At five hundred marches of Delve depth, the pressure is enough to crush an unprepared human soul. With no magic to prop itself up, it colpses inward and crumbles, leaving little behind but spent flesh. It's the depth where most Mages feel short of breath— magic everywhere, thick enough to choke on.

  The Delvers' Guild calls this depth the “shallows”. We can just wade on in. I don’t even need to take rest stops on my return.

  So, I suppose the disconnect between myself and Winston is entirely unsurprising.

  It’s still irritating, at this early hour.

  “You're sure it's safe?”

  “Dear, you're being rude. Ivy does this for a living.”

  Lizzie being so trusting is... actually not at all surprising. She's my favorite cousin for a reason. And, thankfully, she’s Lizzie right now rather than the Dame Tousavon, because the pza is empty of people she’d care to impress.

  Winston, though, is a broken clock, ticking back and forth across the pza. Worries, pns, fears; if I were to take my eyes off my task, I'd see all three writ pinly across his face. "I know. I just... worry. The risks are greater than I accounted for."

  It takes me a moment to realize that the tremor in my chest is a growl. Greater than he accounted for? I know damned well what I'm getting into.

  "There’s risk, cousin. We’re pying with fire, we should pn on getting singed," Lizzie sighs, spinning a dagger in her hands. Her bright green dress stands starkly against the smattering of armored guards and padded leathers of Winston, but of everyone here she seems the least concerned.

  "She's not going alone, Lord Craumont," Verity adds cheerfully. Not even a hint of irritation, despite this being the second or third variation of this conversation. “There's nothing wrong with being nervous, but I assure you we're more than competent enough for this.”

  “What she said,” I grunt, pulling another portal-stitch tight. Should be sturdy enough. “Mind quieting down?”

  Must've been too quiet, because Winston sighs and starts talking again. “I don't mean to question your competence, Padin Greyfeather. Genuinely.”

  “And thank the Hero, Elluvial, and our own common sense— we cleared out anyone who'd gossip before you started fussing,” Lizzie drawls.

  "Um!” Helena interjects, somewhere far behind me. I think she's been talking with Ruby? "I think Ivy asked us to quiet down?"

  "I did," I growl, dropping my voice to a rumble. "Thank you, Helena.”

  Verity lets out an odd sigh. “Sorry, Ivy. I heard, but...” She trails off, leaving me with something resembling silence. Close enough for me.

  Winston's boots click against the cobbles, tracing his pacing as he circles the area. I thump my tail, then move on to a particurly nasty tear. It's nice that Winston is worried about me... but, it was Winston who dragged me into this. After a brief battle in my head, I put some words together and speak.

  “If it helps, Winnie,” I say finally, pausing to yank the tear shut. Curving around the top of the portal will be challenging, and with my senses shut to the Delve's vile magic, it's like sewing with leather gloves on. “I’m following the safest Delve practices I know. Five hundred march descent to collect Hearts, then use those to carve the straightest path back up. Sealing up the natural yer transitions won't be hard after that, and we can just repeat the cycle every five hundred marches.”

  A pause. The city's heart continues to beat, thrumming with distant life and cmoring carriages.

  “There's, um, a procedure for that?” Helena says finally. “I didn't know. Um, I-I knew you had a pn, but...”

  “That does help, Ivy,” Winston says as Helena trails off. His voice swings upward. “I suppose I was underestimating you again. I'm sorry.”

  “You were. Apology accepted,” I grunt. He's a worrier, can't fault it. I shouldn't have said anything— now I'm going to have to wait out a bit more conversation before I can focus again.

  Bah.

  “To think when you were little, you called her big sister, dear,” Lizzie snickers.

  “Well she's bigger now, isn’t she?” Winston mutters. I can't help but snort— it's enough that I have to rip out a few stitches and do them over.

  Verity trills again, closer this time. I curl my tail so she can step closer to me, and she does. “I'd love to hear that story, Dame Tousavon... well, over dinner. Could I ask that we return to silence for Ivy's sake, though?”

  “Thank you,” Helena says, her voice barely audible.

  Spares me the trouble, at least.

  Ruby's scritch of note-taking, the scuff of boots, the faint sound of Verity's breathing... it comes together nicely over the ever-present wash of life. I add my own sound, the rhythmic clicking of my tail, and get back to work.

  Oh, and I might be enjoying how awkward it must be for everyone else. Lizzie is probably enjoying it too, I can imagine that ssh of a smirk she wears when she thinks nobody is looking.

  Two stitches there, pull that tight, tug the seams to line this up, and oh, if this needs to st a while, I should probably reinforce everything... Hmm. This may take a bit.

  “Could I, um, come along?”

  Helena's voice nudges at my reverie, out from a blur of tugged belts, adjusted straps, and inspected dents. As much as I would've liked to jump in immediately, the echo of that rotten, sickening... something, stayed my hand. My cws, really. Caution is necessary.

  I've brought my knives this time, rare as their use is. Potions, salves… Should I have brought Wind or Fire crystals? Yes, these are the metal jars and the alchemical leather fsks, no risk of breaking, not making that mistake again.

  “Um, Ivy?”

  Helena steps into my vision, peering upward into my eyes. Hers have changed in recent weeks, brightening and shifting from sharp green to sharper turquoise. It's a good look on her.

  I blink, shaking my head, pulling my thoughts together and recalling Helena's question. Can she—

  No. Absolutely not. I'm a heartbeat from biting it out, and I look away before I do. Do I want her risking her life, risking my life, when she ignores me? Is she prepared for... whatever is wrong with this Delve?

  “No,” I hiss out, tail shing against the stone.

  Helena flinches away, taking an unsteady step back. My heart twinges.

  I take a breath. I don't know when a fire started burning inside me, but I smother it as best I can. And another breath, after that. Words start forming, I toss them out, then put together something kinder. Something more honest, and something more professional.

  “I, ah,” Helena starts, then stops, all before I can find my voice. She closes her eyes. “I understand. But I'd like to know why, specifically.”

  “You know,” I say quietly, “Shouldn’t have snapped at you. And yes, you deserve to know why.”

  “Apology, ah, accepted. It's okay to be, um, mad at me.” She offers me a firm smile, and there's the Helena that held fast against me weeks ago.

  Boots click in one ear, and I turn enough to see that it's Verity approaching us. She gives me a nod, stopping a respectful distance away.

  “Well, I was mad. Weeks ago,” I admit with a shrug. I’m thinking as I talk, putting things together into something resembling coherency. “And maybe a minute ago. It's a risky Delve, Helena. It’s obvious that I’m not the best at teaching these things, and I don’t want us ending up with a repeat of st time.”

  “Oh. I see.” And now she's frowning again, expression trapped between disappointment and what I hope is understanding. Guilt stirs irrationally in my chest, but I won’t allow myself to be maniputed again. “But you could—”

  She stops herself, defting. “...sorry. I was, um, about to try and push you on it. But if you’re willing, I-I promise I’ll do as you say and not run ahead. I’ll do better, I’m trying to.”

  I think about it a bit more. Carefully. I hold her gaze, I take the best damned measure of her soul I can from here. She’s been polite, she’s been inquisitive, she’s been as herself as ever at the Manor— save for the bad days, where she doesn’t leave her room, or comes out at lunch with teary eyes. Trust is hard to mend... but she’s felt that same sting, hasn’t she?

  “Might be a month,” I say slowly, working my jaw. My tail curls, then uncurls, brushing by Helena's foot. “But sure, I’ll ask Verity if she’ll help. That’ll make it a lot less risky. We can sort it out over dinner sometime.”

  Her eyes glow, and her cheeks redden. “Really?”

  “Really.” I reply, snorting. “You're the one who suggested it, aren't you?”

  “Well, ah, I didn't think you'd actually accept,” Helena beams at me. “But I had to try!”

  I blink. “Pardon?”

  “Still, that's fantastic! I can prep new spell structures, and test out a few theories, maybe even collect some crystals, and...”

  Helena steps forward and wraps me in a hug. It’s... nice. Warm, almost cozy. I can feel a different sort of rumble building in my chest— and when she starts trying to squeeze me, I hug her back. The move drags her into my chest with an “eep!”, and I hold her there for a moment.

  “We’ll,” I pause, thinking for a moment, “It’s worth trying again. More carefully, at least.”

  And then she squirms free of my grip, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. I can hear her heart pounding with excitement as she turns away.

  “I-I'll start preparing! I'll be much, um. Safer this time!”

  And off she goes. Well, she stumbles once and nearly trips when she tries to open her book while still running. But she does go.

  “Well, I was going to say I'm ready to go, and we could have this conversation after, but she's run off,” Verity sighs, sauntering on over. She rests a hand on her hip. “Do you think I'd get a hug too if I joined in?”

  “I was about to ask you if you’d join, actually. Do you think she heard me when I said it'd be a month?” I huff, tail shing against the street. “And she's never hugged me before, though. Can't say.”

  Hugs are nice though. I'm hardly compining.

  “Aaah... we'll just have to find out, on both accounts. I might want one too, you know,” Verity winks, then gestures back at the portal. She starts walking, and I follow. “Still, that's sweet of you. So, dashing Delver, are you ready for our grand entrance? I’m prepared, I’ve eaten, all set here.”

  I stare at her levelly, slowly raising an eyebrow. If I acknowledge every time this woman flirts, I'll never get anything done. So I shrug, turning that into a roll of my shoulders. I drop down, stretching one leg and then the other, making sure to push until I feel a hint of strain on my muscles. Best get warmed up.

  “Ready,” I say finally, “I’ve eaten, too, so no cramps. And you... passionate padin?”

  Oh, that's a reach. Bleh.

  “Points for trying, Ivy. Right then, let's go! And I'll remember to shield myself, don't worry." Verity strides forward, jogging past me and sticking a boot into the portal.

  And then she... stops. Holding it like that, with one bright yellow eye on me.

  "What?" I shrug, flicking my tail toward the portal in the same motion. "Go on."

  She tilts her head. "This is about when most Delvers demand to take the lead."

  "How old are you?" I ask, putting together my response as I go. Wait, no, that's a rude question.

  "Thirty eight."

  "Okay, and padins usually start sometime in their— wait, thirty eight? Gods, I know magic slows aging, but thirty eight?" I cough into my fist before I can say something stupid. This woman is eleven years my senior? "Point is, you know what you're doing. Just call out and we'll feel things out as we go. If we run into a rough patch, we talk."

  Verity winks. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

  My argument doesn't even fall on deaf ears— those ears are through the portal, and I move to rush in after her.

  “Ivy, dear?” That's Lizzie's voice, now— I thought she'd left to go do something? Nevermind, I suppose.

  I look back. There she is, standing primly in a pale green dress that flutters in the wind. “Yeah?”

  Her emerald eyes burn into mine, and with them comes certainty. Dread and worry follow. “Good luck.”

  I bow my head. “I think I'll need it.”

  Down, down, down into the rotting abyss. Through the lukewarm fog, through the shuddering sensation of wrongness that grasps at my soul. Still, I plunge onward, and with the Wind at my side the rot soon loses its hold.

  But it's still there, I can feel it. It scrapes against my scales, it skitters off my magic, but it does not relent. No Delve ever would, I remind myself, because Delves simply are.

  I burst from the other side with a snarl, tail pounding the ground, scales covering my arms in their entirety. My vision has already sharpened, my cws lengthened and hardened. The grasping rot remains, pushed to the fringes by Wind churning in my body.

  My well-worn Delver habits kick in, and my eyes lift to scan the horizon. Well, that's assuming there is one. First comes active threats— is anything approaching us? Movement of any kind, in any direction? Just strange bck clouds, which I'll keep an eye on. Could be monsters, could be toxic.

  Now, ndscape and hazards. A pale, wounded nd spills out before me; white pins and pteaus rent apart by wicked, jagged chasms. They carve their way to the curved horizon, one that seems to bend without being any less ft before vanishing into the pale gold sky. My eyes drift away before it can give me a headache.

  Bck clouds billow up from the deepest wounds, plumes of smoke that bleeds across that pale gold like ink in water.

  Bone-white grass clings to everything, brittle and crackling underfoot but still springing up the moment I step away.

  And now my attention drifts back to Verity, who's bent over and looking away. Short bck talons curve gently from her fingertips, with one hand pressed to her stomach and the other wrapped around her mace.

  “Blech. Blech, blech, blech, Ivy, that's atrocious,” Verity says, groaning in two octaves at once. Her whole voice has taken on a subtly musical quality, really.

  “Everything alright?” I ask, walking over. What should I do here? And, when the knot of worry in my gut makes itself known, “If you're not—”

  A taloned hand shoots up to stop me, and Verity rises to her full height not long after.

  Goddess, her eyes. Burning yellow-gold irises suspended in deep, dark blue sclera. A peppery coat of swept-back feathers frames her face before swooping out to delicately circle her eyes. And under it all, her too-much smile remains unchanged. Bubbly as ever, I’m sure.

  My instincts tingle whenever my eyes lock with hers; a whispered desire to growl and prove my strength. From her posture, it seems she’s feeling the same way... and it’s a feeling I suspect we’re both familiar with.

  “Nice eyes,” Verity nods my way, running a hand through her hair. As I approach, I catch a faint whiff of smoke. “I’d cause a scare to a few people, looking like this, but I figured you wouldn't care. I'm fine, otherwise! And how are you? Don't just say scaley, I already know that.”

  Still, I roll my eyes. Verity smirks back.

  “Fine, now that I’ve pushed out the sensations from the Delve,” I say, tugging on my magic so I can examine it properly. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, circuting Wind is costing me a trickle of energy. “Means we’re not getting anything from the Delve itself, though, so we’re limited to the magic we’ve got already.”

  Verity’s smirk tightens, and the scent of smoke intensifies. “And that means shorter expeditions and a longer overall timeline, right? I’ll see if I can petition for some blessings, but for now...”

  “More or less. We’ll have to manage,” I nod along, scraping my tail through the brittle grasses. “Cost of pushing back is negligible, but keep an eye out in case it starts getting expensive. Let me find our heading, then we’ll get to monster bashing.”

  And then, an awkward shuffle as I pull out my Delve depth meter, orient myself, and wander around to ensure “Delve down” is where the meter says. Verity whistles out a surprisingly harmonious string of notes, accompanied by enough fidgeting to make Helena look like a statue.

  “Okay, now we can go find bashes. Er, bashables,” I say finally, pointing off toward a particurly smoky section of horizon.

  A smoky section that’s stirring and moving oddly, now that I look at it.

  Hm.

  “Oh, that’s getting bigger now, isn’t it,” Verity says, as if she were commenting on an interesting bug. “Approaching. Was it waiting, or does it not like being looked at?”

  “No idea,” I roll my neck, pushing Wind into my arms and legs. If it’s gaseous, I’ll need a lot of Wind, and... right. Time to dig up some tricks. “I appreciate the waiting, though.”

  “I suppose,” Verity hums two notes at once, hefting her mace for a moment. She hops forward, pivoting on an armored foot to keep facing me. “So, shall we? I believe we’ve got a fight on our hands.”

  Now that’s something I can get behind. I give her a broad, toothy smile, and she returns it with a hawkish grin. “Let’s see how well we work in a fight.”

  Origami_Narwhal