Stone, brass, and broken gss give way to bark, soil, and spotted shadows. The window exits between two tall pines at the edge of a grassy gde, and I reach back into the chapel to pull Helena through.

  Her fingers tch onto my arm, hands curling around like I'm a particurly thick piece of rope. She's light enough that I can just pull her straight up to standing, but I do have to step back so she doesn't pnt her boots on mine. My tail lifts, too, so it doesn't become a tripping hazard.

  Against all odds, she manages to pnt her boots right on mine anyways, and needs to use my arm as a brace. I suppose it's a little te to ask her not to step on any toes... heh.

  I stifle a chuckle, shaking my head. Focus, Ivy!

  Helena's hands slide off me, and she back away to massage her arms. "More, um, pressure,” she expins, wincing. "It feels like I'm being squeezed by, by a thick bnket..."

  I nod, doing my best to look sympathetic; I can’t really tell the difference between one hundred and two hundred without concentrating. Still, I lean in a bit to take a look at her. Tails make for great counterweights.

  "Do you feel any different? Soreness on parts of the body, pain in pces that don't exist, and so on? I don't see anything." I say, meeting her eyes. The irises are closer to turquoise, now, shimmering slightly in the light filtering between the trees.

  "Your eyes have changed a bit more, though." I add, looking away.

  Helena's lips curl. She pats herself down, muttering, and then shakes her head. "No, nothing. That, um. I don't think I'm ready to re-tailor my own clothes, so that's a good thing. H-ha. Oh! Right. Crystal formation starts on the second yer, doesn't it?"

  She gnces about, eyes flitting around the grove.

  "Technically, it starts at two hundred marches of depth," I say, though she doesn't really react. Prodding at my magic a bit, I shrug. "The second yer usually is deep enough, though, so-"

  And just like that, she's off. She flits over to the trees, poking at the bark and running her hands along the branches. I follow along at a more leisurely pace, taking in the sights and sounds.

  They're ordinary, for a leafy forest. Birds chirp in the distance, leaves py in a gentle wind, the soft soil rustles with each footstep. Despite the ck of the Sun, the shadows are long and dark like those of a summer afternoon.

  My Delver's instincts come to the fore, next. Those birds could be monsters, if they aren't sourceless noise. Wind has to come from somewhere, it could be important. The soil has too many distinct leaves in it for summer, and not enough for autumn.

  And those shadows...

  I'm vindicated when Helena strides right into one, vanishing as if she'd stepped through pitch-bck ink.

  Before I can really worry, though, she steps back through the shadows holding a crystalline leaf, glittering dully in the dappled light. She’s holding it delicately, carefully; probably wise, with a thin Wind crystal like that.

  “Fascinating!” Helena beams, running her fingers across the crystal. A weak Wind swirls around her hand, glowing a faint green. “I saw it growing on a low-hanging branch. Low quality, but even those cost way too much for me, usually!”

  “By all means, take ‘em.” I shrug, smiling as her enthusiasm starts to infect me, too. “Stick close, got it? Those shadows get unnaturally dark between the trees, so if you get lost... there’s no telling what could happen.”

  Helena hums, turning the leaf over in her hands. She isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings— this is why I don’t like working with rookies and novices. “This should work perfectly! I can—”

  “Helena.” I growl, stepping close enough to hear her breathing hitch. My tail strikes against the ground, drawing a furrow in the soft soil. “Stick close, got it?”

  She slips the crystal leaf into a pouch, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Um. Sorry, sorry. Yes, I’ll stick close.”

  I sigh, moving away and doing my best not to grimace. Running a hand through my hair, I say, “You’re excited; that’s fine. More than fine, actually. Just be sensible.”

  Helena fidgets with her hands, flushing. “Ah. Thanks. Ah, Priest Dongbaek and my church family think this is too dangerous. I’m just excited to actually be in a Delve, and, and, it’ll help me become a mage!”

  There it is again. She’s called the Restoration Church her family before. Family isn’t really something I think about all that often.

  “Dangerous is right,” I agree, nodding towards the trees, “I’d put a few gold on this being where the wooden wolves came from. Tough for second-yer monsters, but I can handle them.”

  “But not too dangerous! How else am I going to learn, if I can’t afford an apprenticeship?” Helena says, a bit indignant. “And, um, how do you know which way is the right way to go?”

  “Expert Delvers can sense the minor changes in depth and use that for orientation. I can sort of do that, but it depends on if this is actually a traversable forest, or a bunch of groves connected the same way the chapel window linked to the trees. Speaking of...”

  Striding back towards our entrance, I push magic into my hands to call up my cws. I cut a quick X on both trees, imbuing the motion with the faintest hint of Lightning to darken the mark. “There, just in case. I’ll do that as we go, too.”

  “Oh! Good idea. And... um, are you saying we should triangute the location? Fascinating! How would you keep a heading, then?”

  An early skill for Delvers is orienteering. And, shortly after, Delve orienteering, because sometimes a yer entrance isn’t obvious. They don't like giving out hints, either.

  “Generally, an actual compass, and I don’t think we’ll need to triangute. We aren’t deep enough for it to be too complicated.” I say, patting myself down. Chest pocket, no, I would’ve felt that when I changed. Check anyways. Pant pockets, no, these are regur pants and I am not free from the curse of pocketless womens' pants. Tailors are a menace. “Where did I—”

  Helena giggles a bit. Ah, so I’ve done something foolish or funny. At least it gets a good reaction?

  She reaches into her bag and tosses the compass at me underhand. “You put it in there when we were preparing, Ivy.”

  I snatch it out of the air with a sigh, offering an embarrassed smile in return. I guess rushing to Delve is making me a bit scattered. “Apparently not! Anyways, navigation. This is mostly in case we need to get around an object, and don’t have time for me to orient myself by sensing Depth. That takes a bit. So, watch me while I do this? I need to focus.”

  “Um, of course!”

  I can manage it on my own, and do so safely. I frequently do. But here’s Helena, an apprentice mage with excellent control, so I can risk closing my eyes and pushing away my senses for a minute. Plus, I doubt anything native to the second yer can actually hurt me.

  With my eyes closed, I take a long, steadying breath. “I just need to sense where downhill is, Delvewise. There’s a term for them—”

  “Abstract depth gradients?”

  “—but that sounds dumb, so I call it Delve down,” I finish with a huff. I nod in Helena’s direction without opening my eyes. Is my soul getting tugged more in, uh, no, not that direction. A little bit more to the left? “Whatever you call it, it’s not easy. It’s like trying to find a... I don’t have a good comparison here.”

  I’m hardly a poet or a writer, despite the best attempts of my father. Pretty words, eh.

  I wave it off, frowning as I force my focus further inward. There’s the ripple of Helena’s Wind magic as she toys with some leaves, there’s the tug of the World, and there is Delve down. It’s far off, if the gentle slope is anything to go by.

  Something brushes my natural senses. An odd noise, barely audible; the faintest hints of a strange scent. Maybe it’s nothing, sure, but you don’t stay in this job long if you’re not a little paranoid.

  My eyes snap open, tail shing behind me. I adjust the dial on the compass, carefully twisting the point to line up with Delve down, and twist the second dial to mark where North was when I set the direction.

  “So, Helena,” I say finally, checking the compass heading before looking up to make eye contact with her. “Looks like we’re heading sixty... four, degrees off North, pretty close to East-North-East of whatever North is here. Let’s get going.”

  She pushes a few stray waves of hair out of her face and nods, banishing her Wind magic with the other hand. “It’s no, um, I’m gd to watch out for you. I’m sure we’d be safe, between your strength, my spells, and the enchanted clothes, but it’s important to be careful!”

  I arch an eyebrow, striding past her and to the edge of the gde, letting my tail drag through the low grass. “There is no safe in Delves, Helena. If we can go down, monsters can come up, got it?”

  Helena mutters something about it being statistically unlikely. I remember that book too; it’s practically required reading for Delvers.

  Correcting her, I decide, isn’t worth it. She’ll learn, and ideally, she’ll stick around a bit longer.

  Without comment, I check to see she’s following, then pass through the trees— into the strange shadows, and into the forest itself. Despite it all, I’m feeling the thrum of excitement edging in. There’s something waiting for us, and I’d love to hit something substantial.

  Though, that’s inviting camity, isn’t it? Feh. Nevermind.

  The shadows, as it turns out, are another strange but harmless abstraction. Dark, sometimes impenetrable, but not hiding any strange portals or bending space in impossible ways. No risk of getting horribly lost by way of impusible geometries.

  It’s kind of disappointing. Safer for the both of us, though, and quite useful.

  I'm peering out from one of those impossible shadows, arm stuck out in front of Helena in a silent gesture to hold. Wind swirls around her hands, sharp and gleaming; the feel of it is so faint, so tightly held that I can barely sense it.

  I know that if I gnce over at her, I'll see her eyes glittering with anticipation and steely focus. She’s fallen into the rhythm of hunting with surprising ease: slinging spells at wooden wolves, slinking from shadow to shadow, and hanging back while I finish the job. We’ve hunted three so far, all of them wandering alone, and this one will make our fourth.

  Our target stalks through a small clearing, silent save for the faint creaking of wooden joints. It swings its head from side to side, scanning its surroundings and sniffing at the air. Its head turns towards us, tilting, and I hold my breath.

  Helena twitches, her shoulder brushing my side. I flex my hand again to remind her: hold.

  Wooden eyes stare sightlessly into the shadows. I stare back, answering some urge bubbling up from deep within.

  So we wait.

  And wait.

  The monster turns away.

  I exhale softly, wincing as Helena’s own attempt stutters and rasps. It looks like the monster didn’t hear, fortunately. I allow myself to smile, just a bit, and clench my hand. Ready.

  Helena brings her hands together, cpping loudly, and the greenish light of Wind turns silver. My legs tense, and I step forward, cws at the ready. Her palms slide against each other.

  For a heartbeat, the air bends, curving the world around it like thick gss. Our eyes meet, and she nods imperceptibly. The bent air slices forwards, a half-crescent of Wind followed by the ear-stinging noise of a whip crack.

  I lunge after it, pushing a bit of my own Wind into my legs to try and keep up. It’s not a one-two punch unless the hits come quickly, after all.

  Punch one happens when the ‘bde’ of air crashes into the monster, carving a hunk of wood from a rear leg and scattering splinters everywhere. The monster snarls, stumbling and twisting to face this new threat...

  And, now that it’s off bance, I come in with punch two. One of my cws digs into the monster’s neck as it loses its footing, yanking upwards in a Wind-boosted grab that lets me lift and sm it into a tree. Bark joins the splinters on the forest floor, and I wrap my other hand around the monster’s snout before it can bite at me. My palm cups its chin, and my fingers sting under the strain of holding the damned thing in pce.

  Its cws scrabble in the air uselessly, filing and barely managing to scrape at my clothes. Helena’s enchantments are holding up pretty well, it seems.

  This little trick took a few tries, but I think I have it down now. My shoulder will ache tomorrow though, more than the rest of me will.

  I use my underhand grip to pull the monster’s head to one side, turning it bit by bit, pushing once its head has turned far enough—

  Its neck creaks like a thick branch in a storm, and then snaps like one, too.

  And that’s punch three.

  Dropping the wolf to the ground, I check my hands for splinters, and use the splinter-free one to rub my chin. Wouldn’t it be a one-two-three punch, then? I mean, none of them are actually punches, but most one-two punches in fighting aren’t actually punches, even for me.

  “Ah, Ivy?”

  I blink, changing tracks. “No three. One-two punch sounds better. Yeah?”

  Helena gives me a strange, baffled look, then visibly shakes it off. “Um. What? I, are you okay? It looked like it got a few swipes at you, I was worried your clothes might be damaged.”

  Oh, whoops. I said that out loud. Looking down to hide the heat on my cheeks, I do a full pat-down to make sure everything’s where it should be. “I’m fine, thanks. The enchantments have been working just fine, and I appreciate not having to waste magic healing bruises... or money, repcing my nice clothes. Trousers with tail-holes don't come cheap.”

  I pause, running a bit of raw magic through my cw-tips and tugging at my blouse’s colr. The enchantment hums in response, softly and a bit chaotically. “But, you might need to redo them. Enchantments without a base substance don’t stick around for too long, do they?”

  Helena murmurs something in response, too quiet for me to catch. I see her boots pace back and forth, but I only look up again once I’m sure the blush is gone. Our eyes meet for a second before she walks up beside me, dropping into a crouch.

  “They should hold for another two hours. Three, maybe. Is, um, is that enough time? I could refresh them, but I don’t...” She gestures at her chest, using her other hand to very carefully prod at the chunks of wood that were formerly a monster. “I don’t have enough mana for that. The Delve is refreshing me faster, but not fast enough. Hm.”

  I mentally tally up everything she’s done, doing some quick mental calcutions. Unless you’re talking Alchemy or Runes, magic isn’t done in discrete enough units for anything more than scrap-paper mathematics— but those are more than enough for me to make some estimates. And, quite honestly, I don’t like them very much.

  Setting that math aside, I run some estimates on our travel. An hour so far, and the snt of the Delve is increasing

  With Adamantine as my witness, I thought the Restoration Church would actually be smarter than to leave a potential Mage completely undeveloped. I know Gods-damned well they have books on the subject, given they took most of them from my family’s section of the archives. It’s one thing to encourage someone to not be a Mage, and another to let them bumble about and risk burning up their soul trying to light a candle.

  I wonder what they did with the books, then?

  Whatever the case, I keep my thoughts to myself. I cross my arms, leaning my shoulder against a nearby tree while I watch Helena. The woman in question is delicately turning the head over with a stick she’s found, peering over the stumps.

  “I know it’s rare, but these monsters do seem tough enough that, um, they might have a crystal we can use? The ones inside monsters are amazing for setting physical enchantments.”

  “You're very well read, huh,” I say the obvious, snorting. My tail curls, swinging in the air before it tches onto the tree next to me. “These things? Tough, but nothing special. Shallow-water predators, I guess. There's far worse monsters out there, and they're the kind you'd expect to find crystals in.”

  “Aw,” Helena says quietly. I don't think I was supposed to hear that. She stands up from her squat, wincing and groaning as she does. “That's unfortunate. We'll just have to finish before the enchantments run out, right?”

  She fshes me a hesitant smile, and I reply with a shrug. Rushing isn't particurly safe, but the enchantments...

  Huh. I guess Helena's put us on a time limit, intentionally or not. I don't like that at all, but I did let her talk me into this.

  Not a productive path of thought, it's not like I could back out now. I switch paths, gesturing forward and onward. “Let's get going then. Keep your ears and eyes trained on our surroundings, got it?”

  Helena nods dutifully, dusting herself off. “Of course. Onward!”

  Onward ends up being quite boring. We kill one or two more wolves, one of which Helena manages to almost decapitate with her initial hit. Brief bursts of happening breaking up long, awkward silences. Helena seems to be feeling it too: muttering to herself, meddling with small spell structures, and occasionally dragging up dead leaves with her Wind.

  Curiosity sparks. An un-apprenticed mage, entirely untrained but still well-read. Ambitious and fiery, too. Her control of the leaves is pretty impressive, and those spells she's been tossing out are made well. I don’t really know the whole story, though. Maybe it’s time to ask, if only to fill the silence.

  And, Gods, I'm going to get bored if I don't say something.

  I clear my throat, and it rumbles out like a growl. “Helena.”

  “Yes?” Helena's reply is instant. Her eyes gnce up to mine, even as her hand toys with Wind. A leaf escapes her magic's grip, fluttering in the air.

  “You're part of the Restoration Church,” I prompt, surprising myself a bit. I morph that feeling into a lopsided grin. “I don't actually know how it all works there. What do you get up to? How do you, uh, worship?”

  “Oh! Yes! I’d love to. Um.” Helena smiles, nodding vigorously. The rest of her leaves flutter and droop, some drifting close enough that I try to jab them with my tail. “And you're... a lot of Delvers follow the Wanderer, right? Mireise? They don't have a formal church, so... I bet it's quite different! Oh, where do I start?”

  She hums, toying with a lock of hair.

  Oh, that pronunciation brings back memories. I chuckle a bit, shaking my head. “Mir as in Mirror, followed by ice, not Me-rice. My Delve masters were emphatic about that. And no, I don't follow the Wanderer. I follow Adamantine, though, so I have about the same experience with formal worship.”

  My parents would attend Restoration events constantly. Olivia and I never went along— maybe we would've been clued in to my parents' pns earlier if we did, but I can't exactly change the past.

  Helena curls some hair around her finger, brow furrowed. “The Sun Regent? Hm,” she murmurs, “Where do I start...”

  I could wait. It wouldn’t be that bad. But why not have a proper conversation?

  “I can go while you think. Mind your head,” I warn, ducking under a particurly low-hanging branch. The fringes of the leaves— which are a close but weirdly smudged match for maple leaves, interestingly— are curled in, shifting from green to vivid reds and oranges.

  Bit weird for leaves to be this low, and the colors are definitely worth noting. Oh, right, I was saying something.

  "It's not very interesting, though," I admit, rubbing the back of my head with one hand. Adamantine has my faith, but she isn't a very demanding goddess. "I wanted a distraction between wolf kills, but this might be too boring.”

  I turn and meet Helena's wide eyes, gleaming with excitement. Her smile seems to be spreading onto my face, too.

  "No, no." She says, brown hair flying as she shakes her head. "The Church of Adamantine? I know nothing about it! So, yes, please tell me?"

  I’m taken aback by her enthusiasm, and it takes me a second to shake free of it. The fervor of born schors is ridiculous.

  Where to start... oh, Gods, now I’m doing it too. I’ll go for the semantics first.

  “Adamantine doesn’t have an, uh, organized church, you know? It’s all independent, linked up and supervised by padins, but not much more than that. So how we worship changes from pce to pce,” I say, pausing for breath. It’s weird to talk about this stuff, for some reason, and it’s making me feel awkward.

  Moreso when I realize this is entirely my fault, since I started it. Oops.

  “I’m not a padin, and I’m not a member of any specific church. I don’t really worship, either, so much as...” I wave a hand through the air, trying to hide the awkward vulnerability that I'm suddenly feeling. “Justice is important, and injustice can't be left around to rot. I like Delving, and it keeps people safe from monsters, so that's my pce in things.”

  “So that’s why you hate the Restoration, then? Because you think we’re unjust?”

  I turn my head, freezing her with a one-eyed stare before I can catch myself. It’s a visceral thing, a gut reaction that has my tail whipping across the ground. Practically instinctual, and I feel only a dreg of guilt.

  Helena looks away, eyes trained on the ground.

  “I don’t think you’re wrong to ask.” I shrug with more ease than I feel. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “It’s not like you’re going to, um, hurt me. You only really got mad when you thought I was invading your home, right?” Helena’s reply is equally blunt, equally honest.

  I huff in response. “Home invasion is unjust, usually. Water under the bridge. Tell me about the Restoration Church, if you’ve worked out what you want to say?”

  She says something, but I don’t hear it. My instincts spin like a compass near a lodestone, swirling and sharpening around a handful of cues.

  The ground shakes. The Delve deepens, just a hair. The wind shifts, the light dims, and a low sound scratches at my ears.

  And then... nothing. I keep my eyes scanning the surroundings, but I open myself up enough to catch what Helena is saying. It’d be rude to ignore her.

  “...helping them, um, raise funds and distribute food. It’s an important part of the Restoration’s goals to, ah,” she hesitates, and I pick up immediately.

  “Charity work, then. So what’s your part in that?” I nod along. “Everywhere I’ve seen the Restoration, you’re running way-stations or growing gardens.”

  Never really understood the purple robes. They seem terrible for all the very literally dirty work members seem to get up to.

  “I. Ah. I sew. For my family. Priest Dongbaek assigned me as a clothier and tailor, because that’s the skill that most benefits the whole family.” The word sew is bitten out, hissing and crisp. Her hands clench, and a fsh of anger crosses her features before vanishing entirely. “It’s what I’m best at, after all. And, um, when we all work together, we can make Craumont a better pce, right? A safer one, too.”

  They’d wanted my nd. My parents had willed it to them, and everything else. No doubt to build a shelter for the ill and the homeless, or feed those who weren’t paid enough by businesses that should know better. That’s what I’d stopped, hadn’t I?

  Looks like they weren’t so kind to their own, either. At least, the ones that don’t fit in. Or maybe I’m overthinking it, and Helena is as rebellious with them as she is with me. That’d probably get on their nerves after a while, when ‘ambition’ starts to sound more like madcap schemes.

  “To fill the gaps in the community, huh?” I can’t help but chuckle, even knowing it’s rude. “That’s a bit pretentious.”

  Helena huffs. “You’re right, but I don’t, ah. That’s not a very nice way to say it.”

  So much for a nice conversation. I’d gone and ruined it. My tail digs itself into the ground, scraping along and digging a satisfying furrow. “Yeah, sorry.”

  A pause.

  “We did pass the time, though.” Helena says awkwardly, “Even if, um, it wasn't a great topic. But I learned something!”

  “It was a bad topic, wasn't it? Gods, what was I thinking? Maybe after a few gsses of wine, sure, but in a Delve, on high alert...” I run a hand through my hair, and Helena hums in agreement. I'm not sure if that's rude or just pin honest.

  We walk in silence for a few minutes. I’m not sure of what to say, and Helena clearly doesn’t know what to say either. I absently wish for a distraction, and then regret that instantly. No, Ivy! Don’t ask for that in a Delve, it always—

  The world tenses around us, and I act on instinct. My arm shoots out, wrapping itself around Helena’s waist, my tail curls around her defensively, and I drag us deep into the darkest shadow I can find.

  Her squeak is drowned out when the breeze raises to a howl, drowning out all noise and thought. Sticks and leaves dash through the air, cttering against us. I pull Helena closer to my chest. She’s far too squishy, after all.

  The light dims. The sunless sky shifts towards the afternoon, and the air smells of ochre and fresh-dead leaves. Helena says something, and I only know it because I feel the vibrations of her voice against my chest. Sound is meaningless, caught and stolen away in the roaring gale.

  And, thank the Gods, it ends as suddenly as it began. All-consuming wind is repced with a dead silence I can hear my own heartbeat in.

  I let out a sigh of relief, breaking the silence, and Helena’s own sigh comes not long after. That would’ve been awful to try and push through, I’m certain. We would arrive at the yer transition battered and bruised, to say nothing of the challenge fighting in the wind would bring. At least the monsters would have trouble too... hopefully.

  Oh, and Helena’s still pinned to my chest. She’s squirming, too, and— well, it feels weird. Kinda tickles. I let her go with a mumbled apology, and she replies with equally quiet acceptance.

  Her face is nearly as red as the leaves, actually.

  Wait, what?

  “The leaves! Oh, this is fascinating!” Helena excims, mirroring my own thoughts. Her eyes are gleaming with that inner fire again, and she’s craning her neck to look at the tree canopy.

  A tree canopy of brilliant reds, searing oranges, and muted browns, all glowing in the afternoon light. Each tree is like a slow-moving fme, rippling gently in a woody, earthy breeze.

  “Delves are weird,” I pronounce, snatching a red leaf from the air as it flutters down. I turn it over, inspecting it carefully. Seems normal, no teeth, doesn’t seem to be made of metal or coated in acid... it’s always important to be careful with Delves.

  It’s also beautiful to look at.

  “Gods, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” I admit, chuckling. The bubbly sensation fills my chest before I tamp it down, and I spread my arms, curling my tail around one leg. “Much better scenery to travel to. But if the forest can turn from summer to autumn, I’d hazard that it’ll be winter eventually. And I do not want to be here for that.”

  Scales do not handle the cold very well. I can keep myself warm by circuting magic throughout my body, but that leaves me hungry, cranky, and stiff. No thank you, I’m already going to be cranky from healing all the scratches I keep getting.

  Helena winces, inspecting her own gear. “We’re not dressed for it at all. Yes, um, let’s get going!”

  “Yes, let’s.” I pause, then groan as she starts to run. “Helena! Slow down! You don’t even know where we’re going!”

  Her blush is rather amusing, though.