Mara dug her fingers into the loose loam at the cliff’s edge. Her boots scrambled for purchase against the stone lip. Pain zippered up her cracked ribs. With a strangled cry, she rolled over the rim, collapsing onto the bed of pine needles.

  Her chest heaved against the rigid restriction of the Husk armor. The fused ribs ached with a dull, throbbing rhythm. She gasped, sucking in the damp forest air to purge the sulfurous taste of the pit from her lungs.

  She pushed herself up on her hands and knees and looked down at Trenn, who was attempting the climb again.

  "I'm..." she wheezed, “Getting help. Stay there!"

  Heavy, rhythmic thuds vibrated through the ground. The crunch of boots on underbrush made Mara spin into a crouched stance.

  The Crusher crossed through the tree line, its Red Metal chassis gleaming under the grey sky. Ezy sat high in the cockpit, her skeletal hand gripping the controls. Zeen marched beside the machine, flanked by Velo and the Wolf Kin pack.

  Vavnaar stepped forward. His shadow fell over Mara.

  He stared at her. His gaze ignored her face, locking onto the iridescent black plates encasing her torso. He reached out, a clawed finger tapping the pauldron.

  "Husk," he rumbled.

  "We killed it," Mara rasped, forcing herself to a knee. "We skinned it."

  Vavnaar grunted, a sound of deep, professional approval. The Wolf Kin behind him lowered their weapons.

  Mara turned to Ezy. “How did you find us?”

  It is Wutren who pointed a spear toward the sky. "The moth marked the spot. It circled until we arrived."

  Mara looked up. “Bomber! I never thought I’d see you again!”

  Velo scurried to the edge of the pit. His long ears swiveled forward, locking onto a frequency too low for the others to catch. He froze, his eyes widening behind his goggles.

  "Heat-Ray clutch," the Rabbitling whispered. He pointed a trembling claw at the faint amber pulse deep in the shaft. "Hear that whine? That isn't a heartbeat. It’s pressure cooking inside a shell."

  His ears flattened against his skull.

  "They’re unstable. Like overstuffed powder kegs. One hard knock and the whole nest blows."

  Vavnaar walked to the edge. He peered into the gloom.

  Thirty feet down, Trenn clung to the rock wall. Below him, the massive golden tail hung in the void, a dead weight dragging at his spine.

  Vavnaar watched the metal scales glint in the dim light.

  "Stubborn bastard."

  Ezy yanked the control levers. The Crusher pivoted, its hydraulic feet stomping into the earth. Metal anchors shot from the rear chassis, biting deep into the soil to stabilize the platform.

  "Rig it," she commanded.

  Zeen and Velo worked with practiced speed. They unspooled the heavy cable from the winch drum. Zeen fashioned a loop, securing it with a heavy iron clip.

  "Lowering!" Zeen shouted.

  The cable unspooled, snake-like, into the dark throat of the chimney.

  Down in the shaft, Trenn watched the line descend. He reached out with his free hand, snatching the loop from the air. He slipped it over his head and shoulders, cinching it tight under his arms.

  He gave the cable two sharp tugs.

  "He's hooked," Zeen called. "Haul him."

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  Ezy engaged the winch. The hydraulic motor whined, taking up the slack. The cable snapped taut, vibrating with tension.

  Trenn lifted off the ledge.

  His tail swung into the shaft's faint light, a heavy pendulum of muscle and gem-encrusted scale.

  Above, the Wolf Kin recoiled. Vavnaar stiffened, his hunter’s eyes recognizing the golden hide instantly. Wutren leaned over the lip, his eyes shimmering with a faint, internal light as he peered at the fusion of flesh and divine metal.

  "He bound a god's soul to his body," the Grey-Fur growled, his voice echoing down the throat. "The fool."

  Without the friction of the wall to anchor him, the massive golden tail swung freely—its momentum carrying Trenn in a slow, dangerous arc toward the clusters of glowing leathery spheres.

  "He's swinging!" Velo shrieked.

  "Pull left!" Zeen roared.

  Vavnaar, Wutren, and Janaree seized the rope. They threw their bodies into a violent, backward lunge.

  Their boots gouged deep trenches in the gleaming obsidian, fighting for traction. The thick hemp rope shrieked, fibers fraying under the sudden tension.

  Vavnaar roared, his massive shoulders bunched, the leather of his cuirass groaning in protest as he anchored the line against his hip. Wutren and Janaree leaned back until their spines were parallel to the ground, their heels driving into the earth to arrest the swing.

  "Steady!" Vavnaar spat, saliva flying from his gritted teeth.

  In the shaft, Trenn spun. The golden tail drifted wide, the metal scales scraping the air inches from a clutch of eggs.

  “To the left! Left!” Screamed Velo, looking down the pit.

  A sudden lurch of the cable sent him swaying back. The tail swung toward a large, singular egg pulsing with amber light.

  The tip of the tail grazed the leathery membrane.

  The contact was light, a mere brush.

  The egg reacted instantly. The amber light flared into a violent, throbbing red. A high-pitched vibration came from the shell—a biological countdown.

  On his head, flattened itself into a tight, trembling disc, gripping Trenn's scalp with desperate force.

  The Wolf Kin braced, eyes wide. Velo covered his eyes.

  Trenn stared at the pulsing sphere.

  He gathered the Sound Element in his chest, compressing the chaotic hum of his soul into a clear note. He forced the raw command into his throat.

  "STOP!"

  The command was a sonic vacuum. The command nullified the vibration instantly.

  The recoil hit Trenn like a hammer to the temple. His vision grayed, his inner ear screaming in protest. Nausea roiled in his gut, demanding he let go, demanding he sleep.

  He gritted his teeth. Not this time.

  His grip tightened on the cable until it bit into his palms.

  "He stopped it!" Zeen screamed from above. "Haul him!"

  Velo looked down, baffled. “How?”

  The winch whined. The cable jerked, dragging Trenn upward. The swing returned, threatening to smash him against the rock face.

  Trenn swung his legs forward.

  His feet slammed into the shaft wall. The impact jarred his spine, but he held the brace.

  He pushed, they pulled. He cleared the lip of the hole.

  Vavnaar stepped in. A massive hand grabbed the harness. The Wolf Kin hauled him over the edge.

  Trenn stumbled, his equilibrium shot. He fell in a crouch, one hand planted in the dirt, chest heaving.

  The world spun in a sickening vortex, but Trenn shook his head, clearing the worst of the static. He spat a glob of bloody saliva onto the grass.

  Mara dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands hovered, checking for breaks.

  He gripped her forearm and used the leverage to push himself upright.

  His legs trembled, the massive weight of the tail threatening to pull him backward, but he locked his knees.

  He swayed, but Mara kept him on his feet.

  He shook his head. He coiled the massive golden tail beneath him. The limb locked, rigid as an iron pillar, taking the crushing load off his shaking knees. He stood on his own, a tripod of flesh and gold.

  "You're heavier than you look, God-Slayer," Vavnaar muttered, dropping his hand.

  "Gold is dense," Trenn grunted.

  Mara stepped in, her shoulder angling to wedge under his armpit, but he shifted away. He eyed the strain in her face, the way her breath hitched against her fused ribs.

  "I can stand," he said, his voice rough but final. "Save your strength."

  Zeen walked to the edge of the tree line. He pointed a soot-stained finger toward the horizon, where a jagged, vitrified scar cut through the forest.

  "The Red God left a road," Zeen said, his voice lacking its usual edge.

  Trenn ignored him. He ignored the horizon.

  A scent cut through the pine air—a cloying, rotten smell that made him cough. It pulled at him, a magnetic force dragging his gaze to the mound of grey slag slumped past the tree line.

  The decaying Gem-Croc’s remains.

  He took a step, his tail carving a heavy line in the dirt. Vavnaar stepped aside.

  It wasn't a mountain of gold anymore. The luster had rotted away, leaving dull, leaden plates that flaked in the wind. The gems, once radiant eyes of the earth, were clouded cataracts staring blindly at the sky.

  The hum in Trenn’s marrow spiked.

  A violent, confused tremor detonated in his chest. It wasn't his emotion. It was the soul grafted to his bones, recognizing its own husk. A silent, psychic keen rattled Trenn’s teeth, a mournful vibration of absolute loss.

  "It’s calling to me," he whispered.

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