Deep in the catacombs of the Pause, Nagienvik almost felt safe. Almost. The Pause had many dangers of its own, but this chamber was hers. It was home. She hadn’t had a home before becoming a Ferash Therall.

She sat on the bench by the fireplace in her workshop, sharpening the raven’s claw blades. Sylesh perched on her knee, watching intently. “Want to do this yourself?” she asked.

If I could, I would. Sylesh’s thought rang in her head. You know, Azvalath didn’t seem to suffer much from my strikes. Why not?

“It’s nothing to do with your blades,” she said. “I suspect he has at least partial resistance to Vraelen’s ichor. At least we got out alive.”

Yes, said Sylesh. But Sotka, will he be coming back?

Nagi paused. “Well, who’s with him?”

Sylesh preened himself aggressively. No one. I guess that answers my question.

“I’m afraid it does.” Nagi went back to honing the blades and tried not to think too hard about what might have happened.

Sylesh stretched his huge black wings. I don’t like what you’re thinking about. Can we play the tricking game?

She laughed a little. “I suppose so. Nothing too bizarre, please.”

The raven infiltrated her mind before she could even finish speaking. She kept working on his blades and tried to pretend nothing was happening.

After a while, Nagi looked back down at Sylesh. Except she realized immediately that it wasn’t Sylesh. Sylesh didn’t have white feathers. She stared at the bird in confusion. Then she laughed so loud it startled him off her knee. “Trick!”

I actually made you believe something really absurd for a second. Sylesh hopped back up. I’m proud of myself.

“Only for a second, though. Surely you can do better.” She started working on the next blade, but it snapped as soon as she ran it across the whetstone. “Really?” Nagi rolled her eyes and picked up the broken piece. “Well, at least these aren’t too hard to make. Easier than blades for humans.” She turned the broken bit in her fingers. “Also, trick.”

You got me, said Sylesh. A second later, she was holding an intact claw blade and the broken piece had vanished entirely.

“No, that was pretty good,” she admitted. “You’re getting a lot better at tactile illusions. You actually managed to make me feel something that wasn’t really there. Next, try one with more than two senses. Can you do it?”

Sylesh hopped from Nagienvik’s knee to her shoulder. Something’s wrong.

“Trick,” she said. “You’re not even trying.”

I’m serious, said Sylesh. Put my blades back on.

The door to the workshop opened slowly. The fire’s light poured out into the passage, revealing Sotka. Something about him looked different even in the dim light. Then the smell hit her. Their neighbor reeked of blood and rot. She gagged. “Sylesh, this isn’t funny. Stop.”

I’m not doing anything! Sylesh looked up and screeched at their unwelcome guest. This isn’t me. I swear.

Sotka’s head trembled. He drew in a long, wheezing breath. “Hello, neighbors,” he choked. “I have shown the master how to get here!”

“Our master’s already here,” said Nagienvik, “and he can’t leave. That’s why we’re even here to begin with. What’s wrong with you?”

He stepped closer. When Nagienvik saw the hole in his chest, she nearly vomited. He fell to his knees in front of her. “All done,” he said. “All finished.”

Then he collapsed to the floor. Nagienvik nudged him with her foot. He was dead, without a doubt. Sylesh shared his thoughts frantically. Remember our wolf? I heard that wolf inside his head. His name is Akyvak. He hasn’t become a Ferash Therall. In fact, he isn’t even close at this point. He’s…

Nagi cut him off. “Slow down. I can’t take so much at once. First, tell me, is this even real? Was he real, or was that a krall?”

Why would he be a krall? He hasn’t disintegrated. Sylesh hopped down and examined the corpse. He’s certainly not alive, though. He wasn’t even alive when he walked in.

Nagi backed away. “Whatever this is, I don’t like it.”

He was reanimated. That’s the wolf’s power. Sylesh spouted the information like it was common knowledge. I can find out a lot from a few seconds in someone’s head. Don’t judge me. It’s what I do.

“I…I’m not judging,” she insisted. “Who killed him? Why did he come back here?”

Azvalath killed him. Who else? That wound looks about the right size to have been dealt by Silence. Before Nagi could ask what that meant, he added on. Silence. That’s what Azvalath calls his sword, but he’s embarrassed to tell anyone that he named an inanimate object.

“That’s completely irrelevant. Why did he come back here? Did you get that part?” she asked.

I suspect “the master” is actually the wolf. He showed the wolf how to get here. Which means we might have a visitor soon. The raven looked up. Or more than one.

Nagienvik bit her lip. Then she laughed bitterly. “You know what I think this is? While I was tied up in their stable, I overheard that the eccentric woman in charge of that rat pack in Teron wants to take the conflict here. To us. Too bad mortals don’t know how to survive in the Pause. The kralls will get them in a snap.”

If they can even figure out how to get here. The blueholes switch their outlet locations fairly often. I suppose that spirit really doesn’t like being followed.

“The bluehole spirit? His name is Sothyrion. He’s a minor earth god. Son of Vraelen, actually, but not necessarily our ally.” Nagienvik picked Sylesh up and put him on her arm. “I don’t think we need to go anywhere yet. The Sentinels said it wasn’t necessary to follow Azvalath and his company. Not while we’ve got them surrounded by Kai’rei.”

Kai’rei? The Ferash Therall who walk in daylight? Sylesh seemed confused. There are some there?

“Mm-hm. I learned that shortly after we returned, but you probably weren’t listening when the Sentinels told me. Get this, there are three of them, and a fourth coming. The whole clan can be killed if necessary,” she told him. “Or so they would have us believe.”

Sylesh dug his claws into her sleeve. Kill the whole clan? All of them? That seems quite extreme. He raised his hackles. Most of them aren’t Razaghal. I don’t like the sound of this, Nagi.

She looked down at the dead body on the floor. The sight made her shudder. Then she imagined a couple hundred such bodies and felt a wave of nausea. “I don’t like it either,” she admitted. “But I think it’s what has to happen.”

Why don’t we go to the Ferash Shrine and talk to Vraelen about this? Sylesh suggested.

“Hmm…and ask him about the wolf.” Nagienvik went to get Sylesh’s claw blades and reattached them to his feet. “There. You’re good to go.” She put her gauntlet on and made a fist for him to perch on. Then she put her free hand in the burning fireplace. The heat rushed through her in seconds. She relished the power for a moment before leaving the workshop with Sylesh. On her way out, she tried not to look at the corpse.

The tunnel outside was pitch black until their eyes illuminated. Kralls skittered away like cockroaches. Aside from Ferash Therall and the Ferash himself, the kralls were the only other inhabitants of the Pause. In the Forward, Vraelen had been able to create life. In the Pause, stripped of much of his old power, he could only create pathetic excuses for living things. He did not even create them on purpose. Kralls were the product of their god’s mind turning, nothing more.

Sylesh ducked as a birdlike krall with bones jutting out of its patchy feathers fluttered past him. Nagi heard it hit the floor and shatter behind them, but she didn’t even turn to look. Instead, she turned her attention to the walls. They were all covered in paintings and messages, some of which made more sense than others. There was one in particular that made Nagienvik pause, though she had seen it many times before.

It was a painting of a woman with stark white hair and skin tangled in the web of a gigantic spider. Below it was an equally strange message.

I cannot sleep, but I scream to wake up. Teacher, where are you? Teacher, I need you. I need you, but you’re not here. Am I so disgusting? Teacher, you said you cared, yet you ran away like I was a monster.

Kolo

“I’m asking the Sentinels about this,” said Nagienvik. “It gives me chills every time I see it.”

Who is Kolo? Sylesh asked. That name seems familiar.

The tunnel continued down for what felt like an eternity before they came to a large door. In front of the door lay two identical snow leopards, and in front of them lay an open book. One of them looked up. “Need names.” They spoke in unison, though one was still looking at the book.

“Nagienvik and Sylesh,” she said. “Come on. You know me, Sentinels. Or do you prefer Mahrag-and-Bahrag?”

“Yes. We know you. Why are you down here?” they asked. “It is not safe. The Reverse is infiltrating.”

“I think you say that every time we’re down here,” Nagi pointed out. “First, I have a question. Who is Kolo? We keep walking past her painting.”

“Kolo was a Ferash Therall whose teacher became a Kai’rei and left her behind. She was murdered while he was gone. He didn’t come back either.” They said nothing else.

“Hmm…” Nagi wasn’t sure what to make of that story. “Now let us in, would you?”

“You may pass.” They both stood up and let her walk past. She put Sylesh on her shoulder and used both hands to push the heavy door open. The shrine room was large and circular, with a huge spiral carved into the floor. At the center of that spiral was a round, impossibly deep silver pool. As Nagienvik stepped into the room, the spiral glowed white. The pool steamed and hissed.

Mahrag-and-Bahrag watched through the open door. Nagi knelt beside the pool. Sylesh hopped to the floor and sat next to her. “Valad, Ferash,” said Nagienvik. “Nagienvik and Sylesh. We seek counsel.”

The silver liquid sloshed. A deep and powerful woman’s voice raged in both their minds. “Your Ferash can’t be with you. But I can. Always. Come…come to me…you’ll never be alone…ever again…”

Sylesh cried out in alarm. Nagi clutched her ears. It wasn’t Vraelen. The Reverse really was infiltrating if they could hear Kaosaan, she thought. Kaosaan loathed the existence of all things and wanted to revert the universe to its correct state of emptiness. She was the fate of all that existed if Vraelen could not rise again to oppose her.

Slowly, the echoes of her voice faded away. Then Vraelen’s voice, softer and colder, replaced it. “Nagienvik. Sylesh. Are you both well?”

“Yes, master,” she said.

Sylesh spoke aloud. His voice was quiet, but it was there. “We regret our failure to dispatch Azvalath’s Razaghal pack, but Mahrag-and-Bahrag have informed us that those Razaghal are already surrounded and that the entire Teron clan may be killed in their pursuit. Is this truly the way?”

After a moment of silence, Vraelen replied. “My dear Sylesh, we must do what is necessary, even if it breaks our hearts. Though I offer you a proposal. Go now – alone – and take out the Razaghal before the Kai’rei do. I will give the order two days after the Grinner arrives. Return when you are finished, and no one must die needlessly.”

Sylesh looked up at Nagienvik and spoke to her mind. I’m sorry, Nagi. Hypnotically, he took off and flew out the door, leaving her alone.

“Wait!” she called, but the door slammed shut. She looked down at the pool and screamed. “My sahad. You sent him away. You have doomed us both! Why?”

“Your sahad is changing in ways you refuse to see, Nagienvik. He is going astray. This is his test,” said Vraelen. “I have faith he will not fail.”

“But if he does? If he deserts? What happens to him then?” she demanded.

“Nagienvik.” He said her name firmly, cutting her off. “Do you know who the last one to desert us was?”

She bit her lip. “No, I don’t. But there’s something else I want to know first. Who is the Grinner?”

The silver pool grew still. Nagi stared down at it for what seemed like forever. Then, without warning, a clawed limb burst up from the pool and grabbed the edge. Nagi jumped and nearly fell. Then came another limb. It hauled itself out of the pool and shook itself off like a wet dog. It looked half-dog and half-human. It had Ferash Therall eyes, but it looked more like a krall than a comrade. The creature trembled and clawed at itself, tearing off strips of grayish membrane. Its wet, hairy tail thwacked against the floor.

“This is Sulinnadar,” said Vraelen. “His spirit resides in this krall. When this body disintegrates, he will be loosed.”

The creature licked itself aggressively, then looked up to meet her eyes. At the sight of her, its jaws parted in a wide, dog-toothed grin.

Nagienvik’s scream was loud enough to wake the dead.