Wynona lingered behind after Loch and Trent, kicking at a volcanic rock moodily. If she could just change one thing about this situation… If she could just find a way to prove herself and be promoted or something, maybe it would make being on Tephra bearable. Or better yet, maybe she would actually be able to help defeat Gelata. 

She finally took a sip of her coffee and spluttered. It was scalding, and bitter to boot. 

“There you are! Finally!” 

Wynona flinched. This day just kept getting better and better. She bunched her free hand into a fist at her side. “Oh… hey there, Claude.” 

“That’s bossman to you. You’re late.” 

“You just walked past Trent. Why am I the one getting yelled at?”

Claude was already shoving something firm and heavy into her arms. “Ugh—” 

“You’re late,” he repeated. His voice was already on Wynona’s list of Worst Possible Sounds, which also included Loch’s sighs and reef-induced shipwrecks, but at this given moment it was particularly grating. “Just take the damn Gauntlet and get in there.” 

Wynona held the Gauntlet a few inches away from her, holding one of its fingers gingerly between her own, and wrinkled her nose. Gauntlets were a gimmick for regular, magicless people. The Slayers were obsessed with them, but Wynona had never seen the point. “How many times do I gotta tell you I don’t need one of these?” Besides, the standard Gauntlets were bulky and uncomfortable. And ugly. 

Claude scoffed. “I don’t care how glowy you can make your hands without one, it’s a requirement, so I expect to see it on you at all times. Do you understand?” 

Wynona didn’t respond, but she motioned her head in a way that could have been a nod, if that was what you really wanted to see. 

“Great,” said Claude. “Now get inside and do your job.” 

Wynona tucked the hideous glove into her back pocket and marched inside. 

Their makeshift outpost had seemed impressive on the first day, but now it had been standing for much longer than any “makeshift” place had a right to. To Wynona, it was looking shabbier by the second. The floor was littered with crates, debris, loose coffee cups, and wires that did not look like they would ever be untangled. All the mechs that had stood tall when they first arrived were now battered and bruised; almost half were in repair, the other half in need of repair, and what little remained was probably taking a beating right now. 

“Wynona!” 

Rayani, who was busy with one of these repairs, waved to her cheerfully. Wynona smiled for the first time that day. She took a step toward her—

“Look out!” 

—and nearly tripped over one of the thickest cables that ran across the floor. Of course, given the trajectory of this day. “Oh, sh—”

But even before she could realize what was happening, the cable had risen over Wynona’s head. She stared at it for a second, unable to do anything else: It glowed brightly in the dimness of the cave, a telltale sign of magic. Wynona could not tear her eyes away from it. Her whole body seemed to still.

The cable dropped with a thud to the ground behind her and the spell was broken. She blinked. “Sorry, Rayani.” 

“It’s all good, Wyn, but be careful.” Rayani flexed her hand within its Gauntlet. “We’re going through supplies like crazy. Can’t afford to damage what Gelata hasn’t already torn through.” 

Wynona leaned against one of the less damaged spots of the mech that Rayani was fixing up and looked around. “So… I take it nothing changed while I was out.” 

Rayani’s smile dropped away. She paused with the teeth of her wrench still wrapped around a bolt and leaned in to murmur, “If anything, it’s gotten worse. No one’s told us anything, but mechs have been in and out of the shop all day—it’s overwhelming. And, you know, it’s weird. We’ve never had trouble with monsters of this class in the past, and now suddenly—I don’t know. It can’t be like anything we’ve seen before.” 

Wynona’s brow furrowed. “Huh.” Loch had been dismissing her questions, telling her everything was fine, like this was how things were always done around here. But as she’d suspected, that wasn’t the case…

What’s taking them so long? I thought killing monsters was their whole thing.

Wynona’s skin itched. Maybe she could understand some of the Tephrans’ irritation after all. If strangers were stumbling blindly around Claybay trying to destroy something that hadn’t bothered them in living memory, she’d be upset too.

In the wake of Wynona’s silence, Rayani seemed to have gathered the courage to say something else. She balanced her wrench on the end of a wing and joined Wynona in resting against the metal. “You know, I’m not sure… if Gwen can win.” 

Wynona immediately stood up straight, making Rayani jump. “Even Gwen’s having trouble?”

“Shh!” Rayani hissed, but Wynona ignored her, standing straight up. Her mind was already racing.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Wynona saw a door swinging open: A silver door just big enough for her to slip through. If Gwen was losing their battles, that meant the Slayers would be desperate. 

Desperation meant they’d be willing to try new ideas, even crazy ones—like letting the newest recruit take over a primary mech. Maybe she wouldn’t have to play back-up for much longer.

A new voice perked up from the nearby hammock. “Yeah, it’s unnatural! The thing is basically a zombie. How the hell do you kill something that’s already dead?”

Wynona hadn’t talked to Nicolas much before, but she’d heard snippets of his rambles at lunch. Currently, his blue hair matched his bruises: Like the mechs, every Slayer had begun sustaining damages. 

“You find its heart,” said Rayani, “And you kill that.” But she sounded unsure.

“Sure, mhm, that’s the plan. And where’s that gotten us so far? That thing just keeps absorbing the surrounding fauna and coming back for more.”

The hammock swung as Nicolas tried to lean over the side. He fell backward into it with an oof. “We’re screwed, you know,” he said, muffled. “Gelata’s not even our only problem.” 

“It’s definitely our biggest,” muttered Rayani. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sure, you cut one part off of that thing…” One arm poked its way out of the hammock. “…and another part just springs up somewhere…” He sat back up, hair somehow even more tousled. “It’s messed up. Like I said, we’re screwed. But that’s not all. I’ve heard some rumors from the outposts… apparently that person has been spotted nearby.” 

Nicolas pointed straight across from him, at one of the posts that held up their makeshift tent.

There it was, having been there so long it was water-damaged and peeling: The wanted poster for the Slayer Killer. 

What a stupid name, thought Wynona. 

“If they learn about us being here…” Nicolas continued, “Well, at that point… I don’t really like our chances.” 

Rayani snorted. “That’s my cue.” She picked up her wrench and got back to work on the other side of the mech.

Wynona, meanwhile, rolled her eyes. “Come on. The Slayer Killer? Seriously? Just look at them.” 

They both looked. The Slayer Killer wore a horned mask, monster-like, with a strange and intricate face. It was not a human mask but it had the trappings of one, in places… If you just walked by the poster and happened to glance at it, you could swear the narrowed eyes were staring at you. There was a sickle strapped to their back that looked almost too heavy to be holding. Staring at the poster, Wynona had to admit to herself that the Killer looked a little unnerving. 

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that there was no way one person was going out there killing off dozens of Slayers, or whatever the rumor was. It was impossible. 

“Make fun of me all you want,” her teammate declared. “They’re spooky. I have a friend on another island who was followed by a strange shadow back to their base. They only escaped because they dove into the trees last-minute.” 

Wynona peered closer at the poster. On second glance, the Killer looked silly, almost cartoonish. What kind of a disguise was that, anyway? “It sounds to me like your friend was frightened by a small animal and didn’t want to admit it,” she said, straightening. “They don’t stand a chance against one of us, let alone a whole team. I’m more worried about Gwen.”

Maybe worried wasn’t the right word. Wynona didn’t wish anything too bad on her. Just like, a sprain, and maybe a mild head injury. 

Her teammate yawned. “Why don’t you worry about yourself, rookie? Gwen can’t protect you.” The hammock swung back and forth as he collapsed back into it. “And at this rate,” he said, quieter now, “The Killer’s gonna pick us all off before Gelata has a chance.” 

If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll just pick you—is what she would have said if Loch hadn’t just berated her over the incident at the café. “I don’t think so,” she said instead, sulking back.

She waited to see if her fellow Slayer would retort and realized after a moment that he was snoring. Well, that was one way to avoid conflict. 

To combat the annoyance prickling at her skin, Wynona briefly imagined swinging the hammock hard enough that it spun all the way around and tipped her fellow Slayer out onto the floor. Then she made an executive decision and peeled the poster away from the beam it was nailed to. 

Wynona crumpled the damp paper into a ball and tossed it toward Rayani, who let it drop to the floor. She was immersed in welding something now—a shoulder, a fin, Wynona couldn’t tell with how much this particular mech had been mangled. 

“I gotta do some actual work,” Wynona shouted over the sound of the torch. “I’ll see you later.” 

Rayani removed her thumb from the torch and lifted her visor. “Good luck out there, Wyn.” 

The hammock guy called after her in a sleepy, sing-song voice: “Yeah, good luck!” 

Wasn’t he just sleeping? What a weirdo. Wynona approached her small mech with a sigh.

There’s no way we’re gonna be stuck here for much longer…

At least, not if she had anything to say about it. Wynona clambered onto the vertical lift and pressed a few buttons. The lift rose, bringing her to the entrance of the mech’s hull. Gwen’s, like, the best slayer ever. Realistically, she’ll figure something out. Unrealistically… 

It was unrealistic, but still possible: Wynona would get to pilot her own mech. Not this dinky support mech, a real mech, with real strength and real weapons. Sure, Gwen was having a hard time, and Gwen was like, the best, but Gwen didn’t have magic of her own. And Gwen had been with the Slayers a long time. She was probably missing something that Wynona, with fresh eyes, would be able to see. 

If they just gave her one chance, she’d be able to prove herself…

There were metal rungs attached to the inside of the hull for her to climb down, but Wynona had piloted this mech enough that she could leap right into the seat. Like most of her Slaying experience, it had been cool the first time she’d done it. Like most of her Slaying experience, it was now so damn boring. 

Don’t get impatient, Wynona tried to remind herself. You’ll have your chance. For now, just sit tight and do your job.

The thought depressed her. She wanted to be a part of the action now. Well, who knew. Maybe today would be the day Gwen’s mech was knocked onto its haunches.

“Wynona! Still dawdling?!”

“Augh!” Wynona rushed to close Claude’s intercom. “Give me a break…” 

But there would be no breaks. As soon as Claude’s screen was closed, Loch’s face appeared to her right. “Nice of you to finally show up, Wyn.” 

“I didn’t think you’d miss me,” she said, and though her tone was draped in sarcasm, Wynona meant it. Her role in support was not exactly making an impact. 

Wynona guided her mech deeper into the volcano, through a narrow tunnel that opened onto a cavernous pool of red. The lava burned so brightly that for a moment, she was nearly blinded.

When her eyes adjusted, Wynona had to take a breath. Unlike most of what she saw, every day it took her by surprise.