I pass an elderly woman in the hall leading towards the lobby. Her gray hair is in a now-disheveled perm, her glasses missing one arm. She smiles at me waveringly, a vacant grin only people deep into dementia offer. I smile back, my heart breaking in my chest. How did this woman pass the Provings? How did she manage to make it to Haven? It is absurd, but even more absurd that she still has to endure this terror in her last days.

  “Hello,” I say, bringing the woman up short. Her watery eyes meet mine, her smile remaining broad. “Do you need any help? Are you going somewhere?”

  “No, no, dear,” she says, her voice quintessential grandmother, if with a German accent. “I’ll manage. Never been a time in my life when I’ve wanted help, and there never will be.”

  “That’s… really? Never?” I find myself asking.

  “Oh no,” she says, her grin turning more confident. Almost sinister. “I’ve done my share for and against the world, but I never needed help for any of it.”

  The time is pressing, but I hesitate. Who is this woman?

  Identification: Grettel Friedrich, Human Shadowwalker

  Level: 22

  Strengths: Charisma, Intelligence

  Weaknesses: Senility

  Level what now?

  Class what now?

  Who was this woman?

  “You’re looking at me strange,” she says, her smile faltering. “Did we know one another? I thought I’d recall a pretty girl such as yourself.”

  “No, no,” I say hurriedly. “First time meeting, and all that.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Do you need anything, child?”

  “Uh…”

  “Well, it was nice to meet you,” she says, patting my arm gently. “Stay safe out there, dear.”

  “You, too?”

  My voice turns the words into a question as she moves past me, tottering down the hall. I’m almost to the lobby when I hear her voice again in the distance.

  “No, I thought she looked lovely. So what if a dress isn’t armor? I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  What the hell? Who is she…

  “Competitor, think.”

  Her Mentor. Of course. Maybe old Grettel’s lost some of her marbles, but appearances can most definitely be deceiving. She also, quite conspicuously considering her level, doesn’t show up anywhere on our leaderboard. Whoever that woman is, at least one Mentor ended up picking well, even if it was accidental.

  The lobby is empty when I arrive. I glance at the time. Three minutes past.

  My heart falls, hope dying even though I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable.

  “What did you expect?”

  I don’t know, I just—

  “Boss!” I spin towards the entrance. Burl strides in, his snout split into a broad grin, a thick piece of meat with snout-shaped bites torn from it cradled in his hand. “Sorry, I just had to get some grub.”

  Identification: Felra Haunch (Common Sustenance, Hearty Protein)

  Felra are the Fourth’s analog of an Earth moose, large, intimidating, and covered with horns. Those who manage to slay them fairly often work up an appetite, if they don’t end up the meal themselves.

  “Hey, Burl!” I say, too excitedly. I force my face solemn, standing tall and, theoretically, dignified. “Tardiness is unacceptable. Habitual lateness will result in an official write-up.”

  Burl flinches like I just threatened his life, his bronze scales turning tan.

  “No, Boss! It won’t happen again, no chance!”

  I stare at him for a second, trying to decide if he’s joking, but he pales more when I don’t answer. His slitted eyes dart around like he’s looking for an escape. He makes a valiant effort to pull himself together, but he’s soon fidgeting from one clawed foot to another.

  “Boss… please…”

  “Stop, Burl, I’m fucking with you,” I say, grinning. “Consider it your punishment. You can make it up to me by using one of those tokens to get me some damn hair ties.”

  “That… that ain’t funny,” he says, some of his color returning.

  “Wrong ye be, stump,” a familiar voice calls with a booming laugh. “Ye should have seen what shade of earth yer face became.”

  Threenut strides over, his unbreakable stick over his shoulder, acorn helm under his arm. My heart feels like a miniature sun in my chest. Tears blur my vision.

  “Three…” I whisper, trying to speak through the lump in my throat.

  “Aye, twig,” he says, a declaration. An understanding. His little hand presses to my knee. “Never doubt the depth of me roots.”

  “Nor mine.” Zara’s gravely voice is perhaps the most surprising of all to hear. She moves to join us with the gravity of a queen deigning to walk among her subjects. “We have gathered, as was agreed. What have we learned?”

  “Cobalds got some strong Corps,” Burl says, shaking his head. “Couple tried to recruit me, but I told em’ I had employment already. Little worried, though. Lot of poaching and company infighting, from what I can tell. Seems like they forgot the point of this shit. Got some inflated egos in there.”

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  He jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the door marked for his people. In the process, he slaps himself in the face with the meat he’s still holding in his hand. He sputters, a smear of grease shining on his cheek. He looks stunned for a moment, then grins like he’s found some money on the ground, lifting the moose haunch and tearing off a thick chunk. I fight a laugh when I see Zara’s face, disbelief etched into her chitin.

  “Long way short, glad I’m not involved,” he says after he swallows.

  “Zara?” I ask, giving Burl a thumbs up.

  “From what I can tell, the only reason my people have fared as well as they have is because this environment has been lifted from our home.” She shifts, a new pattern emerging on her carapace. “The two I found resting in the common area were pacifist weavers. I am not surprised. My people are not inclined to war. The pacifists will die whenever the Tournament passes beyond this stage.” She twitches. “There was not much to learn. Laranya are safer among the trees than they are anywhere near Haven, so there is little purpose in our coming here. I imagine those who wish to fight have found or granted death out in the forest.”

  “Did they ask you what you’re doing?” I ask. “Or try to get you to work with them?”

  “My people are solitary creatures,” she answers, though there is something strange in her voice when she says it. “They did not ask, and I did not tell them.”

  “Not so the People,” Threenut says when she finishes. “The greatest number of Otachai scatter through the trees. It be not our forest, but close enough we make it so.” He sighs heavily, leaning on his stick. “They sought me might to shelter their roots.”

  “What did you tell them?” I ask, suddenly afraid again.

  “I am the shelter of the People, as much as any can be.” He looks up at me, giant green eyes glowing. “But strength I lack enough to withstand this gale. Better to grow strong married to saplings of different groves.”

  “What?”

  “He’s sticking with us,” Burl says, shooting me some side eye like he wants to call me an idiot, but doesn’t dare.

  “And you?” Zara asks. “What did you learn of humanity?”

  “Well…” I trail off, gathering my thoughts. What did I learn exactly? “It might not be entirely our fault that so many of us have died. The Mentors who chose us were pretty shit at the job, mine included. There are only a few of us that are even fighting, and a bunch of idiots lounging around in the common area. If this is normal across all the arenas, I don’t have much hope for humanity.”

  The other three don’t say anything, though they might as well be shouting their thoughts.

  Of course humanity doesn’t have much hope.

  It’s humanity.

  The evidently low opinion of us was explained pretty easily in our species description and Dickhead’s addendum, but it doesn’t make it sting less. Especially when it comes from super hot vampires who take your breath away out in an exotic forest—

  “So you made it, after all.”

  My heart lurches. My cheeks flush. My guts clench.

  Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

  Even her fucking voice…

  Mask, Sam. Singularity Sam, not the girl screaming oh-my-god-the-hottest-thing-that’s-ever—

  “Guys, don’t fuck this up for me,” I hiss.

  I need confidence. Sam the Singularity. Arrogance?

  Ignoring my companion’s confused looks, I turn to meet the Drelni blademaster’s gorgeous eyes. I try on a confident smile. I hope.

  “I must be a summoner,” I say after a moment.

  “Oh?” she says, her perfect silver eyebrows rising in tragic interest. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “I was just thinking of you, and here you are.”

  The woman cracks half a smile, and I think my heart might burst right out of my fucking chest. Her eyes flick between my group, standing comfortably together. She leans back, appraising, thoughtful. When she finally looks at me again, there is something new in her eyes. Something strange. Notwithstanding my ridiculous confidence in reading alien expressions, I think it’s something like amazement.

  “So you didn’t claim them to take their power for your own,” she says slowly, her eyes scorching into mine. “You claimed them to protect them from me. To… save them.”

  “Pretty much,” I say, shrugging.

  “And now they follow you.” She isn’t asking. She lifts her voice to the others. “Why? Why do you follow this human?”

  “An oath was sworn between us,” Threenut says gruffly. I imagine he’s scowling, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the Drelni long enough to see. “Each of us she sheltered from a storm, and each of us she asked a simple promise. We four shall not fight until the last we be.”

  “That’s it?” she asks, almost disappointed somehow. “A mere promise?”

  “Eh,” Burl grunts, his claws whispering on the hard floor. “I owe her, so I’m working in her Corp until I pay off the debt.”

  “We aren’t a corporation,” I say tiredly.

  “Says you, Boss.”

  “Working together,” the Drelni says softly, her eyes drifting over the four of us. “This, I have to see.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, fearing some sort of declared duel.

  “I want to see you in action. All of you. Interspecies cooperation? Willingly?” Her sunset eyes bore into mine. “Are you going to head out today?”

  “Well…” I glance at my compatriots. Threenut has his little arms folded over his belly, his unbreakable stick pressed between them. Burl looks bored, one claw halfway up one long nostril. And Zara… Zara is unreadable as ever, though there’s a certain stiffness to her carapace. “Are we?”

  “I don’t think this is a conversation to be had in front of a hostile Competitor,” Zara whispers.

  “I…” I glance back at the woman. “Are you hostile?”

  She doesn’t answer, still staring into my eyes.

  Identification: Vesyla, Drelni Blademaster

  Level: 26

  Shit, she’s gotten stronger. A lot stronger since… whatever day we saw her last. Probably merrily murdering other Competitors for their loot and their souls. My breath comes short looking at her, but I’m not dumb enough to welcome a fucking vampire into our midst, no matter how blindingly attractive.

  “Would you… swear?” She blinks in surprise, rocking back on her heels. “The same oath we’ve sworn? Not to fight until we’re the last?”

  The Drelni woman shakes her head slowly, an amazed and slightly mocking smile growing on her lips.

  “You’re insane, human,” she laughs, an unintentional melody. “Especially if you’re serious. Who would honor such a bargain? No, I will not swear. I do not know you, or your companions, and I have no incentive to bind myself to you. There can only be one victor.”

  “Finally, a sentient with intelligence.”

  Shush.

  “Sam.” I say, frowning. Her brow furrows beautifully at my tone. “My name is Sam, not ‘human.’”

  “Vesyla,” she says curtly, tilting her chin in a mildly respectful bow. Not that I know anything about Drelni culture. She might have just conveyed her total hatred of everything I am and stand for.

  “Well, if that’s all…”

  “I will not swear such an oath, human, but I would still like to see you fight.” She puts her hand on the thin sword at her waist, holding its hilt like a talisman. “I swear by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword to travel with you in peace until my curiosity is satisfied. So long as you take no hostile action towards me, I will not towards you or yours. Is that good enough for you?”

  I want to stutter out a ‘yes’ instantly, but I force what little of my rationality can assert itself to take control. I turn to my companions.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  “I do not trust her,” Zara says flatly, only a few of her many eyes pointed in my direction. “I believe she is exploiting your obvious infatuation to gain knowledge of us, knowledge she can sell or use herself to bring about our deaths.”

  “My obvious…” My cheeks go hot enough to scramble eggs. I don’t glance Vesyla’s way. “What the hell, Zara?”

  “I am merely describing the Weave as I see it,” she says, four arms moving in a strange pattern around her. “Had you not arrived when you did, the Cobald and I would both be dead, at this one’s hands.”

  “She’s right, boss,” Burl says, his tail waving behind him. “Ain’t no way we can trust her.”

  “Three?” I ask, my hope already on tottering legs.

  “Aye, twig,” Threenut says, a shrug sending a ripple through his belly. “Clicks knows the way to sunlight.”

  I turn back to Vesyla, my mouth pressed into an apologetic line. She doesn’t seem bothered by the refusal. I definitely am. I don’t know why I trust the obviously-murderous vampire at her word, but I do. If she was like the Deathlord, she’d have tried her strength against us back when we first crossed paths. Three had been bleeding, I was still recovering, Burl was unconscious, and Zara had little more than courage to fight with. If she’d have chosen violence, we would all have died.

  “Well, Vesyla, sorry,” I say, dragging the words out with an effort of will. “The people have spoken.”

  “And spoken fairly,” she says, turning to leave. She glances over her shoulder with a brilliant smile. “Farewell, human. When you die, I hope someone else gets you. It’d be a shame to mar such a pretty face myself.”

  Uh. Holy shit.