A muddled blur of white, pink, and grey screams down from the flock

  overhead, its gleaming beak making it more javelin than bird. The

  flock follows in ones and twos, unspooling like a chain following its

  anchor into the sea.

  “They’re diving!” Helena calls out from somewhere behind me.

  Her voice has a shrill edge to it, but she keeps her tone even.

  “I can see that, Helena!” I shout back, pushing Wind into my arms

  and pulling a hand back for a punch. Something catches the corner of

  my eye, though, and I risk a moment to look. Oh, great, those

  driftwood rats are back. We’d spotted them scurrying along, I’d

  kicked a few off some buildings, and that was that.

  But now there were a lot of them, climbing up to us on a cluster of

  flowering vines. “You get the rats!”

  “But I can—”

  “, Helena!” I snarl, looking back at the

  birds. The Wind is churning now, swirling like a storm around a

  clenched fist. My other hand reaches forwards, acting like the sights

  on a crossbow.

  The screaming of the birds turns to an overwhelming roar of sound,

  drowning out everything else— but I hold. They’re almost level

  with us, now.

  Helena says something I can’t hear, and a blast of greenish Wind

  ripples out beside me. Rat-shaped lumps of driftwood go sailing

  through the air, shattering against other buildings or falling out of

  sight. The birds draw ever closer, close enough for me to make out

  the individual seashells that form their bodies.

  I jab forward, and the Wind follows eagerly.

  It moves out as an almost-invisible ripple of turbulence, scything

  through the flock and tearing at their bodies. Some slam together,

  scattering as shattered shells; others falter and are dragged away by

  the swirling Wind.

  The flock parts before me, almost hesitating—

  Like a wolf’s jaw, they snap shut around me instead, screaming and

  cawing.

  My free arm pulls back to guard my face, and I grunt as several

  slam into it. Gods, those will make for some

  strange bruises. They tear by me like knives, nipping at my exposed

  skin and scales, shrieking loud enough that I’m worried my ears

  might bleed.

  The jaw opens, and the flock rises into the sky, curling and

  tangling. I let out a low snarl, venting irritation and scraping my

  tail along the white plaster as hard as I can. My hit had done

  nothing at all— worse, actually, since I wasted magic for it.

  “Don’t make me wait,” I bite out, flexing my fingers. Violet

  light flickers between them as I pour in the Lightning, tugging at my

  reserves of magic. “If that one didn’t work, I’ll just hit

  harder."

  It'd be an even bigger drain, a bigger risk, but I can't see Helena

  managing this. Plus, I've seen worse.

  “Bless me, Restoration.” Helena mutters, and I spare a second to

  glance at her again. A flick of her hand sends another clump of rats

  flying, a motion with her fingers disassembles some of the shoddier

  looking ones. Her brow is furrowed, her feet planted firmly, and her

  eyes spare only a heartbeat to meet my own.

  “Running low, Helena?” I ask, sparing the birds a glance. They’re

  unspooling in the sky again, untangling as another dive begins. I

  feed the Lightning on my hands again, inhaling the sharp scent of

  storms. “Don’t overdo it.”

  “I know. Um. Sorry, concentrating.” She replies shortly, tilting

  her head. The greenish glow swirls outwards from her hands, and

  suddenly the piles of disassembled rats launch forward, crashing into

  yet more driftwood rats. “Too many rats.”

  Maybe I’d put a little too much trust in her, with how many

  monsters she had to deal with. But here Helena is, holding her own,

  and I recognize the spell structure as the one she’d been studying

  this morning. I’ve seen apprentices to Archmages crumble under even

  this light pressure, so I suppose I’m actually impressed.

  “Keep it up, then,” I say dryly, rather than give her a big head.

  The shrill whistle of the birds drags my attention back where it

  belongs. The flock has fully unwound, now, diving down for another

  pass. Well, at least they aren’t clever enough to learn anything, I

  suppose.

  I twist my body to the side, planting my feet and sticking one hand

  out to aim. Wind joins Lightning, and the air turns electric. I can

  feel tiny hairs standing up all over my body, and I reel my other

  hand back until it’s in line with my side.

  Wind hadn’t done it. Lightning on its own would just melt the

  seashells or burn out Helena’s eyes.

  Together, though? It’ll be fun.

  The birds come closer, flying more like a swarm of arrows than a

  flock of monsters. They’re more spread out, this time; if I let

  them get in range, they’ll already be on Helena and she can’t

  defend against cuts like I can.

  Three, two—

  . My fist snaps forward, my body follows. Hip and shoulder

  twist to let the motion carry just a little bit further. A sound like

  a cannon shot follows the howling Wind, rushing through the monsters

  as flickers of violet Lightning draw searing branches in the air.

  For a heartbeat, silence.

  Then the Lightning connects, a violent web of knotted branches that

  sets the monsters aglow. Sound roars back in as the flock crumbles,

  cracking into glassy fragments.

  Seashells scatter through the sky, the ringing of my strike barely

  registering over my thumping heartbeat. My arm aches, just a bit, and

  I can feel the dent I’d just made in my own magic. I close my eyes,

  exhaling sharply.

  "Gods," I groan, shaking my now completely scaled hand to

  get rid of the tingling sensation, "I love that trick. Helena,

  are you alright?"

  I turn around and open my eyes, inspecting the driftwood carnage

  littering the wall we were standing on. Helena looks a little scuffed

  up, but her eyes are gleaming all the same. Wind curls around her

  gently, flirting with the pages of the tome clutched in her hands.

  She looks back at me and swallows, nodding.

  "That was, um, loud," she manages, and the Wind around her

  fades. "I don't know if my spell would've been any better,

  though. I was hoping to displace the air below them, and..."

  "Yeah, you're just fine," I crack a grin, waving my

  not-tingling hand at her casually.

  Resting my hands on my hips, I tilt my head back and look at what's

  left to climb. The houses are getting closer together now, but we can

  still weave through alleys and use the sides of them as platforms to

  fight— as we'd just done.

  "Restoration bless me," Helena sighs, rubbing her arms and

  sidling up next to me. "How many more of those, do you think?

  The rats are, ah..." She shudders. "Surely there's a

  limit?"

  I reach out to pat her shoulder, but hesitate and pull it back

  completely. "Not really, no, but I don't think we'll see many

  more. If this Delve was deeper and older—"

  "—well, um, I've read—"

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lashing my tail against the ground, I raise my voice to speak over

  Helena. "If this Delve was deeper, there'd be more monsters and

  they'd form faster. But this is shallow and new, so we're probably

  alright until the next layer. Maybe a few more, but nothing I can’t

  handle."

  Helena snaps her jaw shut with a . She nods, takes a

  breath, and continues, "Can't you deepen Delves using Delve

  Hearts? For a young and deep Delve—"

  I shake my head, scattering a sudden burst of frustration to the

  winds. "That one has a long answer, Helena, and I'd like to

  close this Delve with enough time to prepare for a formal dinner."

  "Ah." Helena pouts in the corner of my eye. Gods, that's a

  dangerous expression on her.

  I do my best to ignore it, and point at the cliffroad in front of us,

  tracing a path around the building above that avoids all the vines.

  They're a lot more dense up here— practically clogging the windows

  in their quest for sunlight.

  Well, skylight, on account of there being no Sun in here. Celestial

  objects don’t always seem to play well with fake skies.

  I draw a few paths with my outstretched hand, some coming up from our

  position and some coming down from the chapel. After ten or twenty of

  them, I bring my hand back in to stroke my chin. “The vines haven’t

  done anything yet, but.”

  “Yet,” Helena repeats, humming thoughtfully. “They do carry the

  rats, and I haven’t seen them bend under the weight. Maybe we could

  climb them, or, or... hm.”

  “I could probably climb them.” I concede, dismissing the idea in

  my head. Not a chance Helena actually has the strength for that. I’d

  have to carry her on my back, no doubt, and... no thanks.

  “But we don’t know if the vines would react, and I don’t want

  to find out. So let’s take a path around here,” I say, sticking

  my hand out again to draw the path. “Up around that big house, then

  curving around the houses with vines until we hit the top. We can

  just walk across the top of the cliff, probably, and get to the

  chapel.”

  “Unless the top of the cliff has a different direction of gravity,

  or something else equally impossible?” Helena guesses, spreading

  her hands out and muttering under her breath. “I’ll need to

  prepare my climbing spell again. Um, one moment.”

  “You catch on quickly,” I nod approvingly, striding over to the

  cliffroad and scanning for good hand-holds. The claws’ll make it

  easier, and I decide that I’ll circulate a bit of magic through my

  hands to make sure they stay as claws.

  “Um, thank you?” Helena says distractedly, eyes fixed on the

  greenish glow slowly wrapping around her hands. “I’ve read a lot

  about this. I’ve prepared for everything!”

  I hold my tongue on that one. Overconfidence has been the death of

  countless Delvers, but it’s a lesson not easily learned by most.

  I’m able to pull myself over the top of the cliffside without

  further incident, fortunately. A few stray birds and some rats, sure,

  but hardly anything notable. No need to punch hard enough to make my

  arm sore... yet. Maybe I’ll get something fun on the next layer,

  but I really shouldn’t hope for danger.

  The top of the cliff is an endless expanse of weathered stone and

  scrappy vegetation, forming a strange mirror of the infinite sea

  stretching across the opposite horizon. And, just like that ocean,

  it’s completely empty of interesting. Beyond, of

  course, the weathered chapel in the distance.

  Meanwhile, Helena seems to be having a bit of a tough time.

  She’s a puddle, specifically.

  A puddle I have to pull over the ledge, both her hands clinging to

  one of my own hard enough to bruise someone with less scales. A

  boneless, if adorable, apprentice mage that flops onto the ground

  with a groan, her hair fanned out around her.

  “You alright?” I crouch down and reach for the flask Helena had

  in her bag, tugging it out to offer back to her.

  She makes a sound that is best written as “mrgl”, snatching the

  flask from my hand and hastily uncapping it.

  “Try not to drink it all. Drinking too much after working hard

  can—”

  “Cause retching and stomach pains.” Helena gasps out, capping the

  flask and propping herself up. “I. Um, yes, I know. Just thirsty.

  How aren’t you thirsty?”

  I grin wide enough to show off all my sharp teeth, hooking a finger

  under my collar and tugging it down slightly to expose the scales

  under my collarbone. “I’m a Mageblood. Well, a Drake Mageblood,

  if you want to be specific. We just feed off the magic of the Delve,

  at least in the short term, and over enough Delves we change to

  resist the pressure. That’s in your books, right?”

  She stares for a moment before shaking her head and looking away.

  After a few heavy breaths, she pulls herself back up to standing. “It

  is. I was just, um, grousing. I’m guessing the entryway to the next

  layer will be in the chapel? There’s...”

  Helena gestures at our surroundings, her hand eventually pointing

  toward the chapel.

  “Is that a common thing, for the entry point to be repeated? I know

  it can happen, I’ve read it and talked to some Delvers hired by

  Lord Winston, but I don’t know how well that matches with reality.”

  “Good question.” I nod along. Once it looks like Helena’s ready

  to start walking, we head out, and I pick up the conversation there.

  “Repeating entry points mostly happen on shallow layers of Delves.

  Statistics aren’t my thing, but if I were to go through every

  report I’ve made to the Delvers’ Guild I’d guess...”

  One Delve every two weeks, let’s say, since I became a proper

  Mageblood. Looping entry points happen, what, five times a year? Six?

  Five over twenty six. Nineteen percent and some change left over.

  I tap my chin. “Just about one in five, maybe.”

  “Why?” Helena says, fortunately mostly to herself. I can hear her

  scribbling in a notebook, muttering things under her breath. “I’ll

  have to... do you have any books on Delving in your library?”

  Yes, and I know them all by name. I didn’t just fall into this line

  of work, I fell in love with it. The thrill of battle, of planning

  out an exploration, of finding something impossible. The dream of

  becoming a Mageblood, on top of it all.

  “A few,” I say instead, looking away.

  Conversation dies down, replaced with the soft sound of waves on the

  cliff below. I let it wash over me, count it out as Helena turns

  pages in her book and murmurs about magic. It’s a comfortable

  variation on what’s normal, in my work; Delving is often very

  quiet, but Helena’s presence is making it a different sort of

  quiet.

  Maybe I’ll see about joining a group of Delvers, once I leave

  Craumont? It could be fun.

  … professional Delvers, preferably.

  Once Helena’s recovered enough from her puddle form to get going,

  we head straight for, and into, the chapel. Through the inadvisable

  inward-swinging doors, smashed open like the ones outside the Delve,

  and weathering all sorts of curious questions and rambling

  throughout.

  Well, it’s mostly me weathering those. I like to think my answers

  are succinct, most of the time.

  The inside of this chapel is somehow even more of a mess than the

  real one, even if it’s more well-lit. Shattered glass and kindling

  litter the claw-gouged floor, with piles of scrap and brass shoved up

  against the corners. Just trying to walk would shred most people’s

  feet, and while my scales are tough, I’d rather not test them here.

  As a precaution, I pull my tail up, letting it wrap upwards around my

  hip and waist.

  Helena seems to have the same thought. A gentle pulse of Wind rolls

  across the floor— too gentle, barely nudging the wood and glass.

  Another stronger pulse shoves past, drawing a clear path from one end

  of the chapel to the other.

  “That mural,” she starts, stepping around me, eyes focused firmly

  on the mural in back. “Huh.”

  “Huh?” I repeat quietly, flicking my eyes across everything

  before I even try to follow. Wind flows in front of me, helping push

  away the debris as I pace around the perimeter.

  “Is this sort of change normal? Does this... mean anything? Um.”

  The entry point for the next layer has to be somewhere, obviously. If

  I concentrate, I can feel the tug on my soul, a slight change in

  Delve pressure that indicates it’s close by. In the chapel, almost

  certainly. But where?

  I check back through the door. Looks to be the same, so we’re not

  dealing with that kind of World-bending.

  “Ivy?”

  “Found the entry point?” I call back, crouched down to prod at a

  few loose stones in the floor. Could be a basement situation.

  “This mural, Ivy. Um, could you take a look?”

  Catching the confusion in her tone, I stand up and look in her

  direction. She’s staring at the mural with a scrunched-up

  expression, like she’s trying to untangle a knot or unstick two

  pages in a book. And, now that I’m actually looking at the contents

  of the mural, I can’t say I blame her.

  The Hero, bleeding freely, reaching down to offer the Emperor a hand.

  The Emperor’s talons are outstretched, possibly in response, and

  their weapons lay beside them. Mortal enemies helping one another, in

  defiance of every legend.

  “Oh, yeah.” I shrug. “That happens in Delves. Art gets weird.”

  Helena turns to look at me. She opens her mouth, closes it, throws

  her arms up in exasperation. “That’s not , Ivy. It’s,

  it’s. Impossible! Heretical! Implying the Hero would work with the

  cruelest tyrant in history!”

  A laugh bubbles out of my throat in response, and I flash her a

  toothy grin. “We just climbed up a sideways town while fighting

  wood rats and seagulls made of seashells. Nothing is normal in

  Delves, Helena, that’s half the fun.”

  I get a stiff giggle out of Helena for that one. “This is fun for

  you?”

  I think about it, then shrug. “Not looking for the entry point, no.

  But no two Delves are exactly the same, and that can be pretty fun.”

  I pace back across the floor, uncurling my tail but keeping it well

  above the ground. Glass everywhere, after all, and I don’t want my

  tail to sweep any shards back towards me.

  “Oh! Well, you can get to the fun things soon, Ivy!” Helena says

  with a bit of cheer, and I turn back around to look at her. She’s

  pointing to a window, now, fidgeting with her hair with her free

  hand. “Um, I think I found the entry point!”

  I look, I pause, and then I look again. There’s definitely no

  rolling hills outside the chapel, and I think I would’ve noticed a

  forest that close to the walls. But here they are, through the

  window. Through all the windows, actually.

  Oh, that makes sense, I guess. At least I don’t have to break any

  walls this time, just hop through a broken window.