Nico, accompanied by Leo and Dan, was inside the armory. The frantic clanging of the alarm bells had everyone in a state of agitation. The distant, insistent sound came from the closed door and the windows overlooking the courtyard; Nico felt his heart beat faster.

  Dan looked up, as if he could see the bells beyond the limited field of vision afforded by the walls of the armory. Next to Nico, Leo paced back and forth nervously, then suddenly blurted out, “What do we do now? What does this mean?”

  Nico, still a boy, looked into Dan's eyes for an answer. Dan's gaze revealed a deep concern that showed on his face.

  The armory door swung open; Gareth stood in the doorway, wearing his usual leather doublet with the royal family's golden ash tree embroidered on his chest. He looked agitated, as if he were in a hurry.

  When Gareth entered with a determined stride, Nico noticed for a moment the perplexed face of the newcomer: the room was a mess of broken terracotta pots and pieces of armor, remnants of the collapse caused by Leo, who had thus discovered a secret room. Without thinking, Nico asked aloud, “What's going on?”

  Gareth seemed to recover, walking past the mess without caring; he approached the door Leo had discovered, without answering immediately. Nico insisted, raising his voice: “What's going on?”

  Gareth turned around; Nico sensed a fierce determination in his gaze, as if he demanded respect and didn't want to waste time talking. Then he said quietly but clearly, “We're under attack.”

  Dan continued, asking, “Who?”

  Nico thought back to old conversations, remembering in particular the chatter with Broom and the others that evening before the Nothing struck them: Taynor had been talked about as the city that would never be touched by evil, the last stronghold impossible to besiege or destroy, the last bastion of freedom. The idea that this city could now be threatened made him gasp.

  Gareth looked Dan up and down, as if studying him; Nico noticed the emotion on the boy's face, who was slightly older than Nico himself, bitterness and concern. Gareth replied, his gaze steady: “I don't know.” Then, as if shaken by uncertainty, he took a breath and added: “I just know I have to find her.”

  Nico remembered that Gareth was the princess's guardian; his thoughts immediately turned to Kiahh. Where could his friend be at that moment? Perhaps in the dormitories, since it was almost dark; or in the library, where she often liked to linger to increase her knowledge and magical abilities. Nico's thoughts seemed to resonate with Leo: his friend exclaimed, “Kiahh!” and Nico nodded.

  They had to do something, even if they were only apprentices. They had Dan's throwing knives, yes, but whatever was outside that door, they needed real weapons. Nico scanned the swords, spears, and bows hanging on the racks or resting on the shelves, looking for a sword that wasn't too rusty. He grabbed it and said to Leo, “Take one too. We have to go find Kiahh.”

  Gareth narrowed his eyes, observing them with a mixture of curiosity and respect, then said, “No.”

  Nico looked up, overcome with deep irritation: “I don't care who you are or what you teach. We're taking our weapons and going to look for her. The three of us are staying together. And above all, it's not your decision.”

  Gareth continued to stare at them, his gaze fixed between irritation and respect, and finally replied, “Don't take those weapons, they're old and broken. Come with me.”

  Gareth gestured to move aside the pile of broken pottery and pieces of armor in front of the door and opened it. Nico saw a faint blue glow beyond the threshold, not a clear light, but more like moonlight flickering as it reflected off water. A subtle, cold shiver ran through him, as if the air inside had a different temperature.

  Leo, Dan, and Nico were almost driven by curiosity, despite the chaos and screams outside, and approached the door with a kind of reverential respect. When he crossed the threshold, the room welcomed Nico like a mouth of light.

  Hanging on racks or resting on various supports were swords, bows, and spears that gleamed: all had a metallic sheen, but the reflection was veiled in blue. The darkness of the room enhanced that glow; there were no windows, yet the air did not smell musty or stale. On the contrary: it was fresh and clean, with a hint of metal in the air that Nico associated with freshly polished iron. In the background, almost imperceptible, was a melody, a dirge that seemed to come from the walls themselves, and that music tightened his stomach with a mixture of wonder and unease.

  Leo whispered, “What is it?”

  Gareth replied curtly, “It's a spell.”

  He approached a rack and said decisively, “Choose a weapon. No armor, we don't have time to put it on.” Nico watched him as he spoke; there was haste in his movements, but also the calmness of someone who knows what he is looking for.

  Nico looked around and, in a low voice, as if talking to himself, asked, “What are they?” He saw Gareth reverently grasp a large two-handed sword, its leather scabbard carved and inlaid with gold; the blade seemed to absorb the light and reflect it back with an authoritative calm. Gareth unhooked his sword from his belt and placed the two-handed sword at his side, then turned his gaze to the others: “Hurry up.”

  Nico's eyes fell on a longbow: the wood was decorated in green and silver, the string seemed to glisten as if made of fine sparkles. Next to it was a quiver with neatly arranged arrows; when he picked up the bow and the sword that was nearby, he felt the coldness of the wood and the leather of the sheath under his palms.

  Leo looked over several weapons, but Nico knew him: he wasn't the type for swords or bows. He saw him fiddling with a closed box on a column; he pulled out a dagger with a leather sheath decorated in red and gold. When Leo pulled the dagger from its sheath, Nico saw that the light of that blade was different, dark, as if it sucked some of the air around it away.

  Gareth glanced at Dan and snapped, “Get a move on, minstrel, we've got work to do!” Dan, standing in the doorway, shook his head with a weary smile. Nico noticed his reluctance: Dan said quietly, almost to himself, “That's magic. I don't touch magic.”

  They rushed out of the armory with their weapons in hand. Screams echoed from different parts of the palace, bouncing off the stones like muffled cries.

  The atrium of the great Falcon Tower was dark, lit only by the faint moonlight coming through the slits and the large door opening onto the courtyard. Nico stopped suddenly: on the ground, scattered as if they had fallen asleep suddenly, lay several motionless bodies. He had never seen a dead body before. He knew they were just NPCs, that this was a game with a high level of simulation, but it was all so real that a wave of nausea rose in his stomach. He heard someone next to him vomit.

  A shiver ran down his spine; he was afraid, but they had to keep going. He turned right and left, unsure of where to go.

  “This place is huge... how are we going to find it?” he asked, his voice cracked with anguish.

  “She said she and Celeste would meet after dinner in the Hall of Arcanum for evening training, remember?” said Leo, unable to look away from the bodies as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. “But where is this damn hall?” he added, bewildered.

  Nico was about to ask Gareth, but the boy beat him to it, saying in a whisper, “Follow me.”

  He took a few steps among the bodies, then slowed down. His shoulders trembled, and as if his initial confidence had vanished, he squeezed Leo's shoulder with one hand. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes filled with clear panic.

  Leo nodded sadly, his neck tucked between his shoulders as if he wanted to disappear.

  Gareth started walking again, each step seeming to cost him. “Why didn't he tell me?” he muttered. “I knew... I knew this would happen. Why? Why did they let it happen?”

  Nico watched the boy's back and wondered if he was really capable of leading them to the hall. Gareth was trembling, almost feverishly. And Nico understood, or thought he understood, why: his bond with Celeste, whatever it really was, seemed to have clouded his judgment. Perhaps that was why he was so upset.

  But the thought left Nico uneasy. If Gareth and Celeste were truly the princess's guardians, why did they always leave her alone? Why did they so often stray from their duty to wander around the palace? With all those people lying on the ground, it seemed even more absurd to him.

  Gareth was about to enter a cylindrical corridor that opened up in front of them, narrow and lit only by torches that flickered as if water were dripping from the ceiling, trying to extinguish them. A noise to Nico's left caught his attention.

  Out of nowhere, the air became thicker, damp, almost slimy as it slipped into his lungs. His heart pounded beneath his tunic. He turned toward the noise. Something was moving in the shadows, like a snake slithering toward him.

  The sword felt heavy in his hands, his fingers trembled, his palms were sweaty.

  A distorted shape flickered in front of him, appearing out of nowhere and blocking his path. The face was a blurred, lifeless grin, the wounds dripping a slimy mixture of red blood and black tar. Nico was paralyzed. His breath caught in his throat.

  A hiss, then another: two metallic flashes darted in front of the creature, knocking it off balance. Before Nico could react, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him hard.

  “Wake up, rookie!”

  Nico blinked, as if awakening from a dream, and it was over in an instant. The figures on the floor slithered like snakes, trying to block their path. He saw them struggle to their feet, held up by an invisible puppeteer, limp and disjointed. In the flickering light of the torches, he realized they were the same bodies he had seen lying on the ground.

  He took a step forward, his heart pounding like a battle drum. He raised his sword, forgetting every technique he had learned, and brought it down in a long, shaky but powerful slash. He felt the vibration of the metal along his arm as the blade met the resistance of the puppet's body.

  The world narrowed into a tunnel of sound: Leo's broken breathing as he fought on his left; Gareth's heavy sword describing wide arcs; Dan's knives striking with surgical precision. A dislocated hand reached out to grab him. He pulled his sword back with a quick, frightened movement, producing a slimy sound that made him feel nauseous.

  He raised his sword again.

  “You have to hit the head!” Gareth growled as he slashed upward from below, to Nico's right.

  Nico's stomach churned in a wave of nausea when he saw the puppet man's head split open under the force of Gareth's blow. The sharp sound tightened his stomach and throat in a vice.

  His arm was still shaking, he didn't know if it was from the blow he had just struck or from fear. He made a short, clumsy movement, more instinct than technique, aiming as Gareth had said: at the head. The blade hit something hard, then suddenly gave way. The creature staggered and collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

  Nico took a step back, breathless. The trembling showed no sign of stopping.

  A growl exploded near his ear. Nico turned just in time to see another puppet coming at him from his blind spot. The air was knocked out of him; fear struck his chest like a punch. He couldn't move his sword in time.

  A violent push knocked him sideways. Dan passed in front of him, a flash of arms and blades. A knife plunged into the puppet-man's temple with a sharp blow.

  The sounds became muffled. Around him, only the heavy breathing of his companions. He counted: three shadows, upright, regular, armed. They were safe.

  Only then did he realize he was breathing too fast, his mouth dry as sand. But they couldn't stop.

  Someone shouted, “Watch out!” Nico spun around. Another figure jumped on him and he raised his blade just in time to parry. The impact made both his arms vibrate. He pushed away, counterattacking with a more stable, more confident slash, surprised by the strength he put into it.

  When the last puppet man fell, Nico stood motionless for a few seconds. His legs were shaking, his hands were throbbing, and his sword felt as heavy as concrete.

  Dan put a hand on his shoulder, more gently this time. Nico felt only the warmth of his touch, a sudden anchor in the chaos. He nodded, breathless, his face beaded with sweat. He was still afraid: afraid of being hit and, now that his mind was clearer, afraid of having hit someone he knew.

  He pressed the sword against his thigh, trying to stop the trembling. Ahead of them, the corridor stretched clear. He didn't look at the ground. He raised his head, looking only ahead.

  Gareth sheathed his sword and Nico did the same. He immediately started running, his hand already on the hilt. Leo and Dan followed him in silence, but Nico could feel his heart beating loudly, a dull thud in his chest. The pain in his chest from the blows inflicted by Corvin and Sylan in the fistfight in the armory was returning.

  “We have to cross the whole palace... the Tower of Magic is on the west side,” Gareth murmured, breathless.

  Nico thought back to the royal palace as seen from the outside: it seemed like an impossible journey.

  They climbed the first flight of spiral stairs, coiled around itself like a snake; each step echoed against the walls. Nico couldn't help thinking that the noise might attract someone. The air smelled of dust and smoke.

  They emerged into a dark corridor, lit only by the light filtering through the windows. A shrill scream rang out from somewhere ahead.

  Leo froze suddenly.

  “Move,” whispered Nico, placing a hand on his shoulder. Leo nodded.

  They crossed the gallery and took a side staircase, which was narrower and steeper. The screams grew louder, overlapping with metallic noises and crashes. They turned into another corridor: a series of arches connected the east side to the heart of the palace, and from there a double staircase led up to the Throne Room.

  The stairs were wide, but the glass in the side windows had exploded; the night wind made the flames of the hanging lamps dance.

  From a window overlooking an inner courtyard, Nico saw soldiers in armor running with their swords drawn, their white cloaks fluttering behind them.

  They reached a large hall. The enormous alarm bell boomed above their heads.

  “There it is,” said Gareth, pointing to a tower that stood out like a bright white arrow against the black sky. “We have to cross the covered bridge.”

  The bridge was a corridor enclosed by heavy stained-glass windows. Nico was breathing heavily, his breath burning.

  Gareth froze. Footsteps echoed across the bridge. In the moonlight filtering through the side windows, Nico saw two figures approaching: enormous shadows.

  “Ah, there you are,” said a familiar voice.

  The two figures stepped into the moonlight. Celeste, her clothes in disarray and her wavy hair shining in the light, stopped. Next to her was Kiah, her face a mask of fear and determination, her dark curls exploding around her face.

  Kiah sighed and ran to embrace Nico. “How wonderful... we found you.” Then she turned to Leo; they both hesitated for a moment before she held out her hand, and Leo shook it with a mixture of embarrassed relief.

  Nico noticed Gareth's gaze toward Celeste: suppressed anger and sincere relief intertwined. Kiah turned to Dan, hugged him, then asked, “What are you doing here? It's so good to see you... but I wish I didn't have to see you in this terrible situation...” she said, adjusting the bulging bag on her shoulder.

  Dan smiled affectionately at her: “A true minstrel is found where there is danger, otherwise how can you come up with new songs?”

  Kiah laughed.

  Celeste looked at Gareth with wide eyes, as if she understood what was happening. “They attacked us...” she said. To Nico, that sentence seemed loaded with implications between the two.

  Gareth nodded, his face contorted with frustration. “Come on, we can't stay here. Follow me.”

  They entered a new corridor. Gareth and Celeste led the way, while Dan, knives at the ready, brought up the rear.

  “What's going on?” asked Kiah, running alongside Nico and Leo.

  “We don't know,” Nico whispered, breathless.

  Leo added, “We were attacked by people who had turned into zombies. It was crazy... terrible, but crazy.”

  Nico looked at Kiah. “Maybe we knew them...” he whispered.

  Above the tolling of bells, the screams, shouts, and clanging of metal grew louder and louder. Nico barely had time to realize that this was the sound of battle when he saw them.

  Three enormous beings leapt out from behind a corner, right in front of them. Nico saw them emerge from the darkness like monsters from a nightmare: their mouths wide open, distorting their faces in an eternal, silent scream that vibrated not in the air but in their bones. Around them, the light faded. The cold intensified.

  Nico's heart began to race as he watched the three monsters charge forward with blades of shadow raised in the air. Gareth moved into position with his sword drawn. “Watch out for the black fluid, unless you want to become one of them.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Three. Three?! One is never enough, is it?!” Leo muttered, taking a step back and almost tripping.

  Gareth roared, “Grampasso, get ready with your bow.” Nico nocked an arrow, hoping to hit his mark, and noticed two thin daggers sticking out of Leo's jacket sleeves.

  “Silver, you go to the front line. Longfoot, you get ready too.”

  “What? But I suck with a sword,” Leo muttered.

  “You two,” Gareth continued, looking at Celeste, “stay back.”

  Celeste, huddled against the wall, whispered, “The Nothing is in Taynor's palace...” Nico thought she looked upset.

  Gareth's voice continued, but Nico heard it as an echo: “That is his offspring: the Nerakth. These weapons are imbued with light, the result of the sorcerers' spells. We can defeat them.”

  Gareth charged. A Nerakth lunged at him: Gareth crouched to avoid the blow and struck the creature with his sword. The monster fell, growling, but two more quickly approached.

  Nico fired an arrow. He saw it pierce the eye of a Nerakth; the tip emitted a faint glow, as if light were radiating from the point of impact. The creature let out a shrill, broken sound, like a fragmented, metallic scream, and held its wound with its long, unnatural hands. It stared at him with its single black eye, and the roar grew fiercer.

  Nico backed away, feeling the need to put some distance between them.

  One of the daggers Leo was holding flew towards the Nerakth that was aiming at Nico: it missed its target and hit the other one in the throat instead. The latter collapsed, gasping for breath on the floor. Nico dropped his bow and grabbed his sword, ready for hand-to-hand combat. He charged with a slash from above, but realized too late that he had left his side exposed. Dan threw two daggers, weapons that seemed useless against these beings made of shadow. Gareth yanked Nico back, causing him to fall; he felt the Nerakth's blade graze his side, a sharp burning sensation as if his skin had been torn by a red-hot hand, leaving a throbbing pain.

  A ball of light shot across the hallway and struck the monster in the chest. Kiah turned to them and smiled, but her eyes were so wide that Nico thought they were about to pop out of their sockets. The Nerakth fell, thrashing and delirious. Gareth finished it off with a blow to the chest.

  Gareth looked around, his gaze cold and calculated. “The corridor is clear.” He held out his hand to Nico, who took it. “If you wanted to get yourself killed, you were in a very good position.”

  “Hey! Take it easy, buddy,” Leo grunted.

  “No, he's right, I was reckless,” Nico admitted, then turned to Kiah: “Thanks. I see your block has worn off.”

  Kiah nodded with a slight, embarrassed smile.

  “We have to get out of here,” said Gareth, sheathing his sword.

  “Where to?” asked Celeste, her voice breaking.

  “The palace is lost.”

  “You can't say that. My father, the others... we have to stay, we have to fight.”

  Gareth's voice was harsh: “Your father condemned himself the moment he allowed outsiders into Taynor. The offspring of Nothingness hide themselves. Who knows how many, knowingly or unknowingly, have entered here to transform and destroy.”

  Nico frowned. He understood bits and pieces: he sensed they were talking about the king and a decision that had been made, but he didn't have all the information.

  “This isn't good,” Dan muttered under his breath as he picked up one of his throwing knives from the floor, his gaze fixed on the end of the corridor.

  Nico shifted his gaze to follow Dan's line of sight.

  From the corner where the Nerakth had emerged, several figures appeared, not giant, distorted shadows, just men. First three, then five, then a dozen: they moved like disjointed puppets, with unnatural jerks, their heads bent, their arms hanging down and then rising suddenly as if pulled by invisible strings. Nico felt a chill run up his arms as he watched them advance toward them. And behind those first ones, more shadows were advancing, more and more.

  “Holy salami...” Leo muttered.

  “We won't make it,” said Kiah, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  Most of them were royal guards. Nico could see their armor and cloaks, once white, now stained with the black substance that the Nerakth dripped from their limbs. Now the sounds of battle they had heard before the attack made sense: those men had tried to defend the royal palace and ended up transformed into puppets of the Void.

  Nico sheathed his sword, picked up his bow from the ground, nocked an arrow, and fired. He hit one of the monsters in the chest: it fell forward, lifeless, then got up as if someone were pulling it up from behind. Leo threw a dagger and knocked down another one, hitting it in the eye; that body remained motionless on the ground, but behind it, two more were already advancing. Kiah threw another glowing sphere that smashed a figure against the wall, but that one also began to writhe and get up.

  Gareth took a couple of steps forward, blew off a puppet man's head and sent him to the ground, but other figures were converging from the side corridor, closing off every possible exit. Only the path behind them remained open.

  “There are too many of them, we have to run,” whispered Celeste, her eyes wide as saucers, her hands trembling.

  They took a few steps back as they continued to strike their blows. Nico nocked another arrow as he watched Gareth advance, strike, and retreat. Master Don's mustachioed face flashed into Nico's field of vision, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the large windows.

  A powerful, irregular ball of light illuminated the approaching figures, too many to count, as Celeste's hoarse voice screamed, “We have to go!”

  Nico saw Mastro Don collapse to the ground and remain motionless under the blow. A bitter taste rose in his throat and he swallowed with difficulty, his gaze darting from one point to another. They weren't going to make it.

  In a panic, he searched through the character's file, scrolling through the skills looking for a way out, a way to log out of the game, but every entry returned the same word: “ERROR.”

  Dan stepped forward, right in front of them all. He was holding two throwing knives, the blades clenched between his fingers. “Go!” he roared.

  “No!” Nico exploded, almost without realizing he had spoken, and shot an arrow that lodged itself in a puppet's arm. Kiah shook her head, her eyes wide. Leo cursed something, choked. Gareth nodded to Dan, a brief glance, full of respect; then he grabbed Nico and Leo by their tunics and pulled them back forcefully. “Go!” he shouted. Celeste stood frozen, a mixture of fear and amazement.

  “We have to go!” Gareth repeated, dragging them away as Nico tried to turn around.

  “Go!” Dan shouted again, and in the soft moonlight illuminating the corridor, Nico saw him hurl a shower of metal blades at the wall of silhouettes, in a resistance already lost.

  Nico felt tears burning his eyes as they ran, the image of Dan facing that tangle of puppets etched in his mind: a desperate, futile resistance, but one that was giving them a chance to escape.

  They followed Gareth in silence, ears pricked. He walked, and they followed him like shadows lagging behind.

  Nico felt stiff, almost numb. He was short of breath and his chest felt tight, as if he couldn't take a full breath. His hands were shaking, and he clenched his fists, trying to keep them still.

  The corridor they entered was empty in both directions. Nico felt slightly dizzy, enough to slow him down a little. Leo and Kiah were close by, but he could only hear his friend, small, muffled sobs as she wiped her eyes, which were streaming silent tears, with the back of her hand. He swallowed several times, unable to shake the lump in his throat.

  They entered a narrow staircase that led downwards. His knees felt weak and he had to concentrate not to give way.

  The small door at the end opened. The smell of damp and dust hit his nose, pungent. Leo, next to him, coughed slightly. Nico's eyes stung, and he blinked a couple of times to focus.

  Two torches hung on either side of the door. Gareth took one, then handed another to Nico. “You bring up the rear.”

  “Where are we?” Nico whispered when the door was closed.

  “The sewers,” Gareth said curtly.

  They walked one behind the other: Celeste behind Gareth, then Leo, Kiah, and finally him, bringing up the rear. As the rear guard, he felt responsible for checking what was behind them. He turned around, and the black darkness of the tunnel unsettled him. He put one hand on his sword, moving the torch to his other hand, ready to draw his weapon if necessary.

  Nico wrinkled his nose when the smell became more pungent and his eyes began to burn. After a few steps, his foot landed in a puddle; he felt the moisture seeping between his toes.

  “Where are we going?” asked Leo, his voice hoarse.

  “It doesn't matter, I've prepared everything,” said Gareth, in a tone that brooked no reply.

  “It seems you expected this,” said Celeste, with a mixture of disgust and anger.

  “I warned the King. I warned everyone that this would happen, but you didn't want to listen to me,” Gareth growled in a low voice, probably so as not to be heard beyond those walls.

  "We needed to form an expedition, to fortify our army. You know that better than I do," Celeste retorted, her voice too loud. Nico looked up instinctively, hoping that no one was walking above them and that no one had heard them.

  Leo hissed, echoing her concerns: “Hey, blonde, keep it down or you'll get us caught.”

  Celeste turned abruptly, her eyes narrowed to slits, glaring at Leo.

  Gareth continued, “We could have taken him out. Instead, we allowed the Nothing to enter our walls.”

  “You have no right to talk to me like that, Gareth,” Celeste roared.

  The sword master said no more.

  They walked for what seemed like hours to Nico. The silence was broken only by the faint sound of water flowing in the distance and the squelching of their footsteps. His feet ached and his stomach growled loudly, making him blush.

  Nico reopened the skills panel and the character sheet: the ERROR message was still there. He leaned toward Kiah and whispered, “Hey, Kiah, please... try opening the skills sheet. What do you see?”

  Kiah jumped, then turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I don't know,” Nico said, shaking his head. “But it's not good.”

  “Do you think it has something to do with the attack?” Kiah asked. Nico thought about how logical his friend was, even in the midst of all this chaos.

  He shook his head. “I don't know. I don't open the skills panel very often, I'm not sure...”

  He fell silent. He didn't want to reveal to her, at that moment, that he didn't have any video games at home and that's why he found difficult what was easy for others.

  “You know... it's been a hectic few days,” he concluded, as vaguely as possible.

  Kiah nodded. "I understand. But I always check. Especially after I got stuck at the stuffed bear, when I couldn't get the flame to start. Since then, I've been checking everything obsessively, but everything was fine. Now, though..."

  Leo turned to look at them. “What are you talking about?” he asked, and Gareth growled an expletive, ordering everyone to be quiet.

  They waited a few moments. Then Nico spoke again: “At midnight we'll leave. Do you know what time it is?”

  Kiah shook her head. “I heard the bell strike eight before the attack, then nothing.”

  “How can we leave if we're stuck in here?” asked Nico.

  Leo grumbled, turning toward them with a hoarse mutter. “These guys,” he said, pointing to Celeste and Gareth ahead of them, “I think they're going to leave us in here to be eaten by rats.”

  Nico nodded and Kiah sighed. “We just have to hope we get out of here before the countdown starts.”

  The narrow tunnel widened. They entered a small underground square with stone columns carved into the slippery rock. A faint blue light filtered through cracks in the wall. Nico leaned over the stone platform they were standing on and saw a deep black river glimmering below them, at least as it appeared to him at that moment, like a dark abyss.

  Finally, Gareth broke the silence: “We're here. Get ready to jump.”

  “What?” asked Leo, wrinkling his freckled nose, which stood out in the torchlight, his eyes as big as saucers.

  “I can't. All my books will get wet!” exclaimed Kiah, in a flash of inconsistency.

  “I'm sorry. It's the only way. Leave them here, they're just useless weight. I would have told you right away, but I didn't notice how much you were carrying,” Gareth said with forced calm; it was clear that his patience was running out.

  “I'm not leaving my books here,” Kiah replied curtly.

  “Fine,” Gareth roared, trying to remain calm, his hand clenched into a fist. “Then you'll stay here.”

  “Give them to me,” said Celeste defiantly. She stared at Gareth as she reached out her hand to Kiah. “I'm a very good swimmer.”

  “Well, so am I...” Kiah murmured hesitantly.

  “Give them to me,” said Gareth irritably, in a tone that brooked no argument. “It'll be easier for everyone.”

  Kiah, distressed, handed him the bag with a tight smile, her eyes fixed on her precious books. “You're not going to leave them here, are you?” she said in a soft voice; then she recovered, her eyes flashing. “Because if you do, you'll have me to deal with.”

  Gareth narrowed his eyes to slits. “Oh, I can imagine,” he said, and Nico saw the shadow of a smile flicker across his face.

  “Who's first?” Gareth asked.

  Leo muttered something under his breath, his eyes wide and his hands clenching the hem of his tunic.

  Nico looked over again: it was a long way down, at least six feet. His heart began to pound in his chest. “I'll go,” he said, before his body could decide to back out.

  “Are you crazy?” said Leo, at the edge of his field of vision. Nico stared only at the void, knowing that the water below would envelop him in an icy embrace.

  He handed the torch to Leo and, without waiting for any signal, jumped.

  The icy water hit him, swallowing him up. Darkness. Then a vision: hard eyes, sharp as blades. A twinge in his side, where the Nerakth had struck him. Then he saw Dan: the crooked smile behind his salt-and-pepper beard, the lute in his hands, as he sang:

  They will show you shining swords and bows,

  glittering with enchantments and bright light,

  “They are for hunting the ferocious Nerakth,”

  Dan's smile twisted into a painful grimace as a puppet man grabbed him. That being dripped black, oily matter from every orifice: nose, eyes, mouth, ears, and from the wound in his torn chest.

  “Shadows that the Nothingness gave birth to every night.”

  They were men once, you know,

  now they walk twisted and silent,

  Nothingness consumes them from within,"

  Dan struck: punches, headbutts, knives thrown like silver slashes, but others grabbed him, tearing him, grabbing him, twisting him in every direction as everything that had been human changed.

  Then Dan let out a shrill scream, almost like a metallic glitch:

  “...until all that remains is hunger and the sound of teeth.”

  Nico opened his eyes with a start, horrified by the vision. Darkness enveloped him and his chest was clenched in a vice of pain. He swam instinctively upwards. He moved with difficulty: the sword pulled him down. He put his head out of the water and took a breath of air as if it were the first of his life.

  “Are you okay?” Kiah shouted from above, her voice broken, amplified by the echo.

  Nico nodded, waving his hand. A new pain shot through his side. The water stung everywhere: on his hands, scraped raw from striking blows and polishing weapons; on his face, still sore from the punches he had received; and on his side, where the Nerakth's wound burned like salt.

  Kiah repeated the question and Nico, tired, deaf, exhausted, shouted, “Everything's fine!”

  “Now swim to that wall you found in front of you when we got here, and when you get there, dive under!” Gareth shouted, barely drowning out the roar of the water, which, so low down, Nico perceived as a raging torrent. Probably, he thought, it was the river where the building's sewage ended up.

  “Go down at least a couple of meters, feeling your way with every stroke. You'll find a crack a little bigger than a barrel. Go through it. Once out, reach the beach.”

  Nico was nervous. He had never been a great swimmer. He had learned at the parish summer camp, where his grandmother had sent him when he was taking catechism classes. He had been self-taught, and on more than one occasion he had found himself in trouble. Once his cousin Bruno had seen him struggling, his head just above the water, trying to push himself towards the bottom of the pool by touching the bottom with his big toe. Bruno, in a fit of pity or mercy, had asked him, “Do you want a hand?”

  Nico couldn't answer, he would have lost the little air that kept him afloat, but he reached out his hand, and Bruno grabbed it. Since then, Nico had had an almost reverential fear of water.

  He nodded and swam to the wall. The rock was smooth and slimy; Nico imagined it was covered with the slime that rocks have.

  He took a breath and dove down.

  He felt blindly for the slippery stone: he couldn't see anything in the darkness, and his heart was still pounding with fear of that gaze that seemed to torment him. He had an absurd terror that something was watching him down there. Then higher up there was the pain, for Dan, that last image, a mixture of reality and imagination, which kept re-emerging in his thoughts as if the darkness itself were blowing it at him.

  He rose to the surface, failing. He had found nothing.

  As he caught his breath, he heard Leo's voice echoing from above: “GERONIMO!”.

  Nico laughed softly, leaning against the smooth rock, and took another breath. He dove down again, while the thud of a body hitting the water vibrated around him like a muffled explosion.

  He found the hole. His lungs burned, and he was torn between continuing or going back up. He made his choice. He passed through the opening.

  The pressure of the water crushed his eardrums; his chest felt like it was about to explode. The walls were very narrow: he pushed himself with his feet, feeling the rock with his hands, forehead, and knees, hoping to feel, sooner or later, a space, an opening that would bring him back to the air.

  His mouth opened in a silent scream; a wave of salt water flooded his throat. Then, suddenly, the walls disappeared: first his right hand, then his head, then his legs slipped past the narrow passage. Involuntarily, gasping for air, he swallowed water, a heavy, salty mouthful that scratched his throat. He pushed himself upward in a desperate surge, clinging to that bluish, round, perfect light that beckoned him beyond the surface.

  He broke through the water and breathed deeply, gasping in pain as he coughed up water.

  When he recovered, he looked around. Taynor's royal palace stood on the cliff behind him, silhouetted against a black sky that seemed to smear the white grandeur of the building with that oily substance.

  Below the cliff, in a natural inlet in the rock, was a small strip of land, a small beach. He could see it thanks to a dim light, perhaps a flickering torch, helping him to make out the shore beyond the moonlight.

  With tired, weak strokes, he finally reached the beach. He threw himself onto the sand, his face pressed against the ground, gasping between coughs, grateful to be there, back on dry land.

  Part of her brain knew that he was in her bed, wearing a headset that simulated all of this, but when she had nearly drowned earlier, the game had not stopped or paused. She had seen the air leaving her lungs, and the fear of dying had taken over. He knew that in dreams, when you dream of dying, you wake up because your brain can't handle the idea; there, however, the simulation hadn't stopped.

  He heard the others coming up behind him, who were obviously better swimmers and had been faster. A new twinge in his side made him cringe and his breathing became wheezy.

  He turned onto his back with difficulty. The starry sky, like a monitor dotted with codes, flickered in his field of vision. When he felt better, he tried to sit up, not without pain.

  “Are you okay?” asked Kiah.

  Nico nodded.

  All five of them were safe. Leo looked around in confusion, while Kiah took the bag of books from Gareth's shoulders as he came out of the water, muttering a thank you. Celeste looked up, her eyes burning with tears, probably because she had lost her home.

  “There they are,” roared a male voice, raspy as sandpaper, behind Nico. “So, what's stopping me from selling you to the highest bidder now?”

  Nico turned, his eyes wide. The man was five feet tall, maybe less. He had enormous shoulders and a swollen belly as hard as a watermelon. His beard and long hair covered eighty percent of his face, leaving only his lively, cunning eyes visible behind the reddish hair.

  “Well, Fill, I think I'm the highest bidder,” said Gareth with a sad smile.

  The two shook hands and the dwarf pulled Gareth toward him, crushing him in an embrace. Nico breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Lucky I was around.”

  Gareth nodded. “Is everything there?”

  Fill nodded. “But you have more cargo than agreed,” said the dwarf, nodding to Nico, Leo, and Kiah.

  Gareth looked at them and nodded. “They'll work if needed, and that's the difference,” he said, throwing Fill a leather bag that jingled when the dwarf caught it.

  Fill laughed. “Fine. The trip will be a little longer than usual, though. I have a load in RedBridge, then I'll drop you off.”

  “Fill, I paid for...”

  “I'm sorry, buddy. These are dark times. You have to grab whatever you can.”

  Then he looked in Nico's direction and walked toward him. Nico thought he wanted to introduce himself, shake his hand, but the dwarf walked past him. Instead, he knelt in front of Celeste and took her hand.

  “Princess Nadia, you are even more beautiful than I dared imagine. It is an honor for me to welcome you aboard my humble vessel.”