Rowan’s stave fell from his shaking hands as he fought his body’s urge to keel over. The mysterious equation past Rowan had gifted him was imprinted right into the stave: this made managing its output far easier and safer for Rowan. Still, he had no idea what Morrigan was planning when she demanded he fire it; he had nary a clue how close he would come to killing Morrigan herself. If his attack missed its mark even by a hair’s length, the undiscerned energy would have connected with her flesh and hampered any attempt to close her forge ever again. And that’s just the potential of what could have happened, let alone what did happen. Seo was the opposition, but Rowan truly had no idea why. She didn’t really explain anything and he had no idea why they were at odds beyond her being fētis, a word Rowan still didn’t know the meaning of. Why did she have to die? Law, he killed her. It wasn’t Morrigan—Rowan killed her.

  “Law,” Rowan groaned as he hunched over.

  He did his best to keep it together up until the end, and—now that it was over—Rowan expelled his emotions along with his rations. The vomit pooled enough to touch the edges of his hands as Rowan tried to steady himself while on all fours.

  “Rowan?” Achaia called out, scampering over to him and rubbing his back.

  “What is the concern?” Morrigan asked, wiping her spit-covered fingers against her cloak. “You did well.”

  A compliment from Morrigan Queen. Rowan had spent so much of his life striving to be worthy of appreciation from those around him and no amount of holes in his memory could erase that truth. He could have never imagined he would get affirmation from the Morrigan Queen of all people. But it was for murder. Bloodshed.

  “She’s dead.” Rowan’s words shook from his vocal chords, too heavy to be uttered, but said just the same.

  “She was not a person," Morrigan hissed. "That creature was merely fētis. Nothing more.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Rowan yelled, hyperventilating.

  “It’s gonna be okay.” Achaia whispered, surely just saying whatever she thought would help Rowan through his concern.

  Yet she didn’t share his concern: no, she was more like Morrigan, having walked a path of bloodshed. Achaia was a victim, yet in such a moment of weakness, Rowan couldn’t help but wonder how much blood was on her small hands. Blood, which Morrigan has happily suckled off her fingertips.

  Rowan wiped the spittle from his mouth. “It’s just—”

  Morrigan fell to a knee, huffing and puffing ahead of Rowan.

  “What’s wrong?” Rowan asked, getting to his feet with Achaia’s assistance.

  “Movement." Morrigan snarled through gritted teeth. "Must be…the fētis.”

  Seo had mentioned a paralytic agent involved in the hazureeth’s swamp…body? Was the swamp part of its body? Was it just something hazureeths flocked to? Or perhaps it—no. Rowan had to focus. He sprinted over to the platform, Achaia following him as he got to his bag.

  “C-can you describe your symptoms?” Rowan asked, looking through his bag for anything that could potentially aid in treating Morrigan’s paralysis.

  Morrigan growled in response—Rowan decided he’d take that to mean she couldn’t respond, not that she found him annoying. As he searched through the potential natural remedies in his bag, he couldn’t help but wonder why only Morrigan was dealing with the paralysis. Was it because she was barefoot? That and mayhap she spent the longest time in the goop of the swamp around them? Contrary to his usual fascinations, Rowan didn’t feel like such questions were productive, considering the circumstance.

  There wasn’t much in the vein of immediate solutions to an onset of paralysis at Rowan’s disposal. Typically such a scenario required the assistance of a physical therapist or high-tier equation, both of which were out of Rowan’s reach. Certainly there was no physical therapist in his bag, but Rowan did find a healthy chunk of galvible.

  “Hey, I found some galvible: with this, we could—”

  Rowan turned to Morrigan as he spoke, just in time to watch her get swallowed whole by what he could only assume to be the hazureeth.

  “She got eaten.” Achaia said matter-of-fact.

  “No, no, no.” Rowan stammered in a panic, dashing out to Morrigan to no avail.

  The hazureeth gulped her down and vanished beneath the murk.

  “No, no, no. Morrigan. Morrigan.” Rowan screamed out, clawing at the murk. “You, you coward. You flat-faced bottom feeder. Give her back.”

  Rowan screamed with tears blurring his vision. “I gotta…I gotta think.”

  Rowan ran back over to his bag and Achaia.

  “What do we do now?” Achaia asked, sitting on the platform.

  “Not sure, yet.” Rowan looked up at Achaia, out to the murky swamp, and back to his bag. “Turn around and watch the woods for me, okay?”

  “‘Kay.”

  Rowan’s fingers quickly found what he was looking for, opened the vial, and emptied the contents over himself.

  “You smell.” Achaia said, pinching her nose.

  “The hazureeth is some sort of big creature.” Rowan said as he began stripping to his underwear. He gripped his shirt tightly, hesitating before taking it off as well. “I don’t know what kind, but I do know it’s big. And big creatures generally do not digest quickly. You saw it eat her, right?”

  “In one bite.”

  “Yup. She’s alive.” Rowan said as he jumped off the platform and sat in the swamp. “And I’m gonna get her out.”

  “What if the has…”

  “Hazureeth.”

  “What if he’s full?”

  “He’s not.”

  “‘Kay.”

  He had no idea if the creature was full. The hazureeth could kill for sport or maybe it ate once every mark—Rowan had no way of knowing the characteristics and habits of a creature he didn’t know existed until earlier today. He simply sat completely still and hoped for the best.

  “How are you going to break out of its tummy?” Achaia asked.

  “That stinky stuff I poured on myself? It’s called pelial: a single drop of the ground up herb mixed with water induces vomiting. So what do you think a full bottle of the stuff will do to Mr. Hazureeth?”

  “He’s gonna blow chunks.”

  Rowan sat and tried to breathe as quietly as possible; he tried to be as still as possible. Every second that passed Rowan by filled him with greater doubt. But Seo was so sure that the hazureeth would eat them all: it had to still have room for him. Just as he began to wonder if he was wasting time, the swampland rippled once again. Rowan held his breath and repeated an old nursery rhyme in his head, terrified of what would come next.

  Old man Muckbrooks up on the hill

  He had 10 billbucks, he has 10 still

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  One billbuck saw a breadcrumb trail

  And away it went past Cattlebee Vale

  Old man Muckbrooks up on the hill

  He had 10 billbucks, he has 9 still

  One billbuck got doused in ale

  Far too drunk to stay in Cattlebee Vale

  Old man Muckbrooks up on the hill

  He had 10 billbucks, he has 8 still

  One billbuck—

  Rowan kept his eyes closed as he felt the hazureeth’s throat muscles attempt to force him down its gullet. Only as his world went dark did Rowan stop and ask himself whether pelial was even guaranteed to work on some creature of the offscape. He’d slipped further down into the beast than he thought he would, viscous mucus and saliva glooping across his body. Any reaction came later than he'd hoped, but sure enough, Rowan felt a harsh propulsion as he was pushed right back out the way he came in. Rowan opened his eyes to the purple miasma overhead: a sure sign he was alive. He could hear the heaves and croaks of the hazureeth beside him as he scrambled to his feet. He looked around: no Morrigan amidst the vomitus.

  “Hey, come on. Give her up.” Rowan panted, smacking goop and vomit off him as he spoke.

  The hazureeth continued heaving, but seemed adamant to hold onto its lunch. The creature was disgusting to look at, now that Rowan had a good view of it above the surface. It was flat-faced—likely for covert skimming on the surface of the swamp—with a bloated belly and four flippers along its scaly flesh. Interestingly enough, though, there were no teeth to be had with the creature. The ugly, imposing creature that was trying to make a meal of Rowan’s kind-of-sort-of-friend.

  “Give. Her. Up.” Rowan screamed, kicking at the hazureeth’s head as it heaved.

  The impact wasn’t as bad as Rowan thought it would be: it was less like kicking concrete and more like kicking a wet ball of rubber. So Rowan kicked it again. And again. And again. It was rather cathartic.

  “I have been dragged by worms, attacked by an army of hands, enslaved, choked, punched, ridiculed, and I’m not about to let my friend become some stupid balloon fish’s meal. Give her back.”

  Rowan’s umpteenth kick caught the hazureeth’s eye, causing it to roar in pain. With an open mouth and the distraction of pain, the hazureeth released another bevy of bile and vomit, and with it one Morrigan Queen. She coughed and sputtered as Rowan grunted, doing his best to carry her away from it: it wasn’t working. She’d have to settle for being dragged.

  “Zchto,” Morrigan growled, spitting muck out of her mouth as Rowan did his best to orient her head away from the swampy surface beneath them.

  “Sorry.” Rowan grunted, pulling her toward the platform. “You’re heavy.”

  “I am not heavy." Morrigan hissed as she was dragged up against the platform. "You are simply weak, ridinr?.”

  Rowan heaved, barely having enough strength left over to pull himself onto the platform. He looked down at Morrigan—who didn’t seem any worse for wear—and over to Achaia: everyone was okay.

  “Good. That’s good.” Rowan muttered as he laid back.

  He pulled his log from his discarded pile of clothes and jotted the sequence for the Panacea equation.

  “Can you and your glowbobs make this pretty picture on Morrigan?” Achaia looked at Rowan’s paper and to Morrigan down below them. She looked at the hazureeth in the distance as well, still heaving and spasming.

  “It’s okay, neither of them can move.” Rowan panted, trying his best to assuage Achaia’s concerns.

  Achaia stepped off the platform and landed back into the swamp with a splorch.

  “Yuck.” She muttered as she began conducting the vi around her.

  Rowan smiled as he watched her work, having caught his breath: she was such a natural. The Panacea equation, contrary to its name, was not a cure-all remedy; no, it was more apropos to call it a curative of basic ailments. Rowan wasn’t even sure if it could handle the paralysis, but—now that the hazureeth wasn’t lurking and they had the time to have Achaia attempt it—he figured it was worth a try.

  “No, over there.”

  “The glowbobs giving you grief?” Rowan teased.

  “They’re just being a bit difficult.”

  “Tsk.” Morrigan sucked her teeth as she was forced to await Achaia’s assistance.

  Eventually the sequence was completed and directed to Morrigan, who felt her muscles relax: her body returning to her direction once again. Achaia scrambled back up the platform when she noticed Morrigan’s movement.

  “Thank you, Fig. Don’t forget to wipe that muck off your feet: we don’t need you getting paralyzed too.” Rowan said as he tossed his shirt back on and dropped back into the swamp.

  After retrieving his stave, he turned to Morrigan.

  “Are you okay?” Rowan asked as he stood over Morrigan, a hand extended for her to take.

  “Isold??” Morrigan muttered groggily, rubbing her eyes.

  “I’m sorry?” Rowan asked as Morrigan slapped his hand away.

  “Zchto, offscape trickery. Let us not speak of it.” Morrigan scoffed, climbing up to the platform.

  “Right.” Rowan said.

  There wasn’t any shortage of confusions to be had in the swamp. Ultimately, Rowan was simply happy everyone was okay. He pulled himself back onto the platform as Morrigan grabbed the canteen from his bag, guzzling his water.

  “That’s all the water we have left, I think.”

  “Necessary.” Morrigan huffed, wiping her mouth and dropping Rowan’s empty canteen.

  “Okay,” Rowan responded, unable to hide the annoyance in his tone. Morrigan turned to Rowan, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “It’s just that”—Rowan paused, debating if his concerns were worth broaching at all, but continued after taking a moment to look at Achaia—“you could stand to say thank you.”

  “Ridinr?: you forget yourself." Morrigan scoffed, doing her best to wipe hazureeth bile and vomitus from her personage as she spoke. "You are but a tool for my mission. Your pet is an extension of that.”

  “You can’t honestly believe that.” Rowan said, pulling his trousers up his waist and reaching for his boots. When they were firm and back on his feet, he continued. “The records spoke of your bond with your comrades. Surely you didn’t see them as—”

  “Mada.” Morrigan shouted as she stepped back off the platform and over to the hazureeth: it was still gasping from the pelial-soaked Rowan.

  Empty of any contents in its stomach and likely above the surface far longer than it ought to have been, the creature was dehydrated and was reasonably slated to die. That wasn’t enough for Morrigan Queen, though, who cracked a bone knife off a finger and began stabbing the hazureeth in its head. The first stab likely killed it, but Morrigan did not relent. She rasped angrily as she stabbed the creature again and again.

  “I am the hero who freed life from the clutches of tyranny so long ago. I am the lone survivor who inherited the wills of her fallen comrades. This is my story and—”

  “And you’d be dead right now, if it wasn’t for us.” Rowan retorted, thankful Morrigan was out of reach as he immediately regretted his verbal jab at her.

  Morrigan gritted her teeth, seething as the bone knife snapped in her tight grip. She marched over to Rowan, who hadn’t budged an inch, and snatched him up by his collar. Before she spoke again, the very swamp groaned and trembled. Morrigan, eyeing the expanse past her party, released Rowan. Rowan placed his canteen back in his pack and threw his cloak back on.

  “What’s…” Achaia’s question trailed off as she huddled close to Rowan, the swampland decaying before the trio’s eyes.

  Perhaps this was a consequence of the swamp’s organic apparatus having been slain? Seo spoke of the hazureeth and the swamp as if they were one and the same, but was she simply referencing a mutual relationship, or did she literally mean it? Questions abounded as the hazureeth’s corpse bubbled open slowly.

  “I think we should go,” Rowan said as Morrigan stared the corpse down.

  Yet, out of the corner of his eye, it was Seo’s corpse that caught Rowan’s attention.

  “Morrigan.” Rowan grabbed her shoulder, pointing to Seo, who slowly got to her feet.

  Her eyes were lifeless, yet the hole in her chest flickered with a yellow aura.

  “Run.” Morrigan barked.

  Before Rowan could even decide what to do about Achaia, Morrigan had already snatched the girl up, holding her like luggage as she sprinted. With Achaia taken care of, though the distress in her eyes could have been from the sudden situation or Morrigan’s spiriting her away—Rowan wasn’t sure which it was—Rowan ran off with them, doing his best to keep Morrigan’s pace. Through twists and turns, dying trees quivered and slumped as the team egressed with expediency.

  “What are we running—”

  “Mada.” Morrigan barked.

  When the trees opened up to the familiar emptiness of the offscape wastes, Morrigan tossed Achaia like a children’s ball and pushed. Rowan grunted as he hit the cold ground, the wind escaping his lungs as he looked up to Morrigan.

  “Why in the…” Rowan’s words died in his throat as he saw an amber chain in the distance, closing in on the party.

  He looked to Morrigan, who was absolutely petrified.

  “Morrigan?”

  There was no response as the chain grew closer.

  “Morrigan.”

  Rowan screamed as his eyes focused on the chain nearing them. Like a predator with too many options to target, the chain diverted its attention at the last moment, diving toward Rowan. Rowan squeezed his eyes shut and looked away, unsure of what to do.

  “Repono.” Morrigan responded, finally—it was another word Rowan simply couldn’t understand, but her voice did prompt him to open his eyes again.

  Morrigan’s hand had blocked the chain from reaching Rowan. An unusual shade of vi Rowan had never seen illuminated Morrigan’s hand. The chain creaked as it crackled against the vi, seemingly unable to pierce past the aura and reach her flesh. After a second, the chain was repelled entirely. It swirled in the air before striking out at the party again.

  “Repono.” Morrigan repeated, once again deflecting it.

  Rowan reached for his stave, trying to concentrate another burst of the mysterious equation while Morrigan maintained an impasse with the chain. Rowan winced as the blast released again, the recoil bouncing his shoulder blades off the ground. The shot was smaller than the previous concentrated blasts, but it aimed true and broke a link of the chain. The amber aura left the chain as it rattled onto the ground in an untidy pile.

  “Is that…” Rowan paused, panting as he sat up, his back sore as he nursed it with one hand. “Are we safe?”

  “Enough, mayhap.” Morrigan muttered, looking down at her hand.

  “What was that?” Achaia asked no one in particular.

  “Fētis?” Rowan asked.

  “Fētis.”