Nothing happens.

  And...

  I scan the horizon again, check our depth, check that against my senses, and do it all over again.

  Nothing continues to happen. Or, not happen, really.

  I snort, dragging my recently-lengthened tail through the gravel as we trudge onward.

  I’m going to need to practice using the tip again, aren’t I? New muscles in my back and tail for handling the extra length. Probably a few more vertebrae in there too.

  We’ve come full circle on nothingness. From my dread at the start, to being sealed inside a Delve, to the abstract itself and whatever peered out, and finally... back to walking, just with new feet. Still waiting for the next knife, sure, but out of fatigue rather than dread.

  Like a raindrop on a sunny day, perhaps. The first spatter is arming, but eventually it just becomes rain whenever the clouds roll in. Then it just becomes strange when there isn’t any rain, hah.

  Not to invite any more misfortune from the Goddess Mireise, of course. Lena’s tripped a few times from exhaustion, and Verity’s got a nasty, hacking cough that sometimes drags us to a full stop. Fortunately, the rest stops for adjusting to lower pressure seem to be taking the edge off. Water, rations, and salves go a long way for what ails us.

  For my soul, though... there’s no cure but time.

  Gods, I’m going to have to write a report on this. Not just for the Guild, but to piece together what happened. My pride and temper did bubble up a few times— that one I can put down as being unused to groups, and unprepared for working with non-Delvers at significant depth. The pressure was and is immense, physically and figuratively.

  My tail drags through the gravel once more, sweeping a rain of rocks into the riverbed beside us. Click click thud thud. Soothing sounds, soothing results, and something I might do a few more times; we’ll be walking alongside the river for most if not all of our remaining time on the yer. It’s a convenient rust-red ndmark in an otherwise endless expanse of gravel.

  Verity’s two tones trill in my ear, soft but subtly strained. “Something on your mind, Ivy?”

  I turn my head nguidly, half because everything aches, half because, really, Verity? And raise an eyebrow at her.

  She smiles toothily in response, winking. “More than usual, I mean.”

  If my raised eyebrow could go higher, it would’ve found its way onto my forehead. Lena’s subsequent soft giggle sends that theoretical eyebrow off the top of my head. Is that... a compliment? Verity isn’t the sort to hide venom in her kindness, so I’ll just call it praise and go from there.

  “Thanks,” I drawl, putting my response together as I go. “Thinking about the Delve. What’s gone well, what went poorly—”

  “—should the abstract trying to kill us count?” Verity muses. Gods, there’s the forced cheer again. "Be kind to yourself on this one, alright? We’re doing pretty darn well, all considered."

  "Doesn't Ivy, um—" Lena starts to cut in, but I raise a hand. I let that silence hang for a moment as we march along, waiting until I’ve gathered the energy for more talking.

  Gives Lena time to catch her breath, too.

  “It counts.” My eventual reply is curt, but Verity’s smile doesn’t fade. “Couldn’t have accounted for it. Something to remember, since I’ll need to clear more Delves in Craumont.”

  “That,” Lena mumbles, pausing to take a few heavy breaths. “Restoration, d-do you think you can even, um. Could more Delves be like this?”

  Crumbling. Falling apart, or perhaps dragged down by whatever thing stared back at us.

  Nobody says that part. The words catch in my throat, sinking back down before I can choke on them.

  I shrug instead, checking the meter without stopping. Six hundred marches, rising at a rate matching the curve. Good. Just to be sure, I sweep our surroundings, trickling magic into my eyes to sharpen my sight further. My ears strain, and I push aside the heartbeats of Lena and Verity. Any sounds?

  Nothing, save for the endless crunch of boots on gravel.

  Clearing my throat and rounding my tongue, I answer Lena’s question. “Not a damned clue. Hope not, but I’ll pn for it anyways. Rest in fifty marches, by the way.”

  Lena sighs. “Oh, good. Physical or— ah!”

  I hear the cck of boots thudding and stick an arm out, angling to catch Lena before she can fall again. Verity’s hand fshes out at the same time, though, one grasping Lena’s shoulder and the other sweeping around her waist.

  “Before you say anything, you are exhausted and that is okay,” Verity trills, narrowing her eyes. “No apologizing!”

  Lena straightens, dusting herself off with one hand and toying with her hair using the other. Her face is that fascinating shade of red again, this time entirely without my input. “Um. No, I should be watching where I’m going though. T-thank you, Verity!”

  Verity pats Lena lightly on the head, stepping away. “Any time, Lena.”

  Bobbing her head, Lena turns back toward me. I point forward. “Let’s get moving again.”

  Lena nods, and we resume our trudge aside the riverbed. I give her a quick once-over now that we’re moving, just to make sure she’s alright.

  I can’t imagine how tired she must feel... Gods, how long has she been awake? How far has she had to walk? She’s not really a fighter the way I am, or the way Verity is. “Let’s get moving.”

  “So, um.” She starts, still looking ahead. “Did you mean physically, or in terms of pressure?”

  “Pressure,” I confirm, checking the meter again. And a second time, just to be sure. “Forty marches now. Good progress. Everyone doing alright?”

  And then I slow, turning quickly to check behind us. Smoke, yes, but no waves of any sort. Nothing moving to approach us. I turn back around, wincing as the rocks dig into the soft scaling of my feet. Even if I’m fine with walking and running, I doubt I’m quite ready to fight on gravel just yet. There’s something off about my movement; less grip without a boot, more power with each step, and neither agree with the slightly unstable surface.

  “As fine as I can be! Still— ach— burning some extra magic to stave off the worst of pressure sickness,” Verity says cheerfully, one hand up to smooth the feathers around her eyes. “Everything stings, though. Goodness, I’m going to need so much healing after this. Four or five potions...”

  Her gauntleted hand comes away bloody, and Verity's smile remains. I watch her for as long as I can spare— golden-yellow eyes locked on my own, a patina of red tinging her feathers... the subtle stiffness of each step.

  She winks at me. “Lena?”

  “Are you sure you're, um...” Lena trails off, struggling to gather her breath again. “M-my hands are itchy and... and I have cws. I'm mostly just tired. A-and bruised.”

  She raises a hand, inspecting the short, pointed cws on her fingertips. “I-it’ll be fine, right?”

  “The barrier should keep you from the worst, hopefully,” Verity offers.

  I sigh. How much of me is bruises, and how much of me is one rge bruise? “That'd make three of us, I'll hazard. Decompression in thirty-five marches of depth.”

  Decompress, rest, and recover, because pressure sickness would kill me and Verity otherwise. On the other hand, Lena's blessing has a time limit that we're going to run against. Two hours to make two and a half hours of ascent... mmh.

  I take it back. I wish I had something to fight, just to take my mind off things.

  I was wrong— there's more than nothing out there.

  Our decompression stop goes smoothly. Time ticks down, but Lena is able to rest her eyes for a good fifteen minutes, and Verity no longer seems as stiff. We make tea and barely taste it— not even sure I could enjoy it if I tried. Can't really rex enough to enjoy anything.

  I stand watch, of course, and make sure everyone's properly awake before we get going again. Not because of confidence, but because I genuinely need that rest the least. I didn't exceed my maximum depth, and I've been Delving for years. I'll rest on one of our stops, though, even if our ascent continues unchallenged.

  I can't let my pride get the best of me again.

  Hah.

  And that is what haunts me. Pride is a ghost lurking in the eaves, a long and twisted shadow I've cast over myself.

  Swallow your damned pride, Verity had said, or something close to it.

  Something for me to think on, once we're not in a damn Delve. Once I'm not exhausted, battered, and cracked at my very core.

  Verity stands watch on the next rest stop. Hard to keep my eyes closed, but I manage to gather myself, just a bit.

  Our march continues. A handful of lumpy cy monsters stand in our way... well. They stand in our way for a moment, and then Lena’s new spell fills them with air and ruptures them like overfilled canteens. Her rambling, eager expnation of the structure burns away the minutes, far more pleasant than just marching in silence and agony.

  The decompression stop after that, which is right at the portal to the second yer, Lena takes watch. She volunteers for it, hesitates, and tells me she'll say something if she starts to fg.

  I'm tempted to tell her no. Right now, it's hard to trust someone so... untested, but I’ve no real reason to turn her down. It’s not like she’ll be doing it alone, either, given I’ll be spending most of it just pnning on how to reopen the Delve.

  Verity, though, has no such worries or needs; she tosses the bedroll down, drops onto it with arms behind her head, and closes her eyes. “I doubt I can fall asleep, but even a little rest can go a long way.”

  Lena, after some shuffling, sits down on a decently rge rock. And then stands up again, a few minutes ter, scanning the area before sitting back down. From the looks of things, I’d hazard she’s trying to stay awake.

  Turning my focus away from her, I sit cross-legged and think on the work ahead of me. Let’s see, the Delve was fully sealed, but the seam wasn’t perfect, so maybe...

  And the minutes trickle by.

  Just as our rest is at its end, Lena stands up again, pacing around us. I can hear her boots crunching across the gravel, and curl my tail out of the way so she can walk by.

  “I'm sorry, Ivy,” Lena murmurs. Does she know I can hear her? “It's... my fault. If I hadn't lied about the box, or...”

  She trails off with a yawn.

  “Restoration, I'm so tired.”

  And Gods, it’s been a damned long day, hasn’t it. I got up early for this descent, and we’ll probably be closer to sunrise than sunset by the time we’re out.

  “Much the same, Lena. Adamantine, grant us strength,” Verity murmurs, stirring. She coughs, shoulders shuddering, but still drags herself off the ground. “Ready. How are you two?”

  I snort, running my cws across my scales. The dull ache of pressure sickness seeps into my joints, stubbornly clinging to existence. “Still have a few minutes on our adjustment time. Take a guess.”

  Verity shrugs, gathering up her messy curls into a high ponytail. “And sour our moods more? Nah. Lena?”

  “Ah, could you check on my b-blessing?” Lena yawns again, shaking her head and then scratching it. “I’m, um, fine, but I think it's weakening.”

  As much as I'd like to go, we wait out the rest of the recovery time. No more risks. At the rate we're going, if Lena's blessing fades, it'll happen at a depth she can handle. We'll make it. We have to.

  Even if that blessing was weakened by our battle with the abstract. Verity's check only confirms it.

  Layer two blows by, as Verity puts it. Windy yer, blowing by. Terrible pun for a terrible yer, as I pull the strings on the portal and sm it shut. Doesn’t take much Delve magic to stitch rather than mend, and we’re still well within the safe range to open the exit portal.

  ...Never mind that if we didn’t seal any of these, this entire expedition would’ve been a waste. Well, it’s already a bit of a loss, but we might get something out of it, and I’ll take that along with getting out alive.

  I might've snorted, but Verity is wracked by coughs before the awful humor can settle in. So we trudge along the cliffside in the howling, hungry wind, eyes turned toward the vast chasm.

  The few stony monsters that arrive barely stand a chance.

  Finally, finally— The golden sky of the first yer. Inky smoke bleeding from stony wounds, grass that cracks like sun-bleached bone. After a moment to breathe, I spin around and begin pulling the portal closed.

  “Oh, thank the Gods,” Verity rasps, her two tones scraping my ears. She coughs, shakes her head, and tries again. “Adamantine for her strength, and the Restoration for protecting Lena. Speaking of...”

  She reaches out and taps Lena's shoulder. “Oh, wow! Amazing timing, your blessing has maybe two minutes on it. N-no, wait, thr—”

  Verity's words dissolve into a coughing fit, and Lena stiffens. My tail is halfway to her feet before I stop it.

  A dark part of me stirs, lifting old memories from the deep. Verity exceeded her Depth limit by at least two hundred marches, then jumped up close to a thousand. That she's still standing is incredible, really. But, like me, she'll probably have some permanent changes...

  I quash those thoughts before they can go further. Not the time, not when I have to scan the horizon for monsters.

  “Verity!” Lena shouts, just loud enough to hurt my ears. “Are you, um.”

  Verity raises her other hand, waving us on. “Last s-stretch. Just a. A moment.”

  We rest long enough for Verity to gather herself— I keep watch, but it's hardly restful. Fingers, that rotting sensation, still pries at my body and soul. I've mostly managed to ignore it, but even then it's a slow, slow drain on what strength I have left.

  My tail sweeps through the bone-grass, dragging out a symphony of shattered bone and pattering ccks. “Lena, Verity. Stay together. I'll lead.”

  Verity's coughing trails off. Yellow-gold eyes and blue-bck sclera waver as I watch, but she smiles anyways. Lena nods, and a tiny smile spreads onto her lips.

  “Almost, almost there,” Lena nods. “T-thank you.”

  That'll do, as motivation goes. Once I'm sure they're ready, I turn around and walk through the grass, one heavy step after the other. “No need.”

  I reach out with my magic and feel for the curve, shifting our heading to match. The Depth ticks up, march by march, a ticking rhythm behind three slowing heartbeats.

  One hundred. Ninety. Eighty. Seventy, sixty five—

  “O-oh!” Lena blurts, followed by a thud. “Oh, Gods, a-ah. Fingers, on my—”

  I spin around, lurching toward Lena. She's on her knees and pulling herself up, but she looks distinctly green.

  Verity, silent but smiling, raises a hand. Sun bursts into being, a radiant white-yellow light that leaps from her fingers before spshing onto Lena's side.

  The light in Verity's eyes dims, but Lena's pallor warms itself away. Still, though, Lena’s shoulders are slumped as she rises up, and her hands keep going to scratch at the top of her head.

  “Blessing just burned out,” Verity rasps, wringing her fingers. “Made a barrier of Sun. Won't st long. Doesn't prevent e-exposure. Just go.”

  Just go, indeed. Once I'm sure Verity can walk— she meets my eyes and nods— I reluctantly turn around. My heart aches for both of them, tugging me back, demanding I fix what ails them.

  No better way than to get us out of here, is there?

  So I force my eyes forward, wave my tail through the grasses, and keep walking. Watch for monsters, feel the curve, correct our angle.

  Fifty marches. Forty five. Forty. Minute after agonizing minute. I wipe blood from my lips, help Lena when she trips. Verity needs a moment to breathe, she gets it.

  Thirty.

  I pull a Heart out of my belt bags. The tar of Delve magic creeps over me, seeping into every crack.

  I'll need all of them for this. Not enough hands, and I can't risk dropping them.

  Twenty marches. Lena says something— I can't quite hear it, but the fear in her eyes as she looks at her lengthening cws tells me enough.

  Fifteen marches. The Delver's Guild has procedures that advise against handling more than three Hearts. Too risky— that much magic at once is dangerous.

  Well.

  I've already fallen into the abstract today, haven't I? Can't get worse than that.

  I pull on the Heart. Hard. Tar flows into me, a mass of sludge thick enough to choke on. I pull and pull and pull, teeth grit against a cracking soul, until the Heart dims and my own cws turn gssy.

  Ten marches. I'm jogging now, and the girls aren't far behind.

  I reach for a second Heart and pull once more. The pain is hardly worth mentioning— once again, the abstract was worse. My body isn't even falling apart here. I'll manage.

  “Sstand back,” I hiss out. “Time for usss to go. Home.”

  “Be careful, Ivy,” Lena murmurs.

  Verity coughs out a trill. “Adamantine is with you.”

  Bck cws trail along the fused seam. My eyes should be forward, but I spare a gnce back at Lena and Verity— bruised, battered, torn and worn; I refuse to keep them here a moment longer.

  Dongbaek will suffer for this. I will break every bone, sink my fangs into his flesh and rip—

  “I'll do my bessst,” I manage. Focus, Ivy. Pull the Delve open, anchor to the World, and stabilize.

  I've enough Delve magic in me to pull on the rest without touching them, now. The tar flows, the tar drowns my soul, but it holds fast the shape my will demands. My cws shall be my bdes, my seam-rippers.

  My cws sink into the Delve, and it howls.

  I press through the membrane of impossibility, I work my way in bit by bit, pulling and dragging with mind, magic, and muscle.

  The Delve pushes back, swinging closed—

  But I won't allow it. My shoulders twinge. Aching muscles burn. I push and push until my cws bleed, leaning forward on my new feet—

  And then, contact. The World's fabric, held together imperfectly. Just enough for a bckened cw to worm its way through. Golden threads cling to my scales, holding fast against the Delve's resistance.

  Distantly, under the scream of the Delve, I hear a Heart shatter. Then another, and another, as I shape the tar and fit it through the gaps.

  I—

  will not—

  die like they did.

  I am better. I am stronger, scaled and armored and fanged; a weapon made to carve through the dark. The Delve may roar and thrash, but I can snarl back. I am not that fragile girl bleeding in the b, stitching a portal closed with shattered hands.

  Crrk.

  Something fractures, a crisp and sharp shriek that cuts through the wall of sound. The pressure eases, my cws burrow deeper, and I—

  Pull.

  Shoulders flex, tendons strain. My feet dig into the ground, my tail sways to keep me steady. One fracture becomes many, crackling like gss. The gap widens beneath my bckened cws, ying bare the Delve's impossible mechanisms... and beyond it, wound around my fingers in threads of gold, the World.

  With the Delve wedged open, and my arms trembling, everything comes to a standstill. The edges still need reinforcing before anyone can pass through, but I can't quite gather myself enough to manage.

  The Delve goes silent.

  Or, no. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears, each ragged breath I draw into my lungs. Sweat trickles down my skin, and the blood on my tongue tastes like iron. I can even hear my own cws cracking, and the ctter of scales sloughing from my hands.

  Bone-grass shatters, a metal glove clinks against my armor.

  “Oh, Gods,” Lena says softly. “I-Ivy... be careful.”

  “Almost there,” Verity coos. “We believe in you.”

  Did they think I was giving up?

  Hopefully not. Goddess, I must look awful, if that's what they thought.

  I open my mouth to speak my mind, and all that comes out is a wheeze.

  Time to go, then.

  Taking a deep breath, I tug on the remaining Hearts. The tar flows once more, and with it, the threads of the World become mine to weave. Never mind the sensation of my soul cracking further, never mind the blood that seeps from my scales, I gather those threads in my will and guide them into pce. Gold meets yellow, World meets Delve, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, the pressure on my arms fades away.

  And then, as the st Hearts crack, the World parts, and...

  We're free.

  Oh, thank the Goddess, we're free.

  Origami_Narwhal