“Hey. You okay?”

Tristan blinked. His vision was cloudy, and the words sounded like they were spoken through a glass window. Muddled, drowned out. There was a silhouette of a figure above him, holding out a hand.

“You look like you’re in bad shape.”

He felt like he was in bad shape. His energy was sapped as if he’d just run a marathon without water. A dozen questions prodded his hazy thoughts. 

Short hair bobbed around the stranger’s chin. Hadn’t someone tried to help him like this so long ago? When he was living on the streets? But, then, if he were on the streets, that would mean…

“Tristan! Can you stand?”

The distant memory faded, and the fog vanished, leaving behind a blanched Destiny standing over him, a bottle in one hand, the other reaching for him. Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down her face. The dust from the collapsing walls settled on her cheeks and arms.

“I… I’m fine.” Tristan took her hand and accepted her help, gingerly righting himself to standing. What happened?

“Drink this. Now.” Destiny clapped the bottle into his hand, then rushed back to the ailing Lara.

Cailu knelt at the group’s center, holding his shield perpendicular to the ground. A beam of blinding light umbrellaed into a shimmering, translucent white dome encapsulating them inside. Beyond his protection were hunks of bricks and mortar, wrenched and broken from the tunnel’s collapse.

Zahra moved to Tristan’s side. “You were out for a few minutes. A brick made its way through before he cast that Spell.”

“And found my head, I see.” Tristan rubbed the pulsing bump on the back of his head. “How’s Lara?”

“Lara’s stabilizing. Ceres, however—” Zahra’s gaze drifted to Matt. She shook her head. “Her condition worsens by the minute.”

“Understood.” He uncorked the potion Destiny had given him and drained the bottle as he closed the few steps it took to get to Matt. 

Zahra moved to stand beside Naeemah, both silently inspecting the outer edge of the dome. Ravyn and Keke stood on the opposite end, similarly murmuring quiet observations to one another.

Tristan’s headache eased with the tincture, giving way to the panic rising in his chest. How did this go so wrong?

Ceres lay on the ground, her head in Cannoli’s lap. Cannoli stroked Ceres’ golden hair, murmuring gentle encouragements. Her skin had turned an ashen grey and glistened with a cold sweat. The wound in her stomach was bad. Worse than bad. 

“Has anyone healed her?” Tristan asked. “Potions, Spells, or otherwise?”

Matt nodded. “Potions won’t—” he swallowed, then tried again, “—they won’t stay in her stomach. Cannoli stopped the bleeding, but, well…” His words trailed, and he motioned to Ceres’ wound.

“Even if we had the supplies, trying to stitch her closed would welcome infection in an environment like this,” Tristan murmured.

Ceres coughed, and a trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth. “M… Matt. Do not w-worry about me. Escape.”

“I would advise listening to her. Our time is finite,” Cailu said. “If we do not find our way out of this ensnarement, we will all perish.”

“How long do we have?” Tristan asked.

“Less than an hour. Should my Myana deplete entirely, we will be crushed beneath the rubble.” Cailu frowned, his eyes hard. “I cannot assist in physical tasks or Skills. Any action I take will negate the effects of my Spell.”

“Couldn’t we just feed you Myana Potions?” Ravyn asked over her shoulder.

“The air in here won’t last,” Tristan announced. 

“Let me help your darling kitten.” Kirti sauntered to Cannoli’s side, then dropped to one knee. She unfurled her long fingers to reveal three glowing stones. “I’ve fresh sources to utilize.”

Cannoli’s chin whipped to face Kirti and, to Tristan’s surprise, Cannoli hissed. Her usually warm, ruby eyes shimmered with loathing. “Those don’t belong to you, witch. Grant Saoirse what is rightfully hers.”

Kirti smiled, accepting Cannoli’s reaction without so much as flinching. “You would let your companion die instead of accepting my aid?”

“We are not in a position to judge who lives and who dies,” Cannoli snarled.

“You say this while intending on training as a [Bishop]?” Kirti laughed. “Do you think your mother lived by such a credo?”

Cannoli shrieked and drew her arm back, away from Ceres’ head. 

No! We can’t be fighting right now—

Matt snatched her wrist and looked at Kirti. “Heal Ceres, Kirti.”

Cannoli gasped, head twisting to award Matt with an incredulous stare. “Matt!”

Matt continued, leveling Kirti’s gaze. “After you’re done, stop aggravating my girls.”

“Which piece of finite time until death did not resonate with you, Kirti?” Cailu barked. 

“You men are so very interesting.” Kirti snickered, then chose one of the smooth stones from her palm. “[Devour Essence].”

The rock shattered, freeing the light within. It hovered above her hand for only a moment before swirling to Ceres’ chest and disappearing into her. The [Magic Knight]’s breathing caught in her throat, and her shoulders trembled. The wound in her center pulsed with faint light, and tendrils of sinew and muscle mended over one another in quick succession. It was simultaneously the most difficult and fascinating progression that Tristan had ever witnessed.

“I… I feel restored,” Ceres whispered as more sweat beaded on her brow. “T-thank you, Miss.”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Cannoli growled at Matt. 

“Cannoli… I am sorry to have caused you such pain—” Ceres stammered.

Cannoli continued as if Ceres had said nothing. “That soul will never find peace.”

“According to your beliefs, yes,” Kirti countered. “And now, instead, your companion will live. Judgment has been cast and exercised.”

Matt shot Kirti a dark look.

“Mm. Right. Master’s orders.” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue as she pocketed her remaining stones. “The chance of infection is still high. She will need further attention, or her injuries will fester and kill her.”

“Thanks, Kirti,” Matt murmured, turning his attention back to Ceres. “Now we just need to get the hell out of here.”

“Any ideas?” Tristan asked, hoping to change the subject. The tension in Cannoli’s face and shoulders put him on edge. She clenched and unclenched one free hand, and her tail flickered behind her in agitation. Had he ever seen her this mad? Had Matt?

“Can we cast Magic through the barrier?” Ravyn asked.

“No,” Naeemah replied. “Nor Skills or normal attacks.” She unsheathed one dagger from her side and slammed the edge against the barrier. The bubble reverberated with her attack, but the rocky barrier didn’t sustain a scratch.

“Would you kindly not make my job harder?” Cailu snapped.

Naeemah’s eyes narrowed. “[Sacred Ground]’s barrier does not take damage.”

“No, but I can feel the pressure of your attack, as well as the pressure of every rock and brick stacked upon us now,” Cailu grunted.

“Could I throw bottle grenades through it?” Destiny asked, pulling a bottle free from her [Cat Pack]. “We aren’t that far from the entrance, right? We just need to get rid of a little bit?”

“That’s a good idea, actually,” Tristan noted.

“You will kill us all,” Cailu warned. “Items cannot leave or enter this Spell, either.”

“That means arrows aren’t an option, either,” Keke grumbled.

“E… Earth says that I’ve asked him for help too many times lately.” Lara brushed her hand through her hair, then dabbed the sweat from her forehead on one sleeve. “He thinks this would be a deserved death.”

That’s comforting. “Then we’ll keep thinking,” Tristan said. He was desperate to keep high spirits. The alternative twisted knots into his stomach. “There has to be a way.”

Zahra paced from one side of the dome to the other. “My mother told me a story once, about a kitten trapped in a cave. She finds a sack of enchanted Bells, each of which grants her a wish. But every time she wishes for freedom, the Bell whisks her to another trapped cave.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Wit and logic save her in the end, but I find myself running dry of both.”

“There’s a similar story where I grew up. Just with a magic lamp instead of Bells.” Tristan dropped to the ground and drew the dome and wall in the sand.

“Didn’t pack a genie in your [Cat Pack]?” Matt asked.

Tristan chuckled. “Not this time.”

“Your idle banter does little to remove us from our current situation,” Cailu said. “More ideas, if you would.”

“Baka. You hold up a shield, and it releases you from helping us?” Ravyn snapped. “What are your ideas, Cailu?”

Cailu set his jaw, then glanced at Naeemah. “Seeing as I can do little to help and less to observe, I am at a loss.”

As Tristan stared at the sketched diagram on the ground, he felt the same weight of hopelessness pressing against his chest. “[Sacred Ground] sounds like it doesn’t allow anything or anyone inside or out of it while the Spell is active, right?”

“Correct,” Cailu replied.

“So, even if I were to summon my familiar, she couldn’t slip through the dome.” Tristan sketched Desiree’s feline face outside of the dome.

“Bally’s tried to leave twice already,” Ravyn grumbled. The blue parrot sat uncharacteristically silent on her shoulder. 

“Besides, it’s not like you’d get far. The rocks are right up against the barrier,” Keke added.

“Then the only option would be to pile on Skills and Spells when [Sacred Ground] is dropped.” Tristan drew the wall up and around the dome. “But, the wall goes too high for even a combined effort to take out in one blast.”

“And I believe I’m the only one who would be able to outpace its falling should we open a path forward,” Naeemah said.

The group fell silent as the truth settled. There was no escaping this collapse. The Ejderha had played them right into their trap. Three of the world’s men and arguably its strongest catgirls would die with it.

Matt raised his chin, and they locked eyes. Tristan found his emotions echoed in that stare—desperate, frustrated, powerless. They’d both wanted to help the ones closest to them live in a better, safer world. Never this.

“Tristan, sorry for dragging you here, man,” Matt said. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked back down at Ceres.

“I’d rather die trying than die ignorant,” Tristan replied honestly. “I don’t regret it.”

“So that’s it, then? We’re giving up?” Ravyn snapped. “Roachshit. We still have time. Put your damn brains together and think.”

Keke touched Ravyn’s shoulder. “Ravyn—”

“Death is a natural part of our cycle, girl. No need to fear it,” Kirti advised.

“No. I’m not rolling over and dying in this pit. Mattaku. We’re better than this. Even the cunt.”

Zahra nodded. “I must agree. There has to be something we’re missing.”

Tristan tapped his drawing. “I don’t think—” He stopped. A soft scraping sound behind him caught his ear. A distant scratching seemed to echo from the outside of the brick enclosure. It can’t be.

“What’s wrong, Tristan?” Destiny asked.

Tristan leaped to his feet and marched toward the sound. Another scrape, this time followed by a thunk. 

“I hear it!” Keke shouted, rushing to his side.

Another scratch. Then another thunk. 

Everyone but Cannoli, Ceres, and Cailu joined him at the edge of the dome. A thin stream of sunlight broke free just above Tristan’s head. Hope filled his chest, and tears threatened his eyes.

“Hang in there, boys and girls! We’ve got you!” a familiar voice called.

Jaya!

“I told you Glitter saw them go this way! He’s the bestest!” a kitten’s voice announced. “Let’s save them like they saved Glitter!”

“Meera! Be careful up there!”

“I’m fine, Mama!”

The tears flowed free. Matt wrapped his arms around Keke’s shoulders and kissed her on the top of her head. Sunlight flowed into the dome as bricks and boulders were thrown to the side.

They were saved.