The st Heart proves me right, and I loathe it for that.

  It sits smugly in the riverbed, buried beneath a march of cy; the ripples left by its presence p against an unfortunately shaped curve of the Delve and are devoured by it. That shape is an academic curiosity, of course, discussed in dry words by even drier schors. My Depth meter would have no hope of detecting the damned thing, so exposure— this feeling of fingers in my throat, scrabbling on my scales, choking and prying and hurting— was necessary. Is necessary.

  Never mind that Hearts aren’t supposed to be buried. I’ve read the papers, seen the statistics and theories that back them all— Hearts form exposed to the main space of the Delve, without exception. Bottoms of rivers count, fissures count, and… Bah. This Delve is rotted and wrong in countless ways.

  The shape I've taken is quite terrible at digging, too. I am meant for shredding flesh and rending monsters, not scooping up cy; fortunately, Verity can turn her Sun shield into a shovel. Not a damned clue why, and when Lena asked, Verity ughed and started digging. Small comedies in the rge miseries, and all that.

  At least we can work together on it. Lena proves an attentive listener, too.

  “Someone at the Guild,” I groan, handing the Sun-shovel back to Verity, “is going to hate me for not taking notes.”

  Verity fshes a soft smile, twirling the shovel in her hands before holding it back out for me. “Oh, come on, the Delver’s Guild isn’t that petty. They’re just grumpy, like you.”

  “If the guildmaster and the Delvers are grumpy, then you’ll hate the schors,” I snort, taking that jab on the chin. Plucking the shovel from Verity’s hands, I drive it back into the cy and bury it further with a pnted foot. The lengthened tail adds a good amount of mass, so I have to be even more careful than before. “I can think of a few. Name them, no, but they're there.”

  “The guildmaster... Sanas ard Torin?” Lena queries, and I spare a gnce just long enough to see that she's fiddling with a strange-looking spell structure. Her brow starts to furrow, and the structure vanishes. “Um. No, that’s not the right name...”

  “Close, but—” Verity grunts, heaving a massive chunk of cy out of the hole. She purses her lips, then enunciates quite clearly, “—Saras ars Torin, not Sanas ard. Ard is for the Lord of Torin, ars is for the rest of that awful family.”

  “Oh! I see. They’re, um... siblings, right? A-all I hear about Judician politics comes from the newspaper, and we don’t get that very often.”

  The chatter helps. It is the flowers painted onto stone walls, the quaint parks I can’t help but stop to admire; it allows my thoughts to drift to Craumont, in all its faded Imperial glory. They had a certain charm and ease of movement that newer cities have never quite matched, too many roads for carriages and not enough paths for walkers. Dig, heave, grit teeth against aching muscles. Dig, heave, brace against the rot, spit out the bile. Dig, heave...

  When this is over, I’m going to go to that damned bakery and order something ridiculous. Something too fvorful, too much for my sharpened senses. The shovel flickers, I hand it over, Verity refreshes its strength. This all feels absurd, honestly, but the Heart isn’t far now. Maybe another few hundredths of a march.

  “Ivy?”

  Lena’s voice draws me back in, as it often does. Mm, the Heart is close though, so I also wave for Verity to stop.

  I turn my head just enough to see her with one eye, to take in the litany of sptters and scratches that mark her. The shadows under her eyes make my heart ache. “Go on.”

  “Earlier, Verity told me that the abstract, um, is essentially raw magic. Do you,” Lena pauses, gently lowering herself onto the gravel bank of the river. She sighs, shaking her head. “No, no. Ivy, if it was enough magic to change you, it’s more than enough for it to hurt you. You told me as much, so... you don’t need to hide that it damaged your soul.”

  She speaks without wavering, without even a hint of the hesitation that so often marks her voice. There is heat to it, a roughness of accusation and reassurance that refuses to settle in my mind. Verity is watching, I know, but she’s staying quiet.

  My lips twitch. Amusement bubbles through the murk, fizzing out through a wriggling of my tail. “And here I thought you’d ask me more about the abstract.”

  Lena blinks. Once, twice. “Oh. Well, I do want to ask, but I want to make sure you’re, um, okay first?”

  The buzz of humor erupts into a ugh, a guttural and growling thing that tears through my chest and pours from my lips. Lena’s face turns several interesting shades of red before I can quiet down, and Verity’s giggle, while stifled, is pinly audible to me.

  “I’m fine, Lena,” I breathe out, turning to face her properly. “But my soul is cracked. Doesn’t bother me now, but it does mean I’m not going deeper than we absolutely have to.”

  “What’s so funny about—” Lena purses her lips, and a hand shoots into her hair. “Right. But how can you be fine if your soul is cracked? And, ah, why did you hide it?”

  “I’ll go for the Heart while you talk, mhm? I think I can feel it, at this range,” Verity whispers, and I feel her hand brush my shoulder. “Could you curl your tail?”

  “Why did I hide it?” I repeat with a frown, curling my tail around my boots. The words turn over in my head, seeking connections and finding none. Gods, I don’t recall even thinking about saying it aloud. “Hah. Not a damn clue, and all the damage really means is I’ll need to stop Delving for a week or two.”

  I grimace, running a trickle magic over my soul, that core of something that churned the currents of my being. It gathers in the crack, pooling like water. Too much strain and the crack would widen, and then it’d be more than just a dull ache at the back of my mind. Gods, I can even feel the divots where the abstract tore chunks of me away.

  Am I fine? No. Not even close to fine. If I pushed myself to my absolute limit magically, I’d shear my soul in half within seconds. Too much depth would be much the same, but with a little more warning.

  But I don’t say that. I stick to my lie, drinking it down like poisoned wine. Telling them that my soul is broken would only make things worse for no benefit.

  Lena smiles. “Well—”

  “There!” From behind me, a muffled thump, several grunts, and a wet sound I don’t care to describe. Verity trills, and I can somehow hear the smile on her face. “Blegh, though. Covered in cy, but I would say a Heart is worth a little dirty work!”

  “Obviously,” I snort, turning around—

  Verity’s silver armor, caked in reddish cy from hip to chest, coating her arm and sloughing off a sickly yellow Heart thrice the size of my fist. Bits of cy fke off her as I watch, glowing and smouldering at the fringes. Gods, there’s even some in loose curls of hair around her face.

  I blink. “More than a little dirty work.”

  Lena steps up next to me, shoulder nearly brushing my arm before she sidles away. “Oh, Restoration, that’ll get everywhere, won’t it? I, um, have a cleaning spell for your hair, if you’d like it. You might have your own, though.”

  “Bit tricky to get cy out of my hair without setting it on fire, so yes please, Lena! And thank you.” Verity’s toothy smile fshes, baring fangs she certainly cked moments ago. The feathers on her face spread, blending further with her hair. “Goddess, though, Hearts feel awful. Mind taking this one off my hands, Ivy?”

  She’s already tossing it at me when she finishes her sentence, and I snatch it from the air. The tar of Delve magic is barely a tickle compared to the rancid sensations scraping at me; both pale in comparison to the excitement glimmering in my mind.

  “A big one, too.” I peel my lips back into a smirk, turning the Heart over in my cws. Delve Heart strength is an abstract measure at best— hah, abstract— and anyone trying to put numbers to them is wasting valuable years they could spend doing anything else. “We’ll need... hm.”

  There is, however, a gut sense for them, and I know enough about this Delve to do some guesswork. If we’re unlucky, we’ll need a retively standard-sized Heart. If we’re lucky? A small one. Putting that together? Something like a fractional number of standard-ish Hearts needed.

  “Um?” Lena says, and my attention snaps back to unreality. Verity’s bent down to allow Lena access to her hair, and Lena’s eyes barely flick up for a second before she returns to coaxing cy free of Verity’s hair. “What will we need?”

  “We need, at most, one Heart. Numbers aren't great at quantifying them, so I had to guess.”

  I stop, nod, and begin to pn. It's a plunge from warm air to frigid waters, one that has my tail tracing the stones behind me.

  “Fascinating!” Lena bobs her head. “But numbers work so well for structures, so why not Hearts? And... Verity, could you tilt your head? Other way. Perfect!”

  “Oh, Goddess. Yes please, and thank you, Lena.” Verity says, her voice warm and fraying at the edges. That alone has me on edge, but Gods I have too much to worry about already. “If you don't mind waiting just a moment for Lena here to get the cy out?”

  “Let's get going after that, then,” I finish, waving off Lena and Verity's smiles. Dread is starting to stir in spite of everything, picking at every wound, but I won't give it voice.

  I reach out with magic— hands wrapped around my arms, my throat, my head, fingers down my throat, rot and bile and blood— swallow my rising urge to vomit, and confirm my findings.

  “There's no more Hearts on this yer, though.” Once the words leave my mouth, I pause, waiting for that dread to settle. “We’ll have to go deeper.”

  Our path to the fourth yer is a winding, weaving thing, tread with caution but wavering with uncertainty. We loop our way around the wounds of bck smoke, keeping our distance and watching them closely. Monsters rise from the cy and press themselves free of the gravelly ground, and are returned to both in short order. It’s a little harder for me without any magic, but with my reserves fgging, there’s no real choice in the matter.

  Gods, I wish I’d spent more time with Earth magic. Or Land, if you go by the word of the stuffiest schors. With so much of the damn stuff littered about in crystal form, the inefficiencies of casting directly from crystal wouldn’t even matter. Thinking about it is a nice distraction, one that shoves my worries to the side without interfering with Delving.

  Or with the fighting of monsters, what few we run into. I have a wonderfully altered tail to adjust to on top of the nonsense, a heavier and stronger thing that’ll serve as an even better weapon in time. For now, though, having an extra one third march of tail slows me down a hair. Bah.

  Time bleeds away. I wait for that next knife, but we find the portal first. I’m more than a little surprised to see it as I get down on one knee, cws reaching out to inspect the portal’s fringes.

  “Huh,” I say aloud, then wince at the growl in my voice. Hard to suppress when I’m changed like this. “Didn’t expect it to survive.”

  “And I expected more, hm.” Verity pauses. “I’m doing a little wave thing with my hands, but neither of you are looking. I expected more ominous bck smoke when we looked through the frame, honestly? Terrible rifts into the abstract? Maybe some horrifying fungal mass?”

  Chuckling, I wiggle my tail toward her, but keep my focus on the portal edge. Let’s see, that part doesn’t look right, did I really think this was acceptable work? No, that bit’s not good either... Oh, there’s a fw in the threading structure there, one I’ve probably made a hundred times without noticing before. Hm! Useful knowledge.

  Lena giggles. “Um, why? To both of you, I suppose.”

  “I was in a—”

  “With how things—”

  Verity’s words overp with mine, and we both cut ourselves off. I snort, she trills. Something cold prods my tail, but given the location of Verity’s heartbeat, I can tell it’s just her. But why?

  “You start, Ivy. Unless you need all your focus for the portal?” Verity says quietly. Oh, that’s what she meant.

  Lena makes an odd noise, something a little more shrill and guttural than a sigh. “Oh, right! Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t be distracting you, should I.”

  “I’m fine. Just admiring my own barely acceptable handiwork. Cwwork?” I muse, waving my tail in concert. “Expected it to be closed entirely because it was a rush job, not to mention possible abstract corrosion.”

  “Now I have more questions,” Lena mumbles. She raises her voice and continues, “So, um, Verity, you said you expected more bck smoke and mushrooms? But you made the abstract out to be separate from the smoke. The first part makes sense, but...”

  “It does and it doesn’t, so let’s start with the first bit,” Verity says, then slips into a hum. Gravel crunches behind me, and Verity appears in the corner of my eye. “There wasn’t any smoke down there when we visited. I have a little theory that the smoke is worsening because the Delve is sealed, and Ivy isn’t stopping me so it’s probably a decent one. I expected the mushrooms because... hmm, yer three already looks degraded, shouldn’t the deeper yers be worse off?”

  She pauses.

  “And the abstract, of course. I make it out to be different from smoke because it is, somehow. Otherwise, we would’ve stopped at every smoky rift we saw, right? Ivy would have sensed the waves.”

  “That’s a lot to answer to, Verity,” I say drily, catching the end of her thought with a thump of my tail, nodding. Unsurprisingly, the Padin of Adamantine is more than a pretty face and martial skill. “You expected an expansion on the fungal theme, and that’s not a bad theory about the smoke. As for the abstract rift...”

  I shrug, as much as it pains me. “It’s reted to the smoke, I’ll guess. Enough that I trust neither. I’ll have to do some research when we get out of here.”

  Never mind that the only research on sealed Delves I know of is written by Mother. Guess I’m unsealing the remaining rooms in the Manor when I return.

  “Fascinating.” Lena says, for what may well be the hundredth time today. Does she know how deeply engraved that word has become for her? Nearly the same inflection every time, with that same heat and excitement despite everything. “I knew you’d expin the, um, smoke and abstract thing eventually, so thank you.”

  Bleh. Focus on the portal, Ivy. Make the unconscious into the conscious, pick at the seams and put in better ones. “This’ll need stabilizing before we can go through. Can’t afford to open a portal again and risk losing a Heart.”

  “And what about the, ah, abstract corrosion? Is—” Lena stops suddenly. “Oh, that should wait, shouldn’t it? Sorry.”

  I smirk, cast out a few pns, and curl my tail around my body. “Yes, and thank you. Verity, Lena, stick close and watch my back.”

  My cws hook into the worn, fraying threads. Delve magic oozes into the crack in my soul, burning and biting and so, so cold—

  But the abstract was far worse, and pain is something I can manage. I draw the thread without issue, and plunge a needle of will through the fringes. Something shifts, a tiny ripple, a raindrop in a still ke. Another shift, again and again until the curve of the Delve is muddied. Continuing is a calcuted risk, but it’s not just me on the line here, is it? Not that I pn on dying.

  I stop. The needle of will breaks, the thread crumbles, but I remain kneeling. The ripples continue.

  “Verity. You did something with Sun magic when you pulled me out of the abstract,” I call out, preparing my needle and thread once more. “If you had more warning, could you stop me from falling in?”

  “R-Restoration protect,” Lena’s words tumble from her mouth before Verity can speak, and her heart skips up in cadence. “Ivy, if this could open another rift... a-are you sure?”

  “Echoing Lena on that.” Verity’s voice is cooler and sharper now, and her heart betrays nothing. “I trust your judgement, Ivy, and yes, I can protect you. But why in the Goddess’ name would you risk that again?”

  My heart twinges, but it’s hardly enough to stop the thoughts slipping free of my lips. “Hah. I don’t want to be sure, but I am. Just want to be cautious— portal’s making ripples when I stitch.”

  Verity sighs. “Very well, then. I am prepared. Lena, stand back.”

  “...Be safe, Ivy,” Lena says eventually, voice wavering. “Please.”

  Well, I can’t disappoint now, can I?

  My needle passes through the fringe once more. In and out, binding shorn impossibility to the fabric of the Delve. I can’t afford to hold my breath, but the false world holds it for me. Minutes pass, some in silence, some in agonizing, terse conversation.

  What I don’t say, what I don’t think needs saying, is that we have maybe a half hour before we need to begin the ascent. A half hour to go through a yer with monsters that pushed me when I had far more magic at my command. Barely enough to find one heart.

  And, thank the Gods, thank Adamantine, nothing happens. Nothing truly terrifying, no gaping maws seeking to strip flesh and soul alike. Just a tiny puff of smoke that makes my heart seize in the time it takes for Verity to burn it up with a white-yellow fsh of Sun.

  I dust myself off, take a moment to drink a sip of water, and stare at the portal. I stare at the endless web of white, the eye-bending horizon and mind-twisting depths. No rifts, no monsters, nothing.

  It’s terrifying, really.

  So I step through, grit my teeth against the pain in my soul, and spit out yet more bile on the other side. I drink in my surroundings, spy the bckened markings of our fight with the spider...

  Gleaming light, peeking through tears in the white pilrs. Churning, endless cogs, a twitching mass of mechanical flesh I’d seen less than an hour before. A hum I’d felt when Winston peeled back the enchantments to show me the city’s wards.

  Then the waves p at my mind, magic, and soul. Two sets of waves, two songs of what I pray is two Hearts, and they’re nowhere near each other.

  Or, something grim hisses, they could be rifts. Pick wrong, and...

  I slip back through the portal, tail dragging through the soft white of the fourth yer, and wrap both girls in yet another hug.

  Origami_Narwhal