“Godsdamnit Mortimer!” one of the other Senior Wizards cried. “If the Mistress doesn’t fry your brain for this, I’m spreading it across the street!”

  Mortimer simply raised an eyebrow as he hefted a glass vial and hurled it down the hole. He was standing at the second to last floor of the Tower, twenty floors off the ground. A few moments later, a muffled ‘boom’ echoed upwards. One of the Witch Hunters was caught in a blast of caustic acid. They leapt behind cover on one of the lower floors to try and cleanse their body of the burning substance.

  Unluckily for them, it was one of his ‘extra sticky’ mixtures. He doubted they’d have time to peel off their clothes before it started eating their skin.

  “If the Mistress chooses to intervene at all, it’ll be to turn us all into puppets, so shut up and keep casting,” Mortimer hissed back. “Besides, once the bloody dragon hits the twelfth floor, they’ll be distracted. Prepare one of your better spells for that moment.”

  ○ ○ ○

  My tail smashed into a clattering man made of metal and sent it flying across the eleventh floor. The further up we went in the Tower of Baedain, the more difficult our ascent became. Weaker Wizards tended to work on lower floors. Whoever was in charge of the tenth, eleventh, and presumably the floor above had been an incredible packrat.

  Junk was scattered all around the eleventh floor from where I had knocked things over. Innumerable bookshelves, tables, and containers crunched beneath my claws as I fought my way through. The man made of metal was just one example of how the furniture itself was trying to assault me and my companions.

  I whipped my head around and bit down on a cabinet as it leapt at Visk, doors open, in an attempt to capture them. It’s wood splintered between my fangs, followed by an unpleasant foul tasting liquid. I spat it out onto the floor with due haste.

  “Thanks Boss!” Visk said before vanishing back into the air.

  Cassia crouched on my back and fired an arrow at a glass container which sailed towards me from the far side of the room. Whatever liquid was inside, was splattered across a bookshelf when the arrow broke the glass. A flock of screeching tomes burst from the shelves, fleeing in terror as their pages were consumed with what looked like liquid fire.

  “Gods I hate bleeding Wizards!” Sir Kenneth cried as he swung a war axe and bisected a broom that had been trying to beat him to death. “I’m with you Sanguine, let's burn this place down once we’re done.”

  I gave an amused chuff as my claws latched onto a kettle that was glowing white hot. A disturbing whistle was coming from its spout, which cut off sharply as I crushed it between my claws. It exploded in my grasp, which embedded some metal in my softer scales. The boiling water would have done far worse to my companions if it had touched them.

  “As good as that may feel, young knight, it is inadvisable,” Veda said as they jumped back down the hole from above. Blood dripped from their bladed staff. “The other Towers will demand that we turn over any non-Banned material to their care. We cannot afford to fight them all, even with Lord Draconis’s power.”

  “When did you suddenly get all friendly?” Visk asked as they popped back into sight, bloody daggers in hand. “One scary-as-shite show of power and you show your neck, ‘clip-ear’?”

  Veda tilted their head at Visk, who grimaced as they wiped the blood from their blades with a scrap of cloth. The sounds of battle continued to echo from above.

  “Most of the Senior Wizards have withdrawn to the upper floors, Lord Draconis,” Veda said to me directly. “A trap is likely. We must either attempt to scale the Tower from the outside, or force our way through.”

  The other four Witch Hunters dropped back onto our floor as Veda spoke. One of them looked like they had been horribly burned. The biting smell of acid exuded from their body. Another had innumerable small cuts across their body, all of which bled freely. The remaining two and Veda seemed battered, but still ready to fight.

  “They want to bog us down and buy time,” Visk contributed. “If they’re not showing their full hand to crush us immediately, they’re waiting for something else to happen. Either they’re trying to find a way to escape, or their biggest attack requires time to prepare.”

  “An astute observation ‘long ears’,” Veda replied with a soft teasing tone. Visk grumbled.

  I turned my attention to the two heavily wounded Witch Hunters. While they might be weaker than the others, I was sure we would need every person we could get as we approached the top of the Tower. My breath hissed in through my teeth as I focused on their Vitae. It moved sluggishly in response at first, but after a couple of breaths it followed my command.

  A low hum reverberated out of my throat, a vaguely musical sound. The Vitae within both Witch Hunters followed the tune eagerly and flowed into their wounds. Shallow cuts which bled freely clotted at my command. Acid released its grip on flesh and clothing, dropping inert to the floor.

  When I closed my mouth again, I realized that all the Witch Hunters were staring at me. Even those four that remained masked had something like shock in their eyes. Nearly as one, they started talking over each other towards Veda. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it sounded like Visk’s own speech, or something close enough.

  “... I must thank you, Lord Draconis,” Veda said. “Normally it would be… highly offensive, to assert one’s tael onto others but…” They examined the other Witch Hunter’s wounds with a critical eye. “When times are desperate, even that which is offensive must be gladly born.”

  Veda cast a narrow eyed glance at Visk, who shrank back and took cover behind me.

  “If there is a trap, it is likely set for me,” I growled to get us back on track. “I will force its jaws open. My People will be taking the stairs. You should accompany them.”

  “Agreed.” Veda pointed at the opposite staircase while looking at their squad. “Traey, Gyaen, Kaela. Take the far stairs. Mamaet, accompany Lord Draconis’s retainers.” Veda’s blue eyes locked on me as the Witch Hunters split off to either side. “I shall accompany you.”

  “Very well.” I didn’t feel like arguing. Veda was the strongest out of their squad. If anyone could survive whatever trap Mortimer had laid, it was them.

  My Cassia pressed their fingers to their pursed lips and flicked them at me as she turned to head for the stairs. I didn’t know how to respond to that and gave a low rumble instead. Veda’s shining eyes remained on me.

  “Let’s go.” I turned to climb up to the next floor before Veda chose to comment.

  To my surprise, most of the twelfth floor had been cleared out. An initial pile of clutter near the hole obscured how the rest of the floor had been cleared. If anything, it looked like whoever had been occupying this place had been in the middle of packing up to leave when we attacked.

  What was left sitting in the middle of the open floor was a bird cage. Inside of it was a white raven. Just after my body cleared the boundary between the floors, a shimmering field of energy snapped into place, both above and below me. Veda narrowly avoided being caught in the field as they jumped up with me.

  There was no time to break through the barrier before a horrifying squawk erupted from the cage. The last time I had seen the white Raven, the black cloud infesting its feathers had been weakened. Now, a multitude of roiling colors churned within its body. Whatever had possessed the creature before had smelled like Death. Its current scent was closer to a burning trash fire.

  As soon as the Raven’s eyes landed on me, it leapt into a frenzy. The bird cage shattered against its beak. White feathers fell from its body as it flew towards me. Mid flight, its body warped and cracked. Wings elongated and then burst into claws. A curved beak split into quarters, exposing rows of serrated teeth. Its whole body swelled to far beyond its original mass.

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  When Archibald rammed into me, it was no longer a Raven. It was a monster warped into a crude mockery of the shape of a dragon. White feathers still clung in ragged patches across its body, but its flesh was ragged and torn, skin barely able to contain its unnatural muscles.

  Whatever you could call the creature now, it had enough strength to slam me to the side and carry me across the floor of the Tower. My body slammed into the ancient stones, creating a sizable crack in the wall. Broken claws and serrated teeth both scratched across my scales.

  Third had been far stronger than this monstrosity, but the energies burning its flesh from the inside out were far more dangerous than brute strength. I saw the polluted rainbow within its gut start to erupt outwards as it tried to pin me to the wall. My clawed foot jammed into its face, forcing its split mouth away from me.

  A golden cord made of light wrapped around its neck at the same time, dragging it backwards. The lasso was attached to the end of Veda’s staff, which they held onto with all their might. It was just barely enough to redirect the oily prismatic eruption away from me. The stone of the Tower’s wall evaporated like ice subjected to heat, its raw substance unmade in a moment. If that breath had touched my flesh, it would have unmade me in the same way.

  I forced the raven-beast away from me with a savage double kick from my hind legs. It slid across the floor several paces as the eruption ended. Even the beast’s own flesh had been melted by the foul substance. A howl of pain and rage stuttered and gasped out of its ruined face, which reshaped itself into an even more grotesque form as I put some distance between it and myself.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Veda said to me as I moved next to them. “The young Knight was correct. If Baedain contains horrors such as this, it is better that we burn the entire Tower to the ground. The others can get bent.”

  The golden lasso connected to the raven-beast’s neck snapped and dissipated into the air. A thick viscous ‘caw’ burst out of the thing's throat as it rounded on us. The wounds my claws had dealt to it were already closed as its flesh was remade over and over.

  A quick flick of my Vitae eyelids showed that its body was a tangled rats nest of competing flows, all fighting for dominance over the same body. Multiple spirits were inhabiting the same space. If the raven’s own spirit still existed, it was buried so far beneath the others that I couldn’t see it.

  “Can you hold it still for a moment?” I asked as the creature prepared to charge at us, its bulging musculature ripping through its skin.

  “I can try, Lord Draconis,” Veda replied. The stone floor beneath the raven beast shattered as it launched towards us. Veda’s staff flicked towards it. Golden threads surged out in a web, seeking to tangle its limbs.

  A screech passed the raven-beast’s destroyed throat as its footing was fouled. The golden threads snapped a moment later, but that was all I had asked for. As the beast tumbled across the floor, I darted forward to meet it. My clawed foot smashed into its bisected head and shoved it to one side to expose its neck.

  Red scaled and bursting flesh entangled as we grappled with each other. The raven-beast’s flesh tried to remake itself to escape the grasp of my teeth, but the place I bit down on was anchored into one shape. Razor sharp dragon claws competed with constantly reshaped limbs as we rolled across the floor. Pain flared in my side as a shard of bone found a weak spot in my scales and punched through.

  Veda could only stay out of the way as the raven-beast and I ripped and tore at each other. Their spells would hit both me and the creature if they tried to cast.

  The physical battle was not the one that would decide who won between me and the raven-beast. All of the spirits infesting its flesh could undo any wound I inflicted upon it with my claws or teeth. So I instead forced the conflict to be one of spirit.

  A foul taste burst into my mouth that went beyond rot and decay. It was a vile concoction of acid and chemicals, like all of the worst contents of an alchemy lab mixed together. I didn’t want to contemplate what this creature’s blood would do to my mouth, but biting had always been my best way to force a Vitae connection.

  Multiple spirits lashed out at me as I pushed my will against those infesting the raven-beast. I could feel seething rage and despair assaulting me from all sides. My worst fears and the frustration I had felt at being stuck beneath the ground in this city were but a candle before the riotous flame burning this raven’s flesh from the inside out.

  These spirits were cornered animals who had been trapped and tormented for longer than I could imagine. I was the last thing that stood between them and imagined freedom. The only thing keeping the raven’s flesh from exploding into viscera from the violent changes wrought upon it was a delicate balance that kept any one spirit from overwhelming the others.

  As I forced myself into the fray, all that were present turned and lashed out at me instead. Unfocused anger howled for my flesh to be sundered. Despair dragged me down, a sensation of drowning hands pulling me from below. Mindless fear sought to hide inside of my mind and infest my body as a stronger host.

  None were strong enough to overcome me individually, but together they posed a serious threat. I could feel myself withering under their assault, a larger beast harried from all sides by smaller predators. I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

  My connection with Cassia flared. An impression of her fighting on the stairs and grappling with other flesh horrors forced its way into my awareness. I could feel her desperation and determination in equal measure. She wanted to be by my side, fighting beside me.

  ‘MINE.’

  The thought slammed the warring spirits downwards under crushing pressure. They were no different than the world around me, microcosms of the threats that tried to take what was mine away from me.

  Third’s unthinking rage, that slaughtered and consumed without care for the damage it caused. Edith’s wail as she held onto T’laanga’s lifeless body, demanding to know why the people she cared for always suffered. Visk’s heart clenched with fear for what would happen if someone cared for them again.

  These spirits had suffered, that I would grant them. But that gave them no right to spread their pain to anything they touched. Even if I freed them from the prison of flesh they had been shackled to, they would only go into the world and cause further tragedy.

  I bit down harder, drew that pain into myself, and made it mine.

  ○ ○ ○

  Sixth had been stuck inside her brother’s head for a while, stewing with only her own thoughts for company.

  Did she mind that she had a new lease on life, freed from the unliving hell of being a broken spirit under First’s claw? Not in the slightest. What she had a problem with was how her brother Sanguine wasted all his time on other people when he needed to focus on growing his own strength.

  Being cut off by a trap when she was in the middle of explaining that to him was the height of irony.

  Would she have been able to guess that Second was adept at mind and perception based magic? Possibly, if she’d had more time to examine things. Instead, her brother had stumbled right into the first trap that Second laid for him.

  Knocking a Dragon out with magic wasn’t easy. It required directly overpowering their willpower. Sixth was spectacularly unlucky in this case, in that her will was subordinate to Sanguine’s in the current arrangement. Anything that overpowered him caught her by default.

  She could tell that he’d woken up and gotten into all kinds of trouble since, but she was still tied down by the lingering magic inside of his head. If he had gone to sleep she could have talked to him in the Dream, but the idiot never slept!

  All she could do was sit inside of his Dream Den and watch the power flowing in and out of him. He’d done some magic that she was quite interested in lately. She wanted to ask about it, but couldn’t. It was like an itch that she wasn’t able to scratch.

  As she watched, a surge of oily light flooded in from the outside. The golden spiral in his core started spinning like a whirlwind to try and keep up with the sudden influx. Sixth’s bound consciousness was swept away in the flood and swung around.

  She tried to shriek through the cord of mental magic gagging her mouth, but was unable to. What the hell was he trying to eat?! That was way too much! Not to mention it was absolutely filthy. A couple of stray wisps that touched her made her projection recoil in disgust.

  All of that pain and negative emotion was being sucked down into the center of his core and ground into golden dust. Recontextualization, taking someone else’s pain and reframing it as your own, was certainly one way to handle it. Sixth’s issue was that she was going to get absorbed right alongside it, as she was swept along with the tide!

  Sanguine’s awareness passed over his Dream Den with the same presence of a storm cloud passing in front of the sun. The mental magic binding Sixth shattered and reformed into a protective bubble around her. She was ushered out of the spiral and nestled down into the collection of stars that represented her brother’s treasures.

  The constellation had broadened recently to include a ‘central’ formation and an outer one. Sixth’s small pink projection was floating in the outer formation. She didn’t mind that, given that the three stars in the center formation tended to involve a lot of ‘complicated’ feelings for her brother.

  No, Sixth was quite happy to be regarded as ‘treasured family’ rather than a possible mate. Not that her brother seemed to even understand the latter concept.

  The titanic consciousness of the brother in question focused on her for a few moments. Sixth suddenly felt very small. She did what she normally did when she felt overwhelmed by the nonsense he pulled and gave him a backhanded compliment.

  Sanguine’s low rumble of amusement shook the Dream Den.

  ‘Don’t forget to sleep idiot! We need to talk!’ she yipped up at him as his consciousness turned back to the waking world. She was left floating in the protective bubble when he left. It was better than being bound and gagged, she supposed.