We launch ourself at the beast, colliding with it in midair and crashing to the ground on the other side of Attiru. Glass screeches and the animal shrieks as we tumble across the stone. The animal is thrashing in our grip—twice our size, but less than half the weight of our glass. Claws and a beak slash at us, then a powerful kick punches right into our chest.

  Pain spikes through us, closely followed by panic, and we allow the creature to extricate itself from us as we shrink back, clutching at our chest. Bludgeoning damage statics through our mind.

  A knife finds itself in the animal’s neck a moment later, and the creature spasms before going limp.

  We tear open the front of our coat, and a handful of broken glass tinkles to the ground. The layer of glass over our core is jagged and shattered, but the glass underneath is undamaged. That was close. Too close.

  We push mana into the spell circle still painted over its surface, and the Durability spell activates. At the same time, we activate weaker Durability spells we made while working on Zyneth’s blade: they’re engraved in our legs, arms, and torso. Will all that be enough to save us if we get hit with another direct attack? We have to be careful in close combat. We’re still only made of glass.

  “Good god,” Attiru says, scrambling back, at the same time Zyneth asks, “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” we sign, finding it easier than trying to force our tangled thoughts into something the translator would recognize.

  “Head’s up,” Rezira calls. “Here they come.”

  We sprout limbs of void, glass filling them like bones, and top the ends with sharpened blades of glass. Zyneth steps on the creature’s neck and wrenches his knife from its corpse. We have about five seconds to take in the animal’s appearance.

  It’s part bird, part feline, with talons on its forepaws and claws on its back. Its head is equipped with a beak, and it has feathered wings sprouting from its back. We reach for Echo to Check it, but even without her confirmation, we recognize the creature as a griffin. Around us, maybe a dozen more are dashing through the grass. Now that their ambush has been spoiled, several have spread their wings, taking to the air.

  Rezira, Noli, and Zyneth press in closer around Attiru, who themself is weaponless. Several of the griffins vanish behind the stone slab floating overhead. We grab several of the vines hanging beneath the platform, using our limbs to pull ourself up, then swing up to the side of the stone and climb to its top.

  Two other griffins have already landed on the slab. Our first instinct is to attack, springing forward with limbs and claws bared, but the near miss with our core holds us back. Even at the thought, more glass and void shifts protectively into place over our chest. Not that it would do much good if one of those beaks makes a direct hit. Instead, we access our Inventory.

  At first, nothing happens. We push harder, reaching through the cloud that separates us from Echo and the System—then feel something click into place. The one object in our Inventory, a Chained ball of glass the size of a giant pumpkin, appears before us. We catch it with our void and keep it levitating in the air, beginning to break some of the Chains apart as we strip pieces of glass away to float like an asteroid field around its shrinking core.

  Uninterested in waiting for us to finish our preparations, the griffins attack.

  We fire off a dozen shards of glass, stabbing them toward the beasts. One of them presses flat against the stone, much like a cat; a piece punches a hole through its feathers, but it doesn’t even seem to notice. The other jumps into the air, skirting over most of our glass blades. The flying one reaches us first.

  It descends on us with its talons, and we stab a limb toward each of them, wrapping around its forelegs. Before it can pull away, we punch forward with the remaining sphere of glass. The griffin is ripped from our grasp as the cannonball blasts into its chest, then both bird and glass are rocketing away. Before we have a chance to recall the glass, the second griffin reaches us.

  We slash at it with a limb of glass and void, which the beast catches in its mouth. With a jolt of pain, the glass is crushed within its beak. We jerk the limb back, stabbing toward it with a Shade Scythe instead. The griffin screeches as we cut through its wing, then it catches our bladed attack with a claw and smashes it to the ground. More pain statics through the fractured glass, but we still use that limb to wrap around the ankle of the talons that have pinned us. It slashes at us with its other talon, which glances off our arm—then we have that one wrapped in a limb as well. Even so, it throws its weight forward, beak spearing toward us. We slash two more limbs from opposite sides toward its craning neck. The griffin’s beak lurches off course, clipping our shoulder. Then it slumps forward, the dead weight of the creature falling on top of us.

  We roll it to the side and crawl out from beneath it, pulling all of our thrown glass back toward us. Three more griffins are circling the platform above. We snap our void out, dozens of thin whips of darkness grabbing slivers of glass, then whirl in a tight circle. The glass and void tendrils follow, spinning around us like arms of a galaxy. The beasts reconsider landing on our stone, banking away and down, disappearing beneath instead. We experience a disorienting clash of satisfaction—good! They should flee before us—and dread. All we accomplished was redirecting the animals toward our friends.

  We still have seeing glass spread around the square beneath us, so even as we rush to the edge, we’re already watching what’s happening below. Zyneth has both blades drawn, Noli has loosed all her arrows and now wields a hunting knife; Attiru and Rezira are defenseless, though the latter has both hands curled into fists. Six more griffins have surrounded them.

  We jump off the platform and grab several vines as we fall, using them to swing down and launch ourself at the nearest griffin. The beast darts toward Noli at the same moment, and we almost miss it. We throw a limb forward and grab it around the neck, using the leverage to pull the rest of us toward it. We land on its back, crushing it into the ground. Zyneth glances our way at the surprise attack; a griffin behind him uses the opportunity to bolt toward him.

  We aren’t close enough. So we grab the piece of Attuned glass closest to the beast and stab it toward the griffin. As it turns out, this is Zyneth’s knife.

  The blade is wrenched from his grasp to spin around and fly behind him. He whirls in surprise, witnessing the moment his blade embeds itself in the griffin’s chest. We wrench it free, then send back to him, tossing the blade at his feet; we’re too distracted by the rest of the fight to carefully set it back in his hands. Our attention is already elsewhere and everywhere; tracking each beast, judging which one is closest to who, which ally needs protecting next.

  “Thanks for the assist,” Zyneth says, snatching up his knife once more.

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  The griffins now hang back, snapping at the air and pawing in irritation at the ground. We circle around our team, coming to a stop with our back to Rezira and Attiru, placing them at the center of a triangle between us, Zyneth, and Noli.

  “We’re in their territory,” Noli signs, keeping a side eye on the nearest griffin as she half turns our way. Zyneth’s back is to us, so Rezira quickly relays the message. “There might be a nest nearby. We need to get out of here, or they won’t stop.”

  “Are there any more above?” Zyneth asks us.

  “No,” we sign.

  “And which direction were they coming from?”

  We point.

  “That’s back in the direction we’ve come.” Zyneth nods ahead of us. “Then we should ascend to the next level. That will likely be seen as separate territory, right?”

  Noli doesn’t look convinced. “Hopefully. But you’re right that we can’t go back or stay here. We should—”

  Rezira doesn’t have a chance to start interpreting these last few words as another griffin darts in. We jerk our glass mace to the side, and it swings past the griffin’s beak, only missing because the creature had the good sense to lurch back.

  “Let’s just go,” Attiru says. “My spell is done. I don’t care which way as long as we get out of here!”

  “What about our supplies?” Rezira asks.

  Everyone’s bags are scattered around the square from where they’d been set down while we were taking a break. We are briefly annoyed by the question. Things are things. They are inconsequential!

  But we don’t need things to live. We don’t need food or water or shelter. The others do. She’s right; we can’t leave all our belongings behind.

  “We will get them,” we tell the others.

  Before anyone has a chance to reply, we lash a Void Whip out toward each of the bags, grabbing them all at once. This startles our friends as much as it startles the griffins. We yank back on our void, flinging the bags toward us. A few of the griffins pounce, like cats after a toy, but most of them aren’t quick enough. One manages to snag Zyneth’s bag, its claws digging into the fabric. We launch our wrecking ball of glass at this one, and it releases his satchel with a squawk.

  Everyone grabs their supplies, quickly slinging their bags on. Zyneth’s is ripped, three long grooves carved across the back, but it’s still holding together.

  “Sorry,” we say.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he tells us. “I’ll clear a path.” He points with his blade in the direction we’re headed, and Noli nods; there are two griffins before us. “Noli, can you cover the rear?”

  “No,” we sign. “We will.”

  A conflicted expression passes over his face. The hesitation only lasts a moment. “Okay. Everyone ready, then? Let’s go.”

  He sheaths his obsidian knife. Lightning crackles down the length of his other blade, and yellow light pools in his empty hand. Then, he dashes forward.

  One of the griffins meets his challenge, leaping at him with talons spread. Zyneth turns his palm toward it, and a bolt of lightning jumps from his hand, striking the beast in its chest. It crumples. He throws his dagger at the other, and though he only catches it in the shoulder, electricity from the sparking blade zaps through the griffin’s frame, and it too goes down. Zyneth runs past, grabbing his knife as he goes. The others race after him.

  As soon as they bolt, the remaining griffins give chase. We understand; it’s instincts. So it thrills us, too, to target them. We grab all the glass suspended in the area and pull the pieces in tight, swirling them into a jagged ring around us. The orbiting glass clips the wing of the nearest griffin, and it skirts away with a startled screech. The other two jump into the sky and out of our range. Well, they must think they’re out of our range. We keep our glass close, threads of void connecting every piece in an intricate web, as we guard the back of our pack.

  Zyneth is cutting through the tall grass—literally slashing at the stalks as he carves a path for the others to follow. The field ends with a series of boulders that rise into the air above us, creating vertical stepping stones to the next level of the Isles. We are beginning to think this is a bad idea. While the others scale the rocks, their backs will be exposed to the griffins. It will be a perilous climb. Yet, we see little other options.

  Aside from taking the threats out, now.

  As we run, we reform our glass. The pieces fit together like a puzzle overhead, forming into a shallow bowl. We funnel our magic through the structure.

  [...ght Beam activa…]

  Light explodes from our glass and blasts into one of the griffins circling overhead. It’s so sudden and violent, Attiru and Noli both stumble, looking to the sky in surprise. It even surprised us a little bit. We haven’t used one of these offensively in a while—at least not since increasing our mana pool this high, and gaining the boost from Arcane Guardian.

  Thrill ripples through us—along with a distant, echoing nostalgia. We like being powerful. It has been a long time since we carried such potential for destruction. We had nearly forgotten what it felt like. Relishing the sensation, we let loose another beam, blasting a second griffin from—

  —In an old memory, our perspective shifts. We’re higher up. Much, much higher. The stone foundations are fully formed buildings. The streets are not overgrown with greenery, but rather clean, manicured, and teeming with motion. The scattered pieces of a great statue have reassembled themselves into something whole and standing. Yet, the statue is not so great, is it? It’s small. Very small. We reach down, and even that simple gesture causes—

  —the sky and sending it crashing to the ground.

  We miss a step, startled, and nearly go down. Where did that memory come from? We were here before? How? When? We search for the memory again, but it’s already submerged back into the fathomless depth of our subconscious.

  Disquiet fills us. We’d experienced something like this before, at Emrox. Both Ruins. It’s a pattern. But what does it mean?

  “..anin. Kanin! Watch out!”

  We whip our glass toward the griffin that’s diving toward us, firing our Light Beam at it as well. We keep it trained on the threat until it plummets from the sky, and even then we don’t stop. Alarm churns within us. Whether our concern is over the memory, or the griffin, it’s unclear. They bleed into each other. But this threat, at least, can be neutralized.

  That’s enough.

  We continue to pour mana into the light beam, anxiety churning within us. We have to make sure we’ve won—

  That’s enough!

  The light flickers out as we cut off the spell: it nearly drained all our mana. We won’t be able to do an attack like that again anytime soon. But it’s hard to feel concerned about that when we’re still trying to sort through our mental turmoil.

  No time. We can worry about the memory later. Right now, we need to focus. We’re still in the middle of a fight.

  The others have made it to the first stepping stones. We hang back and look out over the field, counting the approaching threats. More griffins have since appeared, their silhouettes flecking the sky. A dozen maybe. We’re right back where we started. And how many more are still to come? The others will need to climb quickly. But we are the only one who is capable of watching our back while we climb.

  Zyneth is already halfway up, jumping from stone to stone as easily as crossing a river. Noli, too, doesn’t seem to find the terrain much trouble. Rezira is strong, but picking her way slowly and carefully. Attiru…

  We spring up to the first rock, which bobs under our weight. The vines that keep it anchored to the other rocks stop it from drifting far. Then we leap to the next, and the next. In a matter of seconds, we’ve passed Rezira and caught up with Attiru. They glance our way as we land on their stone, fear clear on their face. We reach a limb out, and they flinch.

  “Up,” we force out, the sound coming garbled through our translator. “Faster.”

  “I’m trying,” they say.

  We don’t have time to explain more. We wrap one of our limbs around their torso, and they let out a nervous squeak. Then we leap to the next boulder, and pull them along with us.

  Attiru grips our limb, their fingers squeezing around our joints of glass and digging into our void. They’re heavy, and it’s hard to leverage them up, but locking our joints in place and solidifying the limb into one stationary arm helps us levitate the glass and carry their weight. We don’t think we would have been able to manage anyone bigger.

  We pass Noli, and a few moments later Zyneth, arriving at the top of the climb. Loosening our glass and void, we dump Attiru onto the ground.

  “Um, thank—”

  We leap back down; the griffins are nearly on top of us.

  Pausing between Noli and Zyneth, we fling all of our glass shards out, driving back two griffins with angry squawks. We swirl the glass in the air before us, which glints in the sunlight like an angry swarm of wasps. The beasts bank away, giving our glass a wide berth. Zyneth reaches the top, then holds a hand back down to help Noli, too. She takes it, but hesitates, turning back to look below.

  Rezira.

  She’s been separated from the pack. Zeroing in on the easiest prey, the griffins turn their focus on her.

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