
She couldn't help it.
Actually laughed.
Her chest protested violently.
She didn't care.
"Wisper!"
She grabbed him.
He squeaked.
For once—
Xheavend was faster.
She pulled him from her hair and crushed him against her chest.
Wisper went completely still.
So did Q.
Xheavend didn't care.
She hugged him.
Hard.
Probably too hard.
His little wings flattened between them.
His ears stuck out beneath her chin.
She buried her face against the top of his head.
"You're alive."
Silence.
Wisper's tiny claws slowly lowered.
Xheavend swallowed.
Her voice cracked.
"You idiot."
Wisper blinked.
"I told you I'd find you."
"You said probably!"
"That's basically a promise."
"No, it isn't!"
"It is for me."
Xheavend squeezed him tighter.
She had thought she could handle it.
When he'd exploded outside Pandeminium.
She'd known he wasn't dead.
She had kept running.
Kept thinking.
Kept surviving.
Because that's what she did.
But she'd been scared.
Terrified.
Because what if she'd been wrong?
What if that strange absence she'd felt had been death?
What if she'd lost him because she'd dragged him into this?
What if—
Wisper's tiny arms wrapped around one of her fingers.
"Hey."
Xheavend stopped.
"I'm here."
Three words.
That was all.
Her eyes burned.
Stupid eyes.
She wiped them against her shoulder before Q could see.
He definitely saw.
She decided he hadn't.
"Don't do that again."
Wisper's ears twitched.
"Do what?"
"Explode!"
"I didn't exactly schedule it."
"Then unschedule it!"
"That isn't how exploding works!"
"Figure it out!"
Wisper pulled back enough to look at her.
"You are remarkably demanding for someone currently missing part of a lung."
"It grows back."
"THAT ISN'T THE POINT!"
There he was.
Xheavend smiled again.
She hadn't realized how badly she'd needed to hear him yelling at her.
Which was depressing.
But also—
Wisper.
Her Wisper.
Here.
Alive.
Safe.
Well.
Probably not safe.
Nothing here was safe.
But alive.
For right now, that was enough.
Then Wisper's enormous eyes narrowed.
He touched her cheek.
Blood.
His expression became murderous.
"You used End."
Xheavend's smile weakened.
"I had to."
"You always have to."
"There were monsters."
"There are always monsters!"
"They were going to kill us!"
Wisper's eyes moved toward Q.
Then back.
"You weren't alone."
Xheavend stiffened.
That touched something she didn't like.
"I can protect myself."
Wisper stopped.
So did Q.
Xheavend immediately knew how that had sounded.
She looked away.
Wisper's voice softened.
"I know."
That was worse.
No lecture.
No joke.
Just—
I know.
His tiny hand pressed against hers.
"But protecting yourself doesn't mean destroying yourself."
Xheavend said nothing.
End stirred.
Quietly.
Almost guilty.
Good.
They deserved it too.
Wisper looked inward.
Not at her.
Through her.
His ears flattened.
"And YOU."
End became very still.
Xheavend blinked.
Wisper pointed one tiny claw directly at her chest.
"Don't think I'm not mad at you!"
Silence.
Q looked fascinated.
Xheavend almost smiled.
Wisper continued.
"She's nine!"
Almost ten, End answered.
Xheavend's mouth fell open.
Wisper's eyes widened.
"THAT IS YOUR DEFENSE?!"
End disappeared so deeply into Xheavend that she could barely feel them.
Coward.
"Come back here!"
Nothing.
Wisper threw his tiny arms into the air.
"Unbelievable!"
Xheavend laughed again.
Her chest hurt.
She didn't care.
For a few seconds—
Yzer disappeared.
Not literally.
His blood was still inside her.
The nightmare was still waiting.
Goro was still somewhere beneath them.
Monsters still lived in the tunnels.
She still didn't know how she would get home.
But Wisper was yelling at End.
Q was standing nearby looking like he'd accidentally walked into someone else's family argument.
And Xheavend—
was happy.
Actually happy.
Here.
In Hellbound.
Missing part of a lung.
Life was stupid.
She loved this moment anyway.
Wisper finally huffed.
Then looked toward Q.
His enormous eyes narrowed.
"Hm."
Xheavend immediately knew that look.
Oh no.
Wisper launched himself from her hands.
"Wisper—"
He landed on Q's shoulder.
Q stared sideways at him.
Wisper stared back.
Long.
Uncomfortably long.
His crimson eyes moved over Q's face.
Then deeper.
Xheavend felt the moment he noticed Omen.
Wisper's ears twitched.
Omen became very still.
The air changed.
Not dangerous.
Assessing.
Wisper leaned closer.
"Hmmmm."
Q raised one eyebrow.
Wisper sniffed him.
Xheavend covered her mouth.
Q looked offended.
"Did you just smell me?"
Wisper ignored him.
His eyes narrowed further.
Then—
"You'll do."
Q blinked.
"...Thank you?"
Xheavend snorted.
Wisper turned toward her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing."
Xheavend smiled sweetly.
"It'll come to you."
Q looked at her.
She looked back.
For half a second, something almost normal passed between them.
Then Wisper stood proudly on Q's shoulder.
Tiny arms folded.
"I'm Wisper."
Q looked sideways.
"I gathered that."
"One of Xheavend's familiars."
One.
Q caught that too.
Xheavend saw it in his face.
He didn't ask.
Smart.
Wisper placed one tiny claw against his chest and bowed dramatically.
"End asked me to thank both of you."
His gaze shifted.
Not toward Q.
Deeper.
Omen.
"For protecting our Xheavend."
Xheavend's smile disappeared.
Our.
That word.
It always did something strange to her.
Not possession.
Not the way Yzer said mine.
Different.
Belonging.
Home.
Family.
Q noticed too.
"Our?"
Wisper nodded.
"Our."
Then immediately pointed at Xheavend.
"She keeps forgetting she's breakable."
Xheavend rolled her eyes.
"I do not."
"You literally coughed up a lung."
"I'll grow another."
Wisper's wings shot open.
"THAT IS NOT THE POINT!"
Xheavend looked away.
"...Maybe a little."
Wisper groaned.
Q stared at him.
Then at the blood.
Then at Xheavend.
"So..."
Xheavend knew that tone.
Questions.
Wonderful.
"You only appear when she coughs blood?"
Wisper nodded.
"No."
Q frowned.
"I appear when End becomes angry."
He counted on one tiny claw.
"Or when this idiot uses too much power."
Second claw.
"It makes her curse worse."
Xheavend crossed her arms.
"I slept before we got kidnapped."
Wisper turned his entire body away from her.
"Ignoring the defendant."
"Wisper."
"Still ignoring."
Q's expression changed.
"...Who is End?"
Everything stopped.
Xheavend's smile faded.
Wisper went quiet.
Even End withdrew.
Wisper's enormous eyes slowly lifted.
Not toward the ceiling.
Beyond it.
Beyond Yeitshoja.
Beyond Hellbound.
Maybe beyond the Third Universe itself.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
No squeaking.
No jokes.
No anger.
"He is the beginning..."
Xheavend felt End recoil.
Beginning.
That pain again.
"...and the end of all things."
Omen moved.
Sharply.
Xheavend looked at Q.
He had gone still.
Q asked something inwardly.
Omen answered.
Xheavend caught pieces.
No.
Heard the name.
Familiar.
Then—
Perhaps something older.
Xheavend looked down at her hands.
Older.
How much older could things get?
She was beginning to suspect she didn't want the answer.
Wisper suddenly flew directly into Q's face.
Q jerked backward.
"What—"
"You don't need to know who End is."
Wisper's voice was serious.
Completely serious.
"You only need to know one thing."
Xheavend knew what was coming.
"Wisper."
He ignored her.
"If either of you hurts our Xheavend..."
His crimson eyes seemed to darken.
The galaxies inside them stopped moving.
"...you'll answer to End."
The tunnel became cold.
"...and he is very protective."
Xheavend felt End rise.
Not threatening Q.
Not threatening Omen.
Simply confirming.
Yes.
Omen did not retreat.
Didn't challenge them either.
Interesting.
Wisper smiled.
And instantly became an annoying tiny creature again.
"Well."
Xheavend's stomach dropped.
No.
She knew that tone.
"My time's up."
Her happiness vanished.
"...Already?"
Wisper nodded.
"Mhm."
"No."
He waved.
"Bye."
"Wisper, wait—"
POP.
Blood exploded across Xheavend's face.
She stood there.
Dripping.
Her eye twitched.
"Wisper."
Nothing.
She wiped blood slowly from her cheek.
"I hate when he does that."
Q looked mildly traumatized.
"You've seen that before?"
"Unfortunately."
The blood struck the stone.
Hissed.
Xheavend looked down.
"Oh."
The floor melted.
Not cracked.
Not broke.
Melted.
Stone sagged like wax.
A circular hole opened beneath them.
Darkness waited below.
Very far below—
more white flames.
Xheavend stared.
"You have got to be kidding me."
The hole was already closing.
Stone crawled inward around its edges.
Omen spoke.
Now.
Q moved.
Xheavend saw him reach for her.
Her body reacted.
For half a heartbeat—
fear.
Yzer.
Hands.
Being grabbed.
Then she saw Q.
Not Yzer.
Q.
Friend.
He wasn't trying to cage her.
The floor was literally disappearing.
Fair.
His arm wrapped around her waist.
"What—"
He jumped.
Xheavend's stomach remained somewhere above them.
The tunnel disappeared.
Stone sealed overhead.
Darkness swallowed them.
Xheavend grabbed Q's coat with both hands.
"I HATE THIS PLACE!"
Q's voice echoed through the shaft.
"FINALLY, SOMETHING WE AGREE ON!"
They fell.
White flames streaked past.
Wind tore through Xheavend's hair.
Somewhere deep inside her—
End laughed.
Xheavend glared into absolutely nothing.
"This is not funny!"
End laughed harder.
And despite herself—
despite the monsters,
despite Yzer,
despite falling through a hole melted by the exploding blood of her ridiculous familiar—
Xheavend smiled.
Wisper was alive.
For now—
that was enough.