"AAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" The bloodcurdling scream continues to ring out, rising in volume with each passing second.

  Several tentacles shoot up from my back, terror flooding my entire body. Every nerve screams, drowning out most of the thoughts in my head.

  I turn to Mary, pointing at the woman.

  "Stay here," I say, sprinting toward the scream. "I will be right back."

  "Wait, Beatrice!" Mary calls from behind me. "Hold on! We—"

  Before Mary can finish, I hurl several tentacles toward a nearby tree.

  'Puak!'

  The tentacles strike against the tree's bark, stabbing deeply into it. Harshly yanking them down, I use the force to launch myself into the air.

  I soar through the air, occasionally pushing myself higher by jumping from tree to tree with the tentacles’ help.

  My mind is whirling with thoughts—each one barely more than a tangle of confusing feelings.

  A part of me, the only one that seems to make any sense through this mess, is chastising me for rushing in without a plan. Even so, I continue forward, urged on by something unexplainable gnawing at the back of my mind.

  By the time I reach the place where the scream came from, it has already died down. Despite this, my body continues to move on its own, as if it knows something I don’t.

  Landing on a tree where the branch meets the trunk, I slowly rise to my feet.

  Several tentacles curl around any surface they can find, anchoring me as I peer through the tree’s leaves.

  Through the little patches of leaves, I can see a mostly empty field ahead, dotted with marshy pools of muddy water.

  All around it are bushes with wildly long leaves, making it difficult to clearly see what’s happening below.

  Slowly narrowing my eyes, I chew on the bottom of my lip.

  There doesn’t seem to be anything here… Why was my body suddenly drawn to this—

  Cutting off the rest of my thoughts, I spot a flash of movement somewhere in the bushes.

  Quickly crouching low to the ground, I hold my breath as whatever is in the bush begins to stand.

  Several tentacles lie flat against my back, still as statues.

  "Finally," I hear a voice say from the bushes. "It’s finally done."

  Freezing, I slowly blink and replay the words. Giving a tentacle a glance, I then turn my attention back to the man.

  …Wait a second. I’m not actually hearing him—not from this distance. This is the tentacles translating his words directly into my head.

  A man slowly rises from the bushes, his back to me.

  With the distance between us, I can barely make out much about him—aside from the strange top hat perched on his head.

  Raising an eyebrown, I tilt my head slightly to one side.

  A top hat? That’s an interesting choice for scavenging through a dungeon-like swamp.

  Looking off to the side, I begin searching for a way down, my eyes scanning the tree’s branches for any potential footholds.

  …I should probably get out of here. Something tells me he’s… eccentric. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from rolling through the dirt all these past years as a porter, it’s this: never mess with crazy.

  The man suddenly lets out a bark of laughter, throwing his arms above his head.

  "Yes, yes!" he cries out. "Finally! This is what I’ve been waiting for!"

  Staring at the scene with half-lidded eyes, I slowly blink.

  Yep. That’s my cue to book it out of here. No need to stick my nose in that mess.

  As if agreeing with me, the tentacles release a pulse of acknowledgment. Some of them are already curling around the branches below me, ready to help me down.

  Just as I’m about to slink away, something suddenly catches my eye.

  A tentacle—protruding from the man’s back—comes into view.

  Immediately, a flood of warnings and alerts pulses through the bond.

  The man’s tentacle is abnormally thin, almost like a dried-up husk. Scarlet-red blood drips from every pore, gushing like a river.

  Ignoring the protests—horror, anger, and countless other emotions—from my own tentacles, I narrow my eyes as the man suddenly lifts one of his hands.

  In that hand, I see something wiggling frantically, as if trying to escape his grip.

  From the bond, the tentacles unleash a barrage of confusing pulses. The only emotion I can clearly grasp is pure, unmistakable horror.

  Before I can even process what’s happening, a force slams into the front of my head—from somewhere deep in the back of my brain. My vision begins to white out, everything around me blurring into blobs.

  Kill him.

  Blinking several times, I try to clear my vision. The pain still wracks my brain—like every single molecule is being torn apart.

  Kill him now!

  As quickly as it came, the pain suddenly clears. My vision slowly returns to normal, though specks of black still dance at the edges.

  Blinking, I furiously wipe the tears away. Placing a hand on my forehead, I slowly breathe in and out.

  …What was that?

  I try to recall what happened, but my mind comes up empty.

  It’s as if that strange vision—or whatever it was—had been yanked out of my memory before I could grab hold of it.

  Before I can dwell on it any further, one of my tentacles waves in front of my face.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Everything in the bond is too loud—like nails on a chalkboard scraping directly into my thoughts.

  Quickly erecting several mental barriers between myself and the bond, I let my eyes follow where the tentacle is pointing.

  The man in the top hat is already long gone, leaving behind nothing but the innocent-looking marsh.

  Hours later, after I reunite with Mary and Hazel and we regroup with the rest of our team, I sit numbly in front of a campfire.

  In my hand is a stick with several pieces of meat—dried-out, older than a wrinkled tree, and haphazardly skewered. I hold it over the flames, letting it cook while the tentacles wrap around my body like a blanket.

  What in the world happened back there? Who was that strange man in the top hat?

  I slowly narrow my eyes, frowning.

  ...And what was that vision? A memory? A sequence of something? Why did it disappear?

  I glance down at the tentacles. Some are sprawled lazily across my lap, while others hover near the meat, radiating hunger just through their body language.

  Well, at least it doesn’t seem like they’re responsible. They don’t appear to have noticed or been affected by whatever that was.

  We’re situated a little farther from the larger campfire the hunters built for themselves. The oily smell of roasted meat hangs in the air, mixing with spices and other flavoring herbs.

  “Hahaha!” a hunter yells, making me wince internally at the volume. “Today was a good harvest!”

  From the corner of my eye, I watch as the man raises his makeshift cup.

  “Cheers!” the other hunters say in unison.

  “God must be smiling down on us,” one of them adds. “May his blessings keep shining upon us.”

  I glance briefly at the hunters as they continue their cheerful celebration, then let my eyes wander to the other porters sitting by their smaller campfires nearby.

  “I’m so jealous,” one of them mutters, barely loud enough for me to catch. “I want some meat too.”

  “We are eating meat,” the porter beside her replies in a dejected tone.

  “That’s not meat. That’s a crime against nature.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn my back on the hunters’ celebration and focus on my own campfire.

  I stare numbly into the flames, curling and uncurling my fists over and over.

  ...There’s been a lot of weird things happening lately. From the explosion to—whatever the heck just happened.

  Slowly narrowing my eyes, I frown.

  ...Wait. The explosion…I can’t believe that just slipped my mind. And to think there’s been no news or chaos about it…Was I the only one who saw it?

  “Beatrice,” Mary’s voice calls out from somewhere behind me. “Phew, that was way too much running at my age.”

  I turn slightly and watch as the woman stops beside me, panting heavily. She’s holding a basket full of leaves and other vegetation.

  Behind her, I spot Hazel peeking out from behind Mary’s shoulder, giving me an awkward little smile.

  “Look what I got,” Mary says, drawing my attention back. “Can you believe how many good mushrooms there are?”

  She holds up one particularly strange mushroom—two sphere-shaped lumps at the bottom, with a rectangle sprouting from the top.

  The tentacles pulse faintly through our bond, sending something I can barely interpret. My brain is too tired to care.

  “That’s nice,” I say simply, turning back to the campfire.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Mary gently pulling Hazel to the side and crouching down to the girl’s height.

  "Hey, why don't you go meet up with some of your friends for now?" Mary says to the girl. "Beatrice and I need to talk about something. Important women's stuff."

  Hazel quickly nods before bouncing away, heading toward one of the porters’ campfires.

  As she passes me, I catch a glimpse of her glance—pitying, or maybe worried. I don’t bother trying to decipher it and barely look at her.

  Once she's long gone, I watch Mary slowly sit down beside me. Very faintly, I hear the subtle crack of her joints.

  "Ugh, my joints," the woman groans. "I swear they’re going to kill me before a monster does."

  I watch as Mary holds up a stick with the same skewered meat as mine, along with one of the mushrooms from the basket.

  "You should try this on your meat," she says, handing me another of those strangely shaped mushrooms. "It gives it a nuttier, spicier flavor."

  I simply nod and take the mushroom from her, then begin rubbing it onto my skewered meat.

  The tentacles immediately send a stream of pulses through our bond—a tangle of emotions flashing by too fast for me to understand. Too tired to decipher them, I just roll my eyes.

  Mary gives me a small smile before lowering her head slightly.

  "Oh, did you also know, Beatrice?" she says as she sets the basket between us. "There are even some leaves and other things I think would make great tea."

  Then, with a sly grin, Mary tilts her head down and peers up at me through her lashes.

  "I think some of them would be perfect to brew into tea," The woman begins, "I'm thinking of taking my pan out and whip up some—"

  "No!" I somewhat shout, swiveling my head toward the woman.

  Some of my tentacles immediately shoot straight up, tugging at my spine.

  Quickly catching myself, I close my eyes to slits and glance at Mary—who's smirking knowingly.

  “That was a bad joke,” I say, tilting my chin up as I stare at her. “Like, why can’t you ever just make tea normally?”

  Mary only shrugs, putting on an innocent face.

  “Sometimes you have to be a little adventurous, Beatrice,” she says, in a voice that sounds eerily like those motivational ads on billboards. “Fortune favors the bold.”

  “Not when it basically breaks every single invisible law in existence,” I retort. “Especially not when you don’t even understand why those rules were there in the first place! You need to understand what you're doing before you start breaking things.”

  Leaning in close, Mary blinks innocently at me.

  “So does that mean you’re going to be my guinea pig when it’s finished?” she gasps, placing a hand over her mouth. “I’m so touched, Beatrice.”

  A shudder runs down my spine, and a small pulse of terror jolts through the bond from the tentacles.

  “Um, maybe?” I say, looking away slightly. “Your tea is perfect and all, but we don’t have the equipment for that. We'd have to start a fire every time, and—ugh—the soot! If it gets into the tea, it tastes disgusting. And it’s so hard to wash off surfaces. Plus, we don’t even have a container to store it, so how would we preserve it for the duration of the dungeon?”

  “Pfft, haha,” Mary laughs, patting my shoulder. “Relax. You sound like you just got caught stealing a priceless artifact and are trying to lie your way through it.”

  I slowly glare at her with a mock-hurt expression. Behind me, the tentacles curl against my back, trying to make themselves look bigger—as if they’re pretending to be mad too.

  “That’s because you put me on the spot!” I say, crossing my arms. “You would too if someone just sprung something like that on you out of nowhere!”

  “That badly?” Mary says, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

  Letting out a small laugh, I shake my head.

  “No,” I hum. “I’d never make it as a robber.”

  “Nope,” Mary replies instantly. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

  At that, we both burst into laughter—loud, unrestrained, stomach-hurting laughter.

  Eventually, it dies down, replaced by a comfortable silence as we just sit there, enjoying each other's presence.

  “Looks like you're feeling a lot better now,” Mary says with a soft chuckle. “I'm glad.”

  I only hum in response, resting my chin on both hands as I relax my grip on the bond.

  The tentacles slowly uncurl from around my body, relief flooding the connection as they stretch and settle.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Mary slowly clasps her hands together, her expression darkening.

  “So,” she says calmly, almost patiently, “what happened back there?”

  I don't look at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Around the time of the scream,” Mary says. “You’re not usually like this. At least, not often. Something must’ve happened.”

  Staring into the flames, I frown as my fingers dig into my skin.

  “...I don’t know,” I admit, surprised at how firmly the words come. “...I really don’t know.”

  I run both hands through my hair, fingers tangling in the strands.

  “It was weird,” I continue, tugging lightly. “I thought I saw some lunatic in a top hat doing... something. And then I just—blanked out. And he was gone.”

  Crouching forward, I dig my fingers against my scalp.

  “Don’t you feel like everything’s strange, too?” I murmur. “Like everything's spiraling out of control in a way I can’t quite place? Nothing makes sense. I feel like there’s some kind of boogeyman waiting to jump out at any second.”

  I flinch slightly at a sudden weight against my side.

  Turning my head to the right, I see Mary leaning against me.

  “...Yeah, strange things have been happening lately,” the woman agrees, tilting her head up slightly. “...Hmm.”

  Somewhat pushing herself off me, Mary places a hand under her chin and tilts her head to the side.

  “...I don’t want to scare you, but I think there might be some violence about to break out,” she says.

  As I start to open my mouth, Mary holds up a hand and shakes her head.

  “Let me finish,” she says. “I said I think. From what I’ve seen after living on those streets for years, there are some... tensions slowly brewing beneath the surface.”

  Mary pauses, letting out an uneasy hum—a short, janky tune. After a moment, she turns back to me, her expression already shifting into a cheerful one.

  “Still, I wouldn’t worry too much about it right now,” she continues, giving me a small smile. “Well, no more than you already do, anyway. The point is, there’s always been some kind of violence breaking out between hunters, porters, or whoever. You never really know what might happen—I’m just saying, just in case.”

  She reaches out and ruffles my hair. “So don’t worry too much, yeah? And if you need something, feel free to lean on my shoulder, okay?”

  Looking down at her, I just sigh and nod. “Of course.”

  It’s strange, though.

  I glance off to the side, narrowing my eyes to slits.

  Are we seriously the only ones on our team who were near that scream? Why is everyone else being so quiet about it?